Title: Blood Ties
Author: Sarah Problem
Type: Slash
Summary: An enemy wears the face of a loved one, and betrayal cuts through the ties of blood.
Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement intended.
Notes: This story was previously published in "Venice Place Chronicles IV".
I also want to thank both of my editors, Keri T and Barb D. They both put in a lot of time and effort to help me make my stories the best they can be, and I really appreciate it. I value their input tremendously, and always look forward to working with them.
Any bloopers, boo-boos or outright mistakes are mine alone.
Format: Story
Series: Blood Series
Sequel to: Blood Test
Categories: Hutch Angst, Starsky Angst, First Time Story, Starsky H/C, Violence, Zine Story
Rating: NC-17
Size: 173K
Date Added: 2005-11-30

Blood Ties
by Sarah Problem

Long before he opened his eyes, Hutch knew Starsky was not asleep on the couch. He cursed silently, listening for movement in the dark, then sat up in bed and stretched. There were no sounds from the bathroom, the small television was off, and no one was pacing in the front room. Yet, while he couldn't see over the back of the couch that separated his bedroom from his living room, he was sure Starsky was no longer there. He looked at the time and winced.

Has he been up all this time, or did he have a bad dream? He probably never drifted off. I should've stayed awake in case he needed to talk.

The previous week had been hard on them, with Hutch just getting over the flu that had swept through the city, and Starsky tired and over-spent from trying to take care of Hutch, as well as work extra shifts to help make up for the manpower shortage. Saturday had been Starsky's birthday, and all the two of them had wanted to do was celebrate it quietly.

Things had started going downhill when Starsky's brother, Nick, appeared out of nowhere, all smiles for his brother and with happy news that he was moving to Bay City. Only Nick had had other—deadly—plans.

He's having a hard time taking it all in, and I can't blame him. None of it makes sense.

They'd been stalked and tormented, their attacker making sure they realized they were being toyed with. Even the safe house hadn't been safe, and four officers had been coldbloodedly murdered in order to get to Starsky, who had been kidnapped from the house.

Nick knew about the hit man, yet instead of warning us he made an arrangement with the killer. Take me out and he'd see that his brother left the force forever. It would've worked, too, if Callendar hadn't felt like he owed us a debt.

No wonder Starsky can't sleep. Four cops are dead, and he saw Nick put that gun to my head and pull the trigger. The stuff of nightmares.

Hutch touched the lump on his forehead left over from Nick's shot. Now behind bars, Nick would try to talk his way out of it, say it was all part of Callendar's plan and that he knew the bullet in his gun was a fake. But Hutch had seen hatred in Nick's eyes, had heard the anger in his voice, and knew Starsky had heard it, too.

He suddenly realized where Starsky was. Hutch threw back the covers and walked across the floor to the greenhouse door.

Starsky, wearing only the boxers he'd worn to sleep in, was at the far window. He was leaning on the sill, gazing solemnly out into the darkness. The soft light that filtered through the ceiling panels seemed to dance across the curves of his numerous untamed curls, dripped down to highlight the broad shoulders. It continued on, pouring down his torso and legs, then pooled on the floor at his feet. Hutch stood silently, not wanting to intrude but unable to walk away.

"Keeping you up?" Starsky asked without turning, his voice was as soft as the light that framed him.

"No." Hutch padded into the greenhouse, weaving his way carefully through his miniature forest. "Just thought I'd get up and water the plants. They missed me."

"Liar." There was fatigue underneath the amused tone. Without even glancing at him, Starsky moved to his right and gave Hutch room at the window. "You watered them while I was in the shower."

Hutch put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. It was a beautiful view. During the day, the restaurant's garden was green and lush, with trellises and large planters separating the tables. In the evenings, it looked magical, with the tiny soft white lights the management had woven along the trellis, and the candles on the tables all lit. Now, with just the moonlight, it was still a beautiful place.

"It's really quiet this time of night," Starsky said. "Not as quiet as my place, though."

Hutch squeezed Starsky's shoulder. "I know you wanted to go home, but I still think it was best that you came here tonight. You need some sleep before you face the mess at your place."

Starsky sighed. "I know, you're right. If I'd gone straight home I'd've started cleaning up. Between the smoke bomb and the forensic team going through it for clues, I'd still be working on it. And then there's Nick's stuff...."

His brother's name was said with pain. Nick's suitcases and their contents would still be there, spread out all over the apartment by the forensic team.

"It'll wait," Hutch said. "After breakfast, we'll go over and do what we need to do. Then maybe we can get away for a while and get our second wind. We're way overdue for some time off."

Starsky shook his head. Hutch could feel the tension grow in the broad shoulders. "I can't leave town, Hutch. Not with things the way they are. And Ma will expect me to be here. I tried to talk her out of flying in to help, but there's no telling what Nick's told her. There's no telling what she'll do. She was really upset on the phone."

Earlier in the evening, Starsky had made a painful call to his mother. It had been hard for Hutch to hear his partner trying to tell his mother why her youngest son had just been arrested, and how serious it could be. When he'd hung up, Starsky looked sick and didn't want to talk about it.

I know how painful it was for him to make that call, but better she hear it from him than Nick. There's no telling what kind of story Nick will try to spin out of this mess.

"I know it must have been upsetting," Hutch said softly. He started to gently massage Starsky's shoulders. "But you did what you had to do."

Starsky sighed and leaned back. "I couldn't tell her everything, Hutch. I couldn't tell her about what he did to you."

"She didn't need to hear it." Hutch dug his fingers into stubborn knots near Starsky's neck. "That's not something you can explain on the phone. I know it would've been hard for you to believe, if you hadn't seen it."

"I wouldn't've wanted to, but I would've believed you, Hutch," Starsky whispered, resignation in his voice. He shrugged Hutch's hands off and turned to face him. His eyes reflected the pain in his voice. "But Ma's scared, and I'm not sure that she'll understand any of it, even if she believes me over Nick."

Starsky walked away from the window to the bench in the center of the greenhouse, his limp still noticeable. He'd twisted his ankle only a few days before and hadn't been able to keep off of it.

With Starsky sitting at one end of the bench, Hutch took the other. He reached down to pick up Starsky's legs and turned him sideways on the bench. With both legs lying across his lap, Hutch began to rub the foot of the wounded leg, keeping away from the bruised area. "This is going to be a bad time for her. For both of you. You'll both learn how to live with what you can't change."

"Guess we have no choice." Starsky closed his eyes. "It's like a nightmare I can't stop running through my mind even when I'm awake. He shoots you. I see you die..." Starsky's voice caught, emotions fighting beneath the surface for attention. "He never said a word to us about the price on our heads, but he knew about it. He came into my house, like someone who loves me and—"

"Starsk," Hutch said through the tightness in his own throat. He knew once Starsky started, he'd never be able to let it go long enough to relax and sleep. "Don't. Leave it alone for now. There was nothing you could have done. Give yourself a break and let it go for a few minutes." Hutch moved to Starsky's calf, massaging the muscle deeply.

"That feels goooood," Starsky groaned. After a few minutes he opened his eyes, and in the dim light Hutch could see a trace of amusement on Starsky's face. "You always did your best sweet-talkin' with your hands. If you weren't a guy, I'd marry you for them alone."

Somewhere inside Hutch, the remark hit a tender spot. If you weren't a guy, I'd marry you for a lot more reasons than that, just to make sure you'd always be a part of my life. But then, if you weren't a guy, you wouldn't be Starsky. Why the hell do we let our gender be such a big deal?

Hutch forced a smile as he continued to knead what he could reach of Starsky's leg. He could play along with the change of subject for his sake. "You're awful sure of yourself there, cowboy. What makes you think you'd be my type? I've got pretty discriminating tastes, you know."

"It's pretty clear, when you can't keep your hands off me. That's how I know."

Pot calling the kettle black, Starsk? Hutch thought with amusement. "If you were my type, it wouldn't be your leg I'd be working on, hotshot. I've got better aim than that."

Starsky chuckled, sounding a bit woozy, which Hutch knew was from fatigue. "So, what kinda guy would be your type? Big and blond?"

Hutch laughed a little and shook his head as he moved to Starsky's other leg, enjoying the way he could feel Starsky relax under his hands. "I don't think so. Blonde on the ladies is nice, but blond on guys always struck me as a little...bland."

"Really?" Starsky sounded and looked surprised. "You don't seem to have any problems with the blond you see in the mirror every morning."

"Okay," Hutch said with a laugh, patting Starsky's legs before he pushed them firmly off his lap. "If you're going to start calling me vain, it's time to throw you into bed."

He stood, and Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm before he could walk away.

"I didn't mean that, Hutch," Starsky said, looking a bit embarrassed. "I just meant that...well...you're blond and you don't seem to do so bad for yourself."

"I know what you meant, Starsk," Hutch said kindly. "You're just getting silly. You need some sleep. Time to get you tucked in bed. And not the couch this time. I want to know for sure that you're sleeping."

Hutch pulled Starsky to his feet and gave him a gentle push toward the greenhouse door.

"I don't know, Hutch." Starsky limped into the room ahead of him. "Maybe you should be having second thoughts about us sharing a bed. I kinda think blond guys are cute."

Something in Hutch shivered, thrilled at the admission, even if it was only in jest.

"I think I'll take my chances." Hutch moved to what he thought of as "his" side of the bed and slipped in, waiting as Starsky slid in beside him. He reached over and placed the clock on its face. Neither of them needed to be reminded of the time. "You know I'm armed and capable of defending my honor. I figure I'll be safe."

Although I'm not sure I'd bother defending it. I can't imagine you asking for anything I wouldn't want to give.

Hutch lay on his back, his usual position, but it took Starsky a moment to find a comfortable spot on his side, away from Hutch. Minutes passed and Hutch found himself listening to Starsky's breathing, which had yet to slow and deepen in sleep.

After a few minutes, Starsky's anguished whisper flowed through the darkness. "Hutch? If I'd'a lost you today...."

Hutch rolled onto his side, placing his arm around Starsky's waist. He scooted over until his chest was warm against Starsky's back, and his nose in the mass of curls. "I'm here now, babe. I'll be here if you have nightmares, and I'll be here in the morning. It's okay to let go."

He could feel Starsky's deep sigh against his chest. Starsky took his wrist in his hand, keeping Hutch right where he was.

Hutch knew the exact second, a few minutes later, when Starsky slipped into a deeply tranquil sleep. Hutch's mind grew fuzzy, not only with fatigue but in enjoyment of the comforting warmth of Starsky's body against his. He'd had his own tense times during the last few days, and among the worst of them had been his fear that he'd find Starsky's body among the other murdered officers. There was no guarantee he'd be able to avoid any nightmares of his own, but he wouldn't have to go far to be reassured that Starsky was still alive.

Too bad he doesn't really like blond guys in bed every night, Hutch thought with amused drowsiness. He buried his nose deeper into springy hair that smelled like a sleepy and relaxed Starsky. I could get too used to this.

Maybe I already am.

~*~*~

Field Agent Jacob Visser inspected himself in the bathroom mirror to make sure everything was in place before the meeting. Andretti, the supervisor for West Coast operations, was a stickler for details, so his suit must be perfect and his manner one of calm control. He'd worked hard to build up his reputation for efficiency in his work and perfection in his style, and he wasn't about to take the chance that his appearance would affect that, or arouse suspicions.

Visser held his hands out over the sink and watched for any signs of a tremor. He was relieved to see, as always, that his control was solid.

It's still salvageable. I just have to make sure Andretti doesn't move too quickly and get Callendar into hiding before I can get to him. Everything's in place and ready to play out. Callendar will be dead before morning.

It had been a shock to hear of Callendar's capture and arrest. The man was too good to be taken in unless he'd planned it.

It had to be a setup from the start. I knew it sounded wrong for a hit man of his caliber to volunteer to take out two detectives, even if he did sell it as a "personal vendetta" against them. Callendar must've been planning to turn himself over to them all along.

It should have been a simple arrangement. Gaetano Cicero, the leader of the largest mob in New York, and Franklin Tallman, his counterpart in Bay City, had formed a tentative partnership that could rival any of the foreign drug interests trying to find a toehold in the U.S. market. With Visser's help, well paid for by Cicero, certain files in the federal agency's offices could be altered, or false information entered that could keep the Feds out of their hair. Callendar had been sought out, by both Tallman and Cicero, to take out certain people in both cities, all of whom could cause them trouble.

With Callendar's defection, not only was Tallman and Cicero's confidential information bound for the federal files, but Visser's own cover was in danger of being blown. Callendar had seen him as one of Cicero's men, and if he ever discovered that Visser was actually a federal agent, Callendar would point him out in a second. Nick Starsky, on the other hand, knew who he really was. A fact that had annoyed and worried him as soon as he'd discovered Starsky's brother was not only a cop, but one that had been marked for death because he was too good at what he did.

Cicero was an idiot for keeping Nick around. Now that he's in jail, I can't allow him to finger me while trying to save his own ass. As for the two cops, I'll have to finish the job Callendar started.

Checking his watch, he saw it was time to head for the meeting. One last glance in the mirror, one more deep breath, and he turned and walked out.

~*~*~

Starsky stretched drowsily, wincing when a dull pain from his ankle ran up his leg. It took a moment to remember why his ankle was sore, and he groaned mentally as the last few days came back to him in a rush. He knew before opening his eyes where he was, and that he had the bed to himself. The sound of the shower told him where Hutch was.

Just a few more minutes, he thought as he pulled a sheet up over his head. His head felt full of cotton, and his tongue was telling him that something nasty had died in his mouth, all the signs of too little sleep. So many things going on...so many things to do. I need to call Ma. And Nick.

A wave of sorrow and anger washed over him, as once again the sight of Nick pulling the trigger to take Hutch's life filled his head. Starsky had been tied to a chair, watching the sight on a television screen, as Nick had tried to murder Hutch. Nick hadn't known his brother was watching, that the whole scene had been set up to expose him for the betrayer that he was.

Why, Nick? Why couldn't you tell us what was going on? Couldn't you trust us to handle the situation? Couldn't you trust me? We could've figured something out. Those officers might still be alive. We wasted so much time because we didn't know who was after us. If only...only....

He didn't know how long he'd gone over and over every bit of the last two days as he'd tried to fall asleep the night before. He'd finally gotten up, careful not to wake Hutch. He'd found himself standing at the foot of Hutch's bed, watching him sleep. Hutch's calm features, unmarked in the dim light by the ravages of his encounters, and the slow rise and fall of his chest had helped calm Starsky in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

It would've saved us some time if I'd just done what I wanted to do and crawled into bed with him. I tried not to wake him. Even asleep, he knew I needed him, Starsky thought sheepishly. He imagined he could still feel Hutch's arms around him. He's still here and he's fine. I just have to remember that and find some way to deal with the rest.

The shower stopped. Starsky gave in to the inevitable and sat up, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

Eight a.m.? That's eleven in New York. Ma should've called by now if she was flying in. She would know to try here if she couldn't reach me at my place, wouldn't she? I shouldn't've called her; she was so confused and upset about Nick getting arrested. But I didn't want Nick to get to her first and fill her head with who-knows-what.

The bathroom door opened and Hutch came around the corner. He smiled a little apologetically when he saw Starsky.

"Did I wake you? Didn't mean to." Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on one of Starsky's sheet-covered legs. His eyes search Starsky's face. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Starsky said. He found his eyes glued to Hutch's upper lip. Leaning forward, Starsky reached up to cup his cheek. Hutch looked amused as Starsky ran his thumb along the newly shaven area. "You finally got rid of that caterpillar, huh?"

Hutch chucked but looked a little sheepish. "Couldn't get that red dye out and didn't want to go around looking like some sort of clown."

"Well, that's one good thing comin' out of all of this. I like you better this way. Did Ma call?"

"No. At least not here. Are you going to talk to her today?"

Starsky nodded. "I told her I'd keep her updated. We'll have to call Dobey and see if they've charged Nick with anything and if he's made arrangements for a lawyer. Knowing Nick, I'll bet he'll be ready to make a deal, even if he has to make up the information. Damn it, Hutch! I don't want anything to do with him anymore, yet here I am losin' sleep and checking up on him. If I had the chance, I'd walk away from him and never look back."

"Starsk?" Hutch said the word softly, and Starsky looked up into sympathetic eyes. "If you could really walk away from your brother like that, you wouldn't be the Dave Starsky I partnered with." Hutch gave him a gentle shake and a smile. "Now, we've got an apartment to clean, so why don't you get in the shower and I'll break out the cereal?"

Starsky had just gotten to his feet when a sharp banging on the door startled him. He looked at Hutch, who shrugged in answer. Starsky didn't think they were expecting anyone.

"I know you're home! This is important!" the deep boom of Dobey's voice came from behind the door. He sounded almost frantic.

Starsky exchanged surprised glances with Hutch, who hurried to the door. Starsky followed, his heart starting to race.

Is this about Nick? Has something happened?

Hutch opened the door, looking carefully through the narrow gap before he stepped back and let Dobey inside. Starsky could see he'd been able to go home for at least a while, as he was wearing different clothing than yesterday, but the stubble on his face and the wildness of his hair told Starsky he hadn't been home for long.

"What's up?" Starsky asked, not liking the grave look on Dobey's face as he walked straight to the windows and slightly moved aside a shade, peering out onto the street. Dobey nodded to himself, as if satisfied with what he saw.

"I was hoping you'd both be here," Dobey said as he turned to look at them. "Callendar's dead. It happened suddenly, a few hours ago. You two need to get packed. Right now. You're taking a trip."

"Us? Why? Where?" Hutch asked with surprise.

"Just do it and I'll explain," Dobey snapped. Both Starsky and Hutch moved into action.

