Title: Denial

Author: Susan Proto

Fandom: Starsky & Hutch, of course!

Rating: PG-13 for language

Status: New/Complete

Classification: StarskyAngst with a dash of Hutch&DobeyAngst thrown in....

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.

Summary: "You don't remember, Davey?" When Starsky lightly shook his head, the doctor knew the younger man wasn't being completely honest with him, but understood the reason for that denial would come soon enough."

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

The pounding of the door was what finally roused him. Starsky's eyes opened, slowly, groggily, and it took him some time to get his bearings. He turned his head to the right, blinked, and then turned to the left and did the same. The cobwebs refused to be shaken.

"DAMN IT STARSKY! WAKE UP!"

Starsky heard the muffled, but explosive demand, but it took him a moment or two to understand what was said and who was saying it. When understanding finally hit, he groaned and knew he was more than likely in deep shit.

It was only when he moved to rise from the bed did he realize he wasn't in the bed at all but on the floor. "What the hell?" he muttered aloud to himself, but decided he didn't have time for an answer as his partner pounded on the door again.

"STARSKY, I SWEAR IF WE'RE LATE FOR THIS DAMN MEETING..."

The opening of the door cut off Hutch's tirade.

"Why didn't you use your key?" Starsky asked in a tone, which was in direct contrast to his partner's.

"Don't you think if I had it with me I would have?" At the quizzical expression on his partner's face, Hutch clarified, "I left it at home." Hutch glared at him. He was obviously ticked off with Starsky and neither man was sure as to the exact reason, though there were many to choose from this week.

"You know," began Hutch, obviously attempting to calm himself, "if you came back to work too soon, then I wish you'd just admit it."

"Hutch, I had a concussion. I'm always getting concussions. I rested up for a week, I felt okay, the doc cleared me, and I'm sorry I overslept. I didn't do it on purpose."

"You knew we had to be in Dobey's office at eight o'clock sharp. We have exactly twenty-five minutes to get there, and you don't look exactly ready."

"Give me five minutes to throw on some clothes." Starsky started to head toward his bedroom when he heard his partner call out to him.

"You better take an extra five to shower; you positively reek, Starsky."

"Yeah, I guess I am a little ripe. Okay. I'll make it quick."

Starsky went into the bathroom and began to strip. He pulled off his white tee shirt and then pulled down the navy blue, cotton pajama bottoms. 'What the hell?' he wondered. The pants, though dry, were obviously stained. "What did I spill all over myself?" He shook his head, threw them into the hamper, and stepped in for an all-too-quick shower.

Hutch, meanwhile, paced back and forth in the living room. He was pissed off with his partner, but he couldn't pin down why. Was it because he thought Starsky came back to work too soon from the injury? The man just hadn't been totally on his game the last couple of weeks, and Hutch was feeling the ramifications of that.

The fact that Hutch still felt guilty at not being in the right place at the right time to back up his partner didn't help. It was the habit of both men to be consumed with guilt when one failed to back up the other. Hutch was around the front of a building covering the two perpetrators that they knew were inside, while Starsky was covering the back. Neither man expected a third perp, one that seemingly had appeared out of nowhere, to slam into Starsky from the second floor window in order to make his escape.

The would-be escapee had failed in that attempt by fracturing his ankle in the fall, but he'd also caused Starsky to fall down hard on the back of his head inducing one helluva moderate concussion. The man was out cold for almost an hour, and if he hadn't woken up when he did, the doctors were ready to order a whole battery of new tests. It took a couple of weeks, but the docs had finally cleared him for duty. Hutch couldn't help wonder if it were too soon.

Or maybe he was worried about the upcoming case. Hutch was never thrilled with undercover operations that didn't directly include his partner; maybe he was just feeling skittish about going under alone?

Maybe it was all of the above?

Starsky appeared dressed in his finest worn-out denim jeans and blue plaid shirt. He was vigorously towel drying his moppet of dark curls. "Time check?" he asked in shorthand.

"We've got fifteen minutes before we start hearing Dobey's voice screaming from across town."

"Guess there's no time to stop for coffee?"

"No." Hutch was getting annoyed again. Didn't Starsky see the frustration, but more importantly, the concern Hutch wore on his face?

"Didn't think so. Let's roll."

They drive to Metro took a little over twenty minutes, and by the time they parked, the pair were a little over fifteen minutes late. They could hear Dobey's bellowing even before they stepped into the bullpen. The two headed directly for the captain's office.

"Blame him," Hutch said tonelessly as he pointed to his still damp-haired partner.

"Sorry. No excuses; I overslept."

"You know, if you two don't think you can handle the responsibility of this case, then I'll find someone who can!" Dobey admonished, but everyone in the room knew he was just blowing smoke. The captain held these two in the highest esteem; if anyone were going to crack a tough case, it would be Starsky and Hutch.

