"So what'd you think of Ellison?" Starsky called in to his partner, who was still completing his evening ablutions in the bathroom. The dark-haired man was occupying his time reading in bed, going over the case history on Slater from the mental hospital where he'd been residing for the last three years. "He's good. I honestly couldn't find anything in that house he hadn't already spotted or investigated. He seems to know his stuff." "Blair's a good kid. I'm glad he made it out of Slater's hands in one piece." "I think you were giving Ellison a few tense moments hanging around his boyfriend so much today." "I'm sure he'll be up nights worrying about it," Starsky retorted, setting the report aside and massaging the ache between his eyes. He tossed his glasses on top of the folder and slid down in the bed. "You gonna be all night in there, Blondie?" Starsky had no sooner finished the statement when his partner came out of the bathroom in his white terry cloth robe, smelling like soap and a little trace of the aftershave he knew Starsky liked best. Even after all those years of being together, Hutch could still get Starsky's heart beating double time just by walking into a room with the right look in his cool blue eyes. "Sleepy?" he asked, climbing up on the bed and stretching out on his side to face Starsky, propping himself up on one elbow. One long finger traced the line down the center of Starsky's chest until it ran into the waistband of his briefs. It hooked in the waistband and ran a teasing tip along the soft skin beneath. "Early call tomorrow, babe." Starsky reached over and ran his fingers into the fine gold hair. That was always his mistake, and this night was no different. "Okay, Starsk, if you're not in the mood," Hutch said coolly, reaching over to turn out the light. As soon as the room was in shadows, Starsky pounced. Lying on top of his partner, supporting his weight on his elbows while he slid both hands into Hutch's hair, he dove down to capture that full, perfectly shaped mouth. When he drew back, he rested his forehead against Hutch's. "I don't think I told you today that I loved you." "There's a black mark in my day planner, you thoughtless bastard," Hutch quipped, winding his arms around Starsky's firm middle. The blond laughed then, and Starsky grinned, still occasionally caught off guard by his partner's straight-faced jokes. "Guess I have a lotta work t'do makin' it up to you, huh, blintz?" Swooping down to Hutch's smooth throat, he began work on a large passion mark. "Do you mind not doing your Nadasy routine, babe? I don't want to walk all over the Cascade PD with a giant hickey on my neck." "It's a *passion mark*. You get hickeys in the back seat with your girlfriend when you're sixteen." Starsky licked at the pinkish mark that he'd abandoned before it became a flaming beacon on Hutch's fair skin. He started kissing his way down the smooth chest, then paused. "You're not going to be leaving these hanging out tomorrow are you?" he teased, pulling Hutch's robe aside to expose a nipple. "Smart ass." Hutch smiled and ran his fingers through Starsky's curls, twining them in the springy hair and holding his lover's dark head right where he wanted it as the other man tortured the little protrusion with lips and tongue. "Wanted you all day," Starsky admitted, a little breathless as he moved to the other nipple, pushing the pesky bathrobe out of the way. "You're overdressed, babe," Hutch objected, reaching up to push the robe off Starsky's shoulders. The other man dispensed with the garment and his briefs, straddling Hutch again in all his naked glory. Starsky was his other half in every sense. They were even perfect physical opposites, Hutch being blond, his chest smooth and hairless. Starsky was all dark curls--both on his head, dusted across his chest and belly, and gathering densely at the base of an impressive cock that was already at half mast. It's counterpart, nested among golden curls, nudged at Starsky's thigh. "Want to be inside you," Hutch whispered, running his hands up downy thighs. "Oh yeah." Starsky found his discarded robe on the empty side of the bed and retrieved the lube from the pocket. "Do yourself," Hutch instructed. Starsky smiled wickedly. He knew the only thing that got to Hutch faster than feeling all that tight pressure around his cock was watching Starsky get himself ready. Demon that he was, Starsky always took his time preparing himself as if he were tight as a virgin. By the time he spread a film of the gel over Hutch's length, the other man was breathing heavily, little drops leaking from his straining shaft. And then Hutch was engulfed in that hot tunnel in one smooth slide. Starsky's rounded cheeks were pressed to his lover's groin, and he was almost immediately in motion atop Hutch, rocking his hips in rhythm with the other man's thrusts. "Oh, God..." Hutch groaned, grabbing Starsky's offered hands and lacing their fingers together as his lover rode him hard, driving his cock in deep. Starsky's head was thrown back, his face a mask of straining passion, little grunts coming out in time with their sex. "Ugh, come on, babe, give it to me," Starsky ground out, moving faster still. Hutch answered him with wild thrusts that raised the blond's hips off the mattress and sent vibrations through his lover's entire body. "Yeah... Ooooh, yeah, I'm comin', babe," Starsky panted, writhing impossibly faster as Hutch yanked one of his hands free to start pumping Starsky's weeping shaft. "Hard...come on!" he goaded Hutch again, letting out his final howl of pleasure as Hutch obliged the request, nailing Starsky's prostate with a series of rapid-fire strokes. As Starsky was coming down from his climax, he rode out the sharp strokes from below, until Hutch stiffened and filled his lover, calling out Starsky's name. The impaled man fell forward on his partner's chest, their hearts thundering together as they soothed each other through the after shocks. "Love you," Hutch managed, rubbing Starsky's back and finding enough energy for a fiery kiss. "Love you, too, Blondie," Starsky responded, smiling with pure adoration down at his life partner. "You're so beautiful," he said, pushing a few sweaty strands of hair off Hutch's forehead. "Not as beautiful as you, babe." "Close though," Starsky replied, grinning a little as he lay atop Hutch, feeling the other man's arms close tightly around him. "Call it a tie?" Hutch said sleepily as Starsky shifted to let Hutch's spent cock slip free of his well-loved passage. "Works for me." Both men fumbled around with the corner of one of the robes to clean themselves off haphazardly before pulling up the covers and snuggling together for a decent night's sleep. The next day would probably be a long one. //So why can't I shut down my brain and sleep?// Starsky asked himself. He hadn't given "Sunflower" much thought in the last twenty years. Losing her as quickly and effortlessly as he'd found her had hurt at the time. For those two days--and one glorious night--they were together, he'd foolishly thought it was something meaningful. Maybe his mother had been right when she'd warned him to stay away from those drugged up hippie girls. He found himself almost snorting a laugh, but refrained. Hutch was as light a sleeper as Starsky was a heavy one. //I never even asked Blair for her right name. But what difference does it really make now? Our lives aren't connected in any way. She's off doing her thing, and I'm in a lifetime partnership. One I wouldn't trade for all the women on earth.// Starsky sighed, and Hutch started stirring. By unconscious mutual agreement and years of coordination, Hutch rolled over on his side and Starsky spooned up behind him, draping an arm over Hutch's body, keeping them close. His languid cock was nestled between Hutch's cheeks, and Starsky grinned evilly as he thought of just the right way to wake his partner in the morning. ******** Blair looked at the clock for what felt like the millionth time. It had only moved ahead thirty minutes. The large body that was spooned around him shifted a little. Jim was sleeping, but even in that state, he sensed Blair's restlessness. Blair knew he'd hate himself in the morning, when the alarm went off and he'd had all of two hours' sleep. Still, every time he closed his eyes, he imagined how easily Slater could slip in downstairs, make his way stealthily up to the loft bedroom, and carry out his threats. Jim was a sentinel but he was tired, and sleeping soundly. To assume the man could hear everything at all times was nothing short of ridiculous. They could both end up dead in their bed. "What's wrong, baby?" Jim tightened his hold on the smaller body. "Can't sleep." "You feel okay?" "Yeah." "Back hurting?" "A little, but it's not that." "How about a back rub with some of that lotion and you tell me what it is, huh?" "You need your sleep, love. I'm okay." "I'm not going to roll over and go back to sleep while you're staring at the clock." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder and got up, moving stealthily down the steps to get the lotion. "Jim?" "What, Chief?" he called up from the foot of the stairs. "Um, everything look okay down there?" "Yeah..." Jim sounded completely puzzled for a moment, then realization seemed to dawn. "I'll double check and make sure we've got everything locked. Be right up." Blair slumped back down on the bed and curled up around a pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his mind would close down for a little while. Talking about Slater's depravity so extensively just drove the point home to him how much danger he'd been in, and how close he'd come to dying an unspeakable death. As it was, dying of starvation an dehydration was a gruesome way out too. "Stretch out on your belly, Chief," Jim instructed, reaching down to gently pat the flat stomach as he moved past Blair. "You should get some sleep. I'm serious, man. I'll go downstairs." "You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. Just relax. Probably be a good idea to take the t-shirt off too." Blair obliged and shifted onto his stomach. "The bruises and the marks have faded quite a bit," Jim commented, warming the lotion in his hands before working it into Blair's skin. "I keep forgetting you don't need the lights to see that." There was a trace of a smile in Blair's voice. "Got a case of the night jitters, Chief?" Jim asked gently. He didn't wait for an answer. "It's pretty understandable after we spent so much time today analyzing Slater's crimes." "I know I shouldn't be, but I'm still scared. I keep thinking he's going to come after me." "That would be a fatal mistake on his part," Jim responded calmly, leaning forward to kiss Blair's cheek. Then he whispered in the nearby ear, "Anybody looking for you has to go through me first." "I know. I just... I guess it's knowing he was right there, waving that knife around...that he really wanted to do the things he said he'd do." "We'll get him, sweetheart. It's just going to take a little time." "That feels *so* good," Blair muttered through a yawn. "Good. Close your eyes, baby. Go on. I'm right here." "Jim? If you were sleeping, and somebody tried to--" "If Slater or anyone else tries to break in here or comes within a ten mile radius of you with any malicious intent, I'll know it. It's safe to go to sleep." "I was afraid to close my eyes when he was around. I was scared he'd do something to me while I was asleep...or that I'd make noise and he'd..." Blair shivered, and Jim could see how hard the younger man was working at keeping his composure. "It's okay to be afraid, sweetheart. He's a psycho, Blair. It's not strange you'd be shaken up after being around him so long." "I was so damn scared, man," Blair forced out past the constriction in his throat. He felt Jim carefully finish up with the lotion, and turned to sit up and pull his t-shirt back on again. When it was in place, Jim set the lotion aside and pulled Blair into his arms, settling them both back under the covers. "I didn't want to die like that," he said softly. "I know, baby. I know." Jim caressed the curls pressed against his shoulder and kissed the top of Blair's head. "I was afraid to sleep. I can't make myself relax and close my eyes because I keep expecting to open them and he'll just...be there. He did that to me. I'd doze off and when I'd wake up, sometimes he'd just be...sitting there, watching me, smiling. The ski mask made it distorted, but it was still scary. He had the worst eyes, Jim. Cold, dead eyes." Blair moved impossibly closer, trying to crawl inside Jim's skin where he'd feel protected. The large arms tightened around him. "Trust me, Blair. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. I might go to sleep, but I'll still hear anything out of place. You want a light on?" "That's dumb." "Not if it makes you feel better. The dark's still a little scary, isn't it?" "Yeah," Blair admitted quietly. "Okay. I'll turn on the lamp on the dresser." Jim got up again, turned on the small lamp, then pulled one of his t-shirts out of the drawer and draped it over the shade, leaving the room with just enough dim light to dispel the shadows. "Better?" "I'm sorry, Jim." "Don't apologize, Chief. Just tell me if this is going to help," Jim said gently. "A lot." "Okay." Jim smiled as he headed back to bed and gathered Blair back into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry...earlier...nothing happened." Blair felt his face flush at the thought of their aborted attempt at making love. It wasn't the right night for Blair, who wanted nothing more than to be held and comforted, and it hadn't been much better for Jim, who was about as preoccupied with the current case as he had ever been with any in his career before. A psychotic killer was loose somewhere, probably still in the area. It wouldn't be long before someone paid the price for the Cascade PD's inability to find him. "It'll happen when it's time, baby. We were pushing it a little." "Sometimes...I love you so much it hurts," Blair whispered, feeling his eyes finally drift shut in the warmth and safety of Jim's embrace. "I know the feeling, Chief. I love you too. Now go to sleep. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm keeping watch." "You need sleep too." "I'll sleep. Don't worry about it. You know what'll put me to sleep? Hearing that steady even heartbeat of yours when *you're* asleep." "You really know how to push the right buttons, doncha?" Blair slurred as he felt himself drifting and finally letting go. "I try, baby," Jim replied quietly, letting his own eyes close as Blair shifted a little, snuggled tightly against him, and fell into a sound sleep. ******** The jangling of the phone was a shrill and unwelcome intrusion on a short night of sleep. Jim found it impossible to disengage the hairy octopus that had fastened onto his body, and his lover was sleeping so deeply now that even the phone wasn't disturbing him. Jim finally, somehow, slid both of them over toward the night stand until Blair rallied and let go in time for Jim to catch the phone. "Ellison." "Jim, it's Simon." A long pause. "There's been a murder." The way Simon said it froze the blood in Jim's veins. He hadn't simply said "we've got a body" like he usually did. This was *the* murder. The one they'd all lived in fear of since identifying one of Blair's captors as Slater. "Where?" Jim was leaning up on one elbow now, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and noting with an inward flinch that it was only five in the morning. They'd gotten all of two and a half hours of real rest. "You're not going to believe this." "What?" "The body was found in Sandburg's office at the U. Sitting at his desk. A janitor saw the light on in the office and went in to check. I'm at the campus right now, so I need you to get down here. I think you should leave Sandburg home." "I think so too, but I know he'll never go for it." "I've called Starsky and Hutchinson. They're on their way." "We'll be there ASAP, sir." Jim hung up the phone and looked over at Blair, wondering how in hell he was going to explain this one to him. ******** Starsky shook his head as he surveyed the scene in front of him. The corpse was sitting up in the desk chair, head lolling off to one side, vacant eyes staring. The hands hand been placed, palms down, on the surface of the desk, on top of a neat pile of graded term papers. The young man was probably about Blair's age, give or take a few years, with a shaggy mane of brown hair. He didn't really look like Blair upon close inspection, but the imagery was very effective nonetheless. Pinned to the corpse's denim jacket was a note that read "Just Practicing". "Well, I guess if we had any doubts he was after Sandburg, we can dismiss them now," Hutch said, running his hand over his face, letting it come to rest on his chin. "Judging from the amount of blood on and under the chair, I'd say we're probably dealing with considerable mutilation again. Whaddya wanna bet this matches the 'Carnage in Hillside Park' M.O.?" "Killed somewhere else and brought here. Which means we have a good chance of finding some kind of blood trail." Simon met Jim and Blair at the top of the stairs at the far end of the hall from Blair's office. "I want you to wait here, Sandburg," he greeted Blair. "It's *my* office, Simon." "Blair, this isn't about trying to shut you out of things. I mean I really don't want you to go in there. It's not an image you want imprinted on your mind. Just trust me this time, huh?" There was something very gentle, almost paternal in Simon's tone. "Okay," Blair agreed hesitantly. "I'll wait right over there in the student lounge. "Thanks, Chief," Jim said, infinitely relieved Blair wasn't fighting them on this. If Simon noticed the little caress to Blair's hair that was just a bit too tender for a gesture among buddies, he didn't comment on it. He was already leading the way down the hall "What I don't understand is how the son of a bitch moved a bleeding corpse in here without anybody noticing, and without leaving a single fucking drop of blood!" Hutch stated angrily, gesturing at the floor as Banks and Ellison entered the office. Having heard the two detectives debating the "no trail of blood" issue as he walked down the hall, Jim started scanning the floor for any traces of any substance that was out of place. "What'd the janitor have to say?" Jim asked, dispensing with the amenities of greetings as he fought the chill that seeing the corpse in Blair's chair sent up and down his spine. "He cleans the buildings during a third shift schedule. He was going to empty the wastebaskets and mop the floors in these offices tonight." Starsky inclined his head toward the body. "When he got to this one, the door was opened, and our friend here was sitting in the chair. He thought at first that Sandburg had fallen asleep working at his desk, and wasn't surprised, since he said it wouldn't be the first time." "Where was he prior to discovering the body?" Simon asked. "On the floor above. He was up there for a good hour, hour and a half." Hutch sighed. "The killer had the ideal opening to slip in here and leave the body. What I can't understand is how you lug a bleeding corpse around, bring it into a building, presumably up the stairs because you need a key to work the elevator after hours, drag it down a hall and plunk it in a desk chair without attracting any attention or making and mess." Jim moved closer to the body, wondering why this should upset him so much. The intended imagery was obvious, but there was something so bizarre about Slater's killing...or maybe it was knowing what kind of mutilations most of the victims had suffered... It took every bit of his training to force him to examine it with his enhanced vision. Something shiny on the sleeve of the dead man's jacket caught his eye. "I need tweezers." He waited while Starsky called to one of the lab technicians, and procured a set of tweezers and a plastic bag, which he took to Jim. "What is it?" "Plastic," Jim opined, holding the tiny fragment up to the light. Starsky was squinting now, seeing little more than a thread of something in Ellison's tweezers. "From the looks of it, I'd say our killer wrapped the corpse in plastic, and effectively so--no leakage. As for not being noticed...well, it was the middle of the night, the janitor was upstairs. If he's strong, he could have lugged the body up three flights. This guy isn't huge," Jim commented, indicating the victim. "Are we clear to move him?" One of the coroner's people entered the room, while two attendants with a gurney waited just outside the door. "Not yet," Starsky held them off with a wave of his hand and went to look over the dead man's shoulder. "Didn't you tell me that someone else was grading Sandburg's students' papers while he was out?" "Yes. I'm not sure who, but I guess another grad student. Why?" Jim frowned, joining Starsky where he stood by the desk. "The date on these papers--they were turned in yesterday. So he had to get them from the student that was grading them." "Where's the janitor?" Jim asked, frowning and looking around. "In the student lounge, I imagine. We questioned him and told him to sit tight." Hutch paused. "Why?" "I...I'm not sure," Jim replied, moving toward the door. ******** Blair shifted again in his seat, too tired to read and too nervous to sit still. The middle-aged man sitting on the couch several feet away wasn't the regular janitor, and the icy stares he was leveling at Blair were making the younger man uneasy. The man had greasy brown hair and a full beard, and eyes that made Blair's blood run cold. Eyes that looked horribly familiar... "Are you filling in for Eddie?" Blair asked, hoping a little small talk might dispel the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah." "Is he sick?" "No," came the hushed, clipped reply. "On vacation?" Blair was beginning to detect something... something he had to tune into more carefully. He just needed more words from the other man. "Yeah." "Must have been pretty awful, finding that guy," Blair said, trying the sympathy approach. The other man turned and smiled what Blair could only call a malevolent leer. "He looked just like you...sitting there dead in your chair..all cut up and bleeding," he hissed. Blair's heart jump started and raced, his throat constricted so he couldn't speak, and he felt the strength drain out of his limbs. He'd know that voice anywhere...that