Reggie

   "Okay, this is what we know," Hutch said, barreling into Dobey's office without knocking. He barely acknowledged the uniformed officer he'd inadvertently shoved into the wall when he pushed the door open, and the man beat a hasty retreat before the door could catch him swinging back.

   "Hutch - "

   Hutch completely ignored the attempted interruption, putting his sheaf of notes on Dobey's desk and pacing back and forth across the room as he spoke. "From what I can tell of Starsky's notes, he'd been able to contact all but these two people on his list. I've got their names cross-referenced on the computer here, and I've also sent the information to Washington and New York, on the off chance there's some Federal information available, or they came from so far back that maybe there's a connection with his father - even Joe Durniak's a possibility we can't ignore. He's dead, but he had a lot of known associates who are still alive and might hold some sort of a grudge against one of his friends."

   "Hutch - "

   "I know it's a long shot, but we have to try everything, right? As for my list, there's three names left on it. I thought initially that whoever we were looking for didn't want to be caught, but now I'm not so sure that this isn't all some elaborate type of riddle, like he or she wants us to figure it out. I mean, why go to such lengths unless there's some point to it? We both know there are far easier ways to kill a cop. I even thought of Prudholm, but he's still serving his time. Still, I've got the hospital shipping us any records of his contacts since he's been in isolation. They said there wasn't much, but they should be here in a couple of hours." Hutch swallowed, hard, and Dobey took the opportunity to interrupt, again.

   "Hutchinson - "

   "The lab results from Starsky's house didn't give us anything to go on - not that I was really expecting them to, since this is turning out just like the last time. The place was wiped so clean they barely knew Starsky lived there, much less being able to identify anyone else. At least I know I didn't mess up any evidence by lumbering around the scene so long before I realized what was going on - "

   Frustrated in his attempts to get Hutch to stop talking and calm down, Dobey finally pulled out all the stops. "Ken."

   Hutch's reaction was immediate. "No," he said, barely managing to keep his voice at an even keel, and pointed an accusing finger at his Captain as if he'd been physically threatened by the man. "No, don't do that to me. We don't know that this is that bad."

   "Hutch," Dobey sighed, relenting. "Sit down, would you?" He waited until Hutch collapsed into a chair before he continued. "Nobody wants Starsky found more than I do - " he started, before Hutch lasered him in a pointed blue gaze. "But even I realize that you killing yourself trying to solve this kidnapping single-handedly isn't going to do him or you any good. So cool it, okay?"

   "I can't just cool it, Captain," Hutch spat out, bitterly. He stood up and resumed his pacing, like a sheer burst of adrenaline-fueled energy might have the power to make his two-days-missing partner magically appear in the doorway, ready to chew them both out for arguing loud enough to be heard by the whole department. "He's out there, somewhere, maybe hurt, maybe dead - or on his way to being dead. We have to find him."

   "I know we do!" Dobey shouted, standing up and banging his hand on his desk for emphasis. "But I don't want to lose both of my best detectives on the same case, understand?"

   "Perfectly!" Hutch shouted in response, and then, as if realizing the futility of arguing about which one of them was more desperate to get Starsky back, sat down again. "I'm sorry, Cap," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm just not thinking straight these days."

   Dobey nodded, and sat back down in his own chair. "When was the last time you went home? You've been awake nearly forty-eight hours, and you've only changed clothes in all this time because you had those in your locker." Hutch opened his mouth, like he wanted to protest, but Dobey cut him off. "I know you've been sleeping - if you can call it that - on a bench in the locker room, ten, maybe twenty minutes at a time. You can't go on like this, Hutch. I'm ordering you to go home, get some sleep, and come back here ready to get back to work."

   "Cap - "

   "That's an order, Hutchinson," Dobey said. "Don't make me throw you in a holding cell overnight, because I'll do it. I'm ordering a black-and-white and two officers to escort you home."

   "That's not necessary."

   "You think I'm going to let you drive in your condition? That would be gross negligence." He picked up his phone and connected with the desk, ordering Hutch's escort team to come to his office immediately and telling them in no uncertain terms to use any means necessary to deliver their 'package' safely at his residence.

   "Okay, okay," Hutch said, finally, already mentally planning on a way to divert this trip, at least a little, from what the Captain had laid out for him. "I give up, I'll go home for a couple of hours. But if you hear anything, if anything comes in tonight about Starsky and I don't hear about it immediately, I won't be held responsible."

