Title:               Borrowed Time

Authors:          Beth A & Mystic Whim

Gen:                Slash

Rating:            PG-17

Description:    Starsky has a hard time dealing when Hutch becomes sick.

Category:       Committee Relationship, Post SR, Starsky Angst, Hutch H/C

Borrowed Time

by Beth A & Mystic Whim

May, 1984

<Whoosh>

The sound of a flushing toilet and then running water woke Starsky up.  Gathering his bearings, he looked at the glowing red numbers on the bedside table.  1:15?  What the…?

Rolling over and squinting his eyes at the light streaming from the master bathroom’s doorway, Starsky realized that the other side of the expansive bed was empty of its other occupant.  He raised himself on his lower arms, the white sheet falling down his chest in a single fluid motion.

“Hutch?”  There was no response, other than the swishing sound of brushing teeth.  “Hutch, babe?”  He asked again.

“Be right there,” came the soft response from the small bathroom.  A few minutes later the click of the light was heard as it turned off, and Hutch padded out dressed in his thin, light blue cotton pajama pants.  He slowly, almost achingly, lowered himself to a seated position on his side of the bed.  Resting a few seconds, he lifted his long legs and settled back on his pillow, pulling the sheet and thin blanket up to his neck.

Starsky watched Hutch’s slow, labored movements.  The way Hutch was moving made him uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why.  In the dim moonlight reflected through the window, he could see that the tips of the head of blond hair were limp and Hutch’s bangs were damp, as if he had washed or thrown water on his face.  “Everything okay?”  His lover’s eyes were closed as if in rest, but the tenseness of his face belied any impression of relaxation Hutch was trying to convey.

“Just tired.”

Sensing Starsky studying him for a few more minutes, Hutch mumbled for his lover to go back to sleep.  However, it took more than an hour for Starsky to go back to sleep.  There was something wrong…something he couldn’t put his finger on.  But he was sure it had to do with Hutch.

All throughout the next day Starsky kept a furtive eye on his partner.

And each time Hutch stretched his back, sniffled, or coughed, Starsky watched him.  Throughout lunch- of which Hutch ate little, while preparing reports, sitting in Dobey’s office.  Little nuances to Hutch’s behavior began to concern him; the apparent sluggishness in his movements, the tired eyes, lack of appetite, and continued coughing.

“Hutch,” Starsky had ended up driving Hutch’s car home, as his partner had started to fall asleep at his desk.  “I know you don’t wanna hear this.”

“Then don’t say it.”  He spoke without opening his eyes.

“You need to take a day off buddy and rejuvenate.”

Opening his eyes and looking over at his partner Hutch retorted, “Says who?”

“For cryin’ out loud, Hutch!  It’s obvious you’re not feelin’ good.  Why’d you gotta act the martyr all the time?”  Starsky lowered the pitch of his voice.  “Do it for me, babe.  Please.”   Starsky’s azure blue eyes pleaded for understanding.

Hutch closed his eyes in weariness.  “I’m just so tired.”

“See?  You’re not feeling well.  You’ve been suffering with this flu and you got sick last night didn’t you?”

Hesitatingly the blond head nodded once, then fell back against the dark green seats of his 1978 Olds 98.

A quiet evening of snuggling on the couch reading was followed by a night of mild lovemaking.  Enough to relax both men to a deep sleep.  In the morning, Starsky was careful not to wake his sleeping partner while he got ready for work.  Knowing that if Hutch woke he’d probably change his mind and insist on going to work.

There wasn’t much to accomplish at the precinct, other than making some bureaucrat happy by filling in missing information and making sure reports were in order for upcoming cases.

Perusing his reports, while sipping the just brewed hot coffee, Starsky was unaware of his captain’s approach from behind until the larger man peered over his shoulder to get a view of his detective’s activities.

“Where’s your partner?”  Captain Dobey boomed into Starsky’s right ear.

“Not here.”

“Obviously.”  He lowered his voice and let some concern show through.  “Look, Starsky I wanted to talk to you about Hutchinson.  He hasn’t looked well the last several weeks.  He’s coming into work sick, and he could infect the entire squad.”

The curled head lifted to look Dobey in the eye.  “I know Cap’n.  I finally convinced him to take a day off and stay at home today to get some rest.  He’s getting all run down with the work on the house.  Feels like he’s got to do it all himself.”

“Good.  And if he doesn’t get any better, get him to see a doctor.  We need all the good men we can get – but healthy.”  With that Dobey stepped back into his office, but left the door open where he could keep an eye on the men under his supervision.

Starsky only called his partner once, at lunch, to check on him.  A sluggish voice greeted him on the phone and assured Starsky that ‘yes, he had eaten lunch’ and ‘yes, mother, he was resting.’  Hanging up the phone, he felt more confident that Hutch would be fine with some R&R.

Unbeknownst to the darker haired partner, Hutch hadn’t eaten anything.  He hung up the phone on the nightstand and rolled back over onto his side, but couldn’t get comfortable.  Everything ached, and he felt like he was running a fever.  I’ll get up in a bit to eat, so I technically didn’t lie to Starsky.  Soon he fell back into an uneasy sleep.

As soon as he got off work, Starsky rushed home to their simple frame home.  Knowing Hutch, he probably has dinner already done and has been puttering around in the yard, not getting much rest.  But when he arrived at the blue-trimmed house, everything was quiet.  No dinner cooking or sitting on the kitchen table.  No gardening tools lying around the yard.  Hutch’s lime green car was still in its usual place on the street.

“Hutch?”  Starsky removed his jacket, hanging it up in the front closet.  He walked up to their bedroom to put his gun and holster away, and there was Hutch still asleep on the bed, huddled under the covers.  By the grimace on his face, the movement under his lids, and the light sheen of sweat; Starsky could tell it was a restless sleep.  Starsky went to the bathroom and rinsed out a washcloth, bringing it back to the bedroom and began to swab Hutch’s face, neck and chest with it.

The ministration brought Hutch out of his uneasy slumber, eyelids fluttering lightly as he struggled to focus on the hovering individual.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“You get off early?”

“No Blintz.  It’s 7:30.  You been sleepin’ all this time?”

Lifting his head, Hutch looked out the window to see that Starsky was right, the skyline was bright orange and pink as the sun began its daily descent into the horizon.  “Shit.  I can’t believe I slept all day.”

Putting the washcloth on the nightstand, Starsky grasped his woozy partner’s upper arm to help him sit up.  “Hey, it’s okay.  You obviously needed it.”

Looking into the concerned face, Hutch apologized for not having any dinner ready or any housework done.  “If I’m off for the day, the least I could do is help around here a bit.”  He looked around the room as if searching for something and then back up at Starsky.  “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

Attempting to make light, Starsky replied with a grin, “We’re hot together babe.”  All joking aside, he put the back of his hand on Hutch’s forehead.  “You’re not running a fever, but you are sweating.  How’s your chest feel?”

Several deep breaths indicated to Starsky that Hutch’s chest cold appeared to be cleared up.  “Probably too many covers.  Lay back down and I’ll give you a nice sponge bath.”

“You just wanna take advantage of me,” complained Hutch, but he complied anyway.

“You got it, babe.  Now lay your sweet ass down and let me do all the work.”  Starsky moved the washcloth down Hutch’s chest and under his arms.  He froze.  Beneath his fingertips, between Hutch’s skin and the cloth, he felt a mass.  Not very large, maybe the size of a garbanzo bean, but it was hard.  “Hutch?  What’s this?”  Fingers prodded around the nodule gently.

“Hmmm..what?”  He reached over where Starsky’s fingers were prodding to feel for himself.  “I don’t know.  Probably swollen glands from this flu.”

The lush mouth above him pursed downward.  “Well I don’t like it.  You’re gonna see a doctor as soon as you can get an appointment.  And those aren’t just my orders, they’re Dobey’s too.”

“Terrific.” Hutch mumbled Starsky’s favorite word in defeat.

********

Dr. Anthony Casciaro’s stark white lab coat contrasted drastically with his deep tan and his dark Italian good looks.  His warm eyes and easy going manner quickly put people at ease.  Walking into his small exam room, he gave his new patient a confident smile. 

“Hello Ken.  Looks like you are one of the patients I inherited from Dr. Flannigan when he retired.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  What brings you here today?”   He looked over the man sitting on his table as he offered his hand to shake.  The first thing he noticed was the dark circles under Hutch’s tired eyes, and the red blotches on his skin.

Hutch returned the doctor’s firm handshake.  “I’ve got a persistent case of the flu that I can’t seem to get over.  It’s been wearing me down for several weeks now, and I’m starting to wonder if I need antibiotics or something to beat this thing.” 

“The problem is that antibiotics may not help.  Some flu viruses don’t respond to them.”  He sat on the rolling stool beside the gurney that Hutch was sitting upon.  “Why don’t you tell me what sort of symptoms you’ve been dealing with?”

“I had a stomach flu several weeks ago, and I’ve never gotten over it.  I still have trouble with fever, especially at night.  I’m very tired, as if I can never get enough sleep, I have a persistent cough, and I feel achy.  And lately I’ve developed this annoying itch, all over.”

Dr. Casciaro took Hutch’s arm in his hands and carefully looked over the blotchy patches and the harsh scratches.  He jotted down notes in his folder as he asked, “You say this started with a stomach flu?  Is your stomach still giving you problems, too?”

“Not really, but I haven’t had much of an appetite since this began.  It’s like I’m too tired to eat.  Oh, and I had a couple beers the other night and it made me sick to my stomach.  I guess my stomach hasn’t completely recovered yet.”  Suddenly Hutch remembered the lump under his arm that had concerned Starsky.  “I also have this lump,” he pointed to the raised spot.  I think it’s just swollen glands, but it’s pretty swollen.”

