An hour later the two were comfortably ensconced in a back booth in a small diner located a brief car ride from the motel. With the skies outside graying over and darkening heavily, the atmosphere in the smoke-filled diner did little to lift the clouds that time and distance had placed between 'me' and 'thee.' Starsky watched as Hutch launched into yet another cigarette, the one vice that Starsky just didn't have the heart to attempt to try to keep from him.

   Starsky shook his head slightly and took a deep swig from his Coke bottle.

   "Coke for breakfast, huh?" Hutch laughed slightly, shifting slightly in place. "Still taking your caffeine carbonated, Starsk?"

   "Always, pally. Always. Never could take that tar you call coffee first thing in the morning. Afternoons or evenings, maybe, but not in the morning. Not when I really need it."

   Hutch shook his head slightly, crushing out his cigarette stub in the nearly filled metal ashtray to his right. How to start this? Where to start? How did a person try to summarize almost thirty years of his life in a matter of minutes? Or even, could they?

   He coughed briefly. "I suppose you don't smoke either, huh?"

   "Not a puff. Tried once or twice. Never got the hang of it, I guess. Plus, it tasted worse than that crap Abby used to make. You remember that Vitamin E gook..."

   Hutch laughed, really laughed, and sat back, feeling more relaxed than he had all day. "The things your mind holds onto..."

   "Yeah. It holds onto a lot."

   Once again that heavy blanket of silence fell between them and Hutch averted his eyes from Starsky's, swallowing slightly. "I don't know what you want me to say, Starsk," he began quietly after a moment. "I don't really have time for any long explanations..."

   "You'll make time, Hutch." Starsky paused, running a hand over his face briefly. "For Laura, you'll make the time."

   Hitting below the belt there, Starsk, he told himself.

   He couldn't help it. He had to get Hutch focused.

   For Laura, if nothing else.

   The name brought an immediate sobriety to Hutch's countenance and Starsky was surprised to see how much further those blue eyes could darken. "It's no use, Starsk," he admitted quietly after a brief pause. He reached for the pack of Marlboros but stopped when Starsky's hand clamped over his.

   "Talk to me, Hutch. You know something about this, don't you? About this kidnapping? You know something!"

   Hutch drew in a carefully measured breath and glanced around the room self-consciously. "Maybe," he admitted quietly after a moment, his voice gravely and emotional.

   "Hutch, no games! What the hell is going on? What are you not telling me here?!"

   Hutch glanced out the window a moment, taking time to formulate his tormented thoughts into some semblance of coherent sentences. He'd spent so much of the plane trip bemoaning the fact that Laura's abduction was, in part, his own fault, that he'd failed to think of a plan to get her back.

   Of course...it's hard to think when your mind is occluded, he thought sarcastically.

   "You gonna let go of my hand first?"

   Reluctantly, Starsky removed his hand, watching as Hutch reached into an inside jacket pocket and extracted a carefully folded note, which he tossed onto the table. "Read that," Hutch stated. "That should put things into perspective, I think. Better than I can, if nothing else."

   Starsky frowned and reached for the note as Hutch seized his cigarettes almost ruthlessly. As he read the document, Starsky found his eyes widening in disbelief. "My god," he gasped after a moment. " I don't believe it."

   "Believe it."

   "But how..."

   "You're looking at it, Starsk. You tell me."

   Starsky looked up, jaw open slightly. "You mean to tell me that this bastard has held a grudge against you for thirty years?! Has...has kidnapped and murdered half a dozen teenage girls just to get to you?! Somehow?! Kind of a sick, roundabout way to do that don't you think?!"

   "That's Solidad."

   Starsky leaned back in his seat, rereading the note. Antonio Solidad had been one of their worst cases to pin down. To this day, Starsky could remember the grisly murders Solidad had conducted over a period of not weeks, not months, but years. Almost three. Hutch stumbling upon Solidad had been a major fluke and earned the blond detective eternal enmity from the Mexican immigrant. Solidad came well connected and had sought to destroy Hutch through those connections for months afterward until the powers that were finally got the brains to transfer the weasel across country to a Federal Pen in upstate New York. Those had been horrible times for the duo. Somewhere between Gunther's first and second manipulative escapades, Solidad's men had nearly killed Starsky more than once, beat the crap out of Huggy several times, and had shot, stabbed, and nearly drowned Hutch before finally being apprehended in a shootout of massive proportions.

   Starsky thought he'd put that all behind him.

   Hell, he thought Hutch had too.

   Sighing, he shoved the note across the table and reached for his bottle of Coke, almost violently downing a healthy mouthful.

   "So you see why I didn't contact Cat or anybody? The second I did that, Laura was as good as dead. Hell, she might already be..."

