Disclaimers: They don't belong to me. Well, the good Doctor is mine, but Starsky & Hutch, as well as Dobey, belong to Spelling/Goldberg productions, David Soul, Paul Michael Glaser, and Bernie Hamilton.

Acknowledgement: I need to acknowledge a fellow X-files writer by the name of Sean Spencer. Dr. Sean created the Baccarat Universe series, and I used one of his stories, Baccarat Piece: Orchid, as a reference for my doctor-patient scene in terms of the type of examination needed and further tests that would be required. For those interested (be aware the Baccarat series are M/Sk slash, (though Fear of the Unknown is not a slash story) and can be found on the MulderTorture website: http://www.muldertorture.com/

Also, special thanks to Mary Kleinsmith and Dawn (SunnyD!) for their thoughtful betas.

Rating: PG13 for sensitive subject area

Fear of the Unknown

Hutch couldn't help but notice his normally lively chatterbox of a partner was anything but his usual self. There was none of the banter between them, and that anomaly had been gradually becoming more and more apparent over the last several days.

Hutch had finally had enough.

"Okay, Starsky, what did I do this time to frazzle your delicate constitution?"

Starsky's attention continued to be totally focused on the file that was before him, but Hutch wasn't ready to buy that ruse for one second.

"Starsky, I asked you a question. What's going on?"

Starsky's face finally came out of the folder; he looked at his partner with a confused expression. "What, Hutch? You need something?"

"This conversation is not over, Starsk, just remember that."

Starsky nodded his head, but he'd be damned if he had a clue as to what their conversation had been about in the first place. Nor did he care at this point...he had other things to think about.

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

It was known that only one of the robbers carried a gun; the other one acted as a lookout. The cops also knew the perps looked very similar; they dressed in the same color and type of clothes and covered their faces with the same color ski cap. Both individuals were of the same general height and build. But only one at a time ever pulled a gun out to threaten the counter person. It was too bad they had to go and graduate to using the damn thing.

Someone didn't wait.

The perp nearest the door was getting riled up. He obviously smelled something rotten in the air.

"C'mon, man, we gotta get the hell out o' here."

"What the fuck you talking about? We got a job to do first, then we split man," his accomplice informed.

"No, man, we gotta get out of here now!" At that moment he began flailing his arms about and from the angle David Starsky was observing, it appeared that the young man was about to pull a weapon from his jacket.

Starsky shot first, thought later.

Starsky shot the unarmed suspect.

Unfortunately, the armed perp got upset and decided to display his emotions by shooting up the storefront window and showering with glass the officers waiting outside to arrest him. The police were as good as sitting ducks, but the officers were very lucky. Only one detective suffered a few cuts and needed stitches. Well, several stitches.

And the armed perp was shot dead soon after that.

It should have been a simple arrest. They had the backup; they had a plan. Only Starsky jumped the gun which caused him to not only shoot an unarmed man, but to instigate an armed one into firing his weapon which in turn caused bodily injury to his partner.

You see, it was Hutch who needed the several stitches. Well, sixteen to be exact.

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

A couple of hours or so later they'd all gathered in Captain Dobey's office once Hutch was released from the hospital.

"So? Which one of you is going to explain what the hell happened back there?" demanded an irate Captain Dobey. There was absolute silence among the six officers that stood before Dobey. Hanson's partner, Jimmy Randolph, was there strictly as a formality. He'd stood near the police car, mic in hand, and kept headquarters informed about what was going down.

Hanson, Donahue, and Richardson remained quiet, since they were at the other side of the storefront when shots were fired. Starsky also remained mute, which of course drove Hutch to the breaking point, so he began spouting an explanation.

"Nothing to explain, Captain. It appeared that the perp closest to the window was about to draw a weapon and so we shot him."

"I shot 'im," responded Starsky in a muted monotone.

"Look, it was a split-second reaction," Hutch tried to justify.

"But you were given strict orders to hold your fire until the armed perp showed his weapon, damn it!" shouted the captain. "What the hell were you thinking, Starsky?"