"I'm sorry, Cap. It won't happen again," Starsky said sincerely.

"See that it doesn't." Dobey stared down hard at the dark-haired member of the team; he wasn't sure if he liked what he saw. There was something about Starsky that wasn't quite right, though he chalked it up to the nasty concussion he'd been on the receiving end of a few weeks ago.

"Okay. Agents Curtiss and Mitchell are here to review our plans. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them. No matter how dumb you may think it is, ask. We don't want anyone playing hero here, you understand?"

Everyone nodded.

"Okay, thanks, Captain," began John Curtiss. "The plan is for Hutchinson to go in as a crooked cop. They know you, so to pretend that you're someone else would be self-defeating. You're going to play it as if you're tired of the lack of respect, you're tired the low pay for the long hours, and you've decided it's time to take a little more for yourself.

"The story will be that your partner knows nothing about this. Hutchinson, you are to, supposedly, keep this all to yourself. You will assure the Kingston Group that any contact that you make with them will be held in the strictest confidence. You're too greedy to want to share it with your self-righteous partner; in fact you're going to make sure that the whole world knows that your partner is on the up and up.

"You're going to have a very public falling out. We're going to make sure there are more snitches present in The Anchor Bar than mice at a cheese convention. Everyone will be more than willing to let the members of the Kingston group know about Starsky and Hutch's disagreement.

"Now, we need to make sure that you, Hutchinson, have access to the jewelry these guys like to deal in. Captain, is there any problem with getting him access to the evidence room?"

"No, John. Everything will be set up; only Sgt. Evanston down in Evidence will be aware of Hutch's involvement. This way we can better control who knows about his cover."

"Sounds like a plan. Any questions so far?" asked Agent Curtiss.

"Um, yeah," stammered Starsky. "How do we let the Kingston Group know Hutch is ready to play?"

The four men in the room looked at Starsky as if he had two heads.

The agents, but particularly Agent Mitchell, were concerned about who this guy was that the captain had set them up with. They'd been looking to put an end to the Kingston Group's jewelry ring for almost eight months, and they felt they were close. But they needed the cooperation of the local PD to get them inside; if this idiot was the best that the captain could come up with, Mitchell feared that the prior eight months of preparation were all for naught.

Dobey looked as if he were going to implode. He held his breath and though his lips moved, no sounds came forth. He couldn't find his voice; it was bad enough the fool was late to the meeting, but to flagrantly ignore the review of an official police operation was too much. His partner was going undercover for crying out loud! Didn't Starsky realize how important it was for him to attend to every single detail? What the hell was the matter with that boy?

Hutch turned red with embarrassment for his partner and for their partnership; there was no doubt that when one of them screwed up, they both took the blame. Hutch felt somehow responsible for Starsky's failure to pay attention to everything that was just said.

Starsky, on the hand, simply looked confused. He'd asked a simple question. Dobey had said to ask any question, no matter how dumb it seemed, and this one wasn't even a stupid question. It was too important to leave out, and here they were looking at him as if he were a total incompetent. Starsky didn't understand. What the hell was going on?

"What the hell is your problem?" he asked indignantly. "That's my partner over there," he declared. "I don't want nothing to happen to him, yet you guys are acting like I'd just asked the most ridiculous question in the world! Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure every detail of my partner's role in this is covered, even if you don’t!"

"Why you arrogant asshole!" exclaimed Agent Curtiss.

"John, don't..." intervened Agent Mitchell, who up to that point had remained quietly observant. "Captain, maybe we need to clarify some things. May we speak with you?" Then he pointedly looked at the pair of detectives and added, "In private?"

Dobey looked first at Starsky who sat with his mouth opened; it was obvious the boy had no idea of the problem he'd just caused. Next, he looked over at Hutch, who continued to look frustrated and embarrassed for himself and his partner.

"Yeah. You two give me some time to straighten things out here with these guys, and you two do the same thing. Hutch, get your partner clued in, okay?"

As much as Hutch wanted to defend Starsky, he couldn't. He was as in the dark as Dobey as to why his partner was behaving like a mere rookie. Hutch nodded, and though Starsky looked as though he wanted to argue the point, he allowed Hutch to lead him by the elbow out to the bullpen.

"Hutch?"

"Not here." Hutch turned and walked out the door, never turning to see if Starsky was following him. He just assumed that he would, and of course he was right. Starsky walked into the men's room seconds after Hutch. Hutch locked the door and turned to look at his partner.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I'm nervous enough about my role in this thing, and then you get up on your holier than thou pedestal. Are you intentionally trying to sabotage this assignment?" Hutch's even tone belied the fury underneath.