voice, and those eyes. The other man rose, and moved closer to Blair, who slid down in his chair, angry at himself for not attacking the man, or at least running. But shock was dictating his actions now, and they were clumsy at best. "He didn't die until the very last minute. He felt every cut. Just like you will." "Freeze! Don't move," Jim ordered, the deadly intent in his heart coming through clearly in his voice. "Ellison," Slater chuckled, turning away from Blair to face the angry cop leveling the gun at him. "I have a message for you." "Yeah, and I got one for you. On the floor! Now! Face down, hands behind your head! MOVE!" With a maniacal leer, Slater pulled a knife from his pocket and lunged toward Blair. Angry at the way Slater was forcing him to do this and terrified for Blair at the same time, Jim opened fire. Six bullets tore into the madman's back, and his lifeless, bleeding body fell across Blair, where he still sat, frozen to the chair. "Goddamn stupid fucking move, Ellison!!" Starsky bellowed from behind as he strode into the student lounge. Jim spun on his heel, about to reply, but gave it up to go get the lifeless perp off Blair. He moved the body aside easily, checking to be sure there were no vital signs, even though he already knew Slater was dead. "Blair?" He squatted in front of his white-faced, shaking, blood-spattered partner. Slater's death had left its stain on Blair's clothes, in his hair and on his face. And Slater, the filthy, sick son of a bitch, had orchestrated it that way. Blair was silent, not responding to Jim's presence at all. He stared straight ahead, as if none of the other men were even in the room. The commotion of other cops and back up units arriving didn't stir him. "Did it ever occur to you that you just fucked up what was probably our only chance to ever figure out Slater's connection to Blair?" Starsky demanded. Jim ignored the admonition and took Blair's face in his hands. "Chief? Come on, buddy, look at me. *See* me." Jim patted at the clammy face. No response. "He's in shock," Starsky assessed, taking in Blair's condition. "He needs to get to the hospital." "Give us a minute. Just back off," Jim snapped angrily, pulling off his coat and putting it around Blair's shoulders. "Sandburg. Look at me. Slater's dead. It's over." "It's over all right," Starsky rose from checking the dead man's pulse and carried the knife with his handkerchief over to a plastic bag Hutch held open for it. "What was I supposed to do?! Stand here and let him kill Blair?!" Jim rose and turned away from his catatonic partner, advancing toward Starsky. "Tell me how I was supposed to do anything different here since you're the fucking expert!" "You could have played it a little cooler with him instead of using guerilla tactics to push a madman over the edge! Holy shit, Ellison, is this the way you *always* handle delicate situations?!" Starsky demanded, standing toe to toe with Jim, undaunted by any difference in their ages or sizes. "What's going on here?" Simon demanded as he entered the room, followed by the coroner's people. "Let me share one little piece of advice with you, Ellison--" "Save it! In case you haven't checked your ID lately, you're out of your jurisdiction, so don't try to pull some kind of seniority shit with me! This is my case and I handled it the way I saw fit!" "And you're doing a goddamned great job! Your partner's a blood-spattered zombie, the suspect is dead and you antagonized him before he could give you any answers about Sandburg's kidnapping! If this is you on a good day, I'd fucking hate to be around when you screw up!" "If you're as good as you think you are, you'd have known you were *questioning* Slater, for God's sake! Talk about having your head up your ass!" "The last time I saw Slater, the son of a bitch had blond hair and was clean-shaven! How the fuck was I supposed to know it was him with a fucking wig on?! And while we're at it, how'd you know it was him?" "Instincts." "Bullshit! What was it? Last time I looked, this was supposed to be a joint venture between our departments. What are you holding back?" "I told you--it was a hunch! You can quit giving me the third degree because I don't owe you any explanations!" Convinced the two volatile cops were going to chew each other to shreds, and Banks was going to try intervene, Hutch walked over to where Blair sat, still in his glassy-eyed state. "Come on, kiddo. We're going to get you cleaned up." Something in Hutch's calm approach seemed to at least move Blair to cooperate with standing up and walking. He steered Blair into the nearby men's room and flipped on the lights, then led him to the sink. "Jim was right. You don't have anything to worry about. Slater's history." The soft, gentle voice kept Blair calm as Hutch pulled the younger man's hands under the stream of water and washed off the streaks of Slater's blood that were caking there. Meanwhile, back in the student lounge, the battle of words was reaching a conclusion. "Let me share a few words of wisdom with you, Ellison. There's one reason you reacted the way you did here tonight, and that's because you wanted revenge against Slater for going after Sandburg. And that's understandable. But you pushed the guy's buttons until you *knew* you were going to force him into a situation that justified deadly force. If you're going to stay partnered with someone you love, you're going to have to learn the fine art of distancing yourself. Hutch and I have been doing that for close to 30 years now." "I think you're out of line, Detective Starsky," Simon spoke up. "Jim's not a psychiatrist. He can't be expected to psychoanalyze maniacs in the middle of a situation where a civilian's life is in danger. He did nothing in violation of procedure, and his use of deadly force was perfectly justified, and you know it." "No, Captain Banks, he didn't violate procedure, and I'm sure the review board will give this whole mess their stamp of approval. And don't misunderstand me--Slater was a waste of oxygen anyway. But that's not the point. We all know that it's possible to manipulate a situation to turn out the way you want it to. Slater held the key to *why* Sandburg was ever kidnapped in the first place. To finding the other kidnappers, and hopefully, their boss. This solves the Wesley Slater dilemma, and frankly, that's fine with me because it means we can board a plane in the morning and go home. But I would think that even Rambo here would be a little upset about fucking up the kidnapping case." "So I should have let him cut Blair up a little while I waited for information?" Jim asked, smiling and shaking his head. "He had a message for you. You should have fucking listened to him before you started shouting at him to hit the floor!" "He was playing a game. His message would have probably been to spin around and slit Blair's throat." "He didn't even have the knife out when you barked out that order." "Look, you two, you're not going to see eye to eye on this, so let's just get the reports written up, clean up this mess and get on with it," Simon said reasonably, resting his hands on his hips and giving both men a look that clearly said that was not a suggestion, but an order, politely phrased in deference to their guest. "Where's Sandburg?" Jim spun around, noticing the chair where he'd left Blair was empty. "Hutch took him out of here," Starsky replied, having caught sight of the other two men leaving the room while he was fighting with Ellison. "Shit." Jim turned on his heel and left the room, focusing every sense on finding his partner. It didn't take him long to pick up Blair's voice, strained and low, coming from the men's room. Jim swung open the door, and saw Hutch blotting water out of a small section of Blair's hair in the front where Slater's blood had landed. "Jim." Blair moved away from the sink and made a beeline for Jim, who gathered him into a tight embrace. "You gave me a real scare for a minute there, Chief." "What happened?" The question was muffled against Jim's chest, and Blair's confusion was plain in his voice. Jim's eyes flicked up to Hutch, who just shrugged. Apparently, Blair didn't remember the specifics of the events that had temporarily shocked him into silence. "We got Slater, pal. He's dead." "Why is there blood on my shirt?" Blair asked, his voice a little high with panic. "You were kind of close to the action, partner. You're not hurt." "I don't...remember...Jim? What happened?" "It's okay, buddy. You're a little bit shocky right now." "What did he do?" "He was pretending to be the janitor--" "So where's Eddie?" "Eddie?" Hutch asked. "The regular guy!" Blair was still a bit disoriented, but he seemed to put together that if Slater were masquerading as the night janitor, he had to dispose of said janitor somehow. "We've got a call in to the guy who's in charge of custodial services on campus to check out Slater's story that he was a new hire. He hasn't called back yet. I'll get a search going," Hutch volunteered, moving past them. "Thanks for helping out," Jim said, catching the other man by the arm as he passed. Hutch smiled. "Anytime." He continued out the door. "Jim, I don't remember anything after you telling me to wait in the student lounge!" "You've got a little dose of shock-induced amnesia, sweetheart. I had to shoot Slater. He was threatening you." "So this is his blood?" Blair moved back and looked down at himself, his face showing his disgust. "Yes." "I think I'm gonna be sick." "Take a deep breath, baby. You can do this. You've been at a lot of unpleasant crime scenes. Come on. Breathe." Jim slid an arm around Blair's shoulders and led him to the sink, helping him splash some cold water on his face. "Feeling better?" "I think so. I can't believe I lost it again. Those guys must think I'm a total pansy." "Nobody thinks you're a pansy, Blair," Jim responded, unable to stop smiling at the particular term Blair had chosen. "It's not funny." "No, it isn't," Jim said, chortling a little. "We might both be fairies, but by God, we are *not* pansies and that's final!" "Jim, dammit, I don't wanna laugh about this," Blair said, then burst into laughter. "It's inappropriate and politically incorrect," Jim added, right before he started laughing himself. It wasn't the best possible time for Simon to check on them, but having the perfect timing most bosses posses, the captain walked into the restroom to find the two men red-faced and laid against the wall, Blair mopping tears off his face and trying futilely to take a normal breath. The younger man wanted desperately to put together some sort of explanation for Simon about the spring of tension letting loose and hysteria-induced mirth, but every time he looked at the captain's stern face, he laughed harder. Sobered a bit by Simon's stony face, and the fact he was supposed to be handling a murder investigation, Jim pulled himself under control fairly well, fairly quickly. "Sorry, sir. Blair and I are a little punchy, I guess. I was trying to shake him out of his stupor, and I got a little carried away." "Apparently. Glad you're feeling better, Sandburg," Simon said a bit pointedly. "I am. Sorry, Simon. I really didn't mean to lose it like this. It won't happen again." "You got a good shock, Blair. I'm not blaming you for that. But we do have a rather pressing matter at hand in the student lounge." "Have they moved Slater?" "They bagged him and took him out to the wagon. Dr. Horton just arrived." "Oh, man," Blair commented, rolling his eyes. "He's the hard ass, right?" Jim asked Blair. The younger man nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah. President Horton to you, Detective," Blair replied in a lofty tone. The three of them walked back out to the student lounge. The outline of Slater's body, as well as a good deal of blood, was still visible. A tall man with receding gray hair and silver framed glasses was arguing with Hutch, who seemed to have all his dark-haired partner lacked in diplomacy. "You seriously expect me to close down an entire building for the day? Do you have any idea how many offices are in this building? Not to mention classrooms?" "Dr. Horton, we've found one corpse and there's been a shooting in this building. We haven't even finished the complete search. There's no way you can open the doors at in an hour and a half for business as usual." "Mr. Sandburg," Horton began, spotting Blair immediately. "I understand the dead man was found in your office." There was almost an accusatory note in his voice. "What do you know about this?" "Not much, I'm afraid. No more than Detective Hutchinson has probably already told you." "Captain Banks!" Rafe hurried up to join the group. He had been in charge of the building search. "We've got two in the basement." "Damn. ID?" "One is Edward Milford, and the other is a young woman, Jennifer Theisen," Rafe concluded, checking his notepad. "I sent the crime lab guys down there. Looks like multiple stab wounds." "Oh God." Blair's voice caught their attention as he dropped into the corner seat of a nearby couch. "Jenny and Eddie..." "I'll make the necessary arrangements to keep the building closed for the day," Dr. Horton said, nodding. "I would like to notify their families personally." "We can arrange for that, sir," Simon responded, leading the man away from the other police personnel and walking with him to a nearby reception desk where there was a telephone that could be used to handle their business. "I'm sorry about Jenny, Chief. I know she's been your assistant a while now." Jim sat on the arm of the couch near Blair. "I can't believe he killed her. Why?" Blair looked up at Jim with moist eyes. "I don't want to think about what he did to her first." "He probably came in here after hours to do the deed, and she was in the office for some reason," Starsky offered, handing a cup of coffee to Blair and then handing the second one to Jim. "I was fresh out of olive branches," he said, taking a seat on the couch. "Coffee goes down easier," Jim responded, smiling slightly. "There was no forced entry, and there were papers on your desk dated today--yesterday, I mean. The M.E. estimated time of death for the guy at the desk at about midnight, and he was probably placed in the chair around one. Seems pretty late for a student to be hanging around this building." "Not really. Jenny has...*had* a part-time job as a waitress at the restaurant on Chandler Street...uhh...Pegasus." "Pegasus?" Starsky frowned at the odd name. "They have massive chicken wings there--so they named it after a winged horse," Jim explained. Two corpses in the basement, and the two cops were talking about chicken wings. Blair had to smile as it occurred to him that he was very glad Starsky was "married". Jim and the other detective seemed a gastric match made in heaven. "Clever," Starsky opined, laughing a little. "So she worked late there?" "They don't close until midnight, and occasionally she'd come over here and catch up on stuff. I should have told her not to do that." "This from the man with the nighthawk study group." "See, Jim, that's the thing. This is supposed to be a safe place. A place for learning and teaching and... I'm not making any sense." "It's a place that's supposed to be safe territory. A peaceful place. That makes sense," Jim added. "But no place is ever 100% safe. That's the sick reality we have to live with." Jim reached over and laid a hand on Blair's back. "So Jenny could have been working in the office when he showed up?" "Yeah, she probably was. And he had to kill Eddie because he'd be doing his cleaning about now. I think that was one reason Jenny didn't worry too much about coming in after hours. Eddie was a great guy, and she said he usually walked her out when she left, and checked on her a couple times while she was there. God, Jim, he had two children--he was only forty years old. His oldest kid is only nine," Blair said, his voice breaking. "You knew this guy pretty well, huh?" Jim asked gently. "Yes," Blair answered quietly, closing his eyes briefly. Tears slid out from under both lids, which he swiped away quickly. "Look, Chief, I'm going to see if I can track Rafe down and have him take you home. Starsky and I have to go downstairs." "I should go with you." "No. I don't want you involved in that phase of things this time out, buddy. Trust me on this one, huh?" Jim took a hold of Blair's hand and squeezed it. "Okay." "You go find Rafe. I'll join you downstairs after he gets here," Starsky offered. "Great. Thanks." Jim headed for the stairs. "You don't have to babysit me. I'll be okay." "It wouldn't be odd if you weren't. You've had some pretty bad shocks tonight." Starsky looked at the younger man with great compassion. Blair was a scholar, not a cop. It was at a time like this that it was so painfully obvious that the violence and heartless slaughter of innocent people that Blair was forced to deal with so frequently took a very heavy toll on him emotionally. "You're handling all this very well, Blair." "Sure I am. I either pass out or puke every time something major happens." Blair shook his head. "Jenny was so young. She was my friend," he added, giving up and letting the tears flow at the thought of the cheerful young girl who had organized his chaotic office and often shared confidences over coffee when they both took a break from one of Blair's many projects. He put his head down in one hand and cried. "Not fair, is it?" Starsky asked, slipping his arm around Blair's shoulders. "She was in here...doing m-my w-work." "Hey. Don't start thinking that way. You never asked her to work here at midnight." "I saw Eddie...all the time. I...was here...late a lot." Blair tried to regain his composure and wiped at his eyes again. "Slater's dead. At least he can't put anyone else through this. Looks like my replacement's here. You hang in there, huh?" he said to Blair, giving his shoulders a little squeeze and standing up as Rafe entered the room. ******** Jim opened the door to the loft and tossed his keys in the basket. Rafe, who had been sleeping on the couch, jerked back to consciousness. Since he'd been called back in to work after just leaving following an all night stakeout, he had been grateful for the opportunity to catch a nap. "Thanks for hanging around. I didn't want to leave Sandburg on his own." "No problem. So how bad were things with the janitor and the girl?" "No mutilation. Slater wasn't taking any special pains with them. Our friend in the desk chair upstairs wasn't so lucky. His murder fit the M.O. of the slasher movie--just like we expected. Where's Blair?" "He went upstairs to lie down." Rafe seemed a little puzzled by that, but he didn't say anything. "I better get going. I've got a court appearance in--shit!! In five minutes." Rafe flew out the door of the loft, barely sparing Jim a backward glance. It was almost ten in the morning, and Jim only had a few minutes to check on his partner before he re-joined their visiting detectives and tied up the loose ends of the Slater mess. And what a God-awful mess it had been. He wondered how many times Jennifer's mother's anguished screams from the morgue would reverberate in his head before fading to a dull, painful memory like all the other screams of all the other shattered mothers before her. Wearily climbing the stairs, he had similar thoughts about Eddie's more stoic wife, whose quiet agony was every bit as wrenching as any scream of pain. "Jim?" Blair's head shot up off the pillow as if he expected the hounds of hell to be bounding up the stairs instead of one exhausted cop. "Hey, sweetheart." Jim tossed his jacket aside and stretched out on the bed next to his fully clothed partner. "You okay, baby?" He reached over and stroked Blair's cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. He found moisture there. "I'm so sorry about Jenny and Eddie, pal. I really am." "He killed them...like they were disposable. They weren't even important kills." "I know. You're right." Jim let out a long sigh. "What's wrong?" Blair scooted over and Jim pulled his lover close against his side. "Starsky had a few opinions about my handling of Slater. I just wonder how right he was." "What really happened? Please tell me. I know it was bad, and I know I ended up with Slater's blood on me, but I don't remember how." "While you were waiting for me in the student lounge, Slater was in there too, playing his janitor role, and he talked to you. I could hear your voice when I was down the hall, so I tuned in. I heard your heartbeat picking up, and I knew something was wrong. You were scared. So I headed down there, and when I got there, he was--" "Standing over me," Blair finished. "And you shot him." "He wouldn't cooperate with what I told him to do about getting down on the floor, then he turned on you with the knife, and I had to empty the gun into him to be damn sure he didn't have any chance to get a swipe in at you before he dropped." "And he dropped on me." Blair shuddered. "You remember?" "Yeah. Too well." "I'm glad you're not blocking it anymore." "There were a jumble of pictures in my head before. I sort of knew what happened, but I couldn't make it fit together." "Are you going to be okay to come in with me for a few hours to wrap things up?" "Yeah. Think we could get a few hours later for some down time?" "Sure." "So you and Starsky really went at each other." "Yeah. Tooth and nail." "Who won?" "Simon called it a draw." "I vaguely remember you arguing, but I don't remember what it was about." "He was pissed off that I shot Slater. He thought I purposely escalated the situation so I could do it with justification." Jim let out a sigh. "The worst part of it is, I'm not sure he's wrong. He said if I were going to continue working with someone I loved that I had to be more objective--or distanced or something like that. That I was after revenge." "The guy was gonna kill me." "When I shot him, yes. But before that, he said he had a message. I was so goddamned mad at him that I didn't care. I told him to hit the floor, face down. I didn't even listen. Starsky's point was that I might have fucked up our only chance to understand why you were kindapped in the first place." "Jim, I was only an arm's reach away from the guy. You couldn't have known it was safe to stand there and keep him talking." "That's what I said," Jim responded, smiling. "God, I love you so much, Blair." Jim shifted onto his side and gathered his lover into a tight hug. "I just hope I didn't blow this whole case." "Slater's dead. It doesn't matter anymore." "I meant your kidnapping case, sweetheart. That's always been number one with me." Jim felt the arms around him tighten. "I know that. Even with all the consultants and the hoopla about Slater, I know that mattered most to you all along. We'll figure it out, partner." "Hey, we've got to get moving." Jim pulled back. "Starsky and Hutchinson are still at the PD, and we're trying to track down where Slater was staying." "I love you." Blair reached up and cupped Jim's cheek with his hand. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, man. The very best." "Since you've been with me, you've been shot at, kidnapped, beaten up, pushed around, teased by a bunch of numbskull cops and your schedule would keep three people stressed out." "Yeah, there's that," Blair responded, laughing a little. "But there's having someone miss me when I'm gone, having a place to call home and really feel the meaning of the word for the first time, and there's sleeping in the arms of somebody you know is going to love you for the rest of your life. There's being with somebody who cares enough about what happens to you to be worried or pissed off when you don't call. All of that is *so* new to me, Jim. I never had it before I met you." "I wish I could...tell you how I feel. I just...the right words aren't there, or if they are, I can't come up with them." "You're telling me now. Every time you hold me or touch me, or take care of me when I'm hurting, or do something nice for me just because--it's all there, Jim. You don't have to tell me a bunch of words. I see it in those remarkable blue eyes of yours, and I feel it in your touches. You could snap a man's neck without a lot of effort, and I've seen you drop-kick somebody across a room. But when you touch me, it's like you're touching something delicate and precious. Nobody's ever touched me like that. Maybe because I'm not delicate, and I haven't really been all that precious to anybody before." "You are to me," Jim whispered, covering Blair's mouth with his own, kissing him as gently as he knew how. "When this is over, we're going to have some time for us." "We better get going, huh?" "Yeah." Jim hauled himself up off the bed. "Can't tell Simon I came home to pick you up and you seduced me instead." "*I* seduced *you*." "You're better suited to the role of seducer than I am, Chief," Jim added, chortling a little. "You're more...exotic." "Exotic?" Blair dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed he'd just left. Jim turned around, still smiling, to see his lover's stunned expression. "Yup, exotic." Jim kissed the top of Blair's head. "Come on, Chief. Time to haul ass out of here." Jim headed down the stairs, leaving a completely speechless Blair to scramble to his feet and hurry after him. ******** "You really lit into Ellison back at the University," Hutch said, taking a drink of his coffee. The two men had taken a break to go to the coffee shop near the PD to get a light breakfast. "You really think he had that coming?" "He handled Slater with the finesse of a bulldozer. For whatever the son of a bitch was, he *did* hold the key to Sandburg's kidnapping. Ellison antagonized him into action and then took advantage of the situation to kill him because he frightened Blair." "And we've never done anything over the top for each other--something that stretched the rules?" "Sure. But--" "You remember the Haymes case?" "That's a low blow, babe," Starsky responded, not looking up at his partner. "It's been over 20 years." "I'm not criticizing how you handled the situation. I'm just saying that you shot at that car, hit the gas tank and blew up the perps because you thought they had just killed me. They were the only ones who knew where that girl was. If we hadn't had the leads provided by Joe Collandra, we'd have never found her." "You don't have to replay the whole fucking case for me. I was there, remember?" Starsky spat out angrily. "My point is that Ellison did what his instincts told him to protect his partner, and to remove a threat to his partner's life. It's no more extreme than some of the things we've done for each other and you know it. The real problem here is that the two of you are both stubborn bastards who are used to being in charge and you're having a territory battle." Hutch shook his head. "He's pissed because we've been brought in on this case as if he couldn't handle it without help, and we know we've got more years of experience handling psychos like Slater, so when he took Slater out, you were pissed he didn't handle things the way *we* would have done it." "I think we should offer to stay on and work the kidnapping case." "Ellison'll love that." Hutch laughed softly, shaking his head and taking another bite of his wheat toast. "If he wants to refuse it, he can. We'll make the offer to him and Sandburg--not to Banks. Because if he likes the idea, he'll turn it into an order, and we'll never get anything accomplished." Starsky eyed the last sausage on Hutch's plate. With a roll of the eyes, the blond pushed the plate toward him, and Starsky gobbled the remaining food happily. "You should really cut down your fat intake, Starsk," Hutch opined, watching his partner lick the sausage grease off his lips. "I'm healthy as a horse. Doctor said so last month," Starsky countered, citing his most recent annual physical. "I think you're doing that just to prove me wrong." "Nah, that's just an added bonus," Starsky added, grinning mischievously. ******** Jim and Blair arrived back at the Major Crimes bullpen near eleven, to find their guests were ensconced in their temporary office going over Slater's personal effects. Simon had located an empty office before Starsky and Hutchinson's arrival and had it set up to accommodate their guests. Jim tapped on the door, which was a few doors down from Major Crimes. "Come in," Hutch's voice carried through the door. "Anything from Slater's stuff?" Jim asked, entering the office with Blair in tow. "First glance didn't give us much, but he did have a receipt in here from a place called One-Stop Food Mart," Starsky responded. "That's not far from the U," Blair spoke up. "Most of the dorm and frat house students shop there." "How easy is it to rent a room near the campus?" Hutch asked Blair. "Depends on the season. Right now, late fall, when everybody's pretty well settled...sometimes it's easier. Students drop out and leave, but other's don't join mid-semester. I'd say you have to be watching for it, but it's not overly difficult." "I think we should assume that Slater lived somewhere near where he bought his food, and start tracking it that way," Jim opined. "Sounds reasonable to me." Starsky paused. "We'd like to stay on after the Slater mess is wrapped up and help out with the kidnapping case." "Any special reason?" Jim asked, obviously puzzled. "A couple," Starsky responded. He glanced over at Blair, who seemed pleased by this turn of events. For some reason, that made Starsky inexplicably happy. "First of all, we're assuming that Slater *didn't* mastermind the kidnapping because he left Sandburg alive, and because he didn't *appear* to be in charge. So it's possible we're still dealing with a crime instigated by Slater, in which case I would like to close the circle by solving it. Secondly, we're assuming that just because Blair isn't a cop, he has no enemies angry enough to want him dead. I want to see that angle pursued more vehemently to find the motive." "I imagine it's a done deal anyway. I'm sure Simon will be delighted with the offer." Jim was still a bit bristly about the argument earlier that morning, and his truce with Starsky seemed a bit shaky at best. "We didn't mention this to Banks," Hutch spoke up. "It's entirely up to you to accept or refuse the offer." Hutch shrugged. "Of course I'm not saying we won't follow up on a few leads on our own one way or the other, but whether or not we stay on here and work with you is your choice." "I think it's a great idea," Blair spoke up. "Four heads are better than two," he added, looking nervously at Jim. The larger man smiled. It was apparent that what Blair wanted, he generally got, and this would be no exception. "Okay. Fine. Thanks for the help," Jim managed, smiling slightly. "Blair, do you know of anyone who would have a motive to go after you?" Starsky asked, leaning on the desk around which they all sat. "I can't honestly think of anybody unless it's something connected to my work with the PD." "Do you keep your old grade books?" Hutch asked. "Yes." "From all the courses you've ever taught?" he persisted. "Yes. Even if I'm grading stuff for other profs, I write down the student's name, the project, the course number and the grade, just so I have a record in case there's any question. All that stuff's in my office." "Do you flunk very many students?" Starsky asked. "I try not to. It's a last resort, if they aren't willing to work with me to bring up their grades. I give them lots of warning." "But you've had to fail some?" "Yes." "Any threats of retaliation, revenge, whatever you can remember?" "A couple. I've gotten slammed around by a pissed off football player before, and I had my tires slashed once, but generally speaking, students either handle it, knew it was coming or get really angry, but don't usually threaten the professor." "Ever had anyone lose out on team membership, financial aid, parental support--anything like that--because of being flunked out of one of your classes?" Starsky queried. "I don't know for sure. Possibly. I know the football team guy got tossed off the team. I think one girl had to move back home. But she had flunked three of five classes, so I was in good company on that one." "When you were granted your teaching fellowship, was there a lot of competition for it?" Starsky persisted. "Yeah, quite a bit," Blair responded, smiling. "What is it?" Starsky smiled back. "You remembered the right term for it. That's kind of unusual." "It's a real accomplishment--it oughtta at least get called by its right name." Starsky paused. "Do you know anything about the other candidates?" "Not a great deal. I know one guy got an assistantship at UCLA--" "That's not as good though, right?" "No. Right. It isn't as much financial support. Plus, aside from teaching, I've had the opportunity to participate in some research projects, which has helped my publication record quite a bit." "You've been published?" Starsky asked. "A few times, in scholarly periodicals. I have an article at 'National Geographic', but I haven't heard back from them. It's more mainstream, so it would have been fun to get something in there." "Wow. I knew professors had to write articles, but I didn't know you'd already gotten started," Starsky responded, taking a couple of notes. "Who would have the list of applicants? The registrar?" "Probably the Dean of Social Sciences, Dr. Carmichael. She did all the interviews, along with the department chair. But the paperwork is probably in the dean's office." "How about any other competitive situations you've been in where someone lost to you?" Hutch added. "There haven't been many. I got a scholarship to Rainier when I was 16, but a lot had to do with my age, and my GPA. I don't think it was really a competition in terms of someone losing out because I got it. I haven't had any jobs anyone would be jealous of until the fellowship, which could have pissed some people off who didn't get it." "Okay. That gives us a couple places to start. See, the thing is, a killer can often be set off by something minor--well, not *minor*, but not something the average person would kill for. Losing out on a job, a promotion, a girlfriend, whatever--and their target is often the person who *did* get that thing they wanted." Hutch exhaled. "So we need your grading records, the applicant info from the dean's office--anything else?" "Follow up records from the registrar on the students Blair did have to fail," Jim interjected, speaking for the first time in several minutes. He had been quietly assessing the interaction between Blair and Starsky, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He picked up no traces of lust from either man for the other, but they had a rapport that was unusual for two such different people who had only known each other a couple of days. "Okay. Blair, who do we need to talk to in order to get this stuff?" Hutch asked. "My stuff is accessible for the asking. I mean, I know you're not going to do anything with it but use it for the investigation, so I have no problems with turning over my records. You'll probably need to get a court order to get the application paperwork, and it would be easier to work through the President's Office for that, and the registrar's information, since they have to break confidentiality to do it." "I can handle the technicalities," Jim offered, taking the list Starsky tore off a legal pad. Being the only official Cascade PD cop in the room, he was the only one who *could* request the necessary court orders. ******** "How're you feeling, sweetheart?" Jim asked as he joined his partner in the bedroom after finishing up in the bathroom downstairs. It was actually only ten in the evening, but the thought of catching up on some sleep was a seductive one. "Okay." Blair was reading an ominous-looking big volume as he sat cross-legged on his side of the bed, closest to the wall. In his t-shirt and sweatpants, hair falling forward as he read, Jim thought he was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. "Been a rough day," Jim opined, tossing his robe aside and climbing into bed. In a pair of lightweight boxers, he was comfortable under the bedding. He smiled at the thought of finding other ways to keep Blair warm so the neck-to-ankles bedwear could be dispensed with soon. He slid up in a sitting position and took the large book out of Blair's hands. "Hey--" "You need to relax a little, baby." "Jim, I've gotta get through that--" "Tonight?" "Well, no, but soon." "Tomorrow's soon enough. Come on. Time to shut down the brain for a few hours." Blair reluctantly dispensed with his glasses and slid down in the bed as Jim did the same. "I'm so far behind, Jim. I don't know how I'm ever gonna get caught up." "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Hold me and tell me I can do it?" Blair responded honestly. "You got it, Chief." He spooned himself around Blair from behind and held him close. "I honestly believe you can handle it, Blair. And I don't have to work you so hard at the PD for a couple weeks until you get your head above water." "I really like working with Starsky and Hutch. They're good guys. I'm glad they're going to be around for a while." "Yeah, they're good cops. Hopefully we'll find some kind of lead out of the stack of paperwork we've got to plow through." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder. "How's your back?" "Pretty good. I still feel it a little, but not as much." "I think I should investigate the situation personally." Jim pulled Blair's t-shirt up a bit in back and slid down to kiss the exposed skin. "Seems okay so far--but I need to see the whole thing to be sure." "Really?" Blair played along, moving up long enough to dispose of the t-shirt. Jim still felt a stab of anger mixed with heartache for the pain Blair had suffered when he saw the fading damage, but it *was* fading. He kissed his way along several of the pale pink marks, smiling against the soft skin when he heard Blair's little whimpers of pleasure. He took his time moving across the expanse of Blair's back, letting his lips dance lightly over the surface until he reached Blair's shoulders, and then the back of his neck. His arousal was starting to make itself known, and he could catch the scent that told him Blair was right there with him. "Love you," he whispered against one curl-covered ear, then kissed it. Blair rolled over to face him, claiming his mouth with passionate enthusiasm. Jim slid his arms around his lover's body, still careful to be gentle, but knowing Blair's pain had lessened enough that he could be touched without discomfort. They kissed for long minutes, learning every little characteristic of each other's mouths. When Blair broke free, he began kissing his way across the broad expanse of Jim's chest, pausing to lick and suck at one of the tiny nubs there. The sensation was like a lightning bolt of pleasure that seared through Jim's body, making him arch and groan low in his throat. He could feel Blair smiling against him, pleased with the reaction, moving on to the second nipple to see if it worked as well on that side. It did. Jim's wandering hands soon were not content with Blair's back, and found their way under the waistband of his sweatpants to squeeze and knead the firm globes there. Blair moaned and wrapped a leg around Jim's leg, his tongue thrusting harder into the larger man's mouth. Sliding the impeding garment over the curve of Blair's buttocks, Jim waited while his partner kicked them the rest of the way off. Not to be outdone, Blair divested Jim of his boxers with equal efficiency. "Is this okay?" Jim asked breathlessly, his hand slipping gently around Blair's hardening shaft. "Ooh, yeah," Blair responded, arching at the touch and mirroring the gesture. "Come on, baby, it won't break off," Jim goaded, kissing Blair's forehead, since the other man's face was turned downward, concentrating on his task. The strokes became a bit firmer and faster, enough so to be real pleasure instead of teasing caresses. Jim picked up the pace of his own strokes to Blair. "Oh, God...Jim...I'm gonna..." "Right...behind you, baby..." Jim ground out, pumping faster, letting out a shout of ecstasy as Blair followed his lead, bringing him to a climax. As he spilled his seed onto Blair's pumping hand, belly and chest, Blair let out a few little shouts of pleasure as his own orgasm ripped through him, bathing Jim in the results. Arms and legs wound around each other, pulling the two men close as they recovered. "Love you, sweetheart," Jim managed, kissing Blair's cheek and then finding his lips. "That was beautiful," Blair murmured, kissing the spot on Jim's chest that happened to be under his lips at the moment. "You're beautiful," Jim countered, letting his hand trail down the damp, cooling back to the rounded buttocks. "Absolutely beautiful." "We should get cleaned up." Blair started to get up, but Jim pulled him back down again, rolling them so that Blair was pinned beneath him. He leisurely kissed and nibbled at Blair's lips. "Not letting you go," he growled into Blair's ear, tugging on the lobe gently with his teeth. "You want to be all sticky?" "As long as I'm all sticky with you, that's fine by me, Chief." Jim was still busily licking and nibbling his way down Blair's throat, stopping to plant a very large passion mark on his Adam's apple. "That's gonna show," Blair protested weakly. "Mm-hm," Jim agreed, finding an equally succulent spot on Blair's shoulder. When he'd finished, he licked the second mark. "So will that one." "Not under my shirt." "Who said you were going to be allowed to wear a shirt for the next 24 hours?" "Think Simon'll okay me running around naked just for your personal amusement?" Blair countered, laughing. "Always getting hung up on the details, Sandburg." Jim started kissing his way down Blair's neck again, nuzzling him and finally licking at his throat and down to the beginnings of the hair on Blair's chest. The younger man already felt the beginnings of another erection, and Jim felt his own shaft filling again. "Jim...make love to me." "That's what I'm doing, baby," he responded, lowering his head to attack a nipple. "No...I mean all the way. For real." Blair watched as the head hovering over his chest stopped, then moved up until Jim was face to face with him. "Are you sure you want to try that?" "I'm sure. I want to feel you inside me." "It's not that simple. It's going to be painful at first, sweetheart." "No pain, no gain, right? Come on, Jim. I love you. You love me. You know we're both dying for it. Why not?" Jim found his body couldn't argue with that logic, even if his brain was intent on making an issue of it. He took Blair's mouth in a fiery kiss, his hands sliding down to possessively knead the globes of his lover's ass. Hands roamed over hot flesh, mouths and tongues savored tastes of each other as their lovemaking continued. "Let's try it on your knees, baby," Jim suggested, not sure exactly how this would be easiest for Blair. He hoped by getting the younger man's ass up higher that the penetration might go more smoothly. Blair scrambled up on the bed to oblige, spreading his legs and lowering his elbows to the mattress. "Oh, man," Jim gasped, trying to convince his throbbing hard-on that it didn't need to ram in to the hilt on the first stroke. Placing his hands gently on Blair's hips, he kissed and licked the upturned buttocks, smiling at Blair's groans of pleasure as he made his way to the tiny little pucker, where he paused, then darted his tongue inside. "J-im...Oh God...Oh...do that again..." Blair's head had dropped to folded arms by now, and he was breathing heavily. Jim obliged the request, loving how crazy this was making Blair. "That's gonna be me in there, baby," he promised in a low, husky voice. Blair just whimpered and wiggled his ass invitingly. Jim leaned over to the nightstand and rifled the drawer with one hand until he found a tube of aloe vera lotion. He could feel Blair's body tense a bit, so he stroked his lover's back soothingly. "Relax, sweetheart. We're going to take it slow." Squeezing some of the lotion out on his fingers, he hesitantly moved his hand toward Blair, carefully probing the little hole with the tip of his finger. Slowly, he rotated and moved it until it was sheathed until the second knuckle. "Still okay?" he asked softly. "Yeah. Just...different." Blair's voice had an odd quality to it. Not exactly strained, but definitely less relaxed than he had been. Jim worked the finger in the tight passage for a while until he felt Blair relaxing around him. With great caution and a lot of lotion, he worked his way up to a second finger. "Starting to feel good, lover," Blair encouraged, and Jim could feel the relaxation in his partner's body. "You're so tight, baby. God, you're going to be incredible," Jim said, a bit in awe of what they were doing. Encouraged by Blair's obvious enjoyment of the movement of his fingers, Jim finally added a third finger, which Blair accommodated with a minimum of discomfort. "Thought you hadn't done this before," Blair ground out, moving in time with Jim's fingers now. "I've...uh...put a dildo in a woman before." "Ellison...I'm shocked," Blair replied, stifling a chortle. It turned to a shout when Jim found his prostate. "Oh, God..." "A woman doesn't have one of those, baby." Jim rubbed over the little gland again, smiling at the cry of pleasure it dragged out of his lover. "Come on, Jim...do it." Jim was in no condition to turn down the invitation. Coating himself with the lotion, he positioned himself at Blair's center and started easing his way inside the hot passage. Blair's sharp indrawn breath froze him in his tracks. "Blair?" He tried to convince his voice that it really did want to come out audibly. The head of his cock had been swallowed in a vise, and all he wanted to do was slide into home base and get some relief. "Wait...I...need a minute." The discomfort behind Blair's words was more than sufficient to make Jim wait forever if necessary. "Try to relax, sweetheart. I won't move til you tell me." //Or until I die and collapse on top of you, whichever comes first.