Title: Blood Test
Author: Minnie K.
Type: Gen
Summary: After weeks of overtime, and the flu, a quiet weekend seemed like a good idea. Until Starsky's past comes back to haunt the partners, that is.
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement intended.
Notes: This story has previously been published in Venice Place Times II.
I want to thank both Keri T. and Paula Wilshe for not only publishing it, but for being so wonderful to work with. It was a great experience, one I wouldn't have missed for anything.
I also want to thank my editor, Barb D., for all the hard work she puts into polishing my stories. I value her talent and her judgment, and enjoy working with her. She always helps me look my best.
Format: Story
Series: Blood Series
Sequel: Blood Ties
Categories: Hutch Angst, Starsky Angst, Hutch H/C, Starsky H/C, Zine Story
Rating: R
Size: 206K
Date Added: 2005-11-30

Blood Test
by Minnie K.

Ken Hutchinson sighed tiredly, as he turned off the engine and rolled down his window to let in the cool evening breeze. Since Starsky wasn't up in his apartment waiting for him, he could take a minute to just listen to the soft sounds of the evening. All he needed was a few seconds to himself, to find his second wind. Rubbing at his face, soothing his moustache and running a hand through his hair, he figured he must look as tired as he felt, which, in other words, meant he looked pretty crappy.

Been a long week. I'm getting too old for the hours we keep.

If he had timed it right, Starsky would be ready to check out of the emergency room by the time he unpacked the groceries. They'd need the food for the weekend, and Hutch knew as soon as he got his partner home, all Starsky would want to do is grab something to eat and hit the sack. Heaven forbid the cabinets should be empty of Starsky's favorite snacks.

I think I spoil him. Okay, I know I spoil him. How did I let him get me so well trained?

He smiled at the memory of Starsky's emergency room "Camille" act. Hutch had satisfied himself that Starsky's only injury was a bad sprain before the emergency room trip, but there was no use taking a chance with that ankle of his. Starsky's performance in the waiting room at the hospital had confirmed to Hutch that his partner would be fine. If Starsky had really been hurt, Hutch wouldn't have heard a grunt from him, not in public, but let him think he could get some sympathy from something minor, and he wasn't above playing it for all he was worth. It hadn't taken long for Hutch to volunteer to do the shopping, not with Starsky fluttering those big blue eyes at him and moaning softly.

He's such a big baby. Hutch chuckled at the memory, feeling a bit better with the sharp bite of the evening air in his face. Can't blame him for wanting a bit of attention. It's been a hell of a month, and having a wrenched ankle on the eve of your birthday just adds insult to injury. Good thing we didn't have much planned.

It had been a hard month for everyone. A nasty strain of flu had hit the city and had run like wildfire. It was no surprise to Hutch that it had started at the station and worked its way through Parker Center quickly, not with the amount of traffic that place saw on any given day. Hutch had come down with it last week, leaving Starsky and a few other detectives on their own. Heaven only knew how many hours Starsky had put in at the station after that. Hutch himself had only vague memories of his partner stopping by Venice Place to nurse, shop and clean up after him on top of everything else. Even though Hutch had come back to work four days ago, he wasn't quite up to par. He felt badly that Starsky was still pulling most of the weight for them both.

Just as well I did the shopping, I guess, since I'm going to be doing the cooking. He's going to love those new recipes I found. Nothing too good for the birthday boy, or so he believes.

Yawning and stretching, Hutch pocketed his keys and got out to unpack the trunk. Starsky's birthday was only a few short hours away, and he wanted to mark the occasion with a cold beer.

Starsky's original lack of enthusiasm for a special celebration had been worrisome at first. Before Hutch had even had time to make the usual party plans, Starsky had casually mentioned that he didn't want one. Hutch was leery of the declaration. Sometimes remarks like that were just Starsky's way of reminding you about something important to him. After some careful prodding on Hutch's part, Starsky had finally revealed why this year was different; on this birthday, he would have out-lived his father by a whole year.

I should have known it was something like that. He's been awful quiet for the last couple of months. I can understand why he just wants to have a quiet celebration this year. He still misses his dad so much.

He had been touched when Starsky had invited him over for the weekend, planning on just the two of them. They hadn't made any solid plans, just decided to kick back, watch TV and make a large meal to mark the occasion. He could tell Starsky wanted an audience to reminisce to about the most important man in his life, and Hutch was glad to lend an ear. It made him feel like he was sharing a part of Starsky's childhood, getting to know his father this way. Sometimes he wondered if the man would have approved of his son's choice of partners.

Hutch was at the top of the stairs, his arms full of grocery bags, when he felt something was wrong. Pausing, he put the bags down quietly while keeping his senses on guard. A faint noise from inside the "empty" apartment put him on full alert. Taking out his gun, he walked softly up to the front door, careful to stand to the side of it.

He never said anything about having company. It's not like him to forget to mention a houseguest!

Pressing his ear to the door hinge, he could hear the low tones of what sounded like a television commercial. Next came the sound of a toilet flushing.

Could be Huggy, he thought as he slipped his copy of the apartment key out of his pocket. But how would he get here without a car?

He unlocked the door softly, opening it slightly. Listening for any movement, he pushed the door open a bit more, peeking around the edge. Seeing no one on the couch, he turned his attention to the sounds of activity from the bathroom.

They're sure acting like they live here.

Moving inside and shutting the door softly, he walked to the kitchen and checked around the corner, gun ready. Finding it empty, he flattened himself against the cabinets, trying to keep out of sight of the bedroom. He could see through the bookcase that divided the rooms. The bed seemed to be covered, but with what he couldn't make out. As he saw the bathroom door begin to open, he ducked farther down, out of sight. The quick glimpse he caught of the intruder surprised him.

Nick?! Hutch felt relief, then anger flood through him. What the hell is he doing here?!

Hutch raised his gun, making sure it was pointed to the ceiling, and stealthily made his way to the bedroom entrance. As he came closer, it was apparent Nick had come for a prolonged stay. There was an open suitcase on the floor, and clothing had been tossed all over the bed. A second suitcase sat on the floor. Nick himself was fresh from the shower, still dripping, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Hutch came up and paused in the entrance to the room.

"A little late in the evening for breaking and entering, isn't it, Nick?"

He had tried to keep his tone casual, but at the first word Nick swung around as if he'd been shot, eyes wide with fear. Hutch knew he had startled him badly, but it felt good to show the kid just how close he could have come to getting his head blown off.

"Hey..." Nick swallowed convulsively, raising his arms and giving Hutch a crooked smile in greeting. "Hiya, Hutch. Hell of a surprise, huh?"

Hutch watched him closely, not surprised to see a strange version of the "Starsky charm" rise quickly to the surface. He had too many years of experience not to be able to read the emotions beneath it, and Nick clearly wasn't any happier at this meeting than he was.

"Yeah, it's a surprise all right," Hutch replied gruffly as he holstered the gun. "How did you get in? When did you get in town? Why are you here?"

"Whoa! Wait a minute." Nick flashed him a grin and gave a careless shrug, as he turned back toward the bed. "You think I can't come to visit my big brother just because I miss him? Or that I don't have my own key? I mean, we are family, you know."

Unfortunately for Starsky, Hutch thought unkindly. "Nick, I know damn well Starsky didn't have any idea you were in town. And I don't ever remember him saying he gave you a key."

"Oh, so you live in his pocket, do you? Know everything he knows, take all his calls and read all his mail?" Nick sounded amused as he continued to dig through the wads of clothing on the bed. "And, yes, I got a key, Mr. Detective. I got it the last time I was here."

"The point is, you could have gotten your head blown off because I didn't expect you to be here."

"Well, I didn't expect you to be here, so we're even." Nick laughed as he said it, but Hutch could hear the annoyance behind the words. "By the way, where is that brother of mine? He comin' up behind you or what?"

"He's still at the hospital." Hutch raised a hand at Nick's startled look. "It's not serious. He twisted an ankle a few hours ago and needed an x-ray, just to make sure it's not broken."

Nick's face fell. "No kiddin'? He's really okay?"

Hutch shrugged tiredly. "As okay as he can be with that tricky ankle of his. It's going to be pretty colorful for a while, and he'll be stuck in a desk job for a few more days, but he'll live."

Curious eyes studied him. "So if he's there, why are you here?"

Hutch bit his tongue on the first nasty comeback that crossed his mind, knowing he was probably letting his fatigue get the better of him. He took a breath and tried to make his reply casual. "I'm here with groceries, because your brother put off his shopping all week. Better than waiting on my ass in the emergency room while he spends his time charming the nurses. He should be ready to go about now."

"Hey, that was a great idea!" Nick nodded enthusiastically. "I noticed we were pretty short on grub. Why don't you bring it all up while I'm getting dressed, then you can drop me off wherever he's stashed the Torino. You got keys to that, too, right? Then you can go on home. I'll swing by the hospital, and then Dave and I'll be set."

You? Drive the Torino?! The thought almost made Hutch smile. Sorry, kid, I value my life more than that.

"Unfortunately, Nick, the Torino's all the way downtown at the station, and it's closer to just drive down and pick him up myself. He should be ready to go pretty soon, so I've got to get a move on with the groceries. If you want to stay here and unpack--"

"And miss a minute with big brother?" Nick said quickly, looking excited. "Not likely! Just give me a minute and I'll grab something clean while you bring the groceries in. Guess I've been on the road too long to get any washing done."

"Great," Hutch mumbled to himself as he turned toward the front door. "Thanks for the help."

It took several trips. After placing the last bag of groceries on the table, he started to unpack the freezer items, listening to the noise Nick was making in the bedroom. The slamming of drawers finally ceased, so Hutch assumed he had found something that would fit.

Whatever he's up to, it can't be good, Hutch decided, not liking the feel of this "visit." Every time he calls, it's because he wants something. Every piece of mail, when he bothers to send any, is asking for a big favor or cash to get him by. When he does decide to drop in, he ends up creating problems of one sort or another. What could he want now? Is his showing up like this going to mess up--?

It hit him then how off-base he might be. Starsky's birthday?

He felt sheepish at the thought.

Maybe he really is thinking of someone other than Nick for a change. Starsk is going to be thrilled to have him here for his birthday. After all, Nick is family. I guess I should be prepared to be the third wheel this weekend.

Hutch paused for a moment, feeling a bit peeved at his last thought.

Can I really assume Nick is here for that? After all, I've never heard of him calling his brother on a holiday, or sending anything but an odd note here and there. Maybe I ought to find out what's going on before I give him too much credit.

"Hey, Nick," he yelled as he continued to put away the perishables. "You never did say what the reason for this visit was. Special occasion or something?"

"Nah. Nothing special. I needed a bit of a vacation, so, you know, I just decided to hop the first thing headin' out this way."

Typical Nick. He doesn't have a clue, Hutch realized with growing annoyance. You'd think he'd bother to remember his own brother's birthday, if nothing else. Well, I'm not going to clue him in.

"You about ready?" Hutch demanded, hoping the younger man would say no. He checked one last time to make sure the freezer items were put away.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Nick appeared around the kitchen corner, and Hutch wasn't surprised to see him wearing one of his brother's outfits. Nick was looking at him a bit strangely. "I noticed Dave's got a lot of items in his bedroom that don't look like they'd fit."

"Those are probably my things," Hutch replied over his shoulder as he strode toward the door. Nick was close behind.

"You must have an awful lot of stuff here, then."

Hutch turned to lock the door securely behind them. "Got to put it somewhere."

Not feeling like making small talk, Hutch was grateful when it seemed Nick felt the same way. After they settled into the car, Hutch turned on the radio. That seemed to fulfill any obligation he had to entertain his guest. They were ten minutes from the hospital before Nick spoke again.

"So, how did Davey get hurt this time?"

Hutch shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "We were chasing down a suspect, and his foot went through some rotten boarding. Caught his ankle, tripped him up and scratched him a bit. Knowing Starsky, I'm sure there's an exciting story in there somewhere."

"I'll bet." Nick chuckled. "I guess at a time like this, he's gonna be sorry he doesn't have some great-looking lady at home to take care of him. I mean, if you're gonna get hurt, might as well have a pretty thing around to take care of you. I was surprised to find he was still livin' by his lonesome."

"Guess he values his privacy," Hutch replied casually, uncomfortable with the subject.

"It's just as well, I guess. I'd hate to feel like I was intruding."

And you're not intruding now?

Nick continued when Hutch didn't reply. "I'll bet he doesn't stay lonely long, though, with the natural Starsky family charm being what it is." He slugged Hutch playfully on the shoulder. "I'll bet my big brother has at least two or three ladies at his beck 'n call right this minute. Am I right, or am I right?"

"You'd have to ask him. I'm not in charge of his love life, you know."

Nick was quiet for a few minutes, then started to hum the tune on the radio. Hutch didn't say anything when he turned it up, glad for the distraction.

What's the matter, kid? Afraid your brother is more a ladies' man than you are? You--the family legend for shacking up with any well-heeled lady who'll have you--are worried your brother is more of a gigolo than you are?

Nick would probably be surprised if he realized how much of his life Hutch knew about. The "Starsky charm" was one thing, but it had always bothered Starsky to hear Nick brag about living off women. Hutch knew Starsky walked a fine line between communicating his discomfort to Nick and needing to keep the lines of communication open, so Nick never got the dressing down from his brother Hutch thought he richly deserved. Since the beginning, Hutch was a sounding board for his partner's frustrations and disappointments, many of which included, or were caused by, Nick.

You two were cut from a totally different cloth, kiddo. When your brother moves in with a lady, it's going to be for forever, and he's going to pull his own weight in any relationship. If you want to rack up points, you're going about it the wrong way. If you want to impress him, you better get to know what earns his respect.

Finally arriving at the hospital, he parked the car in the visitors' lot and turned off the motor. He got out and headed for the emergency entrance, trusting Nick to catch up on his own.

Nick wasn't far behind as he entered into the bright hustle and bustle of the emergency room. Hutch was glad he could flash his badge and go on through, the nurses already knowing who he was there for. Pausing just outside the swinging doors that led to the examination rooms, he turned to Nick. "Let me go in first, make sure he's decent."

Nick gave him an odd look, but nodded in agreement.

Pushing through the doors, Hutch strode down past many examining tables. All of them full, most curtained off from casual view.

So, how do I break the happy news? Wish I could share in the thrill. He plastered a smile on his face, ready to appear as happy as he knew Starsky would be. Face it, Nick isn't really that bad.

In the past, they had managed to get along pretty well. Nick could be a charmer when he wanted to be, and even when he made trouble for his brother, it hadn't happened out of meanness or spite. They had even had some good times the last time Nick had visited, having parted with smiles and handshakes.

All he's done is arrive at a time when I'm tired, out of patience and still not quite up to snuff. Not quite fair, is it?

When he came upon the last table, he found Starsky lying on an examination bed, missing one shoe. The ankle in question had been taped up and looked ready to go. Hutch smiled at the patient, wondering if he looked as beat as Starsky did. The month's strain showed in the paleness of Starsky's face and the darkening circles under his eyes.

"So, I see the x-rays came out okay." He reached out and put his hand on Starsky's knee, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Yeah," Starsky answered tiredly, flashing him a smile and moving to sit upright. "It's just really sprained. The doctor said the usual stuff 'bout takin' care of it."

"What about the scrapes and splinters?"

Starsky shrugged. "Just a couple of scratches they put some ointment on, although it tore up a good sock. Told you it wasn't bad enough for all this. We could'a done all this at home."

"Yeah, well, I didn't hear you arguing very hard with Dobey when he ordered you here. Besides, you know he'll want the doctor's report on his desk on Monday. Administration likes to have proof that you're really as accident prone as you claim to be."

"Well, guess I'd better cooperate then, since they're payin' the bills." Starsky slid off the table and balanced on his good foot. "The doctor says I don't need crutches, so I won't be totally off my feet for the whole weekend. Which reminds me, you get the groceries?"

"No, I've been out cruising the bars, looking for a prettier date for the evening. Of course, I got the groceries." Hutch put on a worried look. "And you'll never guess what kind of nasty, hairy thing I found wallowing around in your place." He watched with concealed amusement as Starsky's eyes widened with concern.

"Hutch, don't you dare tell me you saw a rat or somethin' in there, 'cause I know I don't have any rats! My place hasn't gotten that dirty!"

"Well, not rats, exactly. It was worse than that," Hutch whispered, leaning close and wrinkling his nose as if about to reveal something disgusting. "You've got to see what I found." While Starsky was watching him worriedly, Hutch took a few steps and waved Nick in. "You really ought to fumigate more often."

Hutch kept his face blank and held his breath as Nick came around the corner of the cloth drapes, all smiles and open arms. His heart lurched to see the sudden flood of joy that began in Starsky's eyes and spread through his whole body, as if he'd been hit by lightening. There wasn't a person in the world who could have doubted just how thrilled Starsky was to see his brother. That smile alone was worth paying dearly for.

"NICKY!" Starsky bellowed, his arms wrapped around his brother a fraction of a second later. "This is great! I can't believe it!" The brother's exchanged a long bear hug and back thumps until Starsky pulled away enough to look Nick in the face, delight animating his once tired features. "Where the hell did you come from?" Before Nick could say anything, Hutch could see the dawning hope take over Starsky's face. "Don't tell me you came all this way for tomorrow?"

Anger flared through Hutch at the blank look that took over Nick's face.

"For your birthday?" Hutch interjected quickly, before Nick could break the spell. "Why else would the kid come all the way out here?"

"Y-yeah! Sure!" Nick flashed Hutch a questioning look before turning and smiling toothily at his brother. "For your birthday! Wouldn't miss it for the world. Figured it was about time we got together for one of those."

"Ain't that the truth?!" Starsky gave his brother another bear hug, then pushed back once again, hands gripping Nick's shoulders. "You walk me to the car, and Hutch here'll sign me out. He's got my signature down pat. In fact, I'm not sure the hospital can keep the two of us straight anymore. Oh," he added, giving Hutch a quick glance. "Don't forget my shoe. We're goin' home!"

Hutch watched as the two brothers seemed to support each other all the way down to the exit, Starsky talking excitedly all the while.

Sighing to himself as he bent to pick up the bag with the unneeded shoe, Hutch felt a trace of jealousy creep up his gut.

He's happy, Nick's happy. Get over it, he admonished himself sternly. He deserves to be with loved ones. Family is everything to him, and it's about time he had some around when he's celebrating.

Bag clutched tightly in hand, Hutch headed for the nurses' station, doing his best to ignore the small, disgruntled voice inside that wished Nick had never come.

Keeping his concentration on the road, Hutch stayed out of the animated conversation between the two men stuffed into the seat beside him. Usually amused at the speed with which Starsky could revert back to a thick New York accent when his brother was around, Hutch found himself growing annoyed by it. By the time he pulled into the driveway, the brothers had gotten down to using some sort of family shorthand that he was no longer able to follow.

"All out," he announced loudly after throwing the car into park. The two men beside him were laughing and didn't seem to realize where they were. Opening the front door, he watched as the two men maneuvered themselves out of the LTD, Nick helping Starsky slide out and get his balance. With arms around each other and grins on their faces, they never even looked up at him as they made their way up the stairs.

Neither one of them are paying enough attention to be careful. If he falls down those stairs, or twists his ankle again... The sight began to eat a hole in him somewhere, however small, yet at the same time, he was happy to see it. He's enjoying this so much.

Hutch stood back to let the others enter ahead of him. Once inside, he locked the door and headed for the kitchen, needing to do something physical. There were groceries to be put away and dinner to fix. Starting in on the groceries, he found his attention drifting to the brothers as they talked.

"Nicky! What the hell did you do? Did ya bring a landfill in with you?" Starsky exclaimed in what sounded like a strange mixture of frustration and amusement, as he stood and surveyed the bedroom.

"Who, me? Hey, no way! This place was a pig's sty before I got here. I just made myself at home."

Starsky laughed, giving his brother a playful push away from him, hobbling into the bathroom. "I'll bet you did. How much laundry did you bring?"

"All of it. Ma's place just happens to be too far away at the moment."

"You tell me you leave Ma's place like this when you visit her, and I'll take it out of your hide! Better get started on that mess, youngster, and don't think I don't recognize the outfit you just happen to have on." The bathroom door closed firmly behind him.

Turning his attention back to his task, Hutch tried to decide what to fix for dinner. His energy seemed completely gone now, and nothing looked good anymore. He hadn't counted on feeding three of them.

"Hey, Hutch, I guess I owe you one," Nick said quietly as he walked into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, eyes guarded. "Can you imagine I'd momentarily forgotten his birthday? Must've been all the excitement that caused it to slip my mind."