The doctor put down his folder and felt the area that Hutch had indicated.  He then proceeded to check the glands at his neck, and the opposite underarm.  “How long has it been swollen like this?”

Hutch shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  I just found the lump yesterday.  It may have been there prior to that but I just didn’t notice it before.  I did notice that when I drink alcohol, the area hurts.  It’s been doing that for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks is a long time to have swollen glands,” the doctor mused.  He took out the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around Hutch’s arm.  “What sort of work do you do?”

“I’m a police officer.  A detective for the BCPD.”

The doctor’s eyebrows raised.  “Do you ever work with the HazMat team?”

Hutch shook his head, surprised at the question.  “No, why?”

“I wondered if you had exposure to toxic chemicals.”  He continued to examine Hutch’s eyes and ears.  “Have you ever had mononucleosis, Ken?”

“Yes, about a year ago.  Starsky and I both had it.”

“Starsky?” the doctor asked.

“He’s my partner,” Hutch explained.

“Your sexual partner?”

Hutch smiled nervously.  “Yes, and my professional partner as well.  He’s also a detective.”

Dr. Casciaro continued his exam, looking into Hutch’s mouth, then listening to his chest.  He had Hutch lay back, and began to push and prod at his abdomen.  “Have you been sleeping well?”

“I sleep alright, but I can’t seem to get enough,” Hutch admitted.  “I’m always exhausted.”

The doctor finished his exam, then sat back on the corner of the desk and made his notes in the folder.  “I don’t think this is a flu we’re dealing with here, Ken.  It’s possible that you have more than one health issue.  I’d like to run some tests.  First some blood tests.  I’d like to check your red and white blood cells, and test for anemia.  I’d also like to run an AIDS test…”

“AIDS?” Hutch exclaimed.  “Since Starsky and I were never involved in a homosexual relationship before, I didn’t think we were at high risk for that disease.”

The doctor raised his hands in a calming gesture.  “Relax, I doubt this is AIDS we’re dealing with.  It’s just a precautionary measure.  Doctors are kind of like detectives in a way.  We need to look at all the possibilities and go through the process of elimination.  AIDS can start with flu-like symptoms, though as a general rule they don’t continue this long.  I would just rather play it safe.  I don’t just test my homosexual patients.  Contrary to what the newspapers say, the disease is not limited to gays or intravenous drug users.”

Hutch felt a chill crawl up his skin at the words ‘intravenous drug users’.  He reluctantly told the doctor about his ordeal at the hands of Ben Forest, in which he was kidnapped, beaten and injected with heroin, in order to extract information from him.  The doctor listened with empathy, offering a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder after he finished his story.

“Ken, I don’t think you need to worry about contracting AIDS from that experience.  That was several years before the first case of AIDS was diagnosed in Los Angeles.  The chances of those needles being contaminated are extremely remote.  But we’ll run the test anyhow, and if nothing else it may serve to ease your concerns.”  After Hutch nodded his assent, the doctor continued, “I do want to order a needle aspiration done on that swollen gland.  And I’ll have them do a skin scrape to find out if your itching is due to parasites, such as scabies.”

“A needle aspiration?  You’re ordering a biopsy?” Hutch asked.

“Again, it’s just precautionary.”  He smiled, “We’ll gather all our evidence and clues and see if we can solve this mystery.”

Hutch grinned.  “We don’t really talk like that, you know.”

“Yeah, and doctors don’t really say ‘take two aspirins and call me in the morning.’”  Both men chuckled.  “Our lab is on the sixth floor.  You can go straight up as soon as we’re finished here.”  He filled out some forms and gave them to Hutch.  “My nurse will give you a call as soon as all the results are in, and we’ll schedule an appointment then for you to come back and go over the results.  It’ll likely be a couple days.”

Upstairs, the lab technician took three small vials of blood from Hutch’s left arm.  For the biopsy, she numbed under his arm with a local anesthetic, and he felt little discomfort when the needle was inserted.  The small sample was taken, and he was bandaged. The skin test was quick and easy, just a simple scrape.

It took less than five minutes, but the results would not be available for a day or two.  Hutch sighed when told, wondering why the medical establishment could collect samples so quickly, but not notify the patient in a more timely manner.  He reminded himself that at last he would finally be getting some answers, even if it did take another couple days.

********

Hutch curled up on the couch, exhausted from the trip to Dr. Casciaro’s office.  He was sound asleep when Starsky came home from work. 

Starsky bent over him, gently putting his palm to Hutch’s forehead to check for fever, and to wipe the damp hair from his face.  He tenderly stroked Hutch’s heated skin, brushing the perspiration away.

Roused from his slumber by Starsky’s caresses, Hutch gave a sleepy grin and started to get up.

“Don’t get up, love,” Starsky whispered.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hutch groggily patted the couch cushion, inviting Starsky to sit down.  When he did so, Hutch curled up beside him, his face resting on Starsky’s lap.  “Mmmm,” he purred.

“Did you get in to see the doctor today?” Starsky asked quietly.

Hutch nodded.

“So is it the flu?”

Hutch shrugged.  “Don’t know.  He ran a bunch of tests.  Very thorough.  Blood tests, skin scrape, needle aspiration…,” his sleepy voice trailed off.

Starsky smiled.  He was relieved that Hutch was finally getting this taken care of.  Sitting back, he absently ran his fingers through Hutch’s hair.  He hadn’t wanted to admit to Hutch how uneasy he had been feeling about this illness of his.  Wanting to question him further about the tests, he looked down, only to find that Hutch had already fallen back to sleep.  Starsky grinned and settled back, determined not to disturb him again.

During the night, Starsky had coaxed Hutch into bed.  The sick man had been so tired of late that he didn’t fully wake up.  He slid between the cool sheets and sighed, falling instantly back into a deep sleep.  Starsky spooned up behind him, protectively wrapping his arm around him.

The following morning, Hutch awoke feeling more energetic than he had in weeks.  Waking before the alarm, he snuggled into the warmth of the body that was still wrapped lovingly around him.

Reaching back, he ran his hand along the length of Starsky’s thigh, caressing from the inside of his knee up the back of his thigh to the soft round curve of his backside and back again.  He was rewarded with a soft murmur of delight at his ear, and a firm arousal nestling against his backside.  Soon the two were frolicking between the sheets, enjoying a playful and enthusiastic lovemaking session, followed by a joint shower.

The pair headed in to work, both men happily sated; Starsky thrilled at Hutch’s improved mood and state of health.

Late in the morning, Dr. Casciaro’s nurse called to see if Hutch could come right in to discuss the results of the tests that had been run.  He hadn’t expected any of the results to be ready so soon, and was glad to drive over immediately to see if they had been able to find anything out for him.

Hanging up the phone, he looked across the desk to his partner.  “That was the doctor’s office.  They have the results of my tests already and want me to come in to go over them.  I’m gonna run over there.  I’ll be right back.  This shouldn’t take too long.”

“You want me to come with?” Starsky offered.

“Nah,” Hutch shook his head.  “It’s no big deal.  He’s probably just gonna give me some prescription.  I’ll be back before Dobey even knows I’m gone.”

Upon arriving at Dr. Casciaro’s office, Hutch was guided into a small conference room.  The handsome doctor entered and greeted him, but Hutch noted that he was not as outgoing as he had been during their first meeting.  Instead, he seemed to be more professional and solemn.  The formality he now showed was somewhat unnerving.

“How’s that arm feel?” Dr. Casciaro inquired.  “Any residual soreness?”

“No.”  Hutch shook his head.  “In fact I feel so much better today, I think I’m getting over whatever it was.”

“Well, Ken I’m afraid that isn’t the case.”

Unease washed over Hutch.  “What did the tests show?”

Dr. Casciaro took a seat and glanced at the notes again.  “Well, your blood tests came back good.  Everything looks normal there.  You have a slightly elevated calcium level, but that’s not a big concern right now.  Your AIDS test was negative.  Your skin test showed negative for scabies or other parasites.”  Pausing for a moment, he added, “Your biopsy wasn’t such good news, I’m afraid.”  He closed up the file and placed it on the desk. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands in front of him, an earnest concern displayed on his features.  “It confirms that you have a lymphoma, Ken.”

Hutch’s mouth went dry.  “Lymphoma?”

“We found these cells called Reed-Sternberg cells.  They tell us that that we are dealing with a type of lymphoma called Hodgkins Disease.”

Dread crept up his flesh as he recalled his medical training from college.  He faced him defiantly and asked, “Hodgkins Disease is usually fatal, isn’t it?”

Dr. Casciaro met his gaze confidently.  “No, not necessarily.  Medical science has made many advances in the past ten years, and the prognosis is not nearly as hopeless as it used to be.  Because of the tests we ran, we were able to classify your type of Hodgkins as mixed cellularity, which is common in about a third of the cases, and is only moderately aggressive.  That’s good.  You’ll need to have tests run to determine what stage you are at in the disease.  That should give you a better idea of your chances.  There is good reason to be optimistic.”

Hutch cleared his throat, struggling to remember what people were supposed to ask when confronted with such news.  “What’s the next step?”

“At this point I would normally refer you to an oncologist.  I have a close friend who works in the USC Norris Comprehensive Cancer Center in Los Angeles.  He’s an expert, Ken; tops in his field.  I highly recommend you go to him, and to the Norris Center.  This is one of the leading cancer treatment centers in the country, and they specialize in cancers such as yours.  If you like, I’ll get you his card as well as some brochures about the Norris Center.” 

“Yes, please,” he replied in a quiet voice.

“Is there anyone here with you I can call in?” the doctor offered, seeing the troubled countenance and soulful eyes of the man before him.