"Hutch! That's ridiculous and you know it. And I know going undercover independently has never been one of your favorite pastimes, which is why I asked a question about a very important point. And did I get an answer? No, all I got were looks of condemnation and I'll be damned if I know why! It was something that needed to be discussed!"

"No shit, Sherlock - and it already was, five minutes before. You were too full of yourself that you couldn't stay with the discussion long enough to hear all the details? Starsk, do you have any idea of how foolish you looked and in turn made me and the cap look, as well?"

"What are you talking about? When did you discuss the chance for the Group to know you were willing to deal?"

"Starsky, what the hell's going on with you? Not five minutes before you asked your -important- question, we'd talked about me having a fight with you at the Anchor Bar and Grill. You were gonna act all high and mighty as to not wanting to take advantage of any and all opportunities for bettering your life." Hutch was pissed. The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he was with his partner.

"And then, Mr. High and Mighty," he continued, "you go and basically accuse us all of being negligent because you didn't hear us discuss the details to that very situation. Well, thanks a lot partner." He stopped to see if there were any sign of recognition on Starsky's part.

Apparently, there was none. Starsky didn't recall any part of that discussion.

It pissed off Hutch.

It scared the hell out of Starsky.

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

Meanwhile, the three men sat and quietly, though adamantly, discussed the pros and cons of finding two other undercover detectives.

"Look, gentlemen," Dobey began in an attempt to salvage the situation, "I have to be straight with you. Starsky's behavior was...well, it was questionable. But I'm telling you, he and Hutchinson are my two most dedicated and proven detectives."

"Look, Captain Dobey," said Robert Mitchell, "I understand you feel a loyalty to this pair. That's very noble, but I have to tell you, from what I've observed I do have some very real concerns."

"Concerns? Like what?" asked Dobey.

"Well, when we have these planning meetings, I usually take on the roll of observer. I find it helps to really understand what kind of people we're dealing with."

John Curtiss affirmed this with a nod. "I can't tell you how many times Bob's picked up on something that may have adversely affected a case," confirmed Curtiss. "Listen to him, Captain. If Bob says something's amiss, then it's best to hear about it now before we send Hutchinson in."

Dobey gave a slight nod of his head. "Go on, Mitchell."

"I was watching your two men. Hutchinson seemed eager, but cautious. I suspect that though he's experienced in undercover work, he's not all that crazy about it. Doesn't mean he's not ready to accept the challenge, he's just not necessarily thrilled about it."

Dobey couldn't help but concur with Mitchell's assessment.

"Now, this partner of his, Starsky," Mitchell continued as he practically spat the officer in question's name out, "he's a horse of a different color, isn't he?" Once again, Dobey found himself assenting to the agent's impression.

"Yeah, this one would normally be the first in the hunt, and probably is a little ticked off that it's Hutchinson going under and not him. Though I can't quite tell if it's out of concern for his partner or because he wants the glory."

Practically sputtering, Dobey quickly interjected, "I can assure you it's out of concern for his partner, Agent Mitchell," to which John readily agreed.

"Hey, Bob, I've got to agree with the captain here. I've worked with this pair before; there are no two tighter than these two. It ain't for the glory."

"Okay," Mitchell acquiesced, "I kind of figured it was that, but you all have to admit, gentlemen, Starsky's little grandstanding sure didn't help to confirm that opinion."

Dobey, as uncomfortable as it made him feel, nodded his understanding. The captain looked at Mitchell and deduced that there was more the agent wanted to say. "What else, Mitchell?"

Bob Mitchell sighed; he never liked bringing up touchy matters, and particularly not about people he'd never worked directly with. But if there were any doubt, it had to be brought to light.

"How well do you know Starsky, Captain?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you every have any dealings with him after hours? Are you aware of his activities when he's not on duty?" asked Mitchell cryptically.

"If you're asking are we buddy-buddy, no, Mitchell, we're not. I'm his superior officer and we both know it. If you're asking me if I'm aware of any shady activities that Starsky may be involved in, the answer this time is emphatically, NO, there is not."

"How do you know, Captain?" Mitchell asked gently.

"Because I've had enough dealings with these two throughout a dozen or more crises and I know the man wouldn't do anything illegal if his life depended upon it."

'Of course, if it were his partner's life, that's another story,' thought Dobey, as he remembered how Starsky took it upon himself to help Hutch kick that damned heroin addiction.

"Why are you asking me this?" Dobey finally asked.

"I was watching him. Captain, there were times the man was completely out of it. That's why the guy didn't know what we were talking about. He was totally spaced out."

"Wait a minute! Are you insinuating that Starsky's doing drugs?" asked an exasperated Dobey.

"What other explanation is there?" asked Mitchell.