"It would be kind of hard to forget, if that's why you made the trip." Hutch shrugged tiredly. "Birthdays are pretty regular things around here, you know. They come around every year, just like clockwork."

"Yeah, guess they do at that."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Hutch continued to put things away. Deciding soup and cold-cuts would have to do, he started to set everything out, pouring the cans of soup into the pan on the stove.

"You don't have to stay, Hutch. I can take over from here."

In other words, you want me to get lost.

Hutch didn't say anything for a moment, but continued to set fixings out on the table. "Afraid you're stuck with me for the duration." He gave Nick his own well practiced--if fake--smile. "Starsk and I had plans for the weekend, and, as far as I'm concerned, they're still on."

Nick nodded, looking as if he was mulling it over. "Yeah, sure. No problem. So, you sure we couldn't just go out for some food, or call some in? You know, make it a special occasion?"

A little bit late for that, Hutch thought, growing more annoyed by the minute. "It's been a long day for us, Nick. If I know your brother, he's halfway to starvation as it is. Might as well eat here and keep him from wasting away to skin and bones."

"Damn right," Starsky's amused voice came from the front room. "At this point, I'd even eat Hutch's cooking."

"Well, then you lucked out," Hutch replied with a real smile this time. "Tonight it's all canned, filled with preservatives. Not a real drop of nutrition in any of this, except for the lettuce and tomatoes, so I'm not even going to pretend I had anything to do with it. But I haven't gotten them cut up yet, so--"

"Hey, no problem!" Nick announced enthusiastically. "Anything I can do to help out?"

As Nick turned to the refrigerator with a lot more enthusiasm for the meal than he'd had a moment ago, Hutch watched Starsky's eyes follow his brother. Affection softened the tired features.

"Thanks, Nicky, but you don't have to do that. You're a guest in my house."

"Hey! For my big brother..." Nick's smile as he carried the produce over to the sink was brilliant, "...anything goes. What else is family for?"

Which obviously doesn't include me, right? Hutch thought, annoyed.

A few minutes passed as the three of them got the table ready. It didn't take long for the soup to heat up, but to Hutch it seemed like forever. Before long they were ready, and Starsky was settling into his usual spot.

"What a surprise, huh, Hutch? My kid brother comes all the way out here to be with me on my birthday. Couldn't have planned a better present for the occasion."

Hutch didn't say anything, as he sat down and began ladling out the soup.

"Huh," Nick grunted from the sink as he cut up the last of the tomatoes. "You think my coming here is somethin' special? You just wait 'til I give you the news."

News? Why doesn't this sound good?

"Oh, yeah?" Starsky's eyes went wide, his face suddenly neutral. "Somethin' goin' on I should know about? Gotta be good news, right?"

Nick walked toward the table with the lettuce and tomato slices, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "The best news there is! I'm movin' out here! How d'ya like that?"

At that moment, Hutch felt as if he couldn't have heard right, his whole body feeling frozen in time.

Moving here? To stay? He could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end. He can't be!

"For keeps?" Starsky asked, pleased astonishment on his face. "You mean it? Really?"

"Sure, I mean it! Would I say somethin' like that if I didn't mean it?"

"You're not running from something, are you?" Hutch asked suspiciously.

"Hutch!" Starsky hissed at him before returning his attention back to his brother. "Nicky, that's great news!" His voice went soft , the look in his eyes growing concerned as he studied his brother. "But what about Ma? That's gonna leave her all by herself, isn't it?"

Nick sighed as he sat down and helped himself to the soup and sandwich fixings. "Look, Dave, I love Ma and all, don't get me wrong, but I don't plan my life around her, if you know what I mean. If I need a change of pace, a new start, then I gotta go where I gotta go." He held up both hands then, seeing the same careful, neutral mask on Starsky's face Hutch did. "C'mon! You and I both know Ma's got family comin' out the ears back there. Between the Starskys and the Waldmans we've practically got enough relatives to make a whole city. She's got lots of company."

"But that isn't the same as having your kids with you, you know. She's already lost--"

"So, you move back there then." Nick took a mouthful of sandwich and continued to talk around it. "Look, you're always tryin' to get her to move out here, aren't ya? Better for her arthritis and all. With both of us here, maybe we can convince her of it."

Starsky looked thoughtful, playing with his soup spoon. A small smile grew at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, guess you're right. She gets out here for a visit, we don't hafta let her go back."

Hutch watched as the smile grew and the delight at the news returned to Starsky's face. It was only then that Starsky started to eat his meal, and Hutch realized he hadn't touched his own yet. Finding his appetite missing, he pushed his plate away.

"So, what are you going to do out here? And when are you movin'?"

"That's why I came to you, 'cause I'm gonna need some help gettin' out here."

Why am I not surprised? Hutch thought sourly. He gave up on eating and sat back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Sure, you got it," Starsky answered quickly. "What kinda help?

"Well, first off, you think Uncle Al would let me come and work for him? I know I'm not his favorite nephew or anything, but I'm willing to start at the bottom at the used car lot."

"You sure?" Starsky asked with surprise, smiling at Nick's nod. "He's gonna be thrilled! You know, I worked at his lot during high school. He was really disappointed when I didn't go back after the army. He's always hinting he'd love for me to take over one day. He's gonna be ecstatic to hear about you wantin' in."

"Great! Now all I gotta do is find a place to stay."

Here it comes...

"No, you don't," Starsky answered quickly. Hutch tried not to wince. "You stay here, with me, until we can get you settled."

No foolin'? Hutch thought sarcastically toward the younger man. Of course, he wants you to stay. What other answer did you expect? Nick was beaming now, and Hutch caught the flicker of a self-satisfied glance thrown his way.

"Dave, that's fantastic! It'll be like old times again. You 'n me under one roof, just like when we were kids. Really gettin' to know each other again."

And I'm getting a headache. Hutch got up to clean what he could while the two brothers talked and ate. I may be invisible, but at least I can be useful.

Finishing quickly, Hutch grabbed a beer and settled on the couch, listening in on the brothers' plans. Nick had already broken most of his ties to New York, and what little he had, had either been sold, stored, or was in his suitcases.

They then debated the best way to tell their mother of the move. Hutch could hear the disapproval in Starsky's voice at the fact that Nick hadn't even bothered to discuss the situation with her before he left. Starsky pushed Nick to tell her tomorrow, when she was sure to call, but Nick was set against it. He wanted to wait until he had a job and an apartment, before breaking the news. Starsky let the matter drop, and Hutch knew he would let Nick handle it the way he wanted.

Then it was time to catch up on the family gossip, Nick volunteering to finish the clean-up, while insisting his brother rest his ankle in the living room.

Hutch didn't move as Starsky limped to join him, beer in hand.

"You didn't eat much," Starsky said quietly, too low for Nick to hear.

"Wasn't as hungry as I thought I was." He turned to look at Starsky's face as he settled into the couch. "Been a hell of a week."

"But gettin' better." Starsky grinned and held up his beer as if in a toast.

Hutch met Starsky's bottle with his own, the clink of the bottles sounding flat to his ears.

"Look, Starsk," he began just as quietly after they had each taken a sip. "It's late, and we're all tired. Maybe I'd better head on home and--"

"Hey, you wouldn't bug out on me now, would ya? Nicky's got more energy than both of us put together. He'll probably have me talked out of my car by morning if I don't have someone to protect me. You gotta stay." Starsky nodded as he took another drink, looking as if the matter were settled.

"You sure?"

Starsky only rolled his eyes at the question.

Nick came in and settled in the armchair, beer in hand, and feet on the coffee table.

"So, what do we do now? You guys wanna go out and hit some discos? Catch a movie? Check out some bars?"

Hutch chorused his partner's groan at the suggestions.

"Nicky, it's late, and I don't think my bodyguard here will let me out for the evening with this ankle."

"Damn right," Hutch said, knowing his cue when he heard it.

"Aw, c'mon, guys! It's not even midnight yet. I'm not used to going to bed this early!"

Hutch winced at the childlike frustration in Nick's voice. It was going to get really annoying if he kept that up all evening.

"Better get used to it then, if you're lookin' to work with Uncle Al. He's one of those weird people..." Starsky reached a hand over to poke Hutch in the ribs, which Hutch deflected with a swat. "...who gets up at sunrise and think that's a good thing. I'd say you'd better learn to adjust your schedule, and tonight's as good a time as any."

"You know, Dave," Nick replied sadly after a gulp of his beer. "You're too young to be this old."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch saw Starsky's face fall almost imperceptibly at the dig.

"Hey, give us a break," Hutch said tiredly. "It's just been a bad month, okay? You want to go out, why not go? Use my car if you want."

Nick laughed at the suggestion, but Hutch could see Starsky glance at him strangely.

"Uh...think I'll pass on that, Hutch. Thanks, but just between us, I'd have a better chance with the chicks if I took the bus."

Hutch tried to smile good-naturedly at the rib, as Starsky and Nick broke out laughing at the remark. He took a sip of his beer, emptying it, and waited for the hilarity to die down before getting up and heading for the kitchen.

"You two clowns ready for another?"

"Not for me." Starsky turned on the couch, and Hutch could see he was putting up his foot in the spot Hutch had just vacated. "But I'm going to need some ice for this ankle, though."

"Sure! Ice coming up." Cursing himself silently, Hutch realized he'd been so concerned with Nick and his news that he had forgotten about the injury.

I should have had gotten him some ice before this! He may like to milk a sprained ankle for attention around me, but with Nick here he's gonna be Mr. Macho all weekend.

As he filled a plastic baggie with ice and grabbed the pill bottle out of the sack, he realized it made him feel a little better, knowing Starsky felt freer around him than with Nick.

He doesn't have to prove anything to me. I guess that says something about us.

Carrying the items back to the couch, he handed over the pills. He helped Starsky position the ice on his ankle as they talked, and wondered at the sheer numbers that comprised their family tree. The Starsky branch alone was beyond Hutch's ability to memorize, yet Nick seemed to know all of them intimately. He was sure Nicholas Starsky would be able to keep them "entertained" for hours, so he settled himself down on the floor, back against the couch by Starsky's feet. He closed his eyes and tried to keep up with the vast amount of names and intricate relationships. Before long, Hutch felt himself drifting off, welcoming the escape.

***

Dave Starsky laughed at his brother's story, joy mingling with a little melancholy at the tale of the wedding day travails of a distant cousin. It had apparently been one of those cases of massive miscommunication that left those in attendance in stitches and, hopefully, was a day the married couple would learn to remember with humor. At least, he hoped so.

Oh, if only I'd been there to see it! He leaned back on the couch and rubbed at tired eyes. It's been forever since I've been back, and when I do go, it's never enough time to really catch up. He stretched as well as he could, his bad ankle still throbbing a bit. The ice had melted a while ago, but he didn't feel it was worth bothering Nick for more.

Hutch had drifted off to sleep early on, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch at Starsky's feet. With Hutch's head lying on the same pillow his foot was on, it didn't seem possible the blond could have been comfortable enough to doze off. But then again, they'd managed to sleep in stranger places.

This'll be a good story to tell him later, when we're on one of those eternal stake-outs. He smiled at the thought and turned his attention back to Nick, who was leaning back in the armchair, eyes closed and a smile on his face.

"You should'a been there, big brother," Nick said quietly. "There were quite a few who were asking about you, you know."

"Really? I'm surprised any of them even remember me."

"Sure they do! Everyone hears about you once in a while through the papers, even if they are the California ones, and Ma has to wave them in front of their faces." They both laughed. "There probably aren't too many Starskys in California, so you kinda stand out."

Starsky chuckled. "Yeah, I've noticed. I guess on my next visit back there, I'll have to make a better effort to touch base with more of them."

"You really ought to take a lot of time off and come back for more than a few days at a time. Might even find you'll want to stay."

"Wish I had a job where I could take off like that. But I'm really glad you're moving here, Nicky." Starsky gave his brother a fond grin and practically drank in the pleased smile he got in return. "I've missed you. Wished you'd come out here more often."

"Yeah, well, you know me. I'm always busy, always got some deal in the works. It'll be nice to start someplace fresh, someplace where my reputation..." Nick winked at him. "...small as it is, doesn't precede me."

Starsky found himself chuckling. He closed his eyes, just content to sit and relax in the shared moment.

It didn't last long, however, as a sudden snort echoed throughout the quiet apartment. He knew before opening his eyes that if he didn't get his partner straightened out soon, the snoring could go on all night.

Damn. Should've gotten him tucked in before he crashed. Guess I'd better hit the hay myself, before I get too fuzzy to move. He turned to say something to Nick, but was stopped short by the look on his brother's face. For a fraction of a second, disappearing before he could be sure, there seemed to be an angry stranger sitting in there. He closed his eyes again, not sure he wasn't seeing things.

He's probably beat, too. We all are. Better get everyone tucked in for the night.

"Well, I've got to hit the hay, little brother. You know where the sheets are for the couch, right?" He leaned over to grab Hutch's shoulder for a shake. "Hopefully, this big lummox can get to the bed under his own power, 'cause I can't get him there. Not with this ankle."

"What is this?" Nick asked, looking amused, arms outstretched in entreaty. "I'm your own flesh and blood, and you're sticking me on the couch?"

Starsky shook Hutch harder, trying not to grimace as his ankle throbbed at the movement. "Bet your bottom dollar, kiddo. You're there until I can borrow a roll-away from Huggy. You know the rule; guests get the couch in my house."

"Hutch is a guest, too," Nick said, making Starsky wince slightly at how whiny it sounded. "But he gets to share?"

"I've shared with him lots'a times, Nicky. Him I know I can sleep with, and tonight I gotta sleep." He watched as Hutch blinked bleary and bloodshot eyes in confusion. "C'mon, Blondie. Time to hit it."

Before steering the almost comatose Hutchinson toward the bedroom, and trying to get himself there without twisting anything, he had waved Nick into the bathroom ahead of them. He sat Hutch on the edge of the bed, then giving it up for lost, tossed armfuls of Nick's mess into the corner. They'd have to get things straightened out in the morning. Once the bed was uncovered, it only took a minimum of coaching to get the tall blond to strip to boxers and tuck himself in. Hutch was back to deep, even breathing almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Starsky sat on the edge of his usual side, preferring to be closest to the bathroom, and started pulling his jeans carefully down past his ankle. He found himself listening with half an ear to Nick's bathroom progress, while debating with himself over propping the ankle up with or without a bag of ice. He decided not to bother with the ice, but take some more aspirin instead.

Listening to the noises from the bathroom, he felt a little sorry for putting Nick on the couch. The truth was, even if Hutch hadn't been staying the night he'd have insisted on sleeping in the bed. He loved Nick, but it would have been too much like having a stranger next to him, and he wouldn't have been able to drift off. As it was, he and Hutch had given up on couch sleeping a while ago, and were no strangers to shared sleeping spaces at home or on the job. When it came to job related injuries, they had almost developed a sixth sense about not bumping each other's sore spots during the night.

He examined his bruised and swollen ankle, feeling all kinds of a fool. We're getting too old for this.

He had hit the rotten flooring at a full run, falling flat on his face almost before he could bring his arms up, his gun flying away at the impact. It had been such an unexpected shock that he actually thought he had broken it. What had really scared him was to see Hutch fly on by him, knowing if anything went wrong he was not only stuck and helpless to help Hutch, but a sitting duck to boot.

I've got to be more careful. Even if it means we start losing the perps. It'd be better to lose a few of them than one of us. Ain't so many of us left anymore. Being a good guy don't pay as well as other, saner jobs.

He lay back on his side of the bed and closed his eyes, relaxing until his turn to hit the bathroom. Opening one eye to check the time, the clock read 1:45.

Well, happy birthday to me, he thought cheerfully. Looks like I actually made it, Dad. Who would've thought? Of course, I am a handsome and talented guy, not to mention the best cop on the force.

As if in reply, his bed partner snorted and shifted slightly.

Okay, I'll admit it; he ain't bad either. He felt his mood grow a bit more serious. He's been one hell of a partner and a friend, Dad. Couldn't ask for better. To tell the truth, he's the reason I'm still alive. Probably the reason I may even get to be old and gray.

He jumped at a sudden crash from the bathroom, sitting up in concern.

"It's nothing!" Nick's voice came from behind the door. "Just dropped somethin'."

"Better make sure you clean that up!" he yelled back. He leaned back again and sighed tiredly.

But, Dad, if I get a head full of gray hairs in the next few years, I have a feeling it's gonna be Nicky's fault! Guess I'll need to keep a big brother's eye out for the kid.

He smiled to himself.

Be just like old times, won't it?

***

Hutch drifted out of sleep, warm, relaxed and comfortable in the darkness, but with the strong feeling that something wasn't quite right. He waited a few moments before opening his eyes slightly, still relaxed, fuzzy and limb-heavy. He knew where he was, had recognized the room and the bed before he had even come anywhere near consciousness. Starsky's apartment. Starsky's bed. His second home. It also didn't take much to realize Starsky was there as well, the warm, familiar bulk at his side undeniable.

But there was still a nagging feeling that something was amiss, although not dangerously so. No reason to have to bolt to wakefulness. Not just yet, anyway.

He focused on the noises in the darkness and could tell it was still a few hours until dawn. There was the normal noise from the heater vent, the hum of the refrigerator, and Starsky's soft breathing. He himself was on his back, as relaxed as warm pudding. It took him a moment to make out the ceiling. Nothing looked wrong up there.

Suddenly, there was a slight movement that drew his eyes to the room's divider. The bookcase separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment, looking as it always did in the dark. A small sound drew his eyes to the area next to the bookcase, not quite in the bedroom itself.

Hutch froze for a long second before memory kicked in and the stranger was identified. He didn't move, but lay quiet, as if still asleep. He didn't want Nick to know he was awake.

It was strange the way Nick just stood there in the darkness, with only the vague glow from Starsky's clock to outline him. It was then Hutch realized that he and Starsky would be outlined even better to dark-accustomed eyes, because of their nearness to the only light source in the apartment.

This is no hunt for the bathroom, or being lost in a strange area. He's watching us.

It sounded, well, strange, even to himself. Keeping his eyes closed to mere slits and his muscles relaxed, he wondered if Nick had seen him move, then decided he hadn't. A person caught watching people as they slept would try to make excuses, would say something or move away.

What are you looking for? What do you see? What did you expect?

Still no movement from the other, but Hutch could almost make out the features now. Nick looked somehow...

Harsher. Older, he decided.

Dangerous. Jealous?

Whatever the man's emotional state, Hutch found himself growing angry, and felt just a bit...superior?

Don't like me, do you, kid? Wish I wasn't here? Too fuckin' bad, ain't it?

Hutch wondered if he would see this differently in the morning, questioning if his own feelings for Nick were growing stale for no good reason other than his own insecurities. They'd been cool, even friendly, with each other before. Had seemed to tolerate each other well. But that was when Nick was only a flash in the pan, no longer than a few whirl-wind days before he'd disappear again. Things had changed now, hadn't they?

It was all he could do to keep his features blank, feeling an evil grin creep to the surface. Maybe he could push a bit, see the reaction.

He sighed deeply and, ever so slowly, turned to his side to face his sleeping partner. Making his movements seem as if he were still deeply asleep, he moved closer to Starsky, the arm he let fall in front of him coming to rest against his partner's arm, his head sliding down close to mussed curls, knee moving to nudge a leg until they were pressed close.

It was a position he'd woken up in before, although Starsky was usually the one who could be found anywhere on the bed by morning. That included snuggled up to, or even on, his bedmate, no matter who it was. Starsky was as passionate a sleeper as he was about anything else in his life, and Hutch had gotten used to waking up feeling anywhere from alone in the bed to smothered.

Hutch watched Nick as he moved, but could only see him out of the corner of his eye. He did, however, feel the change of atmosphere in the room almost immediately. What had felt dark and suspicious seemed to turn angry and cold.

Nick grunted in what sounded like anger, disgust, or both, then turned and moved into the front room, out of Hutch's sight. The rustling of the sheets on the couch, and what sounded like a body hitting the springs too hard, told him Nick had given up his watch for the night.

Hutch knew things between him and Nick were going to get worse before they got better. If he let them. A part of him felt confident he would win out no matter what game Nick was playing, but another part of him was afraid. He was too tired to dwell on it, so he buried himself deeper under the covers, moving just a bit closer to his friend.

He's family. You're not, a small voice cautioned as he let himself drift. You might not like what happens if you start--or allow him to push you into--a competition.

Put Starsky in the middle...

...make him choose...

...he'll be the one that loses...

...and gets hurt...