   "Fair enough," Dobey nodded. "As long as you realize that goes both ways, you know. We have the tap on your phone, but I want you to call me immediately if you hear anything." He called out to Hutch as he left the office, "And don't try bribing my officers, either!"

********

   Today we took a walk up the street
   We picked a flower and climbed the hill
   Above the lake
   And secret thoughts were said aloud
   We watched the faces in the clouds
   Until the clouds had blown away
   And were we ever somewhere else
   You know, it's hard to say

********

   As it turned out, getting to his 'slightly revised' destination didn't require Hutch to procure any bribe, although he would have been more than happy to do so if needed. Mackie and Dennison drove him directly to Starsky's place without even questioning his need to be there; Hutch knew that the two of them had been partners for almost as long as he and Starsky, and he thanked them as he exited the black-and-white, almost toppling over when the fresh night air hit him in the face. He righted himself and walked to the front door, watching as the car parked itself in a reasonably inconspicuous position as lookout before he went inside.

   He had to tear through the still-intact yellow tape and was startled to find the door locked, but he'd somehow remembered to take his keys the last time he'd left, and they were still in his jeans. Even so, his hands shook as he unlocked and pushed open the door.

   He couldn't remember what the day had been like, couldn't even remember if he'd been outside to see any of it, but it was cool inside the house - chilly, even, and more empty and echoing than he could ever remember it being since Starsky moved it, even on the couple of nights he himself had spent here alone after the shooting. It was such a long drive out to Venice Place after a full day of work and an evening of visiting his partner in the hospital, he took advantage of the relative closeness of Starsky's place to crash. He hadn't even realized what he'd been doing at the time, how the sight of Starsky's books and photographs and other things, and even the lingering scent of him that remained in the house comforted him, and reminded him that his partner wasn't lost for good, not this time, that he was just away and would be back soon.

   Of course, that time Starsky had only been a phone call away, or a drive back to the hospital if Hutch suddenly needed to see him, to sneak around the head night nurse who didn't like him and threw him out and find the younger, more sympathetic ones who did and let him stay.

   He hadn't told Starsky that first night that he was intending to come back and sleep at his place instead of going home - hadn't even known, really, when he reluctantly left the hospital - but somehow, Starsky just knew.

   He'd fallen asleep on the couch, the tv on and only half of his beer gone, when the phone startled him awake. He fell on the floor and it was the seventh ring when he finally managed to snag the phone receiver.

   "H'lo?"

   "Do me a favour and check the milk in the fridge, wouldja?" Starsky asked, without preamble. "I think I got some in there that might be evolving into a higher life form by now."

   "Starsk?"

   "And the newspaper - you should pick up my newspapers. Maybe just call the paperboy tomorrow and tell him to stop delivering until I get out of the hospital."

   "How'd you know I was here?" Hutch asked, when he finally gathered some of his sleep-addled wits about him. "And why are you awake? Are you feeling okay? Are you in pain again? Dammit, you know better than to lie there and suffer - just press the call button and they'll bring you more pain medication, Starsk - "

   Starsky's patient voice interrupted his diatribe, and Hutch fancied he could hear his partner's eyes roll. "I'm fine," Starsky said. "I woke up an' you were gone an' I remembered the milk, so I called, okay?"

   "Okay," Hutch said, in a tone that completely belied his agreement. He sat up and rested his back against the seat of the couch, running his fingers through already unruly strands of hair.

   "Whatcha doin'?"

   "Watching tv," Hutch lied.

   "Anything good on?"

   "Uh," Hutch said, peering at the television. "Some spaghetti western."

   "Clint Eastwood?"

   "I think so."

   "Aw, man," Starsky said, petulantly. "If I turn onna tv now, that Nurse Patton is gonna give me hell for disturbing her other patients." Hutch heard rustling sheets, and knew that Starsky had turned in the bed. He could only manage to lie in one spot for so long before the still-healing wounds demanded he try another position. It was that discomfort that limited his sleep to only a few hours - sometimes a few minutes - at a time, and it was just another in a seemingly endless litany of abuses committed against Starsky that made Hutch hate James Gunther more and more each day. Prison was too good for him, and so was death; only a complimentary torture lasting the rest of his miserable life would be punishment enough.

   "You sure you're okay?" he asked, softly. "I could be back there in twenty minutes."

   "Twenty?" Starsky asked, incredulous. "You started driving your own car again?"