"Guess it wasn't natural causes, huh?" Hutch said, already on his way to the small room beside the kitchen where he kept his suitcases tucked away. Starsky started opening drawers and pulling out the spare clothing he routinely kept at Hutch's apartment. He started tossing his in one pile and Hutch's in another.

"They won't know until the autopsy, but I'd say it stinks." Dobey shook his head and sighed. "It took only hours for the government boys to elbow the local guys away from Callendar. They took him under guard to General Hospital because he wasn't feeling well, and put up a twenty-four-hour guard. He fell asleep, and a few hours later, a night nurse discovered he wasn't breathing. He was past reviving."

"They didn't find out who put the hit out on us, did they?" Starsky said grimly, starting to fold the clothing in his pile into one suitcase, while Hutch started to fill another. He knew full well that once the federal men decided they wanted someone, they didn't care what the impact was on the local level. "That's why we've gotta start movin' again."

"I don't know," Dobey said with frustration. "If Callendar gave anyone that information it hasn't gotten to me yet. But we may have another problem. The only other person who knows anything about this whole mess was attacked at the station about the same time Callendar was killed.

A chill ran up Starsky's spine and froze him in place. "Nick," he said with sick certainty.

"He's alive, and his injuries aren't life threatening," Dobey quickly assured him. "They were moving him to another holding cell when a couple of suspects got loose. A fight broke out and Nick was pulled into it. One of the suspects managed to get a knife past the booking officers. Nick's got shallow wounds on his chest and arm. He's in the infirmary, getting them stitched up."

Starsky didn't realize he was standing with his fists clenched until Hutch touched him on the arm.

"He was the target?" Hutch asked. "He wasn't just in the way?"

"A suspect gets past booking with a knife?" Dobey thundered, turning to pace the floor. "Callendar is dying in some hospital room, and the only other person that might possibly confirm anything he was telling us or the Feds is attacked. What the hell else can I think?"

"He's the only other link to New York," Starsky said grimly, grabbing a handful of his clothes and angrily throwing them into the suitcase. "Without Callendar to testify against those big shots he's been namin', they aren't gonna have'ta worry about doin' time." Another handful of clothing was thrown with force. "And Nick's the only one left who knows who put out the hit on Hutch and me, unless we can scrounge it up from the streets."

He grabbed another handful of clothing and was ready to throw it in his suitcase when Hutch grabbed his arm.

"Mine," Hutch said softly, nodding toward the wadded up shirts Starsky held in his hand. Starsky gritted his teeth and nodded. Getting angry wasn't going to help anything. He dropped the shirts down on the bed.

Hutch turned to Dobey. "Is this because you think that hit is still out on us, Captain? Because I think Starsky and I are done running."

"Damn right." Starsky turned and sat heavily on the bed. Things were happening too fast, and he felt out of control. Running was not going to make him feel any better about being forced away from his home once again. "The shit hit the fan here, so here's where we need to stay."

Dobey stopped his pacing and turned toward them, his face grave but determined. "It's not just you two I'm thinking of. If they can get to Callendar through the Feds, they can get to anyone. Until this mess is over, you two need to leave the area and take Nick with you."

Starsky was surprised. "You mean the chief or the DA is gonna let us—?"

"No," Dobey interrupted impatiently. "We're not asking for permission. You're going to take him, on my order. I'll take full responsibility. I don't want anyone to know you three are gone until it's too late to track you down."

"They'll know," Hutch said softly. "The chief and the DA will figure it out. When the Feds realize Nick is gone, they'll start looking for us. They'll figure that you helped us disappear."

"I'll just have to pretend ignorance," Dobey said, his lips showing a shadow of a smile. "I used to be pretty good at working undercover. I think I can keep them guessing for a while."

Starsky traded a look with Hutch and could tell his partner had reached the same conclusion. If Dobey felt the danger to them was real enough to put his job on the line, they'd be fools to stick around and argue with him.

"Where do we go?" Starsky said gruffly, touched by the lengths Dobey was willing to go for them once again.

"You'll have to leave the city, and it's best if I don't know where." Dobey reached into his pocket and pulled out two wads of bills; he tossed one to each of them. "Cash to get you going. It's all I could get on short notice so don't burn through it. You cash a check or use a credit card and the Feds will know where you've been. Give me a call, at home, every forty-eight hours at midnight. Use a pay phone and don't say anything when I pick it up. If I don't answer, hang up and give it another couple of days. That way, if anyone bothers to tap my phone, they won't have a chance to get a trace. Five minutes should be enough for any conversation, unless you've got trouble."

Starsky stood and slipped the bills in his back pocket. He'd wait until later to count it, but it looked to be a few hundred. He had no doubt that their captain had taken it from a personal account. Dobey dug in his pocket again, pulled out a car key and tossed it to Starsky.

"Transportation?" Hutch asked the obvious question. All three of them knew using the LTD, let alone the Torino, would be too obvious. Even if they went out of state there was no use taking a chance on having their plates recognized.

"A'72 blue Oldsmobile Cutlass with a white top and Ohio plates is parked just inside the station garage. No one will be looking for it, so you won't have to worry about hiding the plates."

"And how do we get Nick out?" Starsky asked, trying not to think about his brother's injuries too much. At least he would still be mobile.

"Cheryl Jennings is on shift, and she'll be covering the infirmary for the next hour," Dobey said.

Starsky knew then they would have no problem getting Nick out of the infirmary. Cheryl would cover for them. She felt she owed them.

"One of you walks in, takes custody, throws a sweatshirt with a hood over Nick, and walks him out, cuffed," Dobey continued. "You're both cops, no one will suspect anything. As long as they don't see who you've got well enough to identify Nick from a photo, they shouldn't have any reason to remember you doing something you've done hundreds of times before."

Starsky looked at the key in his hand, wondering how it would feel to see Nick again. "That easy? Things are never that easy."

"We wouldn't know what to do with 'easy'," Hutch said. "Captain, you'd better get back to the station and make sure you're at work when we do this. You may need an alibi."

"I'll be fine. It's you two I'm worried about."

"Thanks, Cap'n," Starsky said quietly. "Like always, you've given us everything we need to do our job." He gave Dobey a smile he hoped expressed his appreciation.

Dobey waved away the thanks as he walked to the door. "Just keep yourselves safe and out of sight until the Feds and the Department can weed out the rotten apples." He stopped and waved a finger at them. "And call, tomorrow night at midnight."

Hutch turned to finish packing his suitcase. "We need to get moving, partner. You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," Starsky said tightly, anger spilling out from some hidden compartment inside, making him wish he had something to hit. "I feel like someone's placed my head in a mixer and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Someone tried to kill my brother, who tried to kill my best friend. Am I supposed to be happy or sorry that they didn't finish the job?"

"I don't know, Starsk," Hutch said with a frustrated sigh. "I wish I knew."

"What about you?" Starsky asked, eyes on Hutch's profile. He could see that certain set of his face that told him Hutch wasn't any too comfortable with this job. "How're you feelin' about this?"

"I feel like a cop." When Hutch glanced at him, Starsky could see anger beneath the surface. Hutch's smile was sympathetic, but anger made his eyes icy. Starsky didn't have to ask to know what memory was running through his partner's mind. Hutch would have been dead at Nick's hand, if Nick had had his way. "And I'll be a cop, just like you. We'll both have to bury it, Starsk, and get this done. We're running out of time."

Hutch went to the bathroom and started pulling out items for his shaving kit. Starsky turned back to his packing, moving quickly. Hutch was right, they didn't have much time.

I've just gotta remember that I'm a cop, and Nick is just another protected witness.

Even as he said it to himself, he couldn't believe it was going to be that easy

~*~*~

Making it up to the infirmary was a piece of cake, but Hutch had forgotten just how big Metro was and how many people came in and out on a daily basis. He walked through the familiar corridors as usual and noticed he got only quick, dismissive glances from those working this shift. They would probably never remember if they really saw him here this time of day, or that he was carrying a rolled-up grocery sack.

The infirmary was on the same floor as the forensic labs, but tucked back into a corner. Medical emergencies were taken to the nearest hospital ER, but anything that wasn't life threatening could be treated here, where there was a doctor on call. Hutch knew that for some prisoners this might be the only doctor they'd see for years.

He saw Cheryl at the front desk and caught her eye. As Hutch neared, she nodded toward the rooms in the back. Hutch turned the corner and entered the long hallway that held an assortment of lab rooms and the infirmary. Cheryl joined him a minute later. So far, the hallway was empty, and Hutch hoped it would stay that way.

"He's in Room 419," she spoke softly so her words wouldn't echo. "He's been given some pain medication, but should be alert enough to be ambulatory. The sutures can be removed in about ten days, and he's had a tetanus shot. I've got a sack up front with first-aid basics you can pick up when you walk by. You know how to treat sutures?"

He nodded. We've done it far too often. I've got the pharmacy number memorized, Hutch thought as he looked through the glass on the door to Room 419. Nick was in the room by himself, lying on the cot with his back to the door. Hutch turned to Cheryl and looked her in the eyes. "You don't have to cover for us. It may get rough if anyone comes looking for us."

Her gaze was steady. "I can hold my own, and I want to help. You and Starsky..." she sighed. "We don't have much time, but I want you to know I appreciate you talking the judge into putting my father in an institution where he could get care. Prison would have just made him worse, and I wouldn't have been able to visit him as often. I owe you both for caring about him, despite what he did to you."

Hutch smiled and reached up to pat her cheek gently to let her know he understood. "I'd better get this over with. Cover yourself, and thanks."

Cheryl nodded and left Hutch at the door.

Hutch entered the room, opening the grocery sack as he approached Nick. Nick turned at the sound of the door, and Hutch experienced an unexpected satisfaction seeing the sudden fear in his eyes. Nick looked a mess. He was in prison clothing, his own probably too cut up and bloody to wear. He looked like he'd been in a fight, his nose red and swollen and his hair a mess. Hutch could barely see the white bandage inside his left sleeve as Nick pulled the arm up in front of his chest in a gesture of defense.

"You here to take a swing at me?" Nick asked, his voice echoing the anger in his eyes. "Or you here to finish the job that guy with the knife started?"

Hutch gritted his teeth as he pulled the sweatshirt out of the bag and tossed it at Nick. "You're being taken to a safe place. Get these on quickly. We need to get you out of here without being seen."

Nick's look of confusion turned to one of disbelief and fear. "You? Help me? I don't believe you. Where's Davey?"

"He's waiting outside," Hutch said quickly. "And you've got about ten seconds to decide to get dressed and come with me, or stay and see who else comes after you."

Hutch could almost see the gears turning in Nick's mind. A small look of hope flashed across his features as he reached for the sweatshirt and started to pull it on. Hutch dug out a pair of sweatpants, socks, and shoes and tossed them on the cot, while Nick carefully but swiftly pulled the large baggy sweatshirt over his head. He stood and slipped the pants on, then sat to put on the shoes and socks while Hutch stuffed Nick's prison clothing into the bag.

As Nick slipped his foot into his shoe, Hutch flipped up the hood of the sweatshirt to cover Nick's head and pulled out his handcuffs.

"Keep your face covered and don't look up. Hold your hands out."

Nick looked up at him sharply and Hutch glared at him, almost wishing Nick would refuse so he could leave him behind. After a moment, Nick held out his wrists.

"It wasn't what it seemed." Nick's voice wavered a bit, and he grew stiff as Hutch snapped on the cuffs. "I knew the gun wasn't loaded. It was just—"

"Save it!" Hutch hissed. He pulled the hood farther down over Nick's face, grabbed his left elbow, and pulled him toward the door. He did his best not to be rough out of anger. "We get out of here, then you can start the lies. Keep your head down and your mouth shut. The fewer people notice us leaving, the longer you may live."

His warning must have gotten through. As soon as Hutch opened the door, Nick's head was down and he stayed silent. Hutch checked the hallway and saw Cheryl at the front desk. His grip firmly on Nick's elbow, Hutch moved him down the hall and past the desk at a normal pace. A brown sack was sitting on the corner of the desk, and Hutch picked it up as they walked by and quickly tossed it into the larger one that held the prison clothing. No one in the hall even looked at them.

With Nick in tow, the station seemed more crowded than ever. Hutch tried to keep his pace businesslike and his expression bored. His heart beat fast, and he feared that at any second he would hear his name called out, or a shout of "escape." They wove their way through uniformed officers, detectives in suits and street clothes, all with their minds on their work. Hutch noticed a few glancing at them, then moving on once they recognized him as a cop. So far, no one in the crowded, noisy station seemed to take any interest in Nick once they saw the cuffs on his wrists.

As they entered the enclosed garage, Hutch was hit as always by the stink of gas fumes, the roar of engines, and raised voices. Usually his least favorite part of Metro, but he felt a surge of relief that he'd gotten that far with no trouble. He didn't even have to look for the car, as the blue Oldsmobile pulled up in the driving lane as soon as Hutch and Nick stepped through the doors.

Hutch opened the passenger door and pulled the seat forward. Nick entered quickly, and Hutch wasted no time getting into the passenger seat. Starsky put the car in motion before he'd even gotten the door fully shut.

"Problems?" Starsky asked grimly as he turned the car toward the exit. At first glance, Starsky might look like he had nothing on his mind, but Hutch could see how tense he was. Not once had he even glanced at Nick.

"None."

"Anyone see you?"

"Everyone. No one noticed."

As they exited the parking garage, Hutch looked for, and caught a glimpse of, the Torino at the far end of the lot. If anyone put out an APB on them, they'd find the Torino and the LTD in a matter of minutes. Anyone who tried to trail them was going to have to start from scratch.

Nick shifted in the back seat, and Hutch turned to look at him. Starsky kept his eyes on the road.

"Put the hood back up," Hutch snapped when he saw Nick pulling it back off of his face. "We're not in the clear yet, and we don't need anyone noticing you."

"Man, I knew you were working on getting me out of there, Davey," Nick said cheerfully as he pulled the hood back into place. He leaned up into the space between the front seats and put his cuffed hands out between Starsky and Hutch. "Can you get these off?"

"They stay on," Starsky said sharply, never taking his eyes from the traffic. "Sit back and shut up."

"Davey?" Nicky said in an exasperated, whiny tone, his hands opened palm-up as much as the cuffs allowed. "Look, I know things have been real confusing since we were rescued yesterday, but I can explain it."

"I said to shut it!" Starsky snapped, looking at Nick in the rearview mirror. Hutch could see the anger making Starsky's eyes flash. His voice boomed through the car. "I swear, Nick, you do as you're told, or I'm gonna pull over and kick your ass out to the curb!"

Nick gasped and quickly pulled himself back into the depths of the back seat. Hutch's hands hurt from clenching his fists so hard.

"Davey?" Nick sounded totally shocked. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Callendar was taken into federal custody and he's dead," Hutch said as he saw Nick's eyes widen. "Someone made an attempt to get you out of the way. There could still be a price out on our heads. Until we're sure that all the dirty local cops and Feds are out of the way, we're going to be laying low for a while."

"And if you wanna lay low with us, you'd better do as you're told," Starsky interjected, a sour expression on his face. "Right now, you'd better pretend like you're not here. The less we have to deal with you, the better for all of us."

Nick didn't reply, so Hutch turned back around in his seat. He could see they were near the freeway and in moments would be on their way out of town.

~*~*~

"Hey, Visser? You were originally assigned to New York, right?" Agent Johnson looked up over the table they shared in the conference room. A younger man, Johnson seemed to represent all that Visser had disliked in the new breed of agent. Book smart, with none of the military experience Visser had come to the agency with, Johnson was lacking the street smarts that would ever get him anywhere. While Visser had only contempt for the man, he kept it hidden. He never knew when Johnson might prove useful."

"Sure, kid. I worked that area for almost twenty years. It's been hell trying to lose the accent."

Johnson handed him a folder. "You ever hear of this guy up there? This Nicholas Marvin Starsky?"

"Not in New York," Visser said casually, taking the folder and looking through the print-out of Nick Starsky's rap sheet. "But I saw the file about him being taken in with Callendar. His brother's statement sure tells one hell of a story against him. Hard to believe it happened, except that the partner, Hutchinson, confirms it in his statement."

"We just got a call from our guy at Metro. Nick Starsky's disappeared."

Visser was startled. He'd been expecting to hear that Starsky was dead, according to plan. "He's disappeared? How the hell can he be missing? Wasn't he in Metro's lock-up?"

Johnson shrugged. "He was attacked in a scuffle early this morning. Must have pissed off some other inmate. He was in the infirmary, being treated for some minor wounds, and seems to have just walked out. The local cops are now questioning everyone about it, but word has it that his brother and his partner are the most likely suspects."

"Anyone check out their whereabouts?" Visser asked, trying to keep his voice businesslike.

"I guess Internal Affairs is probably looking into it, but they're on a long list of detectives and uniforms that took a powder once Callendar started talking. Their captain, Harold Dobey, claims that the two are off duty, and he has no idea where they are." Johnson frowned. "Sounds pretty fishy, doesn't it? Callendar dies and then someone tries to take this guy out. Maybe we should send this up to Andretti and see if he wants us to follow up on this angle. It's only been a few hours, so if they did take off, maybe their trail won't be too cold. We do have better resources, especially if they've left the state or the country."

Visser kept his breathing normal and tried to hide the chill that swept up his spine. He steepled his fingers as if studying the merits of the idea. "Andretti's got enough to worry about, with Callendar dead on his shift. If they find out he didn't die of natural causes, Andretti's going to be out on his ear. This Nicholas Starsky couldn't be anything but a small fry, and may have been nothing more than someone who had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think we'd be wasting Andretti's time by sending this up. The locals lost Starsky, let them find him."

Visser watched as Johnson looked over the report. I can't over play this. Even if Andretti gets that file, it won't mean anything to him. I can work on him to either ignore this loose end or give it to me.

