Part Five

CHAPTER TWENTY

Hutch ducked in and out of doorways, trying to find Louis. It was a nerve-wracking game of hide-and-seek and rain, now falling in drenching, unrelenting sheets, added to the difficulty. Nearly thirty minutes had gone by and he could find no trace of Louis. At least, there had been no more shots fired. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, Louis had given up. Maybe.

He decided to go back and get Starsky. They could go to the car and summon help. He took a deep breath, held it, and ran through the pelting rain back to the Ferris wheel. There, he rested against the bottom car. "Hey," he began, "bud--"

Starsky was gone.

Hutch stared into the empty car stupidly; then he looked around the bottom of the ride. "Starsk?" he yelled.

"Yeah?"

The faint reply came from above and Hutch's gaze rose, raking the top of the Ferris wheel. He froze in horror as he made out the sight of Starsky trying to climb out of the uppermost car. His stomach lurched. "Starsk!"

"Yeah . . . yeah . . . I'm coming, Hutch." Starsky was hanging over the edge of the car.

"Stay there, Starsk, stay there. God, don't move!"

"I want down." The chain around Starsky' s legs tangled and he lost his balance, falling the rest of the way out of the gondola. He just managed to grab the edge of the car and hold on with both hands. "Hutch!" he yelled.

Hutch grabbed the operating mechanism and saw that it was hopelessly jammed. "Hey, buddy," he yelled, "stay there! I'm coming to get you. Stay there." He climbed onto the superstructure of the Ferris wheel and started upwards. The surface of the metal frame was slippery with rain. Bit by bit, he inched his way up.

"Hutch? Is that you?"

"Yeah, yeah, babe, hang on, I'm coming." He tilted his head back a little and got a face full of rain. "You just hang on," he ordered.

"Hutch?"

"What?"

"I think I'm gonna let go." Starsky's voice was confused and scared. "I want to let go. Did you ever feel like letting go, Hutch?"

The drugs were obviously acting on Starsky's mind. Hutch took a deep breath. "No. No, you're not going to let go, Starsky. Damnit, I'm crawling all the way up there to get you. Don't you dare let go, or you can just find yourself a new partner, 'cause I quit! You, hear me?"

Incredibly, Starsky laughed a little. "Yeah . . . yeah, I hear you."

Hutch kept inching higher. The farther he climbed, the stronger became the winds that buffeted him. There was a sudden flash of lightning and he clung to the wheel, wondering briefly what would happen to the two of them if the structure were hit. "That would qualify as a blaze of glory, I guess," he muttered to himself.

"Hutch? You okay?" Starsky asked, after the huge bellow of thunder that followed the lightning.

"I'm fine, Starsk. How many times have I told you that it's the lightning that's dangerous, not the thunder. Thunder can' t hurt you."

"Makes a lot of noise," Starsky said.

Hutch didn't bother to answer. He risked another glance upwards and saw Starsky clinging to the car, looking down. He shook the rain out of his face. "Almost there," he said, more to encourage himself than Starsky. As he got closer, Hutch began to plan his next move. He couldn't risk climbing up next to Starsky, for fear that the weight of their two bodies on one side would tip the car and throw them to the ground. He decided to slip under the car and approach from the opposite side, climb in, and then pull Starsky up. At that point, he could begin to worry about getting them both down.

Hutch reached the top of the Ferris wheel and rested for a moment. He was so damned tired. Day after day after day of tension, no sleep, and draining emotions had worn him down. But it wasn't over yet. He sighed and wiped his face against his arm. "Okay, Starsk, I'm going to climb in and then pull you up. Hold on tight, because the car will probably rock when I get in. Got it?"

"Uh-huh."

He thought that Starsky sounded vague again, but he didn't take the time right then to worry about it. Reaching as far as he could, he grabbed the edge of the car and managed to hoist himself up and then, with a grunt, over, falling into the rain-drenched gondola. The car swung back and forth. Hutch scrambled for the other side, where he could see Starsky's hands. "Starsk?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

He put both hands on Starsky's arms and pulled. "Try to push with your feet, buddy," he gasped out.

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"There's . . . nothing to push on . . . but air," Starsky answered.

Hutch gave a final, back-wrenching jerk, and Starsky fell into the car, scraping his body across the edge. They both lay panting on the bottom of the gondola. "Hey," Starsky said finally.

"Huh?"

"Did I say . . . it's good to see you."