“No,” he answered.  “I’m here alone.”  Hutch saw the concern etched in the doctor’s face and added, “It’s okay… I’m okay.”

The doctor rose to get the information for him.  As he came around the chair that Hutch was sitting in, he squeezed Hutch’s shoulder.  “I’ll put in a quick call to my friend; see if he can get you in right away for an appointment.”

“Thanks.”

The few minutes he had to wait seemed interminable to Hutch.  On the doctor’s desk was an analog clock, and in the oppressive silence the ticking seemed to get louder and louder to Hutch’s ears.  He raised his eyes to stare at the clock’s face, a painful awareness overcoming him of the fragility of the precious moments the clock measured.  The snick of the door opening behind him startled the seated man, as he half-turned to see Dr. Casciaro return to his desk.

The doctor handed the pamphlets and business card to Hutch.  “They’ll see you Friday, 7:30 a.m.  I’ll have my secretary forward your records over immediately.”  Hutch nodded his assent.  “I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you, Ken.”

After glancing at the information, Hutch tucked the brochures into his inside coat pocket, and rose to thank his doctor.   Seeing the sympathy and sadness in the other man’s face, Hutch had trouble meeting his eyes.  He quickly said his goodbyes and left the office, dazed by the unexpected news that he had been presented with.

Hutch slid into the front seat of his Olds.  As he tried to put the keys into the ignition, he stopped, staring at his now trembling hand.  He let the hand drop to his lap.

How am I ever gonna tell Starsky?

********

Hutch decided he needed time to himself before facing his partner.  Rather than calling him directly, he left a message with Metro's desk clerk to inform Starsky he wasn't feeling well.  Then he went to the beach to ponder the changes upcoming in his life, and in Starsky's.

When he got the message, Starsky logged out and went to look for his lover.  Though the message Hutch left was succinct, he knew something was wrong.  He felt it.  Knowing that if something was wrong the first place Hutch would go was the beach, Starsky turned his car in that direction.

He found the blond man easily enough, seated on a bench staring out at the pounding waves.  Quietly, not wanting to disturb him, Starsky walked over and sat down beside him.  Letting Hutch know that he was there, but not intruding on his self-imposed silence.

Finally, Starsky could take the tension no longer.  "Hutch?  I thought you were sick?"

"And aren't you supposed to be at work?"  He countered.

"I could say the same for you."  Starsky took Hutch's face between his palms and turned it toward him.  The grief and sorrow in those pale blue eyes shocked him.  "What's wrong babe?  Is it the doctor?  Did he say something?"

Choking back words, Hutch shook his head slightly.  "Not here."

Starsky stood up and grasped Hutch's arm.  "All right then.  Let's go home."

Squinting his eyes against the sun as he peered up at his standing lover, Hutch asked, "Shouldn't you be going back to work instead?"

Exasperated by Hutch's reluctance, Starsky stood his ground.  "Fuck work.  You’re obviously stalling about something and I wanna get it out in the open.  If not here, then wherever," he shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't care.  But you gotta talk to me Hutch."

Sighing, Hutch slowly stood up.  "I should've known you'd find me."

"Of course, I'd find you, Blintz.  That's probably why you came here."

Silently Hutch agreed with his partner.  No matter how much he wanted to be brave and get a handle on his illness, he knew he needed Starsky to bolster his emotions and his courage.

The drive back home was silent, neither man speaking.  Hutch looked out the window, staring but not seeing; while Starsky occasionally glanced to his right trying to find out what was bothering the blond.

Starsky pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine, but Hutch seemed not to notice.  He placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.  "Hutch?  Hey, you gonna sit here or come inside with me?"

When Hutch turned toward his lover, Starsky was taken aback by the bleakness in his eyes.

"Come on babe, let's go in and talk."  Starsky said gently.

Not wanting to push him, Starsky waited and let Hutch take off his jacket and followed him into the kitchen, where Hutch grabbed a can of ice tea.

"Okay, you're scaring me Hutch.  What's going on?  What aren't you telling me?"

Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky, burying his face in his neck. "Cancer, Starsk," he whispered. "I've got cancer…"

Starsky pulled himself back, stunned.  "C..c..cancer?  Are…are you sure?"

"Hell no, I'm not sure, but the doctor's pretty sure."

He waited and watched as the truth sunk in, as Starsky kept looking his partner up and down for confirmation.  Denial, disbelief, fear, anger.

"How?  I don't understand."  He ran a hand through an abundance of curls and began pacing.  "I mean, God damn it.  This isn't fair!"

"I know."  A whisper of frustration.

Starsky ignored the remark as his anger grew.  "I survived Gunther's hit, we've started a life together, dealt with prejudice when we bought this house, and then blam!"  Starsky slammed his fist into an open palm.  "Why the hell can't we for once have a simple, normal life?!

He looked up at Hutch as the other man leaned against the counter watching him.  "Aw babe, I'm sorry.  How are you doing?  Tell me what's going on?"

"You mean beside the fact that my own body's turning against me?"  Hutch was angry now too.  He didn't want to go through this.  He didn't want Starsky to have to go through it.  He was sick, but Starsky would have to watch as he fought his greatest fight.  And he knew from past experience how much harder that could be.

"I don't know what I'm feeling to be honest.  I'm angry, I'm scared."  Hutch sighed and closed his eyes.

Starsky gathered him in his arms.  "Tell me what I can do for you babe?"

"Just be here.  Just love me."  The plaintive blue eyes spoke louder than the words.

"Always."  Starsky leaned in and gently kissed Hutch's eyelids and smoothed a flushed, pale cheek.

Hutch reached up to grasp onto the hand that soothed him and held on tightly as if grasping for a lifeline while drowning at sea.

Pulling away, but not releasing the hand that held his, Starsky led his partner into the living room and onto the couch.  "Tell me.  Tell me everything the doctor said."

In a voice devoid of emotion, Hutch repeated everything Dr. Casciaro had told him, as well as the information he gathered from the brochure and library.  As he began explaining about other tests he may be subjected to, he reached into his pants pocked and pulled out the card Dr. Casciaro had given him, fingering it while he told Starsky what would happen next.

"When are all these tests supposed to happen?"

"Day after tomorrow.  Friday."

 

"I'm going with ya."  Starsky stated firmly; which was met with a relieved countenance on Hutch's face.

"What about work?"

"Don't you remember?  Guess not, with all that's been going down."  He brushed the messy blond strands into a semblance of order.  "We have Friday off."

"I doubt I'll be able to work for a couple of days afterward.  The bone marrow test's supposed to be pretty nasty."

Starsky winced at those words.  "Don't worry about it.  I'll take care of Captain Dobey."

"You won't tell him?"

"He's gotta know, Hutch."

"Not yet.  I don't want anybody to know yet except you and our families."

"What about Huggy?  Or Gino and Grace?"

"No one, Starsk.  Please?  I mean it.  Let me tell them in my own way."

Nodding reluctantly, Starsky agreed.

 

********

 

Hutch went to work on Thursday and the two tried to act if everything was normal.  Only it wasn't, and they couldn't pretend it was.

He was to appear at the Norris Clinic at 7:30 on Friday morning, so the two made the most of Thursday evening by trying to relax and go to bed early so that Hutch would be rested.  That night their loving was the most gentle and life affirming of their relationship.  Telling each other by touch what they had always told each other in action.

********

Starsky pulled up to the large modern building following the signs for the parking structure.  “I always thought this was some kind of research lab.  I didn’t realize it was a hospital too.”  He glanced up at the large modern building he had seen many times but hadn’t given much attention to.

"I think it used to be one. The brochure said they added the hospital about a year or so ago." Hutch sighed, wondering what his own treatment would require.

"Do they work much with Hodgkins?"

"Yeah, it's one of the things they specialize in."

Starsky put the car into park and turned to Hutch with a hopeful smile. "Let's see what they can do for us then, huh?"

The test they wanted to start with was a CAT scan.  Hutch drank down the odd liquid they had instructed him to, thinking that the concoction tasted an awful lot like Tang, the powered orange drink.  He couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what was actually used to flavor it.  After finally stomaching the liquid, he was hooked up to an IV.  The technicians soon had him lying on his back as the large cylindrical machine whirled and clicked overhead and around him.  A distant voice came over a speaker directing him to hold his breath every so often.  The procedure was not unpleasant, but terribly monotonous.

Since he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink since the previous evening because of the CAT, when the test was completed the kind lab tech brought him his first cup of coffee of the day, much to his delight.  She then directed him across the hall to the phlebotomist for more blood tests.  By this time he had been in the labs for over two hours.  After a moderate wait, blood was drawn, filling several small tubes, all lined up in a little rack.

The bone marrow test was last, as it was the most uncomfortable.  Hutch was sedated with a spinal and laid on his stomach on a gurney.  A small area of his hip was swathed and then a long, hollow needle inserted into his flank.  Because the area was covered with sheets, Hutch didn’t see the needle, and Starsky was seated at the front holding onto Hutch’s hands and out of view of the procedure.  Even with the anesthesia Hutch felt the needle as it sank deeply into his bone, and grunted, pulling Starsky’s hands as he fought the pain.

He needed to wait until the anesthesia wore off, so the clinic kept him for several hours.  As it dissipated, the pain and soreness became worse and he was given some Tylenol with Codeine to help alleviate it.

Several hours later, Hutch was released to go home.  As Starsky helped him slip into his jacket to leave, the tech that had brought him coffee came up to them with a cheery smile.  "Good luck with your test results," she said good-naturedly.

“Thanks.”  It was obvious Hutch was tired and sore, so Starsky took hold of his upper arm to help steady him.

“Do you know when the results might be in?”  Hutch asked the technician.

“Probably not until next Monday at the earliest.”

