Title: Dance a Memory

Author: Susan Proto

Fandom: Starsky & Hutch, of course!

Rating: PG-13 for language

Status: New/Complete

Classification: angst, a smattering of h/c

Archive: Yes

Feedback: Absolutely! It's gratefully accepted at: STPteach@aol.com

Critique: Accolades, yes! <G> Constructive thoughts, yes! Flames, no!

Disclaimers: No, they still don't belong to me. Starsky & Hutch, as well as all other recognizable characters belong to Spelling/Goldberg productions.

Author's Note: The dates used reflect the episode air date from which canon background is referred to; if someone has more specific dates, I'd be happy to revise the text.

Summary: Starsky's back on the job, but no one ever said it was going to be easy.

Dance a Memory

February 12, 1980

Sundown

He struck the match and listened to the soft sizzle. Next, he lowered it into the plain, clear glass and touched it to the wick. Quickly, before the fire that licked at his fingers became painful, he picked up the match and blew it out. Finally, while mouthing ancient words he watched the flames dance a memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 13, 1980

7:35 a.m.

From his car, Hutch watched his partner lumber down the front steps of his home. The usual spry step was missing from Starsky's gait, but that wasn't a surprise. It had only been four weeks since Starsky was taken off the desk and cleared for active duty. For the last two of them, the partners had been putting in over a dozen hours a day on a difficult case. Neither man was at his peak; both were feeling the pressure of closing the case and were almost at their breaking point.

"You're late."

"Am not."

"Yes - you are. Look at your watch, dummy, or have you forgotten how to tell time?" There was no smile to soften the edge to Hutch's words.

"Five minutes, Hutch. You're gonna give me grief for five lousy minutes?"

"So you admit it; you're late."

"Fine, I'm late. Sue me." Starsky sat quietly, knowing it was the fatigue and not the time that had his partner so disgruntled. So Hutch's response to Starsky's next question shouldn't have surprised him.

"Coming over tonight to play some monopoly?"

"You're kidding, right?" Hutch didn't wait for a response but continued on a mini-rant. "All I want to do tonight is fall into bed and sleep. If I have the strength to grab a quick shower before hand, then maybe I'll do that, too. And if my stomach can handle it, I'll scramble some eggs, but my first and only priority is to get some sleep before tomorrow."

Starsky understood the emphasis Hutch put on the word 'tomorrow', as that was the day the results of all of their labors for the past couple of weeks were supposed to come to fruition.

So Starsky, who was every bit as exhausted, understood his partner's need for sleep and nodded in acceptance. Still, the response threw him for a loop, and the rest of the car ride to the station was a quiet one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked into the station house and immediately headed for the coffeepot. The pair nodded with nary a word their morning greetings to those present, but no one felt slighted or upset as they were all working on their last reserves.

The entire squad was analogous to its own special kind of oxymoron - on one hand the men and women were moving in an almost zombie like state, they were that exhausted. On the other hand, they were also akin to a dog in heat -the anticipation and the wait was driving them all crazy. Somehow they managed to be patient, knowing it was just one more day until the anticipated outcome.

The expectation was that, finally, the biggest drug lord this side of the Mississippi was going down. Three murders had occurred as a result of deals gone bad, including that of one police officer. That last bit had hit the precinct hard - the deceased officer had been admired by his colleagues and was making plans for a well-deserved retirement.

The insane hours they'd been putting in were as much a sign of respect for Officer Hank Thompson as it was to get the crème de la scum off the street. It was no secret, however, that everyone was looking forward to bringing the sonofabitch down, breathing a collective sigh of relief, and getting on with their lives.

Not the least of which were Starsky and Hutch and the officers in charge, two young men that Starsky and Hutch were in effect mentoring. At that moment, the seasoned pair observed Jeffrey Brodsky and Keith Kramer go into Dobey's office. Habit was tamped down, as the two veterans watched the new regime enter a domain that once seemed to be exclusively theirs. Though the guys knew that whatever information was discussed would be thoroughly shared with them all, it was still a challenge to step aside.

Not that the two men begrudged the younger team their due. Brodsky and Kramer were doing a helluva job on the case; they were working their asses off. They weren't afraid to take the initiative in setting the parameters of the investigation, nor were they hesitant in seeking help and advice when they were at a crossroads.