"Same here," Hutch said. "I sorta missed your ugly mug. Now, how the hell are we going to get down? And please don't suggest jumping."

"Climb, I guess. You got up here, didn't you?"

Hutch sat up, studying his partner, taking in Starsky's trembling hands, bloodshot eyes, and the vacant expression on his face that seemed to come and go without warning. "Hey," he said, "don' t take this the wrong way, but I don't think you can make it."

"No?"

"I mean, you might suddenly decide to take flight or something."

Starsky rubbed his eyes. "You think so?" He bit his lower lip. "Hutch, this'll go away, won't it? I won't always be flipping out, will I? Hell, they'll kick me off the force."

"Of course it'll go away. Soon as we get you to a hospital. You can kick it." Starsky didn't answer; his thoughts seemed to have slipped away again. Hutch sighed. "Well," he said, "we might as well get going. Else we're liable to drown sitting here." He took the cuffs from his pocket. "Time to play Freddie Fireman, I guess." He pulled one end of the cuffs through the front of his belt. "Starsky, let me tell you something." Starsky looked at him blearily, not speaking. "We're going down together. If you decide to take a flying leap or something dumb like that, I probably wouldn't be able to stop you. But I'll be going right along. Understand?"

" . . . yeah . . . ."

Hutch put no faith in the affirmative answer. "Okay. Now, I want you to get on my back. I'm going to attach you with the cuffs. Help me as much as you can, Starsk, or we won't make it."

"Okay."

Hutch turned around and Starsky put both arms over his shoulders. A moment later, the cuffs were snapped around Starsky's wrists and Hutch began to climb out of the car. "You okay?"

"Fine." Starsky giggled. "He ain't heavy; he's my partner."

"Screw that," Hutch muttered. "You may be my partner, but you're still heavy."

"Did'ja ever see that movie?"

Hutch searched for a footrest without looking down. He didn't want to look down. "What movie?"

Starsky was trying to help; he really was. He rested his feet on part of the superstructure, easing his weight on Hutch a little. "BOY'S TOWN," he said. "Spencer Tracy."

They moved downward a little. Hutch's arms felt like they were breaking. "Oh. Yeah, I saw that. A long time ago." A strong blast of wind struck the Ferris wheel and Hutch hung on desperately. In his ear, he could hear the rapid sound of Starsky's breathing.

"They jumped," Starsky said.

Hutch was moving again. "Who jumped?"

"Don't you remember? Butch and Sundance. Remember when they jumped off that cliff?"

"Yeah. But they jumped into the river."

Another giggle. "Well, buddy, if we . . . stay up here a little longer . . . the way it's raining . . . we'll have a river down there."

Hutch felt like giggling himself. Damn . . . I'm getting as flaky as he is.

"Where's Louis?" Starsky whispered into Hutch's ear.

"Don't know."

"He wants to kill you."

"Screw him."

Starsky laughed. "Yeah," he agreed. "Screw him."

Hutch's foot slipped. He felt himself falling and grabbed frantically for support. His hands closed around the length of pipe. He couldn't move for a moment. His head rested against the structure and he closed his eyes. "Ahh, Starsk," he said.

Starsky was very still for a moment, then he whispered again. "Hey," he said into Hutch's ear, "you want to climb on my back for a while?"

"That sounds fair," Hutch replied, moving again. "This partnership is supposed to work both ways, right?"

"Sure. Next week it's your turn to get shot, beat up, and snatched by some freako."

Hutch was beginning to move a little more quickly now, gaining assurance as they neared the ground. "Next week," he said, "I'll probably be back walking a beat. By the time Dobey gets through with me."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't exactly follow procedure, coming out here."

Hutch knew, before Starsky spoke, that his partner's thoughts had drifted away again. He didn't know how he knew it--maybe Starsky's hold on him slackened a little, or perhaps something in the pattern of his breathing changed. "Starsk?"

"About Christmas . . . ." Starsky said, sounding completely rational--except, of course, that they were clinging to a Ferris wheel in the middle of an August thunderstorm and it wasn't exactly the best time to be talking about the Yuletide. "About Christmas," he said again.

"What?"

"Your present . . . in case I . . . don't make it . . . "

"I don't need this kind of conversation right now, buddy," Hutch said.

"Please . . . let me tell you . . . it's on the third shelf in my closet."

"Isn't it a little early to have your Christmas shopping done?" Hutch asked, giving up any attempt to keep the conversation on a rational level.

