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Carol & Valerie Wells

So this is who I am
And this is all I know
And I must choose to live
For all that I can give
The spark that makes the power grow
            "Immortality" by Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb

   Huggy refilled Hutch's beer mug and set it in front of him. "What's the big mystery, anyway?" he asked. "And what the hell's keeping your partner?"

   Hutch shrugged and glanced at his watch for the third time. "You got me. All I know is Starsky said for us to meet him here tonight at ten. And here we are. But no Starsky--" he broke off as the door opened and Starsky breezed in, half an hour late and beaming from ear to ear.

   He sat down on the stool next to Hutch, close enough their shoulders were touching, and patted the top of the bar. "This round's on me," he said, tossing a companionable arm around Hutch and giving him a brief hug. "Congratulate me, gentlemen. I'm gettin' married."

   Huggy clutched the edge of the bar for support and stared at Starsky as if he'd never seen him before. Hutch stared, too.

   "Lydia?"

   "Who else?" Starsky demanded, his grin getting wider. "I just asked her, and she just said yes."

   "So what the hell are you doing here?" Hutch demanded, staggered but unable to resist the temptation to tease Starsky a little. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with your lady?"

   "Already did," Starsky said, picking up Hutch's beer and downing a huge swallow. "She's gotta get up early, so I took off. Had to tell you guys the news."

   Hutch and Huggy exchanged a glance.

   "Wow," Hutch finally said. Then a wide grin appeared and he unashamedly threw his arms around Starsky and gave him a bear hug. "Congratulations, buddy. That's terrific."

   Huggy grinned, too, finally getting his bearings again. "I'll be damned, Starsky. You lucky bastard. She's a real find. Too bad she's gettin' stuck with you, though." He pretended to dodge a blow, but Starsky was too happy to even play along.

   Instead, he just sat there and beamed at both of them. "You're right. I'm the one who's gettin' the best of the deal, and she knows it, too. But she loves me anyway."

   "Hey, maybe if you get right to work, Huggy and I'll be uncles in nine months," Hutch teased.

   Starsky stood, straightened his jacket and gave a saucy grin. "Seven months." He started to walk away, but Hutch wasn't about to allow that. He reached out and grabbed Starsky's sleeve just in time to yank him back.

   "What was that, pal?"

   Starsky tried to dim the wattage of his grin, but it just couldn't be done. He finally gave up. "I said it's only gonna be seven months. She's pregnant. She just found out a few days ago."

   "Starsk, you're not getting married just because of that, are you? That's never a good idea--" Hutch began.

   "I was gonna ask her anyway, buddy. And she didn't even tell me she was pregnant until after I asked," Starsky said.

   Hutch relaxed.

   With another wicked grin, Starsky added, "Can't accuse me of shooting blanks, anyway, can ya?"

   Hutch dissolved into laughter, as did Huggy, and Hutch made Starsky sit back down for a celebratory drink.

   That one drink turned into several and by the time all was said and done, neither Starsky nor Hutch was in any shape to drive. Huggy had long ago locked the door and stumbled upstairs to his apartment there, and finally, arms around each other for support, Starsky and Hutch followed. It wouldn't be the first time they'd crashed on Huggy's carpet.

   Huggy blissfully slept crosswise on the bed, on top of the covers, still wearing his shoes. Hutch made it as far as the armchair before his knees gave way, and Starsky simply plopped onto the floor, tugging ineffectually at his Adidas.

   "Here. I'll help you," Hutch said, bending over and almost taking a header onto the floor. Starsky grinned and propped one foot on Hutch's knee so Hutch could unlace his sneaker for him, switching feet to let him get at the other one. Adidas and jacket off, Starsky stretched out on his back and folded his arms behind his head.

   After long moments of silence while Starsky examined the ceiling, he finally said, "Hutch, I been thinkin'."

   "It's always good to try new things," Hutch said with a wicked grin, still trying to get his own shoes off.

   Starsky smiled at the joke, but didn't answer it as he normally would have. Instead, his eyes grew serious as he sat up and looked at Hutch, and he said, "Something's worryin' me."