***

Starsky swam toward consciousness reluctantly, not nearly ready to face a new day. But there was something different about this morning, something good, if his nose could be trusted. He allowed himself a moment to catalog the scents before he decided whether or not to slip back into sleep.

Hmmm...smells wonderful. His nose twitched as his stomach let him know in no uncertain terms that it was interested. Is that...waffles? Coffee?

Without opening his eyes, he adjusted to the real world slowly. The wonderful smells made his mouth water, even as he realized there was someone standing next to his bed.

"Rise and shine, old man! If you don't want this cholesterol-laden plate, I'm going to have to toss it down the disposal, or give it to Nick!"

One bleary, sticky eye opened to discover Hutch was holding what he had hoped he was--a breakfast tray! Wiping blearily at his face, Starsky, struggled to sit up before the whole scene turned into some sort of mirage.

"How long've you been up?" Starsky asked thickly, his stomach now growling at the delightful aromas from the tray Hutch was placing before him. His eyes widened at the amount and diversity of food on the tray. There were eggs, sausage and hash browns, along with a bowl of strawberries and bananas, and a whole plate of blueberry waffles. Coffee and orange juice took up either sides of the tray. "You didn't have to do this!"

"Oh, I didn't?" Hutch replied with a surprised look on his face. "Well, thank goodness!" He reached for the tray. "You might have wanted to make it an annual event or--"

"No!" Starsky hunched protectively over his tray. "You're right; it's required. You hafta do this every year. New rule."

"Was afraid of that," Hutch admitted with a laugh. "Here, let me get my coffee, and I'll bring the syrup with me."

As Hutch headed back toward the kitchen, Starsky realized he could hear snoring from the other room.

Well, I'm not the only one sleepin' late this morning. He eyed his plate appreciatively as he found the silverware. And I can't believe I slept through all this cooking!

It didn't take him long to dig in. Hutch came in with his coffee and the syrup, depositing the latter on the nightstand. He then stretched out on the bed, propping himself against the headboard, without spilling a single drop. As Hutch sipped, Starsky ate, marveling at how wonderful the food was.

Finally, stuffed to the gills, Starsky gave a loud, satisfied sigh as he sat back into the pillows behind him, bringing his coffee with him. He wasn't surprised to find it doped up with sugar and cream, just how he liked it.

"This was great, Hutch. Thanks." He kept his voice low, although sincere, not wanting to have to deal with Nick just yet.

Hutch nodded then, putting his empty cup on the other nightstand, stretching out on the bed, hands behind his head. "I felt kind of bad, you not wanting a party or anything. I figured I'd give you breakfast in bed, maybe cook that pot roast you like for dinner, unless you want to go out. Although..." Hutch nodded toward the front room, where Nick could still be heard snoring softly. "I didn't plan on three of us."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure it'll be fine." Starsky grinned at his partner, feeling happier than he had in a long time. "You know, I can't believe he came all the way out here for my birthday, to give me such great news! I kinda worry about keepin' it from Ma, though." He glanced at the clock. It was actually only about 8:00. He knew his mother wouldn't call until evening. "I really wish he'd already told her about his plans. I'm kinda worried how she's gonna take it."

Hutch shrugged lazily. "He may be right, you know. This may be just the thing to get your mother to move out here. I know you've been working on her for years now."

"Yeah, I have. But I wanted her to come out here 'cause it'd be best for her, not because she feels abandoned."

"Nothing you can do about it now, babe." Hutch's eyes were sympathetic. Starsky knew he, too, would have loved to have more family in the area.

In order to distract himself, he moved his ankle experimentally. It was stiff and sore, but workable. The scratches hurt, though. Sighing, he figured it was time to get up and start the day, although his stomach would be happy if he got a few more hours of sleep. He glanced at Hutch and nodded toward the front room.

"Guess we'd better wake him up. If I know Nicky, he'll sleep 'til at least one. He's not exactly a morning person."

"You're really happy he's moving here, huh?"

"'Course I am." Starsky watched his friend's features grow serious. He knew there was something worrying Hutch, and he was afraid it had to do with Nick. "What's goin' on in that fluffy head of yours, anyway?"

"Fluffy?" Blue, incredulous eyes turned toward him, eyebrows climbing up to the blond hairline.

"Fluffy," Starsky insisted, reaching over to tousle the carefully combed blond strands. He wasn't surprised to have his hand slapped away, and was happy with the snort of amusement he got in return."

"After that breakfast, you insult me? Guess I'll just leave you the mess then."

"Sure, you do that," Starsky said, not believing it for a second. "But you didn't answer my question."

Both men froze as Nick's snoring stopped and he started tossing around.

"You'd better hit the shower now if you don't want to wait." Hutch gave a stretch and rolled off the bed. "I'll take the tray back in. Your ankle okay?"

Starsky lifted the tray as his partner leaned over for it. "I'm fine, although I'm still gonna look funny limping around the house."

He got up and made his careful way to the head of the couch as Hutch disappeared into the kitchen. He leaned down to get closer to his brother's ear. "UP and AT 'EM, kiddo!" He laughed as Nick jerked upright. Hopping quickly to the bathroom, he had barely gotten the door closed before the couch pillow hit it with full force.

"Get used to it, kid!" he yelled through the door. "If you think this is early, you're in for a rude awakening!"

"Yeah? Well I think I just got one!"

Starsky laughed with delight as he started the shower running, but as he waited for the spray to warm up, he found his mind wandering back to his partner.

Didn't answer my question, did you, Hutch?

***

Hutch rinsed off the dishes carefully before placing them in the soapy dishwater. He'd been listening to the exchange between the two brothers and had smiled at the way Nick had been roused out of sleep.

"Hey, where's the food?" The disheveled and heavily whiskered younger Starsky came wandering into the kitchen, looking around in confusion. "The smell's about to kill me! I'm starvin'!"

"Sorry, kid." Hutch tried to keep his voice light. "That was your brother's batch. I only made enough for him, but there's sausage and eggs in the ice box, and some batter left over. I just washed the skillets, so you're ready to go."

"Hey, what's this? Leaving out the guest? Well, now I'm wounded!"

"Sorry." Hutch continued with his wash up. "I only cooked that guaranteed heart attack for his birthday. I'm more of a granola man, myself. And..." He turned then to see the disgusted look on Nick's face. Pointing to a cupboard, he gave him a bright smile. "You're welcome to my kind of breakfast, if you're so inclined. You can find the healthy stuff in those cabinets, to the right of the ice box."

The look Nick gave him was full of annoyance. "Yeah, I could'a guessed. Didn't look like nothin' Dave would'a touched with a ten-foot pole."

"His loss," Hutch replied casually. Although accurate.

Turning back to his chore, he listened to Nick as he dug through the refrigerator. Hutch had to admit, if only to himself, the urge to dump the last of the waffle batter had been tempting. He might have to cook dinner for an extra guest, but there had been no way he was going to let Nick share in the breakfast. That was for Starsky alone.

Not surprisingly, rather than actually cook anything, Nick ended up with breakfast cereal. Hutch refilled his own coffee cup and sat at the table across from him.

"Dave seemed really happy that I'm comin' to live here," Nick said around a mouthful of cereal, eyes on his bowl.

"I'd say so."

"Guess he misses me a lot." Nick looked up through his lashes, and Hutch could tell his reactions were being gauged.

"I'm sure he does."

Nick grinned, eyes back on his bowl. "Guess you could do without me, huh?"

Hutch smiled slightly. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?"

"No, guess not." Nick finished his cereal and leaned back in his chair, his eyes serious in features that showed amusement. "You 'n me always got along good enough, didn't we? Thought we were friends."

Hutch was quiet for a moment, wondering how honest he should be. He really didn't understand his own feelings at this point.

"I don't know you well enough to be friends, Nick," he admitted. "You're his brother. I know how much family means to him, so you started out with a lot going for you even before I met you. But you're dangerous."

"To him? You gotta know I'd never do anything to hurt Dave." Nick leaned forward, eyes growing hard. "Or do you mean dangerous to you?"

Before he had time to even think about the question, Starsky came out of the bathroom.

"Your turn, brother-of-mine," Starsky yelled. "If you're lucky, there might even be some hot water left."

"Boy, do you spoil me or what?" Nick laughed, his features jovial as he stood up from the table, but Hutch could still feel the dark surface under the man's facade.

Hutch topped off his coffee, waiting for Starsky to get dressed and join him.

This isn't going to work. I'm not sure I can take a whole weekend of Nick, and it's not fair to Starsky. He shouldn't have to find himself in the middle of the two of us. Not today.

***

Starsky eyed with distaste the pile of laundry still in the corner of the bedroom, but ignored it for the moment, searching for a clean outfit. Groceries hadn't been the only chore that had been neglected the past few weeks. The pile his brother had left wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the fact that Nick had clearly pawed through his drawers and closet space like a bear digging bugs out of a dead log. He could tell he was going to have to read his brother the riot act when it came to living in this apartment for more than a couple of days. Coming to visit was one thing, but he wasn't going to put up with Nick's habits for any appreciable length of time.

As he located a comfortable shirt and his favorite--if a bit worn--pair of jeans, he found his mind wandering again to his partner. Hutch was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and looking too serious. It was never a good thing when Hutch looked like that on his time off.

Something is going on with him, and I'm not sure what it is. Maybe he's still not feeling well. He should'a stayed home a couple more days. He's still awful pale.

While he'd been glad to have the extra help during the manpower shortage, Starsky had nevertheless tried to talk Hutch into staying home a few more days. Hutch had insisted on coming in as soon as he could stand upright for any length of time, so Starsky had found himself keeping a careful eye on what looked to be a walking corpse. He'd seen the results of this kind of flu, had seen how it practically turned a man inside out. The hospitals were still full of the elderly and the very young because of the dangers of dehydration due to the outbreak. There had been a couple of times when Starsky had stopped by to check on Hutch that he'd been sorely tempted to take him to the emergency room himself.

He never did get rested up right. Probably was just looking forward to some quiet time, then Nick shows up. Kinda hard to put up with a guest when you're not quite up to par.

As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed Hutch didn't look at him, but studied his coffee. He got his own cup, fixed it the way he liked it and sat at the table across from his partner.

"I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts, but with inflation I'm not sure I can afford 'em anymore." He smiled, waiting for Hutch to meet his eyes.

"You're right about inflation, but they're actually not worth it." Hutch smiled slightly. "I'm just trying to decide if I should head on home and--" "Home?" Disappointment ran through Starsky in a strong wave. "But it's my birthday, Hutch! We had plans--"

"I know! I know!" Hutch raised his hands in entreaty. "But Nick's here, and I'd be the third wheel. I was just thinking it would be better if I left the two of you alone, you know, to get reacquainted."

"It's just Nicky," Starsky argued. "You never seemed to mind him bein' around before. What's really goin' on? You still feelin' sick?"

He watched as Hutch looked away--toward the bathroom where the shower was still running. He looked a little embarrassed as he turned back to his coffee cup.

"I don't really know, Starsk. After the last few weeks, I don't think I have the strength to deal with company. Guess I'm just...tired."

The last word had come out almost as a whisper. Starsky could see Hutch was serious, and embarrassed, so he knew to take the admission at face value. He waited until Hutch glanced up at him before nodding his head.

"Sure. Okay. I'll admit we're both tired and probably a little burned out. Who wouldn't be? This is the first few days we've had to recharge our batteries, and then we get a visitor and some big news. But we'll kick back, watch some TV, and kibbitz. Got lots'a time to relax. You'll feel better after a lazy lunch and some meaningless conversation. You'll see." He smiled then, reaching out to squeeze his partner's wrist.

Hutch didn't pull away, so Starsky kept his grip firm. He could see Hutch really didn't want to leave, and Starsky didn't want him to, but he did look tired and worn. He couldn't blame him for wanting some quiet time to himself.

"How about I just duck out for a few?" Hutch ventured. "I need to check my mail, water my plants, touch base. Why don't I drop you and Nick off at the Torino, and you guys can give it a spin before meeting me back here?"

"Now, that sounds like a plan!" Starsky agreed enthusiastically. He'd been afraid Hutch was going to insist on leaving for the rest of the weekend, and he knew it wouldn't be the same if he did. "That'll give you lots of time to get my birthday present! Wouldn't want to forget that, right?"

"Present?" Starsky knew he'd hit the right note when Hutch's features became more animated. "Why in the world, after planning the meals and shopping for the whole weekend, would I feel the need to get you a present?" he demanded.

"Because I'll keep buggin' you 'til you do?"

"Nope. I'm used to that." Hutch shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "And if I were going to get you a present, what makes you think it isn't already here?"

Starsky felt astonishment take over. He hadn't thought of that. "No shit? It is here, isn't it? Where'd you put it?"

Hutch snorted in laughter, getting up from his chair. "Who knows? You could even be sitting on it." Hutch smiled at him evilly. It was all Starsky could do not to flip his chair over for a look. Too easy.

"C'mon. The sooner we get this show on the road, the sooner I'll get to my birthday dinner," Starsky announced, getting up to find his keys. He realized his brother was still in the bathroom. "Hey! Nicky! Get your butt out here! We're goin' for a drive!" He grinned when Hutch winced at his volume. "So, whatcha waitin' for, partner? Let's get this ankle taped up. We've got places to go."

***

Nothing like a bit of sunlight and some spring cleaning to wake you up, Hutch thought, eyes on the busy traffic and full sidewalks as he headed back to Starsky's apartment. It had been a cool winter, and he could see the beginnings of spring in the city. It couldn't have come too soon. Hutch was as ready for the warmth and freshness of spring as anyone else. Maybe even more so.

Pretty soon the hills will be greener and the beaches will be just like I like them--warm enough for walking but too cool for tourists. I need to get out and walk more, get some of that fresh air into my lungs.

The trip to Venice Place had helped settle him down, and he was glad he had taken the time out. It had taken him longer to get his basic housework done than he thought it would. There had been bills he'd put off paying while he was sick, his bank statement to balance, a refrigerator to clean out and his plants to water and nurture. Several of them were looking a bit sickly, so he felt the need to give them a little extra attention. By the time he was finished, he was not only surprised to see several hours had passed, but how much better he felt about the weekend. He felt a lot more able to tolerate Nick's presence, now that he'd gotten his second wind and was looking forward to the rest of the day.

Maybe we ought to start getting serious about our vacation time, he wondered, idly, speeding up as the traffic thinned out. If Starsky is going to want to take off somewhere with Nick, or drag him along with us, then I guess I'd better get used to the idea early. Guess--

...Flash...

            ...pressure...

                        ...panic...

                        ...pain...

                                    ...THUNDER...

...darkness...

***

Starsky stretched uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Torino. His ankle was throbbing and his head was beginning to ache. He held his tongue and kept a fake smile plastered on his face, unwilling to spoil Nick's enjoyment in getting to drive.

You'd better enjoy it, kid, 'cause this is the last time you're getting behind the wheel of my car!

Once Hutch had dropped them off, they decided to make an afternoon of it. He couldn't drive--or walk--very far so had taken Nick to the pier. They'd had a true "boardwalk" lunch of fresh seafood and sat and visited while watching the boats go in and out. They discussed Nick's excitement about moving to the city, his plans to start a new life. While it should have been pleasant, the conversation bothered him. Despite their talk last night about his working with their Uncle Al, it seemed that very little of Nick's vision of Bay City life had anything to do with work, but more with seducing some rich, lonely California women.

Starsky held his tongue, unwilling to start nagging his brother already. It was his birthday, and Monday would be enough time to see how serious his brother was when it came to providing for himself. Starsky had no intention of being another mark for his brother to leech off of, nor was he going to encourage Nick to keep living off ofothers.

When they decided to head home, Nick had turned on the charm, begging to drive the Torino. Even though a little voice inside was calling him a fool, it didn't take long for Starsky to surrender the keys and agree to let Nick drive. At first he'd thought his brother was somewhat rusty, but after rolling through several stop signs and nearly side-swiping a parked car, he'd come to the unfortunate conclusion that Nick had never gotten to drive much. Probably almost never.

He's been riding in taxis too long. I'm afraid to find out who it was who actually taught him to drive, because it looks like he learned on his lonesome. Wonder how he'd react to an offer of a refresher course?

Starsky sighed as Nick slid through a red light. "Okay, that's it, kid! Pull over and let me get us both back home in one piece."

"Aw, c'mon, Dave! I just got behind the wheel! You know you brag about this machine so much that I just hafta see what all the fuss is about. Can't I take it on the freeway to see what she can really do?"

"No way! I'd like to keep my car intact, if you don't mind. C'mon, pull over."

"Fine! You just wait 'til I get my own--"

The shriek of a siren startled Starsky, and he turned to see a black-and-white close behind them, mars lights flashing.

Damn! They saw him run that red light. First day here and he gets a ticket, in my car no less!

"Aw, man!" Nick turned the car toward the curb after his glance in the rearview mirror. All enthusiasm now gone. "I wasn't doin' nothin'! You can take care of this, can't ya, Davey?"

"Who? Me?" Starsky shook his head. "I wasn't the one who couldn't make up his mind about what a red stoplight means. Just 'cause I'm your brother, doesn't mean I'm gonna flash my badge every time you get into trouble, ya know."

As the police cruiser pulled in behind them, Starsky realized he knew the two in the car. Officers Conseco and Miller were good men, and he was just beginning to wonder if he would actually try to sweet talk Nick's way out of a ticket when he noticed something was wrong. Officer Conseco jogged quickly to the driver's side, and Starsky felt a chill when he realized the officer didn't even have his ticket book with him.

"Detective--!" Conseco stopped short as he leaned over enough to see the driver wasn't Starsky. He looked relieved when he recognized the passenger.

"Detective Starsky! We saw you headed the wrong way and didn't think you'd heard."

"Heard what?"

"Call just came through. Something about your partner's car. I recognized the plate they called in. An ambulance has been called to Mostoff and Collins streets, for the driver."

"Ambulance?! They say what for?"

"Just caught the tail end of the broadcast, sir. It went out just a few seconds before we spotted you."

Slapping the mars light on the roof as he leaped out the door, Starsky practically flew around to the driver's side. "You take the lead and get us there now!" he ordered the officer. "Nick, move over!"

He flipped the police radio, lights and siren on, then floored the Torino into life. "Hang on!"

They took off with a squeal of tires, forcing their way through traffic. His own hands full with keeping the Torino under control, he was flooded with gratitude as Miller's voice came over the radio.

"Ocean Seventeen to Dispatch. We need information on the incident at Mostoff and Collins. We recognize the plates as belonging to Detective Hutchinson. Do you confirm?"

The response seemed to take forever. Starsky fought to keep his attention on the road, streets flashing by. A glance to the side showed Nick was hanging on for dear life, quiet and pale.

"Dispatch to Ocean Seventeen. Affirmative on the plate identification. Officers at the scene have called for a bomb unit. We're trying to contact Captain Dobey and Detective Starsky. No further information available at this time."

Bomb? SHIT! The Torino jerked forward, almost touching the bumper of the speeding unit in front of him.

"Ocean Seventeen to Dispatch. Log us and Detective Starsky on the way to the scene. ETA three minutes."

Too damn long!

"Ten-four, Ocean Seventeen."

He can't be... He's gotta be... It's gotta be somethin' else...

Anything else.

Please!

Time seemed to slow as they grew closer to the site, even as his heart raced faster and faster.

The first thing he saw as they turned onto Mostoff were the flashing lights from numerous police cruisers, and the pedestrians that crowded both sides of the street. Slamming the Torino into a skidding stop, leaving only inches between him and the lead car, Starsky was out and headed for the middle of the confusion, his whole body alert for any sign of Hutch.

Gotta be okay...gotta be okay...gotta be...gotta...

He caught only a glimpse of the LTD's trunk beyond the crowd surrounding the area. All he could tell from that angle was that it was too damn close to the telephone pole, so the front must be wrapped around it. Fighting to clear a path, paying no attention as his name was called, he pushed through those who blocked him.

Hands grabbed at him but he brushed them off, gaining enough ground to see through the car windows.

He gasped, realizing he couldn't see inside the crumpled car--the windows were covered in red.

Rivulets and waves of crimson ran down each window, blocking the view inside.

Someone in the crowd moved, and he suddenly saw the driver's door, open and dripping. Red flowed down it in sticky looking streams, collecting into pools on the pavement.

His world slowed to blurs of movement and a wash of sound in his ears, all red and bleeding. Several people grabbed at him, tried to pull him away, but he pushed them off, deaf to their voices and the senseless noise they made.

As the voices grew more insistent and the hands on his arms grew stronger, he noticed the car's doorway was framed in bloody-looking handprints, as if several people had delved into the madness inside, leaving nothing but a bleeding interior.