Starsky giggled. "Yeah . . . but this is special. Can I tell you what it is?"

"I'd rather be surprised." Hutch was wet in places he hadn't known there were places.

"But . . . I want to find out if you like it or not."

"You can find out on Christmas." Starsky was quiet. "Buddy?" Hutch said. "We're almost down. Take it easy, okay?"

Starsky' s head moved from side to side. "Ahh, Kenny," he said. "It's too late. We have to be punished, don't you see? Louis is going to kill us. Because he must. You can understand that, can't you, Kenny?"

"Stop it," Hutch said sharply.

"I'm gonna jump . . . I wanta jump."

"Go right ahead. We'll both go, Starsk. But we're down too low now. It won't kill us. Probably just break a couple of bones. That'll certainly please Louis. Go right ahead and jump."

Starsky didn't answer, but he didn't jump either.

A few minutes later, Hutch's feet hit the ground. They both sat down in the middle of a large puddle. Starsky gave another of his giggles. "Hey, Hutch," he said.

"What?"

"You think Butch and Sundance really started out like this?"

Hutch was already busy unfastening the cuffs. "Probably not," he muttered. "But I think Abbott and Costello did." He stood, pulling Starsky up as well. It was at that moment that he saw Louis standing behind Starsky. Hutch didn't stop to think. That would have given Louis time to act. He simply threw himself at the man. They collided and fell to the ground. Starsky watched with interest as the two of them scuffled in the water and mud. Before he could decide what to do, it was over and Louis was subdued. Hutch snapped the cuffs around Louis' wrist and dragged him over to the Ferris wheel. He shoved him against the base and secured him. Sticking Louis' gun into his own belt, he said, "It's all over."

Louis spit in his face.

Starsky was still watching them, his expression muddled. "Hutch?" he said hesitantly.

"Yeah, buddy, just a minute." He turned to Louis. "You got the key to unlock the chain on his legs?"

Louis nodded sullenly and took the key from his pocket.

"Thank you," Hutch said politely. "I'll be back." He turned and smiled at Starsky. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yes."

Hutch bent and unlocked the chain, tossing it away viciously. "Come on, partner. We're going out to the car and radio for some support."

"Okay," Starsky said. But he didn't move; he just stood there, staring at Louis.

Hutch took his arm gently. "Come on, partner, let's go. It's all over now."

"David," Louis said. "David, don't go with him. He's not your friend. He doesn't care about you, not like I do."

Starsky only shook his head. He came along when Hutch gave a gentle pull to his arm. They could hear Louis yelling behind them as they left the park and walked toward the car. The rain hadn't let up at all, but they hardly even noticed it any more. Still, the car seemed a lot farther away than it had when Hutch parked it.

When they finally reached the car, Hutch opened the door and Starsky crawled in wearily. Hutch got in as well, slammed the door closed, and picked up the microphone. "Zebra 3 to headquarters." There was only static. Hutch swore. "Zebra 3 to headquarters." Nothing. "We're probably out of range," he said. "Especially with the storm." He tried again. "Officers need assistance." Damn . . . should be able to get the Highway Patrol . . . somebody. But all he got was static.

Starsky was leaning against the seat, watching him. "What'll we do?" he asked sleepily.

"Well . . . guess we'll just have to take him in on our own." He grimaced. "Hell, Dobey is going to crucify me anyway." He replaced the mike. "Look, you stay here. Maybe try to radio again. I'll go get him."

Something flickered through Starsky' s eyes. "Hutch?" he said.

Hutch, already sliding out of the car, stopped and turned to look at his partner. "Hey," he said softly. "It's okay. I'll be right back." He touched Starsky's arm lightly. "All right? Trust me?"

Starsky's eyes were half-closed. "If I can't trust you," he murmured, "I might as well give up, right?"

"Right." Hutch smiled. "Be back soon."

"Yeah . . . see you, hot shot."

Hutch got out of the car, shut the door, and started trudging back toward the entrance to Funland. It was almost over. Pretty soon, they would be home. He could have a cup of hot mint tea. Maybe a shot of Irish whiskey. He would take a long, steamy shower. And then he would fall into bed and sleep for a week. And when he woke up, he could pick up the phone and call Starsk and Starsk would answer.

Hutch almost smiled.