No, neither Starsky nor Hutch had any problem with how their two younger, less experienced colleagues were handling themselves or the case. Detectives had to learn sometime, and Starsky and Hutch were happy to turn the reigns over to them because they were confident that they wouldn't screw things up, at least not totally.

But they were learning the ropes, the streets, and establishing their own network of snitches, which was the one possible glitch in the process. The latest group of informants was unknown to Starsky or Hutch, which was why they maintained their own special hotline to their own personal man on the streets.

The partners understood that not being in charge had its pros and cons. The disadvantages were all too quickly recognized - less responsibility meant less control. Less control made it that much harder to watch your partner's back, which was something that had always been a top priority for both men.

But the advantage to playing second banana was hard to ignore - less pressure. Sure, they were putting in as much time as everyone else was at the precinct, but thus far, any final decisions were left to the new team to make.

Ever since Starsky had returned to active duty, both men knew that he wasn't at the hundred and ten percent level he'd been at prior to the Gunther shooting, and the chance of him ever getting to that level again was practically nil. So, when Dobey had informed them that Brodsky and Kramer were going to lead the team, neither man batted an eyelash. They were still an integral part of the team, but in the honorable role of wise and respected advisors.

Of course, in their squad room, there was no rest for the weary or for advisors. Not fifteen minutes went by before Dobey came storming out of his office with Brodsky and Kramer following.

"People, I need you to gather round, right now," Dobey called out urgently.

All members of the squad formed a semi-circle around their captain. The look on Dobey's face was difficult to read other than the fact that he was not pleased with what was apparently the latest development in the case.

Starsky couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Cap, what's going on?"

Dobey looked at the man and shook his head a bit; it would be Starsky who dove in to get at the crux of the matter. "Plans apparently have changed." He looked pointedly at Brodsky and nodded.

"I got the word this morning that things are going down ahead of schedule," elaborated Brodsky.

"Ahead of schedule?" Hutch's expression was like everyone else's - confused.

"Yeah, we got word that the deal is supposed to go down later this evening instead of tomorrow night," added Kramer.

"Who laid this on you?" asked Starsky.

"Our informant, Starsky, who else?" Brodsky replied, irritated.

"Yeah, but why?" Starsky began to pace. "Something don't seem right here, guys. You don't see that?" Next he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit that he never was able to break. "Brodsky - Jeff, who the hell is this informant of yours? Are you absolutely sure you can trust him?"

"Now look here, Starsky, don't start second-guessing me now!"

"I'm not - at least not you!" Starsky turned to Dobey. "But this informant, cap, I don't like this. Something ain't kosher here."

"Well, until we find out differently, the word is that the deal goes down at the old Fairlawn Cemetery at 7:00 this evening," informed Dobey. "So, do what ever the hell you need to do to get ready. Starsky, Hutchinson, in my office, now!" he barked.

The two men looked at one another with an expression that questioned what the hell they'd done to be singled out. They briefly locked eyes with Kramer and Brodsky, but even they looked a bit confused. Kramer even went so far as to shrug and then turned to his partner to begin discussing the day's plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you think?" asked Dobey outright.

"About what, cap?" asked Hutch.

"About the weather - what the hell do you think about?" retorted their boss. "Do you two buy into this sudden change of plans at all?"

Hutch shook his head to which Starsky immediately voiced an agreement. "Something don't shake down right here, cap. Thing is, I don't know who their informants are, so I don't know if we can trust 'em."

"Have they been wrong on anything?" asked Dobey.

"No, nothing major. Couple of small things that were easily rectified once we'd double-checked with our guy," answered Starsky. "Speaking of which, maybe we should give Huggy a call?" he said, looking at his partner for confirmation.

"Yeah, I'm on it," replied Hutch and left for his desk to make the call, while Starsky remained in the captain's office, trying to make some sense out of the current change in plans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You got the Bear."

"Huggy, it's Hutch."

"I recognize the voice, my friend. Surprised it took you this long to make the call, though."

"What do you mean?"

"The word is all over the street, my man, that the biggest drug deal of the century is going down this evening."

"So quickly?" asked Hutch in disbelief.

"Yeah, the news spread like a wild fire in ol' Smokey's forest. I'm telling you, it hit the street real early this a.m. and it hasn't stopped traveling since."