Hutch’s shoulders slumped and he squeaked in dismay, “Next week?”

The lab technician was apologetic.  “Sorry.  I know it’s hard to wait that long, but we have to be thorough.”

Looking at his partner’s demeanor, Starsky mumbled as they walked out, “No lady, I don’t think you have any idea how hard it is.”

********

 

Starsky dropped Hutch off at home and got him settled, then went to get his Tylenol 3 prescription filled.  He also picked up some word game puzzle books to help keep Hutch occupied during the next week.

As expected Hutch was unable to work on Saturday.  Starsky covered for him by telling Dobey that Hutch was ill, but he’d seen the doctor and it was being taken care of and Hutch should be back on duty Monday.

The following week and a half Hutch’s emotions ran the gamut from forced optimism to frustration to fear, and then anger.

Starsky dealt with all of it resolutely and tried not to let Hutch’s snapping remarks or forgetfulness bother him.

However, it became a problem at work and on the streets.  Hutch would snarl at other officers at times, then plaster a false smile and joke around.  Most of their perps got the same angry and abusive treatment.  Starsky knew what Hutch was thinking:  The unfairness of it all.  He’s led a good, law abiding life and these jerks are wasting theirs.

Why me and not them?  Hutch thought to himself as he slammed a thief up against a brick building a little more forcefully than usual.  Immediately he felt contrite.  I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, would I?  That wouldn’t make me any better than them.

By Thursday evening, both men’s nerves were shot and they had taken to spending their off hours in separate activities.  Starsky went to the movies and Hutch went to the beach or park; or Hutch worked outside, while Starsky stayed inside.

This particular evening Hutch was out for a walk and Starsky needed someone else to talk to.  So he decided to call his mother a day early.

Rachel Starsky looked forward each week to her son’s phone calls.  Nevertheless she was surprised when he called a day early.

“David?  Honey, is everything okay?”

Starsky let the tension in his body release at the sound of his mother’s voice.  “No, Ma.  Hutch is sick.”

“Ken is sick?  Does he have pneumonia?  You told me once that he’s more susceptible to lung infections.”

“No, Ma.  I wish it was as simple as that.  Hutch… Hutch has cancer.  It’s called Hodgkins Disease and it usually strikes younger men, but for some reason he got it now.”

He could hear the gasp through the phone, “Oh Sweetie.  I’m so sorry.  Do you want me to come out there?”

“No, he’s okay right now.  Maybe later if… if he gets real sick.”

“What can I do?  I can maybe call your Aunt Rose and have her bring over some meals.”

“I guess.  I just….we don’t know all the results yet and it’s been a tough week.  Hutch is going through a lot right now.  I feel like I’m walking on thin ice and I can hear it cracking beneath me.”

“Don’t let this pull you apart, honey.  You made a commitment to each other even though you never said the vows.”

“I ain’t gonna leave him.”  He didn’t mean to growl at his mother.

“I know dear, but when you feel like railing at the world, you call me.  Try not to let Hutch see how upset you are.”

“Okay Ma.”

“Now what about Hutch’s family?  How are they taking the news?”

“Hutch said his ma was upset, and Karyn too.  Wanted to fly out right away, but he wouldn’t let them come.”

Mother and son talked for a little while longer until Starsky heard the key turn in the front door, signaling his lover’s return.

“Call me when you know more, David.  Keep me informed.”

“Sure Ma.”  Starsky was feeling a little better; talking to his mother always helped calm his overactive psyche.

“I love you honey.  Both of you.  My prayers are with you and Ken.”

“Bye Ma.  Love you too.”  He hung up the phone just as Hutch questioned him.

“That your mom?”

“Yeah.  I, uh, I told her.”  Starsky tread warily, not knowing Hutch’s mood.  “That okay?  You said we could tell our families.”

“Sure.  She’s practically my mother-in-law.”  Hutch turned, taking off his jacket and hanging it up.  “She okay?”

“Yeah, she wanted to come out though.”

At Hutch’s grimace, Starsky assured him that he convinced her not to come.  “Maybe later, huh?”  He asked as he fingered the collar on Hutch’s green shirt.

“Sure, maybe later.”  Starsky’s fingers were distracting him.

“How ‘bout I draw you a shower and then go lay down?”

“Starsky, I’m not in the mood for sex right now.”  Hutch snapped as his large hand batted Starsky’s fingers away.

“That’s not what I want, Hutch.  We don’t have to do anything.  I just want to spend time holding you.  We can talk…or not.  Up to you.”

The shower calmed Hutch considerably and soon they were settled with a glass of wine in the bedroom.  For the first time in a week, he opened up and haltingly told Starsky of his fears, not only for himself, but for Starsky also.

Wrapped in the warmth of his lover’s arms, Hutch relaxed and slept contentedly for the first time in days.  Starsky also drew comfort from the body he held and let go of his worries for one night.

********

As promised, the doctor’s office called Monday afternoon and set up an appointment to see both men at the end of the day.  They were told to see Dr. Edward Newman, an oncologist who specialized in lymphatic cancers and a friend of Dr. Casciaro’s, once they arrived at the Norris Center.

He greeted both detectives warmly and with solemnity and offered chairs opposite his desk.  As an introduction, he recited some of his credentials to assure them of his capabilities.

Hutch gave a small cough during a break from the recital, unintentionally focusing the eyes and attentions of the other two men on him. He lifted his chin defiantly, and with intense eyes asked, "Just tell me.  How bad?"

Dr. Newman, a bland looking brunet the same age as Dr. Casciaro, met his eyes with sincerity and forthrightness. "Because of the tests we ran, we were able to classify your illness into a stage. There are four stages, one having the best prognosis, four having the least favorable prognosis. You are classified at this time as Stage 2B. This means you have more than one tumor, and they are all above the diaphragm. The B indicates you have symptoms. I know Dr. Casciaro has already explained your type of Hodgkins is

mixed cellularity, which is common in about a third of the cases, and is only moderately aggressive. This is good, as is the fact that your tumors are relatively small."

"But Doc," Starsky struggled to find his voice, "what does 'moderately aggressive' tell us? What I wanna know is, he's gonna beat this thing, right?"

"Mr. Starsky, keep in mind that the staging can change as more tests are run. For example, if another bone marrow scan is run, and it turns out to be positive, it can jump him into a higher stage. However, at this point, the prognosis is fairly optimistic. It's about a 50/50 chance to survive five years."

Starsky's jaw dropped and he looked with shock at his partner.

Hutch had expected a much lower chance of survival, based on what he remembered from his college courses. This bit of news was rather encouraging, considering what he thought he'd be facing. He took a large breath and exhaled slowly, feeling almost as shaky on the inside as he did on the outside. Looking to Starsky, he studied his partner intently. And Starsky was not nearly as relieved as Hutch.

"Fifty fifty Doc?" Starsky challenged. "You make his chances sound like a flip of a coin!" He stood up and nervously started to pace. "I don't accept that! I won't accept that!" He stopped pacing and faced Dr. Newman with penetrating eyes. "I don't care what your books tell you. You don't know Hutch. Don't underestimate him!"

Dr. Newman smiled. "I like to hear that. A patient's attitude has much to do with their chances of survival, Mr. Starsky. So does the attitude of his loved ones."

Surprised that his angry outburst did not rattle the doctor in the least, and in fact seemed to please him, Starsky visibly calmed. Hutch reached up and took his hand, and Starsky turned to him, his heart in his eyes. Only Hutch knew the grief and frustration he was suppressing. Starsky's eyes softened. He mouthed ‘I love you’, and the corner of Hutch's mouth curved into an understanding grin.

Unaware of the unspoken communication between the two, Dr. Newman spoke up. "You don't care much for the medical profession, do you Mr. Starsky? And you have no faith in it?"

Starsky whirled about to face the doctor again. "No, I don't," he answered bluntly. He immediately felt contrite. "Uh, nothing personal, Doc."

"I'm not offended. I respect your honesty. What is it that gives you such a negative opinion of us?"

Starsky gave a small chuckle as he sank back into his seat. "That could take a while."

The doctor sat back leisurely and clasped his hands across his belly. His movements clearly showed that he was quite willing to listen.

Starsky grinned, "Hutch and me, uh, we don't get along with doctors or hospitals…"

"Speak for yourself," Hutch teased. "I wasn't the one who got thrown out of physical therapy for spraying a water bottle filled with Gatorade into the face of the therapist!"

"Ha! That's right. You were the one that got thrown out of Memorial for setting off their fire sprinklers!"

"That wasn't my fault. They blamed me, but it was Huggy who pulled that little stunt."

"You also nearly got banned from visitation for smuggling food and champagne into my room!"

Hutch laughed now. "Yeah, come to think of it, I did, didn't I?"

Dr. Newman was watching the two men closely. This was his first glimpse of them without the fear and the illness clouding the issue. "It sounds like you two have quite a history with hospitals and doctors."

"Yeah, well, we've gotten pretty chummy with the entire staff at Memorial, let alone the trauma units in every hospital in this county. If it's not one of us that's hurt, then one of our colleagues. The nature of our job, I guess. It's just that me and Hutch and doctors don't get along too good," Starsky grinned.

"Why is that?"

"We don't play by the rules, Doc. Hutch and me are like a team. We work well together, but that doesn't work in your world. You have your rules and your policies, and we don't fit into that. You're always trying to keep us apart, and you don't listen to us. If Hutch is hurt or sick, I end up feeling like I'm the enemy."

"I can understand that," Dr. Newman replied. "But I want you to know that it isn't like that here. You both have a huge say in what goes on. I want to know how best to treat you, Ken. I want you to feel like you can talk to me. It's important that you feel positively about your doctors and your treatment." He looked to Starsky. "And if you are worried that I may not have the expertise to treat your partner, I would be happy to go over my credentials in greater detail. Or you are welcome to check me out on your own, if you prefer. I want you to have trust in my abilities, and in my intentions."