**

Louis kept yelling until they were out of sight. Then he smiled. Oh, Kenny, how did you ever get to be a cop? I thought cops had to be smart, but you aren't so very smart. You make a lot of mistakes. He reached with his free hand and pulled another key out of his pocket. It was the key that had once belonged to Ptl. Richard McGowan. So, Richard, you're still helping me. Thank you. It took only a moment for Louis to free himself.

He ran over to the generator shack and picked up a piece of pipe, hefting it thoughtfully. It was satisfactory. He walked back to the Ferris wheel and stood patiently waiting in the darkness.

It seemed only a moment before he saw Kenny coming back. Kenny had his head ducked to keep the rain out of his face, and so he obviously didn't realize that Louis was no longer where he'd been left. At the last moment, he looked up, saw the empty cuff, and stiffened.

The pipe crashed down on his head and he crumpled to the ground.

He listened to the sound of the rain for a long time before finally opening his eyes. His eyes, in fact, seemed to be the only part of his body that could move. His hands and feet were tied securely.

For several minutes, he studied the painted baroque ceiling and the gaudy posters of dancing girls that adorned the walls surrounding the stage on which he lay. One faded poster eloquently proclaimed the charms of Little Egypt. The smell of musty velvet permeated the air. "So," he said finally, "what now, Louis?"

Louis spoke from somewhere behind him. "It's time for your punishment, Kenny," he said. "Once you've been punished, I can rest. I'm so very tired, Kenny."

"What about Starsky?"

"David? Well, I haven't made up my mind about him yet. I suppose he's still waiting for you in the car. I'll take care of him later. Right now, it's just you and me."

Hutch tried to move his arms and legs, but he was held fast. "Have I been out a long time?"

"Oh, yes. A couple of hours."

What's happening to Starsk? Louis was behind him, doing something Hutch couldn't see. But he could smell the unmistakable odor of gasoline. "Louis, you're wrong. I had nothing to do with what happened to your sister."

"Don't lie, Kenny. Marcie told me."

Hutch could hear the sloshing sound of liquid being poured. "What are you going to do?"

Louis came into his line of sight, carrying a red gas can. "Remember BEAU GESTE?"

"What?"

"It was an old movie all about the French Foreign Legion."

Starsk probably saw it, Hutch thought. "What about it?"

Louis began to pour gasoline on the chairs that circled the stage. "The hero got a Viking's funeral."

The fumes were beginning to make Hutch nauseous. "Oh. Yeah, I remember that movie." He shifted uncomfortably. "Am I the hero in this story?"

"Yes, of course." Louis sounded surprised at the question. "You've always been the hero, haven't you?"

Hutch tried to keep the very real fear he was feeling from showing in his voice. "Louis, don't do this. We can get help for you. Please, you don't have to do this."

"Don't beg, Kenny. You have to die, so don't beg. Beau Geste didn't beg."

Hutch closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and spoke quietly. "I'm not Beau Geste and this isn't some goddamned movie. This is real life, I'm Kenneth Hutchinson, and I don't want to die."

The gas can was empty and Louis tossed it aside. "I hope you're not going to disappoint me, Kenny. I thought you'd be much braver than this. David was brave; he never begged."

Hutch tried to breath through his mouth so that he wouldn't have to smell the fumes. "I'm not begging," he said finally.

Louis stepped up onto the stage and crouched next to Hutch. "Good."

Hutch began to realize that he was going to die. Well, nobody lived forever. Maybe there was one thing he could do first, though . . . "Louis?"

His captor was spreading red velvet neatly over the stage. "Yes, Kenny?"

"You won't kill Starsky, will you? He wasn't a part of all this. Why kill him?"

Louis carefully spread the velvet over Hutch. "You don't want me to kill David?"

"No. Please."

Louis smiled. "Are you begging?"

It didn't bother Hutch now. "Yes," he said, "I'm begging. Don't kill him."

With tender solicitude, Louis tucked the old stage drapery around Hutch. "Well, you mustn't worry about it, Kenny. David is my responsibility now. I'll take care of him." The drapery covered everything except Hutch's head. Beneath the heavy fabric, he was drenched in sweat. Louis carefully wiped the rivulets of moisture from Hutch's face. "I'm sorry it's so hot. But I thought that the velvet was important. Sort of regal, don't you think?" I want you to die in a manner that befits you." The stilted words sounded strangely sincere.

"Thank you," Hutch said.

