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False Accusation
by
Lutra Cana
(07/23/2000)

PART ONE

Time crawled by. The silence grew until he wanted to scream just to hear something other than the words flying around in his head. But he stopped himself mostly because he was afraid that someone would come and throw a net over him. Afraid that he would prove to them that he really was nuts.

*****

The day that started the whole thing was a relatively normal one. The weather was not great, but at least the heavy rains had stopped and a person could cross the street without getting soaked in the process. Hutch had picked him up in his newest old car. A cranky beast decorated in varying shades of primer, chipping brown paint, and rust. But at least this one ran. Sort of.

Starsky's car was in the shop again. Since Gunther, the car had never been the same. Try as Merle did, he just could not seem to find what was making the car stall out at intersections and what the terrible rattle under the hood was. Starsky was afraid that his car was on its last legs, so to speak, and he would have to start looking for a new one. Not that the idea of a brand-new car was not appealing, but he loved the old Torino. It was almost as much part of the team as either he or Hutch. It had protected them many times from rain, other cars, and the more-than-occasional bullet. And it had saved Hutch's life that day in the garage.

Perhaps the most important thing it had ever done in its life.

They had been driving for a bit when Hutch dropped his bombshell. He was leaving.

"What do you mean, you're leaving? Leaving what? LA, the department, the country? me? And why?" Starsky felt as if someone had reached in and ripped his heart out. The fear that simple statement left in him hurt almost as much as all of Gunther's bullets together had.

Hutch, stopped at a red light, and looked away from him. Granted he was checking traffic, but still.... "Don't get melodramatic, Starsk. I'm not leaving the department." Starsky almost fainted with relief. "I'm going home for a bit. Just a week or so. My parents are going on a tour of Europe and they want to see me before they go. They're going to be gone for a year; can you believe that? They want me to help them close up the house and put some of the more valuable stuff in storage. Or take some of it home with me."

"Oh." Starsky could not think of anything more clever than that one word answer.

"I already cleared it with Dobey. I've got the plane tickets and everything. I do have one favor to ask of you, though." Hutch pulled away from the red light and turned towards the station. He glanced over at Starsky and smiled the smile that always made Starsky catch his breath. And wish, once again, that things could be different.

"Sure, name it. What'cha want me to do? Water your plants or something?" Starsky tried to sound nonchalant in spite of his red face and the definite ache in his stomach.

"Come with me." Hutch was still smiling and looking at him for his reaction. Starsky had to point out the car that had stopped in front of them to park. Hutch slammed on the brakes just in time.

"Come with you? To Duluth? Why?" He found himself thinking that he was asking an inordinate number of questions this morning.

Hutch, looking straight ahead now for other cars that dared to get in his way, blushed. Which Starsky found more than interesting. His stomach hurt a little more. "Because you've never been home with me and my mom keeps asking me about you. My parents want to meet the person who I spend most of my life with." Hutch hazarded a glance. "We've been friends for over ten years and you've never met them. They're curious is all."

Starsky could not help but snicker. "You mean you're taking me home to meet your folks? What's next, an engagement ring?" The snicker died a choking death when Starsky saw the look that crossed Hutch's face. A look of want mixed in with more than a little apprehension. "Hutch?"

Pulling into the police station parking lot, Hutch would not look at him. Instead, he did his usual surveillance of the area. Something he started the day Starsky came back to duty. Stopping the clanking LTD in his space, Hutch turned off the ignition and held the key in his hand, examining it as if he had never seen it before. Starsky tried again.

"Hutch?" He reached out a hand and laid it on top of the one holding the key in Hutch's lap. "C'mon, partner. Talk to me."

Swallowing, Hutch looked down at their hands in his lap. Then he looked up at Starsky and smiled. A sickly smile, but it was a smile and that gave Starsky hope. "Yeah, guess I am taking you home to meet the folks. I want them to see how important you are to me and why." He laid his free hand on top of Starsky's and gripped it. "I want them to meet the man that I love better than I've ever loved anyone. If you'll let me, that is."

"Huh?" Starsky could not believe what he was hearing. Was Hutch really saying what he thought he was? What Starsky prayed Hutch was?

"I'm telling you that I love you, you moron, and all you can say is 'Huh'? Damn it, Starsky. Is it so hard for you to understand that I care about you? Beyond simple friendship?" Hutch was getting mad, something he did when he was embarrassed or afraid he had committed a serious breach of propriety.

Starsky shook his head, his eyes never leaving Hutch's. Eyes he dreamed about at night in those fantasies that embarrassed him in the light of day and in the face of his partner's innocence. And now here they were, his "innocent" partner saying the very words he had wanted to a thousand times over the last year since he woke up in that hospital. Since God, the fates, or just blind luck had granted him a second chance. And he was speechless. From fear or joy, he was not quite sure.

Searching for his suddenly errant voice, Starsky tried to think of what this meant. Was Hutch *really* saying that he loved him the way Starsky loved Hutch? Or was it the "best buddies" and "I'd die for you" kind of thing they had always had. What was Hutch really saying? And what if he chose wrong? Lord.

Then Hutch did the one thing that convinced Starsky that he was not dreaming, was not having a hallucination, or simply mistaken. Hutch lifted the two clasped hands, his and Starsky's, to his lips and kissed Starsky's palm. Looked at him with those summer sky blue eyes and waited.