Johnson finished reading the report and tossed it on the table in front of him. "You're probably right. Starsky's got priors, but it's all been penny-ante stuff. For all we know, he's an asshole who pushed some guy too far and deserved it. Kinda strange to think that his brother and his partner would give a shit about him, after what they claimed he's done. Probably the simplest explanation is that precinct is so screwed up, Nick Starsky actually did just walk away, and the two cops had some days off so took 'em. Can't blame them for that."

"I'm with you there," Visser said, relieved at Johnson's analysis of the situation. He reached over and picked up Nick's file. "But just to cover the situation, let me look into it. I was in the New York branch for quite a few years, and I can put some feelers out there. If Nicholas Starsky returns and has anything interesting to say, I can give Andretti a complete report. By the way, any word on that autopsy on Callendar?"

"Not yet. The lab is working on him now, but some of those tests will take a couple days before we find out if someone got past our guards, or it was just his time to go. To tell you the truth," Johnson said, getting up from his seat and stretching. "If it's got to be one or the other, I'm hoping it's natural. Things would be a lot less complicated that way."

"Yeah, wouldn't they?" Visser agreed. "Oh, and I'll be out this afternoon. Andretti's got some stuff he wants me to look into. I'll catch up with you later."

"Sure. See you." Johnson waved casually as he walked away.

Damn it! What went wrong? That Starsky kid must have a slick move for everything. He's bound to be with those two cops. Maybe he's already talked too much. I need to find them and make sure that none of them end up talking.

~*~*~

Starsky quickly opened the motel room door, his clouding breath only reinforcing the chill he felt through his leather jacket. Even his relief at the warmth inside couldn't hide the fact that their room was ugly and worn. But it was cheap, and at this time of evening, any lodgings close to the sparsely populated highway were going to be filling up with travelers. At 9:00 p.m., they'd been lucky there'd been a vacant room.

They hadn't made very good time on the highway, with the lower speed limits in place and road construction slowing them down. Nick, whom they'd uncuffed as soon as they'd left the city limits, had kept uncharacteristically to himself, which had been a blessing to Starsky's nerves. It was bad enough that he had to let Hutch do most of the driving because of his ankle, but having to make conversation with Nick would have driven him crazy. If he'd been able to drive, at least he could have kept himself occupied, and Nick's presence might not have bothered him so much. They'd finally decided to call it a night, since he and Hutch were tired, and Hutch had a call to make before it got too late. Their plans for tomorrow would depend on that call.

"I thought it was supposed to be hot in the desert," Nick said with disgust as he came clumsily through the door with his own suitcase, which held all new items that had been bought during rest stops. He flung it on the second bed with his right arm, careful of his left and the wounds that were hidden under bandages and sweatshirt. "Man, I've seen rooms on skid row that looked—and smelled—better than this place."

"Deserts are hot in the summer, Nick. It's not even April yet, so it ain't summer. And don't bitch about the room. It's the last they had," Starsky snapped tiredly. He took off his jacket and holster, placing them on the bed. It felt good to get the weight off.

"Davey? We need to talk."

It was that tone he'd been fearing to hear ever since Nick's arrest. That voice was the one Nick had used over the phone when he wanted some money or help to get him out of a jam. It worked on both him and their mother, more often than not.

"Let me guess," Starsky said shortly, forcing words through the growing lump in his throat. He kept his eyes on the bed as he tried to keep his emotions under control. "It's all a misunderstanding. You didn't know nothin' 'bout nothin', and you're completely innocent. Just like always. Nick Starsky was in the wrong place at the wrong time, again."

"It's true!" Starsky turned to look at Nick, saw the pleading look on his face. "Look, I don't know what Callendar told you, but I didn't have anything to do with those cops getting killed, or you getting kidnapped. I told the cops that when they took me in, and I wanted to tell you, too, but you didn't come down to see me!"

"And is Hutch's version a lie?" Starsky asked through clenched teeth. "You shot him, Nick. You tried to kill him. You gonna say that was a misunderstanding, too?"

"Davey—" Nick had reached out to touch Starsky's arm.

It was one move too many. Starsky moved before he thought, shoving Nick away from him hard enough to make him stumble back against the wall. Nick gasped and held his arm up across his chest, and Starsky belatedly remembered Nick's knife wounds. A flicker of guilt cut into Starsky's anger, holding him back from advancing on Nick.

Behind him, the door to the outside opened. Starsky didn't move, but watched as Nick's shocked and surprised look turned dark and guarded as he looked over Starsky's shoulder. If he hadn't already known Hutch was behind him, Nick's reaction would have told him. The motel room door shut softly.

"Don't touch me," Starsky said firmly, ignoring Hutch's presence. "And don't call me 'Davey'."

Nick, his left arm covering his chest, turned and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to shake the thin walls. Starsky winced.

"He's testing the water?" Hutch asked softly as he came up behind Starsky. He put his own suitcase on the bed, along with the sack of soda and road snacks they'd picked up during the day.

"Guess he can't get it through his head that the tide has changed." Starsky looked up at Hutch, who could see that a part of him regretted his actions. He could hear the anger and frustration in his own voice. "I...I just don't know how to handle him, Hutch. He's family, but I can't accept what he's done. Who he's shown me he is...."

Hutch reached up and rubbed Starsky's shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face.

Starsky sighed and leaned into the touch. "I know. I've gotta be a cop now. Did you find out anything about that cabin? Is it far?"

On the way to break Nick out of custody, he and Hutch had brainstormed their options. Disappearing without being traced would depend on using transportation that couldn't be linked to them, and living off the cash in their pockets. They hadn't had time to stop and get any more, and writing a check or using their credit cards would be like leaving bread crumbs behind them. They could stay on the run, but that would be exhausting. Staying at motels and eating restaurant food all the time would also consume a good chunk of their money. Hutch, who was always on the lookout for new outdoor experiences, knew a guy who had a cabin in the Schell Creek mountain range on the other side of Nevada. It was supposed to be some kind of hidden treasure for those who found the Sierra Nevada mountain range too full of tourists, although just as beautiful.

"I called Jerry, and he was surprised but said we could use his cabin. I've got the directions and he told me which neighbor has the keys. We'll have to bring up food, but this neighbor drives up once in a while to keep it stocked with anything else we'd need. He said he'd call the neighbor and let him know to expect us tomorrow, and we'll leave the rental fee with him."

"You think this Jerry's okay? He won't go spreadin' your name around if people come askin'?" Starsky knew the guy from their bowling league, although he was on another team and Starsky didn't know him well. Leave it to Hutch to home in on anyone with a green thumb and a yearning for the outdoors.

Hutch shrugged. "He's a realtor and wouldn't have an obvious connection to us. If someone puts our pictures in the paper with a wanted sign, I don't know how he'll react."

Starsky sighed. "Let's just hope no one goes that far and we find out."

"We could always keep moving."

Starsky looked up at Hutch. His fair features were too pale, and the worry and wear of the last few days made him look like he was still ill. Only a week ago, Hutch had come down with a bad case of the flu, and the last few days had been a trial of stress and uncertainty. Starsky himself was tired and his ankle still hurt. He'd only driven on it a couple of hours that day, but if he kept pushing it, he was afraid it would never heal.

"Nah. We need a place to unwind," Starsky admitted. "Give us a few days and we can always hit the road again. But we'll need those few days." A thump from the bathroom and the sound of running water in the sink brought him back to the moment. "Better get him that sack with the first-aid supplies. Guess he's gonna need help with the bandages."

"I'll help him," Hutch said quickly.

"You don't hafta, Hutch. He's my—"

"I'm fine with it," Hutch interjected, a small smile turning up the edges of his lips. "I'm the one with the first-aid training, remember? We need him well enough to be mobile, and I can keep an eye on him to make sure nothing gets infected."

"You sure?"

Hutch looked at him curiously and then gave him a teasing smile. "Don't trust me with him?"

Starsky frowned and reached up to put his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Don't trust him, babe. It's gonna be hard for either of us to deal with him, but you're the one he tried to kill—the one he thought he did kill—and was able to lie about it like it was nothin'. I've gotta deal with him; you don't."

Starsky was surprised when Hutch lifted both hands to gently cup Starsky's face. It was an intimate move, a gentle but firm embrace that for a split second made Starsky think Hutch was going to kiss him. Starsky held his breath and blinked in surprise at the movement and his own inner thrill at the very idea of such an unusual possibility.

Where had that come from?

"I'm sorry you had to see that. It wasn't fair to you, and if things had gone wrong with Callendar's plan and I'd really been killed..." Hutch's voice drifted off, and Starsky gripped Hutch's shoulder harder. It would only take a flicker of movement to pull Hutch closer and see what would happen. For a second, Hutch's eyes echoed the surprise Starsky felt.

The bathroom door opened and startled both of them. They separated and moved apart. Nick, his shirt open and his bandages off, came out of the bathroom with his eyes on his arm wounds. He'd obviously missed the peculiar moment that had somehow gotten Starsky's heart racing.

"How long've I gotta keep these in?" Nick said to the room, his voice lacking any of the anger he'd taken into the bathroom. He held up his arm, showing them two red lines on his forearm, dotted with a few dark sutures at the center of each. Across his torso, from lower left rib to upper right pectoral, was a single line with three sutures at the lower left end. There were some various scrapes and a few small bruises Nick could have gotten any time over the weekend. "Some of them are starting to itch and I need a shower."

He had a close call, Starsky thought uncomfortably. He'd seen too many knife wounds not to see what the attacker had been aiming for. The angle of the rib wound told him that the knife had been aimed between his ribs, for his heart. Either Nick turned too fast, his clothing got in the way, or both. I wonder if Dobey can get the attacker to talk and tell us who paid him.

"Sit," Hutch ordered. He nodded to the bed farthest from the door as he opened a small brown sack. Nick flashed Starsky a look of concern, as if he were afraid Hutch was going to hurt him in some way. Starsky glared back at him.

"No shower until tomorrow," Hutch said in a clinical tone that would rival the most professional healthcare worker. "I'll put the bandages back on, but the wounds shouldn't need any cleaning until tomorrow. Take some aspirin if they're bothering you. Don't scratch at them."

Starsky left Hutch to his bandaging to take a shower. The water was hot and he took a moment to let it run over his back, the sharp, needle-like pounding from the showerhead felt good. He hadn't realized just how stiff his back was. It wasn't until he opened the tiny wrapped soap that he realized he hadn't packed any shampoo, and the one room sample wasn't going to last through the three of them. The bathroom door opened and closed, then he saw Hutch's tall form moving around behind the cheap shower curtain.

"Hey, Hutch?"

Without a word, Hutch handed a bottle of shampoo around the curtain. "Need soap?"

Faking surprise, Starsky opened the curtain just enough to see Hutch's face. "How'd you know?"

Hutch smiled tiredly. "How often have we traveled together? You hate these motel samples, and you never remember to pack your own."

"You not only read my mind, you plan around me forgettin' stuff." Starsky started to lather his hair, thankful he didn't have to use what the motel provided. He peeked around the curtain to see what Hutch was doing. "Man, this must be like bein' an old married couple, only without the sex."

"Couldn't tell you," Hutch said as he ran water over his toothbrush. "My marriage never got to be 'old.' Guess you'll have to do, since you've been in my bed more than anyone else lately."

"And you've said I'm not a good kisser," Starsky said teasingly. "I told you I was!"

Hutch only grunted in amusement as he brushed his teeth.

Starsky rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and started scrubbing off the rest of the day's dust. It felt good to be clean, and the hot water was helping him relax.

In his bed more than anyone else? Well, that can work both ways, can't it? My bed hasn't been very busy so far this year, unless I count the times Hutch shared it with me. If it wasn't for the sex issue, we'd be a perfect match. Wouldn't we?

A memory stirred, something Nick had said during that terrible scene just before he pulled the trigger on Hutch. Starsky had tried not to think about it, as the feelings that had flooded him still made him uncomfortable and would haunt his dreams for a long time to come. But there was something Nick had said to Hutch that was nagging at him.

..."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!"...

Nick's words—ones that Starsky had assumed was anger on Nick's part—now seemed important.

Not that I'll ever understand him, but what made Nick say that to Hutch? Does he really believe Hutch is gay, or was he just flinging any insults he could think of? Or could Hutch have done something...unusual...to make Nick think Hutch wanted me to be in love with him?

He knew part of Nick's hatred of Hutch was probably based on jealousy. But Nick had seemed so certain of his accusations at the time.

I know Hutch loves me. I love him, too. And there was last night, when Hutch could have tucked me back onto the couch. I needed him, and he kept me safe. If he'd been interested in me sexually, he could've made a move then.

Starsky dismissed the idea. Hutch would never take advantage of that type of situation.

Earlier, I thought for a second he was gonna kiss me. I think I wanted him to. Could Nick have seen something that told him Hutch wants something from me that I haven't yet recognized...or did he see something in me that said I was waiting for Hutch to make the first move?

"Hey, you drowning in there?" Hutch asked tiredly from behind the curtain. "I'd like a turn."

"Yeah, just a sec." Starsky reached for a towel as he stepped out of the shower. Although he was conscious of his nudity, he made no attempt to cover himself as he worked on drying various bits and pieces of his anatomy. Hutch was undressing and didn't seem to look at Starsky, even though the room was so small they had to be careful not to bump elbows. Starsky felt a twinge of disappointment.

Well, maybe it's not the best of times to be looking for signs that may not be there. After all, it's not like we've never seen each other naked before. Nothing I've got can be much of a surprise.

Starsky allowed himself a new look at Hutch's body. There were few places on the tall lean form he wasn't familiar with. Starsky had always thought Hutch was a striking man. Not as obviously muscular as some, but more like the classical statues he'd seen in museums where eternal youth had been desired and worshipped. Hutch was lean, long legged with a narrow waist. He looked sleek and nearly hairless if you didn't get close enough to realize just how pale his body hair was, including his brows and lashes. Anyone could see that Hutch was a real blond, with the skin coloring to match the fine pale yellow hair that became almost white when he spent a lot of time in the summer sun.

Starsky wondered sometimes if he'd ever seen all the shades of blue in Hutch's eyes. He'd seen them as blue as eons-old glacier ice when Hutch was harboring a deep anger that couldn't be released or expressed, and a hard, cutting flame-like blue when he was hot with fury. And he'd seen them soften in love, and in a particular look of concern and caring Starsky most associated with those large gentle hands on his own body, healing, soothing, or just trying to reassure him by touch.

Hutch stepped into the tub and turned around before pulling the curtain closed and turning on the water. Starsky, behind the cover of drying his hair with the towel, had purposefully looked at Hutch's crotch. Hutch's cock was uncircumcised, long and heavy, with a large sac underneath, finely dusted with pale hair.

There had been a few times in the past when a double date had gotten double hot, and the four of them had gotten it on in the same room. While doing his best to please the lady he was with, Starsky had always been drawn to watch Hutch and his lady as much as possible. During those rare times, he'd seen Hutch hard and aroused, and hadn't been put off by the sight. In fact, the voyeur in him—that enjoyed the admittedly awkward and anonymous movies shown in porn houses—got a huge thrill out of seeing Hutch enjoy himself. But they'd never actually shared a woman, and Starsky had never thought about what it would be like to interact with Hutch in that state.

Maybe I have, Starsky admitted to himself as he found his own cock starting to fill at the thought of an aroused Hutch. He grabbed the boxers he'd brought in with him and slipped them on before tackling the job of sorting his hair into some kind of order. There've been those dreams I've had from time to time, of strong hands all over me, loving me, bringing me off. A man's hands. A man whose face I've never turned to look at. Maybe because I didn't want to admit to myself that they were anything other than odd dreams that everyone probably gets.

Starsky brushed his teeth quickly, the length of the day starting to weigh heavily now that he was clean and comfortable. He finished up and left Hutch to the rest of his shower.

The air in the motel room was cool against his still-damp skin. He looked at Nick, who had spread out on his back under the covers of the second bed. He must've fallen sound asleep immediately, in spite of all the lights in the room being on. Starsky stood at the foot of the bed and watched him. He felt as if a wound deep inside had opened up again.

He looks so damned innocent. What kind of hell is he mixed up in that we don't know about yet? When we get a breather, we're gonna have to have it out with him. If he doesn't know who wanted us dead, he's got a good idea.

He walked over to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. The motel was one story, with parking almost up to the doors. They'd had to park a row away from their room, which made Starsky a bit nervous since they didn't have a good view of the car. Not that there was anything in it to steal, and Starsky had to admit that even an all-points, state-wide bulletin on their license plate would probably not pinpoint them before the morning.

Hutch shut the bathroom door behind him and turned off all the lights as he walked over to the window to join him.

"Anything?"

"Just a few people getting stuff out of their cars. Some tired kids crying somewhere. At least we're not stuck by the soda machine. And being full up means there shouldn't be any more traffic through the lot tonight."

"I guess we should take watches." Hutch didn't sound very enthusiastic and Starsky felt the same way.

"You drove most of the way, so I'll take the first shift. What time do you wanna leave?"

Hutch sighed and rubbed his face. "It's about a hundred miles to the cabin, with a stop to pick up food and the key. We can get the food in Ely, which is on the way. I'd like to get on the road by six so we can hit the stores there as soon as they open. That would give us each four hours of sleep."

"It'll do," Starsky said. "At least we've got a plan."

"We'll have to find a phone to call Dobey from tomorrow night. Other than that, we'll just need to lay low and keep an eye out for trouble. I hope we're overreacting."

"You and me both. Better get tucked in." Starsky turned and slapped Hutch playfully on the ass as he moved around him to get a chair. "Two a.m. is gonna get here awful fast."

