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Tam K

   Starsky hurried back to his frightened partner. Kneeling down next to him, he held the ice water to his lips. "Here ya go, babe. This will make you feel better."

   Hutch leaned towards the cup, drinking quickly. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was.

   "Easy, easy, not too fast," Starsky said gently.

   Hutch leaned back against the pole. Sweat rolled down his face. He saw the bomb squad coming towards him and became alarmed. "What’s wrong? Why are they coming over here?"

   "Don’t worry, Hutch. They’re just going to put a canopy over you to get you out of this sun."

   "Good, I bet I look like a lobster by now." Hutch tried to produce a half-hearted smile.

   The bomb squad members greeted Hutch and began setting up the makeshift canopy.

   Starsky opened one bottle of the saline solution and soaked the cloth with it. He began gently wiping Hutch’s sunburned face.

   Hutch closed his eyes, savoring the cooling sensation on his hot skin.

   "So, can you tell me what happened?" Starsky asked.

   Hutch opened his eyes and looked down, concentrating on the previous evening’s events. "After you dropped me off, I drove over to Vinnie’s Gym. Parked in the back, like I always do. I worked out, showered and headed out to my car. Before I could unlock my door, someone struck me on the back of my head. Knocked me out cold. I never saw who it was. When I came to, I was blindfolded and bound. I heard footsteps come into the room. I tried to talk to him, I assume it was a male, but he wouldn’t say anything to me. He just whistled."

   "Whistled?" Starsky asked surprisingly.

   "Yeah, whistled. I don’t even know what it was he was whistling now. My head hurt so damn bad. I could hear him building something. I guess it was this little present he left for me on my chest." Hutch winced as he felt a sharp pain.

   "Hutch, don’t try to talk too much. I don’t want you to hurt yourself." Starsky continued doctoring his friend. He checked the back of his head where the dried blood was.

   "I’m okay." Hutch leaned his head forward for Starsky to take a look at the golf ball sized knot on his head.

   Starsky wiped the dried blood from his wound and, taking both hands, carefully laid his partner’s head back up against the pole.

   Hutch continued, "The last thing I remember was getting a good swift quick to my ribs and being knocked out with a rag full of chloroform. Then I woke up here with half of the Independence Day celebration strapped to my chest."

   The bomb squad had completed erecting the canopy and returned to the truck. The much-welcomed shade provided some relief from the blistering sun.

   "He didn’t say anything that would give you a clue as to who he was or why he would do this to you?" Starsky was hoping for some overlooked detail.

   "No, nothing. Just that damn whistling. He definitely didn’t want me to know his identity." Hutch licked his dry lips. "Can I have another drink?"

   Starsky once again held the cup to his partner’s mouth. "You hungry?"

   Swallowing the cool drink, Hutch shook his head. "No, I, I couldn’t eat anything." He took a short breath as he felt another stab of pain.

   Starsky saw that his friend was hurting. "I’ll get one of the paramedics to give you a shot for the pain."

   "No!" Hutch said sternly. "No shots, please, Starsk."

   "Okay, okay. No shots." Starsky was all too aware of Hutch’s fear of needles. "Would you at least take a pill?"

   "No, I don’t want something that might knock me out." Hutch wanted to be aware of what was going on. He looked down at the bomb but was unable to see the clock. "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Fifteen hours, twenty one minutes." Starsky quickly changed the subject. "Look, we have to be overlooking something. Who could you have made angry enough that they would want to do this to you?"

   Hutch looked at his partner with raised eyebrows. "You know we wouldn’t exactly win any popularity contests on the streets."

   "I know, but to resort to this? There has to be someone. Forrest and his goons are still locked up, so it couldn’t be them." Starsky was mentally reviewing their last several cases. He snapped his fingers. "What about that guy you busted last week for roughin’ up that stripper? Stan, Stan Brantley. He’s out on bail now. Didn’t he say he was going to even the score with you one day?"

   "Yeah, but he was just blowin’ steam. He has a history of beating up women not blowing up cops. I don’t think it’s him." Hutch was deep in thought. His face brightened. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Yesterday, Vince Garrison. I killed his brother. That would be reason enough for him to want to kill me. He’s still on the run."

   "Yeah, you’re right." Starsky was optimistic. "He built the pipe bomb used in that warehouse blast. It only makes sense. I’ll find him, Hutch. I ran that partial license number through yesterday. I’ll check and see if anything has came back yet. I’ve got a good description of the vehicle." He stood up. "Look, I’m gonna have someone come and sit with you while I’m gone. Will you be okay?"

   Hutch nodded. Concerned that Starsky might be confronting the same person who did this to him, he cautioned, "You be careful."

   "Always." Starsky gave Hutch a reassuring squeeze on his leg and walked backed towards the units on stand by.

   Starsky filled the bomb squad captain in on the possible suspect. Jerry was hopeful about the lead. He informed Starsky that he was reviewing several diagrams from previous bombs that he had disarmed, looking for a way to bypass the detonator. Starsky thanked him and turned to the uniformed officers.

   Only two black and whites remained on the scene. With nothing more able to be done at the moment, the others were returned to their normal duties.