// Jim worked hard at finding some kind of breathing exercise to do, police radio codes to recite, the boy scout oath...anything to calm himself down while he waited. Feeling Blair's muscles relax a bit, he ached to move forward, but waited for his lover's permission. "Okay," Blair said, but it wasn't too convincing, and he was still breathing raggedly. Jim pushed in a bit further, but halted at Blair's groan. "Jim...God...wait a minute. It hurts." "Try to calm down, baby. You're tensing up, and that's probably making it hurt. Don't fight it if you feel some spasms in your stomach. It takes time to pass." "How...d'you know?" "The dildo thing, remember?" "Oh yeah," Blair gasped. "Try more." "No." //Shit, Ellison, you're a masochist. You like having your dick pinched off at the end?// "Try to breathe, Blair. Relax, sweetheart." Jim slipped a little further in, and another pained groan decided him. This wasn't working. "I'm pulling out, baby. I need you to relax for me. It's going to feel better in a second, but I can't pull out fast with you tensed up." "Don't do that! I'll do better. Please...just...give me time." "It's hurting you, Chief. Nothing's worth that." Jim felt his erection cooperating a bit. He worked at slowly withdrawing as his cock softened. When they were separated, Blair shifted and turned on his side, away from Jim. "I couldn't do it...I doesn't fit," he said miserably. "Shhh, don't worry about it, sweetheart. We'll work it out when it's right. I don't think when we're horny is a good time to do this." "That's usually when people do it," Blair replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "What I mean is...we started doing this tonight because we wanted sex. We wanted the physical part of it. But our minds...we're so damned fragmented with this case, and everything that happened at the U this morning. I just think we picked a lousy time to try this." "I'm too small for you! It isn't going to make any damn difference when we do it! My asshole won't get bigger because we wait longer!" There was a hint of tears in the last words. "This isn't your fault, Chief." "Whose fault is it? You were doing fine! I'm the one who couldn't accommodate you." Jim wrapped himself around Blair from behind, just holding him close and letting him talk it out. "I always thought the one place that...that I wasn't too small for *anything* was in bed." "Blair, your height has nothing to do with the size of your anus. You were nervous, and we're both stressed. I needed stress relief as much as I needed lovemaking. I was too wired to play with you long enough to get you really ready. Besides, maybe we'll have to work our way up to the main event. My fingers felt okay, didn't they?" "Yeah." Blair sighed. "That's why I thought the rest of it would feel good. But it hurt like hell, and my stomach cramped up and I didn't like it," Blair said honestly, his voice breaking. "Nobody likes to be hurt, baby." Jim leaned forward far enough to kiss Blair's ear, since he couldn't reach his face and the other man wasn't moving to make it more accessible. "As soon as it started hurting you got more upset and nervous, right?" There was a little nod. "I knew what was coming was even more intense, and I couldn't picture it all fitting inside me, and when it hurt like that, I didn't think it could." "You're not too small, sweetheart, and there's nothing wrong with being nervous. We're just not ready." "You mean *I'm* not ready." "Yeah, well, you didn't see me flopping on my stomach and begging to go first either." Jim lightly rubbed Blair's stomach as he pulled him closer. "It's a big change for both of us." After kissing Blair's shoulder, he moved his lips up near his lover's ear. "I'm sorry I hurt you, baby. Do you feel okay now?" "A little sore, but not too bad." Blair shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine." "It wasn't anybody's fault. It was bad timing. But one thing we know now." "That I've got the smallest asshole in the United States?" "Besides that," Jim said, deadpan. He smiled as Blair laughed. "We know now that we want each other physically. That we can have a good time in bed together. I think that's a pretty important milestone." "But it was a disaster." "The first time wasn't. Last time I looked, we were both lying here with dried come on our bellies. Something went right tonight. We just need to move slowly." "How long are you going to be satisfied with hand jobs?" "As long as you are. You aren't getting any either. What makes you think I can't last as long as you can to get this right?" "I think you *can* do anything you want. It's more a matter of when it becomes not worth the struggle." "So how long have I got?" "For what?" "Before you get sick of not drilling me into the mattress and dump me for a chesty T.A. who can show you a good time?" "The rest of my life," Blair answered softly, his hand stroking over Jim's arm where it crossed the younger man's waist. "I feel the same way, Chief. We're going to be together the rest of our lives. Let's just relax a while. We can keep each other from a nasty case of blue balls while we're waiting. Beyond that, why worry about it?" "But sticking it into something hot and tight is the sensation you're used to." "Unlike you, who have been celibate for the last five years." "Okay, so it's what I'm used to too." Blair had a little smile in his voice. "We're both used to topping. Neither one of us knows the first thing about bottoming." "Is that a word?" "You're asking *me*?" "Oh, yeah, I guess I'm s'posed to be the expert, huh?" "That would be you, yes," Jim agreed, yawning widely. "I can see you're all shaken up about this." Blair chuckled a little. "We've had a rotten day, we've both come once tonight, I say we call it a day and get some sleep." Blair smiled to himself as he remembered Starsky's advice: if it doesn't work out, jerk each other off and go to sleep and forget about it. He let out a pent up breath and settled into Jim's arms. "Love you, Jim." "Love you too, Chief. Everything'll be okay." Jim let himself relax as he felt the tension leave Blair's body. ******** "This has to be the biggest waste of time we've gotten into yet," Hutch declared, visibly frustrated as he got up and paced around their temporary office. "Not one of these people ended up bad off enough to want Sandburg dead or even maimed a little. Most of them don't have enough money to hire muscle, half of them honestly didn't remember him by name..." He picked up his coffee and took a drink. "Maybe we better go back to looking at Ellison's past." "You've gotta learn to relax a little, blintz," Starsky moved up behind his partner and squeezed the other man's ass through his jeans. "Shit, Starsk," Hutch sputtered, choking on his coffee and setting the cup down to face his partner. "Give a guy a little warning." "Consider yourself warned, babe," Starsky retorted, sliding his arms around Hutch's waist. "Wanna see how sturdy the desk really is?" he asked, flexing his eyebrows lecherously and grinning evilly. "Someone could walk in that door any minute." "If you're trying to turn me off, that wasn't the approach to use, blondie." He pulled the slightly taller man down for a prolonged kiss, melting Hutch's resistance as easily as he always did. He felt his lover's long arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him close. Soon, a long-fingered hand wandered down to Starsky's ass, kneading the flesh through the denim. "I got that printout back from--" Jim froze in the doorway, papers in hand, not sure if he should go back out again or finish his entrance. The door had just been pushed around to the frame, and he had been with the two detectives fifteen minutes earlier. Knocking hadn't seemed necessary. "Uh, I, uh..." "That's okay," Starsky said cheerfully. "You caught us before I threw him on the desk. No harm done." "I'll get you for that later, babe," Hutch promised under his breath, of course unaware that Jim could hear everything with crystal clarity. "I'm countin' on it," Starsky replied pleasantly, as if they'd just made a lunch date. "So, do we have anything new?" "Well, I've been checking out everyone connected to Slater. His mother's still alive, but she's pushing 90. His father's been dead about six years, natural causes. He has two brothers--" "One's in the state pen in California for rape and aggravated assault, and the other's a flunky for a suspected mob boss," Hutch supplied. "We know all this crap already." "So what was I running the damn check for?" Jim tossed the folder on the desk, more than a little annoyed to have been sent off to do what sounded like busy work. It had taken quite a while to define the parameters of the report for the computer, a process Jim didn't enjoy to begin with, and now, they acted as if they already knew everything contained in the results. "You ran the check to see if there was anything new," Hutch responded just as Blair came through the door with a large bag of breakfast take-outs. "I could have had someone in the file room do that. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a fucking file clerk." "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starved." Starsky reached into the bag and started fishing out omelets, passing them around according to the scrawled omelet titles on the wrappers. All they needed was another horn-locking episode with Ellison. "Everything okay?" Blair asked, hesitantly accepting a wrapped omelet from Starsky. "If you felt running a report on Slater was too menial, I apologize for asking you to do it. We did need to know if there was anything new on him." "You'll have to forgive me. I was a detective before I became an errand boy," Jim shot back, then grimaced. "I'm a little on edge this morning. Sorry." "I'll get us some coffee," Blair offered, getting up and leaving the room. Starsky glanced down at the mostly full cups sitting around on the desk. "Is he okay?" he asked Jim, who just shrugged. "Why are you so worried about Sandburg?" Jim asked, tired of the other cop's obvious interest in his partner. Jim still didn't pick up on anything sexual in it, but it unnerved him nonetheless. "He's a good kid. I was just concerned about him." Detecting he had overstepped some kind of line with Ellison, Starsky fell silent and opened his omelet. "Blair's fine. This whole case has just been a hard one for him." Jim opened his own breakfast, trying to ease a little of the tension in the air between them. He hoped some of the tension he felt over the previous night's bedroom disaster would ease before he decapitated someone. ******** Blair continued to be silent and withdrawn most of the day, and Ellison had stuck close to him like a jealous pit bull. Starsky had given up on finding an opportunity to draw the younger man out a bit. Ellison wouldn't get five feet away from the kid at any time. "Penny for your thoughts, Gordo," Hutch said, sitting behind Starsky where the dark-haired man was perched on the side of the hotel bed. Large hands began working the knots out of Starsky's tense shoulders. "Nothin' special, babe. I was just wondering what was eating Blair all day." "You really care about that kid, don't you?" Hutch asked, no trace of jealousy in his voice. If Starsky had harbored any plans to cheat, he'd had ample opportunities to do it before this. "God that feels good." "Just call me 'magic fingers'," Hutch quipped, continuing his work. "Among other things." Starsky smiled and imagined the one that probably graced Hutch's features. "I like Blair. He's smart, he's got guts...and he cares about people. That's a good combination. He would have made a good cop." "He'd never harden up enough," Hutch said simply. "He's a scholar...a teacher. He doesn't have the mean streak you need to survive a long stint on the streets. I'm not saying that's a bad thing." "I met his mother." "When?" "Long time ago. Late 60's. We were both at a music festival." Starsky laughed a little. "I only knew her name as 'Sunflower'. I just happened to think that I forgot to ask Blair what it really was." "Another notch on the Starsky belt, huh?" Hutch teased, reaching around the front of his lover to start unbuttoning his shirt. "Something like that. It wasn't anything more than a one-night stand. At least not to her. I liked her. But we got separated in a crowd, and she disappeared. I couldn't find her, and she obviously didn't want to find me, so that was that." "What's she doing now?" Hutch asked, pulling the opened shirt out of Starsky's jeans and off his shoulders. "He didn't say. I guess she never married. Still a free spirit," Starsky replied, leaning back against his partner, closing his eyes and smiling as Hutch's hands slid down from his shoulders and rubbed over his nipples. "No wonder the kid latched onto you. He's probably a little lacking in the father figure category." "Probably. Oh, yeah," Starsky sighed, feeling his nipples rising to hard pebbles. Remembering that he had plans of his own for his partner, he stood and turned around to face Hutch. "I'm drivin' tonight, babe," he announced, pulling his partner into a tight embrace, claiming his mouth thoroughly. Hutch gave him a yank that sent them both sprawling back on the bed. "Oh yeah?" he challenged. "So that's how you wanna play it, eh, blondie?" Starsky got a hold of his partner's wrists and pinned them to the mattress. "I suppose you think you can get our clothes off and keep my wrists down at the same time, mushbrain?" Hutch chortled a little. "Go for it. I've been dying to see you unzip your fly with your toes. Of course, you'd have to get your shoes off first." "God, why did I ever hook up with you? What a smart ass." "It was my phenomenal sexual stamina." "It sure as hell wasn't your spirit of cooperation." "Hey, if you let go of my arms, I promise not to make a run for it." "Yeah? Well, you wouldn't get far." Starsky released the hostage arms and sat back so he was straddling his lover's body. "Can you seriously tell me you don't want me to use my hands while we make love?" Hutch asked, running the newly freed hands up the insides of Starsky's thighs. "I got some plans for your mouth, too," Starsky replied, opening Hutch's shirt and diving down to torture a nipple to hardness. He licked his way to its mate, sliding along the satiny skin. Hutch was as hairless here as Starsky was hairy. //Yin and yang,// Starsky thought, remembering how Hutch had described them the first time they tried a 69 together. Hutch, the long, smooth blond and Starsky, the slightly smaller but powerfully built, hairy brunet. The two men wrestled playfully, finally disposing of the last of their clothing, hands and mouths in constant motion. Hutch slid into position and Starsky moved up so his hardening cock was in reach of his lover's mouth. In one fluid movement, Hutch swallowed him whole. Hands dropping on the headboard for support, Starsky tried to control his instinctive thrusts, grunting in pleasure at the amazing sensations ripping through his cock and spreading throughout his body. Hutch's long fingers gripped Starsky's ass, kneading the firm globes and letting his fingers wander to the valley between them. Starsky slowly withdrew from the hot, wet ecstasy of Hutch's mouth. "Want to finish in you, babe," he grunted, moving so Hutch could roll over on his stomach. He grabbed the lube while Hutch raised up on his hands and knees. After years of lovemaking, prolonged preparations weren't really necessary anymore. Still, neither of them liked giving up the intimacy of lubricating and stretching his lover. Starsky spread a layer of the gel on his straining shaft and positioned himself at Hutch's center, sliding inside in one long, steady stroke. Hutch grunted a little and both men paused while the muscles in the snug passage adjusted to the expansion. Then Starsky began moving, and Hutch began thrusting back to meet him. The pace grew steadily until the rapid strokes vibrated the bed. Hutch grabbed onto the very useful headboard and began moaning with every stroke. Reaching under his partner to pump his engorged cock, Starsky angled his strokes to hit Hutch's prostate. The shout from the blond brought a pleased smile to Starsky's face, which soon faded as the intensity of his own desire overtook him. "Yeah, babe, like that...fuck me...hard..." Hutch's strained words were almost enough to make Starsky come even without the phenomenal feeling of those clenching internal muscles squeezing his pumping cock. Hutch reached his climax first, and the internal spasms dragged a howl of pleasure from Starsky, who drove in hard in a few final strokes, shooting his completion into his lover's body and slumping with Hutch on the bed in a heap of sweaty flesh. "Told ya I was gonna drive," Starsky whispered in Hutch's ear, smiling and seeing the creasing near Hutch's eye that told him his partner was grinning too. "Only because I let you win," Hutch countered in a drowsy voice. "Love you, babe," Starsky said softly, carefully withdrawing from Hutch's body. They shifted onto their sides to face each other. "Love you too, love." Hutch smiled again and brushed a stray curl away from Starsky's forehead, then let his hand get tangled in thick hair. It had barely changed at all in eighteen years...it was just a little longer now, and Starsky wasn't working as hard to tame it as he had in the past. "You want to tell me what's bothering you now?" Hutch asked. "After what we just did? Absolutely nothin'," Starsky replied, kissing Hutch's lips and rubbing noses with him. "You've got something on your mind." "Yeah, and maybe fifteen years ago, I coulda done more than think about it, but I'm wiped out for tonight." "I'm serious, babe. What's eating you?" "Besides the fact we just totaled another hotel bedspread?" Hutch raised up a little to survey the damage, then shrugged. "Besides that," he persisted. "I'm worried about Sandburg." "Any special reason?" "Something seemed really wrong with him today." Starsky sighed. "He and Jim haven't done it yet. At least, as of yesterday, they hadn't." "He told you that?" Hutch frowned, a little shocked that Sandburg had confided so much in Starsky. "He's nervous about the relationship. He's never been with a guy that way before. You remember all the shit we went through." "Yeah, only too well." Hutch let out a long breath. "You think something happened last night?" "I don't know. I just hope he isn't...hurt or anything." "He seemed to be moving around okay. We walked around like we'd been horseback riding for a week." Hutch laughed a little, and Starsky joined him. "I remember...the first time wasn't too easy." "Not really, no." Hutch relaxed and let his eyes drift shut, happy he only had to anticipate a very mild tenderness from their wild encounter, unlike the aches and pains the early days had caused. "I don't even know the kid very well, but I care what happens to him." Starsky shook his head slightly. "Maybe it's because of Sunflower." "Did you love her?" "At the time, I think I was starting to. She was pretty, smart, loving, sexy as hell...and she had a laugh like music." Starsky smiled at the memory. "She was like the ideal vision of a flower child. I was pretty gone on her. I guess the feeling wasn't mutual though, because she never looked me up, and I was at my campsite another full day and night after she disappeared in the crowd. I helped a security guy break up a fight, and when I turned back to look for her, she was gone. I think she freaked when she saw me help a cop." "Didn't you tell her you were in the academy?" "I started to, but she told me that whoever I was on the outside, I could leave behind. That I was someone else, I was in touch with my real self and free to experience a new consciousness while I was there. Or something like that. So I was Davey and she was Sunflower and that was it. Tracking her down later was impossible with nothing more to go on than that, and I kind of figured she didn't want to be tracked. Maybe seeing me do my bit with the security guard to break up the fight drove home to her what I was. I was part of the establishment she was fighting." "So maybe you're transferring a little of how you felt about his mother onto Blair?" "Well, yeah, I guess. Not the romantic part. I got that covered already," Starsky added, grinning and taking time out to share a few slow, lazy kisses with his partner. "But maybe just some of the old leftover feelings, whatever they really are now. Maybe I just see some of her in him." "Whatever the reason, I don't think you have to worry. Ellison seems pretty protective. I don't think he'll be rough on the kid." Hutch shook his head. "He is kind of a strange one, though." "Ellison?" "Yeah. When we went to look through that crack house, I felt like I was taking one of the tracking dogs from Narcotics." Hutch snorted a little laugh. "I've never seen anybody go over a crime scene that way. I thought I was going to show *him* something about being thorough." "Gave you a run for your money, eh, blondie?" "That's not exactly what I mean. He was...well, strange. We found a cigarette butt the forensics people missed because he *smelled* it. He kept saying he smelled stale cigarette smoke, and then there it was." "Must have a sensitive sniffer." Starsky began to find Hutch's neck very interesting as he kissed and nibbled his way along the blond's jawline, moving downward on the long throat. "My sniffer tells me it's time to hit the showers." "I thought you'd never ask," Starsky retorted, flexing his eyebrows. ******** Jim looked over at Blair, and sighed with frustration. The other man was wrapped up in his favorite plaid robe, stocking feet tucked under him on the other couch, watching television. Or rather, staring at it. //You'd think I'd raped him last night the way he's hiding on the other side of the room from me.