   "Don't say that! How the hell can you say that?! You're her father for god's sake! How can you just sit there, drowning your sorrows, and give up like that?! I mean, my god...if I had a kid...I wouldn't...nothing would keep me from gettin' to her! I'd soon as die as to..."

   "You don't think I've tried?! Starsky, you obviously have a shorter memory than I do when it comes to Antonio Solidad! He's not some...some two bit punk we scraped off the streets! This guy, he...he got inside my head! Inside your head! Or have you forgotten that, huh?"

   Starsky shook his head. "I haven't forgotten. But I also haven't forgotten what a damn good cop you were. How you went up against this guy time and again without backing down once. The man shot me...you took him on, all by yourself, and by god, it took you a few times, but you got him, Hutch! You got him! Laura needs you...this isn't the way it was with Gillian, or with any of the other women you lost...she's alive, Hutch! Alive! But she won't be much longer if we don't do something."

   Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, Hutch ran a hand over his eyes briefly. "What do you suggest we do, Sipowicz? This isn't Bay City. We're not employed by the NYPD. In my book, that doesn't leave a helluva lot of options."

   Starsky leaned forward further. "You must've had something in mind, Blintz. Even drunk off your ass you wouldn't have just hopped a plane to the Big Apple without some reason."

   Hutch stared at Starsky, knowing damn well his friend was right.

   Too right.

   "I, uh...don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I wanted to check out the nightlife, huh?"

   Starsky grinned slightly. "Not on your life, putz. Out with it. What've you got?"

   "What? Got? What are you..."

   "Don't pull that innocent act with me, Sherlock. The Alzheimer's hasn't kicked in yet, buddy boy. I know that look. It's the 'I've got myself some evidence' look. Now spill it."

   Hutch was silent for a moment, crushing out the rapidly smoked cigarette. "It's not enough to get us anywhere, Starsk."

   "Lemme be the judge of that. Fork it over. I just got myself a date with divorce court for this, pal, let's see it."

   Hutch stared at his friend. "What?"

   Starsky immediately regretted what he'd said and sat back. "Nothin'. Forget about it."

   "Wait, wait...no, I won't just forget about it! What are you talking about, Starsk?

   "Starsk?!"

   Starsky swallowed and absently wound his fingers together on the table, drumming slightly. "Nothin', Hutch. It's nothin'. Just...Lizzie and I have been...well, it's been comin' for a long time..."

   His eyes traveled to the gold band on his finger.

   A long time.

   Hutch understood. Looking up, Starsky saw a hand on his, trembling slightly, but on his nevertheless.

   He smiled gratefully.

********

   "Hey, it works both ways you know."

   "Huh?"

   "This talking jazz. Works both ways. C'mon, Starsk. Out with it."

   Seated behind the wheel of the Sewing Machine, Starsky kept his hands clenched firmly around the object, steering through midtown with a steely determination on his face and in his forcibly compacted posture.

   He glanced at Hutch, who was handling things better than he honestly had expected him to after that little scene back at the motel. The tremors were returning, but Hutch seemed to be dealing with them fairly well. He was cold, shivering constantly, but not complaining any more. Instead, he was turning to Starsky's problems.

   Starsky wasn't sure if he liked that.

   "Starsk? You were telling me about you and Lizzie..."

   "Me and Lizzie...me and Lizzie. There ain't much to tell there, partner. Me and Lizzie haven't been seein' eye to eye for a long time. Last night, this morning...whatever...was the last straw. I think it's finally over." He drew in a breath and straightened his back slightly. Yeah, Dave, finally.

   "Sorry."

   "Ahhh...nothin' to be sorry for. Hell, you know about what happens when two people..." His words trailed off and he shot Hutch a wary glance briefly. "Strike that."

   "No. No, you're right. You're absolutely right. You don't have to sugar coat anything, Starsk. Why start now anyway?" Hutch laughed slightly, and there was a tinge of bitterness to his tone that his friend couldn't help but detect.

   "Next time I need a shrink, I'll know who not to call." Starsky turned the wheel hard, then gasped as he slammed on the brakes, so suddenly it sent the two men, both crammed into the front of the compact car, hovering forward and straining the seat belts that kept them from colliding with the dash and windshield.

   "What the hell..."

   "I see your driving hasn't improved any," Hutch quipped edgily as he swallowed and looked out at the reason why Starsky had stopped so suddenly.

   A teenaged girl had stumbled out in front of their car, her clothing in tatters and spattered with blood, as was her disheveled, tangled mass of blonde hair, and her expression was that of a deer caught in the headlights...literally.

   "Oh my god," Starsky exclaimed, quickly wrestling with the damn seatbelt and extricating himself from the car, not even aware that Hutch was instinctively following suit.

   The girl remained in place, almost fixated with the headlights of the Sewing Machine, her face unnatural in pallor. Hutch stopped, blinking in disbelief at the physical resemblance to his own daughter this girl held.