...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...no...

He found himself twisted away from the red in and on the car. He let them lead him away, feeling as if he no longer belonged to himself.

The person he wanted was no longer inside the car.

The ambulance was in front of him, the voices still insistent that he listen, but he wasn't ready to.

That was where he wanted to go, so he let himself be led in that direction. That's where they would have taken him.

He focused on the back of the open ambulance, as if the shaded opening were the door to another world. Someone in white, splotched here and there in crimson, filled the doorway. He knew it must be an ambulance crewman.

He froze, afraid to move and make it real.

The splotched figure move aside, and he could see beyond to a darkish red bulk. He could only guess it was human.

The shadowed, reddish figure slowly turned toward him, as if caught in the same mire he was. Blue, ocean-colored eyes in a sea of red, yellow and frighteningly pale skin caught him, recognized him, and spoke silent understanding of the shock they shared. A slight, sad smile played at the corner of the bloody-looking lips.

Starsky gulped hungrily, feeling starved for air. It was safe to let the world back in. He felt his whole body shake as he did so.

ALIVE!

***

Hutch tried to stay upright on the stretcher, despite the attendant's attempts to get him to lie down again. He was unwilling to touch the mess of red paint he had transferred to the sheets the first time. He felt plastered with the thick, chalky substance, almost suffocated with the smell of it. His head ached and his ears buzzed from the force of the explosion, but he knew he'd been lucky, damn lucky, that it hadn't been the real thing.

He felt eyes on him and turned slowly to stare out into the turmoil of light, cars and uniformed officers, knowing who he was looking for. Starsky was there, being steered toward the ambulance. Hutch cursed to himself as their eyes met, and he tried to send reassurance with his glance.

Shit! They let him see the car first. He probably barreled right through them like a bull in a china shop.

He kept his eyes on Starsky as he came toward the ambulance, ignoring the fussing of the attendant who wanted to take him to the hospital. Starsky's eyes had grabbed him like they'd never let go. Hutch was glad to see the shocked look quickly covered up as he came closer. Now wasn't the time for them to fall apart. Either of them.

Asking questions of the attendant even before he got to the door, Starsky was inside before Hutch could say anything. The attendant argued with Starsky at first, but Hutch was too tired to intervene, the roaring in his ears and the ache in his head making it hard to follow the conversation. It soon became clear Starsky was going to be allowed to stay, for the moment, as he sat down beside him. Hutch could make out a few words between the two men. "Possible concussion," "fuzzy hearing," "testing," and "paint bomb" came through well enough. Growing shakier, cold in spite of the blanket around him, he was grateful for Starsky's warmth.

It had been strange, coming back to consciousness in that wet mess of a car. His first coherent thought was that he was witnessing his life's blood drip from the walls, all in slow motion. He'd felt anger and outrage at the sight. He had no idea how long it had taken him to realize the roaring in his ears wasn't the sound of his death, and the red that he swam in wasn't his own blood. Things after that were a blur.

He felt Starsky's arm come around him, move up his back, his hand coming up to squeeze Hutch's shoulder even through the sticky mess. His head was starting to pound again, so he gave up his attempts to listen and closed his eyes. Feeling the world tilt, followed by strong hands that helped him down once more, he finally let himself relax, feeling a tremble as his adrenaline rush faded.

He could rest now. They were both okay.

***

The sight of Hutch sitting up in the ambulance had been both a tremendous relief and a huge shock. Even after having seen the inside of the car, Starsky hadn't been prepared for this scene. Sitting on the stretcher, a blanket flung around one shoulder, Hutch had been a study in crimson. The explosion had plastered the back of his head and shoulders with the stuff. His hair, blown forward by the blast, had been clumsily pushed back until yellow strands from the front became strange, blond swirls in the mass of red at the back. His face, apparently the side away from the bomb, had mostly escaped, but was freckled and streaked where the liquid had splashed, dripped or been spread. It had even caked in places in his mustache. It chilled Starsky to see how much like a fresh and bloody corpse he looked. He had never seen Hutch's eyes as brilliant a blue as they were in that pale, red and yellow face. If he hadn't seen the life behind that blue, Starsky thought his brain would have shut down entirely.

The ambulance attendant had balked at letting him in at first, but Starsky had gone in anyway, settling down next to his partner and pulling him close, before explaining who he was. The attendant was insisting Hutch be examined at the hospital, although his first assessment was that there were no open wounds, but his head and his hearing should be checked. There was no telling what could be hidden under that red liquid.

Suddenly, Hutch seemed to relax in his embrace, and the attendant helped him lower Hutch onto the stretcher.

Damn! Should've had him lie back down when I got in. Wasn't watching him close enough.

"He really needs to be checked out, Detective, but he was insisting on staying here. Can you talk some sense into him?"

"He's goin' to the hospital, and I'm riding along."

"But he says--"

"Not anymore, he doesn't." Starsky glanced at Hutch as he moved to the head of the stretcher, settling in for the ride. Hutch was watching them both with bleary eyes, but hadn't made any move to object. "If he gives us any lip, just declare him incompetent and I get to decide where he goes. I've got a medical power of attorney over him."

Looking as if he were about to argue the point, the attendant seemed to give up and shrug. "Fine, then. Let's go."

Just as the attendant was getting ready to shut the doors, Starsky saw Nick, pale and wide-eyed, at the back door along with Officer Conseco. He had completely forgotten about him in the excitement.

"Sorry, kid, but I gotta go in with him to the hospital. You do me a favor?"

"Y-yeah, sure." Nick tried to smile at him. "Name it!"

"I need someone to drive my car to the hospital. Think you can find the place?"

He dug in his pockets, only then realizing he'd never taken the key out of the ignition. Nick's eyes brightened at the request.

"Sure! Hey, look around. There's cops up the ass here. How can I get lost?"

"He could ride in with us," Officer Conseco offered helpfully.

"We're rolling in a minute," the attendant warned them all loudly, frustration in his voice.

"Nah, I'll need my car later." Starsky nodded his thanks to the officer. "Conseco, you stick around and tell Dobey where I am and that Hutch is just goin' to get checked out. Tell him we'll be okay and that we need to know as soon as possible everything there is to know about that bomb."

"Will do, detective!"

The door was shut soundly, and the ambulance started to move. Moving to sit out the trip at the head of the stretcher, Starsky saw that Hutch's eyes were closed. He patted his shoulder, left his hand there and smiled as the tired eyes opened once more. Hutch raised his hand and took hold of Starsky's forearm, so they were holding onto each other. He didn't say anything. Neither did Hutch. He knew they would be thinking the same thing.

Whoever did this didn't want him dead, or he would be. The bomb was meant as a warning, to scare us. It did a hell of a job on me, he admitted to himself. Who, how and why? And where in the hell do we start?

***

Starsky sat back, waxed-paper cup of coffee in hand, and tried to find a comfortable spot on the waiting room couch. He really wished he could put his foot up, but that was impossible with the room as crowded as it was. There wasn't much to look at either, the room now so familiar that he felt as if he had spent much of his life here. In fact, Starsky could almost swear that the décor hadn't changed since his first trip, right after his academy graduation. His first visit had been when he had accompanied his senior partner in uniform as they tried to get information, as gently as possible, out of a grieving family. Nothing had seemed to change but the worried and stunned faces of those who waited.

He had been glad for the fairly sedate ride in the ambulance. He still felt a bit shaky, but the ride in had given him time to collect himself. At this point, unless the doctors found otherwise, he wasn't worried about Hutch's health as much as how to keep him healthy. He knew, intellectually, "it" could happen to either one of them at any time, but emotionally it was something he tried not to dwell on.

Kinda hard not to think about it when you've had your nose rubbed in it. But whoever they are, we have to assume they're playing hardball, and that there won't be a second warning. How much time are we going to get before the real thing happens?

Time was the problem. Unless they found a note somewhere, or the station had gotten a call with demands, there wasn't anything to go on. There was, of course, the possibility that the bomb squad would find something important, but Starsky knew there had been enough Vietnam vets coming back from the war with demolition experience, that bomb-making wasn't the specialized art it used to be. The knowledge could be had for the right price. So how long did they have to find the "who" and "why" and put a stop to it?

He checked his watch again. It had been quite a while already. He was beginning to worry about Nick. He hadn't shown up yet, and Starsky was starting to wonder if he should try to reach his brother on the radio.

Dobey came around the corner and Starsky rose to meet him, seeing how exhausted the older man looked. While Dobey himself had been lucky enough to escape the flu, Starsky knew his kids had had it. They were getting better now, but the long hours at work and home had put new creases on the plump features, and what looked to be even more gray in the temples.

"How is he?" Dobey asked tiredly.

"Haven't heard yet, but I think he's going to be okay after a shower and some rest."

"The bomb unit is going over the car now. They've found what was left of it and say that it wasn't meant to do anything more than spread all that paint over a wide area. If it had been much stronger it could have done some real damage."

"It was powerful enough to get our attention," Starsky added quietly. "This was a warning, and for the life of me, Captain, I don't know what we're being warned of. Hutch has been sick, and I've been swamped with paperwork at the station for the past few weeks. It's been months since we've had anything really heavy go down. At least, heavy enough to threaten a cop killing."

"What have you got coming up in court?"

Starsky thought for a moment, but still couldn't think of anything that important. He shook his head. "No case that would account for this. If this was a warning, they should've left us more of a clue."

"We'll just have to wait and see if any calls come into the station. We'll start pulling your latest files and see if anything jumps out at us."

"When Hutch and I get back--"

Dobey held up a hand to interrupt him. "I'm not sure you should come back."

"Cap'n--"

"Detective Starsky," Dobey rumbled warningly. "Neither one of you is in much shape right now. You're not going to be at your sharpest, and we can't afford any slip-ups. I think you and Hutch should go to a safe house, take the time off to rest up, and see what we can come up with at the station."

As he was about to argue, he caught a glance of Nick stepping through the doors.

"Just a second, Cap'n." He turned and waved slightly, catching Nick's eye.

Dobey looked surprised at the sight of Nick heading toward them. "Isn't that your brother?"

"Yeah."

Nick came up to them both and handed Starsky a paper sack.

"I was about to go lookin' for you." Starsky looked at the sack. "What's this?"

"I just figured Hutch was gonna need somethin' to wear. I went back to your place and found some things that looked his size."

Starsky felt a flush of warmth for his brother and reached out to pat his arm. "Thanks, kid. You remember Captain Dobey?"

"Would I forget such an important man?" Nick asked, all smiles as he reached out to shake Dobey's hand.

"Nice to see you again, son." Dobey smiled crookedly as he shook the younger man's hand.

"Nicky just got in last night, Cap'n. he's moving to the city and was planning on staying with me for a while. Looks like his timing isn't the best."

Nick looked uncertainly from one man to the other. "Is Hutch okay? Am I in the way here?"

Starsky exchanged glances with Dobey. "You're fine, Nick. I'm still waiting to hear about Hutch, but I think he's okay. You can see how serious this was. That paint bomb in Hutch's car wasn't put there just for laughs. If someone is after him or us, then everyone around us could be in the line of fire."

"Your brother and I were just discussing the fact that they need to be somewhere safe for a while, until we can get this mess straightened out."

"And since I'm staying with big brother here...?"

"You have the good luck to be included in our party." Starsky sighed, walking over to dump the now cold coffee in the nearby garbage can. "It's not that I don't trust the other detectives or anything, Cap'n--"

"But you two never really trust anyone but yourselves." Dobey gave Starsky a stern look. "I know you've not had much call to do so, Starsky, but I don't see how you two can play Butch and Sundance without ending up the same way they did. If you've got any trust in me, then let me do my job."

Starsky knew Dobey was right when it came to playing this by the book, but he didn't like it. When it came to the people he cared about, he'd never been one to step back and let things play themselves out.

All heads in the room suddenly turned as a tall, worn-looking man in surgery scrubs came through the doors.

"Mr....uhm...Star-sky?" he announced to the room in general.

"That's me," Starsky said, walking swiftly to the doctor. "It's Detective Starsky, and I'm here for my partner, Detective Hutchinson. Have you seen him yet?"

The doctor glanced around to the many disappointed faces in the room and nodded for Starsky to follow him outside. Once there, he studied the clipboard in his hand.

"Your partner is worn out from the adrenaline shock from the blast, and he's still a little weak from the flu he had. Since he said he thought he'd lost consciousness for a few moments, we took some x-rays as soon as he came in, but there was no concussion. He will be a little hard of hearing for a few hours, but aside from that and a headache, he's fine. The lab will be a while on the mixture of the compound in the bomb, but it seems to be just ordinary paint so far. It's a non oil-based paint, or stain, so he shouldn't have any problems with skin irritation other than tenderness from the blast itself."

"So he's okay to come home?"

"As soon as he's dressed, he can go. I've signed him out already. He's was taking a shower when I left and should be waiting for you in the second examining room to the left."

"Great." Starsky could feel the relieved smile take over his face. "Thanks, Doc."

He went back to Dobey and Nick and told them the news.

"Get your partner ready for a ride and I'll get the ball rolling." Dobey turned then and left in a hurry.

Nick took Starsky's arm as soon as Dobey had disappeared around the corner.

"Davey?" Nick sounded confused and a bit frightened. "Do I really need to go with you guys? Couldn't I just go to Uncle Al's for a while?"

Starsky gave his brother a pat on the shoulder and put on a smile. "Nothing's set in stone yet, kid. You stay here and let me collect my partner, 'kay?"

Paper bag in hand, he left Nick in the waiting room and made his way to the guarded room that held his partner.

***

Hutch sat on the edge of the gurney in the cold waiting room, hating the exposed feeling the paper gown gave him. His hearing seemed to be pretty much back to normal, and the shower had helped him feel a lot better. He was bone tired, his head still hurt, his stomach was upset, and he knew he must still have splotches of red on the places he couldn't see. His hands were still a light red that looked like a bad sunburn, and he found himself rubbing at his fingers, worrying at the splotches.

So, now what do we do? I can't think of anything coming up that someone would want to warn us away from. You'd think that with our reputation they'd know it would just make us more determined to do what we had to do. Either they'd take their chances in court, or they'd really have to kill us.

The thought chilled him, making the coolness of the room remind him of the sterile cold of the morgue. They'd worked hard over the years to show people that he and Starsky played hardball--that there was no stopping them, not even death.

Getting burned on the job sure didn't sound as scary when I was younger.

Relief flooded him, as Starsky came through the door. His face was serious, but there was a crooked tilt to Starsky's lips that told him things could be worse.

"Nicky brought you some clothes." Starsky held up the bag as he came near, his eyes examining Hutch from head to foot.

"Looks like you could use some yourself." Hutch nodded to the large red smears on Starsky's jacket, feeling a bit sheepish. "Guess some of me actually has rubbed off on you."

Before he knew it Starsky was in his space, throwing strong arms around his waist, almost pulling him off the table. Hutch wrapped his arms around the strong shoulders, sighing into Starsky's curls as he held on tight, his stomach unknotting a bit. He relaxed into the warmth.

"Thought you didn't like soapy scenes," Hutch whispered near the top of Starsky's head as he held him tightly.

"Said I didn't like 'em. Didn't say I didn't have 'em," Starsky murmured, his voice muffled against the paper gown. They laughed a little at that, both still holding on. "And I tell you, Hutch, whoever did this to you had better be good at hidin', 'cause I do not like havin' the piss scared out of me like that. Now they've just made me mad."

"You and me both, buddy. But the question is, who are we mad at?"

Hutch squeezed Starsky hard, lifting him almost completely off his feet, then let him go. Starsky sighed and pulled back, his eyes searching Hutch's face.

"Dobey wants us at a safe house."

Hutch shook his head, not really surprised. "And what's that going to do? We disappear and the bomber probably gets what he wants. We're off the streets and our court cases are postponed or our statements are used. Then when we finally surface, we won't know if we outlasted him, or if he--or they--are still out there."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. We've never made it a habit of turning tail. But..."

Hutch saw the uncertain look cross Starsky's face. "But? Oh. Nick."

"If someone's been watching us, they know he's here. They'll know they can use him against me."

"Against us. But you're right. Maybe we should send him back to New York, then do what we do best."

"That's my thought, too. Hate to do it, but it'll be best to make sure he's out of the way."

"Dobey's not going to like this, but I think we can talk him around to our way of thinking." Hutch made moves to get off the gurney, and Starsky stepped back to give him room. He felt sore and stiff, but was hoping that a nap would help.

He delved into the bag, pulling out underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt. No shoes or socks. Dressed in what was available, he saw Starsky eyeing him questionably, then shook his head slowly.

"What?"

"You're not movin' very well, partner. You're still feelin' it, aren't you?"

"A little," he admitted, running fingers through his still damp hair. "Although, I was damn lucky it wasn't any more powerful than it was. Wouldn't hurt to get a nap in somewhere."

"We can do that at my place, bunker in and let Dobey keep an eye on us. Play it like it never happened; send Nicky on his way home and get some rest. Then Monday, we go back to work as usual."

"Sounds good," Hutch admitted, picking up the bag with his clothing. He wasn't looking forward to digging his gun and ID out of that soggy mess. He was going to see if he could sweet talk some slippers out of the desk nurse. Standing up, he caught a glance at Starsky, who was standing and shaking his head in consternation at him. "What now?"

"Nothin'. It's just that...well..."

"What?"

"You remember that clown costume Bigalow wore to the children's picnic at the park last year?"

He searched his memory for a moment. "Clown costume?" He couldn't place it.

"You know, the one where he had these huge overalls on, barefoot, with that red wig and that huge red nose?"

Hutch couldn't imagine how he could have forgotten. "Yes, I remember," he answered shortly, not understanding where this was coming from. "Why?"

Starsky smiled--a crooked, wicked smile. "Well, your hair isn't quite as red, but your mustache is much brighter than his nose was."

***

"I'm not going!" Nick followed Hutch and Starsky into the apartment, looking angry and put out.

Starsky felt angry as he glanced at the patrol car parked in front of the apartment, knowing there were a couple more up and down his neighborhood. He didn't enjoy feeling like a caged animal, and the argument with Nick hadn't helped. He had hoped getting his brother to fly home wouldn't develop into an argument, but it had. As soon as he'd called Dobey and dragged out reluctant permission to head home with an escort, he'd told Nick what they had in mind for him. He'd tried coaxing his brother into the idea, but was now out of patience.

"You are going!" Starsky walked up into Nick's space, hands on hips, bringing them nose-to-nose. His brother didn't flinch or back off. "You're going in that room to pack your things, or so help me, I will put you on that plane without a stitch to your name!"

"You just try it! Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? You may think you're some hot-shot cop around here, but this ain't no police state, brother! You want me outta here? Fine! But don't think you can toss my ass on an airplane if I don't wanna go!"

"Will you listen to me?" Starsky let the worry show in his face, putting a hand softly on Nick's shoulder. "This could get nasty. We don't know what the hell is going on or why. You could be a target for whatever piece of shit is out there waiting for us. Dobey might want us to go to a safe house, but Hutch 'n me don't work that way. We can't do our thing if we're being guarded. But if we stay free to hit the streets on Monday, then how am I supposed to be able to concentrate on what's going down with you still here, a target for all this?"

"I don't know! How do all the other cops handle it? Other cops've got family, kids and relatives hanging all over them, every damn day! How can they cope when you can't?"

"You don't understand how it works!" Starsky yelled in exasperation. "We don't work like other cops. We're out in the middle of the nastiest, most dangerous shit out there, and we play for keeps. Other cops are...are...other cops."

"And when is this going to change? When they put you six feet under?!" Starsky stepped back in shock at the anger he saw in Nick's eyes. Nick jabbed his finger in Starsky's chest, eyes blazing. "I think it's about time you looked at what the hell you're doing to yourself. This ain't no kind of life and you know it! You want to live with a death wish, then go right ahead. Get yourself killed playin' with fire. But I'm staying put, whether you like it or not!"

With that, Nick strode to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Starsky found himself standing in the front room, hands clenched in anger.

Why the hell doesn't he listen to me?! How can I concentrate on what's going on if I've got to babysit him?

He turned toward Hutch, who had settled quietly into the armchair, looking completely ridiculous with his blotchy skin and strange, strawberry-blond hair. "You could'a jumped in there to help," Starsky grumbled.

"Why?" Hutch asked softly. He shrugged slightly, eyes sympathetic. "You know damn well Nick doesn't have any reason to listen to me. He just would've gotten angrier because I was butting in."

"Yeah, well..." Starsky knew he was right. He sat down on the couch, leaning forward so Nick wouldn't hear him from the other room. "What are we gonna do?"