   The four attending officers had been briefed on the grave situation and were made aware of the volatility of the bomb. Starsky instructed that one of them was to stay with Hutch and keep him as calm and comfortable as possible while he tried to locate Garrison. One officer nodded hesitantly at his requests. Starsky then left in his Torino.

   Starsky had dispatch patch him through to Dobey. He already had been briefed on the situation. The dark haired detective relayed his suspicions of Garrison to his captain.

   "Cap, you do have an address on Garrison, yet?" Starsky asked hopefully.

   "Not yet, Starsky. Those first three numbers on that license plate haven’t turned up any matches. It may be a stolen plate." Dobey wished he had better news. Now knowing the urgency in finding Garrison, Dobey assured Starsky, "I’ll have every unit out looking for him. We’ll track him down."

   "Thanks, Cap. I’m headin’ over to Huggy’s to see what he can find out." Starsky hung up the radio mic. Dwelling on the possibility of losing his best friend, Starsky slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

********

   Starsky entered The Pits and sat down at the bar. Huggy immediately approached.

   "Hey, Starsky. I knew you’d be coming in." Huggy’s face was serious. "It’s all over the news about Hutch. I’m sorry, man. It takes a really sick dude to pull a stunt like that. How’s Hutch takin’ it?"

   "Bout as well as you can with a half dozen sticks of dynamite strapped to your chest. I’ve got to find Vince Garrison, Huggy. He may be the one who did this to him. Hutch shot and killed his brother yesterday after a foot pursuit. If he is responsible, he’s the only one who knows which wire will trigger the detonator on the bomb."

   "Vince Garrison? That psycho with a knack for torchin’ and blowin’ up things?" Huggy shook his head. "Man, no sweat. A house he burned a month or so ago belonged to a drug dealer who goes by the name of Charlie "The Cheat" Stover, a real bad cat who doesn’t believe in giving his buyers the most for their money. He lost quite a bit of inventory in that blaze. When Stover finally caught up with Garrison, he had that dude beggin’ for his miserable life. Garrison agreed to be his runner just to stay alive. That cat’s made a lot of enemies by delivering Stover’s bogus goods. Even a desperate junkie would have a hard time coppin’ a buzz from his stash."

   Starsky now understood how Garrison got involved in the drug related murder of Ricky Jenson.

   "Give me a couple of hours Starsky, and I’ll have him delivered to you on a silver platter."

   Starsky smiled at the encouraging words from his friend. "Huggy, did anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?"

   Huggy grinned at the compliment. "I’ve heard that a time or two."

   "I’m gonna go on back and check on Hutch. If you hear anything, call Metro and they’ll patch you through to me." Starsky started towards the door but then looked back. "Thanks, Huggy."

   "Anytime my man."

********

   Arriving back on the scene, the officers were obviously not expecting Starsky back so soon. They were standing around chatting and drinking colas. As Starsky pulled up, he looked out to his partner who was sitting by himself. Starsky was furious. The officers immediately realized they were in for it and quickly put their drinks down. Starsky approached them in a fit of rage.

   "What the hell is the matter with you? You think this is some kind of freak show? Why is no one out there with him?" Starsky’s blue eyes were ablaze with anger.

   None of the officers answered, not wanting to admit their fears. They looked down in embarrassment. Starsky knew the answer and belittled them. "And you call yourselves officers of the law."

   He grabbed a fresh cup of ice water and went back out to his partner. Hutch was sitting with his head leaning back against the utility pole. Sweat was streaming down his forehead into his eyes. His lips were dry and parched.

   "Oh, Hutch. I’m so sorry." Starsky knelt down next to his partner and immediately began wiping his face with the moistened cloth. "Wait ‘til I go back over there. They’re gonna regret this." He held the glass of water to Hutch’s mouth.

   After taking a big drink, Hutch shook his head. "No, Starsk. You can’t blame them. They all have a wife and kids to think about. I’m not exactly the life of the party right now."

   "That’s no excuse. Where’s Jerry and his team?"

   "He came over and told me a bomb threat had been called in to Harwood Middle School. He didn’t think it was legit, but they had to check it out. He said he’d be back within the hour if nothing turned up." Hutch slowly tried to shift the position of his back against the pole. The expression on his face revealed his pain.

   "Try not to move too much, Hutch," Starsky cautioned, remembering what Jerry had said.

   Hutch looked to his partner with tired eyes. "Why are you back so soon? Did you already find Garrison?"

   "No, but Huggy’s working on it." Starsky continued wiping his partner’s face with the cool cloth. "He said Garrison has made a lot of enemies running low quality drugs for a guy named Charlie Stover. Huggy was sure that someone would be more than happy to turn him over. He’s gonna let me know when he finds out anything."

   "Well, that’s promising. Huggy is always reliable. We’re lucky to have him." Hutch paused for a moment. "Starsk?"

   "Yeah, babe."

   "How much time?"

   Starsky looked at the ticking clock on his partner’s chest. "Thirteen hours, forty-eight minutes," he said softly. Starsky could see the fear in Hutch’s eyes. He moved from his knees to a sitting position and scooted up close to his friend. "Hey, partner. You mind sharing this water with me?"