   Hearing that note in Starsky's voice, Hutch's expression grew serious, too, and he slid down on the floor to lie next to Starsky with his head propped on his hand. "What?"

   "Nah, it's crazy."

   "Starsk, if it's worrying you, you need to talk about it."

   Starsky sighed and looked down at his crossed legs, playing idly with the ragged hem of his jeans. After several moments of this, he finally said, "You ever notice how, every time I fall in love with a lady, something happens to her?"

   The "jinx." I should have known.

   They'd talked about it before. Neither of them seemed able to sustain a serious relationship. Hutch blamed the job. But Starsky...blamed himself. Not in so many words. Not so Hutch could refute it. But Hutch knew, just the same. Starsky, the superstitious one, the one who wore garlic to fend off vampires, believed there was something about him that put the women he loved in danger or drove them away. Helen. Terry. Rosey.

   "Starsk," Hutch began, but he wasn't sure what to say that would convince Starsky. "Buddy," he said, trying again, "Lydia loves you. I can see that. And you love her. And there's a baby on the way. Nothing's going to go wrong. You're going to get married and live happily ever after and I'm gonna spoil all six of your kids so rotten you're gonna hate me for it."

   Starsky grinned, a little unwillingly, and said, "Six? Ain't ya jumpin' the gun there a little, Hutch?"

   Hutch smiled back and reached out a hand to lay it over Starsky's arm. "You're going to be a terrific dad, buddy. That's a lucky baby, to have you for a father."

   Starsky reddened a little. "I am pretty excited about that," he admitted. "I mean, if it hadn't happened this way, I'd'a wanted to wait a while, you know? Till we had time to settle in and get used to bein' married. But since it did...." He got a little redder, and mumbled something too low for Hutch to hear.

   "What was that?" Hutch asked.

   "I bought a teddy bear for the baby today," Starsky repeated, a little louder, not meeting Hutch's eyes. "A white one. Like Ollie. I kinda...I hope it's a girl. I could spoil a little girl and hug her and stuff without bein' embarrassed. A boy might not want me to do that...."

   Hutch smiled again to hide the burning in his eyes. "You old softie," he accused affectionately. "Any son of yours would be as warm-hearted as you are and he wouldn't mind his old Dad givin' him an occasional hug any more than I mind it when you hug me."

   Starsky finally looked up and his eyes were a little bright, too. "But you and me are different, Hutch. We got somethin' special. I--" he stopped suddenly and turned his body so he was facing his partner. "I hope that don't change just 'cause I'm married."

   "It won't," Hutch assured him, but he had a sinking feeling it would. Oh, they'd still be best friends. Partners. Forever. He'd always be welcome at Starsky's house. He'd still see him every day, or most days, anyway.

   But that constant companionship would be gone. It'd have to be. No more late night drunks. No more camping trips or vacations together. Starsky would be needed at home. He'd have a wife, a child, responsibilities they didn't have now. Hutch couldn't call him at 3 a.m. anymore when he couldn't sleep. And Starsky wouldn't call him at 3 a.m., either. If Starsky couldn't sleep, he'd have a wife lying next to him to chase away the nightmares. He wouldn't need Hutch anymore....

   "Hey," Starsky said quietly. "I don't know how you ever manage to fool anybody undercover, buddy, because every thought shows on your face like a neon sign. You're thinkin' we won't be the same after I get married. That I won't need you as much. Aren't you?"

   No point in lying. Starsky could read him like a book. Hutch didn't even try. "Well, you won't, Starsk. You know it's true."

   "Hutch," Starsky said, leaning forward and fixing Hutch with a very straight look, "I'll never not need you, buddy. You're the best friend I ever had. I owe you my life dozens of times over. My sanity, too. And besides all that, I just plain like havin' you around. Lydia even said, and I quote," he grinned a little, "'If you and Hutch don't spend enough time together, you get as grouchy as an old grizzly bear. So don't go thinking you gotta spend all your time with me, got that, buster?'"