Hutch leaned forward, too, and Starsky tried not to be distracted by the remnants of red that kept trying to twist his stomach in knots. For a warning, it had more than done its job. Even if there had been a chance he could have forgotten his feelings during those horrible moments at the car, looking at the stains would have made it impossible. He had an urge to reach up, touch the blotches, as if that would make the horrible color go away. He had to clasp his hands together to keep from doing so.

"Starsk, listen. I think we need to rethink our situation here." Hutch's eyes held Starsky's with their seriousness. "Nick's right, we can't make him do what he doesn't want to do. He's going to stay stuck to you like glue, and I don't blame him. But we need to think about splitting up on this one."

Fear and anger flashed through him. "Split up? Are you nuts?! After what happened to you already?"

"ME, Starsk. That's what I'm talking about. They didn't symbolically blow you up. They did that to me. If they had wanted you, or the both of us, they certainly know what car we'd both be in during a large chunk of the week. I may be the only target, the only one they're interested in. If I go off on my own--"

"You'd be fuckin' nuts!"

"--with a police guard, and you took Nick to a safe house--"

"No!"

"Will you listen?! We both know Nick will stick with you, and if these guys are after both of us, they won't stop at going through him to get to us. Either we keep him with you, out of the way, and we all disappear until we get tired of hiding, or we go back to work and catch these bastards while Nick is out trying to find a job and a place to live. And you know that if they're after us, they can wait us out no matter how long we stay under. If we split up, you can dig around, find out who they are while I keep their attention."

"Damn it, Hutch! There's--"

{{Whump!}}

Starsky jumped as the world jolted. He was on his feet before he'd even had a chance to register the smoke tendrils that were leaking from the bottom of the bathroom door.

"Nicky! Shit!"

He and Hutch both broke into a run toward the bathroom, Starsky biting his lip at the sharp, cutting pain from his ankle. The door was opened before they got there, large clouds of stinging smoke billowing out and around the coughing, gasping figure that emerged.

A slight whiff of the gas burned its way down into his chest before Starsky could hold his breath. He had grabbed one of Nick's arms while Hutch grabbed the other, his own eyes starting to burn and water. Lungs itching for breath, Starsky helped steer Nick to the front door. Hutch had left them just long enough to undo the locks and open the door for them.

"AMBULANCE!" Starsky shouted raggedly toward the guards that were supposed to be watching them. He could hear the slamming of car doors and the excited shouts from the street, but his eyes were watering so badly he was too blind to see them. He headed toward the top of the stairs, turning Nick in that direction, needing to get the choking man out into the fresh air.

A second later, he realized the magnitude of his mistake. Time slowed even as his mind raced. Still blind, he shoved Nick down to the small space between the deck floor and the building wall, falling to cover him as he tried to twist backwards, hand searching where he couldn't see, trying to bring Hutch down as well.

"HUUU--"

He felt it happen, heard the dull, sharp "snick" of the shot as it went off in the distance, even as his fingers touched fabric, and Hutch's outline almost came into focus. In the same second, he heard Hutch's gasp echo the thud of impact, the force pulling the fabric out of his hands.

"--UUUTCH!"

Hell broke loose on the street and in the distance a motorcycle roared, but Starsky barely registered it. Shoving a still gagging Nick down and closer to the apartment wall, he turned toward his front door, blinking, trying to make out Hutch's form. Head down, he crawled toward the body in front of him.

"HUTCH!"

Hutch was lying on his side on the deck, facing Starsky. Arms wrapped tightly around his chest, half curled in upon himself, his long legs were working to push himself back over the threshold, into the smoky cover of the house.

Starsky shivered as he crawled frantically toward him, feeling smothered and blind. Even through his watering eyes, he could see the red stain that covered Hutch's chest, hear the labored breathing.

"Hutch?! Hutch?!" It was all he could do now, to whisper the words.

As he drew closer, he could make out the grimace of pain on Hutch's pale face. Finally getting close enough to touch, he grabbed Hutch's shoulders and pressed down on them, fearful that Hutch would damage himself more by moving too much.

"Hold still!" he pleaded, moving to put himself between Hutch and the outside world. Long experience telling him that the sniper was being pursued by the sounds of commotion on the street and the sirens in the distance, but he couldn't take the chance of there being a second gunman.

Hutch stopped moving and lay still. Wiping his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve, Starsky tried to clear his vision enough to see how bad the injury was.

"Officer down!" he shouted, trying to pull Hutch's arms away from his chest. Hutch groaned and relaxed, and Starsky pulled his arms away to inspect the red sticky patch in the middle of his partner's torso. Carefully, despite his thundering heart and shaking fingers, he ripped the shirt open, looking for the hole. He couldn't see one, and his fingers were telling him that the red mess on the shirt didn't feel right.

Not blood? More paint?

"SHIT!" Hutch cursed roughly, sounding as if he had swallowed gravel. Holding his trembling arms away from his torso as Starsky inspected him, he took deep, but careful breaths. "I...I don't th-think it was a real slug. I..."

Starsky checked the shirt again. Still no holes. Relief flowed through him like a torrent, and he took a deep, calming breath.

"You hold still 'til we get you checked out," Starsky ordered. He leaned down over Hutch, bent to whisper in his ear, as he heard thundering feet coming up his steps and the loud, furious commotion of an ambulance arriving. He could feel Hutch trembling. "You just hang on, now. Don't move 'til we're sure you're okay!"

Starsky held his place, as the deck seemed to swarm with officers and ambulance crew. He moved away reluctantly when an attendant came to look Hutch over.

Starsky scooted back to sit at the corner of the deck, leaning his back against the railing, taking deep breaths and letting the breeze dissipate the gas as he'd been taught in the academy. He knew the effects weren't long lasting and that the clean air flowing across the deck would help. He felt vulnerable, though, even though he could hear the way the street now sounded like a militarized zone, but he didn't dare leave Hutch or Nick. He glanced toward his brother and realized they were mirroring each other's positions. Nick was sitting up with his back against the house, as the ambulance attendant talked to him. His own eyes clearing a little, Starsky could see that his brother was breathing a lot better than before.

Stupid! Starsky admonished himself. How the hell could I be so stupid?! Dobey was right to yell at me. We were taking a stupid chance by coming back here. We should've agreed to go to a safe house straight from the hospital.

Starsky shook his head at himself and his wounded pride. He'd been so sure they could take care of it all themselves, but they'd both been suckered royally.

I should have realized as soon as the grenade went off that it was done to get us outside. Make us targets as we tried to escape the gas. But why Hutch again? It's my apartment; Nick and I were out the door first, yet it was Hutch who was hit. We've got to disappear for a while.

He wanted to believe that it would only be for a short time, but his throbbing ankle needed to heal and Hutch hadn't been up to par even before all the shit he'd been through today.

Whoever it is, is smart. That shot had to have been set up ahead of time, along with the tear gas grenade. They've got the skill and the nerve to take us out if we're not a hell of a lot more careful. Whoever "they" are, they've got the upper hand.

He glanced up as Nick was helped up by the attendant; he could see the worry and shock in his brother's face.

Awful hard way to get to know your big brother better, isn't it, kid? Welcome to my world.

***

Nicholas Marvin Starsky sat in the middle of the small bed on the second floor of the safe house, unwilling to turn on the light despite the quickly setting sun. He sat with arms wrapped tightly around his legs, chin on knees. He resisted the urge to rock back and forth as if he were still a child.

He, Davey and Hutch had been whisked away to the hospital, cleaned up and checked out in what had seemed like mere minutes after the second attack on Hutch. They had then been smuggled out of the hospital in some kind of plumbing van and emerged inside an attached garage in an unidentified neighborhood. Several undercover cops had been waiting for them, all dressed like normal, everyday people, which made Nick want to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

If any of those cops think for a minute we're really "safe" here, they're all nuts! If they want to find us, they'll find us.

Nick shivered, knowing how powerless he really was at this moment. The agreements he had made in order to get Davey off the force and out of the way of "certain people," hadn't included paint bombs and fake bullets. The real thing, one way or the other, should have done the job he had expected it to do. Hutch should be dead now. Then he would have been in place to help pick up the pieces of his brother's life, steering him back toward home and a better life.

What am I supposed to do now? Why play this cat-and-mouse game with us? They're going to ruin everything!

Nick sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face, listening to the noises of the older house and the quiet murmur of voices from the room next to his. Even now, Davey was seeing to his partner's welfare, making sure Hutch was safe and settled. The thought made Nick's stomach hurt with frustration and anger. He was Davey's family, not Hutch!

He should be here with me, damn it! He never should have been sent out here, never become a cop. I know he would have quit and gone home long ago, if Hutch hadn't had some sort of hold on him. He's the only reason Davey's still here. So help me, if I can just get Davey out of this alive, I'd be glad to do Hutch in myself!

And for someone who had never meant anyone harm in his whole life, who always took the easiest, less complicated road, the thought had a strangely satisfying feeling to it.

***

Starsky cautiously peeked from the side of the window shade, careful not to stand directly in front of it. The sun had set just minutes ago, and the soft light from the nightstand would only have shown his outline to anyone outside. The streetlights were on now, and there was quite a bit of traffic as families found their way home for the evening. Being Saturday, some of them would probably head out again and return late. It was going to be a long, tense night for all of them.

Still looks clear, but you can never count on that. Real professional hitmen move like ghosts.

He dropped the shade, feeling restless and useless. It was one thing to protect others in danger, and a whole other thing to be the one under protection. He didn't like the feeling and would rather have taken his chances on the street. If he'd only had himself and Hutch to worry about, he would be out there now. With Nick involved, he couldn't take a chance on leaving him, nor could he leave Hutch to face this alone.

He turned toward the bed, feeling a chill up his spine as he took in Hutch's supine form. Hutch was resting, one arm draped over closed eyes, looking calm and relaxed. Starsky knew he was far from sleep. Only those who knew him well could see the tension in the long, slim body. The clothing that had been brought to them as they cleaned up from the tear gas had consisted of a second set of sweats and shoes. The gray set Hutch had been given made the red splotches stand out starkly against his skin, making him look as if he were fresh from a mauling. He looked too much like a bloody corpse for Starsky's comfort.

Needing to remind himself how far from the truth that was, Starsky limped back to the bed. He tried to sit without jostling Hutch too much, ending up hip-to-hip with him. Placing his stocking feet on the top cover and wrapping his arms around his knees, he kept his eyes on Hutch's face.

Even sitting this close, where he could see there was no real damage, Hutch was a mess. The red stain that had splotched his skin and hair during the bomb explosion had missed most of the pale face, but the small amount of dye in the pellet that had hit him had done so with enough force to leave a round, darkish bruise on his chest. It had also splattered the features with tiny red specks. Starsky hated each and every one of them and couldn't wait for them to fade. They were too stark a reminder that Hutch could have easily been dead twice today.

Has this really been just one day? Whoever's after us is one sick bastard.

Hutch moved the hand over his eyes to wrap long, strong fingers around Starsky's bad ankle. "Next year, let's go away for your birthday," he said softly. His eyes opened slightly, wrinkles of amusement framing them.

Starsky felt himself blink stupidly in surprise. "Well, hell, I forgot about that. Guess we don't plan on doing this again next year, huh? How about we take a trip to Hawaii or the Bahamas? Then we'll only have sharks to worry about."

"Sounds good to me." Hutch squeezed his ankle, and Starsky winced slightly. "Sorry, I forgot," Hutch apologized, removing his hand. "How's the ankle?"

"Better than you, I'd say. Why you anyway?"

Hutch shrugged slightly, rubbing at the spot on his shirt that covered the small bruise. "Because I'm the brains of the outfit?"

Starsky could only grunt tiredly at the old joke.

"Because I'm in the way somehow?" Hutch continued, fatigue and frustration coloring his voice. "Because I will testify against them in the future? Because Prudholm isn't the only crazy out there with revenge on his mind? Hell, I don't know. Why not just take me out the first time? Why go to all this trouble to scare the shit out of us?"

Starsky sighed, feeling too weary to think very well. "Hell if I know. Maybe if we had a chance to go through our current files, pull the old ones, something would jog my memory. But I can't think what the advantage is to scaring us off, when we both could just as well have been dead on the first try. If that bomb had been in the Torino, they could've gotten us both in one shot."

They were both silent for a moment, Starsky knowing Hutch saw that image just as clearly as he did.

"If they're warning us in some way, then it would help to know what we're being warned of. You'd think they'd've made it clear by now." Hutch rubbed at his face with both hands, and Starsky could see the worry in the gesture. "If they just want to torture me before doing the deed, they're taking an awful chance that someone will stop them before they finish it. If they want revenge, you'd think they'd let us know why they're going to so much trouble."

Starsky unfolded himself to lie on his stomach, propping himself up on elbows as he leaned against Hutch. He picked at a few loose threads at the head of the bedspread, watching as he twisted them together between his fingers. There wasn't anything he could add to what Hutch had said. He'd been working at it mentally all afternoon, and he knew they just didn't have enough information to go on.

"Guess we'll just have to wait for Dobey to come through for us. 'Til then we stay low." He looked over at Hutch. "I'm really worried about Nicky," he confessed quietly.

"I know. So am I. It is a strange coincidence that this all started when he arrived."

Starsky frowned at Hutch. "That wasn't what I meant." He heard the sharpness in his own voice and took a breath before continuing. "I mean, if they're after me, then they could target Nicky next. Or go through him to get to me. If something else goes down...he's a civilian...he hasn't ever had to..." Starsky bit his lip and turned back to studying the threads he had twisted almost into a knot. "He's not a cop, Hutch."

"He has to be protected, no matter what," Hutch agreed softly, with no tinge of anger or bitterness Starsky could hear. "That's what we've sworn to do, protect all civilians. No matter what the cost."

Starsky knew he really hadn't needed to say anything. It was part of their job, the fact that no matter what, civilians and those under their protection were supposed to come first. He knew that if, or when, things went down, Nick would be protected at their expense. But Starsky felt as if something needed to be said between him and his partner. He worried at the twisted threads until they broke.

"He's my brother, Hutch, but you're my pal," Starsky said solemnly. "You know that, right? If it goes down wrong..." He snuck a glance at Hutch, the light blue eyes meeting his own.

Do you understand, Hutch, the things I've always had trouble saying? How important you are to me? What it means to work with you every day, to trust you more than anyone, and be best friends as well?

What if you don't know, and I really had lost you today?

As if seeing the struggle in his partner's features, over words that couldn't quite come, Hutch's eyes softened and he smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know."

Starsky realized it wasn't enough anymore. He'd never actually said it out loud. "What's that you're always tellin' me when I'm busy bein' an ass?" He smiled, feeling uncharacteristically shy around his friend. "Hutch, you know...I love you, but..." He reached over to a long, splotchy looking, orange-blond lock of hair that seemed to have a mind of its own and gave it a sharp tug, "...your new hair color stinks."

Hutch's smile seemed to take over his features, making them glow, banishing the tiredness and fatigue that had been there just seconds before. Then he seemed to blush a bit under the splotchy marks, as he chuckled and dragged his fingers through his brightly colored hair.

Starsky silently cursed himself for not being able to say it sooner. He knew Hutch understood how hard it was for him to voice his feelings out loud, but still, he could see how much it meant for him to hear it. He hadn't realized until now how important it had always been to hear Hutch say the same thing, no matter how well cushioned in a casual sentence.

Neither one said anything for a few moments, not looking at each other, but content to share the space.

"So," Hutch said. "We do what we can to keep Nick safe, get our act together and crack this case."

"That's the plan."

"How do you suggest we do all that?"

"Guess I'll see if we have something to eat around here, then we can try to get some sleep and wait to see if the sun comes up tomorrow." He sighed as he got up from the bed, his joints cracking and his ankle throbbing. He reached toward the nightstand and took the cleaned-up magnum, placing it on the bed near Hutch's hand. "You stay put for a while, get some rest, and I'll make the rounds. I'd better check in on Nicky, too. I may be a while."

Hutch nodded at him, understanding in his eyes. "Sure thing. I'll see if I can get my head together while you're gone."

"Get one that looks better, while you're at it." Starsky winked at him before shutting the door. "You really look awful!"

He shut the door on one of Hutch's more descriptive curses, smiling to himself.

The door to the room where he had stashed Nick was closed. He knocked lightly before opening it to darkness and felt himself tense up until his eyes adjusted and he could make out the shape on the bed.

Hiding, little brother? Can't say I blame you.

"Hey, where's the light?" He tried to sound casual as he searched for the switch, after making sure he could see that the shade was down. He blinked as the soft light came on. Nick was wincing as well, looking like a child in the middle of the bed. The sight twisted his heart, childhood memories he didn't have time to deal with flashed through his mind. How many times had he comforted his younger brother when he had found him on his bed, just like this?

"You okay?" He put on a slight smile as Nick turned toward him. The younger man looked different for a second--harder, colder--before his eyes softened.

"Probably not," Nick answered quietly. Starsky could see him force a smile as he unfolded himself and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "How're you?"

Starsky shrugged tiredly. "Got Hutch settled for a while. He's gonna be okay with a little rest." He moved to sit next to Nick, hearing his brother's harsh snort as he did so.

"I didn't ask about him."

Surprise filled him at the bitterness in Nick's voice. We're all tired and on edge, he reminded himself. He can't be blaming Hutch for this, can he?

"I'm okay, kiddo. 'Course, we don't go through stuff like this very often, so it's not something we ever get used to."

"Don't you?" Nick stood suddenly, moving to the dresser, his body language telegraphing anger throughout the room. "Isn't this just like all the other stuff you go through? You think I'm like Ma? That I really don't know what's going on here?"

Starsky held back his first response, wanting to deny the fear, to gloss over the dangers he had faced in his profession. There would be no kidding his brother with a "comfortable" version of how he lived. Nick deserved better than that.

"What do you want me to say?" Starsky asked sadly. "I don't have any idea what's going on. All we can do at this point is stay safe and let Cap'n Dobey do his thing. You know that I'd do anything to have kept you out of this."

"Really?" Nick snorted, sounding unconvinced. "Anything?"

"Yeah! You know I would!" Nick's doubt twisted like a knife in his guts. "How can you--?"

"Why is this happening, Dave?" Nick turned to him, face filled with fear and anger. "Is it really worth our lives, whatever it is you feel you have to do? Will it be worth it when they plant you six feet under? Or is my life also worth the price?"

The accusation stung, as did the blame in Nick's eyes. "Worth it?! You know better than that! I'd've done anything to keep you out of this! And as for me, hell, you think Hutch and I don't ask ourselves that every damn day?! Every time we hit the streets, we know we're doing some good. Maybe not much, but some. And every once in a while a miracle happens, and we know that what we're doing is important." "And how does the story end, big brother?" Nick looked at him, and he could see the fear in the younger man's eyes. "Huh? Tell me, am I just going to be left with picking up the pieces of our mother's heart when she gets that call someday? Is that how it's supposed to end, with Ma and me the sole survivors of your pride?"

The words were soft and fearful, but each one had hit Starsky like a punch in the gut.

We'll just know, won't we? We've asked ourselves the question a million different ways, and we've always come up with the same answer. We'll just know when it's not worth it anymore. Can we be that wrong? Are we fooling ourselves when we say that we've only got each other to answer to?

"I don't know," Starsky answered thickly. "But I don't turn tail, and neither does Hutch. You know that."

"I'm not talking about running! I'm talking about getting out while you still can, before you end up dead or maimed. Don't you think you've given it your best? Don't you deserve better? All you have to do is turn your badge in, pack it all up and come back home."

"This is my home, Nick." Starsky could see the hurt in his brother's eyes. "It's been home for a long, long time now. And it's not like Hutch and me have a death wish, you know. We've been talkin'--"

"Damn it, Davey! Can't we have one conversation without Hutch bein' involved?!"

"He's my partner!"

Nick's face closed to him then, as if the flicker of fury had never happened. "Yeah, I know, Davey. He's your buddy; I understand that. But it's you I'm worried about."

"Nick, I swear, when this is over with we can talk about it more. There are things you don't understand. If I wasn't doin' what I wanted to do, the way I needed to do it, I wouldn't be here."

Nick looked as if he'd pulled the rug out from under him, and Starsky could only reach out to grip a shoulder firmly.

"And look where that is, Dave," Nick replied sadly. "Look where we are now."

What can I say to that? he wondered sadly. He pulled Nick into his arms and held him tightly, feeling Nick's arms around him as well. There isn't anything I can say to make it better, is there?

"C'mon. Let's go down and get something to eat, huh? We're all famished and you'll feel better once you get something in your stomach. Whaddy'a say?"