   "Help yourself." Hutch was grateful for his company. Having been left alone for the last hour, the continued ticking of the bomb provided a constant reminder of his grave situation. He had become increasingly upset, but tried not to show it. Starsky always knew when he needed him.

   Starsky comforted his friend. "Hang in there, partner. Once we find Garrison, this will all be over in a matter of minutes. We’ll find out which wire to avoid and Jerry will get this thing off of you. You’ll be home in time for your veggie burger."

   "Tofu," Hutch stated.

   "Huh?" Starsky looked over at Hutch.

   "Tofu and mushroom stir-fry. That’s what I had planned on having." Hutch thought back to the night before.

   "Tofu and mushroom stir-fry it will be then." Starsky smiled at the thought of his partner indulging in one of his health food delicacies. "Ya think you might be able to scrounge me up a hot dog?"

   "It might be a turkey hot dog." Hutch was beginning to relax.

   "I’ll take it." Starsky thought of turkey in the shape of a hot dog and made a face out of Hutch’s view. "I just hope you have lots of mustard."

   Hutch chuckled and then flinched as a sharp pain reminded him of his cracked ribs.

   "Easy, Hutch." Starsky’s smile turned to concern once more.

********

   From a safe distance, one of the officers called over. "Detective Starsky, you’re wanted on the radio."

   "I bet this is it, Hutch." Starsky stood up and patted Hutch on the shoulder. "I bet Huggy already knows where I can find Garrison. I’ll be right back." Starsky dashed back to the black and white.

   Picking up the mic, he answered, "This is Starsky."

   The voice of his captain responded. "Yeah, Starsky. This is Dobey. I wanted to see how Hutch was doing."

   Starsky was disappointed. This was not the call he was waiting for. "He’s in a lot of pain, but he’s hangin’ in there, Cap. I’m waiting for a call from Huggy. He thinks he can get someone to give up Garrison."

   "Let me know if you get an address. I can have at least three units there in a matter of minutes. I’m doing all I can on this end. Just keep me posted."

   "Will do, Cap." Starsky hung up the mic and rested his hand on his forehead. He dreaded telling Hutch there was still no word. Then from outside the car, he heard a familiar voice.

   "No need to fear, Huggy Bear is here." The tall thin black man stood by the police car holding a sack.

   "Huggy, what are you doing here?" Starsky asked with surprise.

   "I have all the info you need right here." He held a piece of paper out to Starsky. "When word got out that the fuzz wanted Garrison, there were three different dudes singin’ like canaries to the snitches. They want that cat off the streets. Said he has some dues to pay for sellin’ them that cheap stuff." He held up the sack he was carrying. "I thought the blond blintz might be hungry, so I decided to give you the info in person. You’ll find Garrison at that address. You go ahead, I’ll look after blondie."

   "Thanks a million, Huggy." Starsky was relieved to know that Hutch would not be left alone again. He motioned to the officers still congregating in their small group. "Those so-called officers over there won’t go near him. They left him out there by himself for over an hour."

   "Well, he’ll be in Huggy’s hands now, so don’t you worry." Huggy smiled confidently.

   Anxious to leave, Starsky started towards his car. "Just keep him calm and comfortable. Will you tell him the news about Garrison?"

   "Sure thing. Good Luck." Huggy watched as Starsky sped off in a billow of dust.

   Huggy walked out towards Hutch, holding his head high as he walked past the cowardly officers. He had seen a lot of things, bad things, out on the streets and had always been able to deal with them, but what he saw as he approached the blond unsettled even him. The bomb was ticking softly, its colorful wires cradling the menacing device. The six sticks of dynamite were securely fastened around his chest, under his sweat soaked shirt. They moved ever so slightly with each of Hutch’s short breaths. Huggy tried to focus on the blond’s sky blue eyes, their color intensified by his sunburned skin.

   "Hey, Hutch," Huggy said quietly, unsure of the detective’s state of mind.

   Hutch became alarmed as Huggy knelt down beside him. "Huggy, you shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous. You can’t stay. Where did Starsky go?"

   Huggy stayed focused on his face, ignoring the ticking sound that threatened to divert his attention to the bomb. "Just take it easy. I got an address on Garrison. Starsky’s gone to nab the creep now. We’re gonna get you out of this. Besides, I brought you somethin’ to eat."

   "I can’t eat anything right now, Huggy." Hutch slowly shifted his weight once again, his face grimaced in pain.

   Huggy felt his telltale signs of nervousness break out as beads of sweat on his forehead, but remained undaunted. "Now, Hutch, I came all the way out here to bring you your favorite, turkey on wheat with alfalfa sprouts and Dijon mustard. You gotta eat this, ‘cause I keep this stuff stocked at my place just for you. Ain’t no one else gonna touch it. You don’t want my hard earned dough just to go to waste now do you?"

   Hutch smiled at Huggy’s clever reasoning. "Well, since you put it that way, I’ll try to eat a little."

   Huggy commended himself. It wasn’t every day that you outsmarted the blond blintz. He removed the sandwich from the sack and held it to Hutch’s mouth. The blond took a bite, slowly chewing and then swallowing it. It really did taste good to him. "Just like I like it, Hug."