Starsky finally found his voice and dragged it out of the dark. "My God. Hutch?" Damn, another question. Smarten up here. "I...uh...." His voice deserted him again. If they had not have been in one of the most public places on the face of the earth he would have grabbed Hutch by the ears and showed him that he understood exactly what that gesture meant. Instead, he had to settle for a goofy, love-struck smile and hope it was enough.

Apparently it was, because the answering smile that lit up Hutch's face was bright enough to blind the man at the receiving end. The two of them sat and stared at each other for what seemed like years until a loud horn blast just behind them alerted them to their precarious position. Sitting, holding hands in full view of a hundred or so fellow cops was probably not the smartest thing to do. Dropping Starsky's hand, Hutch reached across and patted his shoulder. A gesture so platonic in its nature that if Hutch had not winked at him, he would have thought that maybe the last few minutes really had been a hallucination.

"So, you coming with me, partner?" The way Hutch said the word partner - a word he had heard a dozen times a day since the beginning of that partnership - made his palms sweat. So full of love, challenge, and innuendo that it was all Starsky could do to nod in answer. And try not to swallow his tongue.

*******

The next couple of days were hectic. Neither of the partners had time to do anything about their new discovery, as they were just too busy or too tired. Dobey wanted them to either close all their outstanding cases or make sure that the files were in order so that another team could continue with them. This created hours of over-time while they typed reports, chased down leads, and tried to bring the detectives taking over their caseload up to speed. By the time they left the precinct at the end of each day, neither of them was in any shape to pursue the shifting of their relationship.

In a way, it made the whole concept that much more exciting.

Starsky found himself daydreaming about his partner and what he would do to him when he finally got him alone. When he had enough strength to do what he wanted to do to him when he got him alone.

He also found that he felt very shy around Hutch. He noticed things that he never allowed himself the privilege of noticing before. Like the way Hutch pushed his hands into his back pockets when he was standing in front of the candy machine trying to make a decision. Or the way that one strand of hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over the keyboard. How Hutch put on his jacket or tightened his holster across his shoulders. Little things that Starsky had probably seen a million times but never paid attention too.

Even started to notice how long Hutch's legs were, or how nice he looked in black. No...not nice. Damn sexy. The one time that he caught himself staring at Hutch's crotch threw him. Not that he had never "looked" before. Men do that. But that he had never "thought" about it before. Not with the conscious part of his brain, anyway. Although he had been having fantasies about them being together, he had never progressed much beyond grabbing Hutch and kissing him silly. Maybe a little "gropie-feelie" but nothing beyond that. He had just never allowed himself before.

But now, he had permission from the object of his desires to think beyond that. To think about what two men who loved each other in a sexual way could do to each other. And it embarrassed him.

Somehow, he had trouble even thinking about touching Hutch like that. Down there. Or about Hutch touching him. Not that Hutch had not helped him a few times when he was in the hospital or after he came home, to take care of basic functions. But that was different. Hutch always did it in a purely clinical, detached manner just as if Starsky was any old patient and Hutch his nurse.

Now there was not going to be anything clinical or detached about anyone touching anyone. It was going to be very personal. And Starsky did not know how to begin the process. What the hell did men do together? He had never thought about it, never allowed himself to think about it. When John Blaine died, and he had learned that his old mentor had been a poorly closeted gay man for years, he had almost felt sick at the concept. When they had been at Sugar's club and he had watched the patrons, he always wanted to wash afterwards. He knew at the time that he was being insensitive. A total ass about it, but the years of ingrained homophobic training that he had received on the streets of Brooklyn and then in LA made it difficult to think any other way.

And now, here he was. About to cross a line that he had always backed away from with fear and loathing. About to become his partner's - his male partner's - lover. Which, in the eyes of society and everything he always believed, made him as gay as any of those guys he had seen at Sugar's. It was a difficult idea to come to terms with. Him, good ol' David Starsky, the stud of the Metro division, about to throw that all away for the love of one man.

There were times in the last couple of days that he felt as if he were at the epicenter of a seven point nine earthquake.

The one thing that amazed him more than all of this thought process was how easily Hutch was taking it. Hutch, who Starsky had always considered straighter than straight, was totally comfortable with this new arrangement. It was Hutch who slipped him little gifts. A chocolate bar here, a little love note there. Who looked around to check when he picked him up in the morning, then gave him a quick buzz on the cheek. Who, more than once, ran his hand up and down Starsky's leg when they were driving somewhere.

Maybe it was just as well that they had not had the time, energy, or opportunity to consummate the relationship. Starsky was not really sure if he was ready for that in spite of having craved it for the better part of a year. In spite of the shivers that crawled up and down his spine, then rested in a particularly vulnerable spot whenever Hutch and he touched. Even the most casual of touches made him so...so...aroused...that he had a hard time concentrating on work.

Starsky knew if they did not do something, and damn soon, he was going to burst. Or scream. Or grab Hutch and screw him right on Dobey's desk. None of which would be very productive things to do.

He was more than thankful when the last day of their enforced work marathon ended and they were on the way to Duluth.