Louis looked at him sadly. "Oh, Kenny . . . if you had only been my friend. It would have been so much easier." Again, he wiped at the sweat, pushing Hutch's hair back from his face. "I think I could even have forgiven what you did to Marcie, if you'da been my friend."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." Louis sighed. "It's time now, Kenny. Good-bye."

Hutch didn't answer. He stared at Louis.

Louis got to his feet wearily and walked off the stage to the door. There, he stopped and turned around to face Hutch. "Are there any words I should say, Kenny?"

"No." Oh, god, Hutch thought. Oh, god . . . I don't want to die like this . . . not all alone like this . . . I'm sorry, Starsk, for screwing up your itinerary . . . it really was a great itinerary . . . oh hell . . . oh hell . . . I wonder if it hurts. Probably the smoke will kill me before the fire even gets here . . . that's good . . . I wish . . . I wish . . . oh god, there's so much I wish . . . oh, Starsk . . . .

He watched, weirdly fascinated, as Louis took a box of matches from his pocket. Beneath the velvet drapes, Hutch was shivering uncontrollably.

~~~

Starsky was getting scared.

He'd slept for a while after Hutch left; how long he didn't know, but it seemed like a long time. Time enough, anyway, for Hutch to have gotten back. But there was still no sign of his partner coming across the parking lot.

He reached for the radio again. "Anybody there?" he mumbled for the hundredth time. "Help, please, anybody. Hutch isn't back yet. Hey, isn't anybody listening?" He waited, but there was still nothing but static in reply. After a moment, he sighed and gave up. What next? Well, Hutch might get mad but he just couldn't sit here waiting anymore. He had to go find out what was taking so long.

The rain had nearly stopped. Starsky got out of the car and walked across the puddle-filled parking lot. He tried not to think of all the things that could have happened to Hutch. But as he walked, his heart began to pound fearfully. Louis had made so many threats. Louis was . . . evil. Starsky began to walk faster and faster, so that by the time he reached the entrance to the park, he was running.

"HUTCH!" he yelled, leaning against the front gate. "HUTCH!" There was no answer and so he went into the park. His bare feet made squishing noises against the wet asphalt.

Suddenly he saw Louis run out of a bright pink stucco building. As he watched, Louis struck a match and tossed it back through the doorway. There was a sudden whoosh of flames. "What the hell . . . ?" Starsky mumbled; then, suddenly, he knew. He ran over to Louis and grabbed him with both hands. "Where's Hutch?" he shouted. "Where is he?"

Louis' face was tranquil. "Having his Viking's funeral. He's the hero, so it's right that he should die this way."

Starsky spun around; he could see flames inside the building and feel the heat beginning to emanate. "Oh god," he whispered. "Oh, god, no."

"Don't worry, David," Louis said. "I'll take care of you. You can be my friend now."

With a low moan, Starsky pushed Louis aside and ran toward the building. Louis fell to the ground. "No, David!" he yelled. "Don't go in there. That's not for you! It's for Kenny! Just Kenny! It's his!"

Starsky didn't even hear him. He hesitated only a bare moment when he reached the doorway, then took a deep breath and plunged through the flames. "HUTCH! HUTCH!"

He reached the center of the room, where the flames had not yet penetrated, and saw Hutch lying in the middle of a low stage. With one leap, he was on the stage, bending over Hutch. "Hutch?" he said, gasping for air. "Please, don't . . . don't be dead . . . please . . . ."

"Starsk . . . ."

The acrid smoke made tears pour from Starsky's eyes. "Hold on, buddy, hold on." He jerked aside the heavy curtain and began to tug at the ropes binding Hutch. "Hold on, hold on," he kept saying over and over and over.

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"Get out, Starsk," Hutch mumbled. "Go . . . ."

Starsky had Hutch's feet free and was trying to release his arms. "Not without you."

The flames were nearing the stage. Hutch coughed as his lungs filled with smoke. "Ahh, Starsk," he managed to say. "Not you . . . not you, too."

Starsky shook his head fiercely. "One way or another, we go . . . out of here together." He rubbed at his burning eyes with the back of one hand. "Who else would want one of the last . . . of the autographed copies of that damned Buddy Holly album?" He pulled at the ropes. "Took me a year to find it." He coughed. "For Christmas."

Hutch could feel the blackness closing in on him as Starsky pulled the last of the ropes away. He reached out to touch Starsky. "You're a . . . crazy son of a bitch," he whispered.