   "Of course," Huggy replied smugly. "Hey, there’s been some foxy chick in asking for you. Said her name’s Sherry. I guess she knows you hang out at The Pits. She said if I saw you, to tell you that she really enjoyed last Saturday night and that if you come over this weekend, make sure you bring the extra-sweet whipped cream this time."

   If Hutch’s face hadn’t already been beet red from the sunburn, Huggy would have seen how embarrassed he really was. The blond smiled mischievously, his mind momentarily wandering to the shapely brunette with a passion for having her dessert in the bedroom. Hutch tried to play it off. "She likes ice cream sundaes."

   "Uh-huh, I bet she does." Huggy wasn’t fooled for a minute.

   After taking a few more bites of the sandwich, Hutch couldn’t eat anymore. His face grew serious and he looked into the dark eyes of his friend. "If something happens Hug, you’ll watch after him for me, won’t you?"

   "Now don’t you go talkin’ like that, Hutch. Nothin’s gonna happen. You know Starsky will see to that. He’s gonna nail the turkey who did this. Garrison is gonna regret the day he was born." Huggy gave Hutch another drink of water.

   "Huggy, how much time before…" Hutch began.

   Huggy interrupted his friend, knowing what he was going to ask. "How much time before what? Before you lean your head back and get some shuteye? I’d say right now. You look beat. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. So you just take it easy. Starsky will be back before you know it."

   Hutch was exhausted, mentally and physically. He took Huggy’s advice and closed his eyes. Huggy kept a close eye on his friend. He shuddered to think what would happen to Starsky if he lost Hutch.

********

   Starsky raced threw the streets of Bay City. He didn’t notify Dobey that he had an address on Garrison. This was something he had to take care of himself. He couldn’t risk involving other officers. If something went wrong and one of them was to shoot Garrison, everything could be lost.

   Approaching the run down hotel that was Garrison’s last known address, Starsky slowly pulled up to the curb. He entered the sleazy establishment.

   Flashing his badge to the toothless clerk behind the desk, the detective spoke sternly. "Vince Garrison! Where is he?"

   "Huh?" The dumbfounded man was caught off guard, engrossed in a soap opera on TV.

   Starsky repeated himself, this time grabbing the man by the front of the shirt. "You hear me now? Vince Garrison! What room is he in?"

   "Fourth, fourth floor," the man stuttered, "Room forty seven."

   Starsky released the man, letting him fall back onto his broken barstool. He started up the stairs, drawing his Beretta from its holster. He had no intention of shooting Garrison, at least not until he got the information he wanted. Reaching the fourth floor, he crept down the hallway as quietly as a mouse. As he approached room forty-seven, he took a deep breath. Hutch’s life was at stake. Garrison had to tell him what he needed to know. He gave two swift knocks on the door.

   "Garrison! Police, open up!" Starsky waited five seconds and kicked the door in. Vince Garrison was trying to climb out the window onto the fire escape. Starsky quickly grabbed him. Pulling him roughly back inside, he then threw Garrison against the wall and held his Beretta to the trembling man’s temple. "Okay, scumbag. You tell me what I need to know or your gonna see how fast I can empty this gun clip into your pea-sized brain."

   Garrison was petrified, "Okay, Okay! I did it. Ricky Jenson tried to say that I was selling bad drugs, but I didn’t know it. I swear! Charlie Stover put me up to it. Jenson pulled a gun. I had to shoot him or he was going to kill me." Garrison was rambling on and on.

   Starsky stopped him and put the gun into his mouth. "That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. My partner, dammit! The bomb that you strapped to his chest because he killed your brother, you tell me how to diffuse it."

   With the gun touching the roof of his mouth, Garrison couldn’t speak.

   Starsky pulled the gun from his mouth and put it back to his temple. "Talk to me!" he shouted.

   "Bomb? I swear. I don’t know anything about no bomb strapped to your partner. Sure, I’ve messed with a pipe bomb or two, but I ain’t tryin’ to take out no cop. I’ve been hidin’ ever since you chased me yesterday. I didn’t even know for sure that Tommy was dead." Garrison was in tears as Starsky pressed the gun further into his temple. He squirmed. "I swear. You have to believe me. Please don’t shoot me."

   As tears streamed down Garrison’s face, Starsky realized he was telling the truth. He removed the gun from his temple. Turning Garrison to face the wall, Starsky searched him and then handcuffed him to the radiator in the room. He would send someone to pick him up.

   Once outside the apartment, Starsky leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor. He held his head in his hands; tears welled in his eyes. He had no other leads. Time was running out and now he had to go back and tell Hutch that Garrison wasn’t the one they were looking for. He felt so helpless. Starsky quickly stood up. He had to get to back to Hutch. He wanted to be with him.

********

   By the time Starsky returned to his partner, the sun was beginning to set. Huggy saw the Torino pull up and, seeing that Hutch had finally nodded off, quietly walked over to Starsky. He could tell by the look on the dark-haired detective’s face the news was not good. Back on the scene, Jerry Samuels also approached.