   Hutch laughed aloud.

   "I think that's why she chased me outta there tonight with that crap about needin' to get up early," Starsky went on. "She knew I was just bustin' to tell you and Hug--but mostly you--that we were gettin' married." He paused for a moment, his eyes still fixed on Hutch. "Will you be my best man?"

   "Aw, Starsk," Hutch's eyes filled, but he blinked the moisture away. "Of course I will."

Chapter Two

   Saturday night, Starsky brought Lydia with him to Huggy's where Hutch was glumly drinking a beer--alone--because his date for the night had come down with the flu and had to cancel. They were going to double with Starsky and Lydia and go to dinner and a movie, but Hutch felt like a fifth wheel without a date. When he saw the two of them come in, he tried frantically to think of a way to bow out of the evening gracefully.

   Lydia came straight to him and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Where's Sandi?"

   "Flu," Hutch said, putting an arm around her waist and returning the kiss.

   "Damn." Lydia looked at Starsky. "You got any old girlfriends hanging around loose you could lend your buddy, here?"

   Starsky shook his head, eyes dancing. "Nope. Threw out my little black book when I met you, darlin'. Besides, they all had better taste than that."

   Lydia gave him a playful swat on the behind. "Creep. Any girl in her right mind would love to date Hutch. Look at him." She put her hand under his chin and tipped up his face--although, even with him sitting on a bar stool, she was just barely above eye level with him--and she smiled at him. "He's adorable. He's handsome. He's talented. Oh, Hutch!" Lydia stopped suddenly and put both hands on his shoulders. "Hutch, honey, dear, would you do something for me?"

   "You want me to rescue you from having to marry my intrepid partner?" Hutch inquired with a grin.

   She shook her head. "Try again."

   "You want me to date your cousin who isn't much to look at but has a 'nice personality'?"

   She laughed. "No."

   "I give up."

   "I want you to sing at our wedding."

   Hutch's heart gave a leap--he suffered from a severe case of stage fright, though he loved to sing. "Lydia, I--"

   "Please, Hutch! Oh, it would be so sweet! Please? Pretty please?"

   If I can't say no to her, Hutch thought with a rueful grin, how the hell will Starsky ever be able to? "Okay, Lydia. You don't have to beg. What do you want me to sing?"

   Lydia beamed at him. "What a good boy you are. Thank you. I've always dreamed of having 'Annie's Song' at my wedding. And yes, David agreed to it, and we'll talk the rabbi into it somehow. Would you sing that?"

   Hutch gave a barely-perceptible sigh of relief. He'd been a little afraid she'd choose some horribly difficult song and his voice would crack. But he could sing "Annie's Song" all right. In fact, he could do a pretty good job with that one. "Sure, sweetheart. I'll sing that for you. Both of you," he added with a grin at his partner.

   They decided to skip the movie and have dinner at Huggy's. While they were waiting for their steaks, Starsky challenged one of the regulars to a game of pool, leaving Hutch alone with Lydia. She didn't have much interest in pool and Hutch found it easy to get her talking about the wedding plans. He enjoyed watching the excitement on her face as she talked about all the little details like her flowers and her bridesmaids, things that Starsky would probably know nothing about. But then, Starsky didn't have a sister, and Hutch remembered his own sister's wedding well. He'd been pressed into service more than once as an "impartial" judge of which veil went with which dress and whether roses or carnations were better suited to the bride's bouquet.

   But Lydia soon wound down and leaned forward, propping her chin in her hands and gazing at Hutch. "I want to talk to you, Hutch."

   "Uh-oh," he teased gently. "I have a bad feeling about this."

   She smiled. "Silly. I want to be sure you understand something."

   "Okay. What?"

   "I don't want to take David away from you," she said, her eyes growing serious. "I know how close you two are. I know how much you depend on each other. And I know what a White Knight you are, too. You won't call if you need him, or come over as much as you want to, because you'll think you're intruding. I'm right, aren't I?"

