Comments about this story can be sent to: valerieww@aol.com or MyBuddy1975@aol.com

Carol & Valerie Wells

   You okay?" Starsky asked.

   Hutch, still breathing hard, thought about it for a moment and raised his eyes to his partner's. He gave a brief nod. "Yeah."

   Starsky gave him a quick pat on the back and unzipped his jacket to put his gun away. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled his handcuffs loose. Hutch watched as Starsky knelt next to Grossman, who was still pretty groggy from his fall down the stairs, pulled the man's hands behind his back and cuffed him, none too gently.

   "You have the right to remain silent," Starsky began, but Hutch didn't listen to the familiar words. It was all he could do not to grab Grossman from Starsky and choke the life out of the sorry sonofabitch.

   But that wouldn't bring Gillian back. She was gone...

   The truth of that was still just sinking in. But he knew the truth. And the truth was, it hurt like hell. Hutch blinked his burning eyes. Not here.

   "Do you understand your rights as I've explained them to you?" Starsky finished with a glance at Hutch. He knew that expression, that barely-controlled rage behind his partner's impassive face. And he wasn't going to let anything mess up this bust. Grossman would pay, not only for what he'd done to Gillian, but what he'd done to Hutch by murdering her. They were playing this one strictly by the book. Grossman wouldn't have a legal leg to stand on.

   "Yeah, yeah," Grossman muttered crossly, but it was just a show of bravado. The creep's nervous twitch was worse than ever. Starsky helped Grossman to his feet and gave him a push to get him started walking. Hutch followed.

   "Hey, Hutch, when we get done bookin' this slime, ya wanna come home with me for a beer?" Starsky asked.

   Hutch nodded, running a weary hand through his hair and rubbing his eyes.

   "You sure you're okay?" Starsky asked, peering into his eyes. "You're lookin' kinda peaked. Tell ya what. Why don't you drop me and Mr. Personality here back at my car and you go ahead to my place? I can take care of bookin' him."

   They loaded Grossman into the back of the LTD and Starsky called in for a couple of black-and-whites to come get the other two goons and go pick up Olga Grossman at the massage parlor.

   Hutch was silent as they drove. His head was splitting and needed a drink. Badly. He pulled up outside Gillian's building where Starsky's car was parked, carefully avoiding looking at the building itself. His eyes wanted to find her window. But she was no longer behind it. She was in the county morgue.

   Starsky cast a concerned glance at him. "Hang on just a second, buddy, okay?" he said. He hauled Grossman over to the Torino, loaded him into it, and came back. Leaning into Hutch's window, he laid a hand on his shoulder. "Got your key?"

   "Yeah."

   "I'll be there as soon as I can."

   "Okay."

   Starsky bit his lip and hesitated, but finally backed away after a final pat of Hutch's shoulder. Hutch drove away as Starsky got into the Torino.

   He pulled up outside Starsky's place and went in, going straight for the fridge to grab the last beer. He slouched down on Starsky's couch, kicked off his shoes, and took a long, satisfying swig of his beer. Leaning his aching head against the back of the couch, he sighed heavily.

   Everything hurt, inside and out. There were so many unanswered questions and everything was all fucked up. And he was bone-tired. His eyelids grew heavy, but he needed to stay awake. He needed to talk to Starsky.

   Hutch didn't know how long he'd slept when he awoke suddenly to the sound of the front door opening. He blinked himself awake to find Starsky sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

   Starsky gave a slight smile and brushed a wisp of Hutch's ruffled hair out of his eyes. "Fall asleep?" he asked gently.

   Hutch nodded. "We're outta brew."

   Starsky held up a six pack. "Not anymore," he said. "Need one?"

   Feeling a bit awkward without really understanding why, Hutch nodded again. Starsky pulled two cans off the plastic rings and gave one to Hutch, setting the other down on the table. He took the rest to the kitchen.