Starsky stood still, no movement, which in and of itself should have sounded some alarms for his captain, but it didn't. Dobey simply looked at him and told him to hand over his gun.

"For crying out loud, Cap, it was a clean shoot!" defended Hutch.

Starsky remained silent and simply handed over his weapon. He was about to hand over his shield too, but the captain stopped him.

"Starsky, you're on desk duty until IA finishes its investigation. I'm sure you'll come out clean," Dobey clarified.

The officers nodded their heads, all except for Starsky. He remained standing statue-like, incapable of making a simple decision. All of the other men wondered what was going on with their fellow officer. Of the two partners, Starsky had always been the one to take charge and not hold back. Yet at that moment, he looked about as decisive as a two-year-old about to say good-bye to his mama.

"Let's go write the report, Starsk," said Hutch softly as he grasped his partner's elbow to lead him out of the captain's office. Starsky moved, though it was certainly without his usual grace, and allowed himself to be led to Hutch's desk. Hutch practically pushed him into the chair and then sat beside him at his typewriter.

Hutch figured out rather quickly that Starsky was in no shape to type the report, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Sure, two perps were shot and killed, and yes, it may have been avoided, but there was no way to know that for sure.

And yes, Hutch knew that Starsky always heaped a lot of guilt upon himself whenever it was Hutch who was injured in the line of duty; Starsky always felt he should be able to do something to prevent that.

But there was more to the problem; Starsky's strange behavior hadn't started today after the incident. He'd been acting kind of odd prior to it; in fact, he'd been acting a bit off for the last week or so.

Hutch was about to ask him what was going on when Hanson stopped momentarily at Hutch's desk to ask, "We're gonna write up what we did and then we'll compare notes, okay?" Hutch nodded, to which Hanson responded, "We'll be back in a half hour so we can get the whole thing typed up together." Hutch agreed and realized Starsky's state of mind was going to have to wait until after they'd written the report.

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

There were some questions as to how the shooting description should be worded. Hanson had been editorializing a bit in his version and Hutch wanted to make sure the account was strictly objective and factual. All through the occasionally heated discussion, Starsky remained quiet. He never commented on anything being said or raised his voice to defend himself. It appeared as if he weren't paying the least bit of attention to the fervent debate that was ensuing around him. His mind was definitely not on the report, or his job, or surprisingly enough, Hutch's injury.

The report was finally placed on Dobey's desk a little over an hour and a half later. The hour was late and Dobey told his men to log out, but to be on time the following morning. "And that includes you, too, Starsky," he blustered.

All of this registered in the blond detective's mind as he once again grasped Starsky's elbow to lead him out the door. The other members of the squad looked up questioningly as the once infallible duo left the precinct.

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

"This ain't my apartment," Starsky said as Hutch pulled up into his parking space.

"No kidding."

"Why am I here, Hutch?" Starsky asked in earnest confusion. He hadn't said a word during the entire ride from the station to Venice Place, nor had he indicated any interest in the direction the ride was taking until they actually parked in front of Hutch's place.

"For cripes sake, I screwed up royally today and shot an unarmed suspect," Starsky blustered, "so why the hell wouldn't something be bothering me?"

"C'mon," replied Hutch calmly. "Let's go in and grab a bite to eat and talk."

"There ain't nothing to talk about," retorted Starsky, though he followed his partner into the apartment with no more objections.

Hutch found a couple of not too thick, frozen steaks, seasoned them, and threw them on the broiler. Both guys preferred their meat 'black & blue' anyway. Hutch found some fresh broccoli and a couple of ears of corn. He tossed the corn into a pot of boiling water and the broccoli into the steamer. About twenty minutes later, the two men were eating their dinner, though the usual companionable silence was less than comfortable.

In between bites, Hutch said, "You want to tell me what's going on with you?"

"I told you; I'm pissed off with myself over the bad shoot."

"First of all, we don't know that it's going to go down as a bad shoot, and second of all, you've been in a 'pissy' mood long before today's incident." Hutch looked on as Starsky lowered his eyes. "C'mon, buddy, what the hell's going on with you?"