"Hey," Curtiss jumped in attempting to placate his colleagues, "remember, we had to postpone this operation for a couple of weeks because Starsky was injured. Is it possible he's on pain meds?"

"Well, he received medical clearance, so he shouldn't be, but that's not to say he's still not experiencing some pain. It's possible, but I'll be damned if I'm going to allow you to accuse Starsky of abusing narcotics. There's only one man I know that would be less likely to take drugs than Starsky, and that's his partner. So, we need to be very careful here, Agent Mitchell. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sure Captain, I understand. That's why I wanted to speak with you privately. But I also think we need to reconsider using those two for this operation. Too damn much is at stake."

Once again, Dobey found it necessary to nod in agreement.

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

"I gotta go."

"What?" Hutch was incredulous. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I just gotta go, Hutch. Tell Dobey I'm sorry."

"Now just wait a minute, partner. You are not going to leave me holding the bag here; you have something to say to the captain, then you go and say it. I'm not doing your dirty work!" Hutch was too angry to see the fear in Starsky's eyes. All he saw was a man who screwed up and was refusing to take responsibility for it.

"Hutch, don't. Please, don't be mad."

"You've got to be kidding! I can't remember the last time I was this pissed off with you."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that, but I gotta go...." He moved toward the door, unlocked it, and without facing Hutch said, "I've got to go check something out, Hutch."

"Really? Well, how do you think you're gonna get there, buddy? I drove this morning, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember. Don't matter anyhow." Starsky left the room.

"Shit," Hutch muttered as he went to splash some cold water on his face. He looked in the mirror and couldn't help but wonder what that last exchange was all about. All Hutch knew was it left him with a really bad feeling.

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

The cab dropped Starsky off in his old neighborhood about forty minutes later. He practically emptied his wallet to pay for the fare and tip, and realized he'd have to find a bank to cash a check if he wanted to get back home again. Of course, he could always mooch a ride off of his Aunt Rosie, though he doubted he'd feel like seeing her after he finished with his meeting.

He walked up to the small office building and opened the door. He smiled as he took in the once familiar room with its stacks of magazines geared for all ages. Starsky even noted the small play corner that was still filled with building blocks and trucks and a few GI Joe dolls and unclothed Barbie dolls. 'Amazing how it's always the Barbies that find themselves buck-naked,' he mused to himself.

He walked up to the receptionist's window and, not recognizing the woman behind the desk, he introduced himself. "Hi, I'm David Starsky. I called earlier to speak with Dr. Freedman?"

"Oh, sure. The doctor is in with a patient at the moment, but he did say he'd be happy to speak with you when he was through. Why don't you just have a seat, and I'll call you when he's available," she informed him in that pleasant, receptionist-tone of voice.

"Thanks," he replied and found his way to a seat.

Just then a young woman entered. She held onto the hand of a toddler in her right hand and awkwardly held onto an infant daughter in her left. "Adam, please honey, let go of Mommy's leg and go play." She sat down in a heap across from Starsky. "I love my kids, but there are moments when I do wonder..." she said tiredly.

"They sick?" asked Starsky conversationally.

"No, just due for immunizations which is not making Adam terribly happy. I like to warn him, but it's times like this that I wonder if that's such a good idea." She looked tenderly at her infant daughter, all dressed in pink. "It was a lot easier when Adam was Chrissy's age. Oh, well."

The young mother looked around and then said, "Is your little one being examined now?"

"Oh, no. I don't have any kids. I'm a former patient of Doc Freedman's and needed to talk with him about something."

"Oh, I see. In fact, I'm a little envious." Just then Adam looked up from the toy corner and called out excitedly, "Look Mama! I builded our house!"

"Then there times like this that I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's," she said with a smile.

Starsky nodded and then thought, 'I wouldn't let you trade yours for my life, little mother. Don't think I'm too anxious to keep mine at the moment, myself.'

Just then, a strong, booming voice rang out. "Davey? Davey Starsky? Get your hide in here right now young man!"

Starsky stood up and followed the sound of the pediatrician's voice. When he walked through the door that led to the examination rooms and doctor's office, he saw Dr. Freedman standing tall in front of him.

"Davey! What a wonderful surprise! Come here, son!"

Starsky took two strides and found himself enveloped in the arms of the big man that Starsky often imagined was a great big teddy bear in another life. "Hey, Doc. It's great to see you again."

And for the first time in weeks, David Starsky felt safe.

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

"Where's your partner, Hutchinson?" asked Dobey.

"He left, captain."

"He what?"

"He left. I don't know where he went; all I can tell you is he said he needed to check something out." Hutch shrugged at this point. "I couldn't very well tackle him to make him stay, and quite frankly at that point I wasn't too upset to see him leave. I don't know what's going on in that head of his."