   "Funny, Starsk," Hutch said, dripping sarcasm. "I'm serious. You want me to come?"

   "I'm fine," Starsky said, without any of his previous long-suffering tone. "Just - talk to me a little while, okay? Till I get tired again?"

   "No problem."

   They talked for an hour about everything and nothing, Starsky having to quickly duck the phone receiver down under the covers and pretend to be asleep when the nurse came around to check on him. Hutch wondered that she didn't notice the bedside phone was off the hook, but figured maybe it was Peggy, or Sandy, who were both almost as accommodating and indulgent of Starsky's less-than-hospital-regulation needs as he himself was.

   It was only when Starsky began to yawn in between his words that Hutch suggested they hang up, promising to stop by and see him in the morning on the way to work.

   "Bring me a donut?" Starsky yawn-asked.

   "If I keep smuggling in donuts for you, you're going to weigh three hundred pounds by the time you get out," Hutch teased, all the while thinking to himself that if it could put some weight back on his partner he would personally install a gourmet kitchen in his hospital room and make him Beef Wellington every single meal.

   "Chocolate okay?"

   "Make it chocolate glazed," Starsky said. His words were noticeably slurring, by now.

   "Say good-night, Starsk," Hutch chuckled into the phone.

   "G'night, Starsk." Hutch was about to hang up the phone when he heard a sleepy but urgent, "Hutch?"

   "Yeah, buddy?"

   "Don't forget the milk."

   Hutch chuckled. "I won't. Go to sleep, dummy."

   "'Kay." Another yawn, and then one final, "Hutch?"

   "What?" That came out a little more irritated than Hutch really felt; he just wanted Starsky to go back to sleep and feel better.

   "I just wanted to say thanks. Y'know, for saving my life."

   He couldn't say anything in return, and kept holding the receiver up to his ear long after it clicked off, and even when it started to buzz angrily he didn't let go. He didn't hang up until the operator came on the line and ask him if he needed assistance, unable to make any words squeak out around the enormous lump in his throat, barely able to see to cradle the receiver on the phone through the sheen of his tears.

********

   And I never saw blue like that before
   Across the sky
   Around the world
   You're giving me all you have and more
   And no one else has ever shown me how
   To see the world the way I see it now
   Oh, I, I never saw blue like that

********

   Tonight, though, there were no phone calls to wait for - not from Starsky, anyway. He should have gone home to wait for word; his phone had been tapped the moment this all started, even though he hadn't been home in days, and Dobey's was, too, as a precaution, but they hadn't heard anything from the kidnapper or kidnappers, and Hutch was fighting a losing battle to continue to hold on to the hope that they ever would. He was tired and frustrated and he wanted someone to show up suddenly and make it all better, because he didn't think he could. Every lead just led to another dead end, every scrap of information he could come up with was useless, and he was starting to think that he was useless, too.

   So he'd come here. Every time he'd ever had those thoughts - that he was a fraud, a charlatan, a mediocre cop, a middling musician, or even a less-than-worthy human being - all he'd ever had to do was come here, to where Starsky lived, and lean on his partner's shoulders and listen to the man bolster his spirits and self-esteem with nothing more than a few words. Starsky had actually thanked him that night not so many years ago for saving his life, when he'd done nothing, not really - he hadn't come between Starsky and the bullets, had he? He'd caught Gunther, but not in time to pull the bullets out of Starsky's battered body and make it so they never happened in the first place. And he had never once thanked his partner in return, for coming between him and the disaster of his own mind so many times he couldn't begin to count them all. He'd never thanked him for giving him support, and friendship, and love.

   He'd never once thanked him for the love - not overtly, not in words, like Starsky thanked him all the time. You did something for the guy, even something little, and he was all over you like an eager puppy, practically licking your face to show you how happy he was with you. You gave him a little gift and it was like you invented chocolate ice cream and the burrito single-handedly.

   He went so out of his way to make other people feel good that other people went out of their way to be kind to him, to say hello, just to smile. Even that Starsky smile was a gift most people were eager to receive during the course of their day. No, what did he do but insult the guy and brush him off, call him 'dummy' and 'idiot' because he was too embarrassed to really show him how much he loved him? After long enough, it seemed like that was love, but it wasn't, not really. It was something that was too afraid to be love, and he was so afraid of the real thing that he had to challenge it all the time, push it to see how far it would go, when it would stop. If he didn't let himself feel it, then it wouldn't hurt so much when it was gone, right? And it would be gone, eventually; everyone went away.