"You think it was a bad shoot, doncha?" he asked, not willing to get on with the real problem quite yet. Given how Hutch just phrased his assessment of what had gone down, Starsky was suddenly really worried that Internal Affairs might actually find him at fault and take his badge away.

"No, Starsk, I don't think it was a bad shoot," he said, albeit with the slightest hesitancy. When he realized that his partner had clearly picked up on his slight faltering, he clarified and said, "I think it was a regrettable one, and possibly one that could have been avoided, but that doesn't mean it was a bad shoot. You didn't set out to kill the kid."

"Kid?" echoed Starsky. This was the first he'd even heard any reference to the perp's age.

"He was seventeen years old, Starsky."

He blanched at this bit of information; he'd avoided any real discussion of the incident by closing himself off from it, but he'd never even considered that the perp he shot was only seventeen. "What about the other one? The one with the gun?" he asked with a slightly tremulous voice.

Hutch hesitated yet again before finally conceding the truth. "Sixteen."

"C'mon, Starsk, you didn't tell them to start robbing convenient marts for kicks, and you didn't put the damn gun in their hands, and you didn't direct them to shoot two victims, now did you? Starsky," he moved over to his increasingly distraught partner, "it was an honest mistake. You knew the background on these two; you knew there was a possibility they were going to open fire and possibly harm someone. You wanted to prevent that. You made a mistake, but it was an honest mistake."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if IA agrees. Somehow I don't think they're gonna be quite as understandin', ya know?" Starsky bent down and grabbed at his knees in order to try to slow his breathing down and catch his breath. "Probably don't matter anyways," he mumbled a little too loudly for Hutch not to hear something.

"What was that, buddy?"

Starsky didn't mean for Hutch to hear him and quickly shook his head. "Nothing, it don't mean nothing." Starsky looked at Hutch and knew he wasn't buying that for a moment. "C'mon, partner, you know that IA has always had it out for us. Well, now's their chance to get me out! They probably figure if I'm out, you'll be sure to follow..." Starsky's face clouded over and he quickly said, "Hutch, you won't let them do that to you, will ya? I mean, I don't want you to leave the force just because they kick me out, right?"

"They're not going to kick you off the force, pal. They don't have any evidence that would warrant kicking you off the force. They may force you on desk duty for a period of time, they may even force you to recertify in weapons use, but they're not kicking you off the force," Hutch said earnestly.

"Yeah, but if they did, you wouldn't leave because of that, right?"

"Starsky, it's a moot point."

"Well, what if something else came up and I had to turn in my badge. You wouldn't leave then, would you?" Starsky asked anxiously.

Now Hutch was sensing something else was distinctly on his partner's mind, but as much as he wanted to pounce on him and pull the problem out of him, he knew better. Hutch knew Starsky responded best when he was allowed to go at his own pace. Patience was going to be Ken Hutchinson's middle name.

"I don't know, Starsky. I guess it would depend upon what the reason was. I mean if it was something that was unjustified, then I don't know. I just don't know."

Starsky finally stopped pacing and lowered himself onto the couch. Instantly, Hutch's protective instincts kicked in, though for the life of him he wasn't sure why. Hutch looked at his partner with more concern than ever, and Starsky began to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"What?" he asked with anxiety.

"I don't know, Starsk, something just__." Suddenly it hit him and Hutch immediately demanded, "Tell me what's wrong."

"I told you, Hutch, I'm upset about the bad 'shoot'."

"No, no damn it, that's not it. Tell me what's wrong." When Starsky continued to ignore his demand, Hutch asked softly, but so seriously that he knew Starsky would not be able to ignore him, "What's hurting you?"

Starsky's head popped up and he made eye contact with his partner. Blue on blue had never emitted so much intensity.

And it was at that moment that Hutch saw in his partner's eyes the real reason for Starsky's unusual behavior over the last few days.

Fear.