   Starsky, meanwhile, approached the girl. "Sweetheart...you okay? You all right?" He glanced at Hutch as he wrapped an arm around the shaking girl. "Take it easy...everything's gonna be okay. It's gonna be fine."

   Hutch turned away, his expression paling as Starsky watched the girl quickly back away from him and leave.

   "I got a bad feeling about that kid," he muttered.

   "'Course you do," Hutch swallowed after a moment, forcing himself to swallow some composure. "You nearly ran her over. Of course you feel bad, Starsky."

   Starsky shook his head. "No, no. It's somethin' else...I can't put my finger on it. I've got this...this feeling."

   "Oh man, Starsk, don't tell me you still believe in..."

   "Gut instinct?! Hell, yeah. And I remember a time when you did too, pal. Come on..."

   "We still going to look into this?" There was a slight glint in Hutch's blue eyes, a spark of the 'old' Hutch that nearly brought a tear to Starsky's eyes as he nodded and patted his friend's arm supportively.

   "You're damn right we are, pal. You up for it?"

   They remained in place for several moments, and Hutch felt that strange tingling at the back of his neck, a tingling he hadn't felt, literally, in years, that meant he and Starsky were on the same team. He smiled and swallowed a moment. "Damn right I am, Starsk. Damn right I am."

********

   "Lieutenant, sir, there's a couple of men here to see you, sir? Say their names are...Starsky and Hutchinson?"

   Brenner looked up at the clerk, his eyes widening slightly. "Did you say Starsky and Hutchinson?" He damn near dropped his pen on that one. These night shifts always seemed to find him the butt of some wise assed practical jokes...

   "This I gotta see. Okay, show 'em over."

   He leaned back in his chair and watched in curiosity, then genuine astonishment, as Starsky and a man that looked vaguely familiar approached. At the good-natured request of Starsky's mother, Brenner had checked up on Kenneth Hutchinson when the two had first been paired up. (Easy enough to do given his connections to several members who kept records for the national law enforcement personnel data banks.) He'd studied the guy's picture backward and forward and though this figure with Starsky now was older, there were definite similarities in the Hutchinson appearance that Brenner couldn't help but recognize.

   "Well, I'll be damned," he half-laughed as the two drew near and the clerk excused himself quickly. "Davey, son...I thought you told me that..."

   "Forget what I said, George. Forget everything I said. 'K? This here is Hutch. You, uh...do remember him, right? The drunken bum? The one I didn't deserve to be partnered with? Hmm?"

   Brenner's face flushed a noticeable shade of crimson as he leaned forward, eyes hardening as he looked up Starsky briefly, then stiffly he extended a hand to Hutch. "Nice to meet you, Hutchinson," he forced.

   Hutch smiled sardonically, returning the handshake with disarming familiarity. "I hope I made great reading material for you, Lieutenant," he quipped, much to Starsky's amusement.

   Brenner, however, was anything but amused.

   "If you're looking for information, I already told you, Starsky, there's nothing I can do. Neither one of you are policemen any more, in case you forgotten and while I'm truly sorry about what you must be going through Hutchinson..."

   "Bull." Hutch snapped, sobering immediately, his eyes hardening as his back stiffened tensely.

   "What?"

   "I said, bull. That's bull. We all know you don't give a damn about what I'm going through here, Lieutenant. If that were the case you would have gone out of your way to notify me the second you found out about my daughter's abduction."

   Brenner slowly got to his feet, hackles raised. "Starsky, I suggest you try and calm your friend down here before he says something he may end up regretting."

   Starsky studied Brenner a moment, looking strangely apathetic to his former mentor's entreaties. "Y'know, George...I think Hutch is a big boy here. I think he can speak for himself."

   "Thanks, Starsk." Hutch kept his challenging gaze on Brenner.

   "I mean, so what if he knows all about that little arrangement you made with my mother to check up on him from the day we were assigned? I can't believe Ma had you do that. Worse yet, I can't believe you actually went along with it! I didn't think Ma was the kinda lady to check up on me like that..."

   "Don't go putting your Mother down, David," Brenner retorted quickly. "She didn't have me do anything. I volunteered to make sure you got a partner worthy of..." His voice trailed off and he shifted in place, visibly uncomfortable. "She worried. The minute you entered the Academy she swore up down and crosswise you were going to end up like your old man because you had that same damn reckless streak he had! She was scared! She wanted to make sure that the guy you were with would be there for you, to back you up, to give you the protection your father didn't have."

   Starsky swallowed and drew in a breath for a moment. "Look...that...that's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned. The fact is, despite you or Ma or anybody else, I got me a damn good partner who did all that and more. Let's just drop that and find this man's kid, huh?"