Nick sighed deeply and let him go, giving him a lopsided, weak smile. "Okay. Sure. Whatever. Give me a minute."

Reaching up, Starsky mussed his brother's hair and gave him a smile he didn't really feel. He left Nick alone then, closing the door softly behind him.

Only one year older, and it feels like a million. He sighed, leaned against the hallway wall and closed his eyes for a moment. It came to him then that he'd missed his mother's call, and that she would be worried about them both. Guess I'd better get word to Dobey, have him call and tell her...tell her...something.

He started down the stairs, feeling the shakiness start its way through him. He needed to talk to their "honor guard" and get something to eat before he collapsed entirely.

We've got to find out who's doing this. We can't go much longer this way. At least...I can't.

***

Nick sat back on the bed, anger and disappointment filling him. It was all he could do to rein himself in as Dave had turned to leave. He knew he'd pushed his brother as far as he could, yet still hadn't gotten anything accomplished.

Why can't you listen to me? You don't need anyone here! You don't need this life.

It didn't surprise him that Davey hadn't taken him seriously. He was beginning to realize he had severely misjudged the part Hutch must play in the equation. At first, the realization that only one in the partnership could be saved had horrified him, now he was beginning to look forward to seeing the blond interloper taken out of the picture altogether. Once Hutch was gone, Nick would make sure he was there, as a loving shoulder for his brother to lean on.

I may not know what the hell is going on out there, but I do know that until Hutch is gone I'll never get him one inch out of this city. Somehow, some way, I've got to help it happen, as soon as possible. Until I find my chance, I'll just have to wing it.

Taking a breath, steeling his face to hide his true emotions, Nick opened the door to go downstairs and join his brother and the other cops.

He would just have to keep his eyes open and take whatever came his way.

***

(snick)

The sound was familiar, yet strange. Something was wrong, and Hutch needed to attend to it.

(snick)

(snick)

Feeling dizzy, groggy and sleep heavy, his mind wrapped itself around the curious sound, trying to place what it was.

(snick)

Opening bleary eyes, Hutch could see the large, illuminated clock next to him.

(snick)

He understood then. It came from the clock as each minute passed and a new numeral was revealed.

(snick)

He wondered why it had been so important to wake up. Why did he have the feeling he should be in a panic?

Ignoring the small sound, he focused his attention on the time itself. It was 4:37 a.m.

I'm in the safe house, in bed. The house sounds quiet...

Not totally quiet, he amended, hearing the sounds of a television on downstairs. He felt as if there were something vitally important he was missing.

Groaning, he sat up and surveyed the room. It looked like it should in the early morning hours. Rubbing at his aching head, not sure he wouldn't be sick if he moved, he tried to remember what had happened last night.

He was tired and tried to rest after Starsky had gone to talk to his brother. He could hear sharp, loud words from the room next to him and found it difficult to keep his mind from running like a hamster on a wheel. He'd been relieved when Starsky came to get him for dinner, hoping the distraction would help him relax.

He and Starsky both knew the four officers who had been assigned to protect them. Detectives Sharon Nicols, Theo Runnels, Roger Bixler and Thomas O'Flannery were all good officers, and Hutch had to admit that when seen on the street, none of them would have been taken for cops. Any of the four would be able to come and go, get groceries and run errands, and no one would give them a second glance.

Dinner had been a simple affair of cold-cuts and beans, none of which Hutch felt he could stomach. The coffee had helped, though, so he had folded himself around a cup as they settled at the table with Nick, Nicols and Bixler to eat and discuss what had happened and what the plans were.

Hutch hadn't been surprised to find the other officers had nothing new to add, and that the set-up for the safe house was standard. Two officers would be on duty at all times, while the other two slept, ate or relaxed. There were random patrols from black-and-whites that would drive by and keep an eye on them, but not too many. Every two hours, they would call in to the station to make their "All's Well" report. Other than that, it looked as if they were going to get to know each other pretty well. Starsky had filled him in on his call to Dobey, who had had no new information for them. So far, the crime labs hadn't found anything on the bomb fragments that would lead them any further. There had been no fingerprints on the tear gas grenade found under the cupboard in Starsky's bathroom, and no one had gotten a good enough look at the sniper to do them any good.

Satisfied that there was nothing he could add to the situation, he had called it an early night, leaving the others to stand their watch or visit in front of the TV. Starsky had seen him up to his room, concerned that he wasn't feeling well. They had talked for a few moments, Starsky relating that he'd asked Dobey to call his mother for him and tell her they'd been called in on an important case and would call later. Hutch could see how much that had bothered him, but agreed that Rachael wouldn't have been an easy one to try to fool over the phone. She would hear the strain in her older son's voice unless he was very, very careful. Then he had prepared for bed with the new supplies stocked by the Department, and borrowed a robe from the closet that didn't have much else in it.

If nothing happened, why do I feel so worried? Why am I awake? If it had been a nightmare, wouldn't I remember it?

Head pounding, he swung his feet off the bed and was trying to push himself to his feet when he noticed the nightstand and felt a sudden chill.

His gun was gone.

I put it there myself!

Adrenaline flowing through his system, he could feel his mind clearing, memory coming back.

I was resting...trying to drift off...the heater kicked on...it smelled...wrong! A gas! A knock-out gas!

He remembered it then--the panic he'd felt as he lost consciousness, knowing that the moment he understood they were under attack it had been too late.

Heart pounding, Hutch moved to throw open the shade and force open the window, leaning out to take one deep breath of crisp, early morning air to help clear his head. Holding his breath, he opened the door and barged into the room next to him, flipping on the light. He saw Nick breathing deeply in what looked to be sleep, but unmoved by the noise of the intrusion. Hutch ran to open the window in this room, taking another deep breath before moving across the hall to the next.

He was so shocked, he almost took an involuntary breath. In the room across from Nick's the light showed him that there was no need to open the window. Bixler, lying on his side and facing the door, had looked at first glance to be peacefully asleep. Hutch knew in an instant the man was dead; a small red hole in the center of his forehead and the splatter of the exit wound behind the body told the tale clearly.

Hutch felt himself trembling as he rushed to the next room, fearing to find his partner dead as well.

He knew before he flicked on the light that the body on the bed was not Starsky's. Lungs burning, he headed to open the window, needing another breath. He glanced at Detective Nicol's body as he passed by, sickened by the sight of the exit wound that had taken the back of her head away. She, too, looked as if she had been asleep when murdered.

Filling his lungs to capacity, Hutch checked the hall bathroom and didn't hesitate a second when finding it empty. He ran down the stairs fearing the worst. No one had come up to check on the loud noises he was making, and the knowledge terrified him. Almost tripping down the stairs in his haste, he rounded the corner to the front room and stopped short. O'Flannery's body lay on the floor, looking as if he had tried to reach the phone before collapsing. Almost shaking in panic, Hutch ran to the back of the house, to the kitchen that overlooked the back yard. Runnels was there, sitting on the floor with his back to the cabinets, looking like he was sneaking in a nap. He, too, had been murdered.

Throwing open the downstairs bathroom door and finding the room empty, he raced to the only room left. The garage.

Opening the door, his mind registered the fact that it was unlocked. He blinked as he flipped on the switch. The garage was empty. There was no Starsky in the house and no car in the garage.

They've got him! he thought fearfully, drawing in a much needed breath. Feeling the cold cement against his bare feet, he ran to the garage door and lifted it open, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour.

They've killed the others, yet left Nick and me alive. Who the hell are they?!

As the garage door rolled up, he ducked under it and jogged toward the street, yelling and waving frantically as he spotted a black-and-white far down the street. He stopped when the lights started to flash and the unit picked up speed as they spotted him.

Feeling like a deer in its headlights, standing in the middle of the street dressed only in boxers, Hutch started to shake in earnest, not knowing or caring if it was caused by shock or the cold air.

Damn it, Starsky! Where are you?

***

Nick Starsky sat in a corner of Captain Dobey's office, a blanket over his shoulders and a warm cup of coffee in his hands. He still felt cold and hollow inside, even though the cup of coffee was by no means his first. He couldn't guess how many cups he had held during those early morning hours. Had he actually emptied any of them?

Where the hell is he? Why did they take him? Things weren't supposed to happen this way!

He felt like he was shaking, although his hands looked steady. He could only think of Dave, wonder where he was, how he was, fear making him feel as if he were numb. He wasn't even sure how much time had passed since he had woken up in a house full of the dead. All he remembered were the sirens waking him up, stumbling drowsily downstairs and staring in shock at the dead cop on the floor in front of him. When a near naked Hutch came bursting into the room with a couple of uniformed cops behind him, his face full of fear and dread, Nick had felt his soul freeze up.

The wrong one! The wrong one!

Hours must have passed. Somehow he ended up at the police station, tucked into a corner as everyone rushed into action, doing what cops do. Even now, there were loud voices and arguments that vied for attention with the constantly ringing phones, yet Nick felt as if the world was moving too fast for him to catch up.

We made a deal! They can't do this to me!

And it was strange that the only other person who hadn't been rushing frantically, the only other one who seemed to be living in the same time warp he was, was the one person he had hoped never to see again.

Raising his eyes from his cup, he looked toward the window at Hutch, who had been silent the majority of the time, eyes fixed out the window, as if he could see Dave from there.

Hutch turned in his direction, and Nick looked back into his coffee cup.

Afraid that Hutch would see the guilt in him.

And all his mind could do was go around in circles.

***

Hutch didn't want to be where he was--barricaded in Dobey's office--even though it was the nerve center in the search for Starsky. He wanted to be outside on the streets, following his nose. His guts were tied in knots with the need to get out and do something, but there was Nick to consider, and Dobey, who wouldn't agree to let him go back to the streets.

Hours had passed with no news, despite the fact that every department was working its tail off to solve this case. Four good cops had been killed, and there was going to be hell to pay until they were avenged. The sun had risen, and the world outside Dobey's window went about its normal business, just as if nothing had happened. And inside Parker Center, despite all the manpower that was now focused on the situation, they still had nothing to go on.

Nothing. Not a word, or a clue, or a wise word from Huggy.

Hutch tried not to let the panic that lived in his spine grow any more than it had. Every time he turned around, he wanted Starsky to be there. Every time he had something to say, he wanted Starsky to be there to hear it. He felt halved, weakened, without Starsky nearby. That was why waiting was always the worst. It gave a man too much time to dwell on what was missing and to imagine horrible scenarios, despite how hard he tried not to. Hutch had too much truth, too many memories, to base his nightmares on.

Dobey was forever on the phone, as various people continued to come in and out like some military headquarters in the middle of a war. Now he was talking to the captain of Narcotics, who had lost two of his men at the safe house. The two were trying to make plans, figure out the best strategies to find Starsky and bring the killers to justice. Hutch was not surprised to hear that another, more distant, safe house was in the plans.

Another place for them to hide him away, farther from Starsky.

Maybe for Nick, but not for me. I'm not running anymore. If I have to wait, then I'm waiting here.

Hutch glanced at Nick again. Even the slight resemblance to his brother made him more and more painful to look at. The kid had been quiet for a long time now, but seemed to be holding his own.

Hutch was just about to turn back to the window, half an ear on Dobey's phone conversation, when he saw Nick stiffen, eyes on his cup. Watching closely, Hutch saw his hand start to shake slightly before he looked up. There was new fear in Nick's eyes.

Hutch didn't know why he was certain this was important, why he had to make his way to Nick as casually as he could, but he was standing over the younger man before he even realized it. No one else in the busy room seemed to notice that he and Nick were now on a wavelength all their own.

Reaching down, he took the waxed cup out of Nick's hands, as if he would share the drink with him as he would his partner. Nick let it go, watching Hutch as he tipped it up. At the bottom, where it had been covered with coffee, there was a message written in black ink.

Silence is life

Starsky and Hutchinson only

Noon

475

Hutch felt a jolt, as if he had fallen back into reality, his mind growing clearer as it seemed he now had something to do.

Silence is Starsky's life, and Nick is the only Starsky left. We're both to be at this place at noon. Just the two of us. But what does 475 mean? Where is that?

It hit him then, that the kidnapper not only knew where they were and could get this message to the right person, but they also had access to the station's phone system.

They're going to call us, at that extension, at noon. That sounds like an interrogation room.

Suddenly, he felt as if all eyes were on him, the fear inside him threatening to grow a bit more. He bit his lip harshly, welcoming the pain that would help clear his head.

Surrounded by bad guys, and worse--bought-off cops. If I make a wrong move now, the kidnappers will hear about it as soon as it happens.

Damn it, Starsk! It's a "Me and Thee" time if ever there was one. Where are you?

Catching Nick's worried eyes, Hutch crumpled the cup into a ball, tossing it into the nearest trash container as he nodded slightly, letting Nick know that he understood the message.

Nick nodded back, then glanced at the wall clock. Hutch followed his eyes, already well aware of the time.

They had forty-five minutes to find that extension and be ready to pick up the phone.

It was going to be a very, very long forty-five minutes.

Leaving the office, with Dobey too busy to notice, Hutch managed to drop by the switchboard and get the location of extension 475. He was right, the extension was a phone down in one of the soundproof interrogations rooms located in the basement. What chilled him was the verification that the phone call could only come from inside Parker Center. The phones in those rooms had no access to outside lines. Someone had delivered that note to Nick. Someone was going to make that call from within the building. And that someone, or a myriad of people, would be watching Hutch and Nick closely as well. There was no longer any safe place amongst his brother cops.

A few minutes before noon, Hutch was back in Dobey's office. It was painfully clear to Hutch that he wasn't going to have the time to do anything except exactly what the kidnappers wanted. While he trusted Dobey with his life, and Starsky's as well, there wasn't going to be time to talk to him, or even give him any sort of signal, about what was going down.

I don't know what else to do, Starsk, he thought to his missing partner, as the last few seconds of decision he'd allowed himself slipped by. He knew Starsky would be against bringing Nick into this any more than he already was, but Hutch felt Nick wasn't any safer here than anywhere else. It's got to be me and Nick, alone, the way they want it. At least until after the phone call. Then...then I'll have to play it by ear.

With only five minutes left, Hutch walked up to Nick, who had been watching him nervously. With a hand on Nick's shoulder, Hutch pulled him to his feet.

"Captain? I think I'd better get Nick downstairs for something to eat. He's not looking so hot."

Dobey, busy looking through a report delivered by a uniformed officer, nodded. Sympathetic black eyes looked up at Hutch, measuring him. Dobey grunted, turning back to his reading. "While you're down there, you get yourself something to eat. And that's an order, Detective."

The two of them left Dobey's office, and, as Hutch led Nick into a crowded elevator, he could tell it was all Nick could do to keep quiet. Hutch knew he must have a thousand questions, but now was not the time, and he was relieved to see Nick was in control enough to keep to himself a few minutes more.

Once downstairs, Hutch had another tense moment as he opened the door to interrogation room number seven. If it had been in use, he would have had to bluff his way inside, but the room was empty, and with a sigh, Hutch shut the door firmly behind them.

"What the hell is going on?" Nick growled tensely, as he paced impatiently around the room. "Why did I get that note? How did I get that note?"

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, Hutch closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, needing to clear his head for whatever happened next.

"Don't pretend to be so naive, Nick. You know as well as I do that every person has their price. Even cops." Hutch sighed tiredly, feeling his own nervousness and impatience fight to come to the surface.

Nick snorted rudely as his nervous pacing increased. "Not my brother. Not Davey!"

"No, not Starsky." Hutch found himself smiling slightly at the childlike certainty in Nick's voice. Don't we all have our price, though? I guess it depends on what we value, and what we're offered.

Hutch's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He had it in his hand even before he'd thought about it.

"Yes."

"Hutchinson." The voice was deep and gravelly. Hutch didn't recognize it. "You catch on quickly. Glad to see you know when to keep quiet."

"I want to talk to him."

"No dice. We're not playing kids' games here, Detective. You want to know he's alive, then you'd better do what you're told."

"What is it you want?"

"What do you think I want?"

Hutch clenched his jaw, swallowed thickly. "You want me."

A deep, raspy chuckle vibrated the phone, and the sound made Hutch's skin crawl. "Smart boy. Let me tell you what I want, in person. I've got a debt that needs to be repaid, Hutchinson, and if not you, then your partner will do just fine. You and that brother of his will take an unmarked car down highway 792, southbound, and get off at Exit 93. There's a block of old empty factories down there. You've got one hour. Come unarmed."

"No deal. I'll come, but Nick stays here."

"Why, Hutchinson, don't you care about your partner?"

Hutch heard patient amusement in the voice, realizing that the needling was part of the game. Hutch couldn't afford to have Nick be one of the game pieces.

"Whoever you are, you can cut the crap! You want me, you got me, but Nick's not going anywhere."

"Such brave words..." The voice drifted off in a soft chuckle and the line went dead.

"Where are we going?"

Hutch glanced at him and could see the determination in the body and features. "Nick, look, you can't--"

"Like hell I can't! If they want me there, then I'm gonna be there! If my being there means saving Davey--"

"Think, Nick! Whoever these bastards are, they want to play head games. They've been playing head games with us all along! They can use you against us, to torture or kill, just to get their jollies."

Nick's laugh held no amusement. "And they can't do that here? Today or tomorrow? We don't have any choice...unless you just want to walk away from Davey, and your partnership."

"Damn you, Nick," Hutch hissed. "Starsky wants you safe. You don't belong in this, and your brother would never forgive me if I let you come."

"They say differently." Nick's gaze didn't waver. "I'm going, Hutch!"

Hutch sighed and turned away, wishing more than ever that his partner was around to talk to.

I know that you want Nick safe, Starsk, that you'd trade your life for his in a moment. But if it's his presence that will keep you alive...

"Fine," Hutch conceded softly. He opened his eyes to see Nick's triumphant expression. "We'll both go. But there's something we need to do first."

"Great, then let's do it!"

"Sit still; I'll be back in a minute. I'll need a map."

Nick was sitting when Hutch returned, his hands full of folders and papers. Nick's triumphant look turned to shock when Hutch leaned over and distracted him by dumping the papers into his lap.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nick jumped up, pulling frantically at the wrist Hutch had smoothly cuffed to a bar built into the table.

Hutch turned his back on Nick and savagely ripped the hand set off the wall phone. "You can't move that table, Nick," Hutch said casually. "It's bolted to the floor for a reason. The cops down the hall have orders to ignore you for an hour, while I leave, to let you rant. You probably won't have that long before Dobey puts in a search for us both, though."

"They wanted me there, damn it! Are you crazy?!"

Hutch turned away from Nick to open the door, then paused, looking back at the scared and furious young man. "Sometimes, I think your brother and I both are," Hutch said quietly, giving Nick a small smile and a shrug before shutting the door.

***

Starsky didn't know how long he'd been chained to the pipe in the empty cavernous building, but it had been hours since he had woken there. He had yelled and cussed his lungs out, making his throat burn with thirst, but no one had answered him, or had come to check on their prisoner. He had then taken some time to try to figure out how to get the thin chain from around his bad ankle, but it was too tight to move, already semi-embedded in the swollen flesh. All he had on were his jeans and t-shirt. His belt was gone, as were his socks, shoes, holster and gun. His pockets were empty. Not even fingernail clippers to work on the lock with.

There wasn't even a chunk of concrete or rock he could use to pound away at it with, although there were several large chunks well beyond his reach. He tried to figure out where he was. The building was large, the walls concrete block, and the windows high and empty of glass. It looked like an old factory, which could be anywhere. And it was cold, but not dangerously so. At least, not until nightfall, anyway. He had some hope that the cold would reduce the swelling in his ankle, then maybe he could slip the chain off. Eventually.

All he had been left with, to create any sort of advantage in this situation, was to rest and listen for what would happen next. He hoped he wasn't just left here to die of thirst, although it certainly seemed a good possibility. He tried not to wonder too much at how they got him out of the safe house. He had a vague memory of sitting in front of the television, having tucked Hutch and Nick in for the night. He couldn't sleep and had decided to keep the other cops company. He must have drifted off. After that, there was nothing but waking up as a captive. He tried not to worry about the others, so pretended to think of something else.

At some point, as his mind wandered, he realized he heard the sounds of footsteps drawing closer. Many of them. He tried to focus on them. Three or more people?

The footsteps stopped for a moment, then only one set continued on, coming closer.

Starsky decided to sit and wait for his company, see which way the wind would blow. He didn't have much choice, actually.

It took only a minute for someone to reach the open doorway.

Starsky studied him as he came nearer. The man was tall and well dressed, with craggy features and a head full of dark hair that was brushed liberally with gray. The man smiled at him, bringing a cigarette to his lips, looking as if he were waiting for a revelation.