"What do you think, Huggy? Reliable?"

"To tell you the truth, my blond brother, I do not know what to think, 'cept maybe something don't seem right about it. I don't know - makes me think an old fashioned game of 'telephone' would be more dependable."

"I hear you, Hug. Starsky and I had the same reaction."

"Yo, speaking of the 'brother', how's he doing today?"

"How's he doing?" The confusion was evident in Hutch's voice.

"Yeah, how's he doing? Today must be a little rough, no?"

"Hey, Huggy, it's rough on everyone. This case has had us going around in circles for the last two weeks -"

"- Hutchinson, get in here, now!" bellowed Dobey.

"Coming, cap. Sorry, Huggy, I gotta go. Listen, if you hear anything - anything that you think is out of whack, call us, okay? This damn thing seems like a runaway train and I'm just the ticket collector."

"I hear ya. Will do. Listen, tell Starsky I'm thinking of him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Hutch heard the click and stared at the phone for a moment before replacing it on the cradle and going backing into the captain's office.

"Well? What did Huggy have to say?" asked the captain.

"Said it's all over the streets."

"Oh, well then the information is good," Dobey replied hopefully.

"Not necessarily, cap," answered Hutch.

Starsky shook his head and explained, "Cap, it sounds almost like they wanted the information to get out. I can't help but wonder if this is a setup."

"A setup? You think the informant is passing bad information?" asked Dobey.

"I think it's a real possibility. I mean we don't know who these snitches are," confirmed Hutch.

"Well, do we go with the information?" asked Dobey.

"As if we have a choice?" asked Starsky rhetorically.

Both Dobey and Hutchinson nodded in understanding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 13, 1980

5:27 p.m.

The last several hours saw every man and woman in the squad tracking down information to either confirm or deny that the deal was going through at seven that evening. Equipment needed to be checked out thoroughly and issued to each and every member of the on-site team.

Starsky and Hutch were in constant contact with Huggy Bear, who was unable to give them any further insight as to exactly why the deal was moved up a full day, nor who was responsible for spreading the news so rapidly.

Once it was determined without a doubt that the team was going to get into position at the cemetery, everyone began trying on his or her assigned bulletproof vests. Hutch watched his partner like a hawk as Starsky buckled and snapped everything in place. Hutch would have liked nothing more than to double-check every snap, every zipper, and every fastener on his partner's vest. However, Hutch also knew that if he'd made even the slightest move toward that objective, he would have been sorely in immediate need of his own bulletproof vest.

They all did another check of the main, squad room map that hung on the bulletin board, which focused on that particular case. Everyone confirmed the positions they would assume once they were at the cemetery. Each team of two was issued a walkie-talkie and departed for the twenty-minute ride to the burial grounds. Hutch grabbed his and Starsky's.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two drove over in the LTD, consumed with their own thoughts. Hutch was reviewing the code words and trying to bring to mind any and all possible scenarios that could screw the plan up and send it all to hell in a handbasket.

He parked and opened his door at the same time Starsky opened the passenger door. Hutch slammed the door shut when it suddenly occurred to him that he'd never delivered Huggy's message.

"Huggy told me to tell you he was thinking of you today."

"Yeah?" Starsky smiled. "That was nice of him."

"Um, yeah, yeah I guess it was." Hutch shook his head and remained as confused with Starsky's lack of any real explanation for the remark as he was with Huggy's cryptic message. Of course, all Hutch had to do was make a careful observation of Starsky's reaction to entering the cemetery to put two and two together.

But, like every other member of the team, Hutch was focused on his assigned role and what he needed to do to make sure that everything turned out the way they planned: one major drug kingpin taken into custody - one dozen police officers alive and well.

So, when Starsky took his first steps onto the grounds of the old Fairlawn Cemetery, the only living creatures to notice Starsky's shudder of grief were the pair of squirrels that played hide and seek in the nearby trees.

As suddenly as the momentary lapse occurred, though that's how quickly Starsky recovered his focus. This was his first major action since returning to active duty; there was no way he was going to screw this up. He quickly followed his partner to their assigned places, each behind two large mausoleum structures - Starsky's being slightly behind and to the right of Hutch's.