   " What he means is, Lieutenant," Hutch added, his voice thick with forced civility, "...is that we would appreciate any assistance you could give us about this case."

   Brenner stared at them for several moments, looking at the two men in disbelief. "You two are outta your minds, you know that, Davey? You come in here, asking for info, first saying that you wanna help this down on his luck pal of yours, then blow out of here when I tell you there's nothing I can do. Now, the next morning, you walk in here, cocky as all get out...the two of you looking like something out of furking GQ no less...and demand that I help you with information! You must think I'm a total moron."

   " If it makes you feel any better, Lieutenant..."

   "Hutch," Starsky warned, throwing his partner a Don't piss off our only source any more look.

   Starsky leaned forward toward Brenner. "George, look I...I know I pissed you off earlier, running out like that and all and the way we came in here wasn't exactly subtle I guess, but...dammit, it's been so long! I don't have many connections left in this town, connections in the Department...connections to Pop. She's a sixteen year old kid, George. And besides..." He paused and drew in a breath, glancing at Hutch. "We have some information we think might be useful to you."

   The silence that followed was so thick with tension it could have been cut with knife.

   "This isn't something to joke around about, you guys. A kid's life is at stake."

   "We know." Hutch stated coldly. "But, unlike you Keystone Kops, we happen to know who who it is that's behind this and even why they're behind it."

   Brenner's expression paled and he slowly rose to his feet, turning his attention on Hutch. "What?!" He exclaimed after a minute, eyes practically bulging from behind his glasses. "What in the hell did you just say?! Did you say you two..."

   "You give us carte blanche, George, and we'll fill you in as needed." Starsky crossed his arms over his chest, a smug smile slowly upturning his lips. Man, I haven't done this in years, he chuckled to himself. A part of him regretted doing it to George, of all people, but...well, another part quickly discounted that with the reminder of the part Brenner played in keeping tabs on him during and just after the Academy.

   "Now wait a minute here, Davey boy...I don't appreciate you two comin' in here and thinkin' you can just blackmail me like this! Hutchinson, you of all people, shouldn't be playing games here! Your kid's life is at stake!"

   Hutch leaned forward, and in a voice deadly even, stated, "I know that. Too well. And this is as far from a game as it can get. It's more than business, Lieutenant. This is personal. Very, very personal. Now I would appreciate it, if you would let us take a look at what you have so far."

   Brenner threw Starsky a hurt look. "You know this is entirely against my better judgment, Davey..."

   "David," Starsky corrected. "The name's David, George. I ain't the same kid you remember. And as you yourself said, there's no time for games. We're all supposed to be on the same side here. You give a little, we give a little. Works all around."

   Anger flushed Brenner's face, but Starsky knew he'd give them the information.

   He only hoped that it wasn't too late.

********

   Seated side by side in the Sewing Machine as another New York night fell, the two friends studied the dilapidated building across the street. "Figures he'd use a dump like this for his base," Hutch muttered, checking and rechecking the gun he'd purchased before he'd left Montana.

   "You, uh, wanna tell me something?" Starsky asked warily as he watched Hutch's trembling fingers fumble with the ammunition.

   "How long have you owned that?"

   "This?"

   "Yeah."

   Hutch sighed, carefully closing the barrel and spinning it, taking a familiar sense of security as he returned it to the new shoulder holster he'd picked up along the way. "A couple of months. Not long," he replied cryptically. He wasn't about to tell Starsky that he'd gotten it to protect himself from a number of irate bar owners who were fed up with his drunken performances, and uh, other activities. Starsky didn't need to know that.

   Hutch looked at Starsky. "You own one?"

   "What? Don't be...yeah, of course, I do, but I live in New York, Hutch. It's almost expected 'round here. I just...didn't think to bring it with me."

   "What?! Oh, Starsky..."

   "Hey, don't look at me like that, buddy boy! I had no idea what I was gettin' myself into when I went out for a drive last night." He paused, noticing the strange look in Hutch's eyes. "Not that I really regret it, okay?"

   "We'll talk about it later, Starsk. Let's get that bastard."

   "Whoa, Hutch, hey...you're not Rambo, here, okay? You heard what George said...we could check it out, but not..."

   Angrily Hutch leaned forward, his right knee slamming further upward onto the dash. "Starsky, I am not about to sit back and let some 30 year veteran who once, for some reason unknown to man, seemed to have it in for me...I'll be damned if I sit back and let him tell me what I can or can't do when it comes to my daughter's safety! Do you...do you have kids, Starsk? Do you know what that's like?!"

   Pain flickered in Starsky's eyes briefly. "No. No, I don't have any kids, Hutch. At least...not that I know of." He paused, the thin attempt at humor falling flat in the increasing tension that passed between the two men. "But I do have my wits about me. I mean, Hutch...your thoughts aren't exactly crystal clear right now. You go blasting into that building without thinking and you're gonna do nothing but add another body to the mess? Kapeesh?!"