Starsky was scared to death about something, but he apparently was even more scared about discussing it with his partner. Hutch, on the other hand, had no such compunction.

"David Starsky, tell me what's going on, now."

Starsky laughed nervously at hearing the use of his first name. "Now I know you're pissed off. Of course, when I hear you say David Michael, then I know I'd better run for the hills, right?"

Hutch refused to give into Starsky's forced lightheartedness. "What's wrong, and tell me the God damned truth."

Starsky got up again, as slowly as he'd eased himself down onto the couch, and that's when Hutch knew what it was that caused him to realize there was absolutely something wrong.

His partner was notorious for plopping himself anywhere and everywhere. On the couch, in a chair, on the floor, it didn't matter; he was capable of twisting and turning and making his body at home in any corner of any room of any area.

But that was far from what he was observing now. He instantly remembered how his partner had not simply dropped himself into a heap onto the couch; he'd eased himself down, almost cautiously. And now he'd risen slowly off the couch rather than bouncing up with his usual abandon. The last time he'd done anything like that was when he'd finished dinner, but he'd done so without thinking, and Hutch could swear he remembered a hint of a grimace on his partner's face.

The more he thought about it, the more Hutch realized that he'd been seeing this kind of behavior from Starsky for a number of days. It wasn't just his lack of affect and communication, it was also his reduced activity and movement that had Hutch concerned.

So what the hell was it? What was wrong with his partner and why wasn't he letting him know what it was?

"Please, buddy, you're scaring the hell out of me. What's wrong with you?"

Starsky began to pace again. He didn't know what to say, or rather, how to say it. He was scared, but he was embarrassed too, and he didn't know which he felt more. But this was his partner; he could tell Hutch anything, anything, right? There was no reason for him to be scared or embarrassed or awkward about this with his partner, was there?

"Oh God, I _, I don't know for sure," Starsky began with trepidation. He suddenly felt like an idiot for opening the door, but he knew now that he did, his partner wasn't going to let him escape without telling him everything.

"C'mon, Starsk, it can't be that bad, can it? Whatever it is, it can be fixed, right?" responded Hutch in what he'd hoped was a reassuring tone. Unfortunately, his phrasing only served to make Starsky more reticent about sharing his problem.

"Hutch, I guess so," he said nervously. He wanted desperately to leave and escape Hutch's scrutiny, because he knew if he had to voice what his fears were, the problem would become all too real, and Starsky was quite sure he wasn't ready to face that reality yet.

Hutch recognized his partner's skittishness, and reached over to grasp his arm. "Sit," he commanded with a gentle firmness that only Hutch was capable of using. "Sit down and you will talk to me. Now."

Once again, Starsky stopped moving and looked at his partner's eyes. He saw concern, caring, and understanding. If he couldn't tell Hutch what was bothering him, he didn't think he'd be able to tell anyone. He slowly moved back to the couch and carefully lowered himself back down next to Hutch.

A few minutes passed, and just as Hutch was ready to lose patience, Starsky said, "I guess I'm a little embarrassed about this, Hutch. I mean, I'm scared, but I'm embarrassed too."

Hutch looked confused. He couldn't imagine what could possibly create such a dichotomy of emotions in his partner. Then something dawned on him and he asked, "Whadda ya got? Hemorrhoids or something?" with a slight, albeit nervous, chuckle.

Starsky closed his eyes momentarily and whispered, "Or something."

That brought Hutch back into focus, and he immediately asked him to explain. "Please, Starsk, the not understanding is probably worse than the reality."

"I don't know for sure, Hutch. I've just been kind of reading about it, ya know?"

"NO, damn it! I don't know, because you're not telling me anything!" Hutch cried out in frustration. He wished he could take back the vehemence of his words when he saw his friend cringe. "Starsk, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured as he reached over to lay a comforting hand on his partner's arm. When Starsky flinched slightly, Hutch knew he'd have to tread more lightly.

"Whenever you're ready, buddy. Take a deep breadth and just say it. I'm listening."