   Hutch wondered if his face really did betray his every thought, the way Starsky had said, or if Starsky had told her something.

   "David didn't put me up to this," she said sternly, sensing his mood. "I told him I wanted the two of you to spend as much time together as you want. Not just at work. Any time you want. You come over any time you want. You crash on our couch any time you want. Go off and do 'guy stuff' together. I don't want to monopolize him. Or own him. Part of what I love about him is you, Hutch. The two of you together. It's special, and I don't want to be the reason that changes."

   "Lydia, you're something else," he said.

   She grinned. "Thanks. So are you. So, do you promise? You won't be a White Knight?"

   "I promise. But you have to promise me something, too."

   She looked a little surprised, but she nodded. "Sure. What?"

   "Be good to him," Hutch said. "Take care of him. Love him."

   Her eyes softened, and she reached across the table to take Hutch's hands in hers. "I promise."

   "Hey," Starsky's voice said teasingly from behind Lydia. "You movin' in on my girl, partner?"

   Lydia turned her head to smile saucily at him. "We're just having a little talk, David. Go away until we're finished."

   Starsky shook his head at Hutch. "You hear that? We're not even married yet, and she's already givin' me orders."

   Hutch laughed. "Face it, buddy. She's going to be the boss."

   "That's okay," Starsky said, leaning over to kiss the top of Lydia's head. "I can think of worse things that could happen to me." She smiled up at him and he reached out to pull her to her feet. "But I can't let my partner monopolize your time, schweetheart," Starsky went on with a grin. "Come on. Dance with me. Hutch, play somethin' sappy on the juke, would ya?"

   Hutch grinned--and obeyed. He leaned against the bar and watched as Starsky pulled Lydia close, clowning and doing his "Ramon" character at first. But as the song played on, Lydia rested her cheek on his shoulder and he laid his against her hair and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her against himself like a precious treasure.

Chapter Three

   Hutch knew Starsky and Lydia were paying for their own wedding, and that it was a strain on their finances, especially with a baby on the way. Lydia's parents were retired--she'd been a change-of-life baby--and couldn't afford to help. And Starsky was the one who sent money to his mom, not the other way around.

   So, for a wedding present, Hutch dipped into his carefully hoarded savings and bought plane tickets for a weekend honeymoon in San Diego and booked a romantic suite in the nicest hotel for them for two nights. He wished he could send them to Hawaii or Cancun, but on a cop's salary....

   But Lydia's reaction when he told them what he'd done was as ecstatic as if he'd lassoed the moon for them. She clasped her hands over his, tears brimming in her dark eyes, and threw her arms around him in a bear hug. "You darling! You old softie! You shouldn't have." She drew back and tried to look stern. "We can't allow you to--"

   "It's too late," Hutch said, putting one arm around her and the other around Starsky. "I already did it. It's the least I can do for my best buddy and his girl. And my soon-to-be nephew or niece," he added teasingly, letting go of Starsky so he could gently touch Lydia's still-flat midsection.

   She blushed.

   Starsky didn't say anything at all, but he didn't have to. His eyes met Hutch's, and the look in them was all the thanks Hutch wanted.

   The night before the wedding, Starsky was so nervous he trembled. Hutch took him in hand and stayed with him to keep him from drinking too much--or not enough. Huggy had arranged a bachelor party for him at The Pits, and a couple dozen of their fellow officers were in attendance. But no strippers or other scantily-clad women. Starsky had been adamant.

   "It wouldn't be right, Hutch," he said. "Not with Lydia carryin' our baby and all. I wanna be a good husband and a good dad. And I want to stand under that canopy tomorrow with a clear conscience, watching my wife come down the aisle."

   Hutch blinked back the moisture that sprang to his eyes and lifted his beer mug to clink it against Starsky's. "You will be, buddy. You'll be the best."

   But by the end of the evening, when Starsky was feeling the liquor, he really began to have an attack of nerves. Most of their fellow cops had gone by then, and Huggy's was emptying out. Huggy was in the back, restocking his coolers, and Hutch and Starsky were sitting in a booth near the back.