   Starsky could barely speak above a whisper. "It wasn’t him. Oh, god, it wasn’t him." He looked to Huggy for an answer. "What am I going to tell Hutch?"

   Jerry spoke up. "We still have a little over ten hours. I’m still working on bypassing the detonator. We can’t give up yet."

   Starsky nodded in agreement. Looking to Huggy, he asked, "How’s he doin’?"

   "I got him to eat a little. Even got a smile or two out of him. He finally dozed off a few minutes ago, which is good. I don’t think he’s lettin’ on to how much pain he’s really in."

   "Thanks, for staying with him, Huggy," Starsky said gratefully. "I’m gonna stay with him for a while. You can go on back, now. I’ll take it from here."

   "Hey, no problem." Huggy patted Starsky on the arm. "And if you need me, just say the word and I’ll be here in a flash. See ya, Jerry." Huggy left, hoping for a miracle.

   Jerry went back to his research work. Starsky called in to Dobey and gave him the disappointing news. The captain reassured Starsky that he still had all available units questioning every snitch within the city limits. They even spoke with previous bombers still in jail for their offenses, hoping someone could give them a possible lead. Nothing had turned up yet, but they still had time.

   Starsky hung up the radio mic and slowly made the walk out to his sleeping partner. He didn’t know how to tell him the bad news. Approaching Hutch, he stared at the clock on his chest. The ticking was ominous. Minute by minute, second by second, it was taking his friend’s life. How he wanted to rip it from his chest, bust it into a million pieces for threatening to take the one thing that mattered more than anything else to him. He sat down next to his partner, crossing his legs Indian style. Twisting the grass between his fingers, Starsky thought of all they had been through together, the good times, the bad. How something as simple as a clock was going to determine when it was over. He took a deep breath and looked up to the stars. Starsky focused on the brightest one, saying a prayer for his friend, until a cloud slowly dimmed its twinkling. Hutch began to stir. Starsky turned so that he was facing his partner.

   Hutch slowly opened his eyes and then jerked his head up quickly as if he momentarily had forgotten the nightmare he was living.

   "Take it easy, Hutch," Starsky said soothingly. "I’m right here."

   Hutch was wide-awake now. "Did you find him? Did you get Garrison?"

   Starsky looked at the ground. "Yeah, I found him, Hutch."

   "Did he tell you how to disarm this thing?" Hutch was growing more anxious.

   Starsky looked his friend in the eye. "It wasn’t him. He didn’t do it."

   Hutch was crushed. "What do you mean it wasn’t him? He built that pipe bomb, didn’t he? I killed his brother. It has to be him." He didn’t want to face the truth.

   "No, Hutch. He didn’t even know for sure his brother was dead. When I confronted him, he started confessing about the murder of Ricky Jenson. When I mentioned the bomb strapped to you, he had no idea what I was talking about. I’m sorry, babe." Starsky wanted to cry as he saw the devastated look on Hutch’s face.

   Hutch looked down and shook his head and then turned back to his partner. "How much time, Starsk?"

   Starsky saw a chill ripple through Hutch’s body. "We still have almost ten hours." He turned and scooted up close to his friend. "Dobey’s havin’ every snitch in Bay City pumped for info. He’ll turn up something." Starsky felt his partner tremble again. He glanced at Hutch. "You cold?"

   "Yeah, just a little," Hutch replied softly, still trying to cope with the fact that Garrison wasn’t the one they were looking for.

   Starsky knew this was not a good sign. Even in the night air, it was still 89 degrees. He knew with Hutch’s bad sunburn and the added stress on his nerves, chills were a real possibility. Hutch abruptly shook again. The wires on the bomb shifted with his sharp movement.

   "I’m gonna go get you a blanket." Starsky ran back over to the ambulance and retrieved a wool blanket. By the time he got back, Hutch was shaking almost continuously. Starsky watched as the bomb shook with every chill that traveled across his partner’s body.

   "Hutch, you gotta try and stay still." Starsky wrapped the blanket around the utility pole and Hutch’s arms and across his legs. He was careful not to lay any part of the blanket on the bomb.

   "I’m, I’m sorry, St-Starsky," he stuttered. "All of a s-sudden, I’m so, so c-cold." His constant shivering intensified the pain in his ribs, causing him to jerk even more.

   Starsky removed his shirt and got under the blanket with him.

   "What are you do-doing, St-Starsk?" Hutch asked.

   "Body heat. I’m gonna warm you up, partner." Starsky got as close as he could without disturbing the bomb. "Now you just close your eyes and try to relax. You’ll be warmed up in a jiff." He didn’t say anymore, hoping that Hutch would calm down. Starsky continued to watch the bomb shake as the chills continued.

   Hutch had closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth he felt from his partner’s body. Finally, the chills began to cease and he gradually relaxed. Feeling the security of Starsky’s closeness, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

   Starsky was relieved to feel the shivering stop. Seeing that his partner was finally asleep again, Starsky remained close, not wanting to chance waking him up. He knew that if something turned up, the other officers would let him know. Emotionally exhausted, he too fell asleep.