***

The plane ride was interesting to say the least. Hutch had gotten them seats in first-class. When Starsky objected to this rather extravagant waste of money, Hutch had smiled that enigmatic smile of his and said, "Dad's paying for it. And a Hutchinson always goes first class." Okay, fine. Who was he to argue with Hutch's dad?

The seats in first-class were plush. The food better than coach, and the stewardesses a lot more attentive, none of which Starsky paid the least attention to. Mostly because Hutch was too darn distracting. Even though the seats were farther apart in first-class, there still was not enough room for Hutch's long legs. Not if he put them straight in front of him, that is. But if he shifted them to one side, he could sit more comfortably. Unfortunately, for Starsky's state of mind, the only direction that Hutch - who was in the window seat - had to move his legs was towards Starsky's. Toward, under, beside, one time on top. All of which made Starsky very nervous. And more than a little turned on.

Starsky tried to sleep. And ended up watching Hutch napping instead. Tried to read a magazine one of the pretty stewardesses (whom he was pretty sure he had dated - and maybe slept with - one time) brought him. But he found himself laying the magazine down on Hutch's knee that had sneaked its way onto his own just so he could touch the warm, corduroy clad flesh.

He went to the bathroom at least thirty times between LA and their stopover at the airport serving the Minneapolis/Saint Paul area, Starsky was sure that the stewardesses thought he had some kind of problem. Maybe was a dope fiend or something by the way they started watching him whenever he made the journey forward to one of the little cubicles. Where he would lock the door, put the lid down on the toilet, and try to will his body to behave. The one time he really did have to use the bathroom, he almost peed on the lid because he had gotten into the habit of putting it down the minute he stepped into the tiny space.

By the time they reached Minnesota, he was a nervous wreck. And Hutch looked as fresh as he had when they stepped on the plane in LA. Starsky could have gleefully killed him.

They had an hour wait for their connecting flight to Duluth and decided to spend it in a coffee shop overlooking the runways. Watching the take-offs and landings did little to relax Starsky. Hutch and he sat across from each other at a tiny table. So tiny that their knees touched. No matter how Starsky tried to avoid them, it seemed that one or the other of Hutch's knees was leaning against his. And then there was the time Hutch ran his foot up and down Starsky's leg, causing him almost to fall off the stool he was perched on.

"God, Hutch." Starsky hissed at his grinning partner. Taking a quick glance around to see if anyone had noticed, he turned to glare at Hutch. "Stop that. We're in public here."

"So? And what of it? No one knows us here. And I doubt anyone would really care what we did short of us actually getting naked and making out on the floor." Hutch leered at him. An expression that Starsky had never in all the years he had known this man had turned on him. He could feel his face heat with the blush he was sure was as bright as one of those landing lights out on the field.

"Still. I'm sure they have morality laws in this state, and I really don't want to get arrested on the way to meet your parents. For crying out loud." Starsky was practically sputtering, such an unusual occurrence that it threw him almost as much as the mental image Hutch's statement made in his mind.

"You know, if I hadn't seen the way your mouth gets all slack and your eyes glaze over when you look at me, I'd think you didn't want us to be together." Hutch put a little extra emphasis on the word "together" making it very clear what he meant. The hurt look on Hutch's face prompted Starsky to reach across the table and lay his hand on his partner's arm.

"Aw, Hutch. You know I love you. I want to be 'together' with you so bad at times that I feel like I'm goin' die if I don't get to touch you. But there's a time and place for this stuff. No matter what we feel for each other, other people just don't see it that way. They think that two guys together is sick. And we need to be careful when we're in public." He tightened his grip on the strong arm under his hand and turned on one of his most brilliant smiles. "And my mouth getting all slack and my eyes glazing over ain't the only reactions I have when I look at you. Right now, I'm having a hell of a time sitting here because my jeans are suddenly too damn tight."

It was Hutch's turn to blush. Starsky took perverse pleasure in his partner's embarrassment as he watched the fair skin turn bright pink. He took some pity on his friend and patted Hutch's arm. "You wanta go for a walk? Maybe moving around and looking at the duty free shops will take our minds off of our predicament." He stretched the word "predicament" out with emphasis on the syllable "dic" just to see Hutch's face turn even pinker.

Nodding, obviously not trusting his voice at the moment, Hutch slid off his stool and waited while Starsky downed the last of his coffee. Jumping off the stool, Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's back just above the waistband of his black cords and let it linger there for a minute. It felt so good to be touching that warm space that Starsky almost felt faint. Letting his hand slip off was far more difficult than it should have been, even if he did let his hand accidentally graze Hutch's butt in passing.

They spent a pleasant half-hour snooping in the shops, gently teasing and flirting with each other. Starsky held a deep blue sweatshirt with a picture of a local landmark on it against Hutch's chest. Smiled sweetly as he commented how the color brought out the blue in Hutch's eyes. Smiled even more sweetly as he pushed just a little harder than necessary with his index finger against a raised nipple under Hutch's thin shirt. Enjoyed immensely the little gasp that resulted from that gesture.

Hutch took his turn at copping a feel by looping a fancy leather belt around Starsky's trim waist and holding it in place with one hand while he turned Starsky towards a wall mirror. Standing as close as he could, pretending to hang on to the belt, Hutch pressed himself against Starsky's butt. That just about made Starsky's knees buckle as he felt the warm mass trying to nestle against the back seam of his jeans.