Hutch liked this man. He exuded a confidence that made him feel good about everything he said.

"I can tell you one thing I need," Hutch offered quietly. Both men gave him their full attention. "I want the truth. Don't hide it and don't sugarcoat it. I want to know everything."

Dr. Newman nodded his head once. "Done." He sat forward in his chair. "And Mr. Starsky, I would value your input. I have no intention of excluding you from Ken's treatment. I will work with you both as best I can, even if it is unconventional, as long as it is in the best interests of my patient. Your describing your relationship as a 'team' is actually quite encouraging to me. You may need to depend on that teamwork to get through some rough patches ahead. Both of you."

Hutch reached up and put his hand on Starsky's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "So what's next, Doc? Where do we go from here?"

"We'll start with radiation. Since you are at stage two, and your tumors are small, we may be able to just use the radiation. We can evaluate the size of the tumors after the treatments and see if chemo is still warranted. You'll be treated five days a week for four weeks."

"Will this make him sick?" Starsky asked.

"It might. I suspect it will. Few people can go through radiation without side effects. The area will be red and dry, probably itchy. Like a burn. You may lose hair, especially in the area treated. Some lose their appetite, some get sick to their stomach, some say food tastes different. I can list out all the possible side effects, but you won't really know until you go through it which combination of side effects will be yours, if any at all. I'll give you some information before you leave about radiation, and what you can expect. We also have information about diet and exercise and how that will impact your treatment."

Starsky's voice was quiet, "Will it hurt?"

"No, not the radiation. The treatment itself is completely painless, Mr. Starsky."

"Just Starsky," he replied. "You can drop the Mister. Or you can call me Dave, if you prefer." The doctor nodded.

"Will I be able to work while going through radiation treatments?" Hutch asked.

"You might. Again, it depends on the side effects. There will be bad days and good days. You will need a lot of rest, but we encourage you to go on with your normal life as much as you are able."

"When will the treatments begin?" Hutch inquired

"We’ll start them on Monday. We'll have you come in Friday for a simulation, a sort of test run to acquaint you with the treatments, and to give the technicians a chance to prepare for them; get you marked for where the radiation will be directed and such."

The two men continued to question the doctor about the procedure, then took their leave. Their exit from the facility and walk to the car was quiet, both men lost in their thoughts and worries. Driving toward home, neither spoke. Hutch hadn't even noticed when Starsky pulled off into the parking lot of a small park.

Glancing up at the children playing Frisbee in the distance, he asked, "What's this?"

"We need to talk," Starsky said softly.

Hutch looked over at him. "You okay?"

He shook his head and looked away out the window. "No." He paused before continuing. "When the doc said you had a 50/50 chance, I was sitting there with my guts all spilled out on the floor, hearing the worst news I've ever heard, and I look over and you look… I don't know… relieved.  Pleased.”

"I thought the prognosis would be worse," Hutch admitted.

"You knew, didn't you? You knew right from the beginning!"

"When I took those courses in pre-med, I covered a bit on Hodgkins. Back then, it was pretty much a death sentence. Dr. Casciaro said the chances are not as bad anymore, that treatments have improved."

"You coulda told me, ya know!" Starsky was struggling, trying not to get angry at Hutch, but furious nonetheless. "You coulda warned me!"

Hutch dropped his head. "I know. I should have said something. I guess I was hoping you wouldn't have to know."

Starsky fell silent. His breathing was quick and ragged, causing Hutch to wonder if he weren't going to break down. He finally looked up at Hutch, unshed tears in his eyes. "I woulda preferred to hear it from you."

Hutch pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, David," he whispered into his curls. "I'm sorry."

He dug his fingers into Hutch's jacket, clinging to the garment with a ferocious grip. Finally he pulled back, without releasing his hold on the cloth. His head was bowed and his eyes locked on the front of Hutch's jacket. "Don't hold out on me like that. You want the truth, and you don't want it sugarcoated, so don't go givin' me lies and stories." He raised his eyes to meet Hutch's. "We're in this together, 'kay?"

"'Kay, partner," Hutch answered softly.

"Oh, an' Hutch? One more thing." His eyes sparked. "If I ever hear you say you have a fifty fifty chance, I'm gonna deck ya. You got that? I never wanna hear that again."

Hutch grinned. "Got it."

 

*********

Friday came quickly for the sick man, far quicker than he would’ve liked.  If Friday could somehow be avoided, then he wouldn’t have to face his illness.  Unfortunately it was inevitable that the day should come, and with trepidation Hutch went for his first visit before work.

Luckily, Dobey was off for the weekend so Starsky didn’t need to come up with yet another excuse for his absentee partner. 

“How’d it go?”  Starsky asked his returning partner as he walked into the squad room following his initial visit to the radiology department at the clinic.

Hutch shrugged his shoulders and looked around at the nearly empty squad room.  “Okay.  They really didn’t do much.  Just made all these marks in ink along my chest and under my arm where the beam’ll be focused.  And they made this plastic shield of my body and marked that too.”

“Ink, huh?”  Guess you’ll need someone to scrub you real good to get those marks off.”  Starsky’s eyebrows lifted suggestively above gleaming blue eyes.

“And who would you recommend for the job?”  Hutch appreciated the banter with his partner more now than ever.

Flexing his fingers palms up, Starsky replied, “Oh I’m sure I can find 10 friends willing to take on that job.”

“Hmmm… Only 10 that wanna play?”  Eager eyes shifted to Starsky’s groin.  The pointed remarks causing the other man’s pants to fill uncomfortably.

“Damnit, Hutch!”  Starsky hissed.  “Now I’ll be stuck behind this desk all day.”

The blond chuckled.  Starsky had given him many hard ons during work.  “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”  He sat in his seat across from his partner.

Changing the subject in the hopes to ease his erection, Starsky asked “How about we go to Huggy’s for dinner?”

“Sure.  The brochures Dr. Newman gave me talk about trying to keep as much of a normal routine as possible.”

The blunt reminder of Hutch’s illness helped to ease Starsky’s erection quicker than usual.  He coughed lightly, to cover his threatening emotions.  “Yeah, well let’s hit the road and earn our keep.”

********

 

Huggy greeted his two friends by placing two cold Budweisers on the bar top.  He peered closely at the blond man.  “Hey Hutch, you feelin’ all right?”

Exchanging a warning glance with Starsky, Hutch nodded with constraint.  “Yeah, just getting over a bought of the flu.”

Huggy accepted the explanation at face value.  “So that’s why I haven’t seen your two pasty faces ‘round here.”

Nervously, Starsky got up and wiped his hands against his blue jeans.  “Hey, Hug you got any new music in that old juke box of yours?”  He pointed to the colorful machine that had followed him from his old bar, and which now sat in the corner at The Pits.

“Sure, I got me this new John Lennon single just the other day.  It’s cool, you’ll dig it.”

Hutch perked up and handed Starsky a quarter.  “I like Lennon.  I didn’t know there was more of his music unreleased.  Go punch it in Starsk.”

The other two men made their way to the booth that Starsky and Hutch preferred.

“Hey Hug, what’s the special?”  Starsky called from across the bar room.

“Well my bottomless pitted friend, today’s delicacy is country-fried chicken and slaw”

Waving his hand forward, Starsky told him to bring ‘em on.

“Uh, not for me Huggy.  I’ll just stick with a salad.”

Starsky also ordered a side of fries for the two of them, figuring Hutch could always be counted on to snag a few of the fried potatoes off his plate.

Huggy left the two men to drop their order off in the kitchen and refill their drinks.

As Starsky walked back to the booth, he leaned close to his partner so his words wouldn’t travel.  “Hutch, you gotta eat.”

“I’m really not hungry Starsk.  I’ll eat more at dinner.”

“You better.”  Starsky tried to imitate the Hutchinson point, with little success.  Then he froze as the sounds of John Lennon’s posthumously released song ‘Borrowed Time’ floated out of the speakers and through the bar.

When I was younger

Full of ideas and broken dreams (my friend)

When I was younger, ah ah

Everything simple but not so clear.

Living on borrowed time

Without a thought for tomorrow

Living on borrowed time

Without a thought for tomorrow

Now I am older

The more that I see the less that I know for sure.

Now I am older, ah ah

The future is brighter and now is the hour.

Living on borrowed time

Without a thought for tomorrow

Living on borrowed time

Without a thought for tomorrow

“Boy that’s a beautiful tune.”  Hutch didn’t notice Starsky’s behavior as he pulled the bottle of amber fluid up to his lips.

Hutch’s remarks seemed to release Starsky from his stupor.  “How can you say that?”

“Huh?”

“Hutch that song sounds like…” he lowered his voice to a whisper “like he’s singing about his death.”

Setting the bottle down, Hutch tried to placate his partner. "Aw Starsk, you're reading too much into it. Just listen to the words. It's about a man looking back on his life. He was forty years old, just like us, and.." He stopped at the glare from Starsky.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about liking songs that talk about death. And don't go comparing yourself to a singer who died when he was forty!" He shook away the shiver that was running down his back.

As Starsky sat down on the creaky vinyl, he noticed a piece of light blue paper lying on the seat. Sliding in while simultaneously picking it up, he read it and blanched.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, crumpling the paper in his fists.

Hutch noticed the change in his demeanor.  “Starsky?  You okay?”

Shaking his head, Starsky got up from the booth and threw the crumpled form onto the table.

“Starsk?  What’s wrong?”

He looked back at Hutch with misery in his eyes.  “I ain’t doin’ this Hutch.  I can’t.  I can’t not tell Huggy.”