"Yeah, I know." He kicked away the drapery. "Hutch?" There was no response. "Okay," he said. "Okay." He grabbed one of the curtains and wrapped Hutch in it. Then he took another and pulled it over his own head and shoulders. The flames were crackling very nearby and a large piece of ceiling fell with a crash. "Here we go," he said, lifting Hutch.

As they headed toward the door, flames licked at the heavy velvet and the thick smoke making it nearly impossible to see. The weight of Hutch in his arms kept Starsky from moving very quickly. He tripped over a piece of timber and fell to his knees, nearly dropping Hutch, but managing to hold on. He ducked his head and took a couple of deep breaths, inhaling the odor of old velvet and his own stinking body. "Okay," he mumbled. "Okay, buddy, I gotcha, I gotcha." They moved again.

After what seemed like millennia spent in the bowels of hell, he burst through the door and into the fresh rain-soaked air. He kept moving until they were well-clear of the building and then he collapsed to his knees. More tears coursed down his face as he frantically pulled the cover away from Hutch. His partner's face was ashy white. Dead looking. "Hutch?" he said softly. "We're out . . . we made it. Hutch?"

Hutch didn't move.

"Jesus," Starsky said. "Hutch? Answer me, damnit." He shook Hutch gently, then more fiercely. "Damnit, don't you be dead. Hutch?" He leaned forward and rested his cheek against Hutch's hair. "Please. . . . " He saw Louis watching. "You," he said bleakly. "You did this . . . I told you not to hurt him." His eyes went back to Hutch's too-still face. "I told you not to hurt him." Gently, Starsky rested Hutch against the ground.

He gave an unholy, wordless moan and launched himself at Louis, who just stood there watching, making no move to defend himself. Starsky hit him like a cannonball and they both fell to the ground. "Goddamn you," Starsky said hoarsely. "I'll kill you . . . I'll kill you." He grabbed for the gun that Louis had dropped and his fingers closed around it. A feeling of power surged through him at the familiar feel of cold metal in his hand. "I told you, didn't I?" He put the barrel of the gun to Louis' forehead.

Louis didn't speak or move.

"Starsk . . . ."

Hutch's voice was only a raspy whisper, but it reached Starsky. He looked up. "Hutch?" he said. "I thought . . . ."

"Don't do that, Starsk," Hutch said. "Don't kill him."

The flames from the burning building cast dancing lights over the tableau of Starsky and Louis. Starsky shook his head. "He hurt you . . . almost killed you. I told him . . . I warned him that if he hurt you, I'd kill him." His hand trembled on the gun.

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"Starsk, you're not a murderer. He's sick, very sick. You can't shoot him."

"He hurt you," Starsky repeated dully.

Hutch was moving toward them slowly, crawling on the wet ground. "If you kill him, you'll never forgive yourself. You'll be a different person."

"I don't . . . understand," Starsky said. He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog.

"You would destroy David Starsky. You'd be lost . . . that would hurt me, buddy, more than anything he could do." He reached them and held out one hand. "Don't destroy yourself, Starsk. Please. I need you."

Starsky stared at him for a long time. "Hutch?" he whispered. "I . . . oh, damnit." He handed the gun to his partner.

Hutch sighed. "Thanks, buddy," he said. "Thank you."

Starsky got to his feet and walked over to the nearest building. He slumped against the wall, burying his face in his arms.

Louis sat up. Hutch held the gun on him steadily. "Don't even think about moving," he said, hoping he sounded a hell of a lot tougher than he felt.

"No. I won't." Louis took off his glasses and tried to clean them on his wet shirt. "Thanks for what you did."

Hutch cleared his throat and spit. "Don't thank me," he said flatly. "I did it for him, not for you. You're not worth it." He thought that he could hear the sound of sirens approaching and he raised his head to listen. "I think we're about to have company." Not taking his gaze from Louis, he scooted over and sat next to Starsky. "Here comes the cavalry," he said.

Starsky nodded and leaned against Hutch's shoulder. They sat silently waiting. A few minutes later, several black-and-whites and a county sheriff's car raced into the park, lights flashing and sirens sounding. Hutch watched as Dobey climbed out of one of the cars and walked quickly over. "Cap," he said. "Hi."

"Hutchinson." He looked at Starsky. "He okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay. Starsky is okay." He handed Dobey the gun. "If you'll give us a hand, we're ready to go home."

"Are you?" Dobey rumbled.

Starsky, his eyes closed, gave a small grin. "Yeah." Two of the uniformed officers helped them up. Dobey tried to put Hutch into one car and Starsky into another, so that they could lie down, but Hutch shook his head firmly and pulled Starsky into the back seat with him. Dobey didn't argue the point.