Starsky pulled the small table over to the window, positioning one of the chairs so he could see down the row of doors. He took the sack of travel food from the bed as Hutch moved the suitcases to the floor. Hutch slipped under the covers, and Starsky turned the room TV toward the door, keeping the sound low. They'd pulled enough stakeouts that Starsky knew Hutch wouldn't be bothered by the noise. He wasn't worried about Nick.

He dug through the sack and pulled out a warm cola. The caffeine would help him stay awake. He settled back in the chair, listening to the television while eyeing the limited view he had of the outside.

The sounds of Hutch settling in the bed next to him seemed to pull at his attention. He could tell by the way he searched for a comfortable position that his back was bothering him. After a few minutes, Hutch finally settled, pulling a pillow to his chest and draping himself over it. A few minutes later, his breathing slowed and deepened into sleep.

I must have it bad, Starsky thought with surprise as he dragged his eyes back to the window and the world outside. I'm almost jealous of a damn pillow. When did this happen? Was it because of almost losing him, or because my own feelings have grown over the years? If it was just him and me, on a trip by ourselves, I'd be looking for a reason to slip into that bed with him. And he'd let me, just like he let me last night. Is there really anything we could do in a bed together that would bother me?

Starsky had never been drawn to men, although, like a lot of men, he enjoyed watching other men have sex. But watching and actual contact were two different things. Even his teenage experience had been limited to a few circle jerks and a couple of hand jobs from close friends. The thrill had been having someone else bring him off, but he'd found no real enjoyment in returning the favor, and had done so only out of fairness. That sort of contact had been a diversion rather than a desire. A relief rather than a real sharing. Which is why he'd never sought to pursue that kind of contact when he was older.

Maybe that's why Hutch and me haven't ever messed around that way. He means too much to me to not enjoy his reactions. Whatever he could do to or for me during sex would only be the half of it. There are things I think I would do to him just to see his toes curl, to see him get off under my touch.

Once we got together, we'd probably never wanna get out of bed. And afterward, could I stand to see him with someone else, man or woman? Would it be possible to be with him in that way and then let him go?

And what does it say about me, that I'm worrying about this like a dog with a bone? Especially considering I have no clue if Hutch could ever be interested in me at all.

And yet the image of Nick blowing Hutch away was still hovering at the edge of his mind, a forceful reminder of how uncertain it was that he and Hutch had any time left together. They both were too aware that it would just take one misplaced step, one bullet, to end it all.

Starsky took a sip of his cola, then got up and walked to the other side of the window to check what he could see of the parking lot. It was quiet now as the motel full of travelers settled down for the night. He wished he could shut down his brain for a while.

He checked his watch.

It's gonna be a very long three and a half hours until Hutch's watch.

~*~*~

Hutch stood by the motel window, watching the few stars on the horizon wink out as dawn approached. No one had stirred outside since Starsky had woken him for his shift, giving Hutch too much time to dwell on their situation. He didn't like having to be around Nick, or being on the run, but he couldn't think of any other way to keep them all safe.

Hutch heard Starsky shift, and turned to check on him. Starsky was curled up under the covers of the bed Hutch had relinquished only hours ago, snoring softly.

Even asleep he looks tired. Four hours isn't enough for either of us, but we wouldn't've been able to get a full night's sleep anyway. Not while we're still on the run. When we get to the cabin and out of sight, we'll have time to relax. At least Starsky fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. No time for nightmares.

Hutch watched as Starsky shifted again until he was curled up more and his arms were folded across his chest. Quietly, Hutch went to the closet and pulled out another blanket, carefully covering Starsky with it. His partner seemed to relax under the extra blanket.

He's beautiful. If we were at his place or mine, I'd be figuring out a way to join him. And he'd let me, no matter how strange it might seem. Whatever I need from him, he gives so freely. I wonder what he'd think if I started giving him more than just innocent massages?

Hutch had always thought Starsky was a handsome man. There was just something about his well-placed features and muscular build that came together in a very male, and very sensual, way. No one moved like Starsky did. He didn't walk as much as he strutted, so sure of himself and comfortable in his own skin that his very presence drew the eye. And his eyes...such a dark, deep blue, Hutch was aware how washed-out and pale his own were in comparison. Proud of his body, Starsky had no trouble wearing the tightest pants he could find, showing off his long waist, shapely ass, and muscular legs. Not to mention how those tight jeans outlined his crotch in a way that was almost obscene.

And how many times have I caught myself admiring the whole view? More times than I want to admit to myself.

A clothed Starsky was a fascination, but Starsky in the nude was the stuff of some very hot dreams Hutch had tried not to dwell on. It was one reason why, although they'd shared the same space with some willing ladies in the past, Hutch had never felt it safe for the two of them to be with the same woman. They'd had offers of threesomes, which Hutch had chosen to ignore because of the fear of his own reactions. How could he concentrate on anyone else if Starsky was within reach—and willing?

Not such an innocent thing anymore, is it? Hutch sighed and walked back to the window. And it hasn't been for a long while. I don't even know when sex with him first entered my mind; it just seems like such a natural part of wanting to be with him.

He remembered the way he'd used all his control to keep from looking at Starsky when he'd come out of the shower. Starsky had looked sexy in a way Hutch couldn't describe—all wet, relaxed, and comfortable around him. Hutch had enjoyed the intimate feeling of sharing a space that way, but it was going to get harder and harder for him to hide his sexual interest. It was only a matter of time before he slipped, and Starsky would know.

He's beautiful and full of life, and I want to be near him. If he ever made a pass at me, I'd be all over him in a second. Have I been waiting for him to make a move? Am I that unsure about my feelings, or his? We love each other. If he knew how I feel, would he love me any less?

Hutch couldn't imagine that happening. Starsky might not feel the same way about that aspect of their relationship, but it wouldn't affect the friendship. Starsky loved him deeply, and he'd do his best to understand. He might be embarrassed, and probably even flattered by Hutch's intentions, but he'd know Hutch's feelings were based on love.

The sun was starting to rise, tinting the sky a mixture of purple and orange. Still, no one stirred outside.

Somehow, at the right time, I need to let him know how I feel. We don't have forever; we may not even have tomorrow. I want to love him if he'll let me. Maybe when we get to the cabin and can find a moment together, I'll let him know how I feel.

Maybe we can both let go of the past a little, if we can start planning a future.

~*~*~

Nick jerked awake, his heart beating a thunderstorm as he tried to orient himself. He was sitting up in bed in a motel room, his arm and chest aching slightly from the knife wounds, and already the stitches were itching slightly.

"C'mon, Nick. Time to get up and back out on the road," Starsky's unsympathetic voice cut through the fog in his head.

"What time is it?" he moaned. The light was dim and the room cold. All he wanted to do was burrow back under the covers and pretend the last few days hadn't happened. "Where the hell are we going that we need to get up so damned early?"

"There's a cabin we're gonna use for a while, until we're sure things have blown over. We need to stop in Ely and do some errands on the way, so we're getting an early start," Starsky said emotionlessly. He was putting his and Hutch's suitcases by the door.

"A cabin? Like in the woods kinda cabin?"

"It's a place up in the mountains. A private cabin. That's all I really know." Starsky turned and looked him over. "We need to get moving. You can get in a quick shave, but anything else will have to wait until we get there."

Nick rubbed at his whiskers, feeling grungy and resenting the fact that he couldn't just jump into the shower. He got up slowly and walked to the empty bathroom. "Where did Mr. Nurse go, by the way?"

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he'd said it. He could practically feel Starsky stiffen up in the room behind him.

You're never gonna get him to listen to you if you keep pushing it, dumbass, Nick chided himself. He doesn't understand how much danger he's in. There's gotta be a way I can salvage this whole screwed up situation. And to do that I've got to get him to trust me again, no matter what Hutch's told him. I've got to do something to get us some help. Neither one of them has any idea what they're up against.

"Hutch's gone to fill up the tank. We need to make sure we keep it full, just in case."

Nick brushed his teeth and shaved quickly. When he finished, he found Starsky by the curtain, watching the parking lot. Nick walked up to him, careful not to touch him. He'd have to be blind to miss the fact that Starsky tensed up as he drew closer. Starsky didn't even turn to look at him.

"You know we need to talk," Nick began carefully, schooling his anger and resentment at his brother's reaction from his voice. "Just you and me, Dave. We need to get things out in the open."

Starsky glanced at him from the corner of his eye and then went back to watching the parking lot. "You tell the cops anything, Nick? You tell them who was after Hutch and me, and how you got involved in it all?"

Nick took a breath and steadied himself so he could look his brother in the eye. He knew how to lie, had gotten pretty good at it, especially in cases like this where the truth would do more harm than good. "I wasn't involved in anything, I swear, Dave. I just came down to visit, to tell you I wanted to move to Bay City, when this all broke out. You know the rest of it as well as I do. No one knew what was going on. Me least of all."

Starsky was quiet for a minute, then he turned and surveyed Nick from head to toe. Nick stood still for it, doing his best to stay calm while watching the unreadable face before him.

Then Starsky's eyes went hard, and his voice flat. "You executed Hutch."

Nick had been ready for this. He knew Hutch would have told Starsky everything that had happened in that room. He'd spent a lot of time in jail and in the back of the car figuring out how to approach the accusations Hutch was sure to make.

"Davey, you know I wouldn't do that!" Nick did his best to sound shocked and upset at the accusation. "He's your buddy, your pal, besides bein' your partner, and I know how close you two are. An' you know me! I don't touch guns, not for any reason. What happened in that room was...all confused. You know how much Hutch had been through already, and when you got kidnapped he just sorta snapped. I wanted to go with him when he got that phone call from the guys who took you. He left me handcuffed at the station, but Callendar's cops found me and brought me to the meet anyway."

Nick stopped to take a breath and gauge the effects of his words. Starsky was still staring at him, his eyes glinting and his jaw clenched. Nick felt sweat breaking out on his palms and hoped the nervousness he was feeling would be attributed to his fearful experiences.

Come on, Davey! Listen to me. I'm your brother! You've got to believe me.

When Starsky didn't say anything, Nick continued, hesitantly. "It was...was awful. They wanted Hutch dead, and...and they wanted me to do it. Hutch was so...so beaten up that he was practically out of it. He didn't really know what was going on. I'm sure that from his side it looked...looked like I had something to do with shooting him. Callendar put a gun in my hand, but I didn't shoot it! He wanted my prints on it, and when he got them he took the gun and pulled the trigger on Hutch. It...it was awful. I...I thought Hutch was dead and I was next."

Something happened then; the look on Starsky's face changed, and Nick wasn't sure what the difference was.

"I knew we had to get out of there, and after I escaped, I knew I couldn't be the one to tell you about Hutch." Nick lowered his voice and did his best to sound contrite. "I had to think of you, Dave. I had to think about us getting out of there safely. I thought Hutch was beyond our help, and he would've wanted me to take care of you."

Nick watched Starsky's eyes close, heard the weary sigh. He suddenly looked older and more tired than Nick had ever seen him. Nick waited for him to say something, to give him a clue to what he needed to do to get Starsky to fully believe him. Starsky turned back to the window, and suddenly Nick felt like he'd turned invisible.

"Dave? C'mon, man, you need to talk to me here," Nick pleaded softly. But it didn't seem like Starsky heard him. Just as he decided to try once more, Starsky saw something outside, and he seemed to grab it with his eyes. "We need to clear the air here."

"Sit down and shut up, Nick." The words were clipped and efficient, but no more than that. Starsky left the room, shutting the door on him without even bothering to see if Nick had done what he asked.

What's going on with him? Of all the reactions Nick had been prepared for, that hadn't been one of them. Am I getting through to you? You'll have to trust me, brother, because there are some things I need to do, and I can't do them if you don't trust me.

~*~*~

Hutch pulled the car into the motel lot and parked in the back row, glad to have the car filled up and hoping they could leave soon. The sun had been up for less than an hour, and few in the motel were stirring. Hutch admitted to himself that while he usually enjoyed crisp, clear mornings, he was in no real shape to enjoy this one. He'd been up since 2:00 a.m., and the cold of the late March morning seemed to have seeped into his bones and left him stiff rather than invigorated. He'd gladly crawl back into a nice warm bed and sleep for a week if he had half a chance.

He'd just stepped out of the car when he saw Starsky leave the room. Starsky caught his eye and nodded for Hutch to follow him.

Something must've happened. I'll bet everything I've got that Nick said something and got under his skin. Anything else and there'd be cops all over the place.

Hutch followed, keeping an eye out to see if they were being watched. Starsky walked past several rooms toward the separate building that housed the office. He opened the door labeled "Laundry Room" and went inside. Hutch followed, glad to see the small room was empty.

Starsky was standing by one of the two coin washers, his back to Hutch. Strain showed in every inch of his body. Hutch turned and locked the door.

"He lied to me again," Starsky said tightly, turning just enough so Hutch could see his profile. "He doesn't know I saw the whole thing, so he lied to me. Right to my face, just like he did when he came to 'free' me from that room. He thinks since Callendar is dead, and so are the others who were in the room with you, that it's just your word against his."

Angry, Hutch did his best to push it to the back of his mind. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around Starsky's waist and pulled him close. He rested his chin on Starsky's shoulder. In his arms and under his hands, Hutch could feel how livid Starsky was by the slight tremor in his body. Always a man of action, who could explode and burn off his aggression quickly, Hutch could only guess at what it was costing Starsky to hold it in.

Starsky leaned back against him and tipped his head back on Hutch's shoulder. "I don't know if I can keep from doing something about this, Hutch. I want...I wanna hurt him. Beat the crap outta him. But I can't. Maybe when this is over, we can have it out, and I can really cut him loose from inside. But now I just feel...."

"Angry and frustrated?" Hutch suggested gently into Starsky's thick curls. He rubbed his palms over Starsky's torso, hoping it would help calm him. "Trapped? On the run? I know what you mean. But we have to find a way to let it go and do our jobs."

Starsky pushed away from Hutch, too restless to stay still for long. When Starsky turned toward him, his eyes were blazing and his hand cut the air as if he were fighting it, too. "The son-of-a-bitch lies about it, and it never reaches his eyes. It's as easy as takin' a breath to him. You and I both know what kinda practice that kinda deception takes. How something's gotta be off in a man to never have it touch his eyes. How could I not have known that he was like this?"

Hutch grabbed his arm, but Starsky jerked it away angrily. Starsky was wound up, and in this small room there was nowhere for him to let it out. And there wasn't going to be any rest from their situation in the foreseeable future.

"You have to let it go," Hutch said sternly, wishing he had some way to help him do just that. If they had any real time off from the situation, anyone to relieve them, he could take Starsky away and do something physical to help him burn off the tension.

"He killed you!" Starsky yelled, his face red with the force of his feelings, and his eyes the mirror of his horror.

Hutch moved without thinking, feeling what he needed to do rather than understanding it. He grabbed Starsky's face in both hands and stepped in so close to him they were chest to chest. In a moment, his lips were on Starsky's, pressing hard. Starsky froze, not responding, yet not trying to stop it. Hutch felt Starsky's hands on each side of his waist, and ended the kiss abruptly. Starsky was wide-eyed.

"I'm alive," Hutch said softly. His eyes holding Starsky's. "I'm here. Nick didn't kill me."

"Y-yeah." Starsky's eyes traveled over Hutch's face, as if he were drinking in his features. His hands stayed on Hutch's waist, keeping him close. "I guess I got the message."

Hutch sighed. "We've been targets before, Starsk. People we don't know, people we do know, have tried to kill both of us. The only reason either one of us is still here is because we have each other. And we still have that, no matter what Nick's done or tried to do. The other things...we'll have to work out later when we're not on the run and covering our asses."

Starsky took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and nodded. "I know. And, thanks. I think I can deal with him now." He looked up at Hutch and moved his hands from his waist to his shoulders, squeezing tightly. There was worry in his eyes. "But what about us? Something's changed for both of us, hasn't it? Best friends don't kiss, or need to be kissed."

They don't, do they? But lovers do. I guess I can't tap-dance around the subject too much longer. He needs to know how I feel, but not here, not now.

"Something," Hutch admitted with a whisper. "I think that it's...something we can deal with—one way or another."

"Just one thing, though." Starsky's tone turned serious. He reached up and surprised Hutch by grabbing a handful of hair at the nape of his neck. It was Hutch's turn to be shocked when Starsky pulled his head closer and his warm lips touched Hutch's. Hutch found his blood warming to the touch, in a way he hadn't allowed himself during their first kiss. He found himself wanting to follow Starsky's lips when he pulled away, missing the brief contact.

"If it happens again," Starsky said with a shy smile and a pat to Hutch's cheek, "I don't want it to be 'cause I owed you one. Now, let's go. We've got some travelin' to do before we can get that time alone."

Starsky turned toward the door, and Hutch took a deep breath before turning to follow.

~*~*~

Starsky carefully navigated up the road that led to the cabin. It was actually more of a trail, overgrown with weeds, brown and soft looking from the newly melted winter snows. While he could appreciate the beauty of the area, it didn't exactly match his idea of a forest. The pine trees, among others, tended to be sparse. The rough, rocky soil was sprinkled with boulders of all sizes. Even with the heat on, Starsky was glad of the heavy coats and boots Hutch insisted they buy with their limited amount of cash. They were high enough in altitude to witness patches of snow here and there that were not likely to melt until spring. If it should snow again, they might have trouble getting back to the highway. Starsky could only hope the weather held up.

The road took a turn around a group of trees, and the cabin came into view. At least, Starsky thought it was the cabin.

"What the hell is this?" Nicky asked with disgust from the back seat. "That isn't a cabin, it's a shed!"

"Get used to it," Starsky said. He put the car in park and eyed the cabin a little uncertainly himself. "In case you haven't noticed, we're here to lay low, not take a vacation."