   They remained like that for several hours, each comforted by the other’s presence. Then Hutch’s head lolled from side to side as he began to dream….

********

   Happy times at The Pits. Friends gathering with friends.

   He just smiles at the watch and then at Hutch.

   Hutch screamed as he awoke from his dream. "NO! Oh god, no!" He was now wringing wet with sweat and breathing rapidly. He jerked against the handcuffs binding his wrists.

   Starsky was abruptly awakened. He grabbed Hutch’s shoulders to hold him still. "Hutch! Hutch! It’s okay. You were having a dream, that’s all. Calm down."

   Hutch was hysterical. "No, Starsky, you have to leave! You can’t stay here! I won’t let you! You’re not going to die with me! Please go!"

   "Hutch no one is going to die. We’re going to get you out of this." Starsky tried to ease his fears.

   Hutch became angry, hoping this would entice his partner to leave. He would not allow Starsky to die with him. "Oh, c’mon Starsky! We don’t know who did this. We don’t have any leads. I don’t want you here anymore! I want you to leave me alone!"

   Starsky knew what he was doing. "Hutch, I’m not going to leave you. Me and thee partner, remember?"

   Hutch was emotionally drained at this point. Wracked with pain from shouting and taking the deep breaths, he leaned his head against the pole in resignation. "Please, Starsky, just go away," he said softly.

   "I can’t do that, partner. You’re stuck with me." Starsky put his shirt back on and sat down. He removed the blanket from his now sweating friend. In a soothing voice he said, "I’m staying right here with you."

   Hutch accepted the fact that Starsky wasn’t going to leave and asked the inevitable question, "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Five hours, fourteen minutes."

********

   Starsky stayed with Hutch as much as possible. He left only to check in with Dobey and Jerry Samuels from time to time. They assured him they were still pursuing every possible avenue to obtain a lead. Starsky wanted to be out on the streets, but was told there was nothing he could do that was not already being done. It was more important for him to stay with his partner. As the time ticked away, Hutch became increasingly despondent. Starsky was the only one who could keep him calm.

   "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Two hours, nine minutes."

********

   The sun was beginning to rise, bringing with it another day of relentless heat. New units relieved the black and whites that had been on stand-by. John Anderson and his partner Eric Monroe were one of the replacements. As the time grew closer, more emergency personnel arrived.

   Starsky remained at Hutch’s side, talking to him, trying not to listen to the ticking sound of the clock, a constant reminder of each second passing.

   Hutch was breathing hard. The sweat rolled down the side of his face. Starsky continued to wipe his face with the cool cloth.

   "How much time, Starsk?"

   "You just asked me that, Hutch." Starsky was trying not to look at the clock.

   "How much time, Starsk?" he repeated.

   "One hour, twelve minutes."

   Hutch pleaded with his friend, "Starsky, please, you have to le…"

   Starsky interrupted him, "I’m not leaving you Hutch. I’m not."

   Hutch was quiet for a minute.

   "You’ve always been there for me, Starsk, always. I have so much I want to say to you before…"

   "Hey, you’re not checkin’ out on me yet, partner." Starsky tried to lighten the conversation, afraid if Hutch said too much more he would break down. "You still owe me that turkey hot dog. How do they make turkey shaped liked that anyway?"

   Hutch smiled softly at his partner’s optimism.

   They continued to talk about unimportant things, anything to keep their mind off of the time. Hutch explained why you should talk to houseplants, and how you have to put just the right amount of wheat germ in a protein shake for that extra energy boost. Starsky tutored Hutch on the basics of a perfect wax job. A hand wax is much better than using a buffer in order to prevent swirl marks. And pepperoni is better on top of the cheese, not underneath it. That way you can pick the pepperoni slices off your unsuspecting partner’s piece when he’s not looking.

   Momentarily enjoying their conversation, it was almost as if nothing was wrong. Then the ticking sound brought them back to reality once again.

   "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Thirty-eight minutes, twelve seconds."

   Hutch took a deep breath, wincing as pain shot through his ribs once more. He was beginning to tremble again, not from chills but from fear.

   Starsky gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I’m gonna go see if Jerry’s came up with anything. I’ll bring us something cool to drink." He hurried back to the cluster of ambulances, fire trucks and cop cars.

   Dobey had arrived on the scene. Starsky looked at him with hopeful eyes.

   "I’m sorry, Starsky. No word yet." The big man rubbed his hands together nervously.

   Starsky walked by him, not speaking, and approached the bomb squad truck where Jerry was still at work.

   "Anything, Jerry?"

   "I’m sorry, Starsky. There is just no way to disarm this bomb without knowing which wire will trigger the detonator." Jerry looked down, knowing this was not what he wanted to hear.

   Starsky walked away.

   John Anderson then approached the dark-haired detective. "I know there hasn’t been any leads yet on who did this to Hutchinson, and I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, Starsky."

   Starsky slammed his fist on the black and white he was standing next to. He started screaming in anger at the crowd of officers and emergency personnel. "My best friend is out there with a bomb strapped to his chest that’s set to go off in thirty one minutes and all you can say is I’m sorry, Starsky? Well, sorry, isn’t good enough! Someone has to know something." He looked at the sympathetic faces of the people around him, grasping for any ray of hope. He pleaded as his eyes welled with tears, "Please, doesn’t somebody know something?"