Dobey chose to leave the issue of Starsky's departure on the table for the moment. Hutch was right; there was no reason to make the man stay at that point. He was no longer a part of the operation, and his insubordination could be dealt with later. It was the reason behind the inappropriate behavior that had Dobey more concerned.

"Son," he began gently, almost tentatively, because Dobey was well aware of Hutch's probable reaction to his next question. "Was Starsky on any pain medication due to his injury?"

"While he was in the hospital, they gave him some Tylenol, I think, but nothing stronger than...." Hutch stopped short, as the full impact of Dobey's question hit him. "Cap, you don't think -? C'mon, cap, this is Starsky we're talking about. You know he would never do drugs. You know that! What the hell would make you even ask such a question?"

He paused to catch his breath and then noticed the Feds were no longer around. "Mitchell and Curtiss put you up to that, didn't they?" he asked rhetorically.

"Hutch, listen to me," Dobey pleaded, "he's been acting...well, you know, off his feed lately. The doctors said he was okay, but it's been obvious that he's not. Bob," Dobey hesitated at Hutch's glaring, unspoken condemnation of Dobey's familiarity with the FBI agents, "I mean, Agent Mitchell, felt that Starsky looked like he wasn't quite all there during the planning stages. Mitchell said, well, son, he said the boy looked like he was spaced out."

Hutch looked away from his captain. He knew if Dobey could see in his eyes what was there now, Starsky would have been as good as hung.

"You've seen it too, haven't you, Ken."

Hutch looked up, startled. When Cap called them by their first names, he knew he was made. "Yeah, cap, there have been times these last couple of weeks that Starsky's seemed a bit out of it, but I can't believe it's because he's taking drugs. Maybe the docs were wrong? Maybe he was cleared for work too soon?"

"Yeah, maybe." The captain sighed, knowing what he had to do and yet not happy with the prospect of it. "When your AWOL partner turns up, tell him I need to see him."

"Yes, sir." Hutch turned to leave, but suddenly stopped. "What about the Kingston Group case?"

"It's out of our hands now, Hutch." Dobey shrugged his shoulders.

Both men were well aware of the fact that if they'd played a role in breaking up the jewelry ring and the Kingston Group was brought to justice, it would have been quite the feather in Dobey's and the Bay City PD's hats. As it was, Dobey was pretty sure the Feds would think twice before approaching him with a proposal to participate in any future sting operations.

"I'll let you know when Starsky returns." Hutch left the office.

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

"So, Davey, how have you been?" Dr. Freedman then added quickly, "I've been following your career, you know. I even clip out newspaper stories about you. You've come a long way, son. A long way."

Starsky knew the good doctor was talking more than just about his career advancement since his childhood; he was also thinking of the incredible recovery he'd made from the Gunther shooting.

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it."

"So, what brings you back to the old office? I know it's not tonsillitis; we took those out when you were twelve." The physician wore a smile as he spoke; he tried to make it easier for the young man to confess his reason for being there.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," began Starsky. Freedman remained silent; he knew the best way to get someone to talk was to be patient and act as if there were nothing he'd rather be doing than sitting and listening to David Starsky.

"When I was a kid, and I had the...I had the...the epilepsy, what was it like?"

"You don't remember, Davey?" When Starsky lightly shook his head, the doctor knew the younger man wasn't being completely honest with him, but understood the reason for that denial would come soon enough.

"You were diagnosed with Epilepsy around the time just before you moved to California. I guess you were around, what, ten? Eleven? Your mother sent you to live with your Aunt Rose, hoping that being in California would be less stressful for you and diminish the number of seizures."

"But what happened when I had...one of them?"

"In a nutshell? You blanked out, but no one necessarily knew it. You had what's classified as petit mal seizures, David. They were brief, moments of time when your brain was being overrun with electrical charges. You would sit with your eyes open, but be essentially unaware of what was going on around you. Some children blink their eyes rapidly; as I recall, you just tended to stare off into space."

"How long did they last?" he asked.

"Oh, not too long. Anywhere from a few seconds to a couple of minutes. Of course, once you came out of a seizure, you might still be disoriented and not quite sure of what was going on...so your awareness level wouldn't be up to speed for another few minutes."

Starsky nodded, and then asked the question that really bothered him. "Did I ever have one of those big seizures?"

"A grand mal seizure? Yes, around the time you were going through puberty. Your body chemistry was out of whack and you did experience, as I recall three of them. Two were at home, at night, and one was at school. You weren't very happy about that one."

"No?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, son, you weren't," he confirmed quietly. "You weren't down for more than a minute before the school nurse called for an ambulance. As I recall, you were absolutely mortified at the notion of being wheeled out on a gurney from your school auditorium. There was some kind of an assembly that day...." The doctor paused at Starsky's expression.