“Tell me what?”  Huggy had appeared back at the table with more drinks and the fries.  “Hey!  Where you off to Tonto?  This ain’t no garbage can.  Come and pick up your litter from my fine table.”  Huggy stared after his curly-headed friend as the other man hustled into the restroom.

Throwing his thumb over his shoulder at the just retreated man, Huggy asked, “What’s up with Starsky?”

“I don’t know.”  Hutch picked up the blue paper and uncrumpled it, laying it on the table.

“What’s that?”

“Whatever it says, it got Starsky all upset.”  The two men peered at it, Huggy leaning over Hutch’s shoulder.

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“This is what Starsky’s upset about?”  Huggy looked closely at his friend through narrowed eyes.  “Okay, lay it on me.  What’s going down?”

Hutch looked over and saw Anita waving for the barman’s attention.  “I wanna check on Starsky.  You go see what Anita wants.”

“Oh, I know what Anita wants, but she ain’t gonna get to sail that boat.”  He said looking pointedly at Hutch.  “However, this conversation ain’t over.  I’ll be back in a few and then you and me and Curly are gonna have a chat.”

In the restroom Hutch found his partner leaning with both hands on the sides of a sink, staring into the large mirror that ran the length of the wall.  “You okay buddy?”

Taking a breath, Starsky looked in the mirror at his partner standing behind him.  “Yeah, it just….  Seeing that flyer, and hearing that song, and to top it off your first visit with the radiologist today, just made it all come home I guess.”

Hutch put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder giving comfort and drawing comfort also.  “I need you Starsk.  I can’t do this alone.”

Starsky turned around and pulled Hutch into his arms, holding him close.  “You’re not gonna, babe.  I’m gonna be here with you all the way.  ‘For better or worse’.  But you’re gonna need to lean on others too.  You can’t leave everyone out.”

“Shit, Starsk.  I forgot how hard all this’s been on you.”

“Me!  That’s just like you, Hutch.  You’re the one who’s sick and you’re worried about everyone else.  What I’m going through, what Huggy’s going to think, what Dobey’s going to do….”  He trailed off, raising a hand to brush through the soft blond hair.  “But I love you the way you are, anyway.”

“How about a compromise?  I’ll tell Huggy and some of our other friends, but I don’t want Captain Dobey to know yet.  I can still do my job and if he knows, I’m worried it’ll get out elsewhere at the precinct and they’ll ground me.”

“Deal.  On one condition.”

“You name it.”

“I want you to honestly let me know when you don’t think you can handle bein’ on the streets.  I don’t need to be worrying about you getting sick in my car.”

Hutch smiled broadly.  “Deal.  I’d never put your life in danger Starsk.  You know that.”

“It ain’t my life I’m worried about.”  Starsky mumbled.  At Hutch’s frown, he added, “It’s my car.  You know how much Merle would charge me to clean it?”  He pulled out of the embrace and patted Hutch’s back.  The meaning behind the pat saying more than the words that accompanied the gesture.  They left the restroom together.

“There you two gents are!”  Huggy called to them.  “You two go to the bathroom together more than any females I know.”  He lowered his voice as they came closer.  “You all gotta be careful, people are gonna talk.”

Starsky snorted.  “They already do.  They’ve been doing that for years.”

“Yeah, well now it ain’t nothing you can brush off like earlier times.”  As his two friends sat down, he brought forward two more beers and their dinner plates.

Waving off the beer, Hutch asked for coffee instead.  “Alcohol doesn’t seem to sit too well with me these days.”

“Why?  You’re not pregnant are you?”  Huggy joked alone at his lame humor.  Seeing he was the only one of the threesome to chuckle, he looked back and forth between the two.  “Okay you gonna spill it or what?”

Looking deeply into Starsky’s eyes for strength, Hutch told their friend.  “I’ve got cancer.”

“WHAT!?  And when did this big news hit the fan?”

“Earlier this week.  I had my first visit with the radiologist this morning.”  He nodded over at Starsky.  “That’s why Starsky got all upset.  Too many things hitting him from all sides.”

“Oh man, Hutch.  Tell me about it.  Did the docs give you any kind of ….” Huggy looked a little uncomfortable.  “You know, um odds?”

“Pretty good, considering.”  Hutch heard Starsky take a shuddering breath, but ignored him.  “Around 50/50.  It’s called Hodgkins.  I start radiation treatments next week, everyday for the next four weeks.”

What can I do?  You just tell the Bear whatever you need and I will deliver.”

“Well, how about some tea to start with.  I don’t know if I can handle coffee right now either.”  He reached out to put his hand on Huggy’s silk paisley covered arm.  “And Huggy, thanks.”

Huggy covered the large hand with his own long, manicured fingers.  “Anything Hutch.  And you too, Starsk.  You need anything, even talk, you come and see me.”

“But Huggy, one thing.”  Light blue eyes looked deeply into Huggy’s brown ones.  “I don’t want Captain Dobey to know yet.  If you happen to run across the Captain, don’t let loose anything.  Right now I’m feeling okay and I can back up my partner.  I’m worried that they’ll ground me when they find out.”

Nodding, Huggy agreed.  “Gotcha Kemosabe.  Don’t spill the beans to the warden.”

************
WEEK ONE

***********

Week one brought little change to Hutch, other than the difference in his routine whereby he went to treatments during lunch.  Setting them up for that time alleviated the need to tell Dobey where he was going everyday, or why he was late.

As long as Hutch didn’t seem outwardly sick, Starsky could force the reality of his lover’s cancer into a closet in his mind and slam the door shut.

Yet on some nights, like tonight, Starsky found himself sitting on Hutch’s side of the bed next to the long blond, watching him as he slept.  Starsky reached over and twirled the long, thin strands of golden silk through his fingers as he thought how the radiation was beginning to show its affects on Hutch’s mannerisms.

Countless times the last two days Starsky found Hutch reaching for his throat and rubbing or pulling on it.  And his appetite had decreased since he started the treatments.  By the end of the day, the big blond was exhausted and usually fell asleep in the car on the way home.  Starsky wanted to make things lighter and easier for his partner, but he knew that Hutch would realize what he was doing and why.  He didn’t think he could handle a full-blown Hutchinson lecture right now.

********

Starsky shut off the lawn mower with a satisfied smile.  He had been tinkering with the machine, trying to adjust it so that it didn’t cough out so much smoke as he pushed it across the lawn, and had finally gotten the adjustment just right.  Straightening, he brushed his filthy hands across his denim clad thighs.  Feeling eyes upon him, he turned to find Hutch standing off behind him, watching him work.

“Nice,” Hutch stated appreciatively.  “You fixed it.  Here I was going to suggest we give up and buy a new one.”

“I like the way this one cuts,” Starsky countered.  “Look how nice the grass looks.”

Surveying the yard, Hutch nodded in agreement.  “You’re right.  It does look great.”  He turned his eyes back to his partner.  “You finished here?  I thought maybe after you clean up we could go out to dinner.  You up for it?”

Starsky smiled.  “Yeah, I’m up for it.  We haven’t been out in a long time.”

“Good.  It’s a date then.”

********

Hutch had chosen a secluded upscale Italian restaurant, calling in advance to request a booth.  Louisa’s was famous for their marinated steaks, a particular favorite of Starsky’s, and for their intimate setting.  There were several private booths set back into small cubbies, not completely closed off from the rest of the dining room, but enough so that it gave a much more secluded feel to the meal. 

“I already know what I’m ordering,” Starsky grinned, placing the menu aside.  “A steak sounds really good right now.”  He saw Hutch studying the menu and felt sad.  “You can’t eat that, can you?  You wanna go someplace else?”  He hadn’t thought about how Hutch’s sore throat would make it too difficult to eat steak.

“No, it’s okay,” Hutch reassured him.  “I’m in the mood for pasta.  That’s why I picked this place.”  Then he added with a pleased grin, “And since you’re getting the marinated steak, I don’t have to worry about ordering something with garlic.  Your steak is smothered in it.”

Since Hutch was not letting his discomfort take away from the evening, Starsky decided not to let it take away from his either.  They both relaxed and enjoyed their time together.  After a while, the conversation led to the previous day.  Hutch had been scarce the whole day, and had been evasive when Starsky questioned his disappearance.

“It’s the wrong season for Christmas shopping,” Starsky noted.  “So why the secrecy?”

Hutch gave up the pretense.  “I was taking care of some things.  Making preparations.”

The word ‘preparations’ had an ominous ring to Starsky.  “What are you preparing for?”  He was afraid of Hutch’s answer, but hoping he would be told something that would put his fears at ease.

“I stopped by work.  I filled out some paperwork to change my life insurance policy there.  It still listed my folks as my beneficiary.  I wanted it to list you.  I had already updated my personal insurance policies years ago.”

Knowing there was more to this than a simple paperwork adjustment, Starsky coaxed, “Yeah…?”

“Then I had an appointment with my financial advisor, and another appointment with my lawyer.”

“What about?”

Hutch hesitated, calculating Starsky’s reaction.  “I’m drawing up my Will.”

Starsky looked away.  Instead of being angry, he felt an intense sadness.  “Don’t talk like that, Hutch.  You aren’t gonna die.”

“Everybody dies.  This just got me thinking that I should make sure everything is in order, for whenever it does happen.”

His voice was even quieter.  “Writing up a Will, it sounds like you’re giving up.”

Hutch reached out and grabbed Starsky’s hand.  “Giving up?”  He spoke gently.  “David, I haven’t even begun to fight yet.”

Starsky gave him a small smile. 

“I just want to be sure that if something should happen to me, that you would be protected.”

“Protected?  I don’t know what you mean, Hutch.”

“You have no legal rights to my estate,” Hutch explained. 

Starsky waved his hand, brushing off his concerns.  “I don’t care about that.”