Obviously the Wellington family was quite the important clan in their time. Their final resting-places appeared to be as large as Starsky's living room. Both men stood at the ready and waited for the first sign of life. The sun had set over an hour ago, so the team members were cloaked in darkness.

Brodsky's voice came over the walkie-talkie as quietly as he could make it. "Car's arriving. White limo - damn!" he exclaimed with almost childlike awe, "It's a stretch!"

Starsky's breath caught, but not from being awestruck; he simply didn't like what he saw one damn bit.

"Second car arriving," crackled Kramer's voice over the walkie-talkie. "Black caddy. Okay, men, the doors are opening, so be alert." Kramer worked hard to keep the anxiety out of his voice, and for the most part he succeeded. Except with Hutch - he could tell the poor kid was going to shit in his pants if this thing didn't go down soon. Even Hutch himself was getting antsy.

Suddenly, all of the doors to both vehicles opened. From every possible opening, gun barrels - at least a dozen - pointed in their directions. "SHIT! We've been made!" shouted Brodsky into the transmitter. "DOWN! DOWN!"

Since he had the walkie-talkie in his hand, Hutch heard the call before Starsky. Stupidly, he reacted in the only way he knew how and that was to protect his partner, even at the expense of himself. Having heard the call to get down, Hutch became desperate to do just that and to make sure his partner did the same.

"Hutch, no!" Starsky cried out, because he was reacting in the exact same manner as his blond half. Protect the partner, at any cost.

Starsky stood up, just as the shots began ringing out. 'Too slow, too damn slow,' he thought to himself as he did what he could to reach Hutch before any harm came to him. The shots were coming at them rapid-fire. 'Semi-automatic,' thought Starsky. 'God damned machine guns! They're trying to pick us off like ducks at a shooting gallery!

When Starsky made a final leap ahead to where Hutch was standing, Hutch was knocked down hard. The force of the hit caused Hutch to fall back hard against the stone mausoleum in full view of their machine gun toting visitors. Starsky grabbed the unconscious man and dragged him behind the tall, protective cover of marble and held him firmly.

"Hutch? Hutch, you okay? Oh, sweet God, you're bleeding. Shit, shit, shit! You've been hit, Hutch! Oh God, you've been hit!" Starsky was overcome with concern when he realized that Hutch had actually been winged.

"C'mon, babe, talk to me. Tell me you're all right," Starsky pleaded while he tried to keep the bleeding at bay. He pulled out his handkerchief and pressed the folded compress down onto Hutch's forehead.

The blood showed no signs of abating any more than the gunfire. All Starsky could do was sit tight, hold onto his partner, and pray that nothing would happen to Hutch on that day.

"Not today, Hutch. Please, you gotta be okay. Not today," he murmured over and over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was over before any real carnage took place. More back up arrived and blocked all of the exits to the cemetery. The 'good guys' had the upper hand in the weapons department, and after a few warning shots they pointed them directly at their targets. Eventually the shooters were gathered up and taken in by something far less elegant than a stretch limo, a paddy wagon.

"Damn idiot informant!" cried out Brodsky. It had become apparent during the round up that Brodsky and Kramer's mysterious snitch was the reason behind the day's fiasco. As much as Brodsky hated to, he knew he'd have to give his co-workers an opportunity to say 'I told you so'...

"Where are they?" asked Brodsky, and at Kramer's look of confusion, he added, "Starsky and Hutchinson."

"They were covering the 'Alpha' and 'Beta' markers, weren't they?" answered Kramer.

Brodsky nodded and called out for his colleagues. When there was no immediate response, he nodded over to Kramer and in unspoken agreement, the two men moved toward their mentors' positions.

Moments later, they found themselves kneeling next to Starsky who clutched desperately at the handkerchief in an effort to stem the bleeding from Hutch's forehead. "Starsky? C'mon man, he's gonna be fine; you'll see, he'll be A-OK," consoled Kramer.

Meanwhile, Brodsky made the call and alerted HQ an officer was down and the need for an ambulance. Starsky held on, seemingly for dear life, all the while murmuring, "Not today. Please, God, not today."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How's the blond brother?" asked Huggy, who arrived a short time later, only to add, "And I think you'd better get yourself checked out, Curly. In the vernacular of your people, Starsky, you look like dreck."