"Now don't go looking at me like that. I may not remember where I put my reading glasses, but I can tell you every single detail of one of my patient's calls. And I will never forget that one. You were watching some kind of a program that involved a strobe light. You hadn't had a seizure in a couple of months and I suppose it never occurred to you to close your eyes. Anyway, it apparently triggered a grand mal, the likes of which you never had before.

"By the time the ambulance arrived, you'd stopped seizing, but you were definitely groggy and unsure of your surroundings. You'd also lost bladder control as I recall," he added.

"What? You mean I peed in my pants?"

"Yes, Davey. That's not uncommon when you have a grand mal."

Starsky looked down at his shoes and shuddered slightly. He felt humiliation at the notion of that happening then; he was even more mortified at the idea of it happening now.

"Doc, but then I didn't have anymore of them, right?"

"That's right. Once you were through puberty, the seizures stopped; we'd reduced your medication to the point where you were obviously in no longer need of it."

"I was on medication?" Starsky asked, incredulous that that small detail was missing from his memory.

"Yes, you were. We tried a couple of different types actually; I remember we first tried Phenobarbital, but the side effects proved too much for you. We ended up going with Dilantin. It worked well for you."

"But then I didn't need it anymore." The doctor agreed. "What made me have the seizures in the first place?"

"Ah, now that's a good question. As near as we could tell, the most likely cause was a bout of scarlet fever you had when you were around eight."

"But I thought I didn't start having the petit mal things until I was ten?"

"That doesn't mean you weren't having seizures before that, Davey," he said gently. "You most likely were; they probably weren't as frequent or long enough in duration for anyone to really take notice."

Starsky listened to that explanation and accepted it, but it didn't offer him any assurances about his current predicament.

"David, why all the questions about a childhood condition?"

That was the problem. He wasn't sure if it were just a childhood condition. "Can it come back?" he asked in almost a whisper.

And that was the question the good doctor was waiting for.

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

He knew he had no choice but to get checked out in the hospital. Dr. Freedman had urged him to do it as quickly as possible; he'd even offered to accompany him to the hospital right then and there.

"Thanks, Doc," Starsky had said, "but I want to go back to my place and get an overnight bag put together and let my partner know what's going on. I owe him and my boss a whole lot of explanations. I appreciate your taking the time to see me. Oh, and thanks for the cab fare. I'll pay ya back real soon."

"David," he'd said, as seriously as he'd ever heard the man speak to him, "don't fool around with this. Remember what I told you; this is most likely not a reoccurrence of your childhood condition. It's probably a result of that concussion you had recently. Don't delay in having your head looked at, do you hear me?"

He'd heard him, loud and clear. Scared the hell out of him on one hand yet gave him a real sense of relief on the other. Funny how notions of a brain hemorrhage sounded more appealing to him than his epilepsy returning.

Go figure.

David took a cab back to his apartment and was surprised to find Hutch waiting for him inside. "Found your key, huh?"

Hutch nodded, but remained silent. He watched his partner walk casually into his bedroom and wondered when Starsky planned on coming out to explain himself. He refused to budge from his spot. Starsky was the screw-up, and Hutch had spent his entire day trying to apologize for his aberrant behavior. But almost fifteen minutes had passed and Starsky still hadn't returned to the living room.

Sighing deeply, Hutch stood up and walked toward the bedroom. As he approached the doorway, he was tempted to call out to his partner and ask him what the hell was he doing in there, but he stopped himself when he heard odd noises emanating from inside. When Hutch looked inside, he saw an overnight bag on the bed, opened and with some items tossed over the top of it. He did not see Starsky.

But he heard him.

Hutch entered and called out to him, cautiously at first and then, when he received no intelligible response, he called out more urgently. "Starsky? What's going on?" Hutch walked to the other side of the room, around the bed and toward the bathroom, when he nearly tripped over something that blocked his path.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." Hutch saw his partner in the throes of a grand mal seizure. He quickly knelt down and pushed away anything that was within reach of Starsky's body. He quickly loosened his friend's collar and turned him onto his side. Finally, he picked up the phone at the same time he looked at his watch to time the length of the seizure.

Hutch punched in the emergency number and requested an ambulance to 2000 Ridgeway Avenue. "Yeah, hurry. He's having a seizure." Hutch listened to the operator and responded, "No, I don't know why...Wait! He was treated for a concussion a couple of weeks ago." The operator indicated an ambulance was being immediately dispatched, and to just make sure the victim was on his side and away from potentially harmful objects. Hutch nodded into the phone, and then realized his foolishness. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate your help."