// Jim took another handful of popcorn and shoveled it into his mouth. This evening was worse than a bore and a disaster; it was destructive. The strain would just keep building between them until the cord holding them together snapped. Sick of the silence from Blair, Jim snapped off the TV and set the remote next to him. It seemed to take Blair a moment to even notice the screen was dark. He looked at Jim with confusion plain on his face. Confusion and a bit of panic. "I think we need to talk about last night." Jim couldn't believe he had to prod Blair to talk. It was such a reversal of roles that Jim felt himself tumbling into the Twilight Zone at warp speed. "What's to talk about? I couldn't do it." "You're insisting on making this your fault. It isn't." Jim exhaled loudly. "It's probably mine. I wanted sex last night. I didn't particularly want to 'make love'. I was horny and overheated. I should have never just started poking at you that way. Mr. Dildo Expert here should have practice what he preached." "I don't want something hard and artificial stuck up my ass, Jim." "I have one that's smaller than I am. It might help you...get used to it." "I don't want to get used to it, okay?! It hurt and I don't want to do it again! Happy now?" Blair turned his face away again, and his breathing held the threat of tears. "I don't know what to do, man. I *hated* it." "When did you start hating it, sweetheart?" Jim asked gently, moving over to sit near Blair. "Please relax, Chief. I'm not going to jump your bones because I sit by you." "I'm sorry," Blair responded through tears. "I just...it hurt when you tried to penetrate me." "My fingers were okay?" "Yeah." Blair nodded. "Baby, three fingers actively stretching you weren't really much smaller than my cock. I worked at stretching you. I think you were just scared. That's natural." Jim caressed Blair's hair. "I don't want to try it again. Maybe we oughtta just admit this isn't working." "Tell me what's not working, sweetheart. Is it just the sex?" "*Just* the sex? Jim, that's the only difference between us now, and us *before*." "That's not entirely true, Chief. We had a good time last night before...we hit a rough spot. We wouldn't have had any kind of sex together before, and we sure weren't making any pledges of eternal love before. That's a lot more than just one sex act." "So you're going to live without penetrating your partner for the rest of your life?" Blair shook his head. "That's crazy." Blair stood up and walked over to the windows. "I...I guess I just needed someone to be close to after the kidnapping...I was scared. And you were so good to me. Can't we just leave it at that?" Jim sat on the couch, unable to move, everything in his chest constricting into a knot until he wasn't sure if it was the physical sensation of his heart breaking or the beginnings of a heart attack. He'd heard of men younger than himself keeling over, and losing Blair would be enough to do it to him. If Blair had plunged their largest carving knife into his chest up to the handle, it couldn't have hurt more than this moment did. When the silence became deafening, Blair turned away from the window. He had never seen Jim look quite the way he did at that moment. His skin was snow white, his eyes glassy, his breathing almost...suspended. It wasn't exactly a zone out...it was worse somehow, if that was possible. "Jim?" Blair moved to the couch and sat facing his stone-faced partner. "Jim, come on, man, snap out of it!" He patted a cheek that was cool to the touch. "Jim, please, follow my voice. Concentrate on my voice and come back," Blair repeated, trying to stay calm. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as Jim blinked a time or two and stared at him. "Did I zone out on you?" he asked, his voice a bit rough. "Yeah, big time. I don't think you were even breathing, man. Do you feel okay?" "Not really. Look, I think I'm going to go up and turn in. You can...join me if you want or if you want to sleep down here... I won't bother you." Jim pushed himself up off the couch and headed for the bathroom, his steps looking more weary that Blair ever recalled. "Jim." The other man didn't answer, but he stopped, keeping his back to Blair. "I...I'm sorry about what I said...about just needing someone after the kidnapping." "You shouldn't apologize for telling the truth. If that's how you feel, it's better to be honest about it," Jim managed, angry that his voice came out so strained and shaky. "But that *isn't* how I feel. Dammit, Jim, I don't know how I feel. I know I love you. I know I want us to be more than friends. I know what happened between us before everything went to hell last night felt great. I just don't know how realistic it is for us to keep trying to do this when I can't stand the thought of trying...of, you know, trying it again." "Blair, I would gladly die before I'd hurt you, I think you know that." Jim finally turned around, but stayed out near the kitchen. "I will never touch you that way unless I get a green light from you. I don't want you lying in bed afraid that I'm going to start poking around in a way that hurts you or makes you uncomfortable." Jim ran his hand back over his hair. "I don't want to lose you, or what's between us now." "Neither do I." "What if I go first?" Jim offered. "It's not written anywhere that it *has* to be you." "I won't do to you something I can't endure. If it's too painful for me, I couldn't bring myself to do it to you." Blair looked down and sighed. "I have to get past this. And the thing is, I don't even really know why it's such a...a *thing* with me. Your fingers were fine, and I was getting into it. But when I knew it was coming, and you got started, I just...couldn't deal with it, and when I got scared, it hurt really badly, and I couldn't relax..." Blair shrugged. "I don't know how to change that." "Maybe time'll change it. Just being together a while, moving slowly in bed...maybe that'll help." "I still want to sleep with you, if that's okay. And I...I want us to be able to make love. I just...can't deal with...'the big one' yet." "Then we won't deal with it for now." Jim moved over to where Blair sat. "I'm still going to take a leak and crash." He kissed the top of Blair's head. "Come up when you're ready, huh?" "I won't be far behind you," Blair replied, grinning. "Jim--I love you. I really do." "I know you do. I love you too, sweetheart. We'll work things out. Don't worry, huh?" He patted Blair's face lightly and headed for the bathroom. ******** Starsky came out of the restaurant with a large bag and a carrier bearing two coffees. Hutch leaned over and opened the driver's door of the unmarked Cascade PD sedan they were using. "So what do you want to do this mornin'?" Starsky asked, settling in the seat and entrusting the coffee to Hutch to put in the beverage holders in the car. He began digging in the bag. "What do you do for excitement on a Thursday morning in Cascade, I wonder?" Hutch accepted the breakfast sandwich, having adopted a few of his partner's unhealthy eating habits over the years. There was something much more appealing about a hot English muffin with egg, cheese and sausage on it that there was about a tub of clammy yogurt. "Well," Starsky sighed and looked around them, "there's the Fountain Centre Mall," he nodded toward the sprawling structure across the street. "We don't have enough malls in L.A." Hutch continued eating. "Do they have anything cultural around here?" "There's a maritime museum. Remember at dinner, Blair mentioned that Lash character, and Ellison said something about chasing the look alike around a maritime museum?" "I guess that would be good to kill a couple hours." "I, uh, thought maybe we could stop by the University and see how Blair's doing later. He's supposed to go back to his office this morning." "Ellison's with him, isn't he?" "Probably." Starsky picked at his sandwich, then stared out the windshield. "Hutch...you don't think maybe..." Starsky's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Nah. That's a long shot." "What?" "Well, I was thinkin'. Blair's 29, so he musta been born in '69. I met his mom in the fall of '68...and we had one night together..." Starsky was quiet a moment, then he laughed a little. "Like I said, a real long shot." "It only takes one time to do the deed, Starsk. It's possible. But what about the man he knew as his father?" Hutch had been through the same thought process in his mind as soon as he learned about the connection between Starsky and Sandburg's mother. His partner and the long-haired police observer had taken to each other like...well, long lost relatives. And Sandburg had those deep blue eyes, all those curls, that zest for life... Not unlike someone else Hutch knew only too well. "He never mentioned a father. Not even as someone he visited once in a while or ever even knew. I guess it's possible that his dad didn't want anything to do with his mother once she got pregnant. Maybe he didn't know him." "Is this wishful thinking or a hunch, babe?" Hutch asked gently. "Both," Starsky admitted, taking a drink of his coffee. "There's a part of me that...sometimes...I think about having a son...what it would've been like. I mean, there's no way I'd change a second of the last 20 years--even getting shot by Gunther's goons--that brought us together. I just wonder sometimes." "You don't have to explain. I wonder too. And I feel the same way." "It's just...if I had a son, I would like to think he'd be like Blair--smart, capable...and with a good heart." "Maybe you should talk to him about it." "Maybe I just need to find out about his father." "Or you need to get his mother's name and get a hold of her. There's not much point in rattling Sandburg's cage for nothing right now. He's got enough going on." "You're right." "You want to go see him." "I know they got his office cleaned up, and he was going back in there, and I thought maybe he could use some moral support." "You probably better find out about this situation pretty soon, Starsk. You're starting to piss off Ellison the way you're hanging around Blair all the time." "His student assistant was murdered and another mutilated body was left in his office. This is going to be one hell of a hard morning for him." Starsky shook his head. "I know it shouldn't matter, but it does." "Sounds like a 'dad' instinct to me," Hutch responded, taking another bite of his food. "Let's take run over there and see if you can discreetly get his mother's name. We'll spend the rest of the morning hunting her down so we can get to the bottom of this." ******** "You're sure you'll be okay here?" Jim asked, hovering by the door of Blair's office. Everything was immaculate. As soon as they had been given the all-clear by the police, the University's custodial staff had scoured every trace of the dead man's presence, and a new chair sat in front of Blair's desk, replacing the other one which had been hopelessly blood-soaked. Thankfully, Blair hadn't seen the crime scene at all. "I have to be. I've got stuff to do, and I have to come in here and do it now or I'll feel crawly about it forever." "Okay. I'm going to have the cell phone. Call me if you need anything, baby." Jim crossed the room one more time and kissed Blair's mouth quickly. "I love you." "I love you too," he responded, grinning. "You free tonight?" Jim asked. "Uh...yeah... Why?" "I was thinking expensive dinner, movie...maybe a little something special after the movie." "Like what?" Blair narrowed his eyes. "Like something I can get set up if I have a 'yes'." "Sounds great, but what's the something special?" "That's for me to know and you to find out, Chief." Jim hesitated by the door. "I still don't like leaving you here all day." "Jim, this is what I do. I'm fine. I have a ton of stuff to do to catch up, and I can't put it off any longer." "Okay. I'll pick you up around six, and we can go home and change, and then head out for the evening, huh?" "Yeah. Sounds great." Blair smiled, then became serious. "Jim, are you sure you're okay? I mean, last night, you didn't look so hot." "I feel fine now," he replied honestly, flashing Blair one of those perfect smiles that always melted the other man where he stood. ******** Blair had to admit that spending a lot of time alone in his office wasn't what he would have picked out, but it had to be done. Getting past the fact that the last person to occupy his office had been a mutilated dead man was paramount to his ability to keep working in the room at all. He busied himself calling Jennifer's mother and expressing his condolences. He also found the woman was pleased to talk with him as he was able to explain to her a few of the official hold-ups that were delaying the release of her daughter's body. All in all, it was a grim conversation, but he at least felt he had helped Jennifer's family in some small way. After hanging up, he picked up the stack of papers from his students that had been turned in to the substitute in his absence. Forcing himself to concentrate, he started plowing through them. "Mornin', professor," Starsky greeted from where he stood in the doorway. "Hey, Starsky. What brings you over here? Something about the case?" "I was just curious to see your office--well, under the right circumstances." He walked the rest of the way in the room, and Blair moved to clear off the other chair near the desk. "It's a little messy. I'm like, *way* behind right now." "I can leave if you're busy." "No!" Blair hastened to correct the wrong impression. "I'm glad for the company. I chased Jim out of here earlier, and it's getting a little...depressing." He sighed. "I talked with Jennifer's mom. That was rough." "I can imagine. Talking to the parents is probably the hardest thing to do in a murder case." Starsky was delighted with the easy shift into the parent discussion. "Which reminds me, I never asked you what your mom's name was. I can't believe she wandered around as 'Sunflower' all the time." "No," Blair responded, laughing. "Even *I* never heard that one. Her name's Naomi. I've got a more recent photo of her right over here." He reached across the cluttered desk and brought a framed 5x7 into Starsky's view, handing it to the older man. "Naomi. She's still beautiful," he commented, smiling. "I think so," Blair said honestly. "She's always been pretty." "You look like her." "Maybe a little." "Do you take more after your dad?" //Time to move in for the kill, Starsky,// he thought to himself. "I don't know about that," Blair replied quietly. There was a slight hint of a flush that crept into his cheeks. "I, uh, never met him." "Oh. Well, that's not too unusual, if your mom was a single parent. A lot of unmarried dads don't hang around and do right by their kids." "I wonder sometimes, though...what he was like. I would've just liked to have seen him someday. I wouldn't bother him or anything. I mean, I'd understand completely if he didn't want to hear from me." "It'd be his loss." "Thanks." Blair smiled and accepted the photo back from Starsky, replacing it on the desk. "What did your mom tell you about him? Anything?" "Uh...not really." Blair seemed uneasy now, and while Starsky wanted the information, he hated himself for pinning Blair down on something that was obviously not an easy subject for him. "She, uh, well, you know how the whole hippie culture was then. She...wasn't, uh, 100% sure...who..." "I see. Yeah, after spending some time at that music festival, I can see how that could happen real easily. It was a whole mindset--the whole free love thing." Starsky leaned back in his chair. "I didn't spend much time around hippies, to be honest, but I did go to a few concerts and hang around on the beach once in a while, so I have a pretty good idea what the culture was." "Usually I tell people that, and I know they're thinking my mom's some kind of...well, they're thinking something that isn't very positive, anyway. Jim was great about it--he gets along great with Naomi, and he never said anything really negative about the whole thing. Not that anyone should. She was just living according to the principles of her generation." "You can't always judge somebody else based on a few old stereotypes. At least you shouldn't." Starsky looked around. "So tell me about your classes this semester. What exactly do you teach?" ******** Hutch flipped through the pages of "American School & University", wondering how much longer Starsky was going to bond with Sandburg. If they were going to run a check on the kid's mother, and still be at the PD by one o'clock to meet with Ellison and Banks about the case, they needed to get a move on. He was about to dispense with the first magazine and move on to something equally titillating, like a month-old issue of "The Chronicle of Higher Education", when he picked up on his partner's voice, animated and tinged with a little laughter, alternating with Sandburg's voice as the two men walked down the hall together. Blair was all gestures and expressions as they came into Hutch's range of view, enthusiastically describing something with an energy Hutch only saw mirrored in his own life partner when he was excited about something. "Hey, blondie, Blair wants to show us around over at the Fine Arts Building. He set up an exhibit of Mayan art over there a couple months ago that's still being shown," Starsky explained. "Sounds great." Hutch rose from the chair he'd been occupying and fell into step with the other two men. As the wind picked up, colored leaves swirled down from the many trees surrounding the walkway they were following to the building that housed the Art and Music departments. Their ears picked up the sounds of diligent piano practicing as they moved through the double doors into the main hallway of the building. A couple of students carrying hefty instrument cases passed them in the hall, chattering away about the upcoming band practice. Blair led the way to the art gallery, and they moved through the aisles of displayed paintings and sculptures to a small area that contained various pieces of pottery and a few wall hangings. Blair went into great detail with each one, describing how it had been acquired, happy to discuss his role in the project at length. Hair pulled back in a pony tail, glasses in place, Blair even took on the tone of a professor as he educated the two detectives on the pieces they were viewing. "I guess that's about it," Blair concluded, after explaining the history of the final vase. "Thanks for the guided tour," Hutch spoke up. "I think we better get going, Starsk." "Yeah, you're right," Starsky agreed, checking his watch. "Are you going to be at the station later?" he asked Blair. "No. I'm going to catch up here today. I'll probably be seeing you tomorrow." "Probably," Hutch agreed as they started back outside. After saying their goodbyes, Blair hurried up the walk back to his building. "Naomi Sandburg. And she still lives in L.A.," Starsky said, smiling slightly. "I think I'm going to have a little chat with Naomi." "Think we should have some urgent business back home?" Hutch asked, knowing how anxious his partner was to get to the bottom of this question as soon as possible. "The case isn't exactly moving at rapid fire pace. We really aren't *needed* here that badly anymore. I think we should make a quick trip back home so I can pay Naomi a visit. I don't think I should handle this on the phone." ******** Blair spent most of the day sifting through backed up papers to grade, returning phone calls and generally immersing himself in his professional life again. Back at the U, doing what he did best, it seemed that Slater finally wasn't controlling his life anymore. There was a prevailing melancholy feeling about the day as he moved through it without seeing Jennifer burst through the door of his office, prattling on about her last class or informing him on the latest news from the student grapevine. Jenny was bright and talented, and a good student. She wasn't, however, grad school-bound, nor was she particularly academic by nature. Her interests were mostly those of the average 21-year-old. Nonetheless, she was reliable, took her job seriously, and kept Blair's office neat and organized despite its sloppy occupant who had the tendency to stack his materials wherever he found a blank space. Blair had seen Jenny through two major boyfriend crises and her first mammoth hangover in the two years she'd worked for him. He still had to smile at the memory of her staggering into the office like a zombie that morning and cringing at every sound. On the flipside, Jenny had been there for Blair through a number of rough spots. She had been a wonderful listener as he'd poured out his reminiscences about Professor Buckner after his death, and knowing how much Emily Watson's death had shaken him up, Jenny had rescheduled vacation plans to stay around and work with Blair for a couple weeks after it happened. It wasn't until now, when she was dead and gone, that Blair really made the connection of why she'd changed her time off. He'd been too preoccupied at the time to figure it out, and that was just the way Jenny was...supportive, but not showy about it. He let out a long, shaky sigh, and took an envelope out of the top middle drawer of his desk. Inside were photos taken at a birthday party Jenny had surprised him with a year earlier, having spread the word among the faculty and staff in the nearby buildings that it was Blair's birthday and that cake, ice cream and other treats could be had in his office. He smiled and felt a couple of tears trickle down his cheeks as he sorted through the pictures. One of them made him pause as he noticed he was standing with Emily Watson and a couple of other grad students, and the esteemed Professor Watson had her two fingers up behind Blair's head making rabbit ears for the camera. "Dammit," Blair swore quietly, tossing the photos on the desk. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his afternoon grieving for lost friends and colleagues. But Jenny was his right hand person, his sidekick, his assistant--in a purely platonic sense, she was all the things to him that Blair was to Jim. She was his professional support system. She knew all about his projects, and when something wasn't going right, he could talk to her and not explain all the background. She knew. She had either typed the paper in question, hauled his research materials back and forth, gathered telephone survey data for him--she had a thank you in the acknowledgments of three of his most important published articles. Blair sighed and gathered up the photos again, tucking them in their envelope and back in the drawer, trying not to remember that Jenny had even taken care of getting the film developed and had brought him the pictures as part of his birthday present. Trying to shake off the depressing thoughts, he checked his watch. It was 5:45, almost time for Jim to pick him up. He sniffled a time or two and swiped at his eyes, determined not to make their first official evening out as lovers a miserable, depressing experience. But part of him couldn't help thinking that he'd already made their whole relationship a miserable, difficult experience for Jim. And whatever had swept over Jim in the moment in which Blair tried to swerve the relationship off its current course chilled Blair to the bone. Jim looked positively horrible, white, and still--as if he were one of the living dead. //Actually, more like one of the *dead dead*,// Blair thought, shuddering. //Living dead implies a sign of life. He wasn't even *breathing*.// Feeling the weight of the world firmly planted on both shoulders, Blair got up and grabbed his coat. Turning out his office light and closing the door, he pulled on his coat and trudged down the hall toward the stairs, trying not to re-run in his mind all the horrendous activity this building had seen in the last 48 hours. He idly wondered when Jenny's body would be released for burial as he made his way across the dusky campus, pulling his coat tightly around himself. He noticed then that he'd left his backpack at the office, and honestly didn't care. All he wanted to do now was crawl into Jim's arms and pretend none of it existed. ******** Jim pulled up to the curb and watched the path for Blair's arrival. It wasn't long before the solitary figure came into view, coat clutched tightly around himself as if it were sub-zero outdoors instead of just brisk. The backpack wasn't clutched in either of the hands, one of which was buried in a pocket, the other keeping the coat close around his lover's body. Blair opened the door and got in the truck, longing to slide over and lean on his partner, but not sure how the other man would react in the semi-public setting, with a few students visible as they made their way to evening classes. "Everything okay, Chief?" Jim asked gently, knowing very well nothing was okay. Blair's eyes were puffy and slightly bloodshot, his breathing patterns indicated tension and...angst of some sort, and the very fact his precious backpack of paperwork had been left behind spoke volumes. "Just a long day," Blair managed. "I know, baby. I can tell," he responded softly, reaching over to smooth back a stray curl that had escaped Blair's pony tail. "You want to stop and get some take outs and go home?" "We had a date," Blair replied, taking a deep but shaky breath. "We live together, sweetheart. Technically, we have sort of one big, long, running date. This is a change of plans. No big deal." "It sounded like such a nice evening. You had special plans and everything." "Plans can be changed. How about Saturday night? I mean, what kind of a date night is *Thursday* anyway?" "You sure you don't mind? God, I keep screwing up every time you try to do something for *us*." "You didn't screw anything up, sweetheart." Jim reached over again and stroked Blair's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "My timing for everything I've done has basically sucked. It's not you're fault your not feeling 100% okay about things." "What'd I do to deserve you, huh?" Blair asked, smiling a little and catching Jim's hand in his. "I don't know, Chief, but I hope you enjoyed it, because you're going to pay for it by being stuck with me until I croak." "Promise?" Blair kissed the back of Jim's hand. "Promise," he answered, smiling and reversing the angle of their hands so he could mirror Blair's gesture. "Let's go home and relax, huh?" "I'm sorry about tonight." "I'm not. I'm looking forward to tonight. Just you and me and a big bag food and the remote control." Jim smiled, and Blair laughed a little, still holding onto his lover's hand. "Sounds like heaven." ******** "That's it," Starsky announced, pulling his bright red Firebird up to the curb, across the street from a modest but attractive white stucco house with arched windows and a small fountain in the front yard. "So you think Harold's home?" Hutch asked, referring to the name of the property owner they'd found on the county clerk's records for the address associated with Naomi Sandburg. "She just filed a change of address last month, so let's hope she's still here." "You want company, or you want to do this solo?" Hutch asked. "Solo. I think she's more likely to talk to me one on one." "I think you're right. I'll wait for you out here. Take your time." "Thanks." Starsky stared at the house a moment. "Maybe she's not even home." "Do you want her to be home?" Hutch asked, drawing a little chuckle out of Starsky. "Yes and no. I guess it's been a nice fantasy." "Maybe you'll get the answer you want." "Yeah. Maybe. Wish me luck." "Good luck, babe." Hutch reached over and squeezed Starsky's shoulder. The other man smiled and patted the squeezing hand, then got out and headed for the front door of the house. He rang the bell and waited, then tapped on the wood firmly. "Who is it?" a female voice inquired. "Police, ma'am," he responded. It was true--he was a cop, but there was nothing official about his visit. He held up his ID for her to look at through the peephole. The lock clicked and the door opened. Naomi, his "Sunflower", stood before him in the doorway, dressed in what looked like a soft blue leotard under a pair of form-fitting jeans. Her short hair was a contrast from the long tresses he remembered, but her eyes still danced the way they had thirty years earlier. "Yes, officer?" "N-Naomi Sandburg?" he managed past the sudden dryness in his throat. It troubled him that no flicker of recognition crossed her pretty features. "Yes." "I...I'm David Starsky." He watched her pleasant but blank expression. "Do I know you?" she asked, smiling slightly. "You did. A long time ago. Remember the music festival in 1968?" "I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, Mr. Starsky," she replied, laughing a little. "I attended a lot of outdoor concerts and music festivals thirty years ago. I thought you were with the police." "I am. I'm a detective with the Bay City PD. I...we met at a music festival, and I was in the academy, and we spent some time together," he managed, somewhat clumsily. "You called yourself 'Sunflower'." "What is this about?" she asked, her eyes narrowing a bit. "I've met your son, Blair. That's why I'm here." "Is he all right?" she asked immediately. "He's fine," Starsky replied, not sure how much she knew of Blair's recent ordeal. "But when I had dinner with Jim and Blair, I saw a photo of you he had, and I recognized you." "What does your coming here have to do with Blair?" "Possibly everything." Starsky sighed. "Could I step in for a minute? I feel a little strange talking about this on the porch." "I think you should get to the point," she stated firmly. "We spent the night together at that festival, and I lost you in the crowd the next day. I was helping a security guard break up a fight, and when I turned back to find you, you were gone." He watched as recognition dawned on her features. "Please, come in," she invited, stepping aside and closing the door behind him. The inside of the house was pleasant, decorated in various shades of beige and white. Some soft New Age music played on a CD player, and candles flickered on a low table in the middle of the room. "I was meditating," she explained, picking up a remote control and turning off the music. "You remember me now?" "Davey. I remember, yes," she said, nodding. "You were going to be a cop. When I saw you in action, it just reminded me what a mistake I would be making by spending any more time with you. I don't mean to be rude, but I have never felt any great affection for the police." "So you wrote me off because I broke up a fight? Those two jerks could've killed each other, and the security guy who was handling it couldn't settle them down." "You still haven't explained what this has to do with Blair. I understand that you've met him now, but that still--" "We spent the night together in 1968. Blair was born nine months later. I think that's significant." "I suppose you think he's automatically yours then?" "How many men did you sleep with at that festival?" He demanded. He was stunned by the quick slap in the face that earned him. "Get out," she said evenly. "Not until you answer me." He stood his ground, staring at her with slightly wounded eyes. "Is he my son?" He watched as she turned away and started pacing. "I don't know." "Who are the other possibilities? Are they strong ones? Come on, give me something to work with here." "Why does it matter now?" she asked. "Because nothing would make me happier than to find out he was my son." That made Naomi's head snap up, and she looked Starsky in the eyes. "Why?" "Because he's everything I would have wanted my son to be. Because I won't ever have another child. Because if he's mine, he's family, and that's important to me. Because I already consider him a friend whether he's my child or not." Starsky swallowed, realizing how much her cooperation meant to him. Her expression softened slightly, and she turned away a moment, taking a deep breath. "I suppose you think it's horrible that I don't have an answer for you." "No, I'm not judging you. Not at all. I can't lie and say that I don't wish things had turned out differently. I really cared about you, Sun--" he snickered at his own slip of the tongue, "*Naomi*," he corrected. "I never made love with a woman who didn't matter to me. I thought we had something special started." "I did too. But I watched you click into your cop routine, and I knew we'd never make it." She turned back to face him. "Why don't we sit down?" She gestured toward the puffy ecru sofa. When they were both seated, she continued. "Davey, I spent my life protesting, demonstrating, trying to change things for the better. All I ever saw the cops doing was clubbing my friends with night sticks. When I realized what it meant, that you were going to be one of them...I fled. I ran away from you. Do you seriously picture me as a cop's wife?" she asked with a grin. "It *is* a stretch," Starsky admitted, smiling back. "That weekend, I traveled to and from the festival with a good-sized group of people--men and women. I was involved with one of the guys, and we...were together the night before I met you. He wasn't really a forever love. Just a friend." "So it's him or me?" Starsky asked, relieved to have narrowed the field. "I wish it were that simple." She shifted her position on the couch so she could look out the picture window behind where they sat. "We were traveling in a camper--there were three women and four men. I'm probably not shocking you when I tell you we weren't feeling any pain," she said with a somewhat regretful smile. "I think that was pretty common then." "Well, I don't remember everything very clearly, but..." She took a deep breath and turned to have eye contact with Starsky again. "While I was riding home in the camper, one of the others...he was someone I had talked to, but never really liked *that way*..." She rolled her eyes and smiled again. "I didn't expect this to be so difficult all these years later." "Take your time," he said gently, venturing to cover her hand where it rested near his on the back of the couch. Her smile broadened briefly in reply. "I don't remember the details. I was high. But I know that I said no, and he didn't listen. That part is very clear." "He raped you?" "I don't know if you could call it that. I was too languid to really fight or argue all that much. I know I didn't want him, but he kept after me. I know we had sex. I won't call it making love. I didn't love him, he didn't love me, and there was nothing meaningful about it." "Your boyfriend let this go on?" "My 'boyfriend' was just a male friend I...was intimate with sometimes. And he was passed out in the passenger seat of the camper at the time. I don't know as he ever knew anything happened between J.T. and me." "You think this J.T. character is a contender too?" "It's possible." She shook her head. "I didn't want to know who Blair's father was. One of them was a doped up rapist, one was just a casual friend I lost touch with before Blair was born, and the third..." She looked at Starsky again, then moved her hand so she could squeeze his. "One of them might have been the right one if we'd just been different people at the time." "If we were different people...?" "If I hadn't believed that the police were evil incarnate and if you hadn't been passionately committed to becoming one of them." She paused. "I didn't want to judge Blair by his father. If he had been J.T.'s, I don't know if I could have loved him the way he deserved to be loved, knowing how he was conceived. If he had been Mark's--my friend's--that might have been the lesser evil because at least we parted friends. But Mark met someone and got married when Blair was just six months old. And if he'd been yours," she began, then swallowed and continued, "I'd have always looked at him and seen love that was doomed from the start." "Love?" Starsky asked, wondering if she'd really meant she loved him all those years ago. He had thought at the time that "Sunflower" loved him, but what was love to a hippie at a music festival anyway? "Yes," she confirmed. "I thought about you often after leaving you that way. I wondered where you were, what you were doing. I almost looked you up a few times. But I didn't want my son raised by a cop. I didn't want him to grow up and carry a gun and live in a world of violence and hatred and ugliness." She chuckled a little. "Of course, now he works with Jim, riding shotgun," she commented, rolling her eyes again. "Life is ironic, isn't it?" "For what it's worth, I wanted to find you again. I tried. But I couldn't get any information out of the hippie culture in LA. I had no real name to go by, no photo--just a description of a pretty, long-haired girl named 'Sunflower'." "What do you want to do about this now?" "I want to talk to Blair, and I want to have a paternity test done, if he's agreeable to it. It's too late for me to help raise him, but...I lost my own father when I was a kid, and I know that even now, I still wish he was around to talk to. Blair and I are becoming good friends. I think he might get something out of knowing who his father is, and knowing he's valued by that father." "You didn't need my permission to do that." "No, but I wanted your blessing. I also wanted to know if there was any chance of it being true. I didn't want to put Blair through the emotional paces for nothing." "I have a favor to ask of you." "What?" "Don't hurt Blair. He's never had a father, not a worthwhile one, anyway. If this comes up negative...maybe you could keep in touch with him--at least for a little while. Let him down easily." "I don't plan on letting him down at all, Naomi. I really have enjoyed Blair's company. Whether or not we share genetics, I still hope to have him as a friend for many years to come." "Then you have my blessing to go ahead with it," she said. "I just didn't want Blair to be hurt by this now, and I don't think you'll do that." "There's one other thing you ought to know about me." "What?" "I'm in a committed relationship with another man. Does that bother you?" //Wait 'til you find out what your little boy's up to if it does!// "Why should it? Besides, I know it's only a matter of time before Blair and his roommate, Jim, stop doing this elaborate mating dance they've been doing for the last few years. I don't think love needs labels." "I can see where Blair gets his tolerance and his open mind," Starsky responded, rising to stand. "I should go. My partner's waiting for me." "I'd like to meet him sometime. Maybe another time?" "I'd like that. Do you want to come back to Cascade with us to talk to Blair?" "No. I'll call him tonight and let him know we've talked, and that the two of you have something important to discuss. Otherwise, he's probably not going to listen to you--he'll want my word that I know about it and am okay with it." "Thanks, Naomi. Naomi," Starsky repeated, smiling back at her as he moved toward the door. "I think it suits you. Although, when I look in your eyes, I still see my Sunflower," he replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "No regrets?" "No regrets," she said firmly, patting his cheek before he walked out the door and she closed it behind him. ******** Jim stirred at the first ring of the phone. Blair was already in motion, moving off his lover where they had sprawled together on the couch. "Hello?" Blair stifled a chortle as Jim pulled him back down into the larger man's lap. To his credit, he never missed a beat with the phone call. "Hi, Mom... No, this is fine. Jim and I were just watching TV." "Hi, Mom," Jim called over Blair's shoulder. That earned him a flurry of shushing gestures from Blair, who, despite all his liberal attitudes, seemed little uneasy talking to his mother on the phone while sitting on his male lover's lap. "Naomi says hi back," Blair reported, then returned to his call. They exchanged a few mundane words, and then Blair fell silent for quite a while, listening intently to whatever Naomi was telling him. Jim heard snatches of it, and knew it had something to do with Starsky, but made it a point to dial down his hearing unless he was invited to do otherwise when Blair was on the phone. "Mom, come on, why the mystery? Just tell me what this is about." Blair waited through what was obviously another explanation, and then sighed. "Okay... Yeah, I promise--I'll call tomorrow night." Blair rubbed the bridge of his nose, and suddenly looked very tired. "Is everything going okay with Harry?" he inquired after Naomi's boyfriend with whom she'd been living for the last six weeks. "But not that well, huh?" he responded to something she said, laughing. "Okay. Yeah. Love you too. 'Night, Mom." He broke the connection on the cordless phone and set it aside. "Naomi's okay, I hope?" "Oh yeah, she's fine. She said Starsky came to visit her today." "I thought they flew back to Bay City on some kind of urgent business." Jim paused, frowning. "Did she say why?" "She said he was going to be talking to me about something, and that I should keep an open mind about it and hear him out. She wants me to call her back tomorrow night." Blair wriggled out of Jim's clutches, standing and then pacing around the room. "I think I know what this is gonna be." "What?" Jim asked, knowing perfectly well what scenario had popped into his mind. "Why else would he go talk to Naomi?" Blair asked, turning to have eye contact with Jim. "They knew each other before. I'd say he wanted to get to know her again, rekindle old flames--but I think he and Hutch are pretty committed to each other." "So do I." "Do you think he's the one?" Jim asked directly, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. "All these years...I've wondered so many times what he'd be like, what he'd look like...if he'd like me...if he would have wanted anything to do with me if he'd known about me..." "Is Starsky anything like what you pictured?" "He's a lot of the things I hoped for, but not much of what I pictured. He's never been a hippie in his life--" "That's a pretty safe bet," Jim replied, laughing. "He's a cop. Man, talk about a bizarre twist of fate. But we have a really good rapport, you know?" Blair shook his head. "I kept feeling like there was *something*, but I couldn't put my finger on it. There was some reason I sat down with him and spilled my guts the first day they were here. It was like I felt a familiarity and a connection. I can't explain it any better." "I picked up on something, and I knew it wasn't sexual or romantic. But it was weird how he just...took to you." "Oh, man." Blair plopped down on the couch and ran his hands back through his hair. "Wouldn't the joke be on me if he wants to talk to me about something totally different now?" Blair's laugh was shaky and nervous at best. Jim moved forward and enclosed Blair in his arms, pulling him back to rest with his head on the larger man's shoulder. "It wouldn't be any joke, sweetheart. I know how much this means to you. I hope it turns out the way you want it to." "It would be so good to know. All this time...I was afraid maybe it was something really...terrible. You know, like maybe he was a criminal or a pervert or some kind. Somebody Naomi wanted to keep me away from." "You said before you believed her when she said she didn't know." "I did...but I also knew it was possible there was some other explanation. Maybe it was worse than a mistake. Maybe it was something she really actively didn't want to happen." "Even if you were conceived under the worst possible circumstances, Chief, something wonderful came out of it." He kissed the top of Blair's head. "You know Naomi loves you." "I know. But sometimes...she was gone so much...she still is. I sometimes wondered if I reminded her of...of *whomever* it was, and it wasn't a good memory." "Let's keep good thoughts for now, huh, Chief? It looks like you've got a real positive option in the cards." "I guess...I wanted to find out all this time, and I've been so curious, and there's been this big...