"I do, huh? Well, I probably look a helluva lot better than I feel." Starsky slumped down into the hard plastic chair. "I'm getting too old for this, Huggy; I don't think I can go through this anymore."

"C'mon, bro, he'll be fine. You know Hutch, he's like a Bengal tiger with nine lives."

Starsky sighed. "Don't think he has too many of them left." He moved to stand up, but was overcome by dizziness. "Damn."

"Starsky, just stay put, okay?" implored the bear. All he could do was nod in agreement.

"Detective?" Starsky and Huggy looked over toward the entrance to the waiting area to see a short, balding man - obviously a doctor. "I'm Dr. Alden. I was told that I'm treating your partner?"

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Starsky, who only wanted the doctor to cut to the chase. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, Detective, he's fine."

"But his head? There was so much blood..."

"Detective, the scalp has a great many blood vessels, so it's highly prone to excessive bleeding, even for a mere graze to the forehead," Dr. Alden assured.

"But he hit his head pretty hard, too."

"Yes, he did, and he's paying the price of that little deed with a mild concussion. We're going to keep him overnight, but, honestly, detective, he's going to be just fine."

Once the doctor finished giving his diagnosis and prognosis, he took a moment to look at Starsky more carefully. "Detective, were you hurt?"

At that moment, the distinctive sounds of Captain Dobey's footsteps were heard. "You were hurt, too?" he asked with concerned.

Starsky shook his head and said, "No, cap, just drained, you know?"

Both captain and doctor nodded in understanding, though the cap's reasoning was due to his all too thorough knowledge of Starsky's recent medical history.

"I certainly don't envy you," said Dr. Alden.

"When can I see him?" Starsky replied, pointed ignoring the doctor's comment. He wasn't terribly sure if he disagreed with the sentiment.

"He's resting while we wait for a bed to open up upstairs. Go home and get cleaned up. By the time you return he'll probably be awake. Go home."

"What?" Starsky was incredulous. Who the hell was this guy to tell him he couldn't see his partner?

"Detective," Dr. Alden began as if reading Starsky's thoughts, "you go in looking like you do and he's going to climb out of the bed and shove you into it." Though Starsky shook his head 'no', the doctor continued, "Go home, shower, and change your clothes. Pick up a toothbrush, some toothpaste, and a clean set of clothes for him, and then return. Right now, he's resting as best he can. You'll see him later; I'll make sure you have access even after visiting hours. I promise."

"I don't want to leave."

"Starsky, the doctor knows what he's talking about," cajoled Dobey. "You look like you're about to fall down, son. Come on; let me give you a lift home so you can recoup. You still need to watch out for yourself, too, you know."

"I don't want to leave him alone; if he wakes up - "

" - Then I'll be here to baby-sit him," interjected Huggy. "I'll stay with the blond brother till you get back, how's that?"

"Can I just see him? For a second?" Starsky hated it when his voice got thin and whiny, but this time he couldn't help it.

"For a second, and I don't want you waking him up. We're going to be poking and prodding him enough times tonight; poor guy needs as much sleep as he can get," warned the doctor.

Starsky nodded quickly in agreement and was led to the treatment room he'd been brought to. He looked in from the door and saw that his friend was indeed out like a light. Other than the bandage that covered the stitches from the head graze, there was no myriad of medical tubes and machines attached. Starsky was grateful for that.

"Okay, Detective?" asked Dobey.

"Yeah," Starsky replied, but it wasn't with a whole lot of conviction. "C'mon, get me outta here so I can get back already."

"Starsk, you be good, you hear?" Huggy admonished.

"Yeah, yeah...comin', captain?" asked Starsky through slightly clenched teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 13, 1980

8:54 p.m.

As the captain exited his vehicle along with Starsky, the younger man couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Cap, what the hell are you doing?" The irritation was evident in his voice, and though he should have been concerned with his insubordinate tone, he wasn't.

"Walking you upstairs, Starsky. You look like crap."

"I'm fine, cap."

"Like hell you are."

Starsky knew when to cut his losses and didn't say anything more on the subject. He slowly trudged up the stairs and opened the front door to the building. Soon he stepped inside his apartment, again with the captain lurking behind.

"Do you want something to eat?" asked Starsky, hoping to deflect Dobey's attention from himself.