   Starsky had a point, he had to admit.

   Oh god, I need a drink, he thought.

   He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Starsky..."

   Starsky patted Hutch's shoulder briefly, glancing up at the building and freezing when he noticed a sedan emerging from an adjoining alleyway. "Uh oh..."

   Hutch followed Starsky's gaze. "You were saying, partner?" he quipped softly, with a slight lilt of sarcasm. "There might not be time for protocol on this...you realize this, of course."

   The two looked at each other again.

   "I haven't done this in a while, buddy," Starsky half-laughed, although there was apprehension in his eyes and the tense way his left hand sealed around the door handle.

   "And I have?!" Hutch muttered. There was a sobriety to him now that almost chilled Starsky and he swallowed slightly as he watched Hutch start to open his side of the car.

   Oh man, what are we doing?!, he thought anxiously. A couple of old guys, one of them a semi-functioning alcoholic, going to take on god only knows how many guys, armed to the teeth, after almost twenty years away from...

   Half-assed and half-armed.

   It felt good to be back.

   He drew in a breath and grabbed Hutch's arm before he could exit the car. "Um, Hutch?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Mind if I carry the gun? Uh, no offense, but...your hands aren't exactly steady right now."

   Hutch stared at him for several moments, obviously not liking facing the fact that Starsky was right. His hands were trembling. He licked his lips and swallowed as he glanced at the building. There's more than yourself involved here, Hutchinson, he told himself. A helluva lot more!

   Reluctantly he handed the gun to Starsky and climbed out of the car.

   Starsky exhaled slightly and followed suit, glancing anxiously toward the sedan that seemed devoid of any occupants now. He cursed under his breath as Hutch took off across the street with an agility and speed that Starsky envied. Damn joints...

   He was surprised at how easy it was to fall back into old habits, keeping to the corner of the building while his partner kept to the corner of the one opposite, both on either side of the sedan, their backs against the building fronts, both breathing a little heavier than they would have if they were a few years younger.

   Like twenty, Starsky thought sarcastically. Hutch, what in the HELL are we doing?!

   The gun felt like it weighed a ton in his sweaty hands, sweaty despite the evening chill, and he glanced at Hutch, who looked like he was huddling over, almost on the verge of collapse.

   Oh god, Hutch! Not now, buddy! Come on, not NOW! Pull it together...come on!

   Almost as if he'd heard , Hutch straightened and, gasping, nodded slightly toward Starsky and the doorway just a few yards behind them.

   It was surreal, the way they fell (albeit awkwardly and with a few near fatal missteps) into old patterns so that by the time they were actually in the building, it was almost second nature, again...watching out for each other, keeping to the walls, surveying the territory. It all seemed to be going well.

   Too well.

   They should have known better...

   Suddenly, as they rounded a corner of a long and dimly lit hallway, they found themselves facing Solidad himself, surrounded by a pair of armed guards who looked as if they had ingested steroids for breakfast.

   Oh shit!, they thought in unison.

   "Well, well, well," Solidad laughed, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the two. "If it ain't Sparsky and Clutch. Right on time, gentlemen. Right on time." He concentrated his gaze on Hutch, who straightened beneath the glare. "Look a little whipped, Hutchinson, man. Years ain't been kind to you at all, have they? How about a drink, huh? Or maybe...maybe a shot? Hmm? Got some heroin around here someplace, I think..."

   Hutch swallowed as Starsky shot the well-dressed Solidad a withering look. "That's some sense of humor you got there, pally. Save it for Sing Sing. 'Cause that's right where you're heading as soon as you turn over the Hutchinson girl."

   Solidad chuckled. "Big words for a guy in your position, Starsky. Big words for two guys who are over the hill...." He concentrated his gaze on Hutch again. "And out of luck. You want your girl, Hutchinson? We'll take you to her. Hell, depending on my mood, I just might let you two say your good-byes before we get rid of the three of you..."

   "Oh well, can't beat that generosity," Starsky muttered.

   "You went to a helluva lot of trouble just to get me here, Solidad," Hutch stated, his eyes flashing dangerously, yet never wavering from Solidad's. "It's me you want, isn't it? It's always been me. From the beginning. Well, you got me. No reason to keep Laura...or Starsky for that matter."

   "You let me be the judge of that. Let's go."

   "Wait a minute, wait a minute...where we goin'?"

   Solidad threw Starsky a disdainful look. "You aren't going anywhere. Your buddy here is going to meet his little girl so she can watch him die." He nodded toward the men and watched as one seized Starsky and the other Hutch.