Several more minutes passed while Hutch sat quietly, biting his tongue, but quietly, stroking his partner's arm in some attempt to comfort and reassure him. Just as Hutch was ready to throw in the towel, Starsky breathed deeply and spoke.

"I um, well, I um was doing my thing, ya know?" he stammered, but realized that Hutch hadn't a clue as to what his 'thing' was. "I've been in a bit of a dry spell, women-wise, ya know what I mean?" When Hutch silently nodded, Starsky continued. "Well, I was, well, you know...jerking off."

There, he said it. Starsky could not for the life of him understand why he found it so difficult to talk with his partner, his best friend, about this. Hell, he hadn't felt this awkward when his Aunt Rosie walked in on him masturbating in his bedroom. That was the last time she ever came into his room without knocking.

But what was it about discussing this kind of stuff with Hutch?

They talked about everything else in the world, but getting himself off and talking about what he'd felt was proving to be harder than anything he'd ever had to do in his life.

"Okay, Starsk...so you were doin' what comes naturally," he reassured with a smile. "So, what happened that's got you all bent out of shape...um, no pun intended," he said as his face blushed from the double entendre.

Starsky actually found himself smiling at his partner's faux pas. It felt good to forget his problems, even if it was just for a couple of seconds. He gave himself a second or two and then nervously went on to explain.

"I was, well, doing my thing, and I was really starting to get into it. I mean_, jeeze, Hutch, this is embarrassing!"

"Starsky, listen to me, my friend. You can tell me anything. Do you hear me? Anything, and you don't ever have to feel embarrassed or self-conscious when it comes to talking to me. I mean it."

Starsky nodded at that because he knew in his head that was the absolute truth; now if he could only convince his heart. "Okay, well, I was getting into it and I started playin' around with my nuts, you know?"

Starsky was turning beet red, and if Hutch wasn't so damned scared over what this was all leading to, he could have almost found his partner's abashment endearing. Instead, he offered him encouragement to continue by saying, "Yeah, I do know. It feels good; it's a guy thing, I guess." Hutch was feeling a little discomfort about the details of the conversation as well; he could only imagine what was going through Starsky's mind.

"Right, I guess so. That's um, when I felt it," he mumbled.

"What? I didn't hear you, partner."

"Aww, Starsk, please. Talk to me. What did you feel?" he asked softly.

"I dunno, Hutch. I can't tell if it's a lump like the books say or if it's something else like a cyst or if it's maybe a stone or I just dunno..." he babbled.

"Where?" asked Hutch who was now more scared than embarrassed.

"In my left ball, Hutch. I think I felt a lump in my left testicle," he said lowering his head.

He gave himself a chance to think things through and then asked, "What did the doctor say?"

At that, Starsky looked up in complete bewilderment. "Doctor?"

It took only seconds for Hutch to understand his partner's confusion and as a result, Hutch exploded, "You haven't gone to see a doctor yet? Starsky, what the hell is the matter with you?"

When Hutch saw his partner begin to tremble, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do to Starsky first, hug him or strangle him. He was leaning toward the latter.

"Okay, Starsk, let's go."

"Go? Where we going, Hutch?"

Hutch couldn't decide if his partner was playing dumb or he really had no clue as to where they were headed. Normally he'd assume his otherwise very bright partner was just playing dumb. However Hutch knew the whole situation had really thrown Starsky for a loop, and considering that it took him this long to admit to Hutch what the problem was, he had to figure Starsky honestly didn't know what the next logical step was.

"Hospital, my friend."

"What?"

"You heard me. Let's go."

"I ain't going to no hospital."

"Yeah, you are."

And before Starsky knew it, his response flew out of his mouth, "Why?" and he wished he could take it back when he heard his partner's response.

"Because I don't want my partner to die of cancer if I can help it, that's why. Now let's go check this out and see what we're dealing with."