"Something to drink would be good, but I can manage that. Why don't you go in and get cleaned up?"

"Okay, cap. I got some juice in the fridge - expiration date should be still okay - or there's some coke, I think."

"Water will do me fine, just need a couple of ice cubes."

"Water?" Starsky looked surprised for a moment, and then understanding dawned. "Edith has you on another diet, doesn't she?"

"Yes, Starsky," he replied tersely. "Go shower."

Starsky allowed a hint of a smile to appear for the first time all day. He headed off towards the bathroom, while Dobey walked into the kitchen.

"Starsky? You know you got a candle burning in here? This can't be safe," called out Dobey.

Starsky returned quickly to the kitchen just as Dobey was about to blow out the candle.

"Cap, no," he said quietly, but firmly. "Leave it; it's okay. It'll burn itself out by morning."

"But you shouldn't leave a candle burning; it could start a fire."

"Cap, trust me - it's fine. See? It's all self-contained. Listen, you really don't need to hang around. I'm gonna shower and change, and then I'll drive myself back to the hospital," Starsky explained.

"It's okay; I don't mind."

"Don't you have to check in with Brodsky and Kramer back at the station?"

"You had to remind me?" Dobey sighed. "Well, if you're sure you'll be okay."

"I'm fine. Hutch is fine, so I'm fine." Starsky smiled. "I appreciate it, cap, but really, you can go."

Dobey realized his detective was asking him, in his slightly less than cryptic manner, to get out and give him some time alone. "Okay, son. If you need me, you just pick up the phone, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, cap." Starsky turned and went into the bathroom.

Dobey left for the station.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang by Hutch's bedside, and Huggy quickly reached for it before it awakened the sleeping patient.

"He's fine, Starsky," the man said, so sure that it was the dark-haired half of the team calling in for an update.

"It's not Starsky."

"Oh, captain; I just assumed it would be Starsky." There was no apology in Huggy's voice, and given Dobey's response, he wasn't expecting any.

"I just left him; he insisted on driving himself over after he changed." The captain paused a moment and then said, "Huggy, I'm worried about David. He seems a little off his feed, too - see if you can get the doc to check him out."

"Hey, he's only been back in action for a few weeks; today was rough."

"Yeah, I still wonder if it was too soon to put him on this case."

"You had to let him test the waters sooner or later."

"I know, I'm just wondering if it should have been later."

"He'll be all right, captain. You'll see," Huggy assured.

"I hope so...damnedest thing..."

"What was that?"

"At Starsky's - damnedest thing - he had this little glass with a candle in it, and he insisted on keeping it lit. Makes me nervous as hell that his place is going to go up in flames."

"Don't worry 'bout it, cap. That's a yartzheit candle."

"A 'what' candle?" asked Dobey in complete bewilderment.

"Yartzheit - a memorial candle - Jews light them on the anniversary of a loved one's death," Huggy informed.

"How the hell did you know that?"

"Hey, capitano, I've known Starsky for a helluva long time...he told me about it years ago when I'd seen him light one for his dad."

"Oh, so his dad passed away on this date?"

"No, captain, it wasn't his dad this time. It was -"

"-Terry." The voice was raspy but it was trembling with emotion. "Sweet Jesus," said Hutch, "I forgot about Terry. Oh, God, that's why..."

"Cap, I got to hang up so I can deal with a certain blond that's about to take one bumpy guilt trip down memory lane. I'll check in with you. Later." Huggy dismissed the captain and hung up.

"Hutch, don't do this to yourself."

"He asked me to come over and play monopoly tonight. We've gotten together and played it on every anniversary of her death and her birthday. How could I have forgotten this year? Especially this year, Hug! Damn, all I did was berate him about how much I thought of his lousy idea and that I wasn't going anywhere except home to get some sleep. What the hell was I thinking?" Hutch closed his eyes upset with his own perceived notions of failure.

"Hutch, my man. You don't think Starsky understood? You boys been working like dogs these last couple of weeks. Sure, he wanted you to come over, but if he didn't think it was more important for you to get some rest, then he would have said something. Starsky ain't exactly one to hold back if it really means something to him, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," Hutch replied. "Where is he anyway?"

"Dobey took him home to get cleaned up. He looked like he'd just been in a shoot out, if you get my drift."