"It'll do. I'll open it up while you two get the trunk unpacked," Hutch said as he left the car and headed for the front door with the key they'd picked up on their way up. The cold air that swept in through the open door reminded Starsky that he needed to make sure his coat was zipped. There was no telling what kind of heat, if any, the cabin was going to have.

In truth, Starsky came close to sharing Nick's assessment of the cabin. It looked ugly, like a cardboard box backed up against a rocky outcrop. There was still a bit of snow on the roof, along with what looked like pine needles and dirt. The front walls were stained plywood, and the door and windows looked like they were after-thoughts punched out of scrap wood. He'd parked to one side of the main building, and on the other side, he'd noticed a wall of firewood neatly stacked against the building. At least they'd have enough wood to burn. While Dobey's cabin was scenic, with care taken to make it look homey while blending into the surrounding forest, this place was clearly just a shelter from the weather.

"You can't be serious," Nick said in a low voice. He'd followed Starsky to the trunk of the car. "How can we stay here in the middle of winter? It's freezing out here."

Starsky opened the trunk, grabbed a bag of groceries, and held it out to Nick. "Put in some work. That'll warm you up."

Nick looked surprised, then angry, and made no move to take the bag. "I'm wounded, remember?"

Starsky shoved the bag roughly into Nick's chest and let it go when Nick instinctively wrapped his right arm around it. "You wanna eat? You do your share."

Nick turned angrily and stomped to the front of the cabin. He reached the door just as Hutch was coming out. Starsky watched as Hutch stopped for a second and looked Nick in the eye before moving past him. Nick had seemed to freeze at the sudden encounter, and then hurried into the cabin when Hutch passed him by.

He'd better be afraid of Hutch, but he'd be smarter to be more afraid of me. I just wanna get this over with and get rid of him.

Starsky lifted another bag and handed it to Hutch. "Tell me I'm gonna enjoy my stay here."

"You mean with Nick around, or in the cabin?"

"What's it like inside?"

"It's not too bad." Hutch smiled as he handed the bag back to Starsky. "But I actually came out for some firewood to throw in the wood stove. There's electricity, so we'll have lights, refrigerator, and hot water. No phone. We'll have to go back down to that gas station on the highway to call Dobey. There's one bedroom that's barely bigger than a closet, but the couch in the main room folds out. We'll also have to go to town to get our laundry done."

"Sounds like fun," Starsky said tiredly. "I'll work on unloading the car while you get the wood stove going. Then we'll fight over who gets to make lunch."

"You make lunch, and I'll get Nick to take a shower. I need to check his stitches and clean them up. Unless you'd rather—"

"No. You're welcome to him. Afterwards, we need to sit down and have it out with him. He knows something about this whole mess, and it's time to quit tap-dancing around it because we've been too busy runnin'."

"How do you want to work it?"

Starsky sighed. "It'll be best if it's just me having at him, Hutch. We double-team him and he'll dummy up. Think you can take a nature walk for an hour or so?"

Hutch reached out and put a hand on Starsky's coat-clad shoulder. "Sure. Wouldn't hurt to take in the lay of the land. Just in case."

Starsky nodded and started toward the cabin with the groceries, leaving Hutch to gather the firewood.

"Just in case." I think that's what's gonna wear me out in the end—being ready for anything, just in case. Too many times it seems to come true. Pretty soon, I won't know how to live like a normal person.

~*~*~

They unpacked while the cabin warmed up to a comfortable temperature. Starsky found that the inside wasn't as depressing as the outside. It was about the size of Dobey's cabin, only with a potbelly stove where the fireplace should be, and the nook where Dobey's bed would be was closed off into a separate room. The bathroom at least was clean and had hot water, which Nick took his own sweet time using up. The hand-braided carpet was woven with colorful scraps, like a quilt, which matched the colorful quilts and blankets that decorated the rest of the walls. The windows were high and small, probably in an effort to keep out the cold mountain weather. All together, the effect on Starsky was of being enclosed in a comfortable cave.

Both he and Hutch had unpacked as much as they could in the small space, throwing Nick's newly purchased clothing in a pile on his bed. As Starsky was making sandwiches, Nick finished his shower and grudgingly let Hutch inspect, clean, and re-bandage his wounds.

The three of them ate in silence, the atmosphere tense and dark. When he finished, Hutch got up and checked his gun, walking toward the front door as he caught Starsky's eye. Starsky took his coat off the hook and followed him outside.

"I'm just going to get a good look around, see how close we might be to other cabins," Hutch said as he looked around the grounds. "You going to be okay with him?"

Starsky crossed his arms against the cold air and nodded. "Yeah. We need to know what he knows, and the only way we'll get that is to push him into answering. I'll just have to give it my best shot."

"Are you going to tell him what you saw?"

"I don't know. Maybe once he realizes I know he's lying, he'll decide on the truth." Starsky had his doubts that would happen, and saw the same thought on Hutch's face.

"Don't let him get to you," Hutch said, reaching up to squeeze his arm before turning away.

Can't hardly help that, can I? Starsky thought tiredly as he went back inside. He hung his coat back up and picked their lunch dishes off the table. Time to have it out.

"We're gonna have that talk, Nick," Starsky said carefully, as he placed the dishes into the sink, purposely not looking at his brother. "And you'd better think long and hard about lyin' to me, 'cause our lives may depend on it."

"You still don't trust me, is that it?" Nick whined. "You can't just assume that I'm being truthful with you?"

"Truthful? You've been lying to me ever since you showed up at my apartment Friday night."

"I have not! I can't believe you," Nick growled, jumping up from the small table. "You were there, and you know what happened. I didn't have any idea—"

"Get real," Starsky said, working hard to control his anger. "You're gonna tell me how you knew Callendar and how you knew about that job goin' down on Hutch and me. And so help me, Nick, you hold anything back and I'm gonna reach down inside you and pull it out myself."

"What? You gonna go all cop on me now?" Nick sneered. "Push me around until I confess something?"

"If I have to," Starsky said, holding Nick's angry gaze with his own. "'Cause our lives are on the line here. Whoever hired Callendar to take us out is still out there, probably interested in looking for us now that Callendar is dead. And you're involved in this up to your eyeballs. You knew about the hit, and you made some kinda deal with the devil to get them to leave me alone as long as Hutch was taken out of the picture. And you were only too happy to do it yourself when given the chance."

As he talked, Starsky could see the fear grow in Nick's eyes, obviously surprised that his earlier lies had made no dent in Starsky's certainty.

Nick made a big show of sighing. He shook his head. "I told you this morning how it went down with Callendar and his goons. Hutch was out of it, Davey. I know you're used to taking his word for it, but I don't think Hutch's all there. There's something strange about him at times, and I don't think you see the way he—"

"You mean like him actin' like some goddamned queer who thinks just because I put up with him that I'm in love with him?"

Nick paled at the words, and Starsky knew he remembered saying them to Hutch.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked uncertainly.

Starsky clenched his fists. "I saw it, Nick. Remember that television in the room where Callendar stashed me while he was with you and Hutch? Who do you think was watching you pull that trigger?"

The blood faded from Nick's face so fast that, for a second, Starsky thought he was going to pass out. Something in Starsky reveled in Nick's growing horror, wanted to rub his nose in it.

"You didn't realize I had the best seat in the house, did you? Who do you think Callendar set that whole scene up for? For you? For Hutch?" He advanced on Nick, the memory of that incident still so fresh in his mind it hurt. "Callendar felt like he owed me a debt, and he repaid me with our lives and by showing me who you really are."

They were now standing toe to toe, Nick having backed up against the wall as he retreated from Starsky's advance. His eyes were wide, and Starsky could almost see the gears turning as Nick frantically sought a way to lie his way out of Starsky's truth.

"So Hutch didn't have to tell me nothin', 'cause I saw it happen. And the only thing I owe you now is this." Starsky swung, hitting Nick square in the jaw and sending him sailing along the wall to the floor. The pain in his hand did nothing to dampen the feeling of satisfaction he felt to have finally released a small fraction of his anger.

"You've been waiting to do that ever since you broke me out of jail, haven't you?" Nick said with a growl, wiping at a rivulet of blood from his lip. He pulled himself up so he was sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. "Hope you got it out of your system, because I'm telling you now that to save your life, I'd do it all again. I'll always be your brother, Dave Starsky, and I'm not gonna let you get taken out if I can help it."

"Don't do me any favors," Starsky said through clenched teeth. "I swear, Nick, you ever endanger Hutch again, and I'll take it out of your hide. And that's a fact. Now you'd better think about yourself, because if that attack on you at the station was a botched hit, they'll be only too happy to get it right the next time. If they're still after any of us, the only way we can be sure to put a stop to this is to go to the source and end it. We can't be on the run for the rest of our lives. We both know that ain't no way to live."

"I'm done talking." Nick pulled himself up, rubbing absently at the bandages hidden under his shirt. "You both wanna beat on me? Go at it. I don't know anything. Nothing at all."

Nick stomped into the small bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

Shit! I screwed that up. I knew that pushing him wasn't gonna work. He's as stubborn as I am. How can I get him to understand that we need to know everything he knows?

Starsky walked to the couch and sat down heavily.

I sure hope Dobey has some news for us tonight. If we spend too much time cooped up with each other, we'll all go crazy.

~*~*~

Hutch stood with his back to one of the large boulders that spotted the landscape, not a hundred feet from the cabin's front door. The night was cold and the stone colder, but with his hood up and hands in his pockets, his coat kept the worst of it from reaching him. The night was dark, and the moon, not yet one-third full, was close to setting. The pinpoint lights scattered through the valley were no competition for the stars that covered the sky in a pattern that reminded him of the delicate lace shawl his grandmother used to wear.

The light in the bedroom went out.

Nick must be calling it a night. I wish I could, but l have to make that trip down to the gas station to call Dobey. Then maybe Starsky and I can get a good night's sleep. He smiled at the thought of sharing the pull-out couch with Starsky. That is, if we can still just sleep around each other. I've been wanting to touch him all day. To hold him and calm him down. But with Nick in the other room, there's not much we can do.

Hutch's heart fluttered at the sound of the cabin door opening and closing. It wasn't loud, but he'd been hoping to hear it. He watched as Starsky's silhouette, padded by the thick coat he wore, moved a few steps away from the lights that shown from the front windows.

Hutch whistled softly, and Starsky turned and started walking his way. Each step made a crunching sound that seemed to echo in the darkness. Starsky came to stand in front of him, moving close enough that even in the darkness Hutch could tell Starsky was smiling that crooked smile that said he was amused by something.

"How's the view?"

Hutch smiled back. Starsky had stopped in front of him, close enough to block any view Hutch would have of the rest of the world. "Looking better all the time," he replied. "Nick tucked in for the night?"

"Maybe. He seemed pretty restless, so I don't know how much sleep he's gonna get. Me, I feel like I could sleep for a week. How're you doin'?"

"Okay, now that I've gotten a breath of fresh air," Hutch said. "I just felt so frustrated by Nick's refusal to say anything that I had to get away for a while. All I want to do is wring his neck."

"I know. I blew it," Starsky admitted, his tone angry and impatient. "I didn't play it like I should've. Now that he knows I saw everything that happened between you two, he knows there's no way I'm ever gonna help him get outta jail. Nick knows all the games and how to play them. If he knows anything, he'll tell it to the DA, not us. He knows there's not a damn thing we can do to him to make him talk."

"It's not your fault, Starsk. It's just the way things turned out. We'll do our job and keep him safe, then cover our own asses, just like always." Hutch decided it was time to change the subject. "I think there are other things we need to talk about, like what happened this morning when I kissed you."

Hutch held his breath, waiting and watching for Starsky's response. He saw a melting of the anguish on Starsky's face.

"Yeah, I guess we do," Starsky said, reaching up to touch Hutch's lips with fingertips that felt hot in the cold air, then pulled away. "You sure got my attention. I thought you were gonna kiss me earlier. I liked the idea then, and I liked it even better when you did it."

"I...I love you," Hutch admitted, feeling a flush warm his cold cheeks. "And there are things I've been feeling for you that aren't quite so innocent anymore. I just didn't mean for it to surface quite that way. It wasn't fair to blindside you like that, but now you know."

"I love you, too," Starsky said shyly. "Maybe we were both just waiting for the other to make the first move. I'm glad you did."

"What does it mean?" Hutch asked, reaching out to hold onto Starsky's arm. "To you? To us? Why now and not before? What if we find out it's just sex and not—"

"It's not just sex," Starsky said with an amused snort. "Hell, Hutch, if it were just about sex, do you think we wouldn't have tried everything there was to try between us? But we've always been...more complicated than that. We've been through so much and shared so much, we've come to depend on each other almost exclusively. Until now, that's been enough. But to make love...well, that's a huge step for both of us."

"It could be a mistake," Hutch admitted, his heart in his throat. "I want to love you, Starsk. I want to be with you and share the one thing with you that we haven't shared before. I'm not interested in anyone else, and I won't be looking for anyone. But I don't want to share you. What about the future? I know you've always talked about getting married and having a houseful of kids. How do I fit into that kind of future, and do I want to prevent you from having that?"

"A dream, like any other dream, Hutch." Starsky moved his hand from Hutch's shoulder up to his face, cupping his cheek. "Not all dreams are meant to come true, or stay a dream all your life. It's not something I think about anymore. I want someone to love, to spend the rest of my life with, who loves me in return. I already have that with you. And kids...well, you've taught me with Kiko and Molly that they don't have to be my own kids to love 'em. But what about you, Hutch? Will you find you need something more than I can give you?"

"I can't even imagine it," Hutch said, reaching up to take Starsky's hand from his face, turning it to kiss his palm. "You said we were like an old married couple, except for the sex. I'd like to be old and married to you, in every way we can find. I want you, Starsky, and I want whatever time we can find with each other."

They both moved, and when their lips touched, there was no hesitation for either of them. Starsky's lips were soft, hot, and strong on his. And in a fraction of a second, their mouths were open and tongues were dancing against each other. With his heart pounding and his head whirling, Hutch was pulled into the spicy, tangy taste of Starsky's mouth and the feel of his body pressing Hutch against the boulder behind him.

Frustrated with the coats that kept them separated, Hutch pushed Starsky back far enough to get to the zipper on his coat. Starsky caught on and worked to open Hutch's coat, their hands getting in each other's way. As soon as their coats were open they were back together again, Starsky pressing him back and their lips once more searching each other out.

It was more than Hutch had hoped for, like a breaking down of barriers that shouldn't have been up in the first place. Starsky's muscular body, always a work of art in Hutch's eyes, was hot and hard against his. He'd always been drawn to touch Starsky, and as the years passed had tried not to be too obvious about it. It hadn't been about sex, but about the bond he'd felt with the caring cop with the wild Gypsy looks. He'd needed the bond they'd forged, looked for it when he hurt and when he felt he couldn't take it anymore. Then he found himself just enjoying the quiet times with Starsky, and it didn't take a bout of terror to make him reach out and touch someone who loved him. Someone who not only allowed it, but who reached back.

With the blood humming in his head and his nerves dancing with excitement and need, Hutch's hands found Starsky's hips and he spread his legs so when he pulled them closer, the hard mound of Starsky's denim-covered crotch pressed deliciously against his own. Starsky grabbed the back of Hutch's neck with both hands, sinking his tongue deep into Hutch's throat as Starsky pushed against him, making Hutch spread his legs farther until they both found the perfect position.

"Oh, babe," Starsky groaned deeply as they both broke off for air, his lips tracing the words against the skin of Hutch's cheek. "You feel so good."

Hutch searched for Starsky's neck with his lips and sucked in the tender skin just under his jaw. At the same time, Hutch rotated his hips as well as he could, accentuating Starsky's continuing thrusts against him. Against his chest and under his lips, Starsky's heart beat crazily, the smell of his arousal and the heat of his body affecting him as nothing—or no one—had in a long time. Hutch's cock, strained against his jeans, hummed with an intensity that would soon become painful.

He nipped at the skin he sucked, tempted to linger at the site of the hot, salty taste. "Starsk?" he hissed near the ear, even as Starsky's chest-rumbling moans breathed across his own. He pushed Starsky's hips back and reached for his zipper, thankful their coats were long enough to give some cover from the cold. "I need to get at you. Hold on."

Starsky tried to follow suit, but Hutch batted his hands away and unsnapped the habitually tight jeans. Starsky's cock was a straining outline against his zipper, so Hutch forced himself to pull the zipper down slowly so nothing would be accidentally pinched. Under cover of their coats, he grabbed Starsky's waistband, ready to hold the jeans up inside the coats so as little of Starsky as possible would be exposed to the night air.

"Touch me. Oh, Hutch, touch me," Starsky moaned. His hands were fists in Hutch's hair. As Hutch found the slit in Starsky's underwear and he touched the hot cock for the first time, Starsky's mouth once again found his. Starsky undulated as Hutch pulled his cock out between their bodies and felt the heavy shaft expand and harden in his fist.

"My turn. Gotta feel you turned on for me," Starsky murmured in his ear.

Starsky shifted to one side, and Hutch groaned when he felt Starsky's hand at his zipper. He shifted so Starsky had better access. He sighed as the tight pressure against him was released and hot fingers dug into his underwear and electrified his skin as he was maneuvered out into the space between them, kept warm by their bodies and coats. As he squeezed Starsky's cock, his own was squeezed in the same manner, and when he slipped his hand down to feel the velvet-skinned sac framed by soft curls, his own balls were touched and explored by Starsky.

It was pure heaven and torture at the same time. Starsky's fingers were firm and decisive, doing everything Hutch liked to do to himself. Hutch did his best to caress Starsky's cock in the same way, enjoying the feel of soft skin over the expanding hardness that more than filled his hand. Their tongues played games, pushing their way into each other's mouths, searching and exploring so nothing could stay hidden between them.