   That was the worst part, even though with unconditional love you didn't have to do anything to get it, it was there even if it was undeserved and unacknowledged. Starsky's love was just always there, and it was always supposed to be there. Starsky was always supposed to be there; but the fragility of that belief was what Gunther's bullets were supposed to remind him of, and never let him forget. He'd seen them, over and over, in his nightmares, in the scars on Starsky's chest, in the murderous gaze of the man himself that never seemed to stop haunting him, and still he hadn't managed to learn the lesson they were trying to teach him. He was supposed to hold on to every day like it might be his last, and he was supposed to be grateful for every single minute.

   He wanted to collapse, but didn't dare go near the bedroom. Memories overwhelmed him - the most recent, of finding it empty, but even before that, of finding some long-forgotten part of himself in there, with his partner. With his lover, if he ever dared to utter that word. Was it more true with Starsky than it had ever been with any woman he'd ever held, or did it just feel that way? Could he even love the man, or would his love just overwhelm them both? It felt so enormous, all the time, caught up in his chest and pressing against his ribs and his lungs, that he knew if he ever allowed himself to unleash it, something would happen. In the past, 'something' had always been bad - it had been Jeanie Walton, and Gillian, and Van. Now, he'd been so careful, but it didn't matter: Starsky was lost, Starsky was hurt, Starsky was gone. He'd always joked that Starsky had nine lives, but they'd both stopped counting a long time ago, and he didn't want to know how many of them were left.

   He should have done it that night, of course, counted the scars and made love to them, taken away all their power, made them disappear. It was his fault for being afraid and overwhelmed, too afraid to do anything but take. And even then it was okay with Starsky - it was okay with him to pretend it had never happened, forever or as long as Hutch needed to pretend.

   He'd finally decided to just give in and try, to reach out and see what would happen, if he'd get his hands slapped or burned right off from the scorching heat of his partner's body. But this time, like all the others, it was too little, and too late. Some god saw fit to play with him again, to mock him and what he thought he needed, to show him the prize but never let him get close enough to have it as his own. He was used to it, had grown almost comfortable with the transience of so much of his life, but this was too much. He was finally willing to play by the rules that life handed him.

   Only, he didn't know if even this sacrifice would be enough.

********

   I can't believe a month ago
   I was alone, I didn't know you
   I hadn't seen or heard your name
   And even now, I'm so amazed
   It's like a dream, it's like a rainbow
   It's like the rain
   And some things are the way they are
   And words just can't explain

********

   "We never had that good of a relationship. Even when I was a kid, all I could ever do was question you. I didn't get what I wanted, and it was your fault. Maybe I was too quick to judge, or maybe you were. I don't know.

   "The thing is, he believes in you," Hutch continued. "Don't ask me why, after everything he's seen in his life. He may not know what you are or why you do the things you do, but he believes in everything, so why should you be any different? Me, I'm not so sure - haven't had a whole lot of proof in my life up to now, okay?

   "Except," he mused, "maybe, I don't know - maybe he's supposed to be my proof that there is good in the world, and maybe I have to get hit on the head every once in a while to remember that. But not this way! Why the hell does it always have to happen to him for me to get it? Why aren't you coming after me personally, huh?

   "Because you know, don't you? You know that in order for me to feel pain, you have to hurt him. Well, I'm telling you right now, it stops here. I'm finished. It's over, and I'm willing to make you one last deal to prove it." Hutch walked into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door, intending to fortify his resolve with a beer. Instead, what he saw almost immediately was a jug of milk. He pulled it out and sniffed it, then chuckled, almost hysterically. "Of course, Starsk, it's bad," he said, pouring it down the sink. "You're the only person I know who almost never drinks milk but almost always has some in the fridge." He opened the fridge again, but found he'd lost his taste for oblivion. Or maybe he was just too tired already, and he left the beer inside. He moved like the walking wounded back to the living room, stopping every few steps to gather his strength.

   "I think maybe I finally figured out what you're trying to tell me, here. It's taken me a while, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm the stubborn type. Sometimes, I only see what I want to see, and not what's really there.

   "But I think I get it, now. Jeanie, Gillian, Van - those were shots below the belt, but I survived them. You forgot about my safety net, didn't you? You teased me a couple of times, but I never really believed you'd ever take him completely away. But now I get it. I understand, and I'm willing to come to an arrangement that maybe we both can live with.