"How is he?" asked Hutch with some anxiety.

"Shook up, but once the doc convinced him you were really okay, he went with Dobey without too much of a fight."

"He coming back tonight?" asked Hutch, needing to hear the answer.

"You're kidding, right? As if anyone could keep curly away?"

"Hug, do me a favor?" Huggy cocked his head to one side as if to say 'when have I ever refused you?' "Check in pediatrics and see if they - "

"- Say no more, the Hugster is here at your disposal. I'll check it out immediately."

"You're the best, Huggy."

"Of course I am, and I will keep reminding you of that fact every chance I get." The tall, thin presence gave Hutch one of his patented grins and left to follow through on his friend's request.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 13, 1980

10:34 p.m.

Starsky quietly poked his head in through the doorway. When he saw his partner sleeping quietly he debated for a moment if he should detour to the waiting room. He wanted to avoid waking Hutch up. Just as he was about to reverse his steps, Starsky heard his name softly croaked out and then, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't...just resting my eyes."

"Yeah, right. You always snore when resting your eyes," he said with a chuckle, delighted that his friend was up and talking with him.

"I don't snore." The words said denial, but the smile was definitely a sign of concession.

"Yeah, well, my ears ain't in bad shape; everything else is a little worn and torn, but the hearing is fine." Starsky smiled, but then his tone turned serious. "How you feeling, Hutch? I gotta admit, you had me a little worried there earlier."

"I'm fine, Starsk. I'm sorry you were worried."

"Yeah, well, it's my job. To worry, I mean. I guess it's genetic," Starsky said.

"Maybe it is." Hutch paused and then said, thoughtfully, "It wasn't fun out there today for you, was it, Starsk?"

"Fun? I'm not sure what you mean...you were shot, Hutch. Of course it wasn't fun...."

But that was not what Hutch had meant, and both men were well aware that Starsky knew that.

"Starsk - "

"- No. It wasn't fun today. It was hard getting my head back into the scene, and trying not to be worried about things getting screwed up. I guess I had some other things on my mind, too."

Hutch looked at his partner of almost ten years and couldn't decide if it had felt like it was just yesterday that they'd been teamed up, or rather if it felt like it had been forever since they'd become partners.

"I know, Starsk, and I'm sorry for that, too."

"You ain't got nothing to apologize for, Blintz." Starsky understood immediately what Hutch was apologizing for. "It's my baggage to carry; you don't have to help me carry it no more, partner."

"But that's just it, we're more than just partners, Starsk. We're friends, best friends, and friends help one another carry the load. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today, babe. I had a lot on my mind, too, but that's no excuse." Hutch smiled and knew that Starsky would choose to end the discussion there. There were no losers in their relationship.

However there was another aspect of their lives that there was most definitely a loser.

"Now that we've gotten that straightened out," began Hutch as he sat up a little straighter, "let's see what you got, Starsky."

Starsky watched as his partner pulled out from under his blanket a long flat box. As Hutch raised it up for Starsky's approval, he was greeted with the most relaxed smile he'd seen in weeks.

"What poor kid in pediatrics did you rip this off of?" Starsky asked as he took the box and placed it on the hospital bed table.

"Wasn't me -" retorted Hutch.

"Oh, great! Some poor kid is permanently traumatized because you sent Huggy Bear to retrieve a board game?"

"Yup. So, you gonna gab or you gonna play?" teased Hutch.

"I brought someone to supervise," Starsky said softly. He picked up the shopping bag he'd carried in and pulled out some necessities first. First he took out some men's toiletry products, then a set of clean clothes, and finally,...Ollie.

"I figured he needed to be here with us, tonight."

"Yeah. Good idea, Ollie." Hutch felt the tears sting at his eyes but managed to hold them in check. "So, I'm going to choose the hat this game. What are you gonna be, as if I didn't know."

"Only the best piece in the whole damn game." And the two men simultaneously announced, "The CAR."

"Jeeze, you'd think by now you'd figure out that the car brings you absolutely no luck! You never win, Starsk," Hutch goaded affectionately.

"That's where you're wrong, partner. Every time we get to play, I win." Starsky took a quick peek at Ollie and then said, "Thanks for watching over both of us after all this time."

Hutch nodded; there was nothing more to say.

So, he rolled the dice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The End