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

Hutch paced outside the room while Starsky had to endure the examination. He knew how scared Starsky was; hell, he knew how scared he felt. He found himself reciting short prayers, more like attempts at bargaining with the Big Guy upstairs, as he waited for the doctor to come out with some news.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Starsky suffered in silence, though the doctor, Dr. Kendal, was very understanding and handled Starsky's fragile ego very gently. The doctor was careful, but thorough. First he questioned about the mass and when he'd first discovered it.

"About a week or so ago," he replied softly.

"Do you feel any pain?"

"No, Doc. Is that a good sign? I mean, the fact that there's no pain means it can't be cancer, right?" he asked hopefully.

"I wish I could say that was automatically true, Mr. Starsky, but I can't," Dr. Kendal replied gently. He allowed that bit of information to sink in before he said, "I've got a couple of more questions, okay?" Starsky nodded.

"Any problem with urination?" Starsky shook his head. "Any change in the color?" Again, Starsky replied in the negative.

"How about your semen? Any problem with ejaculating? Changes in color? Have you noticed any blood present?" To all of those questions, Starsky replied, no, with a great deal of relief. Surely having none of those symptoms meant there was nothing seriously wrong...right?

"Okay, a few more questions, Mr. Starsky."

"Very well, Mr. Starsky, now I'd like to examine you."

And he did. And Starsky wasn't sure if he was going to be able to remain silent as the exam got more involved, it became more and more uncomfortable.

First it began simply enough with the doctor checking his throat, neck, and armpits. Then he had Starsky lay back and placed a sheet over his lower body. After checking his abdomen, he checked his groin and genitalia, even to the extent of measuring the size of his left testicle. Finally, he asked Starsky to lay on his side while he pulled on a new pair of latex gloves and generously lubricated his finger.

The doctor was thorough to the point of causing Starsky to grimace with discomfort. "I know this isn't pleasant, Mr. Starsky, but I need to check for any irregularities. Hang in there for me; it'll just take a few minutes more."

When Dr. Kendal finally did finish his exam, Starsky breathed a well-deserved sigh of relief. He turned over onto his back and was assured by the doctor that there were just a few more things that needed to be done.

"We're going to admit you, Mr. Starsky. I'll call Dr. Morgan, a very highly regarded urologist to examine you as well, and I'm sure he'll want to order some blood tests and take some x-rays."

"Admit me? I don't understand," replied a stunned Starsky.

"Listen, I'm going to write up the orders and then I'll meet you in your room. You may want your friend to join us; sometimes it's better to have a second pair of ears present in a consultation. It might be hard for you to assimilate all of the information."

"Admitted?" Starsky muttered again. Kendal nodded and told him he'd see him in his room shortly.

As the doctor left the room, Hutch immediately appeared. "So, what's the good word, Starsk?"

"Hutch?" His voice quavered. Suddenly, the idea of 'Stick Your Head in the Sand' medicine didn't seem so bad. "They wanna admit me. Run some tests. See an urologist. Hutch? What the hell am I gonna do?"

"Listen, did the doctor say it was serious?" he asked.

"No, but he didn't say it wasn't," replied the patient. "He said he was gonna talk to me when they got me a room. Said you should come too, since I may not hear exactly what he says too good."

"Sounds reasonable. We'll do just that and I'm sure he'll clear up any concerns we have, okay?"

Starsky nodded slightly, but he wished he had his partner's confidence. To tell the truth, so did Hutch.

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

The information the doctor had to offer was anything but comforting. He explained, briefly, the nature of the initial procedure, which was to do a biopsy of the testicle. Dr. Kendal was forthright in his information, and let it be known that there was a possibility, given Starsky's age, that the lump was malignant.

When both men blanched at that statement, Kendal quickly added, "However, it's quite possible that it's a benign growth. It could be nothing more than a collection of water or sperm that's accumulated. Whatever the cause is, you still need to have the area examined by a surgeon."

"Oh, God," Starsky groaned at the mere thought of someone using a scalpel on him in _that_ area.

"Mr. Starsky, listen to me. No one is going to perform needless surgery. Do you understand? The only time a testicle is removed is if there is a certainty of malignancy."

"What are the odds?" asked a meek Starsky.