It came to Starsky, suddenly. "Callendar! The last time I saw you was when I put you back on that plane to Morocco!"

"Congratulations, Detective," Callendar replied in that gravelly voice that Starsky remembered from years ago. But the man looked different, thinner, older than he should have been. Almost too changed to recognize. "I'm thrilled that you remember."

How long had it been since Hutch had almost died of the plague? Callendar had been the source of the disease and the cure, and Starsky remembered how frantic he had been to find Callendar as Hutch lay dying in the hospital. Despite the politics that came into play when Callendar--a world-renowned hitman--had turned himself in, Starsky had kept his word. He had put Callendar on a plane to Morocco, himself, even as the mayor argued with the Feds over keeping faith with the mayor's promised immunity. But Starsky had given his word, as well as the mayor's, that if Callendar came in, if he allowed his blood to be used to save those dying of the disease, that he could leave on the first plane to any country that would take him. By the time the Feds realized Callendar was mobile, he had slipped away.

But this man, the Callendar that stood before him, seemed a mere shadow of the man Starsky had put on that plane.

"This is all your doing, isn't it?" Starsky asked, sure of the answer. Callendar was one of the few who had the talent to do what he did and not leave a trace. The man wasn't highly paid for nothing.

Callendar took a drag of his cigarette, then nodded slightly.

"Why?"

"I repay my debts, Detective."

"And I'm assuming that Hutch and I are part of that repayment?"

Callendar studied Starsky, then tipped his head to the side. "In a way. Not in a way you're going to like, of course, but sometimes we have to learn things the hard way."

"I don't understand," Starsky admitted with a sigh, feeling that Callendar was in no mood to make things clear.

"Good. You aren't supposed to. When you do understand, it'll be too late."

The tall man turned away from Starsky, leaving the way he came. In a moment, four other men appeared and surrounding him silently.

They subdued him, though he fought as well as he could. He got a few good licks in. Then he was blindfolded, hands tied, and gagged before they took off the chain. The ankle hurt like a sonuvabitch, but at least he could still walk on his own.

They went for a walk, although not very far, and Starsky knew they must be miles from anywhere, because they didn't make any effort to hide the fact that they had a captive. Neither were there any sounds of traffic or crowds, just a few cars in the distance that could suggest a highway.

He was taken outside, across the ground to the steps of another building, then into what sounded like a large room that could be in another warehouse. There was once again cold cement under his feet as he limped inside, then a hallway and a door opening. Starsky was pushed inside and manhandled into a metal chair, his hands tied to the back of the chair this time, with nylon rope that bit into his skin. His blindfold was removed, and Starsky blinked as he looked around. The room looked like an old office--ugly, broken utility tile on the floor, plastered walls that had seen better days, and no window to the outside. There was only his chair and a television on a stand across from him. The rest of the room was empty except for his captors.

"I don't like this, Callendar," a man behind Starsky growled. "We should've just finished him off at the safe house, along with the other cops."

Starsky felt a jolt. Dead cops at the safe house? Hutch and Nicky?! What happened?

"They don't pay you for your IQ, do they, asshole?" Callendar snapped savagely.

"Hey, you don't have any right--!"

"Don't I, though?"

Starsky jumped slightly in the chair as a gun went off, almost deafening him as the sound echoed in the small room. The heavy, fleshy sound of its impact sounded behind him as a body fell, hitting the ground solidly. The coppery smell of blood wafted by Starsky, making his stomach roll even worse.

There was a scramble as the other two men moved toward their fallen comrade.

"Are you nuts?!" one of the men yelled, sounding surprised. "You just can't--"

"He disobeyed orders!" Callendar hissed tightly, fury in his voice. "I am running the show here! Your boss paid me well, with provisions that I do the job as I see fit. No second-guessing allowed. Your orders were to leave everyone in that house alive, not pick and choose who you were going to put a bullet in! You two are just lucky he was the only one who pulled the trigger in that house or you'd be on the floor with him."

The two men behind him stood silently for a moment, and Starsky could almost feel the fear that must be running through them. Whoever they worked for, they were certain to know Callendar's reputation, and it wasn't worth their lives to disobey him.

"Now that we have that settled," Callendar continued, casually putting the gun back into his jacket pocket. "Get that waste of skin out of here. We don't have much time."

The body was half carried, half dragged out the door, dripping a bloody trail. As the others did as they were told, Callendar came near Starsky, leaning close to his face. Starsky could smell the heavy cigarette smoke that clung to the man like a cloak.

"I told you I have a debt to repay, Detective, and that idiot is but a small part of it. But hear this. One of the ways I've chosen to repay my debts is with the truth. Keep your ears open. What the hell you do with what you see and hear is your own concern."

Callendar turned and walked away, coughing slightly. He was on the other side of the room when the other men came back. Starsky could see they were nervous, one looking downright scared. He didn't blame them.

"Gentlemen," Callendar announced, pausing to take a drag on a newly lit cigarette. "Get Detective Starsky prepared. Time to get this show on the road."

***

Hutch sat impatiently behind the steering wheel, eyes on the empty parking lot around him. He'd had no trouble grabbing a car from the undercover cars in the police garage and had made good time to the deserted factory. There was a whole factory complex that filled the area like a ghost town. The front gate looked as if it had once been rusted shut, but it had been left open, signaling to Hutch that this was the right place. The old street led into a parking area circled by huge open buildings that looked long stripped of anything of value. Large truck docks sat open like the mouths of old caves, doors and windows were missing, broken or rusted, and dirt had blown everywhere over the complex. Not knowing where to go once there, Hutch turned the car back toward the one entrance and waited. The time set for the meeting was almost up.

He didn't have long to wait; the sound of an engine, fairly close, signaled that someone was on the way. Hutch was out of his car, before the other pulled into the parking lot. Only one man was driving, and when he got out of the car Hutch saw there was a gun trained on him.

With his own hands out at his sides, showing that he was unarmed, Hutch watched the man walk toward him. He was tall and broad, with dark hair that was thickly striped with gray. His face was rough and a bit pale, the eyes looking a bit sunken. The man moved stiffly and looked hollow, as if he weren't very well.

I should know him. I've seen him before. But where?

"Detective Hutchinson. I take it you don't remember me?" The man smiled slightly, amusement in his voice and features

"Should I?" Hutch asked in a casual tone, wishing he could place him in his memory.

The tall man shrugged casually. "No reason you should, since we've never been properly introduced. You were a bit under the weather at the time. But I know your partner. He certainly moved Heaven and Earth to find me when that 'plague' hit the city."

"Callendar." The name and identity hit Hutch in a rush. When he had recovered from the plague enough to take an interest in the outside world, Starsky had told him about Callendar, how he had come in when he found out Richie was dying. Starsky had called in favor after favor to make sure the man was out of the country before a government agency, or Roper's men, had decided they wanted Callendar for themselves. Starsky had gotten Callendar on a plane as soon as the man had been able to walk. It was a deal with the devil that Starsky had kept, no matter how much it had galled him to set Callendar free.

"Where's Starsky?"

"Waiting for you, wouldn't you think?"

"Is he okay?"

Callendar nodded. "So far, so good, Detective. As long as I get my way."

"I want to see him."

Callendar laughed, the sound rough. "I bet you do. Everything in its own time."

"Someone must have paid you an awful lot to get you back to the U.S. Are we really worth that much effort?"

"Let's just call this a personal debt," Callendar answered, looking unhappily at the car Hutch had arrived in. "I'm very disappointed in you, Hutchinson. You don't follow orders very well, do you? How can I have a party without you both?"

"You have me. That's all you're going to get."

Callendar looked at him closely for a minute, seeming to measure Hutch in some way. Then the hand with the gun gestured toward a group of old buildings at the end of the large, empty factory complex. "Let's go for a walk."

Hutch heard faint sounds from behind him. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end as he felt eyes on his back. Turning slowly, careful to keep his hands in sight, he looked up and saw two men on the roof of the factory. Both had rifles aimed at him.

Looks like I'd better behave myself.

Callendar waved once more toward the buildings in the distance, his voice less amused than it was a moment ago. "Move it, Hutchinson. Don't make me repeat myself."

***

No matter how much he twisted and turned in the chair, there seemed to be no give in the ropes that bound his hands behind him, his feet to the chair legs, nor in the gag that bit into the corners of his mouth. Starsky was being watched by one man with a gun, but his captor didn't seem as interested in him as he was the in television that had been switched on. So, while his guard was watching a view of an empty room that played across the screen, Starsky kept trying to loosen his bonds.

I won't be able to do much, even if I can get away. My hands are going numb. But I can still kick the sucker into next week if I can just get something to work loose!

Starsky tried not to think that there wasn't a chance of escaping. He had to get away!

Movement on the screen caught his eye, and, as he looked up, the guard moved behind him where Starsky could no longer see him. His eyes were caught by the screen as he saw Hutch shoved into view.

Ah, shit!

Starsky's heart felt as if it had fallen a thousand feet. He watched as the television showed Hutch being tied into a chair, Callendar standing to the side and watching. The television was only black-and-white, but it was more than enough to show the determined set of Hutch's shoulders and the angry, cold flash of his eyes.

I hope you've got Dobey on your tail, buddy, or we're in a hell of a lot of trouble.

"Where's Starsky?" Hutch demanded, his voice thin and tinny over the cheap speaker. "You've got me, why don't you let him go?"

"Oh, our party will be complete soon enough, Detective. I'm a very meticulous man, you see, and I don't like it when orders are not followed. You should have done what you were told."

Callendar moved toward the center of the room and placed his gun in the middle of an old metal table, muzzle toward Hutch. "Tell our guest it's time to join us," he barked to the man closest to the door.

The order was followed, and Starsky felt as if the last of his strength was being drained from his body when he saw Nick come through the door, another thug at his back.

Ah, damn it to hell, Nick...

Only someone who knew Hutch well would have seen how shocked he was at Nick's arrival. Nick looked a bit shell-shocked as well, and Starsky's heart went out to him.

Callendar ordered the other men out of the room, leaving only the three of them. He laughed, slipping an arm around Nick's shoulder. "Surprised to see a friend, Hutchinson? Why, Nick here has been a big help to me and my employer."

Starsky felt his breath catch. All he could do was stare at Nick's profile, willing his brother to look his way, just so he could figure out what he was up to.

"Nice try, Callendar," Hutch said roughly. "But I know Nick--"

"You don't know nothing!"

Starsky felt himself jerk in surprise at Nick's sudden outburst, at the way he jerked roughly away from Callendar to stand defiantly in front of Hutch.

"You don't know shit about me, Hutchinson!" Nick shouted. "You think you know me 'cause of what Davey tells you? Well, let me tell you something! You're just some guy Davey works with, someone who seems to think he's got more claim on my brother than I do. You think I wouldn't realize that you're just some goddamned queer who thinks that just because my brother puts up with you that he's in love with you or something. I've seen how you are around him, Hutchinson, and you're pathetic! Davey's gonna be a lot better off without you around, screwing up his life!"

Starsky felt numb, his mind whirling with the need to find a way to explain Nick's words and reactions.

He's acting! Gotta be acting! He probably thinks he can get himself out of this if he plays their game. If only I knew what kind of game they've got going on--

"You see, Hutchinson," Callendar continued, "your friend, Nick, didn't just arrive out of the blue. He's known for quite a while that there are a few important men out there that want you and your partner dead. But he's a good brother and has managed to convince those men that if only you were removed, Detective Starsky would be a lot easier to deal with. Isn't that right, Nick?"

Nick turned to look at Callendar, his back to Starsky's view. His next words were hesitant, uncertain.

"You said I could take Dave back as soon as this is over with. Then we're home free, right? You won't bother him anymore?"

Callendar nodded. "That's what I said. As soon as Hutchinson is out of the picture, you get to leave with your brother. You get him to retire, leave the area or agree to look the other way, and my employer is willing to leave him alone."

"Then get it over with." Nick turned to leave, and Starsky felt sweat break out over his body. He must have moved because the guard in the room moved to stand behind him.

Oh, my god, Nick! This has to be an act...has to be! You couldn't leave him like that...

But Callendar grabbed Nick's arm before he reached the door.

"Oh, but I'm leaving you that honor, kid. After all the ranting and raving you did about this guy, I figured you'd like to be the one to cap him. Besides, it'll put you square in with my employer. It'll mean he can trust you enough to set you up straight when you get back to New York." Callendar nodded toward the gun on the table. "There you go, youngster. He's all yours."

Sweat was pouring off Starsky now, and he had to blink it out of his eyes as Nick first froze, then turned to approach the table slowly. He wanted to believe this was all an act, but he could read the truth in Nick's movements, the shock and controlled pride in Hutch's. Starsky could not deny this was real. His own brother was going to kill Hutch.

Nick picked up the gun with his left hand, held it for a moment, then moved toward Hutch.

Starsky was only seconds away from throwing himself forward--anything, no matter how useless--to try to stop what was going to happen. He felt the hard barrel of a gun up against the back of his head.

Unable to look away, Starsky watched as Nick's shaking hand held up the gun, and his finger moved on the trigger. He could see the anger and unflinching dignity in Hutch's eyes as he watched Nick's face, not once looking at the gun itself.

The gun barked over the speakers.

Hutch and the chair were blown backwards, as dark liquid spattered the walls behind him.

Nick jerked and took several steps back, his gun hand dropping down to his side as the weapon hit the floor.

Nonononononono...oh, Hutch...

"A job well done, my friend. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Callendar asked casually, reaching out to snag Nick's arm. "Your end of the bargain is done. Now my boss will know he can trust you. Let's go."

Starsky was panting now, trying to breathe around the gag, trying to control his reaction. He hadn't noticed his guard moving around him to turn the television off. The room felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of it, and he seemed to be shaking.

His guard laughed and said something to him, but he couldn't catch the words through the deafening thud of his own heartbeat. Then his chair was pulled back and to the side, so he faced the doorway.

It was strange, this feeling as if his body was dying and he was seeing himself from a distance. His soul felt numb, almost as if he was the one dead in the other room. He could feel his body reacting to the horror, catalog it even, yet his mind felt as if it was no longer there.

Did you take part of me with you? he thought, wondering if Hutch was in the room with him now. I sure hope so, 'cause I don't think I feel like me anymore. I don't want to be me anymore.

The door flew open and all thought stopped as Nick was pushed into the room, slipping on the blood on the floor. He fell in front of Starsky, holding up his hands as Callendar came in behind him.

"You, get going," Callendar snapped at Starsky's guard, who left quickly. Callendar's eyes held Starsky's. "Well, hello again, Detective Starsky. Guess you weren't expecting to see me so soon. As you can see, I've brought someone to keep you company while we wait to see if your captain thinks you're worth the ransom we want." He then turned his attention to Nick. "You, don't try anything funny or you and your brother will both get it."

With that, Callendar stepped back through the door. Starsky could hear the lock turn, shutting him in the room with Nick.

Hutch's killer. In the flesh.

"Oh, Davey!" Nick moaned with apparent relief. "Am I glad to see you!" Nick got up off the floor, his hands working to untie Starsky's gag. "These guys are some bad asses, brother. We've got to get out of here!"

As soon as the gag was loose Starsky coughed, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. "H-hutch!" he gasped, the name almost impossible to say with the dryness of his mouth and his soul.

Nick was at the back of the chair now, untying his almost numb hands.

"We came to try to save you, but they caught us. They took Hutch to another room, I don't know where. They were after him all along."

Starsky's hands came free, and it was all he could do to bring them forward, to curl them against his chest as he drew in deep breaths.

"C'mon, Davey! You've got to get ready to run." Nick was working on the ropes that bound his feet, and Starsky found himself staring at a mop of familiar curls that used to belong to a man he once knew. A man who once used to be a beloved brother. "I heard that they were plannin' on leaving us here. But they didn't count on ol' Nick being able to pick these locks from the inside! We'll be home free before you know it!"

Hutch's killer and my savior. Is this the way you had it planned, brother?

The second his feet were free, Starsky stood shakily, watching Nick as he moved to the door and pulled something out of his pocket. He squatted, starting to work at picking the lock.

Starsky was numb, inside and out, trying to decide what to do. None of this seemed real--not himself, nor the man who seemed to be using Nick's body. But there was one thing he could do, and that was to make sure those who had killed Hutch would pay for it. In the coldness of his mind, it seemed it would be better to play out the scenario, plan his revenge for later. The internal struggle went on for mere seconds before the iciness won out over the howling part of his soul.

So normal. He acts so normal, as if nothing's happened. He doesn't realize I was watching, so he feels safe in his lie. Nick worked on the lock, saying words that weren't important enough for Starsky to register. Who the hell is this, and why didn't I see the danger?

The years flashed across his mind, reminding him of the time he had been sent to California, the time when a teenager had left a five-year-old brother behind. He saw all the years they had been separated like a mist that thickened with each day, month and year they had been apart. The mist became a curtain, thick, dark as blood and heavy as betrayal.

He's like a twisted Wizard of Oz, only coming out from behind his curtain to show me a person he wants me to see. This is Nicky. This is my brother, the lock picker, the thief, the fence, the drug dealer. This is a stranger I've never really known. This is the stranger that killed Hutch.

Suddenly something let loose inside Starsky, and whatever it was seemed to leave a blankness inside him, an emptiness he could fold around himself like a cloak of invisibility.

It was time to move. To do something. Later would be the time to fall apart, to hurt and tend to wounds that would never heal.

"I got it opened!" Nick crowed as the lock snicked into place. Nick stood and faced him, looking both nervous and hopeful. He stood and grabbed Starsky's shoulder. "C'mon, brother, let's get out of here!"

Starsky almost laughed, feeling a creeping hysteria behind the urge. To go undercover as myself. Pretending to be whole. He doesn't know me either, won't see what's missing...

"Good job, Nick. You wait here while I take a peek down the hall. Then we'll see about finding Hutch."

As he opened the door quietly, peeking down the hallway, he could feel Nick's hesitation.

"They may have taken him someplace else," Nick said uncertainly. "I-I think we'd better get out of here and see if we can get help."

"We're not leaving without him, Nick."

The hallway was long and dark, and the walls were concrete; Hutch could have been behind any of the many doors that lined it. Starsky grabbed a handful of Nick's shirt, ready to drag him along if need be.

Somewhere on the other side of the building, shots were fired. Several of them.

Nick said something, tried to pull away.

Starsky turned, grabbing him by both shoulders and slammed him against the wall hard enough to stun him.

"Don't you move!" Starsky hissed, seeing the fear and uncertainty in Nick's eyes as they came almost nose-to-nose. "I'm gonna leave you in this room, while I try to find out what's going on. You move from this room, and so help me those guys out there will be the least of your worries!"

He pulled Nick off the wall and shoved him back into the room they had come from, not stopping to see if Nick would do as he was told. It wouldn't matter, since there wasn't anywhere in the world Nick could run to and be safe. Not now, not ever.

Running quietly, softly, like he'd learned to do years ago, Starsky moved down the hallway. His eyes scavenged the dark spots, looking for hidden bodies lying in wait. He found a length of pipe amid a crumbled wall and picked it up to use as a weapon.

At the end of the wall, he could see part of a car that had been driven into a loading dock. As he crept forward, using the shadows and dark spots to cover him, he moved closer to the scene. The room beyond was huge, and as he moved forward he saw that the car windows were blown out, shattered, and the men inside unmoving. Another step and the front of the car came into view. Callendar, his back to the lifeless occupants, was sitting on the hood, a cigarette in one hand and a gun in the other.

He must have made a sound when he got near the doorway. Callendar took a drag of his cigarette and turned to look in his direction.

"Just you, me and the other cockroaches around, Detective Starsky." Callendar's voice echoed around the large chamber. Starsky tensed as Callendar raised the gun, then threw it far away from him, toward the center of the large cavern. "And I'm not even armed. The game's over. What happens next is your call."

Starsky, balancing the pipe in his left hand, tested its weight and bulk as he strode closer to Callendar, who didn't turn to look at him. One swing, it would take just one, hard swing of the pipe...

"I'd say I've got a lot of unfinished business to attend to, wouldn't you?"

"Undoubtedly." Callendar took another drag, then coughed slightly. "Is Nick still among the living, or have you avenged the family name?"

"He's alive." A certain madness screaming in the back of his mind to let go of himself and do it. To exact such revenge that would leave only a bloody, dead, decaying pulp of a man in front of him. He squelched the urge, knowing even that kind of release wouldn't stop his wounds from bleeding.

Callendar looked at him, and Starsky nodded toward the blasted car full of bodies.