It was almost a relief when they heard their flight announced and went to begin the last leg of their journey. To meet Hutch's folks and maybe, just maybe, find a quiet place to be alone.

*****

The plane that carried them to Duluth was a Turboprop and not nearly as luxurious as the bigger jet had been. Even though they still had first-class seats, they were smaller and closer together. So close, in fact, that Starsky felt as if Hutch was practically sitting in his lap. Their elbows kept bumping on the armrest and Hutch's leg lay warm down the entire length of his. The way Hutch leaned into his headrest the blond head might as well have been on Starsky's.

Luckily for Starsky's equilibrium, the flight was short, just over an hour. By the time they disembarked in Duluth, Starsky had memorized every word of the emergency procedures pamphlet just to have something to concentrate on besides the man leaning up against him. The man who had him trapped between the window and that nice warm presence.

It took them almost longer to claim their luggage than the short flight had been. Finally snagging the last bag - a rather worn leather suitcase that had accompanied Starsky on many a trip to New York - they went in search of the rental car that Hutch had arranged for.

The blue sedan that the Avis clerk directed them to was top-of-the-line and Starsky entertained himself playing with the radio/tape player as Hutch negotiated their way out of the airport. It did not take long to find a station that was not country; he settled back and looked around at the passing countryside. Expecting to see nothing but cows and wheat fields, he was surprised to see that they were traveling on a modern highway and rapidly approaching rather large buildings.

"Uh, Hutch. I thought your parents lived on a farm." Starsky was puzzled by the lack of pick-up trucks and the multitude of luxury cars passing them in the other lane.

Hutch's rich laugh filled the car. "They used to. They sold it to one of my Dad's uncles years ago. Dad was never cut out to be anything but a gentleman farmer and he much prefers life in the big city, as does my mom. You'll see, Starsk. You won't have to eat your dinner by lantern light or go to the bathroom in a privy. We have all the modern conveniences in Duluth." He reached across and patted Starsky's leg, allowing his hand to linger just a moment before he slid the hand away from Starsky's thigh. Starsky missed that nice warm hand so close to the part of him that seemed to jump to attention every time Hutch came near it.

"Ha, ha. That's not what I meant and you know it. I guess I just never thought about Duluth being a big city especially with all those stories about your Grandfather's farm and all. Even forgot my geography and that Duluth is on the Great Lakes. Guess that's why you were a Sea Scout, huh?" Starsky squirmed on the seat, trying to realign himself and move the seam that threatened to strangle him.

"Yep. We moved into the city the year before I started High School. I'd always been fascinated by the boats on the lake so it wasn't hard to convince my dad to let me join the scouts. The family owns part-interest in one of the bigger shipping companies in this area and I think Dad was hoping I'd want to work in the office or something. Sure fooled him." Starsky looked away from his scenery viewing at the sad sound of that last.

"Ever any regrets?"

The smile Hutch turned on him put to rest any of his own doubts. "None. If I hadn't decided that I wanted to be a doctor, I'd never have moved to LA. If I hadn't realized that medicine wasn't for me, I'd never have entered the academy. And if I'd never entered the academy, I would never have met you. And that would have been the worst thing that would never have happened to me. Believe me, babe, I've no regrets at how my life turned out. Not a one."

The rest of the trip to Hutch's parents' home was spent in warm silence. Starsky rested his arm along the back of the seat. His hand seemed to find the soft skin of Hutch's neck all on its own and stayed there until Hutch pulled to a stop in front of a large house.

"Well, here we are, Starsk. My parents' house." Hutch leaned back against the hand on his neck and looked at the brick and wood exterior with an unsettled expression on his face.

Starsky rubbed his hand up into the silky blond hair. "What's wrong?"

"Um? Oh nothing really. It's just I have never gotten used to this house." Hutch looked at his friend. "My parents bought this one about five years ago. Said that now that both Katie and I were on our own, that they didn't need such a big house." His gesture took in the house and the rest of the neighborhood. "I've always figured that it was more that this is a better area than the old one. Or that there's too many memories at the old house that neither of my parents wanted to deal with." His sigh spoke volumes about an unhappy adolescence and the years of a strained relationship between parents and child. A relationship that had slowly grown closer as Hutch's family came to accept his choices in life. And a growing up of the prodigal son.

"It looks like a nice house, Hutch. Heck, it's about the size of the whole brownstone I grew up in and there were four families living there." Starsky grinned.

"Yeah. And maybe that's part of the problem with this house, Starsk. It's too damn big for two people. It's bigger than the other house. I keep thinking that my parents are hoping that one or the other of us kids will come back here to live. Or maybe both of us. Give them another shot at being the kind of parents we all wished they'd been. And the kind of kids we wish we'd been, too."

"Well, you know you can't sit out here much longer, Hutch. I've seen that curtain move twice already. They know we're here." A thought occurred to Starsky. "Are you nervous about them finding out about us?" The look on Hutch's face told him all he needed to know. Starsky slowly removed his hand from its comfortable spot on Hutch's neck. "That's it, isn't it? You're scared."

"I'm sorry...."