   "Bastard! You think...you think we came here alone, Solidad?" Desperately, Starsky tried to play for time, watching as Hutch seemed almost resigned to being led away by the goon. Hutch, buddy, do something dammit! Say something! Don't just...don't just give UP like this, man! For god's sake!!

   "Give it up, Starsky. You've been out of the game way too long to think I'd fall for a childish ruse like that. Take him outside. Make sure he ain't talking by the time we finish here." Solidad watched as Starsky was led, struggling, back down the hall, cursing the entire duration. He chuckled and turned to Hutch. "And as for you, Hutchinson..." He stepped closer and grabbed Hutch's coat, pulling him so their faces were only inches apart. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long, long time, gringo."

   Hutch remained silent, his gaze as resolute as he could make it.

   Keep cool, Hutchinson, he told himself. Keep cool and use your head.

   He swallowed carefully. "I bet you have," he managed after a moment, his voice forcibly even as the smell of Solidad's exotic cologne made him want to retch.

   "Si...si. You've made my life a living hell for a long time, Hutchinson. And I just wanted to return the favor, though I see that Nature has beaten me to it in large part." He nodded toward the thug holding Hutch. "Take him in with his daughter. We'll give them five minutes, then take care of things. I've got a shipment coming into port in twenty minutes and I want this part of my past over and done with as soon as possible." He glanced at Hutch and smirked. "Especially since I really don't have that much work to do to get rid of it."

   Hutch remained silent and allowed himself to be led back down the hall to a door, which the thug opened and promptly shoved him through, so hard that Hutch literally fell to the floor as the door was locked firmly behind him. He lay there, dazed, for a couple of moments before he heard a familiar voice squeak, "Dad?"

   He found himself being led into the alley with the car, his assigned thug altogether way too confident that Starsky wasn't going to try anything with the barrel of a .357 nestled in the hollow of his spine.

   He drew in a breath and glanced around briefly. "Hey," he said. "Mind if I tie my shoe?"

   "What?"

   "Do you mind...if I tie...my shoe? Preferably without being ribbed by the end of that piece, huh? Trust me, big guy. I'm not lookin' to die earlier than I have to. I just would like to go out with tied shoes, if you don't mind."

   The thug frowned. "Okay, wise ass. Go ahead."

   "Thanks. You're all heart." Smirking, Starsky carefully started to kneel. Noticing the thug's slackened grip on the gun, he took quick advantage of the situation and thrust his elbow back, full force, into the man's groin, immediately doubling the muscled man.

   Picking up the discarded gun, Starsky, puffing only slightly, stood above the man and noticed a pair of handcuffs, conveniently protruding from the back of the man's slacks. "Well, well, well, isn't this swell. Lookee what we've got here. Regulation police cuffs. I hate to ponder where you happened to come by these beauties. Come on, Twinkle toes! On your feet!"

    With an amount of strength that surprised himself, Starsky somehow managed to haul the groaning man to his feet and shove him against the sedan door nearby. After handcuffing his prize to the car door handle, he leaned forward. "Okay, big guy, keys."

   "What?" The man rasped, still smarting.

   "Keys! You know, little metal things that normally open and run cars? Unless of course you're an expert with wires, but that's a whole other story. Gimme the keys to this thing. Now."

   "What...what makes you think...I..."

   Starsky shoved his face down against the door. "Don't play games with me. Give me the keys or I give you one helluva headache you won't forget for a long, long time."

   "Coat pocket."

   "What?"

   "I said....I said they're in the coat pocket. Right hand side."

   Carefully Starsky reached around and into the man's windbreaker jacket where, sure enough, he latched onto a set of keys. He leaned back. "Good boy," he quipped as the sound of sirens drew his attention to the end of the alley.

   He watched as a trio of police cars arrived on the scene, one unmarked but bearing the unmistakable Mars light gleaming in the windshield. Starsky glanced at the building entrance and blanched as he walked over to them, noticing Lieutenant Brenner as he emerged from the unmarked car.

   "George, what the hell are you doing here?"

   "I was going to ask you the same question. We got an anonymous tip a deal was going down in this area and someone mentioned this building as a possible location for the hub of the activity." He glanced at the sedan. "Who the hell is that?"

   "No time to explain. Gimme a Kevlar."

   "What?!"

   "Hutch and his daughter are in there with Solidad...there's not much time." Starsky's eyes studied the older man intensely.

   Reluctantly, Brenner nodded after a moment. "Okay...okay. This is going to get my ass canned for sure, but I was looking to retire anyway. Okay, but you take Vargas and Hamilton with you, you got that?" He nodded toward two uniformed officers, who quickly donned Kevlar vests as Brenner tossed one to Starsky.

   "Got it." Starsky smiled slightly, gratefully, his mind reeling with thoughts of what Solidad was doing to Hutch and the girl.

   As he donned the vest, his heart heavy and thudding madly in his chest, he had a chill run down his spine and a brief recollection of Gunther's men.