   Captain Dobey came up and put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder. "It’s okay, Dave."

   Starsky knocked his hand away. "It’s not okay. Can’t you see that? He’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it." Realizing that Hutch was still by himself, he tried to calm down. Letting out a deep breath, he said to his captain, "I’m sorry, Cap. Look, I’ve got to get back out there with him. Just keep tryin’. Could you have someone bring us a drink?"

   "Sure thing, Dave. I’ll send someone over." Dobey watched as Starsky returned to his partner.

********

   "Anything?" Hutch asked, trying not to tremble.

   Starsky smiled, not wanting to show his disappointment. "Not yet, partner. They’re still workin’ on it."

   Hutch knew that what he meant was the situation was hopeless. He saw the disheartened look on his friend’s face and changed the subject. "I thought you were bringing us a drink?"

   "Dobey’s going to have someone bring it over."

   "I hope it’s at least eighty pr-proof," Hutch replied, flinching with pain again.

   "You hurtin’ worse?" Starsky asked with concern.

   "I think it’s mainly my nerves," Hutch was only telling part of the truth. He took a short breath of air. "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Twenty-one minutes, thirty-nine seconds."

   They saw John Anderson start their way carrying two drinks.

   Still out of earshot, Hutch commented. "I can’t believe he’s bringing the-the drinks."

   "Me either," Starsky replied. "He did tell me how sorry he was about the situation. I was rather surprised myself."

   The two detectives quit talking as Anderson approached. As he handed the drinks to Starsky, Anderson looked down at Hutch, seemingly unsettled by his condition. Hutch was now taking short gasps of air. The pain in his ribs had escalated, not allowing him to breathe deeper. He shifted uncomfortably trying to relieve the pain. The bomb shook ever so slightly as Hutch continued to tremble. Anderson didn’t look him in the eye. "I know we’ve had our differences, Hutchinson, but I want you to know how sorry I am about this situation. I can’t imagine who would do this. We’re still working on getting a lead."

   "Thanks, Anderson." Hutch flinched as pain shot through his ribs once again.

   Anderson nodded to Starsky as he turned and walked away. They could not see the smile on his face. They only heard him begin to whistle.

   Starsky shook his head at the boldness of Anderson’s whistling. "I can’t believe he’s whistling at a time like this. What’s that song anyway? New York, New York?"

   Forgetting his pain, Hutch suddenly leaned up, listening intently to the melody.

   Starsky didn’t know what he was doing. "C’mon, babe. You can’t move like that. You have to sit…"

   Hutch interrupted him. "No, wait Starsky! That’s the song!"

   "What?" Starsky didn’t understand.

   "The song, New York, New York. When I was blindfolded after I was kidnapped, the guy was whistling New York, New York. Oh god, it’s Anderson! He did this!"

   "How would he know how to build a bomb? Are you sure that was the song?"

   "Hell yes, I’m sure. He whistled it for over an hour, just like that." Hutch looked at Starsky anxiously. "How much time, Starsk?"

   "Thirteen minutes, forty-eight seconds. Hang in there partner, I’ll be right back." Starsky ran towards the crowd.

   Hutch leaned his head against the pole and closed his eyes, hoping there was enough time left. All he could do was wait as the seconds ticked by.

   Anderson had already returned to a cluster of officers. They were discussing how hard it was going to be to watch one, maybe two, of their own die.

   As Starsky dashed into the crowd, Dobey grabbed his arm. "What is it Starsky?"

   Starsky had to be sure. "Cap, when you said Anderson’s father had retired from law enforcement, what branch was he in?"

   "He was captain of the bomb squad. Jerry Samuels took his place. Why?" Dobey asked in surprise.

   "No time to explain, Cap. Just have Jerry get out there with Hutch and be ready to disarm the bomb." Starsky ran past him and started towards Anderson.

   Engrossed in conversation, Anderson looked up and was surprised to see Starsky coming towards him in a fit of rage. He knew he had been found out. He drew his gun and backed away from the other officers. "You stay back!" he shouted.

   Starsky immediately held his hands up and called to the other men. "Don’t shoot him! He knows how to disarm the bomb!"

   "Don’t come near me!" Anderson warned.

   "C’mon, John. You don’t want to do this." Starsky continued to hold his hands up, not wanting to threaten him.

   "Yes, I do!" he shouted. "Hutchinson caused me to lose everything. I won’t get my promotion because of him, and I may even lose my job! I want to take everything from him, just like he did me! He’s not so tough now!" His hands began to shake and his voice quivered, as he thought of his father. "It’s all my dad ever wanted for me, to be a detective. I just wanted him to be proud." Tears began to well in his eyes.

   "He wouldn’t want you to do this, would he John? Take another officer’s life?" Starsky knew he was running out of time. "You can still make him proud by stopping this. Only you know how to stop it. Please John, don’t let my partner die. Which wire is it? Please, I’m begging you."

   Anderson started to weep as he brought his gun down. He fell to his knees.