"It's okay. Honest. Your parents leave in what? Four days? I can hang on that long if you need us to cool it. I won't say I'm going to enjoy it, but I guess I've waited this long, a few more days won't kill me." Now there's a lie and a half. Starsky tried to smile bravely, but he knew that it was more brittle than brave.

"No, Starsk, it's not okay. One of the reasons I wanted you here - maybe the most important one - is that I want them to know you. Know what you mean to me and accept it. Because that's the way it's going to be. Forever. You and me are going to be forever, Starsky, and they are just going to have to deal with it. I'm not going to hide the most important thing in my life from my parents anymore. I've done that for far too long."

Overwhelming pride at his partner's adamant words flooded through Starsky. He knew that Hutch loved him. He had always known that. And he knew that the love had changed...grown...mutated...whatever...in the last couple of years into this magical thing between them. He knew that with every fiber of his being. But hearing Hutch say that they were forever sounded so wonderful that he did not know whether he wanted to laugh with joy or cry from the beauty of it. He settled with turning in his seat, wrapping his arms around Hutch and hugging his as tight as he could around the gearshift and the cup holder. If it had not still been light enough to read, he would have kissed Hutch too. But he held back on that pleasure until they were alone. Some things just were not for public consumption.

Releasing his partner, Starsky sat back and smiled. "I love you, too. Now let's go in and tell them so. And maybe next week we can fly up to New York and tell my family. Of course, there's about a hundred of them and it'll take longer, but I can't wait to see their faces when they see the gorgeous blond I brought home with me." He laughed at the blush on Hutch's face. "You know, you're going to have to stop doing that every time I pay you a compliment or you're going to wear yourself out. And I can think of far better ways of wearing you out than that, buddy boy."

"God, Starsky. At least let my parents get to know you before you say anything like that in front of them." If it were possible for Hutch to blush any harder, Starsky would have liked to see it. Refraining from giving in to the impulse to try, Starsky patted Hutch's cheek and reached to open his door. "Starsk?" Starsky turned back.

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Remember that. In spite of anything that might happen in the next while, remember that I love you more than life itself." All Starsky could do was nod at the intense look on his partner's face and watch him climb out of the car.

Hutch waved at the house and went around to the trunk to get their bags. Starsky got out and walked back to help him. Just as he reached the trunk, the front door flew open and a pretty blonde girl ran down the steps from the front door and raced to the car.

"Ken! Hey, Ken!" Hutch turned in surprise at the sound of his name.

"Rickie!"

Starsky stood back and watched the enthusiastic way the girl wrapped herself around his partner. He was surprised at the little thrill of jealousy that swept over him and was more than a little shocked at the voice in his head snarling, "Back off, sister. He's mine."

He managed to compose his face before the hugging stopped and Hutch turned back to him. Keeping one arm around the girl - Starsky realized that she could not be more than eighteen - Hutch smiled broadly at his partner.

"Starsk, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Rickie Lundstrom. Rickie, this ugly guy is my partner, David Starsky."

"Cousin, huh? Guess we know which side of the family got all the looks, don't we?" Much relieved, Starsky felt more gracious towards the young lady who had such a proprietary arm around his partner's waist. Shaking the offered hand, he smiled benignly at her. "Pleased to meet you, Rickie. Hutch never told me he had such pretty relatives."

Rickie blushed as prettily as Hutch did. "Thank you, Mr. Starsky. Ken has told us so much about you, I feel like I've known you all my life."

"Hey - knock off the 'Mr. Starsky' stuff. You call me David or Dave. Heck, you can even call me Starsky if you want to. I don't mind." Starsky found himself liking this girl who looked so much like his partner now that he had the chance to look her over. Tall, coming to just below his chin, Rickie had long white blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Wearing no makeup, a plain t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and sneakers, she could have posed for a "girl-next-door" advertisement. Her blue eyes, almost as pale as Hutch's, sparkled with laughter as she looked from her tall cousin to his partner.

"Okay. I don't feel right calling you by just your last name, but I've always liked the name David. If that's okay?" She looked up at Hutch for approval.

"You can call him just about anything, Rickie-tikki. Just as long as it's not 'late for supper'." Hutch laughed at his own joke. Ignoring the mock frown that Starsky aimed at him, Hutch let his cousin go and turned back to the trunk. Hauling out Starsky's two cases, he passed them to his partner.

Holding on to his own bags, Hutch locked eyes with Starsky. "Well, partner. Rickie was the easy one. You ready to meet my parents?"

Swallowing around the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, Starsky nodded. "Yep, if they're ready to meet me. I'm right beside ya, partner." Where I'll spend the rest of my life, God willing.

***

Rickie ran ahead of the two men and held the door for them. Shouting past them, her voice seemed to echo in the large foyer. "Aunt Helen. Uncle Richard. They're he-re!" Starsky smiled at the way she raised and lowered her voice on the last word.

"They were in the kitchen the last time I saw them. Just leave your stuff here and we'll go and see if we can round them up." Hutch and Starsky looked at each other and shrugged. Piling their luggage in a corner out of the way of the door, they followed Rickie's swinging ponytail down the hallway towards the back of the house.