"I won't lie to you, Mr. Starsky. The odds are more in favor of it being cancerous, but that also does not mean it can't be stopped from spreading."

"Oh, shit," Starsky moaned.

"A technician will be in shortly to draw blood and then an orderly will bring you to x-ray for some pictures. Dr. Morgan will be in either later tonight or tomorrow morning to discuss with you the possibilities. The anesthesiologist will be in sometime tomorrow before surgery as well." The doctor stood up and reached for Starsky's hand. He took it firmly, though Starsky's hand was little more than a limp noodle. He was still trying to absorb the information; most notably the fact that surgery was going to take place. Tomorrow.

"Tomorrow?" he asked as the door shut behind Kendal's back. "Hutch?" he called out panic-stricken, "they're gonna cut me up tomorrow?"

"They're going do a biopsy, Starsky. They're going to see if it's just an accumulation of liquid first, and test it. No one's going to just start cutting without checking it thoroughly first," Hutch attempted to reassure, but he knew his partner wasn't hearing him all that well.

He wished there was something more he could say to calm Starsky, but until he figured out a way of reassuring himself that his partner would be okay, Hutch figured he'd best keep his mouth shut for now.

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

Dobey arrived at the hospital a couple of hours before the afternoon surgery was scheduled. Hutch had phoned him the night before, after they'd spoken to Kendal and knew there were some heavy odds that Starsky was playing against.

When he'd first walked in the room, Starsky turned his face. Hutch realized immediately what the problem was, and quickly assured him that the captain was there for moral support.

"Starsk, there's nothing to be ashamed of," Hutch whispered. The cap just wants to make sure you're all right, and you will be pal. No matter what, you're going to come through this just fine. You understand me?"

Starsky nodded, but neither man was sure if he really believed it.

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

"Hutch," he rasped. When no one responded, he tried calling out a little louder. Finally, when that didn't work he tried raising himself from the bed. That caught a nurse's attention.

"Whoa, slugger, just where do you think you're going?" she asked with a kind smile.

"Hutch? Where's my partner?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

"Oh, you mean the tall good looking blond fellow who's been harassing my nurses for the past hour? That Hutch?" she teased.

"Yeah, that's the one. A real lady-killer, my partner," he said almost wistfully.

"Hey, Starsk," said a familiar voice, "won't be long before you're out breaking hearts too."

"Hutch?" he called out and extended his hand as well. "Where've ya been?" he asked, still in a bit of a stupor from the anesthesia.

"Right outside, waiting for you to wake up from your beauty nap, babe. Where'd you think I'd be? Dobey's outside waiting to see you too."

At the mention of Dobey's name, Starsky flinched slightly, suddenly remembering what question he needed answered. Hutch was well aware of that and called to him softly.

"Starsky, it's okay."

"What's okay? Hutch, tell it to me straight, please? Did they haveta__?"

"No. It was benign, Starsk. Do you understand me? It was nothing more than an accumulation of fluid. No cancer. Everything is intact and where you want it," Hutch confirmed with a smile.

"Oh, jeeze, Hutch, I was so scared they'd have to cut me."

"I know you were, but you're okay. You're fine. Doc said you need a few days in the hospital and then another few weeks of rest, and you'll be good to go," he reassured.

"Everything's fine?" Starsky asked again, this time with a yawn.

"Yes. Everything is fine. You should rest; I'll see you when they bring you back to your room."

"No, wait," he called out. "I just wanna__," he hesitated, but as Hutch was going to blow him off, Starsky said, more strongly, "No, buddy. I just gotta say, thanks.

"I was going crazy, ya know? I was scared and I guess it paralyzed me. I couldn't sleep or eat. I could barely function, and I got you hurt and some poor shmucks killed in the process.

"Damn, I hate soapy scenes," he said shaking his head. But he had to let him know, just this once he had to say it.

"Look, I just wanna tell you how much I depend on you to keep me together. You're a great partner, Hutch, but you're an even better friend. Thanks for showing me it's better to know than fear the unknown."

End of Fear of the Unknown