Hutch kept one eye on his watch and noted with some worry that it was over a minute and a half that he'd been witnessing Starsky seizing. He had no idea how long his friend was down before he'd entered the bedroom. "Shit, Starsk," Hutch muttered anxiously, "what the hell has been going on with you?"

It was with a great sense of relief that Hutch heard the siren of the ambulance coming closer and closer. "Okay, buddy, it looks like the cavalry has arrived." Suddenly, Hutch noticed the darkening stain of Starsky's jeans. "Oh, God, Starsk, oh God. Okay...don't worry, buddy, it's gonna be fine. You'll see, it's gonna be okay." He quickly grabbed the light throw cover from the bed and draped it over his partner's lower body. Moments later, the paramedics entered the apartment and asked Hutch to move aside so they could get to work.

Starsky was still seizing.

"How long has this been going on?" asked the fair-haired paramedic.

"It's almost four minutes. I don't know how long he was seizing before I found him," answered Hutch in a strangled voice. "This is too long; it's too damn long. Can't you give him something?"

"That's just what we're going to do, sir. Why don't you step over there so we can set up our equipment and help your friend, okay?" the female paramedic asked kindly but firmly.

While the paramedic team did what was necessary to stabilize Starsky, Hutch picked up the phone again and called the station. Dobey was still there, and Hutch spoke to him. Or at least he tried.

"Cap? Oh God, Cap, I think he's in trouble."

"Where are you Hutchinson?" Hutch didn't answer him. "Ken, where are you?"

"Starsky's. They're going to transport him as soon as he's stabilized."

"Stabilized? What the hell happened to him? Was he shot?"

"No -no, he wasn't shot. I think it's from the concussion. He's seizing. He's been seizing too long, damn it." Hutch was becoming frantic.

"He's what?" called out an equally anxious Dobey.

"I gotta go, Cap," he choked out. "Meet us at the hospital." Hutch hung up the phone.

"Sir, we're ready to transport."

"Is he okay?" asked Hutch.

"He's stabilized for now, sir. You can meet us at the hospital."

Hutch followed on their heals.

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

"Ken! Ken, how's he doing?"

Hutch looked up with relief to see his superior appear in the waiting room. The day had wrecked havoc with his emotions, and the sight of someone that he could lean on was a welcomed one.

"They're running tests, cap. No one's told me anything other than they're running tests. Lots and lots of test...." Hutch ran his hands through his hair in frustration. His disheveled appearance only gave more credence to the anxiety he felt.

"What happened, Ken?"

"He came home and the next thing I know he disappears into his bedroom. I waited a while and went searching for him and found him on the floor seizing. I called the ambulance, then you, and now we're here. Waiting. And I'm don't want to wait anymore, damn it!"

The tall blonde began pacing back and forth, much like a caged Bengal waiting to strike at the first thing that bars his path.

"Hutch, calm down. He'll be okay."

"Will he, cap? And if he is, it sure as hell won't be because of me! Damn it, cap, I should have known something was wrong with him. He didn't look right, he didn't act right...shit, as soon as he asked that stupid ass question in this morning's meeting the warning bells should have gone off like the liberty bell! How could I be so blind as to not realize he was sick? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Hutch, it wasn't just you...none of us saw it as anything serious."

"No, but we were real quick to assume he was doing drugs, right, cap?"

The captain cringed at that last remark, to which Hutch immediately said, "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me."

"No, but it was accurate. We were all at fault, son. C'mon, let's go sit down and wait for the doctor." Dobey gently led the taller man to a chair in the waiting area. He sat down next to him, and together they waited.

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

Dobey only stayed in the ICU room for a couple of minutes, just long enough to tell the sleeping patient that he was praying for him and to say he was sorry. "I never meant to doubt you, son. Forgive me," he rasped.

As Dobey left the ICU room, he shook the hand of the worried man he'd left waiting anxiously outside. "I'm going home for a bit. I'll be back later, Hutch. You call me if there's any change, you hear? Or just call me if you need me here sooner." The younger man nodded and pulled him into a short, but heartfelt hug.

"Thanks, cap. I will." Hutch turned and walked into the small, glass-encased room. He took in the wires, the patches and leads, the monitors that beeped and dinged at any given movement. He sat down and took hold of his partner's hand as he looked at the face that now looked so serene.

"Ya know, partner, we have got to stop meeting like this. We're both getting way too old for this." He sighed and took in his friend's appearance. He wore a heavy bandage at the back of his head, which covered the large, shaved area. "You're going to be none too happy about that little fashion statement, are you, buddy? But it'll grow back soon enough, Starsk. I promise, you'll look great in no time."