They entered a kitchen that took Starsky's breath away. All gleaming enamel and highly polished wood, the room was huge. A refrigerator big enough to store food for a small nation stood in one corner. A stove with two ovens held court in the middle of a long counter. More pots and pans than he had ever seen before, and other things he could not even begin to guess the use of, hung from a large overhead rack or lined the counters. A table nestled in a bay window completed the picture. He was in love.

Rickie looked around the room. "Hmm, they're not here. Maybe they went out into the backyard. Uncle Richard was going to barbecue some steaks for you guys on the deck. Maybe that's where they are. Why don't I get you something cold to drink and you go on out and see if they're there."

Shooing the partners toward the door, Rickie turned her back on them and headed for the refrigerator. The partners once again shrugged and followed orders. Hutch reached the door first and held it open for Starsky. Starsky smiled at him and stepped out onto the deck. Because he was paying more attention to how the evening sunlight made Hutch's eyes shine, he did not notice what was in the yard until he saw those eyes widen and he turned around.

"Surprise!" Starsky took an involuntary step back and bumped into his partner. In the yard before him was a small crowd of people. All laughing at the expressions on the two men's faces. And more than half of them all blond, blue-eyed, and looking far too much like Hutch for Starsky's equilibrium.

"Hutch?" Starsky's whisper was drowned out by the noise the crowd was making. Satisfied with their surprise, they turned back to what they had been doing before the guests of honor showed up, which was laying waste to the huge spread laid out on folding tables under a large oak tree to one side of the yard. Two people separated themselves from the crowd and made their way to the pair standing half-in and half-out of the kitchen doorway.

Hutch stepped around Starsky and walked to the edge of the top of the deck stairs to greet his approaching parents. Starsky recognized them from pictures Hutch had shown him over the years. Richard Hutchinson was not quite as tall as his son, but had obviously passed on his square jaw and large build to his progeny. Helen Hutchinson was more delicately made, but her fine blonde hair and pale blue eyes matched Hutch's. To the watching Starsky, the three of them made a lovely picture as Hutch hugged first his mother, then shook hands with his father.

Putting an arm around the shoulders of his parents, Hutch turned back to Starsky. "Mom, Dad. I'd like you to meet Star...David. My partner. Starsk, my parents." They all smiled shyly at each other for a moment until a firm hand at Starsky's back pushed him forward.

"They're not going to bite, David." Rickie teasingly told him. "They've been pacing the floor all day waiting for you to show up."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You don't know how long we've wanted to meet you, David." Mrs. Hutchinson smiled at him. "And now, here you are. You know, Ken, you never told me what a sweet smile he has. Or how nicely he blushes."

"Well, Mom, some things you just have to see for yourself." Hutch stood back as his mother enveloped his partner in a hug. Starsky looked at Hutch over the lady's shoulder and grinned at the wink Hutch gave him. Then he was too busy shaking hands with his partner's father and being dragged around the backyard meeting an assortment of aunts, uncles, cousins, one sister, her husband, and their off-spring to pay much more attention to Hutch. There were neighbors, friends, and business associates of the senior Hutchinsons as well as a few old schoolmates of Hutch's mixed into the crowd.

By the time Starsky and Hutch met up again, an hour had passed and both men had eaten their way through a buffet the likes of which Starsky had never seen. Leaning on the deck railing, the partners watched as the combination Bon Voyage - Welcome to Duluth party guests enjoyed the warm evening. Although it was far more humid than he was used to, Starsky enjoyed being able to breathe in air not tainted by LA's ever-present smog.

"So, Starsk. What do you think of the Hutchinson clan?" Hutch leaned on one elbow and looked over at Starsky. Starsky, mesmerized by how the little lights strung around the deck and in the trees reflected in Hutch's hair, had to shake himself before he could concentrate on the answer.

"Well, they're not as loud as a Starsky family gathering, the food's a lot different, and your people are far more polite than mine. In spite of that, I'd say that our families are pretty much the same. Except for the hair. The only blondes in my family are the ones who've married in. Or found it in a bottle." Starsky grinned at Hutch and slid a hand a little closer to where Hutch's lay on the deck railing. "Never saw so many blondes in one place before and so many different shades. I'll tell ya, it's enlightening." He ducked the smack aimed at his head. Catching the hand that swung by him, Starsky pulled Hutch a little closer.

"The one thing I keep thinking, though, is when are all these people going home so we can get some sleep? I mean, I know it's what? Two hours difference with back home, but bed sounds awfully good to me about now." Starsky stepped a little closer to Hutch, close enough that he could almost hear his partner's heart beating. "Aren't you about ready for bed too, Hutch?"

Whatever answer Hutch was about to come up with was derailed by the arrival of Mrs. Hutchinson. "Boys, what are you two conspiring about?" She stood with one hand on the stair railing, looking cool and motherly in the light spilling from a kitchen window.

Moving apart, the partners turned to face her. Starsky, praying that his red face was not evident in the low light, grinned at her. "Oh, nothing. Just comparing notes on families. I was just telling Hutch that your family is a lot more polite than mine. By this time, my Aunt Ida would have found out everything about Hutch including his hat size and where he went to summer camp. Your family just smiles, tells me how happy they are to meet me, and goes about being nice. It's kind of a pleasant experience."