"They aren't."

"No. They aren't."

"Why?"

"I didn't need them anymore. No one needs them anymore." Callendar smiled slightly. "I'm turning myself in. As state's witness. That is, if you can keep me from the Feds long enough to get any use out of me. My time is worth more than you know, right now."

"I should kill you."

"Yeah, you probably should. But before you do, I'd go and check on your partner first."

The bloody wound in Starsky quivered for a moment, Hutch's death replaying in his mind in slow motion.

"He's in there." Callendar nodded toward a door at the other end of the room. "I'm not going anywhere, Detective. I could have been long gone if I'd wanted to keep running. But I don't want that anymore, so I'll be here if you still want my hide."

But Starsky was already walking toward the door, knowing that Hutch lay beyond it. He couldn't have stayed away to save his own life. He needed Hutch, needed to see him, touch him, to take care of him this one, last time. One more time before the world he knew ended.

How long he stood in front of the door, staring at it, he didn't know. He found himself unable to move automatically, having to look at the doorknob to find it with his hand, to see it turn in his grip.

When the door opened, he froze at the sight before him. For a moment it was as if his mind couldn't accept what it was shown. The room was the same, the correct angles and lighting, the same splatters of dark liquid on the walls that were a bright red in real life. But in a chair that had been pulled upright was Hutch, still tied to it, strawberry stained hair once again covered in thin running rivulets of bright liquid that dripped down his face and ran down his neck.

And once again it was Hutch's eyes, bright blue, concerned and angry, that looked back at him with relief of their own.

"Oh...ohgodohgod...H-hutch!" Relief made him faint and giddy, as he almost tripped over his own feet to get to the living man before him. He wanted to cry as he knelt and wrapped his arms around Hutch, pulling the bulk of him into his arms and burying his face in the crook of Hutch's neck.

"Glad to see you, too, buddy!" Hutch said breathlessly in Starsky's ear, only able to move enough to touch his head to Starsky's. "You gotta get me untied, Starsk! They've left, but I don't know for how long. I heard a hell of a gunfight out there and I...I don't know where Nick is."

Starsky didn't know if he could let go of the warm body in his arms. He needed to feel the beating of Hutch's heart against his, hear him breathing in his ear just a moment longer. The horror in his mind needed to be relegated to the world of nightmares where it would always haunt him when he slept. But there were things to do...

Letting go with a sob he hadn't been expecting, Starsky found his vision blurred with unshed tears. Avoiding Hutch's eyes, Starsky reached out and gingerly touched a bruised lump on Hutch's forehead.

Another paint pellet. Damned lucky it didn't kill him anyway, as close as Nicky was when he pulled the trigger. Might have a concussion...

Hutch didn't flinch from the touch, but Starsky could see the pain in his eyes. "Starsk. I'm okay. But we've got to get going!"

"I know where Nicky is, Hutch." He moved to untie Hutch's hands. "He's safe enough. Callendar is outside; the rest of his henchmen are dead. He says he's turning himself in. It's over."

Hutch's hands were free and at his partner's shoulders in an instant, squeezing until Starsky turned to look at him. There was a look of dread in Hutch's eyes as his mouth moved to speak.

"I saw him kill you," Starsky said before Hutch could say anything. Telling a man his brother was a murderer, a bloody betrayer, was a burden he didn't want Hutch to have to bear. One small mercy for them both.

The words seemed to hit Hutch like a brick. He looked away before closing his own tearful eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry about," Starsky muttered as he looked away, starting to untie Hutch's feet.

"Yes, there is."

The sadness in Hutch's voice almost broke him then and it was all he could do to stifle another sob.

As Hutch's hands rubbed at his shoulders, Starsky fought to untie the stubborn knots, trying to see them through the tears he could not afford to let loose.

"Later, Hutch," he said gruffly. "I can't do this now."

With a soft pat, Hutch's hand left his back. He knew Hutch would understand that he was too close to losing it. Now was the time to be a cop, to empty himself of emotion and deal with the situation in a professional manner. With machine-like concentration, he returned to the knots at Hutch's ankles, willing himself to lock his feeling away until he was safe again.

Safe--where Hutch could catch him when he fell.

Because it was going to be one hell of a long drop for them both.

***

Hutch watched silently as Starsky worked on the last of the knots, rubbing his aching wrists as he waited to be freed. He was more than just worried about Starsky, having seen the look of deep and terrible pain on his face when the door had opened. If Starsky had seen Nick shoot him...

What's going through your head, buddy? My death and Nick's betrayal? Oh, God, babe, may they all rot in hell! I'd put them there myself if it would help.

When the moment of his "death" had come, Hutch was surprised at his feelings. He had looked death in the face so many times before that it didn't seem to scare him anymore. There were much worse things than his own death, as his main nightmare--that of losing Starsky and living the rest of his life without him--had shown him on some of his worst nights.

The worst part of seeing the gun pointed at him, of seeing Nick's finger pull the trigger, was the helplessness he felt knowing the sonuvabitch that called himself a brother was going to be left to pick up the pieces of David Starsky's life.

It was revolting to know that Nick was the one person left who his brother could turn to in dark and dangerous times. Yet turn to him Starsky would, not realizing he was trusting his soul, and his sanity, to a mythical being. The beloved brother who never really existed. Hutch had seen the triumph in Nick's eyes as he pulled the trigger and had mourned his own failure to be there for Starsky.

He had been knocked out only a few moments, astonished at his survival and frustrated that he still couldn't find a way to loosen his bonds. The men had returned quickly, righted his chair and left him there, arguing amongst themselves about some order Callendar had given them. Then they had left him alone to fight his bonds, to wonder about Starsky's fate, and to fight his panic when he heard the shots just beyond the door. He was so afraid Starsky had been involved in that barrage, he'd almost laughed with joy when Starsky had opened the door to rescue him.

Until he saw Starsky's face.

I thought telling you about Nick would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do. I wish you hadn't seen it, Starsk. I'd take that away from you if I could, take the chance of you refusing to believe me, rather than have you see it happen in front of your own eyes.

In a moment his foot was free, and Starsky's hand was on his arm, pulling him up. Starsky stopped as he opened the door, and over his shoulder Hutch could see Callendar sitting on the hood of the car.

"Callendar says he wants to turn state's witness," Starsky said softly. "I believe him, Hutch. He knows so goddamned much about who hired him--names, places and dates--that he could take down half the city without even trying."

"As well as who killed the cops at the safe house." Hutch noted the sad look on Starsky's face.

"That guy's dead. Apparently the killings weren't in Callendar's plans, and he killed the guy for it, right in front of me."

"About Nick..." Hutch wanted to bite his lip to keep from saying anything else, but there was no avoiding the subject. "Starsk, I-I didn't bring him here--"

"I know." Starsky reassured him with a soft glance. "You tried to keep him safe. We both did."

“I didn't tell him where I was going; he didn't know. Someone got him here awful fast, someone who works at the station. Nick should be able to identify them. Between him and Callendar, there should be a lot of names..."

Starsky nodded. "The Feds will be lined up to kiss Callendar's ass by the time we get back. But why is he doing this now? Why are we still alive? We've got to know why."

"You ask him then. Call for help." Hutch put a hand on Starsky's shoulder, knowing Callendar was watching and waiting for them. "Tell me where you've stashed Nick, and I'll go collect him."

Starsky turned to look at him, and Hutch recognized the wall Starsky had constructed to keep his emotions in check. He gave Starsky's shoulder a squeeze and put a small smile on his face. "Promise I won't beat the crap out of him."

Starsky's eyes traveled to Hutch's forehead, where the lump was, then up to the sticky mess in his hair. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I don't give a damn anymore. Beat the holy crap out of him, for all I care." Starsky sighed tiredly. "He's down the hall to the right, last door at the end. The bastard will probably shit his pants when he sees you. I think I'd enjoy seeing that, if I had the time."

Starsky pulled away, heading toward Callendar. All Hutch could do was watch him move, stiffly, shoulders pulled back and backbone ridged, as if he were trying to hold himself up. His pronounced limp told Hutch just how exhausted Starsky was.

Was that just the other day that you hurt that ankle? It feels like a lifetime ago. A nightmare ago. Hell of a birthday, huh?

Hutch turned and headed to the room where Nick was, wondering what he was going to say to him. He was furious with Nick, the anger like a spring in his gut, ready to propel him into doing some serious damage. What he wanted to do was beat the crap out of him, make him hurt for every second of the misery he had put his brother through. Even as he turned the knob he had no idea what he was going to do--promise or no promise.

As he threw open the door, he saw Nick jump as he turned to face the door, his face showing shock and dismay as he realized who had come to get him.

Hutch watched the blood drain from Nick's face, and he wondered if the man would faint. But Nick only gasped, then backed up a step, eyes wide as he frantically looked around the room for a way out. Hutch felt evil glee at the reaction and allowed a cold smile to touch the icy set of his features.

"H-h-hutch?! Oh, man...!" Nick, back to the wall, seemed to realize that the apparition before him was real. Hutch could practically see the wheels turning in the younger man's brain, as a false smile was forced across Nick's face. "I-I-I'm so glad you're okay...I mean...that was a great bluff, huh? Th-they actually thought you were d-dead...pretty convincing, huh?"

Hutch found his anger had turned to ice, and he realized he had no feelings left at all for this man. Not even anger enough to want to take it out of his hide. Not yet. But when he thawed...

He moved slowly toward Nick, wanting to keep him fearful and uncertain.

"Davey...David is outside, Hutch! He's okay! Did you see him? He's coming back for me...will be here any minute!"

Nick was within reach now, and Hutch could smell the stink of sweat and fear roll off him. He grabbed Nick's shoulders and pulled, shifting him around to slam him face up against the wall. With a savage kick, Hutch forced Nick's feet apart, pushing him into the position for frisking, as if he were any other common street thug.

"You have the right to remain silent," Hutch recited harshly. "Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?"

Nick started to struggle as Hutch patted him down. "What?! What are you doing? You can't--"

Hutch pulled him back just enough to slam him into the wall once again. "Do you understand?!"

Nick was trembling even harder now, but nodded his head.

"You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police, and to have an attorney present during questioning, now, or in the future. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. If you decide to answer questions now, without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand?"

Nick nodded again.

"Answer me! Do you understand?!"

"Y-yes! Just get Davey for me, okay, Hutch? Just get D-Davey--"

"I don't think I know a 'Davey,’ do you, Hutch?" Starsky's voice, calm and professional, came from behind them both.

Hutch turned his head without letting up the pressure that kept Nick pinned to the wall.

Starsky stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking as if he had aged a million years. The limp was even more pronounced than before, as he moved forward and bent to pick up a piece of nylon rope from the floor. Hutch guessed it was part of the binding that had held Starsky in this place, in that chair, in front of that television. "I myself go by 'David' or 'Dave,' but mostly I go by 'Starsky.' For those who are really close to me, I'm 'Starsk.' But not many people know me well enough to call me that."

Starsky crossed the few steps left between them and handed the rope to Hutch. As Starsky moved to lean against the wall, looking into Nick's face, Hutch proceeded to move Nick's hands down to his back so he could tie his wrists.

"But," Starsky continued, just as calmly, "I haven't been 'Davey' for a long, long time. In fact, everyone I know who would call me that is dead. So, I guess you can't mean me."

Hutch pulled the knot tight on Nick's wrists, watching Starsky as he searched his brother's face. Nick was trembling violently under Hutch's hands, and Hutch wished he could see whatever it was that Starsky saw. After what felt like an eternity, Starsky nodded at Hutch and moved away. Hutch turned Nick around, noting that he was still trembling, a shocked look on his face.

Leaving Nick leaning against the wall for support, Hutch walked with Starsky to the doorway where Nick would not be able to overhear them.

"Dobey and the rest of the cavalry are on their way. Should be here soon," Starsky said softly, leaning against the doorframe as Hutch stood close. "Callendar is dying. He's got some sort of cancer that's spread like crazy, and he's got two, maybe three months left. He came back to settle a score with some people and decided along the way that he'd just as well take out all the scum that had hired him through the years. Figures he'd better balance out his life a little while he has the time, just in case he's measured and found wanting once he kicks off."

"And us?"

Starsky shrugged slightly. "We were marked for removal, 'cause we've been too good at what we do. Callendar volunteered for the job. Says he owed us a favor 'cause we saved Richie and helped out him and his mom after the hospital bills hit. Taking on our assassination--and keeping us alive--is his way of paying us back for that favor."

Hutch put a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Nick?"

He could feel the tight muscles in Starsky's shoulder grow even tighter, see the clenching of his jaw. Starsky seemed to look into the distance. "Icing on Callendar's cake, I guess. Figured he's done me one hell of a favor by introducing me to my own brother."

They were both silent for a minute, although Hutch knew there was more. Not knowing what else he could do, he moved his hand to the back of Starsky's neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Nick knew about the hit, Hutch. The fucker knew about it in New York, weeks ago. Seemed he made some deal with some 'family' members, that he'd get me to quit. Then he'd become the go-between in Bay City and New York. Bragged that he could get me to play along and give them enough information that they could truck their drugs through Bay City and avoid the cops finding the shipments.

"Callendar encouraged it, letting Nicky think he was saving me. All they had to do, according to Nicky..." Starsky looked at him, and Hutch could see that the disbelief and sorrow in his eyes seemed to go back a million years. "All they had to do was kill you, and I was as good as bought."

"Davey? Dave?" Nick's pleading voice sounded hollow in the nearly empty room, breaking into the moment between them. "You've got to listen to me! This isn't what you guys seem to think it is! I swear it was all a set-up! No one was really going to get hurt, I swear! Y-you need to listen to me, Dave! I'm your brother! Your blood! You need to help me out of this! Dave?"

"You ain't my brother anymore, Nick." The words were quiet, with the power of truth making them lie heavily in the room. "I guess, in most ways, you never were."

Nick laughed nervously, as if it were some family joke between them. "Don't fool with me like this, big brother. I mean, I can take that kind of thing, but Ma...Ma'll never understand that kind of joking. Not between us! Not after losing Pop and all. We're all we've got!"

God damn you, you fucking sonuvabitch! Hutch thought savagely, hating Nick even more now than he had thought possible. If you weren't his brother, I'd knock those teeth right down your fucking--

He must have moved toward their prisoner, because the next thing he knew, Starsky was pulling him back. Before he could react, Starsky had Hutch's head in his hands and pulled him down to place a chaste kiss on the bridge of his nose. Then their foreheads touched, Starsky's hands keeping them together.

Hutch froze, allowing the moment to drain some of the hatred that was making his body tremble.

"Make no mistake, Nicholas," Starsky said roughly, his grip on Hutch's head tightening. "You might be their son, but I have only one brother, and he's standing right here, with me. Just where he's always been."

Releasing Hutch gently before turning to look stonily at Nick, Starsky turned sharply and limped down the dark and dirty corridor.

Hutch heard Nick's gasp, but shut the door without even looking at him. He could stay in that room until their rescue arrived.

After all, Nick had nowhere left to go, and Hutch had family to take care of.

***

The view from the Parker Center office wasn't one either man was well acquainted with. It was a side of the city unavailable from Dobey's office. The setting sun was throwing its warm colors over all the buildings in view, as Hutch and Starsky stood together to watch. The room was quiet, the door locked. It was the first time in hours the two of them had been left alone.

A hornet's nest was opened as soon as their rescuers had arrived, Callendar's name throwing every law enforcement agency within miles into action. Hutch and Starsky had given their summaries to Dobey, starting a witch hunt within the station itself. IA was even questioning two detectives from Narco and one from Robbery, as to their possible involvement in organized crime. Three uniformed officers and several office staff had disappeared from their posts soon after Nick had been spirited out of the station, and they were now being tracked down. A massive house cleaning was underway, and by the time Callendar got through singing his song, everyone would know who the betrayers were.

Hutch had once again been checked out for possible concussion. Starsky at his side, intended only to supervise until Hutch insisted that his partner be checked over. The doctors had clucked over the amount of scrapes and bruises they had accrued over the course of the last few days. They had cleaned and checked cuts, but let them both go with mild warnings to take it easy for a while.

The advice was laughable. Things were only now getting started, and they intended to be in the middle of it. They had both paid too high a price not to be in on it.

They had their uniformed guard/chauffeur take them to their apartments to shower and dress in their own clothing, both more than ready to at least have that much control over their lives. Then they returned to the station to watch as Dobey was run ragged with those who now wanted a piece of his pie. All while Callendar was downstairs under heavy guard, telling his tale and naming names into tape after tape. There was no question Callendar wouldn't answer, no name he wouldn't name, and it was all being recorded for posterity. There would be more than a few very rich, very important men who would be packing to make their escapes to other countries.

There were things Starsky and Hutch needed to do as well. Starsky had asked Dobey for this room, for a quiet place to call his mother from. As far as either of them knew, Nick was downstairs in lockup, still waiting for his brother to show up. Starsky had gotten no fewer than five messages from Nick, messages passed along by sympathetic officers who didn't know the particulars, asking for his brother to come down and help him. Starsky had wadded up and tossed each one of them into the nearest garbage can. Nick would soon call back to New York to beg his mother's help, once the truth finally set in. Starsky intended to beat him to it, no matter how painful it was going to be. His mother deserved the truth, or enough of it to be able to understand her elder son's lack of response to her youngest son's troubles.

Dobey, who understood them both better than either one of them wanted to admit, had found them this empty office, where they could lock the door to prevent interruptions. But the phone remained undisturbed so far. Hutch didn't say anything. When Starsky was ready, he'd call. And Hutch would be there, to hold his hand through it and pick him up when it was over.

So they both just watched the sunset, Hutch's arm over Starsky's shoulders, Starsky leaning into him, arms crossed across his stomach as if needing to hold himself together.

"He's never understood." Starsky's voice was quiet and calm, eyes on the light show outside the window. "He's never really loved, has he?"

"He loves you. He tried to keep you alive."

"No, he loves the idea of a big brother. Loves the idea of someone there to pull his ass outta whatever fire he leaps into. He loves the image, that's all. He doesn't love me."

"If he knew you, he would." Hutch pulled Starsky a bit closer.

"No, Hutch, I don't think so." Starsky sighed, leaned back a bit harder. "I've loved deeply in my life, latched on to people with everything I've had. Given those I've loved bits of my soul that I can never take back."

Hutch's hand moved to Starsky's head, patting at the curls before resting once again on his shoulder.

"Hurts like hell when they throw it away, or leave, or...or die. You know?" Starsky continued. "But those that loved me back, I've still got them, here." Starsky tapped at his own chest. "Love'll rip you apart sometimes, but I can't imagine not going for broke, takin' that chance to open up and be loved in return. 'Cause when it's real..." Starsky sighed softly, one hand going up to hold on to Hutch's wrist.

"But Nicky...I don't think he has ever loved anyone. He's got acquaintances and friends back home, but I never got the feeling he couldn't walk out and leave them at a moment's notice. And the girls he's always talkin' about. His 'love' for them is all looks and sex--lust and what they could do for him. He calls it love, but it ain't. It's not something that'll last beyond the first argument, the first bad time, or gettin' sick or old. Once the lust wears off, so does the 'love'."

"I guess there are just some things that you can't teach people, Starsk. They either get it or they don't. I'm just thankful you're one of the ones that gets it."

"Makes me almost feel sorry for him, although I shouldn't. Not after what he did. He killed you, Hutch. He didn't even come close to understanding what that would have done to me, even if I'd never found out he pulled the trigger. I can never forgive him for that, and I don't think he'll ever understand why."

"He was jealous," Hutch said, sounding sheepish. "Like I was jealous of him. There he had you as a brother, and I was just the best friend." He shrugged. "I didn't have any reason to doubt what we have, or want to trade places with him. But I still didn't like him being around. Guess I can see why he must have hated me enough to wish me out of your life."

The sun was setting quickly now, and they could almost see the shadows lengthen around them.

"So you're human; I can deal with that. Although I have to admit, you can be a lot of work at times." Starsky smiled sadly at him; Hutch smiled sheepishly back. "But Nick has never understood what it is about you and me, and it's taken all this mess for me to realize why."

"Starsk, I'm not sure I understand what it is about us."

Starsky chuckled at the amusement in Hutch's voice, shifting to wrap his other arm around Hutch's waist, giving it a squeeze before letting him go and moving toward the phone. "Yeah, well, life is complicated and so are we. We'd probably fill up all kinds of psychology textbooks with people tryin' to figure us out. But as long as it works--"

"Don't fix it," Hutch whispered, looking back to the sunset to leave Starsky a little moment of privacy before he dialed for New York.

The End

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