As his palm brushed Starsky's glans, Hutch felt the warm slickness of pre-come. He used his thumb to spread the fluid around Starsky's glans, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp as Starsky pulled his mouth off of Hutch's. A second later, Hutch echoed him as Starsky's hand found his own emission and coated his palm with it, then gripped his length and pumped firmly from base to tip.

Hutch found himself leaning on Starsky more and more, both of them panting and close to the end. The edge building in his cock and balls was almost beyond endurance, and he fought to keep upright on legs that were becoming shakier as he drew closer to orgasm. He could feel Starsky tremble, and knew he was too close to last much longer.

Starsky rumbled his pleasure from deep in his chest, and his cock swelled just a bit more as his hips made one hard thrust into Hutch's hand. He stilled for a second before thrusting hard a second time. Between the thrusts, a hot, thick stream of come filled Hutch's palm and dripped down the side of his hand, further lubricating Hutch's hard stroke from the tip of Starsky's cock and down to his balls.

"Ah...ah...Huuuuutch..." Starsky's deep groan turned into a sigh that tickled Hutch's ear, and his grip on Hutch's cock tightened as Starsky rode through his orgasm. Hutch could feel the spasms of it and was careful to slow his strokes and be mindful of Starsky's now overly sensitive glans.

Starsky gathered himself, and the tight grip on Hutch's cock relaxed into another long stroke. Hutch, still holding Starsky's cock in his hand, groaned his pleasure at the renewed contact.

"Just like that," he encouraged. He pushed into Starsky's hand, the motion sending tendrils of pleasure from his cock to the rest of his body. He was brought once again to the edge, his entire body searching for the release he needed at that moment—more than breathing. He burrowed his face into Starsky's neck, and when his climax hit, he fought to stay upright as his entire body jerked in the sudden, sharp bliss of completion.

The waves of his ejaculation came hard and fast, and he felt himself spurt onto Starsky's fingers, which moved to milk him of every drop he could give. As Hutch gave his last, Starsky's caress changed to a gentle grip.

As the warm cloud of pleasure started to pull back from his senses, he realized Starsky was once again pressed up against him, the boulder at his back helping to keep them both upright. They still held each other's cocks in their hands, although neither one was still hard. Wet and sticky with come, Hutch felt a certain reluctance to release Starsky and have the intimate moment come to an end.

"I think," Starsky said, his voice shy and shaky, "I love the way you say my name when you come. Makes me wanna hear it again."

Hutch didn't remember calling his name, but then again, he felt fortunate to still be on his feet. He sighed and rubbed his cheek against Starsky's as he pulled back enough to see the flash of love in the dark blue eyes.

"Oh, God, Starsk. That was...incredible. You're incredible."

Starsky leaned forward and kissed him gently. "We're incredible. We can only get better. I hate to break this up, lover, but my ass is getting cold, and you're going to have to make a phone call soon."

"And here I thought I was the realist of the pair." Hutch chuckled. Starsky stepped back, and they tried to adjust themselves and clean up as best they could with handkerchiefs and handfuls of snow. Hutch checked his watch. "I'd better head down the mountain if I want to make that call to Dobey on time."

"Here's hoping for good news."

~*~*~

Nick stood back from the window, watching the two silhouettes merge together, and then apart, in the heavy darkness. While night hid all but their shape and movements, it was all too clear that what was going on between the two was anything but platonic. The suspicion had gnawed at him, even when it was just Hutch's actions and attitude that hinted at the two being something more. But now that it was clear Dave was drawn to Hutch as well, in a way that wasn't normal, Nick felt anger growing up through the first wave of shock.

How could I have been so blind? He accuses me of being someone he doesn't really know or understand, then who, or what, is he? Is that why he was sent away? Why he's never had any interest in coming home?

Damn him! How could he have rejected Ma and me, his own family, for men? For Hutch?

Any embarrassment or regret he'd felt when his brother revealed that he'd witnessed the whole scene in that warehouse was quickly evaporating. He was glad he'd already made other plans to get himself out of this situation.

We're nothing alike and I don't understand him. I can't understand what they are together. We aren't real brothers now, and it looks like we never were.

Nick went to the suitcase and, in the dark, rummaged through the pairs of new socks they had purchased in town that morning. He checked to make sure two of the twenties he'd lifted from Dave's wallet last night were still there. A third twenty had enabled him to use the phone at the grocery store office, while he was supposed to be in the restroom. He'd dialed a number that Cicero Jr. had given him to call only in case of emergencies.

That Fed Cicero pays for had better be on his toes. I gave him enough information that he should be at the front door tomorrow morning. There's no way I'm going back to jail. Not for those cops I didn't kill, and not for the cop I should have. This Starsky has some important connections, and I plan on using them to my best advantage, no matter who I have to run over.

He touched the new bruise on his face. The one Dave had given him.

Dave and his lover can both go to hell.

~*~*~

Agent Visser nodded casually as he passed several of his co-workers in their office hallway. While most federal agents would be off duty, by no means would his reappearance after leaving for the day look strange. Theirs was a job that quite often demanded long shifts for prolonged periods of time. They all had done, and would always expect to do, their job around the clock when needed. He could come and go at all hours and not be noticed or questioned, and had no worries that this night would be any different.

If I hadn't checked my second apartment, I wouldn't've found Nick Starsky's message until morning. The stupid jerk calls me to come and get him. I'll come and get him, all right. And if I'm lucky, he'll be with his brother and that other cop. I can get three birds with one stone.

At first, he'd been surprised to find that Nick Starsky had used the emergency number Visser used to keep his underground life apart from his professional one. Nick obviously was counting on his being under the wing of the Cicero family to guarantee that Visser would come to his rescue. Which he had to admit made sense. If Nick was on the run and wanted protection of some sort, who else would he make an emergency call to, but someone the Ciceros themselves would call?

The message on his answering machine had been short and sweet, telling Visser that the kid had limited time on the phone. He'd left his name, the name of the store and city he was calling from, a license plate number, and the highway number that would lead him to a cabin where Nick would be waiting to be "rescued."

All I need now is a run on that plate so I know what kind of car I'm looking for. I'll need copies of their photographs and a chartered plane from here to Ely.

"Hey, Visser!"

He stopped short and turned to see Johnson coming up the hall behind him. Johnson smiled as he approached. "I see you're still at it. You see the report I put on your desk?"

"No, haven't gotten that far yet," Visser replied, wondering how he could get through this exchange quickly. "What's the quick story on it?"

"They're still running the toxicology tests on Callendar, but the initial lab report from the ME says the guy was so riddled with cancer that he wouldn't have been on his feet much longer. Cause of death is cardiac arrest, but we all know the real question is what stopped his heart in the first place."

"Good thing we've got those tapes. Have you heard how much we got out of him?" Visser said, watching Johnson closely. Andretti had assigned the tapes to a special team, out of Visser's reach. He didn't even want to think about how Tallman's and Cicero's operations would be affected.

"Just rumors, so far," Johnson admitted. "When we pulled him away from the locals, they'd spent most of their time kissing his ass and getting things ready to roll." Johnson smiled. "We got there so fast they didn't have time to get much. We stole their thunder, and you can bet there'll be all kinds of flack going on for that, but who cares what the locals want? The only scuttlebutt I hear about what we got was that the questions focused on stuff Callendar did years ago. You know, the famous cases we've always suspected were his work. Doesn't sound like anything current, so you and I probably won't be getting any glory out of it."

"Well, we can always hope, can't we?" Visser said with a shrug. He fought the urge to sigh in relief. It made sense that his department would focus on the sensational cases from the past over the current ones.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work. Just wanted to keep you updated."

"Thanks. See you later."

Visser glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and he was going to have to call in a pilot. Easy enough when you had the agency badge and its resources at your disposal. But he didn't want to have to wait for the pilot at the tarmac, so he'd better get that done first.

Quick in, quick out, and hide the paperwork. No one will be the wiser, as usual. Then I can worry about those tapes, if I need to.

Visser smiled as he neared his desk. He loved it when things went smoothly.

~*~*~

Starsky slipped his gun back in the holster as he watched the Oldsmobile pull up beside the cabin, and he confirmed that there were no headlights behind it.

Not that anyone who'd be after us would be that stupid, but at least it makes me feel better.

It was almost 12:40 a.m., which corresponded with the amount of time he'd figured it would take Hutch to drive up from the highway gas station, up the hill, and then to find the trail that led to the cabin.

That call had to be short and sweet to keep it under five minutes. I hope he's got some real news.

He opened the cabin door, standing aside as Hutch walked in wearily.

"Dobey picked up on the first ring," Hutch said as he pulled off his coat. "He didn't ask where we were, just said there was nothing new going on at the office, and to enjoy our vacation."

Starsky shook his head and walked over to sit heavily on the couch. "No news is not good news. Someone's noticed Nick's gone, that's for sure. We both know Dobey will handle that the best he can, but I was hopin' that Callendar gave our guys some information on who was after us. We know damn well Nick's not gonna talk unless we start twisting his arm."

Hutch sat down next to him and grimaced. "Don't tempt me."

"So, we got nothin'."

He must have sounded depressed, as Hutch glanced at Nick's closed door, then reached over to take Starsky's right hand in his left, lacing their fingers together. Starsky returned the pressure, enjoying the callused, masculine feel of it in his.

"We've got tomorrow and the hope of a breakthrough," Hutch said. "We've hung on through tough times with less that that. We're both tired, that's all."

"What about having one of us stand guard tonight? You think we need to do shifts?"

Hutch was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Then he shook his head. "We've traveled hundreds of miles. The car and the cabin are going to be damn hard to trace, and we've been using cash all the way. Unless they can read our minds, I think we're safe here for a few days."

"Good, 'cause I'm beat. Let's get this bed pulled out so I can sleep for a few days."

They set about unfolding the pull-out couch and putting on clean linens. Starsky was glad they didn't have to resort to sleeping bags on the floor. As he straightened the covers, Hutch added more wood to the stove. They would be toasty all night, even though Nick had commandeered most of the blankets. Starsky figured it was only fair, since he'd only be getting secondary heat that seeped through the wall that separated them.

Starsky pulled off his shirt, then his pants, and slipped under the covers in his new red long johns. He watched as Hutch stripped to his long johns, and smiled at the slight flush on pale cheeks that told him Hutch knew he was being watched and was enjoying it.

Instead of turning off the light and slipping under the covers, Hutch leaned over and whispered. "You too tired?"

Starsky knew what Hutch was thinking, and he felt a flush run through his body and awaken his cock. "There's no lock on the bedroom door and it opens in, Hutch. We can't really block it, and I don't even know if he's really sleepin'. He could come out any time to use the john."

Hutch smiled and pushed away from the bed. He went to the small closet that held the cabin linens, and reached for something inside. Starsky sat up, puzzled. In a moment, Hutch pulled out what looked to be a braided string with several metal balls hanging from its length.

What the hell is that, and what is he planning to do with it? Starsky thought, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. Hutch held it up and leered at him. Oh, man, maybe I don't wanna know! Okay, yeah, I do.

Instead of coming to the bed with it, which was reassuring, Hutch walked over to the bedroom door. When it softly jingled, Starsky realized that the metal buttons were actually a row of bells. Hutch carefully looped the end of the thick string over the doorknob, and even with his slow, careful handling, the soft chimes of the bell filled the space.

Starsky realized that Nick wouldn't be able to open the door without making a lot of noise. Hopefully, it would startle him enough to slow him down and give the two of them fair warning.

Hutch checked the lock on the front door and turned out the lights. The room was by no means pitch black, as the glow of the coals in the wood stove grate cast a soft red light through the room.

"Cowbells," Hutch said as he slipped under the covers.

"They don't hunt cows out here, do they?" Starsky asked, wondering why a cabin would have cowbells and what they were supposed to be used for.

"No," Hutch said with a small chuckle. He slid next to Starsky and urged him to lie down with a warm palm on his chest. "They're just handy sometimes. Some people decorate their cabins with them, and they can be used as wind chimes, or you can drape them over garbage cans to scare away any raccoons or possums that might try to find a free lunch. I saw them earlier, when I was getting the sheets. Thought they might come in handy."

"I'll say." Starsky relaxed as Hutch stretched his full length along his side and pressed up against him. He could feel Hutch's growing erection pressing against his leg, the two layers of fabric between them not doing anything to hold back the heat of Hutch's cock. Starsky was tenting his own long johns, having filled quickly as Hutch moved toward him.

Hutch moved his hand on Starsky's chest in small circles that widened with each round. It was a warm caress that started a wonderful tingle in Starsky's chest and balls. He hummed his approval softly and watched Hutch's face. Even in the reddish light, Starsky could see his face flush slightly, and when he looked at Starsky, he saw that Hutch's eyes were growing darker as his desire grew.

Unable to lie still, Starsky reached up to touch Hutch's face, his favorite starting point. He drew a finger across an eyebrow, down to a curly blond sideburn and back over to the lips that would forever fascinate him.

Sliding the fingers of both hands through the fine blond hair, Starsky pulled Hutch's head down to his, encouraging Hutch to move on top of him as their mouths found each other.

The taste of Hutch in his mouth was sweeter than any wine, and Starsky couldn't think of anything better. As he took Hutch's weight, Starsky moaned at the feeling of being covered. He'd never thought he'd like the sensation of another man's body on top of his, but Hutch was beyond everything he thought he could ever find attractive in another male. Instead of how he'd imagined he'd feel—a competitiveness or an urge to defend his private space—Starsky could only find comfort and excitement in the position. He opened his legs so Hutch could slide his knees between them, mirroring Hutch's actions only hours ago.

Both of them moaned into each other's mouths as their cocks massaged each other through the textured fabric of the long johns. They were hard enough to be erect against their own bodies, bringing the sensitive undersides into line against each other as they both arched and rubbed.

It was wonderful, sending spikes of pleasure throughout Starsky's body, making Hutch rumble against him as well. But it soon grew too frustrating, with the touches too mild and the fabric in the way. He would have loved more, but the pull-out bed was already making light noises of protest at the activity, and anything more involved might wake up Nick.

Starsky pulled Hutch's head back a bit, sucking and biting at his lower lip as he did so. "Hutch," he breathed out huskily. "Wanna do a sixty-nine?"

"You sure?" Hutch asked in a low whisper. "I've never...uh...done that before. I might not be any good at it."

"Me neither," Starsky admitted shyly. "But I wanna be closer to you, Hutch. If we're careful, we won't make much noise. I just wanna to do something with you that's just between us, up close and personal. I don't care if we're any good or not."

Hutch didn't answer, but pulled back and burrowed under the covers. Starsky rolled on his right side, and as Hutch pulled up the tucked-in end of the sheet and blankets so he could breathe, Starsky went to work unbuttoning the fly of Hutch's long johns.

Pulling out the swollen organ he'd pleasured not long ago, Starsky realized this was the first chance he'd had to really look his fill. Close up it seemed huge. Solid and evenly shaped, it curved gently toward Hutch's stomach. His foreskin was pulled back behind his glans, which glistened with moisture. At the base of the cock was the soft sac that Starsky had barely touched before. His balls were large and evenly sized, moving a bit loosely in the sac as Hutch moved into position and unbuttoned Starsky. The soft fur that covered Hutch's sac and inner thighs was a couple of shades darker than his head hair, but still much lighter than Starsky had seen on anyone else. And from their earlier encounter, he knew how soft it was, although not nearly as thick as Starsky's own. And down the center of the gently throbbing shaft was the vein that pulsed invitingly.

Starsky closed his eyes as Hutch's strong fingers touched his erection. He could feel Hutch pull the fabric away from his body. His cock jerked as Hutch drew close enough that Starsky could feel his breath. Starsky leaned in and inhaled the spicy musk that wafted off of Hutch, enjoying it in a way that surprised him.

As if planned, Starsky stuck out his tongue and touched it to Hutch's cock at the same instant Hutch touched his. He loved the feel of Hutch's tongue on him and returned the pleasure, licking up Hutch's length as he pulled the cock to him. Hutch tasted like he smelled: spicy, clean skin, and excitement. In between his licking, he could hear Hutch do the same, with a light humming under the breath of his pleasure.

What Hutch was doing to him felt more than good, but it wasn't enough. Angling himself and Hutch, Starsky took the plunge and took Hutch's glans in his mouth. Hutch froze, then gasped as Starsky sucked him in farther, trying not to scrape the tender skin on his teeth.

Hutch copied his move, and Starsky himself froze with Hutch in his mouth. The tight, hot tunnel pulled at him, and he fought the urge to thrust. Plenty of the women he'd dated had pleasured him in this manner, but somehow it was better with Hutch. For a second, he wondered if it was because Hutch was male and knew what it was like to be on the other end, but soon his attention was called back to the sensation, and he shelved the question for later research.

Doing his best to give Hutch the sensations he most enjoyed, Starsky went to work in earnest, sucking, kneading, and rubbing not only his cock but his balls as well. And Hutch did the same, creating a conflict between the part of Starsky that wanted to give his full attention to Hutch's pleasure, and his own cock, which was sending such wonderful signals to his body and brain.

Under his tongue and in his hands, he felt the signs that Hutch was close. Hutch's balls, already tight against his body with arousal, pulled in even closer. Hutch was doing his best to control it, but shallow hip thrusts were coming faster, as was his breathing. Hutch's attention to Starsky's pleasure paused once in a while as his attention was claimed more and more by what Starsky was doing rather than by what he was doing.

Encouraged by the reaction, and wanting Hutch's undivided attention to be on his cock, Starsky increased his efforts, and just when he thought Hutch was at the edge of climax, he held his breath and swallowed as much of Hutch as he could.