Starsky let himself relax against the padded seat. It felt very safe here. "Cap," he murmured as the car began to move.

"What?"

"If you put Hutch back walking a beat . . . you have to put me there, too. We go . . . together."

"Yes," Dobey said glumly. "I know that. Nobody else would want you."

Hutch smiled. "How'd you find us?" he asked, his throat hurting with the effort.

"Through Miss Corby. After you ditched the tail, I did some checking and found out she had spoken to you."

Starsky was almost asleep, but one blue eye opened a little. "You oughta be a detective, Cap," he said and then he giggled.

**

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -

"Starsk?" There was no answer. Hutch stepped into the room. "Hey, How you doing, huh? They say you're much better." He came closer bed. "I've been after them for two days to let me come see you, but said I had to wait until . . . until all the drugs were out of your system. Guess it was kinda rough for awhile, right? I know what that's like. Of course, I had your help when it happened to me." He took a deep breath. "I tried to get in here."

Starsky's face was pale and bruised, but he smiled a little. "I know. The nurses told me. Said you were a real pain in the butt."

"Well, I did my best," Hutch said grinning. "So. How're you feeling."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Sure. I'm fine. How's your head? They told me you had a concussion."

"Good as new."

They were silent for a time. "Well, so much for the medical reports," Starsky said finally. He was staring at the edge of the blanket.

Hutch reached over to pour himself a glass of ice water. He tried not to look at Starsky's arm, which was still a mass of bruises. "You want company in here? They said I could switch rooms now."

Starsky shrugged.

"Maybe you'd rather be by yourself." He tried to remember what the doctor had told him about not overreacting to Starsky's moodiness.

"No. Move in. If you want to."

"Okay. Well, sure, I want to. The old guy they've got me with now talks about his gout and his grandchildren all day and snores all night."

Again, Starsky made the effort to smile. "I snore, too."

"I'm used to your snoring. He sounds like a bull elephant in rut."

"What's happened to him?" There was no need for Starsky to say who he was talking about.

"He's out at Cabrillo State."

Starsky held out his hand. "Could I have some of that water?"

"Sure." Hutch handed him the glass and watched as he sipped. "You want to talk about it? he asked quietly.

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Starsky took a deep breath. "I don't know."

"Might help."

"Are you sure you want to listen?"

"Why not? What's a partner for?"

Starsky handed him back the glass. "Maybe you don't want me for a partner anymore," he said, not looking at Hutch.

Hutch set the glass on the nightstand. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that. . . . . Hutch, I almost killed him. Murdered him."

"Ahh, Starsk . . . ."

"It's true. I wanted to kill him."

"But you didn't."

"But I wanted to. And I would have, if you hadn't stopped me."

Hutch spoke carefully. "Starsky, you were pumped full of drugs; you didn't know what you were doing."

Starsky shook his head. "No. That's not good enough. I knew. I knew what I was doing."

"Everybody wants to kill at some point. I've felt like it a couple of times."

"But you never would have."

"Neither would you."

"Yes," Starsky said, nearly shouting. "Damnit, Hutch, aren't you listening to me at all? I wanted to kill Louis; I would have blown his brains out if you hadn't stopped me. I would have done it."

"Okay," Hutch said soothingly. "Okay, Starsk."

"Okay?" Starsky echoed. "Oh, sure, Hutch. That's just fine. I'm no better than he is."

"That's not true," Hutch said sharply. "Damnit, Starsk, the circumstances were--"

"I know what the circumstances were." He clenched his fists. "Damnit, the circumstances shouldn't matter. I'm supposed to be a cop. I would have killed him," he said again.

Hutch said nothing.

"Did you tell Dobey what happened?"

"No. I didn't think it was important. I just told him you subdued Louis. The rest . . . well, I didn't think it mattered. It doesn't matter."

"Let's keep the family skeleton in the closet, huh?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." Starsky was quiet for a moment. "Is that enough secrets or do you want to hear one more?"

"What?"

Starsky's eyes were darkened to blue-black. "I'd do it again. In the same circumstances." Hutch only looked at him. "And if . . . if you aren't there to talk me out of it . . . that scares me, Hutch. Does it scare you?"

"No." Hutch shook his head. "No, because I don't think you'd do it."

"Yeah?" Starsky smiled bitterly. "Don't have so much faith in me."