   This time, however, he managed to dismiss it as Brenner gave him a sawed off shotgun.

   Gotcha you bastard, he thought. Now if Hutch can get HIS demon...

********

   "Laura?"

   He carefully sat up, blinking in the dim lighting provided by the bare bulb swinging slowly overhead. Less than a foot away, her knees pressed against her chest, arms wrapped protectively about herself and looking as if she had been through one hell of an ordeal, was his daughter.

   His heart sank at her appearance, at the torn and blood spattered clothing, the gaunt appearance, and sheer terror in her once vibrantly blue eyes. "Yes, baby," he whispered, tears springing to his eyes as he carefully started to crawl toward her. "It's Dad, sweetheart. It's...it's me." He started to reach for her, but winced as she drew back.

   Oh god, she doesn't even recognize me, he thought in anguish.

   "Honey...I...I know it's been awhile, but...but I...it's me. You gotta...you gotta believe me, sweetheart."

   She studied him for several moments, her eyes welling up slightly as she trembled. "Wh...where have you been?" She stammered after a minute, her voice cracking. "Where have you been all this time?! Where were you when I needed you?! Why couldn't you stop this from happening to me?!"

   His heart broke as she dissolved into tears that wracked her slender frame. No words he could have said to her then would have helped. He knew that. All he could do was try to hold her which, to his relief, she let him do, leaning against him further as he tightened his arms around her and cradled her close.

   That is, until the door opened and Solidad appeared. "Isn't that just sweet," he leered. "A real Kodak moment. I see you said your good-byes, Hutchinson. That's good. That's real good. Might give your girl a little comfort while you rot in the depths of Hell..."

   Hutch's simmering anger and resentment toward Solidad, anger and resentment he'd been successful to suppress (more or less), now exploded to the surface and he couldn't control his actions. Any thought of ramifications completely exited his mind as he got to his feet and threw himself toward Solidad. He even blocked out his daughter's terrified screams as the two started to struggle, a violent fight that, at one point, sent Hutch sailing backward against the wall so hard he was dazed and started to slide to the floor.

   "You pathetic wretch," Solidad sneered, hefting him by his collar. "You can't even fight like a man anymore. You're worthless. A worthless drunk. You disappoint me, Hutchinson. For all your self-righteousness back in Bay City I never would've figured you to turn out to be such a loser. Not even worth my time ending your life. You've done it for me." He threw Hutch backward again and watched as the former detective slunk to the floor, gasping and clasping his trembling left arm and side in pain.

    Solidad turned his attention toward Laura. "Looks like Daddy won't be able to save you, little girl." His expression darkened. "Let's see if you can save yourself." He launched himself toward her, and though she frantically tried to scramble out of reach, he was upon her, crushing her to the floor with his weight, laughing as she screamed.

    Hutch managed to lift himself up on one arm and saw what Solidad was doing to Laura.

    He saw red.

    Thoughtlessly he picked up a jagged piece of wood that lay nearby and launched himself toward Solidad again. As if sensing Hutch's attack, he rolled off of Laura and shoved her away, so hard that her head connected with the wall and sent her unconscious immediately.

   With an almost primal rage, Hutch tried to attack Solidad with the board, but Solidad was far too powerful and easily knocked the potential weapon out of Hutch's tremoring hands. He soon had Hutch pinned to the floor, the wood poised deliberately over the sweating, panting man's chest. "It all comes down to this, Hutchinson!" He cackled. "Almost thirty years of hating your guts and seeing you die in my dreams, night after night after night...and at last, it comes true! Let me tell you one last thing before I kill you, eh?" He paused and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from Hutch's. "I'm going to have a very good time with your daughter when you're gone."

   With a howl of primal rage, Hutch somehow managed to find the strength to slam a hand upward and bend Solidad's wrist backward, so much that the man yelped in pain and released his hold on the wooden stick. It was a momentary distraction, but a distraction nevertheless, and gave Hutch an added opportunity to use the other hand to slam a fist as hard as he could across the man's jaw, taking no pleasure in seeing Solidad fall away to the floor nearby, stunned.

    Solidad didn't remain stunned long enough.

    As Hutch labored to get up, Solidad recovered enough to yank a gun from his jacket and aim it at Hutch's chest. "Enough of this. I'm sick of playing with you, Hutchinson. Time to meet your maker and I sure hope he's got plenty of Jim Beam on hand..."

    Hutch closed his eyes, readying himself for the impact of the bullet.

    But strangely enough it didn't come.

    There was a shot, but when he opened his eyes again, Hutch was surprised to see Solidad lying, face down, on the floor of the room, his back covered in blood, and a familiar figure standing in the doorway, holding a sawed off shotgun.

    "Starsk?"