Hutch yelped in surprise then gasped. Starsky felt Hutch's cock flair at the back of his throat, and was ready as Hutch thrust forward helplessly, Starsky's hands keeping him from pushing any farther down his throat. Starsky felt the spasm in Hutch's limbs as well as his cock. The sudden spurts at the back of his throat threatened to make him gasp for air, but he held on, not wanting to swallow and over stimulate Hutch. When Hutch groaned and tried to pull back, Starsky swallowed his come, not really tasting it, since most of it was well past his tongue and in the back of his throat.

Hutch moved his thigh, and Starsky pillowed his head on it, relaxing as Hutch turned back to pleasuring him. Starsky closed his eyes and let his whole world narrow down to what Hutch was doing to him.

Soon he reached that sharp edge, where climax was close but not quite there. He pulled Hutch close, burying his face in his crotch. When the orgasm hit, he felt like he was being pulled out of himself as each clenching wave passed through him, and he tried to remember to keep quiet. He wasn't sure if he was successful or not.

As the last wave passed through him and left him feeling boneless, he pulled back, aware that Hutch was swallowing his come as well. For a few minutes, they both lay without moving, except for the heaving of their chests as they tried to catch their breath. Finally, knowing they were tempting fate, Starsky sat up and started to cover himself. Hutch rolled on his back and did the same, then turned back under the covers to face Starsky.

"You know, I think I'm really going to like this sex stuff," Hutch whispered, his innocent tone belied by the evil smile on his face.

Starsky chuckled softly. He kissed Hutch gently. "Same here, fellow sex fiend."

"Good night, Starsk." Hutch settled into his pillow. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Starsky snuggled into his own pillow.

And in the red glow of the wood stove, they both drifted off.

~*~*~

The sun had been up for hours now, but the weather was cloudy enough that it hardly seemed like it was nearly noon. Visser turned up the collar on his coat, wondering if it would decide to snow or rain later on. He hoped it would be neither, because extremes in temperature could spoil his aim, and he didn't intend to miss.

The cabin had been fairly easy to find. There were several cabins in this area, but the attendant at the gas station had been able to point him in the right direction. Many of the cabins were off the road, but there were several full-time residents that lived along the highway. He stopped to ask directions. Questions about buying a cabin in the area brought out a lot of information, including which cabins were usually empty this time of year, and which ones had owners who might live in Bay City. Of the four possibilities, the third on the list had the blue Oldsmobile he'd been looking for.

It had taken him a while to walk up from the small side-road where he'd parked the truck he'd stolen in Ely, hours ago. He didn't want the men in the cabin to be alerted by the sound of an engine, nor did he want to make excessive noise on his walk in. So far, he'd not seen any signs that anyone inside knew he was there.

They could be hunkered in for a while, depending on how much firewood and food they've got. With that cord of firewood next to the building, they may not have bothered to bring too much inside. I can wait until one of them comes out for more wood, but that could take hours. They'll also be armed, so I need a way to drive them out and pick them off quickly.

He came up with several possibilities and decided to keep it simple.

The roof is easy to reach. A bit of gas in a bottle, straight down that stovepipe, will drive them out if it doesn't blow them up. By the time they figure out what's happened, I can be back in place and ready to pick them off.

With no time to waste, he went to prepare his surprise.

~*~*~

Nick woke with a start, wondering for a moment where he was. Without a clock, he couldn't tell what time it was in the dark room. It was daylight, but looked like it must be cloudy to make the room so gloomy looking. Sitting up, he had to unwrap himself from the tangle he'd made of the blankets. He'd slept in his clothing, in case his rescue came during the night, and now wished he hadn't. His healing wounds made their presence known.

He heard the sound of clanging dishes from behind the door. Although there was food and warmth in the next room, that didn't make the thought of facing the two men out there any less unpleasant. Not even the smell of hot coffee seemed tempting. If it weren't important that he visit the bathroom, he'd be tempted to ride out the rest of his time in this room, rereading the year-old hunting magazines that held no interest for him.

Nick opened the door and headed straight for the bathroom, glad it was empty. Starsky, sitting on the couch and looking through a magazine, didn't look up at him. Hutch, who was in the kitchen, looked at him and then back at the dishes he was washing. Both men's expressions were unreadable, and he trusted that his own held nothing more than his intense dislike of mornings altogether.

It wasn't until he'd showered that he realized he'd forgotten to bring his shaving kit with him. It didn't take him long to decide not to bother. If he was going to be stuck in the wilderness with two freaks of nature, who would care?

After delaying as long as he could, he opened the door and decided to head for the kitchen. Now that he was hungry, the aroma of the coffee was killing him.

Hutch was sitting across from Starsky on a wooden stool, a cup of coffee in his hand. They were leaning toward each other. Talking softly. The sight brought back the anger of last night as it reminded him of what he'd seen from the window.

Gritting his teeth, Nick slammed a clean mug down on the table and filled it with the remaining coffee. Then he tossed the empty pot into the sink for good measure.

He walked up to the front window and looked outside. It was too high and narrow to get a good view of the surrounding area, but what he could see looked cloudy and dismal, like snow or rain coming in.

"We're not your maids, Nick," Hutch said stiffly from the other side of the room. "Refill it, clean it, or stay out of it."

"Fuck you, Hutchinson," Nick said loudly to the window. "Or would I have to get in line, behind my brother and whoever else you let up your ass?"

Silence hit the room like a sledgehammer. Nick could have sworn that the temperature dropped as well. When he heard movement, he turned to look at Starsky and Hutch who were both standing. Hutch was clearly livid, his eyes as cold as ice, his jaw clenched so tightly he looked close to cracking teeth. Starsky's hand was on Hutch's arm, holding him back Nick supposed, his face showing Nick that he'd hit a nerve there as well. Nick was enjoying the sight.

"Nick, this isn't exactly a smart time to go pickin' fights," Starsky said sharply. "We're as trapped here as you are until it's safe to take you back. We've gotta make the best of it, or we'll rip each other apart."

"Just clearing the air, brother. You think I don't know what's going on between you two? What you were up to outside? Or on that couch last night?" Nick took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the effect his bluff was having. He'd only had a hint of what went on outside and had actually fallen asleep before Hutch's return from the phone call to their captain. It was an easy assumption that they'd put the pull-out bed to good use, considering they'd been so cozy in the past. >From the shocked and slightly guilty look on both men's faces, Nick knew he'd guessed right. "You and Hutch are both disgusting perverts! No wonder Ma shipped you off. You woulda been an embarrassment to the whole family in New York."

It was Starsky's turn to get livid. His eyes burned into Nick, who stood his ground, knowing deep down the worst he could do to him was slug him again. And this time, Nick would be ready to hold his own.

His brother looked like he was going to explode, with Hutch right behind him.

Just as Hutch opened his mouth to say something, a loud blast filled the room, knocking Nick backward before he'd even had time to register the sound. In a fraction of a second, smoke billowed out and filled the small space.

"Take cover!"

Nick hit the floor, remembering the last time a bomb went off near him. Is this my rescue? He must have sent something down the stovepipe. Hell of a way to let me know he's arrived!

He could hear the others moving around; they were coughing violently, since they'd been standing next to the stove. But they were armed, and Nick knew they'd be covering the door, which was the last thing he needed. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and bolted for the door he could no longer see. The smoke quickly blinded him, and distance was deceiving. For a frantic few seconds, he fumbled at the wall for the feel of the knob.

He found it, just as he felt someone come up behind him. He flung open the door and stumbled outside into the cold, grateful for its stinging clearness. "I'm here! I'm here; let's go!" he yelled around his urge to cough.

"Nicky!" Starsky's voice called out from inside the smoke-filled doorway.

Nick moved away from him and felt a thud in his side, as if he'd been hit by a fastball. Falling backward, he caught a glimpse of Starsky making a dive for him, and he realized he'd been shot.

"Goddamned idiots!" Nick moaned clutching his wounded arm to his burning ribs.

Starsky was on his hands and knees, grabbing for Nick's feet as Hutch ran outside and filled the air with a round of fire. Starsky pulled him bodily away from the door to the cabin and behind the Oldsmobile. Starsky hunkered down with his gun drawn, smoke-smudged face scanning that side of the woods for an ambush.

Apparently satisfied there was no gunfire from that direction, Starsky turned and started shooting over the hood of the car.

"Hutch! Over here!"

Whatever Hutch yelled back though the thunder of gunfire must not have been good. Starsky swore under his breath and tossed a set of keys at Nick. Nick fumbled for them, the pain in his side throbbing like crazy and making his head fuzzy.

Suddenly, Starsky was pulling him up and shaking him enough to clear his head. "Take the damn car and get out of here!"

Starsky pulled the car door open and shoved Nick inside. Pure terror flooded through him, and he crawled into the driver's seat. Grateful for once that the ignition was on the right side, he was able to shove the keys in while keeping low.

"Go! Go!"

Under a hail of gunfire from his brother's gun and the roar of the engine, Nick threw the car into drive and hit the gas, barely able to see over the dashboard. The car bucked on the rocks and ruts in his path, and Nick had to fight the steering wheel, finding his left arm hard to control over the almost blinding pain in his right side.

He managed to hit the trail and floored the gas. The trees, sparsely spaced compared to Nick's idea of a forest, seemed to come at him faster and faster as he struggled to get away from the scene behind him. The gunfire seemed to recede farther in the distance. But the pain was eating away at him, and whatever energy he'd found before was disappearing as the world started to go dim and fuzzy.

Oh, God. What have I done?

Then the world jolted, twisted, and everything went black.

~*~*~

The smell of the room told Starsky he was in a hospital before he even opened his eyes. He moved a little, feeling clean sheets against his skin, and he realized a hand was holding his.

"Starsk?" Hutch's teasing voice came through the confusion, helping to clear the thick mess in his head. Hutch's hand squeezed his. "Come on, buddy. Time to come out of it. You're just not sick enough to keep me waiting on you."

"Huh?" Starsky swallowed, his mouth dry and thick from some kind of medication. His eyes felt sticky and heavy. "Wha's the matter?"

"You were shot, had a graze and a knock on the head. They had to patch you up, so they put you under for a while. You've got a nick in your ribs, which broke a couple, and a bullet went through your upper thigh. Nothing vital was hit, but you're going to be limping for a while."

Finally able to focus, Starsky saw that Hutch looked tired and was sporting some new bruises on his face. "You okay?"

Hutch smiled a little. "Just tired and sore. Nothing a year's vacation and a case of aspirin won't fix."

Starsky tried to remember what had happened. He remembered the wood stove blowing open and the pain as ash and sparks hit him. Then his struggle to find Nick in the smoke, and the horror of seeing him run outside and into danger. Then there was the firefight, Hutch pinned down and unable to move, and Nick taking off in the car. He'd tried to get to Hutch, but after that, things were fuzzy.

"You got the bad guy?"

"The cavalry arrived, Starsk. From the woods and by helicopter. The Feds took out the sniper and brought us to the hospital."

"The Feds? Hell, we need to work on our hiding skills. Everybody must have known where we were." Starsky relaxed, then a thought hit him as he tried to pull the rest of it out of his memory. "Nick's okay, right? He had the get-away car."

Hutch's face grew more controlled at the question, and with a sinking heart, Starsky realized that Hutch had been waiting for him to ask. Hutch squeezed his hand hard and reached up to touch Starsky's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Starsk." It was said with true sympathy, and there was no doubt Hutch had meant the words sincerely.

It hurt like an open wound, with a rush of sorrow and regret that brought tears to his eyes. "How?" he asked simply, grateful for Hutch's hand in his.

Hutch's fingers brushed at a tear as it slid down his face. "They told me the sniper hit the gas tank when the car hit the bend."

"Did you see it?" Starsky asked, hoping that somehow there had been a mistake. "Did you see the explosion?"

"Not at the time," Hutch admitted gently. His hand left Starsky's face and started to rub comfortingly at his arm. "You went down, the helicopter appeared, and all hell broke loose. I thought for sure we both were finished. Bullets were flying everywhere and I'd run out of ammo. I was trying to get to you when I was jumped from behind. Several of them had to sit on me before I stopped fighting long enough to realize they were the rescue and that the shooter was down. I didn't see the explosion, although I probably heard it. The helicopter was loud and men were everywhere, checking us out and trying to secure the scene."

Hutch paused, then sighed. "I'm not sure how long it all took, but by the time they'd called the helicopter to land at the highway and the Feds had sent a car up the hill to take you to it, I could see the smoke and knew that something was burning. We passed it on the way down, but you were groggy and in a lot of pain."

"Did...you see...him?"

Hutch nodded and swallowed thickly, his face a study in misery. "They towed in the car and brought Nick in to the morgue. I knew you'd want to be sure, so I viewed the body. They had to identify him from prints they found in the cabin, Starsk. There wasn't much left of him."

The tears came first, then the sobs as Starsky let his grief flow over and take him, while Hutch did what he could to soothe him.

Oh, Nick. Did we ever have a chance?

~*~*~

Agent Johnson walked into Supervisor Andretti's office. He shut the door behind him and handed Andretti a copy of the newly finished report. Andretti, never one for smiles or levity in his offices, looked at the report grimly. "You almost arrived too late," he said harshly.

"I know, sir," Johnson admitted, "but we had some trouble keeping track of Visser after he'd stolen the truck. Our agent in the field almost missed that exchange of transportation. It did slow down our arrival to the scene, so I'm afraid I'll have to take responsibility for that mistake."

Andretti nodded. "Just as I'll have to take responsibility for Visser's betrayal and the death of Callendar. If I'd been in this job much longer, I'd be taking all the blame for Visser. As it is, if I don't lose my position over this, I'll be ordering everyone to go over every file and every assignment he'd been linked to since he was hired."

Andretti scanned the report, flipping pages as if looking for something. "What do we know about Nicholas Marvin Starsky?"

"His connection to this whole situation came through Gaetano Cicero, Jr." Johnson shifted in his chair as he warmed up to his story. "Nicholas' rap sheet is unremarkable. Penny-ante stuff. A bust here and there, but nothing that kept him in jail any longer than it took his mother to bail him out. His big break came about nine months ago when he was lounging in a club, one that Cicero, Jr. happened to be in at the time. Nicholas recognized some men who belonged to a rival family taking strategic places inside. That tipped him off that a hit was about to happen. Nicholas sidled up to the Cicero kid, gave him the bad news in a calm and friendly manner, and the whole Cicero group left by the back exit in order to avoid any gunfire."

"So, in gratitude, Gaetano Cicero Senior adopted him and gave him 'responsibilities' and a hefty bank account as repayment for saving his son's life."

"That's about it," Johnson agreed. "This led to him finding out about his brother being on Tallman's hit list. Cicero understands about family, so when Callendar volunteered to take the two detectives out, he allowed Nick to strike a deal for his brother's life."

"And what happened this morning?"

"Detective Starsky was wounded, and we had him and his partner helicoptered to the hospital. Detective Starsky will recover completely. Detective Hutchinson was not badly wounded, although I have to say, he did some damage of his own before they got him subdued. I think we're lucky he'd run out of ammo when he did."

"If you'd been there on time, he never would have needed to use his gun," Andretti rumbled unhappily.

"Yes, sir. My responsibility entirely."

"And it was your idea to torch the car?" Andretti asked, approval in his voice.

"Yes, sir. Nicholas was recognized at the scene from photographs, so I ordered the car torched. I decided that if things didn't go as I suspected they would, no harm would be done. We could always claim we pulled him out of the car in time. But it made a convincing cover, if I do say so myself."

"So, he's accepted all of our terms and conditions?"

"In full. As of now, Nicholas Marvin Starsky is part of the Witness Protection Program. As soon as he came out of surgery, he practically jumped at the chance. I think he realizes that he's burned all his bridges behind him, and if the mobs in New York don't get him, those in Bay City will. They'll lump him in with Callendar's change of heart, whether he had anything to do with it or not. Plus, there's a chance the Bay City DA's office might try to charge him in the deaths of those four cops, even if he didn't pull the trigger himself. He'd be a sitting duck in jail, as was already proven."

"Good. He may not have Callendar's history or background, but I think he's probably seen and heard enough about the Cicero and Tallman alliance and their enemies that he can give us a good start on tearing them all down. I wouldn't mind taking credit for those kinds of results, and I assume you wouldn't either."

Johnson smiled. "Yes, sir! But we'll have to keep an eye on Nicholas. He's a good liar and will cover his ass at all times. We can never trust him, and we can never be sure he's not going to be keeping some information in reserve."

"You're sure that his brother bought his death? He won't go looking for him, will he?"

"Detective Hutchinson inspected the vehicle and viewed the burned body we supplied. While he was obviously more concerned about his partner, Hutchinson seemed to be convinced that the body was that of Nicholas. We've already got his dental records in New York replaced, in case his brother, or anyone connected to Cicero, ever gets the urge to check. While it's certainly possible Detective Starsky may try to identify his 'killer,' there won't be any way for him to identify Agent Visser as the sniper. Anyone could have been after Nicholas at that point."

"Too bad we have to put Detective Starsky through this. I've read his and his partner's files. Somewhat unorthodox at times, but very impressive. I do hate to reward that kind of dedication to the job with such deception."

"Frankly, sir, if you ask me, I think we're doing him a favor in the long run. A brother like Nicholas is like a ten-ton stone around a good cop's neck. Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson are close, and Dave Starsky still has his mother and a large family in New York to support him during his loss. I think he can get through this and come out all right at the other end."

"Let's hope so." Andretti closed the file, signaling that the meeting with Johnson was over. "We screw up enough lives as it is. Let's not do it any more than we have to."

Epilogue

Harold Dobey waited patiently as the plane from New York rolled up to the gate in preparation for disembarking. He'd been only too glad to take a break from the mess happening downtown to pick up Starsky and Hutch from the airport.

I hope they both got to relax and recharge. Funerals aren't the best way to get some time off, but there's certainly something to be said for spending time with your family to help the healing process along.