   Starsky ran up to him and grabbed him gently by the shoulders. "Which wire, John?"

   With tears streaming down his face, he whispered, "The blue one. Don’t cut the blue one."

   "Thank you, John." Starsky ran from the sobbing man, as the other officers moved in to arrest him.

   Jerry was kneeling next to Hutch with his tools ready as Starsky bolted up.

   "It’s the blue one, Jerry. Don’t cut the blue one." Starsky was out of breath. Kneeling beside his friend, he draped his hand around the nape of Hutch’s neck. "It’s almost over, babe, hang in there just another minute."

   Hutch was having trouble catching his breath. He saw Jerry begin to sort and cut the wires.

   "How much, how much time, St-Starsk?"

   "Four minutes, twenty-two seconds."

   Jerry carefully lifted the red wire away from the blue one, not wanting to chance cutting it. He cut the red wire. "Okay, there goes the red one." He then gently moved the yellow one away. Sweat began to drip from his face onto the wires. "Shit, give me a rag!" Starsky quickly handed him a rag to wipe his face. He then cut the yellow wire. "There’s goes the yellow one."

   Starsky continued to massage the back of Hutch’s neck, trying to keep him calm. "I’m right here, Hutch."

   Hutch’s eyes were wide with fear as he watched Jerry meticulously move and clip the wires. "Time…Starsk?" was all he could get out.

   "Two minutes, thirteen seconds."

   "One more, Hutch." Jerry moved the green wire away from the blue. There was one final clipping sound and then silence. The clock stopped.

   Putting his hands on Hutch’s cheeks, Starsky leaned his head towards the blond’s until their foreheads were touching. "It’s all over, partner. It’s all over."

   Hutch closed his eyes, the pain and emotional torment almost more than he could take.

   Starsky then looked to Jerry who was more than a little shaken by the close call. "I don’t know how to thank you, Jerry. You saved his life."

   "No thank you needed." Jerry continued to diligently work at removing the disarmed bomb from Hutch’s chest.

   Hutch waited patiently while Jerry cut the straps holding the bomb in place. He then removed the wires from his handcuffs.

   "Okay, Hutch. It’s gonna hurt a little once I take the weight off your chest."

   Relieved at the thought of finally having the bomb removed, Hutch replied, "I think I can h-handle it." He gritted his teeth as Jerry took the heavy device off.

   Jerry then called his men in to safely remove the bomb from the area.

   "Thank y-you, Jerry." Hutch’s face grimaced in pain.

   Jerry was gathering his tools. "You’re very welcome, Hutch. I’ll send the paramedics over to take care of you. I’ll see you both later." He left the two friends to be by themselves.

   "Okay, babe. Let’s get these damn handcuffs off of you." Starsky reached behind Hutch and unlocked the cuffs. He took him in his arms and gently laid him on the ground. From a distance, he saw the paramedics approaching.

   In a more comfortable position, Hutch could breathe easier. He looked to his friend and, with tears coming to his eyes said, "St-Starsk, you were going to die with me, weren’t y-you?"

   Starsky took hold of Hutch’s hand and, giving it a gentle squeeze, replied, "Like I said partner, me and thee."

********

   After taking a week off to recover from his ordeal, Hutch was allowed to return to light duty, sorting and filing paperwork. The temperature had finally cooled off considerably, and Hutch was looking forward to driving his car to work on his first day back.

   He pulled up at Starsky’s apartment and honked the horn. His partner did not come out. Hutch got out of the car and went to his door. After knocking twice, there was still no answer. The blond detective took out the set of keys he had to Starsky’s apartment and let himself in.

   "Starsk?" he called.

   No answer.

   He walked into his partner’s bedroom. Starsky was curled in a ball in the middle of his bed, a pillow held snugly against his chest, still sound asleep.

   "Starsky!"

   "Huh?" Starsky said groggily, peeking through one opened eye. He looked at the clock. "Oh, shit! Is it that late already?" He jumped from the bed and looked to his partner. His face now a golden brown, Hutch was standing there with his hands on his hips not saying a word, no expression on his face. "I’m sorry, Hutch. I didn’t mean to oversleep. I know how you hate to be late. Just give me fifteen minutes in the shower and I’ll be right out." Starsky didn’t wait for a reply. He was afraid to hear what the quick-tempered blond would say. As the hot water from the shower beat down on his back, Starsky thought to himself, Real smooth, Starsky. Your partner’s first day back after the hell he’s been through and you’re late. He was really mad. Did you see how he stood there saying nothing? You know he’s going to let you have it.

   After a quick shower and shave, Starsky emerged from the bathroom still half-dressed.

   Looking down as he buttoned his shirt he said, "I’m sorry, Hutch. We can go now. I’ll finish dressing in the…." He stopped as the distinct smell of bacon drifted through the air. His partner was setting the table. A dozen eggs sat on the counter next to two glasses of orange juice. "Hutch, what are you doing? We’re going to be late. Look at the time."

   Hutch picked up the two glasses of juice and walked over to his friend. Handing him one glass, he replied with a smile, "Time, partner? I’ve got all the time in the world."

THE END