   "Hutch."

   Hutch looked up from his beer to see stark, staring terror in his partner's eyes. He understood it--he'd felt the same way before marrying Vanessa, and with good reason as it turned out--but he wasn't about to let Starsky's wedding jitters overcome him.

   "Hutch, I'm scared," Starsky said. "I can't do it. I can't go through with it." He was actually pale and sweating.

   Hutch suppressed the grin that threatened, and instead reached over to put a hand over his partner's. "Starsk, take it easy. It doesn't hurt. You'll live through it. I promise."

   "You don't understand, Hutch! I don't know nothin' about bein' married or raising a kid or...."

   "Yes, I do understand, buddy. It's natural. I'll bet Lydia's scared, too. It's a big step. But it's the right step, Starsky. She loves you. You love her. Don't you?"

   He nodded, and a little of the terror left his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I sure do."

   "Well, then, buddy. It'll be okay. It's no different from living with somebody, except it's permanent. It's legal," he smiled a little, "and remember the baby? You want to run out on your baby?"

   "No," Starsky said firmly, and a little more terror left his eyes.

   "I'll be right beside you every minute. You're gonna be okay. I promise. You're gonna be okay."

Chapter Four

      Hutch watched as Starsky buttoned his ruffled tuxedo shirt with shaking hands. His own tuxedo was already on, including his tie, but Starsky was taking a long time to get ready. Outside the door, Hutch could hear the voices of the friends and family gathering for the wedding, but inside this anteroom it was deathly silent.

   Finally, Starsky reached for his bow tie and looked down at it helplessly.

   "Here, I'll do it," Hutch said, rising to go over to his partner and slide the tie under his shirt collar. Starsky helpfully tipped up his chin, and Hutch quickly tied it for him, making sure it was straight. "All done," he said, giving Starsky a pat on the shoulder.

   Starsky put the vest on, then the dark blue jacket. Lydia had asked both of them to wear dark blue tuxes, and her bridesmaids were wearing dark blue dresses.

   "You both look so yummy in blue," she'd said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

   Both men had blushed scarlet, but of course, they'd agreed.

   Finally, Starsky faced the mirror and examined himself.

   "You clean up pretty good," Hutch teased.

   Starsky smiled at him. "Is it normal to be terrified? Are you sure?"

   "It's normal," Hutch assured him.

   Starsky ran a brush over his thick, curly hair. His hands were still shaking, Hutch noticed. On the table lay two white yarmulkes, one for each of them. Starsky reached for one of them and settled it on his curls. Amazingly, it stayed put. Hutch had wondered about that.

   "Your turn," Starsky said, backing away from the mirror.

   "I never wore one of these before," Hutch said, trying to figure out what to do with it. Starsky had made it look so easy.

   "I'll help ya," Starsky said, taking it from him, smoothing the blond hair with one hand first, then placing it on his partner's head and peeking over Hutch's shoulder into the mirror to make sure it looked right from the front. "There ya go, Blondie. You'll fit right in."

   Hutch laughed. "I'll bet." He reached down and picked up the carefully folded prayer shawl. It had belonged to Starsky's father and grandfather before him. His mother had put it away after Starsky's bar mitzvah and had kept it for him, to give to him on his wedding day.

   Starsky glanced at it, then lifted his eyes to Hutch's. They stood silently for a moment, eyes locked, then Hutch shook the shawl out and gently laid it over Starsky's shoulders, straightening out the ends so they were even.

   "I think you're ready to go, buddy," Hutch said softly.

   "Oh, God, Hutch, I'm so scared."

   Hutch wrapped his arms around him and held him tight for a moment. "You're gonna be okay, babe," he whispered into his partner's ear. "Lydia's waiting."

   Starsky held on almost desperately tight, trembling, before drawing a long breath and loosening his hold. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "I'm all right now."

   Hutch patted his shoulder and turned him toward the door. "Let's go." But, as Starsky took a step, Hutch said, "Starsk?"

   Starsky turned.

   "I love you."