Hutch raised his eyebrows.  “That’s a lot of money, babe.  And it’s not just the money, it’s the house and everything in it.  What if my family decided to fight for all that?  You could lose the house.”

“Hutch, without you, the house and the money mean nothing to me.  Nothing.”

“David, I love you,” Hutch declared.  “In my heart, we are married.  I would marry you legally, right now, if I could.”

“I know, babe.  I love you too.”  Then he added teasingly, “You’ve been a good wife to me.”

Hutch laughed. 

“Even if we found someone who would marry us,” Hutch sighed, “it still wouldn’t be recognized legally.  You would still have no rights to my estate.”

Starsky shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter.  I don’t need the money.  I need you, right here beside me.”

“It matters to me, Starsky.  I want you taken care of.  I want you to have what rightfully belongs to you.  This isn’t right, that I can’t provide that for you.  If we were a man and woman, none of this would be an issue.  We’d get married, I’d write a basic will; everything would be set. My lawyers and my financial advisors are trying to work around the legal system so that I can do this so you’d have no problems to deal with from my family.  Let me do this.  It will give me peace of mind to know that you are legally protected.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Starsky nodded.  “Okay.  But I want you to stop worrying about me, darlin’.   Fretting about all that legal mumbo jumbo is gonna wear on you, and you need that energy for getting well.  Just tell the lawyers what you want done, and let them figure it out.  I’ll be fine either way.  Let’s put the focus back on you getting better, where it belongs.”

“All the talk with the lawyers about our relationship really got me thinking.  It’s frustrating to me that because we aren’t a husband and wife that we can’t have what other spouses do.  We’ve made a lot of sacrifices to be together.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve made sacrifices,” Starsky stated, deep in thought.  “It isn’t a sacrifice to be with you.”

“No, I mean we could get married.”

“Ken, we are married.”

“We have that commitment, yes,” he nodded.  “But we could have that ceremony, that celebration with our friends.  The public recognition that we are a united pair.  I want to be able to kiss you in public, to hold hands with you, to refer to you as my husband or my spouse…  All the things that other married couples take for granted.”

“You know why we’ve never done that.  It could jeopardize us at work.”

“Fuck work,” Hutch spat out.  “We’re more important.”

Startled by his vehemence, Starsky reminded him, “But it could put us in danger, remember?  You wanna end up needing backup that never shows?”

“I’m not so sure anymore that would be an issue.  I mean, we’re damn good at our jobs.  We’ve earned respect there.  And there’s always been talk about us, even before we became lovers.  I think if we were going to run into that kind of hatred, we would have seen it by now.”

“What about Internal Affairs?”

“They aren’t gonna fire us.  They’d be shooting themselves in the foot.”

“They would split us up.  Spouses can’t work together as partners.  Not even heterosexual ones.”

“We could fight it.”

“There’s no chance we’d win.”

“It’s just a job, partner.  I’d rather be your partner in love than in work.  You are more important.”

Starsky sat quietly for a moment.  “Yes.”

Hutch’s eyes widened.  “Yes?  You agree?  I expected more of a disagreement.”

Starsky shook his head.  He thought heavily about his answer before replying.  “Ken, if you aren’t here in five years, do you really think my biggest loss will be of my working partner?  Like you said, it’s just a job.  I can find other work.  I can get another partner.  You aren’t replaceable.”

Hutch smiled.  He pulled a box from his pocket and placed it on the table.  “I got us something.”  Sliding the small box to Starsky, he waited.

Starsky opened the lid of the box to find two gold bands nestled in a navy blue velvet cushion, one sized slightly larger than the other.  “You bought us rings?”

“If you don’t want to wear it at work, I’ll understand.”

Starsky removed a ring from the box and lovingly examined it.  He smiled.  “Can I wear it now?  Or do you want to wait until we get married?”

“Now,” Hutch smiled in return.  “I don’t want to plan a marriage ceremony right now, not knowing how these treatments will affect me.  Let’s wait until the treatments are over and we see what’s going to happen next.”

Instead of putting his own ring on, he grabbed the larger ring from the box and slipped it onto Hutch’s right ring finger.  “I love you, Ken.”  He pressed his own ring into Hutch’s palm.

Hutch slid the ring onto Starsky’s matching finger.  “And I love you, David.”

Gazing at Hutch, Starsky sighed.  “I want to kiss you,” he said plaintively.

Hutch cupped Starsky’s face in his hands and kissed him reverently. 

At first Starsky was tense, unused to being publicly affectionate, but he soon warmed to the tender lips. 

When Hutch finally ended the kiss, he smiled.  “I’m not hiding anymore, babe.  I’m not denying, and I’m not pretending we’re no more than friends.  I love you, and I’m not afraid to show it.”

“I can see this is going to take some getting used to,” Starsky grinned.  “I think some practice is in order…”  He pulled Hutch closer to kiss him again.

********

 

After being granted Friday off by Dobey, Starsky insisted on accompanying Hutch to his radiation treatment.  He had gone the first day, but had not been back with him since.  Hutch had decided that it wasn’t necessary, and it served them well to have Starsky back at Parker Center, able to cover if Hutch took longer than expected. 

Hutch had to undergo the treatments alone, closed off in a small room.  No visitors could participate with him, due to the radiation exposure.  “It’s okay, Starsky,” Hutch soothed.  “I really can’t feel anything.  It doesn’t hurt at all.  Piece of cake.”  With that, he smiled and left with the technician, leaving Starsky in the waiting room alone.

The waiting room was well stocked with current magazines, but Starsky couldn’t concentrate long enough to read a single article.  He debated turning on the tv in the corner, but he knew he wouldn’t really watch it either, so he left it.  He sat back in a chair against the wall, and watched the activity of the hospital.  There was a steady stream of patients coming and going from treatments, in varying degrees of good and bad health.  A few were like Hutch, appearing to have no health problems at all.  A few were brought down in wheel chairs, looking extremely unwell or with a ghostly hopelessness in their eyes. 

A shudder ran through Starsky.  He wondered how Hutch would respond to these treatments.  For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine Hutch battered by chemotherapy and radiation, and he felt a heartsick pain in his chest.  Reminding himself that Hutch may never get that sick, that the radiation could shrink the tumors and may not make him ill at all; but a nagging dread still laid claim to his heart.

A small voice in his head taunted him.  What if he doesn’t make it?  The idea of living his life without Hutch was unfathomable.  In one devastating blow, he could lose his best friend, his confidant, his working partner, his family and his lover.  The ache in his heart grew stronger, but he fought it down.  He WILL make it.  He has to make it. 

Toying with the ring on his finger, he smiled.  Married.  He had always considered himself married to Hutch, ever since they became lovers, but the ring added something.  He had a symbol of his love with him at all times, for all to see; a part of him in his hand.  The notion delighted him. 

Remembering Hutch’s words from the other night, Starsky was touched that Hutch felt the need to protect his interests.  Knowing Hutch’s family, and their dismay over their relationship, he could see why Hutch worried about them contesting his Will.  While they had always treated Starsky respectfully, it was easy to see that Hutch’s father was not at all pleased with his son’s choices.  From past experiences, he was well aware that death could bring out both the best and worst in those left behind, and he would not want to be pitted against Hutch’s family in a courtroom.  If it came down to that, Starsky knew he would walk away, let them have it all.  He wouldn’t fight them; couldn’t battle against Hutch’s loved ones.  He didn’t have the strength, nor the desire to hurt someone so important to Hutch, especially when all he would really want to do is turn to them, share his grief with them, because they were the only other people who loved Hutch as much as he did.

The aching in his chest flared up again, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  He’s going to make it!  He’s not going to die!  The treatments will work.  They have to work.

Feeling someone sit down beside him, Starsky’s eyes flew open.  A pretty young woman in jeans and a polo shirt had made herself at home, and was in the process of putting her sneakered feet up on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles.  Her long sandy hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and she looked as if she wore no makeup at all.  She clasped her hands on her belly and turned to give Starsky a warm smile.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied awkwardly, wondering if she was waiting for someone too.

“You waiting for a patient?” the cheerful girl asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.   “Radiation therapy.”

The girl nodded knowingly.  “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?  You’re left out here, not knowing what’s going on, all wrapped up in your fears and worries.  Is it your wife?”

“No,” Starsky replied automatically.  “It’s my …husband.”  He smiled to himself, aware that the comment was bound to evoke a shocked reply, but not caring.  It felt good to indulge in the things that other couples took for granted, just as Hutch had wanted him to do.  Somehow it made him feel like Hutch was right there with him.

The comment didn’t ruffle the girl at all.  “I’m sorry.  I know it’s hard to watch him go through this.”  Her expression showed great understanding.

Starsky liked this girl.  It was rare for him to find someone he could talk to, who could relate to what he was experiencing.  “How about you?  Are you here waiting for your husband too?”

She shook her head.  “No, I work here.  I saw you sitting in here, looking miserable, and thought I’d come by and introduce myself.  I’m Bunny Salizar.  I’m one of the social workers on staff here.”

“Your name is Bunny?” Starsky blurted out.

Her mouth curved into a beautiful smile.  “My business cards say Roberta,” she confessed, “but sooner or later everyone ends up calling me Bunny anyhow, so I’ve given up the fight.  And you are…?”

“I’m Dave Starsky.  Everyone just calls me Starsky.”  He held out his hand, and she returned a firm handshake.  “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you too, Starsky,” she answered.  “I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances.  How is your husband doing?”

“He’s doing fine so far.  This is the first week.”  He drew in a deep breath and expelled it.

“Scary, isn’t it?  Not knowing?”  She shook her head.  “You don’t know what he’s going through, you don’t know what’s going to happen down the road…”

“I hate when we have to be pulled apart like this.  I wish I could be in there with him,” he sighed. 