   "Okay," he said, as he sank back down on the couch. "Here's the deal: I get him back, I get him safe, and I won't love him anymore, okay? You can have him, and he can have someone better than both of us, someone who deserves him. I just get to see him every once in a while, be around him sometimes, know that he's okay. So, is it a deal? If I give him up, will we finally be even?" The house was almost deafening, mocking in its silence, denying him any answers to his questions.

   "Goddammit!" he shouted. "I asked you a question! Is it a deal?"

   The phone rang.

********

   And it feels like now
   And it feels always
   And it feels like coming home

********

   "Yeah," he said, into the phone, scribbling things onto his notepad in the shadowy darkness, hoping against hope that he'd be able to read his own writing after he hung up, now that Starsky's life literally depended on it. "Yeah, I understand. Yes, I know you're serious. I will come alone. I will do everything you ask, but I have to know, first - is he alive?" He waited, not even daring to breathe, like even a little thing like his own respiration might have the power to jinx the answer before it was given. "Yeah, I know what you told me, but how do I know - ?" he asked, and then the crackle of the phone connection being cut turned into the buzzing of a dial tone.

   It took him a few stunned minutes to move, to rush over to the closest lamp and knock it over in his haste to turn it on. He made himself stop and just breathe until the dizziness went away, and then he carefully righted the lamp and switched it on. He scanned what he had written, gratefully realizing that the scrawls were still decipherable, if only just. He had an hour to get it together and get to his destination, but he had more to do than even the kidnapper realized. Or maybe she did.

   It had been a little gratifying to hear 'her' voice, and think that perhaps they were on the right track, but even though he strained to catch the slightest hint of familiarity, he couldn't place the low, feminine tones. He shook his head to make himself stop mentally re-playing the conversation and concentrate on the here and now. First, he had to get himself together, then he had to get rid of his bodyguards. He was going to have to get some money - enough to justify waking up Merle "the Earl" at this ungodly hour of the night so he could get himself another car, one that would be harder to follow. Or maybe he'd just tell Merle the car was for Starsky, knowing the gruff old grease monkey would do just about anything for his partner, like so many of the other people in his life.

   "And what if it was you, Hutchinson?" he asked himself. "Would there be a posse of more than one riding to your rescue?"

   He took another deep breath and went to the door, then tore it open, braced himself for the performance he was about to give, ran over to the black-and-white and pounded on the window.

   "What is it?" Dennison asked, frantically rolling the window down.

   "Just got a call," Hutch said, panting. "From the kidnapper."

   "In Starsky's house?" Mackie said, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. "Dammit! The one place we don't have the phones tapped."

   "What'd he say?"

   "He wants a drop at 535 South Maricet," Hutch said, grateful for Dennison's automatic assumption of the kidnapper's gender. "He wants me to come alone."

   "You're not going to," Mackie warned.

   "Of course not," Hutch said, his tone dismissing the suggestion as ridiculous. "I'll call another unit to relieve you and get the lab boys over here to tap the phone - just in case things change and the guy calls back, maybe we can get a trace. I want the two of you to go to Captain Dobey's house personally and bring him back here - we're going to set up our command post here instead of at the station, okay?" Dennison glanced at his partner, who seemed like he wanted to protest, but Hutch angrily slammed his hand on the door. "Dammit, we don't have time to argue about this, okay? Starsky's life is on the line, here, and I have to get ready!"

   "Okay," Mackie said. "We'll go get the Captain. I think you should come with us, Hutch."

   "No!" Hutch said. "I - I've got to be here in case this phone call was just a test. Maybe the guy watching us, and he'll call back. If so, someone needs to be here."

   Dennison nodded his head. "Let's go, Mackie."

   "Thank you," Hutch said, relieved. "I'll be right here." He waved the car away, and then bent over and rested his hands on his knees, taking a few deep breaths. He had even less time, now; Dennison and Mackie would be driving lights-and-sirens to Dobey's place and back, and he had to call that other unit and the lab boys in before he left.

   He fished out keys to the Torino, started it, and hit the police scanner, requesting a lab unit and backup at Starsky's place. When he finished the call, he turned off the scanner and immediately pulled out of the driveway, squealing the tires angrily as he headed in the opposite direction, directly for Merle's garage.

********

   I never saw blue like that before
   Across the sky
   Around the world
   You've given me all you have and more
   And no one else has ever shown me how
   To see the world the way I see it now
   Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before
   Oh, I, I never saw blue like that

THE END

The sequel to this story is Savior