Hutch tried to imagine what it must have been like for his partner, to essentially have a time bomb in his brain. 'Intracerebral hemorrhage,' Hutch repeated to himself. 'Damn, partner, you're sure getting fancier with the ailments.'

He remained deep in thought, listening to the cacophony of machine noises while holding his partner's hand, until he heard someone clearing their throat by the room's entrance. Hutch looked up but didn't recognize the tall, well-built, older man standing there.

"May I help you?" asked Hutch.

"Do you mind if I come in to check on him?"

"He's not supposed to have too many visitors."

"I think it's all right; I'm his doctor."

Hutch was immediately suspicious - he couldn't recall ever having seen the man before, and if there was one thing Hutch was well aware of it was Starsky's long list of physicians. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"Dr. Freedman. Oh, you must be Ken, Davey's partner," the doctor affirmed as he extended his hand.

"Dr. Freedman, I am Ken Hutchinson, but I'm afraid I don't know you from a hole in the wall."

"My apologies, Ken. I'm actually no longer Davey's doctor, though he did pay me a visit today. He needed some medical history, and he knew I could provide it."

"What kind of medical history?" asked Hutch.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, Ken. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I am very careful to honor. But I'm sure Davey will be willing to share it with you when he's up to it." He looked over at the patient. "I spoke to his surgeon. He told me they got the bleeder relatively easily once they knew what they were looking for. Thank heavens for those new-fangled CT scanners.

Next, the physician turned to Hutch and asked, "How's the patient's partner doing? You look a bit whipped."

"You're a master of the obvious, Doctor," Hutch said with a small smile. "You call Starsky 'Davey'. The only people I've ever heard call him that was his mother and aunt."

"Yes, his aunt used to bring Davey to my office. I was his pediatrician." The doctor saw Hutch still wore a puzzled expression. "I see his aunt in the old neighborhood; we talk about the two of you on a fairly regular basis. Especially since he was shot last year."

Hutch nodded. He then looked up as new understanding came to him and asked, "You knew, didn't you? You told him to go to the hospital."

"Well, yes, but I heard he hadn't come in voluntarily; he came in by ambulance."

Hutch nodded but then explained, "When I went into the bedroom I noticed his overnight bag. He was packing it. I didn't realize why he was packing it until just now; he was going to check himself into the hospital, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Ken. I'd offered to go with him, but he wanted to go home first. He'd said he was planning on calling you. Said something about having some explaining to do."

"Yeah, that's an understatement; problem is it's me who probably has to do the explaining."

"Ken, it sounds like there was no one truly at fault here; it was one of those things that no one can prepare for. He was very lucky that you showed up when you did, wasn't he?"

Hutch smiled. "You must make a mean lemonade, Doc."

"Yeah, I've also been known to see cups as half-full as opposed to half-empty. I suppose it's my line of business that keeps me young and positive."

"I would think," agreed Hutch. Then, he looked at his best friend and with tears glistening but unshed, said, "He keeps me thinking young and positive, too."

"I know doubt it, young man. Well, I'd best be on my way. Tell Davey I was here, won't you? His aunt will be here bright and early tomorrow. And you take care, Ken, and don't beat yourself up too much. Neither one of you needs to carry around any more extra baggage."

"Thanks, Doc. I'll tell him, and I'll try to remember the advice."

"Good man. G'night, Ken."

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

They were at half-mast, but they were opened and that's all Hutch cared about. "Hey, partner, you in there?"

Starsky mumbled something, but it was difficult to understand with the oxygen mask over his mouth.

"Sorry, babe, I didn't understand you."

Starsky tried to raise his hand to his face, but Hutch wouldn't let him. "Shh, it's okay. I'll do it." He gently picked up the mask and leaned in close. "Just for a second, Starsk."

"Sorry," he rasped out.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Starsk. We ignored the symptoms; both the captain and I take full blame for this."

"I lived the symptoms - should have known," Starsky said in a painful whisper. Hutch reached over and got a glass with some ice chips. He spooned some into Starsky's mouth and was rewarded with a satisfied smile.

"I don't understand, Starsk. What do you mean you, you lived the symptoms?"

"Denying the past nearly got me killed," he responded.

"Sorry babe, but I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about."

"I know. I owe you some explanations; I promise." Starsky yawned and then coughed.

"Okay, buddy, explanations will have to wait till later. Let's put the mask back on so you can get some more shut-eye."

"Wait! The hair?" Starsky asked, only slightly panic-stricken.

"Sorry, Starsk - you can start a new trend... Patchwork curls." Hutch softened the blow with a huge smile.

"Ha-ha." Starsky smiled back, but then found himself yawning again. Before Hutch could replace the mask, Starsky said, "Hutch? Thanks for being there. I knew I could count on you, no matter what."

"No denying that, my friend. No denying that."

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

The end.