Hutch poked Starsky with his elbow. "Yeah, I've spent a few interesting visits at his Aunt Rosie's place. You get two or more Starskys together and you'd think you were in the middle of a riot. They all talk at the top of their lungs...." Starsky punched Hutch on the arm.

"Hey! We aren't that bad. Don't let him try and kid ya, Mrs. Hutchinson. He can get pretty boisterous when he lets all that blond hair down."

Mrs. Hutchinson laughed at the antics of the men. "You boys are so silly. And, David, please call me Helen. None of Ken's friends have called me Mrs. Hutchinson since they were in high school." She stepped up onto the deck and came to wrap her arms around each of their waists. "Now, before it gets any later, I'm going to show you two where your rooms are. I imagine you're tired after that long trip. I know you're still on LA time, but if you want to retire early, no one's going to be upset."

Hutch and Starsky looked at each other over her head and grinned self-consciously. "Well, we'd hate to break up the party, Mom." Hutch said as his mother walked them towards the door.

"Nonsense. Some of these people won't leave until the last piece of food is gone and the only thing left to drink is tap water. Which by the look of things is probably only a couple more hours, anyway. Now, I'll show you to the rooms and you two can decide who takes what."

Helen gave Starsky an abbreviated tour of the house as she led the partners upstairs. They stopped to gather the luggage from the foyer and once to direct a rather inebriated guest to a bathroom. "It's a good thing he lives at the end of the block because he's in no shape to drive." Helen whispered to Hutch and Starsky as they all watched the man weave back down the hallway. They finally arrived at the end of the hallway on the second floor.

Throwing open a door, Helen ushered them in. "Now this room and the one next-door share a bathroom. I thought that you wouldn't mind that. We've pretty much closed up the rest of the rooms up here, but left these for last. Richard and I thought you could take care of these for us, Ken." Taking his nod as agreement, she showed them where the extra towels and bed linens were stashed and how the bathroom doors locked.

Satisfied that she had done her duty as hostess and mother; Helen stood in the doorway of the first bedroom and smiled. "Get yourselves settled, then come back down to the party. Karl - that's my brother and Erica's father," This last to Starsky, "wants to give Richard and me a present for our trip. What he has in mind, I don't have any idea, but you know your Uncle Karl." With a little wave, she turned and was gone.

Starsky plopped down on the edge of the king-sized bed and puffed out a breath. "Wow, does your mom ever slow down?"

"Never known her to unless she was sick. And that didn't happen too often. So, partner which room do you want?" Hutch leaned against the wall next to the door and avoided Starsky's eyes.

"Hutch? What's wrong?" Starsky was not sure he liked the look on his partner's face. Nor did he like the distance between them - the physical one or the emotional one that suddenly seemed there.

"Nothing." Hutch glanced up from his perusal of his shoe. "Actually, that's not true. Starsk, all of a sudden, I'm wondering if this is such a good idea."

No, Starsky did not like any of this at all. "What's not such a good idea, Hutch? Are you having second thoughts about us?" Oh, God. Is it over before it's even begun? Starsky stared in bewilderment at the stiff figure across the room.

Hutch jerked away from the wall and was in front of Starsky in a couple of quick strides. Sinking to his knees, Hutch grabbed one of Starsky's hands and laid it against his chest. "Not for one minute, Starsk. Not for one minute. And don't you ever think that. Ever." He looked down at their entwined hands then back up into Starsky's eyes. "I'm talking about telling my parents, now, about us. I keep getting mixed signals from them. One minute I think that they've already figured it out, then the next that it would kill them."

Starsky felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe and Hutch had reminded him. They stayed like that, Starsky on the bed, Hutch leaning against his knees, staring into each other's eyes for a long minute. Hutch began to lean forward, very slowly, and Starsky found himself being drawn towards that beloved face. They were only inches away from their first real kiss and Starsky's heart was beating so hard, he could hear it vibrate through the room.

Then he realized the beating was actually someone banging on the closed door quickly followed by Rickie's voice. "Hey - you guys in there?" The partners stared at each other in disbelief; then Hutch burst out laughing. Laying his head against Starsky's chest for a minute, he shook with helpless giggles.

"I don't believe it. I don't frigging well believe it." Hutch pulled back from Starsky and wiped tears from his eyes. "We don't have to worry about telling my parents anything. This bloody family isn't going to leave us alone long enough to hold hands let alone make out." Pulling himself to his feet, Hutch patted Starsky on the shoulder and yelled at the door. "Yeah, we're in here. Give us a minute, will ya."

Starsky was in shock. Or something that felt darn close to withdrawal pains. He had come so close to experiencing something he had only dreamed of, and it had been snatched away at the last second. His stomach hurt. Or maybe the pain was a bit lower. He could only nod at the whispered, "You okay?" as Hutch reached for the doorknob and let his cousin in.

"Sorry to bother you guys, but Dad said to round up the family as he wants to make some kind of presentation. You feeling all right, David? You look kind of green." Rickie looked with concern at Starsky hunched over on the bed trying to will his body to reconnect with the brain in his head.

"Yeah. Fine. Think maybe I ate too much after all that flying. Or something." Starsky tried for pitiable instead of pathetic.