Hutch rested one hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Besides, I'll be there."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"What if I . . . what if I had pulled the trigger? What if I had killed him? Would you still be here?" His words were said softly.

Hutch didn't answer quickly. His fingers tightened on Starsky's shoulder. "Yes."

"For sure?"

"For sure."

They looked at one another for a long moment. Starsky seemed to be searching Hutch's face for something. Whatever he found there apparently satisfied him, because he relaxed against the bed a little. Still, his eyes were shadowed. "I thought . . . I thought maybe you'd hate me."

Hutch cleared his throat. "Hell, man. No." He got to his feet. "Well, guess I'll go get my toothbrush and stuff." It was a question the way he said it.

"Yeah," Starsky said. "Think we can get a TV in here?"

"I'll find out." He hesitated. "Be right back."

Starsky nodded and smiled. Hutch left. Starsky's smile slowly faded and he bit his lower lip. Hutch understands, he thought. It's all right, 'cause he understands. But he was still scared and he knew that the fear would never go away.

**

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Hutch was whistling as he came into the squad room. One of the policewomen on her way out looked at him skeptically. "On a Monday," she said, "nobody should be that cheerful."

He grinned. "You're right. Sorry."

He sat down at his desk and picked up some memos to read. His eyes, however, kept wandering in the direction of the door. After about fifteen minutes, a familiar T-shirt-clad figure hurried past the window and into the squad room. Hutch looked at him and shook his head. "Your first day back on duty in two weeks and you come in late?"

Starsky scowled. "Damned alarm didn't go off. I didn't even have time for breakfast. And the candy machine in the hallway is busted again. I 'm starving." He searched through the drawers of his desk and came up empty-handed. "Coulda sworn I left half a peanut bar in here." He glared darkly at his partner. "Bet you ate it while I was out."

"Fat chance. Probably the mice got it."

"Mice," Starsky said with dignity, "do not eat peanuts."

"Must have been the elephants, then."

Several days at the beach had tanned Starsky' s face and he appeared to be fully recovered from the effects of the drugs. Only Hutch saw the faint shadow left in his eyes and that, he knew, had nothing to do with the drugs. "I can't work on an empty stomach, Hutch," he said pitifully.

Something clicked in Hutch's brain. "Aha! I've got it."

"What?"

"I come to your rescue again." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a neatly wrapped package. "Here."

"What is it?" Starsky asked suspiciously.

"Cookies. Homemade cookies."

"Oh, yeah?" He grinned and pulled open the wrapping. "Chocolate chip. My favorite. Thanks, buddy." He took one cookie and practically put it into his mouth whole. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble," he said around the cookie.

"Oh, I didn't," Hutch replied.

Starsky's expression was slowly changing. He swallowed the cookie quickly and grabbed Hutch's coffee cup. He gulped. "God, that was terrible. Where'd those cookies come from?"

"Miss Corby. She brought them by especially for you."

"The old lady? The one who told you where I was at?"

"That's the one."

"Oh." Starsky looked at the rest of the cookies. "I guess she helped save my life, didn't she?"

Hutch nodded. "I'd say so. In fact, I called her and told her that. Thanked her for both of us. "

"Good." Starsky shoved the cookies away and picked up some memos of his own. He shook his head. "That's weird."

"What, partner?"

"Why would she help save my life like that and then try to poison me with her cookies?" His tone was aggrieved.

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Hutch began to laugh. Everyone in the room turned to look at him and he slumped into his chair, trying to control himself, but the laughter wouldn't stop. Starsky turned his blue gaze toward Hutch. "You're a little weird yourself. I don't know what's so funny about me being poisoned by some crazy old lady."

Tears were rolling down Hutch's face as he tried to stop laughing. Starsky watched him a moment longer and then shrugged. He began to read the top memo. As he read, one hand went absently to the cookie package, took out one cookie and began to eat it slowly.

Hutch couldn't stand it. He jumped up and ran out of the room, holding his stomach, still laughing. Starsky glanced up curiously as he partner exited. "I think he needs a vacation," he said to the room at large. Then he reached for another cookie.

~~~

You held my hand when it was cold,
When I was lost, you took me home,
You gave me hope when I was at the end,
And turned my lies back into truth again;
You even called me friend
You needed me . . . .
You needed me.
               GOODRUM

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