   Starsky smiled, a slow, easy grin. "I love you, too, Blintz."

~~~

   Neither of them had seen Lydia's dress until the moment she emerged, surrounded by her bridesmaids, to join Starsky under the canopy. She was exquisite, in a white satin gown with puffy sleeves and shiny little pearls swirling around the bodice. The pearls also ran down the sleeves, which ended in points at her wrists, and her filmy veil rested on her chestnut hair like a cloud. She carried a bouquet of white roses and blue carnations. She took Hutch's breath away, and he wondered how Starsky must feel. He tore his gaze from Lydia to look at his partner, and Starsky's eyes were starry with love. Hutch smiled at the sight. Then his eyes traveled down and he realized Starsky had forgotten to put on his dress shoes. He still wore his beloved blue Adidas. Hutch suppressed a snicker. It was pure Starsk. And appropriate, somehow. Besides, the tux was blue. At least he was color-coordinated.

   Starsky's mother noticed the Adidas at approximately the same instant and her eyes met Hutch's in a moment of shared amusement and fond understanding.

   But Starsky and Lydia were oblivious to everything but each other. The rabbi read softly from the wedding service in the reverent hush that filled the synagogue, broken only by an occasional sniffle from one of the mothers, Hutch wasn't sure which. He couldn't look away from the bride and groom. He'd never been prouder of his buddy, or loved him more, than he did at this moment. And his heart easily opened wide enough to admit Lydia, too. God bless her, he thought. Anybody that puts a look like that on Starsky's face.... She'd made Starsky happy. And that was good enough for Hutch.

   The rabbi was up to the vows. "Lydia Ruth Geisler, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband...?"

   "I do."

   "David Michael Starsky, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife...?"

   Starsky's voice shook, but it was emotion, not nerves, as he said, "I do."

   The rabbi paused after the vows and glanced at Hutch.

   He wasn't sure his voice would obey him at this point, but he turned and took his guitar from Huggy, who was standing by looking immaculate, as always, in his tux. Slipping the strap over his shoulder and strumming it once to make sure it was still in tune, Hutch gently played John Denver's ode to his wife, Annie:

   "You fill up my senses like a night in a forest
    Like the mountains in springtime
    Like a walk in the rain
    Like a storm in the desert
    Like a sleepy blue ocean
    You fill up my senses
    Come fill me again
   Come, let me love you
   Let me give my life to you
   Let me drown in your laughter
   Let me die in your arms
   Let me lay down beside you
   Let me always be with you
   Come let me love you
   Come love me again."

   His voice was steady most of the way through, but he was relieved to finish before he broke down completely. He handed the guitar back to Huggy, who passed it on to someone else.

   The rabbi smiled at the couple in front of him and held out the glass of wine. Both drank from it, then he wrapped it in a white cloth and laid it on the floor in front of Starsky. Hutch offered a steadying arm as Starsky raised his foot and stomped the glass into smithereens.

   A cheer went up from the watching friends and family, and cries of "Mazeltov!" rang out as everyone gathered around to congratulate and kiss the bride and groom.

   Starsky's mother was beaming from ear to ear, but there were also tears in her eyes as she kissed first Lydia, then her son. "He's a good boy," Rachel Starsky said to Lydia. "He'll be a good husband. And if he isn't, you call Ken and tell on him, and he'll straighten him out for you."

   Lydia laughed and slipped her free arm through Hutch's. "I'll remember that." She smiled up at Hutch, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

   "You look absolutely beautiful," he told her.

   "Thank you. So do you," she added wickedly.

   Now that the ceremony was over, Starsky had regained a little of his equilibrium, but he was still too pale.

   "Was it that bad?" Hutch asked in a low voice, arm around his buddy's shoulders as Lydia talked to some of her cousins.

   "I can't believe it, Hutch," Starsky said, eyes still wide with wonder. "I'm married. Me and Lydia are married."

   "How about that?" Hutch remarked with a grin. He hugged Starsky with the arm that was still around him. "Told you you'd live through it."

PART TWO