*void*... Now that finding out is a possibility, it scares the hell out of me." Blair sighed. "What if he thinks I'm a dork? I mean, Starsky's been really polite to me, and he's shown interest in my work at the U, but how much of that is just being polite?" "The interest is genuine, sweetheart. I couldn't discern the origins of it, but that much I'll tell you. He really is as interested in you and what you do as he seems to be." "I'm glad." Blair was quiet a while. "Ready to call it a night?" "Yeah. I have a feeling I might need my sleep for tomorrow." ******** "Penny for your thoughts, babe," Hutch said quietly as he joined his lover on the deck of their house, overlooking the beach. The moon painted the edges of the black waves in silver, and the light breeze carried the fresh smell of the ocean up to where the two men stood. Starsky accepted the beer Hutch brought out to him, and happily accepted the embrace that enclosed him from behind. "Just thinking through some 'what ifs', I guess," Starsky replied honestly. "If all this turns out to be true...if he's my son...I missed the whole thing, Hutch. His birth, his first steps, his first day of school...all his graduations..." "He doesn't have his Ph.D. yet," Hutch added. "No, you're right, he doesn't." Starsky leaned back into the solid support of his partner's body, still amazed how one of Hutch's soft-voiced observations could almost always make whatever was wrong, better. "I think that's going to be a pretty big 'dad' moment." "I want that. I don't have any claim on him or his accomplishments, even if he's mine. But I want it to be true, Hutch. I want it so damn bad." "I know, love." Hutch kissed Starsky's temple and squeezed tighter. "For what it's worth, I think he's yours." "Really?" Starsky asked, his voice rising a bit. "Really. He's a lot like you." "You think so?" "His enthusiasm, some of his interests, his energy, his dedication...yeah, he's a chip off the old block all right." "We don't know he's my chip yet, babe." "We'll find out. Meanwhile, I think we ought to get a good night's sleep. That flight leaves at dawn." "You think I should call him?" "No. It's late. Let him get some rest. After Naomi called him, I'm sure he's got a pretty good idea what's up, and he's probably trying to deal with it himself right now. Let's just start fresh tomorrow." "Hutch? About those 'what ifs' I mentioned?" "Yeah?" "None of 'em woulda been worth givin' this up, babe. I never would give up loving you for anything." He found Hutch's hand where it rested on his stomach and laced their fingers. "I don't want you to think that I ever would. You're the other half of me, blondie. I couldn't make it without you. And I don't wanna try anytime soon." "I love you too, Gordo. I just wish you hadn't had to give up some of the things you wanted for us to be together." "If Blair's my son, I'm sorry I missed his whole childhood, and all that time, those years. But I'm not sorry that my life took the turns it did so we ended up together." "You cared about his mother quite a bit, didn't you?" "Yeah, but that was another lifetime. Before I fell in love with a big blond klutz who ruined me for anybody else." "A big blond klutz?" Hutch drew back in mock anger. "Klutz? Oh, sorry. I meant 'blintz'." Starsky flashed one of his best "innocent" smiles, which was anything but. "That's so much better," Hutch grumbled, heading inside. "Come on, you old fart. You need your sleep and your Geritol." Hutch headed inside. "Old fart? You're only five months younger than me, babe. Don't forget it." "I never forget that I'm younger than you, pal. Or smarter." "Shithead," Starsky quipped, knowing he was too tired to take Hutch on, and their sparring match could go on into the night if they kept it up. "I love you too, asshole." Hutch punctuated his comment with a kiss to Starsky's mouth as he moved toward the bathroom. "We still on that water conservation kick?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Shared showers until further notice, babe," Starsky replied cheerfully, following his lover. ******** By mutual agreement, Jim went to work the next morning as usual, and Blair stayed behind at the loft. As much as he wanted Jim's moral support, he felt he should meet with Starsky one on one. After tossing and turning all night, he felt anything but rested, and guiltily realized that Jim had to be as tired as he was. The other man had tried holding him, tried talking to him, and finally just put up with his bed partner flopping around like a beached fish for several hours. Nothing helped. Blair poured himself another cup of coffee. //Good job, Sandburg. You're not wired enough. Guzzle a little more caffeine. Maybe you can impress him by your ability to literally bounce off the walls.// When there was a knock at the door, he almost tossed the cup of coffee over his shoulder. He'd been expecting the sound for so long that it scared him when he actually heard it. "Hi," he said a little stiffly as he opened the door. "Come on in," he continued, forcing a more natural smile. "Coffee?" "That'd be great." Starsky walked into the living room and sat on the end of the couch while Blair returned to the kitchen, then brought two cups of coffee in with him. "Your mom probably called you last night." "Yeah, she did. I think I know what this is about." "I figured you would. Look, Blair, I won't push this if it's something you'd rather not pursue. But I *would* like to pursue it." "Do you regret not having kids?" Blair asked, taking a drink of his coffee. "Sometimes. I don't regret it when I hold it up next to not having Hutch. I wouldn't give up our life together for anything." Starsky took a deep breath. "But I know that if I had a son, I would be enormously proud if he had turned out like you." Blair just stared at the other man for a moment, a bit awestruck. "Why?" he asked, his voice strained with disbelief. "Why?" Starsky repeated, smiling and shaking his head. "You're almost a Ph.D. You're smart, resourceful--and you care about people. Why wouldn't I be proud of that? Not that I could take any credit for it, even if it turns out to be true." "Thanks," Blair said softly. "That means a lot to me." "I want to have a paternity test done, find out for sure." "What I don't understand is how my mom remembered you so clearly, or knew you were a good possibility. I always figured she just didn't remember much about that time, or that there were a lot of possibilities." "Well, the timing would be right. Maybe I'm just the only one who popped back up again and knew about her son." "I had a lot of fantasies about meeting my dad--and a few nightmares, too. This really isn't what I expected." "So is that good or bad?" Starsky asked, smiling a little. "Both. There's this part of me that doesn't want to get this test done at all, because...because I'd really like it to be true. And if it isn't...it's going to be really hard to accept that I'm back to not knowing." "Maybe we could stay in touch either way." "I'd like that," Blair responded. "Did you...did you love her at all?" "I was starting to," Starsky answered honestly. "Blair, we *made love* that night. I didn't just have my way with a willing girl. I really cared about her. I think, if it hadn't been for our divergent lifestyles, we probably would have...well, at least tried to have something meaningful together." "I'm glad." "If you're my son, Blair, you weren't the result of a meaningless roll in the hay." Starsky paused. "So, uh, do you know anybody in the lab who could get this through fast for us?" "Jim could probably sweet-talk someone into it. One of the main women in the lab I'd talk to is one of my ex-girlfriends." "Ouch. We'll leave that part up to Jim, then," Starsky said, laughing. "What did Hutch think about all this?" "He's pulling for us." "I'm glad. So's Jim." "Well, we probably should go downtown and see what our other halves are doing there." Starsky stood, and Blair followed suit. It hit the younger man at that moment, full force, that he could be in the same room with his father, after a lifetime of uncertainty. And not just any biological father, but one who liked him as a person, and who genuinely wanted it to be true. A father for whom Blair was not a burden, a dirty secret or a terrible mistake... This was the stuff dreams were made of. "Thanks." "For what?" Starsky asked as they headed for the door. "For following up on this. For...well, for *wanting* it." "Let's just hope the test goes our way, huh?" Starsky grinned, and Blair returned it, following his possible father out the door and locking it behind them. ******** When Starsky and Blair arrived at headquarters, they found Jim working at his desk and no sign of Hutch. "Hey, Jim," Blair greeted, trying to sound casual. The whole issue of the paternity test was gnawing at him, and it was all he could do not to rush into the bullpen and blurt to Jim that he just had to pull some strings and get a DNA test done ASAP. "How's it goin', Chief?" Jim's words were neutral, and his tone controlled, but his eyes bored straight into Blair's soul, translating the greeting into a genuine inquiry about the morning's events. "Okay. Uh, Jim, we need to talk to you." "Where's Hutch?" Starsky asked, having helped himself to some coffee from a nearby coffee maker. "He went down to records to pick up a few files. He'll be back in a second. He has a theory he wants to work on." "About the other kidnappers?" "Yeah. He said something about Slater having some friends back in LA that he hung out with before he was arrested." "Maxwell and Sherman. I remember those clowns. They weren't good for much more than drinking and getting into brawls. Oh, and covering Slater's ass from time to time." Starsky took another drink of coffee. "You didn't arrest them?" Blair asked. "We dragged them in for questioning, but the DA wasn't convinced we had enough evidence to book them and make it stick. It would have only ended up with obstruction of justice. Frankly, I think 'accessory after the fact' would have been more appropriate. I'm sure Sherman knew where a few bodies were buried. Literally. The bastard probably dug the holes." "You didn't mention them before," Jim probed. "Maxwell is in prison and Sherman dropped out of sight after Slater was arrested. No one's seen any sign of him. We tried keeping tabs on them, but once Maxwell was behind bars, Sherman didn't seem to have much reason to stick around. He had a girlfriend he used to slap around all the time, but I don't think that was exactly true love, so leaving her wasn't obviously a big deal." Starsky shook his head. "We kept trying to trace their moves because we felt sure Slater was responsible for a couple more missing persons that what he was saying, and both of us figured his cohorts would lead us where we needed to go to find the other bodies. They weren't rocket scientists, either one of them, and it made sense they'd go to the burial sites to be sure things were undisturbed at some point." "Jim, uh, can I talk to you a minute. Actually, we both should," Blair interjected, unable to concentrate on case talk any longer. "Sure. Simon's at a seminar this morning. We can use his office." Jim led the way and opened the door, then closed it when all three of them were in the office. "Could you talk someone in the lab into doing a DNA test for us?" Blair asked, figuring that Jim knew enough of the background to cut to the chase. "I could talk to Dan. I think he'd be our best bet to get it done quickly, accurately and discretely." "Would you talk to him?" Blair asked. "I'll go down there now." //Like I could ever deny you anything when you turn those puppy dog eyes on me,// Jim thought, smiling at his lover. "We could go through a lab officially for this," Starsky said. "But it'll take a while to get the results." "Dan's a good guy. He'll do it, and handle it confidentially." "I don't have a problem with anyone knowing," Starsky spoke up, making Jim pause with his hand on the doorknob. "I was thinking more of Blair's privacy, or you having trouble with the brass." "I don't have problems with people knowing either," Blair replied. "As for the brass, what they don't know won't hurt 'em," Jim concluded, exiting the office and heading for Dan Wolf's lab. "Words to live by," Starsky commented, laughing a little. He was unaware that Jim heard his comment as he waited by the elevator, and shared the laugh. //Like father, like son,// Jim thought as he watched the doors close and pressed the button. Dan Wolf was as agreeable as Jim thought he would be, more than happy to help out with such an important family matter. Furthermore, he knew the waiting time and potential for error would be more of a problem if the test were done by an outside lab. This way, the test would be performed on two samples Dan would draw himself, and screen immediately. "It's all set," Jim reported to the group gathered in Simon's office, which had expanded to include Hutch. He assumed Hutch knew the score with what was going on, and he did, apparently having been filled in during Jim's absence. "When is he gonna do it?" Starsky asked. "He's finishing up a final report right now, so he said you could go down there in about fifteen minutes. He'll take blood samples and run the DNA tests. We should have the results in a couple hours after that." "Beats taking it to a private lab," Hutch commented, and Starsky nodded in agreement. "Hutch found something interesting in the mug books downstairs," Blair spoke up, wanting to pass what would be an eternal fifteen minutes by talking about something else. "I decided to just flip through some of the mug shots just in case I could spot someone who resembled Sherman or Maxwell." "Maxwell's in the slammer," Starsky added. "Not anymore. He got his parole." "He what?!" Starsky asked, stunned. "He was supposed to be in for six years minimum on that aggravated assault, even with all the bleeding heart good behavior and parole bullshit thrown in." "Well, I guess the overcrowding problem, coupled with his exemplary behavior in the prison environment--that's the wording in the file the prison faxed me--they tapped him for early release. His physique would match up with Blair's description of one of his assailants. And in your written statement, Blair, you mentioned one of them had a slight speech impediment, remember?" "I remember all right," Blair responded, rolling his eyes. Noticing Jim's puzzled expression, he added, "After he started yelling 'how does that feel' and telling me that's what I got for running away, while he was swinging the belt, I got to know his voice *real well*." "Let me see that photo," Jim demanded, and Hutch complied, handing it to him. "You never saw him without the mask?" he asked Blair. "No." "Here's the interesting thing," Hutch continued. "Get a load of this photo." He slid a photocopy of a photo into the middle of the table. All three of the others leaned in to look at it. "This is Gerald Masters, who was picked up on a petty larceny charge. According to his Cascade PD file, he stole some cigarettes from a convenience store, and the owner agreed not to press charges if he was paid for the merchandise." "Same guy," Jim announced, scanning both photos. "If they're the same person, we can just about bet this is one of the two, and I would bet a year's salary that accomplice number two is Sherman. We just have to find the asshole." "Let's start with Masters' last known address," Jim suggested, rising and heading for the door. "Uh, we should go downstairs first," Blair said hesitantly. "Good idea," Starsky concurred, standing also. "We'll meet you guys in the garage, okay?" "Sure," Hutch responded, following Jim out of the office. Dan Wolf chatted pleasantly, like many health care workers do to keep patients relaxed, as he drew blood samples from both men. "I'm not used to working on the live ones, so I'm sorry I forgot to warn you," he apologized after Blair started a little at the insertion of the needle. "Most of my customers don't notice." "I just don't like to watch," Blair responded, still not watching the small syringe fill with blood. "We've noticed that down here," Dan quipped, drawing a little chuckle from Starsky from his spot leaning against one of the counters. He pressed a cotton ball against the point of entry and instructed Blair to bend his elbow and hold it there to put pressure on the tiny wound. After labeling Blair's sample, he turned back to Starsky. "Ready for the next victim," he announced. "You thought you'd have the results in a couple hours?" Starsky asked, sitting down and rolling up his shirt sleeve. "Probably. I just got a fresh one I have to do this afternoon, so it could be this evening. But I'll get to it as soon as possible." "We really appreciate you doing this, Dan," Blair said. "No problem. I'm kind of interested in seeing the results myself. Guess they'd have to start cutting you a break around here if it turns out your old man's a cop too," Dan opined, laughing a little. "I wouldn't count on it," Blair retorted, grinning. "Besides, he'll be in California." "That's what planes are for," Starsky added, ignoring the stab of the needle. "It would be a bit interesting--being you ended up working with cops even though you weren't one," Dan stated, and Blair nodded a little. He couldn't explain what had really drawn him to work with cops, so he realized that taking his presence at face value, Dan's observation was a valid one. "Okay. Hold that," he instructed Starsky, as the other man moved his arm up to keep pressure on his own needle puncture. He then taped the cotton in place on Blair's arm, and after a brief pause, did the same for Starsky. "Is it okay if we check with you when we get back in?" Blair asked. "We have to go out to follow up a lead." "Sure. Just stop in when you get back. I might not be done yet, but if this next case is routine, I could be." "Okay. Thanks." Blair led the way out of the lab. ******** Jim pulled up to the curb in front of an aging brick apartment building not far from the city's main downtown business district. Hutch navigated the sedan to a halt behind Jim's pick-up. The four men congregated a moment on the sidewalk. "I want you to wait down here, Chief," Jim checked his gun and then replaced it in the holster. "I have a vested interest in this, Jim." "So do I--a vested interest in keeping you from getting a bullet in the head. Besides, we need somebody in a safe spot in case we need back up. If this jerk is who we think he is, and he's still here, he may make a break for it." "I don't like this." "Jim's right," Starsky spoke up. "You're not armed, and you're not a cop." "That hasn't been a problem so far," Blair shot back sharply. "Okay, guys, this isn't a pissing contest here. Blair, you're waiting in the truck. That's final." "What *is* it with you? I almost always come with you when you're going to question somebody." Blair watched as Jim took a prolonged, and obviously calming, breath. "I have two other cops for back-up, which gives me the luxury of not risking your ass here. Now I'm going to say this one more time. Wait. In. The. Truck." "Don't talk down to me, man. And DO NOT start giving me orders. I'm not some stupid kid." "Then quit acting like one." "You and Starsky go ahead. Blair and I'll bring up the rear," Hutch said, surprising Blair by sticking up for him in an argument the younger man never expected to win against three cops. Jim just shook his head and started in for the building. "Thanks," Blair muttered to Hutch as they followed the other pair. "Just keep alert and do what I tell you. I don't want you getting your head blown off. Starsky would kill me." "I'll watch my step. I'm not a stranger to this," Blair replied. "That's what I'm counting on." After checking with the building's super and finding that Masters was still a tenant in the fourth floor apartment, Jim knocked on the door of #416. When there was no reply, he looked at Starsky, who shrugged. "He's in there," Jim said quietly. "How do you--" "I just do." Removing his weapon from its holster and releasing the safety, Jim knocked on the door as Starsky prepared his own weapon. "Cascade PD. Open up!" Hutch drew his weapon from the spot around a corner of the hall where he and Blair waited. "If anything goes down, you stay back here. Now get on the phone and call for back-up," Hutch directed Blair, who wordlessly complied. When there was no response from inside the apartment audible to anyone but Jim, he backed up and kicked in the door, both detectives bursting through it with guns drawn. The relative silence was shattered by a spray of gunfire, and Hutch rushed down the hall, flattening himself against the wall near the open door. Blair found it hard to obey the command to stay out of the way now, but also realized his failure to do so could cause more harm than good. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed to any deity who would listen that both Jim and Starsky had survived the altercation. He watched Hutch wait a few moments, as if listening, then dive in the door himself. No gunfire followed, which Blair wasn't sure was a good sign or a bad sign. People were starting to come out their doors now, and Blair hastened to warn them all to stay in their apartments, that the police were on the scene. "Get an ambulance! Now!" Hutch's shout jolted Blair into motion with the phone again, his heart pounding crazily now, wondering who had been shot and how bad it was. As soon as he'd placed the call, he ran down the hall to the open apartment door. The inside of the small living room was nightmarish. A large man with brown hair and a mustache sprawled on his back near the windows opposite the door, a spreading patch of red soaking into his white t-shirt over his heart. Two other forms lay on the floor. Jim was raising up on one elbow now, finding his own handkerchief to stem the flow of blood from what appeared to be a flesh wound on his forehead. Nearby, Starsky lay motionless on the floor as his partner held a rapidly soaking bloody towel he'd grabbed from the kitchen over a wound to the prone man's chest. "Starsk, come on, dammit, you hang in there, babe." Stunned almost beyond his ability to function coherently at the sight of his lover, and what might be his father, felled in a shootout, Blair made his way toward the short hall that led to the bathroom and found all the towels he could there, hauling an armload back to the living room. He handed a fresh one to Hutch, who added it over the top of the soaked one. "Is he...?" Blair looked into Hutch's agonized eyes. "He's hangin' in there," Hutch murmured quietly, fighting to keep control and stay focused to help Starsky. Blair grabbed one of the smaller towels and turned to Jim, covering the soaked handkerchief the other man held to the flesh wound on his head and applying the pressure, freeing Jim's hand from the task. He slid an arm around his lover's broad shoulders, silently offering thanks that Jim's injuries weren't worse. "He moved up. I went in high and he went in low, and Masters was there, aiming, and like a flash, Starsky was just *there*, between me and the bullets. One hit him and one must have grazed my head, and I returned fire as I was hitting the floor, and dropped Masters," Jim recalled, still visibly stunned by the older cop's moves to save his life. Hutch didn't seem to care about the account of how it happened, at least not at that moment. All his efforts were focused on applying pressure to the wound and keeping up a steady litany of soft-voiced words to his fallen partner. "Jim!" Simon strode through the door. "Oh my God," he muttered, spotting Starsky on the floor nearby. "We got word of the 'officers down' call at headquarters. I guess Conner and I beat the back up units. They were just pulling up out front when we came in." "Where is the damned ambulance?!" Hutch demanded. "Close," Jim replied calmly, hearing the siren no one else could hear yet. Within seconds, it was audible to the others. "We should get out of their way, Chief," Jim suggested gently, starting to move. "Let me give you a hand," Simon offered, helping Blair pull Jim to his feet as Megan moved to Hutch's side to check Starsky's pulse. Needing both hands on the towels, Hutch hadn't been able to check it again since they arrived. She put her hand on Hutch's shoulder and appeared to be offering him some words of reassurance. "How is he?" Blair asked Jim. "His pulse is weak and thready. I'm sorry, Chief, but it doesn't sound good." The arm Jim had around Blair's shoulders for support tightened a little. "Come on. Let's get over to the hospital. At least we'll be there when the ambulance brings him in, okay?" "Yeah, okay," Blair agreed hesitantly, still watching the prone man on the floor and his anguished partner. As soon as they had moved into the hall and were heading for the elevator, the EMT's burst through the elevator doors and rushed down the hall with the gurney. "He's gotta be okay, Jim," Blair muttered quietly. "I know, baby. He's a pretty tough customer. He might fool us all yet." If Simon overheard the unusual endearment, he didn't say anything. He hit the elevator button to stop the doors from closing and when the other two men were inside, he stepped in and hit the button for the first floor. "You two have gotten to be pretty tight with our visitors," he commented. "Uh, Simon? My mom knew Starsky...a long time ago. Back in 1968. The timing was right... And we think maybe..." Blair shrugged slightly. "Oh, damn. You don't know for sure yet?" Simon's face was immediately more sympathetic. "We just got the test about an hour ago," Blair managed, then closed his eyes and worked at maintaining his control. Life couldn't be so cruel as to dangle a father in front of him--a father who already liked him for the person he was, who respected him, who would be proud of him--and then snatch him away again. It just wasn't fair... "It's gonna be okay, Chief," Jim said softly, rubbing Blair's shoulder a little. "I'm so...glad you're okay," he murmured, afraid that speaking out loud would come out as a sob instead of words. The lump in his throat was massive. "He...purposely got in the line of fire?" Blair asked. "It had to be on purpose. He's got lightning reflexes, and he moved faster than I could *think*. If he was in the line of fire, he wanted to be there. He saved my life, Blair." ******** Simon drove the two men to the hospital, and they managed to arrive just before the ambulance, which came racing up to the Emergency entrance just after Simon had dropped Jim and Blair off there and headed toward the lot to park. As soon as the nurse at the desk learned that Jim's injury was a gunshot wound, he found himself in a wheelchair headed for the nearest examination room, barely having time to stick his insurance card in Blair's hand to fill out the paperwork. When the double doors burst open and the gurney carrying Starsky was raced down the hall, Hutch keeping up at its side, he handed the card to the nurse and rushed over to join the chaos. Hutch reluctantly slowed his trot and watched them wheel his lover through a set of double doors. "How is he?" Blair asked immediately. "He's hanging on," Hutch managed. The tall man stood stock still in the now quiet hallway, staring after the gurney as if he could still see it. "He has to," he added quietly. Then Hutch took a look at his hands, horrified by the amount of drying blood there, and on his clothing. Starsky's blood. "God, not again," he moaned, a couple of tears sliding down his cheeks. "Not again." "Maybe you should get cleaned up," Blair suggested. "The restroom's right over there," he said, inclining his head in that direction. Remembering Hutch's moral support and compassion with him at the scene of Slater's death, Blair was more than willing to return the favor. "He's my life. My soul. I can't lose him." "He knows you need him. He won't leave you if he can help it." Something in the statement seemed to stir Hutch from his reverie, and he looked down into Blair's eyes. "No. You're right. He won't." He found a small smile then, and followed Blair willingly to the restroom. When Jim emerged from the examining room, Blair had successfully completed the ream of paperwork at the desk, and was sitting on one end of the couch, Hutch in a nearby chair, both men looking pale and pensive. Blair's head snapped up immediately at Jim's presence. "How're you feeling?" he asked as Jim dropped into the seat next to him, running his arm behind Blair on the back of the couch. "I've got a five alarm headache, but other than that, I'm okay. Any word?" "He's in surgery," Hutch responded. "The bullet missed his heart and lungs, but it did nick an artery. That's why the bleeding was so excessive, and stopping that is the big challenge." "Blair?" Dan Wolf appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. "I just heard about what happened...about Detective Starsky's injury. I would like to talk to you for a moment." "Whatever it is--you can say it in front of Jim and Hutch," Blair responded, and Dan joined the group, sitting on the edge of the other chair near the couch. "The test is completed. Do you want to know the results now?" "Yes," Blair said in a voice that was more of a breath than a word, and nodded. "I can tell you that he *is* your father, Blair. With a 99.97% certainty, based on the DNA test." "Oh, man," Blair muttered, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You're sure?" he asked, his face contorting a bit with the threat of tears. "I'm sure. I thought you should know." "Thanks for coming over to tell us, Dan," Jim spoke up. He rested his hand on Blair's back. "You okay, Chief?" His answer was the vibration of Blair's tears shaking his entire body. Without concern for the other men who were watching, Jim encouraged Blair into his arms and held him close. "I'm here, Chief. It's okay. I'm right here," Jim repeated softly, rubbing Blair's back slowly. "Detective Hutchinson--you look like you could use some coffee," Dan suggested, smiling slightly at the haggard man sitting in the other chair. "Only if they can pump it in intravenously," Hutch retorted, rising as Dan did, moving down the hall toward the coffee machine. "It's not fair!" Blair shouted into Jim's shoulder. "I know it isn't, sweetheart. It sucks. But it isn't over yet. He's strong, and he has every reason to want to make it through this." "All my life... I thought...I wondered if...that maybe he was some really...bad person...or didn't...want me..." "And now he's a great dad and you get him snatched away before you can even get to know him. But he's not gone yet, baby. It's not over." "I...wanted so bad...to know... Now, I wish...I didn't," Blair confided miserably, still crying. "Shhh. Try to relax and take a few deep breaths, baby," Jim suggested, patting Blair's back lightly. "I'm so glad you're okay," Blair choked out, trying to calm down and swallow a few times. "I'm fine, baby. I'm right here. It's gonna be okay, sweetheart." "What if...he dies...and he never knows?" "I think he knew, Blair. I don't know how, if it was instinct or a hunch, or what it was--but from the first day he arrived, he was drawn to you. No matter what happens, somehow, he knew." //Why else would he put himself between me and a bullet--unless he was saving his son's lover, knowing what losing Hutch would feel like to him, and wanting to save you that same pain?// Jim took a deep breath, sobered by the thought. His life had been saved by two generations of Blair's family now. And knowing Starsky was Blair's father made the detective's life precious to Jim, as well. Blair was quieting now, his sobs reduced to a few sharp indrawn breaths and a couple of lingering tears. "Jim, I need you to be honest with me about something." "Anything, sweetheart." "Why didn't you want me to come in with you back at the scene?" "I had a feeling it could get dangerous. If Masters--Maxwell, whoever, hung out with animals like Slater, I figured he wouldn't just invite us in for coffee. I didn't want you getting hurt." "Did I..." Blair took a deep breath and sat up, moving away from the damp spot on Jim's shirt he had created. "Did I mess things up by insisting on coming in? I mean, if I had stayed outside, Hutch wouldn't have been watching out for me." "You didn't mess anything up, Blair," Hutch answered before Jim could, as he rejoined them. "Dan had to get back to the lab. He said to call him if you had any questions." Hutch took a swallow of the coffee from the styrofoam cup he held. "Only so many cops can burst through a door without getting stuck there. About the maximum number before you start shooting each other, quite frankly, is two. And being this Maxwell character had beaten up on you before, I have a feeling that Starsk would have insisted on being one of the two to go in." "But Jim wanted me to wait downstairs, and you were trying to look out for me--" "Actually, I wasn't spending much time looking out for you. I wanted you out of the line of fire, which you were. But my place wasn't to put *myself* in the line of fire either. I was supposed to be just what I was--back-up. And having you there to get the residents back in their apartments and make the necessary calls for departmental back-up and the ambulance was a big help. This isn't your fault, kiddo. We all know shit like this happens to cops every day. That's one of the reasons I wanted to retire from active duty five years ago." Hutch snorted a little laugh. "But sentencing Starsky to taking up gardening and sitting on the deck all day would be akin to killing him. He couldn't stand it. And I don't trust anyone but myself to back up the old fart on the streets, so here I am," Hutch concluded, smiling a little. "He moves fast for an old fart," Jim commented, laughing. "He's five months older than I am. It's a running joke." Hutch sighed. "I've spent so many vigils like this in hospitals waiting for Starsky. This lousy job has been so cruel to him and he still loves it. Kind of like a guy who can't get it through his head that his wife's no good. Starsky's that devoted. Somehow, he always seems to make it back again." "Maybe it's the incentive--he doesn't want to leave you," Blair added. "Almost twenty years ago now, Starsky was shot multiple times in a professional hit. Nobody expected him to live. They did lose him once briefly. He says he had a choice of whether or not to come back. And he came back. It was against all the odds then. I have to believe he can still pull it off now." "I'm sorry that he was wounded because of our case," Jim said, shaking his head. "If he hadn't moved when he did, I'd probably be dead right now." Jim laid a hand on Blair's arm as he felt a shiver pass through his lover's body. "Gotta take care of the future son-in-law. You want some coffee?" "I'd kill for it," Jim said, chuckling a little. "Where's Simon, anyway?" "He went back to the scene. He said he'd be back in a while," Blair volunteered. "He waited with us for a few minutes, until after the doctors came out and told us how you guys were both doing." "It's probably going to be a long night," Hutch opined a bit grimly, rising and leading the other two men toward the coffee machine. ******** The group had been there for several hours by the time there was any news on Starsky's condition. Megan, Rafe, Brown and Simon had joined the little vigil and brought take-outs with them, though the three men who had been there from the start had little appetite. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the tired-looking doctor emerged and approached the group. A man in his mid-forties with sandy-colored hair and a ready smile, his pleasant expression alleviated a lot of pent up terror before he ever opened his mouth. "Mr. Starsky made it through surgery. We successfully removed the bullet and repaired the damage. Fortunately, the actual damage to the tissue was minor considering the trauma, so our big concern is getting his vitals stabilized. His blood pressure plummeted because of the blood loss and he's not out of the woods completely yet. The next 24 hours will be crucial, but I would say he has a very strong chance of survival--higher than 50-50." "When can I see him?" Hutch asked immediately. "He's in recovery now, so it'll be a couple of hours. He'll be moved to ICU from there, and his visitors will be limited to one per hour, for five or ten minutes, max. The nurse will let you know when you can go up." "Thank you, doctor," Hutch replied, feeling a great deal of the day's tension oozing out of him. "Thank God," he muttered as the doctor took his leave. "I have to admit, I didn't think things would turn out so well after seeing him at the scene," Megan admitted. "Neither did I," Hutch concurred. "But then, this isn't the first time he's surprised me." "We better head back downtown. Jim, you look like you could use some rest," Simon commented as he rose, and the rest of the Cascade PD contingent followed suit. "I could give you a lift home. Blair, are you staying?" "It's okay if you want to, Chief. I'm okay. I can stay with you." "You should get some rest. Simon's right." "I'll call you if anything changes," Hutch spoke up. "Why don't you two go home? I'll be okay here, and Starsky's going to sleep for a while, and even when he does come around at first, he'll be groggy as hell." "You'll call right away?" Blair clarified. Hutch just smiled and nodded. Blair glanced back at Jim, who really did look a shade or two paler than normal, and very tired. While it had only been a graze, it had been an impact, and he'd lost some blood from the wound. "Okay, then we'll head for home for now." ******** Blair lay quietly against his lover, listening to the steady rhythm of Jim's heart. It was after midnight, and Hutch had called once around eleven to tell them that Starsky was holding his own, but hadn't regained consciousness yet. After that, the two men had decided to turn in for the night and try to get some sleep. Between tying up the loose ends of the Masters/Maxwell incident, and spending time at the hospital, the next day would be a long one. "Jim?" "Yeah?" The voice was a little groggy, as if Jim had been on the edge of sleep. "When you're feeling better, I want to try again." "Try what, sweetheart?" "Uh...sex." "What made you think about that now?" Jim asked, moving his head to kiss Blair's forehead. "When I heard the shooting...it was just like all these...missed opportunities flashed through my mind. And that was one of them." "Even if the worst had happened, Chief, I wouldn't have gone out feeling mad at you or hurt because we hadn't taken that step successfully yet." "But we would have missed ever really making love." "We won't miss it now. When the time's right, we'll figure out the mechanics of it." "It won't just happen. We have to work at it." "Blair, if it's a sensation you don't like, I'm not going to pressure you into something that hurts you." "You didn't make a very good monk, Jim." Blair laughed a little. "I just...need to get over it, and relax more." "When we get everything smoothed out, and we know Starsky's okay, and you guys have had time to work you some of your...issues, we'll set aside some time to figure this out." "I didn't think he was gonna make it." "Neither did I. He surprised everyone, I think. Guess you come from pretty tough stock, Chief." "Seems so weird...to have a face to put with the concept." "I'm glad that when you found him, he wasn't a disappointment or a negative experience." "Me too." Blair let his eyes drift shut. "Jim?" "Hmm?" "I love you." "I love you too, baby. Get some sleep. We're gonna need it tomorrow." ******** Hutch stared at the motionless form of his partner. //Not entirely motionless. At least he's breathing, and his heart's beating...// He ran his hand over his face, pausing to rub at bloodshot eyes. Checking his watch, he saw that it was three in the morning. The night nurse didn't seem to care if he sat there. As a matter of fact, she had taken mercy on him since all he was doing was trying to nap on the couch in the waiting room and then jumping up to come in every hour. Starsky was in a private room in the ICU wing, so Hutch's presence didn't disturb any other patients. He had been silent most of the late night hours, not wanting to interfere with Starsky's rest. "I thought you'd have come around by now, Gordo. You're really taking a hell of a nap on me here." Hutch took a hold of his lover's cool hand. "There's a lot going on that you have to be awake for, babe." He brought Starsky's hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, then clasped it in both of his. "There's some news that really should come from Blair, so I'll let him tell you, but let's just say you're going to be letting him down in a big way if you don't hurry up and re-join the living here. And we've got an anniversary coming up. That's right, my love. Next week. Nineteen years together." Hutch felt the lump rising in his throat. "Every day of those nineteen years was a gift...a miracle. God, Starsk, it all started for us in a hospital... Don't let it end there, too. We've got a lifetime ahead of us. So many places we both want to travel, things we want to see together. Plans we made. Hell, you know I can't expand the deck without you," Hutch added, laughing a little wetly as he held Starsky's hand against his face. "And I can't live the next twenty or so years of my life that way either." Starsky still lay silent, his eyes closed, dark lashes contrasting with pale skin. "I have big plans for that anniversary, babe. I was going to make reservations at the Seaside Inn, but then I figured it would be more romantic if we just spent the night in our own little paradise. That's what our home is for me, Starsk. It always has been, since it was a skunky little fixer-upper. Now that it's a beautiful home we've built together, it's just more beautiful to me. Just like you. Every year, I love you more, and I never expected that would be possible. It's that love that comes with routine--all the best parts of marriage. Counting on each other, doing all the dull things together, bickering about bills and retirement plans and what to watch on TV. God, Starsk, our life has been so beautiful. So blessed. I know it's probably greedy to want more when you've already had so much more than most people. But I want it." "I wrote you a song. I was planning to surprise you with it next week, but I want you to hear it now. And know that I couldn't ever put into words what you mean to me if I sang forever." Hutch kissed his lover's hand one more time before he started singing quietly, his smooth, mellow voice wafting on the silence of the ICU wing: //Here we are After all these years Face to face Heart to heart And I've loved you from the start But I never thought that we'd be standing here After all these years Here we are With another song to sing All these days Pass us by As we watched our childhood fly And I'm still the one to share Your hopes and fears After all these years After all these years We still have each other One to another After all these years You're still the one And I'm still here After all these years And Here we are With another bridge to cross Face to face Heart to heart And I loved you from the start But I never thought that we'd be standing here After all these years And I've loved these days All we've been through And I'd just like to say I'm so glad it's been you Here's one more song from the heart For the laughter and the tears After all these years After all these years// Hutch kissed the hand he was holding again and looked back up--and straight into two sapphire blue eyes, watching him with that trademark grin. It was faint, but it was there. "Never could pass up hearin' you sing, blondie," Starsky managed in a rough voice. "Hey, babe. How're you feeling?" Hutch reached up and caressed his lover's face. "Tired. Like somebody has a knife in my chest. That's where I...took the shot...huh?" "Yeah. Leave it to you, Starsk. Can't take it somewhere ordinary like the shoulder." Hutch smiled. "Don't try to talk and tire yourself out. I'll go let the nurse know you're awake." "Blair...he's okay?" "He's fine. Worried sick about you, but he's fine. So's Ellison, thanks to you throwing your body in front of him, hero." "Didn't..." Starsky closed his eyes and swallowed. "Didn't want Blair to have to bury the man he loved," he managed, looking into Hutch's eyes. "Gotta...look out for my boy," he said softly, smiling a little. "You always knew, didn't you? Had a feeling?" Hutch watched the dark head nod slightly. "Didn't need a test. He's mine," Starsky murmured with obvious pride. "Just knew it." "I think he's pretty excited about having you for a dad, buddy." "He's really something, isn't he? My kid?" Starsky blinked a couple times, his eyes moist. "Who'd'a thought? My boy the professor." "You should rest, love." Hutch raised up and kissed Starsky's forehead. "What's that? A kiss from my ma? My lips are down here, babe." "If you insist," Hutch responded, planting a light, but slightly lingering kiss on his partner's lips. "I love you." "I love you too, you old blond blintz." Starsky smiled as Hutch laughed, wiping at his eyes. "I'm going to get the nurse. Be right back." "I'll wait," Starsky responded, winking at Hutch and still grinning slightly. ********