   "I got more outside if we need it," Starsky called over his shoulder. He sounded as though he thought they probably would. He came back and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it at a chair and taking a seat next to Hutch. He picked up his beer and popped the tab. "The bastard's booked. He won't be seein' the light of day again in this lifetime. And I told Dobey we wouldn't be in tomorrow."

   Hutch voice trembled a little as he said, "What did you tell him?"

   "Nothin'," Starsky said promptly. He added quietly, "Only what I had to."

   Hutch smiled and reached out to touch Starsky's arm, meeting his partner's eyes with a grateful look.

   "Hey, if you wanna talk," Starsky said, "there's no one here but me, babe."

   Hutch bit his lower lip and nodded.

   "And if you don't wanna talk," Starsky went on, "that's okay, too."

   Hutch studied him for a moment in silence, and in that moment, he finally felt something other than rage and sorrow. The brief awkwardness of earlier was gone in an instant. Here was the one person who knew him best, the one person he competely trusted, the one person who could make him feel, always, something no one else in his life had ever made him feel...unconditionally loved.

   "I do want to talk about it," Hutch said hoarsely, struggling to keep his composure. "There are a lot of questions I need answers to..." Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by grief and confusion and pain.

   "Okay, buddy," Starsky whispered, compassion trembling in his voice.

   Hutch took a deep breath, leaned back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "Tell me everything."

   And Starsky did, as gently as possible. It was as painful for him to tell it as it was for Hutch to hear it, but Hutch wanted the truth...and they never lied to one another. Starsky's voice actually shook as he explained about Gillian's career back east, how Grossman had "pulled her out of the gutter" and what that meant. And what she'd done for Grossman in order to stay out of that gutter. When he finished going over the last couple of days, he looked at Hutch. Hutch swallowed hard and choked back the tears that threatened to fall.

   "But, Hutch, she loved you, babe," Starsky said. "She really did. You know what she said to me? She said, 'Wouldn't it be nice to be Hutch, and to have two people who love you so much?'" He sighed. "I'm so sorry, buddy. I'd give anything in the world to bring her back to you."

   Hutch's throat closed and there were no words for what he wanted to say. He knew who the other person of the two "who love you so much" was. Instead, he squeezed Starsky's arm.

   Trying to lighten the mood, Starsky gave a feeble grin and rubbed his jaw. "By the way, you got one hell of a right hook, pal." Hutch's face changed suddenly and Starsky realized that had been the wrong thing to say.

   Hutch made a strangled sound and stroked Starsky's face. "Oh, fuck, Starsky, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." He jumped up and paced restlessly, giving his empty beer can an angry fling. The fact that it was empty and didn't make a satisfying thud against the wall only made things worse. "I'm such a fucking loser. I can't do anything right. I fuck up everything."

   "Whoa," Starsky launched himself off the couch at Hutch. He grabbed his arm. "Listen to me, Hutch. It's okay."

   "It's not okay!" Hutch said in a choked voice. "I hate myself."

   Starsky grabbed his other arm, too, and forced him to face him. "Look at me, Hutch." When Hutch's eyes stayed on the floor, he shook him a little. "I said, look at me."

   Hutch raised his eyes.

   "I was just kidding," Starsky said earnestly. "It is okay. Don't be so hard on yourself."

   "I punched you!" Hutch said helplessly. "I fucking hurt you!"

   "Naw," Starsky said with a shadow of a grin. "You didn't hurt me."

   "I punched you," Hutch repeated stubbornly. "I can't believe I did that...what a fucking jerk I am--"

   "You are not," Starsky said sternly, "a fucking jerk. Stop saying that. It's beginning to piss me off." He still hadn't released Hutch's arms.

   Hutch shook his head sadly. His voice low and shaking, he said, "I wouldn't...I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world..." He couldn't continue.

   "Hey," Starsky said softly. "Come on. Look at me. Look at me!"

   Hutch obeyed. Starsky's were wet, but he was smiling.

   "Look," Starsky said with that little-boy grin, "if you can't punch your best friend, who can you punch? Huh?"

THE END