    Starsky smiled slightly. "Right here, Hutch. Right here."

    Hutch smiled slightly, then remembered his daughter and turned to where she lay unconscious a few yards away. "Oh god..." He gasped, crawling to her and carefully easing her onto her back. "Laura...sweetheart...."

   "I'll get an ambulance," Starsky nodded. "And be right back. I promise I'll be back."

    Through tear-misted eyes, Hutch looked up at Starsky, cradling his daughter's inert form. "I'll hold you to that, Gordo. I'll hold you to that."

********

   "I still can't believe this is happening," Starsky muttered.

   Hutch glanced at his friend and laughed, leaning back in his seat and glancing at the sun dappled scenery that was passing him by. "You know somethin', Starsk, if you say that one more time..."

   "Oh come on, Hutch! You can't blame me for being just a little in awe here, can you? I mean, for one thing...how in the hell did you ever come by a restored '74 Torino?! Huh?! It's perfect! Perfect!" Smiling broadly, Starsky leaned his left elbow on the open window sill, unable to keep the excitement from his face and voice as he piloted the vehicle down the highway.

   "Oh well, it wasn't restored when I got it, believe me."

   Starsky glanced at him, frowning. "When you got it? How the hell long have you had it?"

   "A while. Let's just leave it at that. " Hutch glanced out the window. "Say, when we hit the next rest area can we stop? I need to call Cassandra."

   Starsky nodded slightly. "Glad to hear Laura's doing okay."

   "Better than okay. She's doing super. School's going well and it's all set for when I get settled, she's coming out to visit for a few weeks."

   "Hey, that's terrific! Cassandra seems to have, uh...mellowed out some."

   A strange expression passed over Hutch's face for a moment. He kept his gaze out the window. "We, uh...we came to an understanding in the hospital, waiting for Laura." He glanced at Starsky. "I'm sorry about Lizzie, pal."

   "Don't be. Truth be told, Hutch, she and I had been going downhill for a long time. "

   "You regret leaving New York again?"

   Starsky threw him a wide-eyed look and laughed. "Are you out of your mind?! Hell no! I've been wantin' to leave ever since I moved back! Besides...Lizzie's parents are back there." He shuddered. "There's a part of my life I'd really rather forget. You shoulda seen their faces when I told 'em about that damn Sewing Machine."

   Hutch laughed. "You didn't really blow it up, did you?"

   "Truth? Nah. But it was hard to resist THAT temptation let me tell you!"

   "So, uh...what'd you do with it? Give it back to Lizzie?"

   Starsky pushed the bridge of his sunglasses further up on his nose. "Nope."

   "Give it to her parents?"

   "Nope."

   "I give up. What'd you do with the damn thing?"

   "Gave it to George for his retirement."

   Hutch was silent a moment. "Hey, listen, I...I'm sorry they forced him out like that..."

   "Hey, don't be. He told me he'd been itching to leave for years. Truth is, he said, he was glad he could help. He, uh...apparently, he hadn't been used much in the past few years if you know what I mean."

   Hutch didn't reply, but he knew what Starsky meant.

   He knew exactly what Starsky meant.

   "So he's okay?" he asked after a moment.

   "Oh hell yeah. Said he'd send us a postcard from the Bahamas. He and Mildred have enough of their retirement saved up to last 'em a couple of lifetimes."

   "Great, great."

   "Which reminds me, Blondie. You've been throwing around a helluva lot of money around I've noticed. This car, the duds, the luggage, the wife and kid's support...you, uh...you're not, um...I mean, you didn't do anything..." Starsky's voice trailed off.

   Several moments of silence passed between the two before Hutch chuckled slightly, adjusting his own sunglasses as he looked out the window and reveled in the warm breeze . "Don't worry, Starsk. In my drunken haze I didn't go robbing any banks or anything. It's some of my trust. Dad passed on a few years back."

   "Oh. Hey, I'm sorry, I..."

   "Don't be. We never...we never really saw that much of each other. I didn't want this money. I told him that. He, uh...he insisted on giving it to me anyway." Hutch frowned for a moment, then brightened as he turned back to Starsky. "So what better way to use it than to move back to where we both were happy, huh?"

   Starsky was silent a moment. "There's just one thing, Hutch."

   "Yeah?"

   "If we're gonna do this partnership thing...I mean, if we're gonna go into business for ourselves...you know what we need to do."

   Hutch glanced at his hand, that was still twitching. He reached into the pocket of his suede jacket and pulled out a slightly rumpled pack of Marlboros and started to light one. "You don't have to say it, Starsk. I've gone this long without a drink. I can lick this thing. I can. You'll see."

   Starsky said nothing, hoping and praying that this was going to be that new beginning they both so desperately needed.

   It's been a long way home, partner, he thought.

   A LONG way.

THE END