“You want to see him?” she offered.

“No,” he lied.  “I don’t want to interrupt the session.  I just… wish I could talk to him, be there for him, you know?”

“Come with me,” she invited happily, getting up.

“Oh no,” Starsky declined, remaining right where he was.  “He’s in the middle of his session.  I’d feel foolish…”

“Relax,” Bunny interrupted.  “You won’t be stopping or interrupting anything; it’s like 15 minutes of preparation, one minute of treatment.  I’m gonna show you how you can talk to him, share this with him.”  She reached down and took his arm.  “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Ken Hutchinson.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed.  “Hutch!  You’re Hutch’s partner!”

“You know Hutch?”

“We met earlier this week.  I make it a point to meet all of the new patients here.”

“And all the sad sacks in the waiting room?” Starsky grinned.

She winked.  “Yep, them too,”

She brought him directly to the radiology lab, and knocked on a door.  Pulling a reluctant Starsky in with her, she confidently introduced him to the technician who was treating Hutch.  “Randy, this is Starsky.  He just wants to come in and watch, and say hi to Hutch.  You don’t mind do you?” 

Starsky could see Hutch though a large window, but Hutch appeared to be either sleeping, or just laying with his eyes closed.  There was a clear plastic mask over his face, and he was lying on a form fitting chair.

Randy grabbed a chair and pulled it up for Starsky.  “No, I don’t mind.  Have a seat Starsky.”  He pointed to a microphone and said, “Just press this button and talk into that.  Don’t get too close.  Yeah, like that.”

“Hiya babe,” Starsky spoke into the mic.

Hutch’s eyes flicked open immediately.  “Starsk?”

“Just wanted to say hi.  I met a friend of yours.  Bunny said I could come in and chat with you for a minute.”

“I knew I liked that girl.  Tell her thanks for me.”

Bunny leaned over Starsky’s shoulder and pressed the button.  “You’re welcome.”

“She asked me who I was waiting for, and I told her my husband,” Starsky informed him.

Hutch laughed.  “Did you really?  I love you.”

“I love you too.  I’m gonna go back and let Randy here do his job.  Just wanted to say hello.”

“Thanks Starsk.  I won’t be much longer.”

Starsky and Bunny walked back to the waiting room, with Starsky in much better spirits than earlier.  “Thanks, Bunny.  I didn’t know I could do that.  It’s good to see for myself that he’s okay in there.”

“It’s good for him too.  He perked up the second he heard your voice.  He’s probably been lying there worried about you out here all alone.”

Reaching into her back pocket, Bunny pulled out a small case.  She took a business card from it, and handed it to Starsky.  “Here’s my card.  You can call me anytime.  You or Hutch.  I’d be glad to help if I can, like just now, or even if you just need to talk.  And my office door is always open.”  Then she added, “But if you show up unexpected during my lunch hour, be so kind as to bring me a burger or something, will you?  I get grumpy if I miss my lunch.”

************
WEEK TWO

************

Over the weekend, without having had any treatments, Hutch seemed to perk back into his old self.  He still wasn’t eating, much to Starsky’s chagrin, but he didn’t seem as tired or slow of gait.  And as if Hutch’s good disposition was rubbing off his partner, Starsky’s swagger and confident air rebounded, even though he hadn’t realized he had lost them.

The following Monday however, the nausea began.  They decided, or rather Dobey decided for them, to stay at the precinct after lunch and finish the reports they owed.  Starsky looked up at one point when the tick-tick of the typewriter across from him had stopped and saw his partner staring down at the black keys and leaning to the left.  He reached over and tapped the end of his pencil on Hutch’s desk to draw his attention.

“Hutch?  Hutch, you okay?”

“Huh?”  Blond hair flew in all directions as Hutch shook his head to clear it.  “Sorry, Starsk.  Started to nod off there for a minute.”  Deep blue eyes filled with concern bored through Hutch’s soul as his partner tried to get a bead on what was happening.  He smiled wryly over the desks.  “Honestly Starsk.  I was feeling a little queasy for a minute, but I’m fine now.”

Starsky stared for a half minute more.  “You wouldn’t be thinking of lyin’ to me would you?  Remember, I can tell when….”

“… When I’m not telling the truth.”  Hutch finished the oft-said sentence.  “I know.  And no, I’m not covering up.”

“Then why aren’t you telling me what you’re going through Hutch?  Why all the pretense?  That’s what I’m here for.  ‘In sickness and in health’, right?”

Hutch looked down at his lap.  “Sorry Starsk.  I just, I want to make things as easy for you too.”  He raised his head and looked directly at his partner and lover.  “My throat’s been sore a lot and I think I’m getting some canker sores in my mouth too.”

“That’s why you’re not eating much, then?”

Reluctantly Hutch nodded.  “Yeah, it just hurts too much.”

“Hutch you could’ve told me.  We’ll just get stuff to eat that’s a little easier on ya.  I can live on applesauce and ice cream for the next couple of weeks, as long as you let me have the occasional chili dog.”  He added with a grin.

“And baby food?”

Starsky crumpled his nose.  “Baby food?  That’s gross Hutch.  Even grosser than your usual health shake concoctions.”

“What’s this about baby food?”  Unbeknownst to the two detectives, Dobey had entered the squad room to make sure his men were doing as he requested.  “I hope to God it doesn’t mean what I think it means?”

Starsky leaned back and looked up at his superior.  “And what do you think it means, Cap’n?”

“Never you mind, just get back to work on those reports and quit stalling!”  He hung around for a few more minutes grabbing some coffee and pulling files, while glancing over his bent head to make sure his men were working.

********

Tuesday evening found Starsky sitting by Hutch’s side again as he watched the prone man sleep heavily.  Hutch was exhausted when they got home and immediately took a shower and went to bed without eating.  Starsky wondered how much longer he would be able to keep up the pretense of being able to work.  Always so strong for everyone else, ain’t ya babe?  But then the mask drops.  And if so, what was that all about today, huh?

Starsky thought back on the 245 they’d been called to that morning.  A young woman had been assaulted, robbed, and almost raped when two uniformed cops happened upon the situation.  They chased the suspect into a small diner on porno-row and he held them at bay behind the counter with a Python similar to Hutch’s.  While the two young uniforms flanked the man from the side, their hands on their pieces the entire time, Starsky and Hutch approached him from the front.  Rather than following procedure to talk the man into surrendering, Hutch had continuously walked forward toward the pointed weapon, while speaking softly to the alleged perp.  Starsky could tell by the violent jerks of the man’s hands and the wild, rushed look in his eyes, that he was on something.  When he brought his gun arm up, Starsky dove to protect the young women at the table next to him, and Hutch jumped straight into the line of fire and tackled the gunman.  No shot was fired, but for several seconds, Starsky’s heart almost burst through his chest.

When all was said and done and the perpetrator was on his way to the booking station, Starsky turned to confront Hutch about his reckless action.  Seeing the question in his eyes though, his partner turned away and refused to talk, so Starsky let it go, hoping it was an aberration.

Starsky watched his partner closely all week and finally realized what Hutch was doing.  His partner left work earlier since he had gotten sick and Dobey ordered him home.

God damn you Hutch!  Taking risks like that because you’d rather…Starsky couldn’t finish that thought.  I thought we were done playing supercops after the Gunther hit went down.  He slammed the file drawer shut after pulling out the last form he needed for the day.

“Watch it Starsky!  That isn’t your property, Detective Starsky, so don’t go around treating it like it was Hutchinson’s car door.”  Captain Dobey was standing at the opened door of his office.  For such a big man, he carried himself lightly and Starsky hadn’t even realized he was there.

With a tilt of his head, Dobey indicated he wanted to see Starsky in his office.  Closing the door behind his curly haired detective, the captain indicated that he take a seat.

Starsky waited until Dobey was seated behind his desk before asking what was up.

“You tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Point blank Starsky.”  Dobey looked directly into his eyes.  “What’s up with your partner?”

Oh shit!  How do I handle this without Hutch?  Starsky looked down at his shoe crossed over his knee and began playing with the laces.  “Hutch?”

“Don’t play the dumb cop routine with me Starsky.  And no pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.  I want to know what’s going on with Hutchinson.”

Coughing, Starsky asked him why he thought anything was wrong.

“Several reasons.”  Dobey opened a folder on his desk and began reading aloud from it.  “First on Tuesday he places himself in the line of fire without reason when there were two other cops in addition to yourselves at the scene.  Secondly, I had a report from Officer Dyer that you responded to a call on the docks and that the two of you were heard arguing after the fact that the call wasn’t for your jurisdiction.  Thirdly, he ran out in front of a speeding hijacked armored vehicle yesterday and according to the witnesses he was going to let the driver hit him, if it wasn’t for the gunshot wound to the arm throwing the driver off balance and turning the wheel.  Fourth, this morning…” he didn’t get a chance to finish as Starsky cut him off.

“Okay, Cap’n, I get it.”  Yeah, I get it all right.  I can’t stop running those images through my head myself.  “But in all honesty I can’t say anything without Hutch bein’ here himself.  I made a promise.”

Dobey folded his hands together on top of the desk and looked at his slumping detective with compassion.  “Starsky, if there’s something going on with Hutch that’s letting him make rash and impulsive decisions in the field, then perhaps he needs to talk with someone professionally.  We do have doctors equipped to handle our emotions when they get the best of us.”

“Yeah, well no offense Captain, but your doctors won’t be able to help Hutch any more than…”

“Any more than what?  What are you holding back on me Starsky?”  Both men stared at each other, neither wanting to give.  Finally Dobey looked away and sighed.  “Let me ask you this: is Hutchinson able to handle himself