It had been a nasty surprise to get that phone call from Hutch, explaining that Nick was dead and Starsky was in the hospital. It had confirmed Dobey's gut feeling that the attack on Nick in the jail cell was intended to take the young man out, and that his detectives were still in danger from whomever had hired Callendar in the first place. He'd spent the last week second-guessing his own decision to send them out on their own, wondering if things would have ended differently if he'd kept them close.

It all comes down to trust, doesn't it? We've all learned the hard way that it can too easily be sold to the highest bidder. Detectives, uniformed officers, judges, lawyers, and city officials...all those offices I was raised to trust and put my faith in have, at one time or another, had their bad apples. I trust Starsky and Hutch to do their best and to protect each other. I guess I'll have to trust that my own instincts were right.

After Hutch called him about Nick's death and their rescue, Dobey had arranged for the Starsky family's rabbi to notify Mrs. Starsky of Nick's death. Nick's body had been flown almost immediately to New York in preparation for a Jewish burial, with Hutch and Starsky not far behind. Starsky had practically walked out of the hospital while still in his paper gown in order to be at Nick's funeral and to be with his mother during the week-long funeral ceremonies.

The gate was soon filled with a stream of passengers from the plane and those who had come to meet them. It wasn't hard to spot Starsky and Hutch. He was glad to see that Starsky was moving fairly well, considering his bad leg and broken ribs. He looked rested, although subdued. It was no wonder he wasn't looking his best.

Hutch smiled when he caught sight of Dobey, and he touched Starsky's shoulder to steer him in the right direction.

"Thanks for coming to get us, Cap'n," Starsky said with a tired smile. "I know they must be keepin' you busy at the station."

"That they are," Dobey admitted, patting Starsky gently on the shoulder. "All the more reason to take a few hours off any time I can manage it. How are you feeling?"

Starsky shrugged with one shoulder. "I'm fine."

"He's still healing," Hutch said quickly. "His leg wound is doing well, but those ribs are still hurting him. He's going to need at least a few more weeks' rest before he can do anything really physical, even though it's all I can do now to keep him from carrying his bags."

Dobey watched with amusement as the look on Starsky's face turned to one of familiar exasperation.

"Hutch, you always worry too much. There's nothing wrong with me—"

"That time won't mend," Hutch interjected in a lecturing tone of voice. "You're never patient enough to let things heal properly. Like that ankle of yours. If you'd stay off of it long enough, it wouldn't get twisted so easily."

"You and my mother..." Starsky said with a sigh as he limped past them toward the luggage carousels at the other end of the terminal. "I'm being ganged up on."

Following him, Dobey and Hutch hung back until Starsky was out of earshot.

"How did the funeral go?" Dobey asked under his breath.

"It went well. Starsk and his mother sat shiva together, and I think that helped both of them deal with the situation. They've got a lot of family back there, and when it was time to leave, he felt she was okay, that she'd be supported. She's still trying to get him to move back, and he's still trying to get her to move out here. They're both pretty stubborn."

"What was she told about Nick's death?"

Hutch sighed. "Mostly the truth. That Nick was into something very, very dangerous, that he was attacked in jail so we tried to take him to a safe place. It didn't work, and Nick died in an accident while trying to escape his attacker."

"That had to be hard for her to hear."

Hutch nodded. "She's got questions. We all do. She loved Nick, but she's not naive. Whatever she might have thought about Starsky not being able to save him, she recognized that he's just as torn up about this as she is. It did them both good to have the week together to mourn. They needed each other."

"It didn't hurt that you were there as well," Dobey said with a smile.

"Works both ways." Hutch shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "By the way, the Starsky relatives won't want to get officially involved, but there were more than a few cousins and great-uncles that slipped me a word or two about what Nick had been up to this past year. The Cicero family was mentioned a few times, and apparently Nick had been hanging out with Gaetano Cicero's son. Word is that Nick bragged that he'd saved the son's life, and was on his way up in Cicero's world because of his good deed. More than a few of them thought Nick must have screwed up in some way, and the Ciceros don't allow screw ups."

Dobey took a deep breath and blew it out. "I've heard of them. Makes you wonder how Callendar knew about Nick, if Nick was working for a New York family."

"Yeah, it does." Hutch shook his head. "Have the Feds said anything about what happened?"

Dobey grunted his displeasure. "No. They never give us anything. We don't, and won't, know the identity of the shooter or why the Feds were keeping an eye on you three, except that it must have involved Nick and the Ciceros. And we still don't know what put you on Callendar's hit list. You could still be—"

"We know," Hutch said. "But with everything that's gone down in the last few weeks, we figure the local bosses have a lot more to worry about than two street cops. We can only be as careful as we've always been, and go back to doing our jobs."

"But not for a couple of weeks," Dobey said. "You both need some time off. By the way, Edith and I cleaned up Starsky's apartment, watered your plants, and collected mail for you both. Edith bought some fresh groceries, so you won't have to shop for a few days. I packed up what looked to be Nick's suitcase and the few things he had around and took them to my place. Dave can come for them any time he feels the need."

"Thanks, Captain," Hutch said with heartfelt sincerity. "It'll help him a lot to be able to go straight home and rest, without having to worry about all that. It really means a lot to us to have you watching our backs like this."

"Goes both ways," Dobey said gruffly, glad he'd been able to do what he could. "Would you like me to drop you off first?"

"That's okay. I think I'll hang around his place tonight. Make sure he's okay with everything before I go home."

They'd caught up with Starsky, who was waiting with the growing crowd by the luggage carousel. Dobey stood back a little, watching as Hutch moved next to Starsky and put an arm around his shoulder, and saw Starsky lean into him. Hutch whispered something to him that got a nod in return.

It was good to see them back, and together. It would have been beyond tragic if only one of them had survived. There was just something about the two of them that reminded Dobey of a quote by Alphonse De Lamartine he'd once read.

"'Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated'," Dobey said to himself. "I just hope their world lasts a long, long time."

~*~*~

Starsky sighed as he walked through the door of his apartment. He'd thanked Dobey for the work he and Edith had put into cleaning the place up, but he couldn't express how touched he was that the couple cared so much. That, and the fact they'd taken care of Nick's things, made coming home mean so much more than just returning to a physical place.

The apartment was spotless, and all traces of gas and the forensic team were long gone. He walked farther inside, giving Hutch room to get through the door with their suitcases. They'd already had words about who was going to carry them up, and he'd lost. He hated to wait for things to heal, but Hutch was right and he'd just have to take it easy for a while when it came to some physical action. Although he had plans for another kind of action.

"They did a great job," Hutch said as he dropped the suitcases near the bedroom entrance. "You can't even tell anything happened."

"Yeah, they're good people. We're lucky they care about us so much." Starsky sat tiredly on the couch. He looked around the clean apartment and realized that it felt like a stranger's house. "It's good to be home, but so much has happened, I guess I expected it to feel...different somehow. Maybe I'm the one who's different."

"We all are, aren't we?" Hutch, who had been rummaging around in the bedroom closet, came to him with a brightly wrapped package. "One of us had a birthday recently. We never did get around to celebrating it properly. Happy Birthday, Starsk."

Starsky took the package and smiled. "Thanks."

Hutch sat down next to him. "You don't have to open it now. It's not much, and it's kind of out of place right now, but I wanted you to know I hadn't forgotten."

"I'd forgotten." Starsky opened it carefully, feeling from the shape that it was a large picture frame. He was surprised to see a glossy photo of Sharman Crane. "Hey, I haven't seen this one yet. And it's autographed?" Looking closely, he could see various signatures off to the side of Sharman's.

"She signed it, along with all her modeling friends. You hang that up, and people will think you're a real stud," Hutch said with a laugh.

"Hey, you got Kate Larrabee to sign it, too? Aw, Hutch, this is great. I love it." He smiled and nudged Hutch. "But kinda ironic, considering the way my love life's gone lately. You sure you won't be jealous?"

"What's to be jealous of? I'm the one here with you." Hutch smiled sweetly. "And when I get you back into bed, I won't leave you with enough energy to even think about anyone else."

Starsky laughed. It felt good to do that again. "Sounds good to me."

"And just think. We've got two weeks to plan our lives, so let's just relax for a while and enjoy being home." Hutch stood and headed for the kitchen. "Dobey said we have groceries. Are you hungry?"

"I could use something to nibble on," Starsky admitted. He placed the picture carefully on the coffee table and walked up behind Hutch. He gently put his arms around him to pull him close. "But I'm not thinking about food."

Hutch chuckled, and Starsky could feel the sensation against his chest. If felt good. With the funeral and staying at his mother's house, they'd limited their physical contact to those long nights where they would sit on the living room couch and talk, holding hands once all the visitors had gone home and his mother had retired for the night. They had talked endlessly about what had happened, what they might have done wrong, what Nick did or didn't know, and who he thought he was running to when he ran out of the cabin. But it always came down to the fact that there would be things they would never know for sure.

It hurt that Nick hadn't trusted him with the truth, and to know that he'd somehow gotten himself neck deep in the kind of world Starsky had always fought against. The last conversation between them, when Nick had thrown insults at them and was clearly disgusted with what Starsky himself held dear, would always be a sore spot on his soul. It had helped that Hutch was with him and understood Starsky's pain. So they had talked about Nick until there was nothing more to say, and the holding of hands had been enough. But it wasn't enough now.

"Hey," Hutch said as he turned slowly in Starsky's arms and wrapped his arms around Starsky's shoulders. "Don't pull anything. I've been making some big plans for us, and I don't want you putting us behind schedule."

Hutch leaned in and they kissed. It was soft and sweet, and Starsky realized how much it meant to him to be able to express his feelings this way. Hutch's mouth opened, and Starsky found his way inside, a warmth filling him from head to toe. He lost track of time, knowing only the moments when they pulled apart for breath, then tenderly reconnected. Enjoying the gentle caress, it didn't take long before Starsky's cock started to fill with interest, and he rubbed it gently against Hutch's impressive package as he rubbed the roof of his mouth with the same rhythm.

When an unexpected twinge in Starsky's side made him grunt in spite of himself, Hutch pulled away and studied his face. Hutch's features were soft and relaxed, a slight reddish cast to his cheeks, and his eyes were dilated where they weren't the dark, smoky blue they took on when he was enjoying physical pleasures.

"You're flushed," Hutch said gently, a teasing smile on his face.

"Don't try to tell me it's a fever," Starsky said with amusement. "'Cause you've been takin' my temperature, so you know I don't have one."

"Well, you have to be tired. Wanna lie down for a nap?" Hutch's smile turned into a leer, making Starsky's heart start to race even faster.

"Man, I thought you'd never ask, or grope, or rub, or—"

"Starsky!" Hutch said with a laugh. "You're awful!"

"No, I'm actually quite good, as you're about to find out."

Hutch pulled away, and his smile was everything Starsky had hoped for. Hutch reached up and cupped his face, running his thumb across Starsky's cheek. "Well, I know you too well to think that you're going to behave yourself and rest those wounds. But we'll need to be careful. Just let me do all the work, okay?"

"Let me guess...you've been forming a plan," Starsky said, amused by Hutch's look of combined lust and determination on the subject.

"All the way home," Hutch admitted. He took Starsky's arm gently and steered him toward the bed, which looked fresh and inviting. With a quick movement, Hutch grabbed the cover and pulled it to the floor. "Sit, and shut up for a while."

Starsky did as he was told, but Hutch had said nothing about using his hands. Careful not to lift the arm on his wounded side too high, he reached up to rub Hutch's sides and thighs. Hutch leaned over to unbutton Starsky's shirt, lifting his arms just enough to pull them out of the sleeves, leaving Starsky bare-chested. Starsky paid more attention to the growing hardness at Hutch's crotch, learning the shape and feel of his cock and balls behind the fabric.

"Lie down on the bed."

Starsky moved back on the bed until he could stretch out on the sheets with his head on a pillow. It felt wonderful to have his upper body totally exposed to Hutch's view, and the way Hutch studied his chest as he worked on Starsky's zipper gave him goose bumps. Before, they'd had too much fabric between them, and Starsky's skin was burning to touch and be touched by Hutch.

With the zipper down, Hutch moved back off the bed and made quick work of removing Starsky's shoes and socks. Starsky braced himself for when Hutch took the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down and off his legs. Starsky's cock, finally free and out in the open, sprang to attention against his stomach.

"You're beautiful," Hutch said huskily, his eyes drinking in Starsky's body like good wine, and his hand reaching down to trail hot fingers from Starsky's ankle and up his calf to his knee. "Like a wild thing, made to drive me crazy."

"No fair!" Starsky moaned, fighting the urge to reach up and grab Hutch. "You gotta get naked, too."

Hutch smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it off slowly, revealing the golden body Starsky had always found so interesting to look at. Hutch was muscular in a sleek way, like something fast and deadly. When the pants came down, Starsky's eyes were drawn immediately to Hutch's cock, which now stood proudly upright. The scars he carried, as familiar to Starsky as his own, only added to the sense that Hutch was strong and dangerous. In the daylight, Hutch was colored all gold and pale rose, even to the glans of his cock and his large sac.

"Get over here, or I'll have to get up and get you," Starsky threatened, his whole body aching for Hutch.

Smiling evilly, Hutch walked to the closet and pulled out Starsky's extra pillows. "Wait until I get you ready." A minute later, Hutch was arranging the pillows, placing one under Starsky's knee on the side of his wounded hip, and another next to his hip. A third pillow was placed under his arm and next to his sore rib. A fourth pillow went under his other knee, leaving him wide open to anything Hutch wanted to do.

Hutch crawled on all fours between Starsky's legs and bent down to lap one long stroke from Starsky's ass, up the sensitive seam of his sac to the tip of Starsky's quivering cock.

"Oh! Hutch!" Starsky gasped as all the nerves in that area danced with excitement. His wounds ached a bit, but the well-placed pillows would keep him from aggravating them. He didn't want to mess things up, so he was going to have to behave himself, no matter how much he wanted to get up and devour his lover. "You're gonna drive me nuts!"

"You taste goood, lover." Hutch did it again, this time leaving a thick trail of saliva on him. Starsky could feel himself leaking pre-come, and moaned as he watched Hutch's tongue dip into the oily fluid and spread it around the tender slit in his glans. "Just think about all the ways we'll get to discover each other when you're better. I know it'll be worth waiting for."

Starsky, his heart beating frantically in both his chest and his cock, loved the attention, but he wanted Hutch more. He watched as Hutch reached down to pump himself from crown to base, the shine of pre-come making Hutch's cock look slick and thick.

Starsky ached to be the one to do that for him. "Come to me, Hutch. Let me do something for you."

"You are doing something for me," Hutch said teasingly. "Just lie still."

Hutch, still between Starsky's legs, moved over him, careful when placing his hands then elbows on either side of Starsky's torso. Hutch shifted his weight and leaned his hot, heavy body all along Starsky's. The contact was mind-blowing as their chests, stomachs, and cocks connected. Starsky's mind was filled with the physical sensation of silk, skin, heat, and the concentrated smell of Hutch's body's arousal.

Starsky leaned up enough to catch Hutch's bottom lip between his, and nipped carefully at it. Hutch moaned and thrust his hips, making their cocks rub together along their slick, hard lengths. Hutch started on Starsky's neck, drawing in what skin he could reach and sucking as if he were starving. As he did so, he leaned more weight on Starsky and started to hump him in earnest, trapping Starsky's arm close to his ribs so he couldn't move that arm if he wanted to, and keeping his weight off Starsky's bad hip. His other arm was free, and Starsky made use of his free hand to touch Hutch from head to ass, as much as he could.

Starsky was in ecstasy, his world containing only the taste and hot scent of Hutch's skin, the weight on him in sensitive places, and the sounds of Hutch's pleasure in his ears.

The sensations built until Starsky could hold it no longer, and with a shout that put his ribs at risk, he came in long, strong, nerve-wrenching waves in the small space between his body and Hutch's.

Not far behind him, Hutch thrust several more times, then froze as his come mixed with Starsky's in a slow spread across both their bodies. Hutch voiced his pleasure in a singsong exhale as his hips slowed to a gentle rubbing of their still-hard organs.

Sweaty, panting, and feeling like his body had been well worked, Starsky closed his eyes and relaxed. Hutch's weight, still carefully managing to avoid Starsky's sore spots, was delicious, and he never wanted either of them to move.

"Okay?" Hutch asked, sounding tired and content as his voice vibrated between them.

"Perfect," Starsky mumbled happily. "If this is taking it careful, I'm not sure I'll survive getting wild."

"Just think, we'll have a full two weeks to rest and make sure you get your exercise," Hutch said. He carefully pushed away and reached over the edge of the bed, first for his discarded underwear to wipe both of them off, then a second time to pull up the cover. He snuggled close to Starsky, who moved just enough for Hutch to pillow his head on Starsky's good shoulder.

Starsky relaxed and drifted, aware of the moment when Hutch slipped into sleep. He raised his hand to card gently through Hutch's hair. He didn't want to wake him, but Starsky enjoyed the freedom as well as the feel of it in his hand.

His thoughts strayed to Nick, as he knew they would for a long time to come. It hurt to think of him, but he knew in time, he would be able to remember the good times they had shared.

Life is so short, even if you live to a ripe old age. No matter how old we live to be, it'll never be enough time with Hutch. We have a few more things to talk about. Not about if this is right, or real, or lasting, but if it's worth us retiring from the streets, allowing us a chance to experience all those years.

I don't know what the answer is, but whatever we decide, we'll decide it together.

With a contented sigh, Starsky closed his eyes and drifted off, his mind on the blessing in his arms rather than the sadness of his loss.

In his sleep, Hutch smiled.

The End

Send feedback to Sarah Problem

This page has been viewed

times since 2005-11-30.

Surprise Me!