"You poor man. Did you eat some of those Swedish meatballs? I've told Auntie Julie she's going to kill someone one day with all the grease she uses to cook those things." Rickie's eyes were sympathetic. "You want a seltzer or something?"

Hutch, picking up on the ruse, interrupted. "That's okay, short stuff. That's what we were doing. I was just giving him something for his stomach. You run along and tell Uncle Karl we'll be right down." He almost pushed the girl out the door and gently shut it behind her. Leaning against the door, Hutch shook his head. "God, buddy. One more close call like that and we'll be out to the whole damn family. I think we'd better cool it until it's at least only us and my parents in the house."

Starsky was pretty sure that he could stand up now. "Yeah. I guess we should just try and stay apart for the rest of the party. It's too hard," he winced at the bad pun, "to be close to you without giving in to it. I want to wrap myself around you so bad every time I look at you I'm beginning to get worried that everyone will see it." He convinced his body to straighten up. "Guess we should go see what Uncle Karl's up to and pretend that nothing's going on. Lord, that's going to be tough."

"I know, partner. I feel the same way. What's say we just try and get through this evening and see what happens tomorrow? Maybe we can set up a rendezvous or something." Hutch waggled one lecherous eyebrow at the grinning Starsky.

"Stop that. Yeah. Tomorrow, high noon. Right here." Starsky pointed at the bed. Laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation, the partners left the room and went down the stairs to join the rest of the group.

*****

Another couple of hours passed and the party was starting to wind down. Most of the adults over thirty had adjourned to the warmth and comfort of the living room leaving the backyard and mosquitoes to the teenagers and those who thought they still were.

Still trying to avoid each other, Hutch had settled in the living room, deep in conversation with another of his relatives and Starsky had gone outside. Leaning once again on the deck railing, he watched the gyrations of the younger people dancing below. Sighing softly to himself, he thought back fondly to when he was still in his early twenties. A time when the only thing he had to worry about was his next conquest and staying one step ahead of the draft board.

I'd never want to be that young again. He thought. Not unless I knew what I know now. And not unless I had Hutch. The very thought of his partner made him warm.

"You look kind of wistful." A soft voice at his elbow broke into the developing fantasy of him and Hutch on a deserted island with nothing between them but sunscreen and a little sand.

Barely refraining from jumping, Starsky turned to look at the girl standing beside him. Trying to remember a name, he smiled. Cindy? Connie? Chris? Yeah, Chris. "Chris, isn't it?"

The smile he received was a pretty one. If she had not been so obviously young and he so very much in love, he might have tried to pursue it. However....

"Yes, and you're Rickie's cousin's partner. Right?" Chris threw her long dark hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand. "I remember a couple of years ago when Rickie brought this scrapbook to school that she'd made of her cousin Ken and his partner. Had all these news clippings and stuff. Was that you?" She laid a small hand on his arm.

Starsky decided that if he did not overreact to the girl, she would soon lose interest. "Yep, that was me and Hutch. I didn't know Rickie had kept a scrapbook. I'll have to ask her if she's still got it." He watched the girl flirt with him and had to smile to himself. Here he was, practically old enough to be her father and she was coming on to him. Her practiced gestures and the way she leaned seductively against the railing made him nervous and not just because he had no interest in her. She was so obviously an innocent trying to appear older and worldlier than her years. Something that could get her into trouble and Starsky knew she was not mature enough to handle it.

"It's a pretty night, isn't it? Of course it's a lot different from LA, I imagine." Chris stood a little closer to him and looked up at the night sky. Her long black hair shimmered in the lights scattered around the yard and she looked very young and pretty in that faint light. "It must be difficult meeting so many people all at once. Some of Rickie's family can be pretty intimidating. I know Mr. Hutchinson always scares me. Is that why you came out here instead of staying with them?" Chris glanced over at him, her eyes shining dark in the gloom.

"No, just wanted some fresh air before I turned in. Hutch and I had a long trip and we've got a lot of work ahead helping his parents." He carefully stepped away so that they weren't standing so close together and her hand was no longer on his arm. This young girl was definitely making him nervous. In part because she was so young and pretty. But mostly because he'd always responded to young and pretty as naturally as breathing and now it seemed alien not to.

"You want to come down and dance with us? I bet you're a good dancer. I bet being from California, you know all the new dances. Not like those guys down there." She pointed with her chin in disdain at the teenage boys below them.

"How old are you, Chris?" Starsky asked as gently as he could.

"I'll be seventeen by the end of summer. But I'm very mature for my age. Not like those children down there." Chris did not realize that her pout made her look very much like the youngest of those children jumping around to the music.

"That may be so, but I draw the limit at girls under twenty-five. Surely there's some nice young man down there who you'd rather spend time with than an old fossil like me." He smiled to take the sting out. Unfortunately, it only encouraged her.

"Oh, they're just boys. I haven't been interested in boys for years. I like men. Men who can carry on a conversation about more than sports and cars. Men who know how to treat a woman." She batted her eyelashes at him, trying to look seductive.

Oboy, little girl, have you ever picked the wrong guy!

"Honey, you seem to be a very sweet girl. And one day you'll meet some young man who will treat you as if you're the most special person in the universe. But I'm not that guy and you shouldn't be rushing things like that anyway. Enjoy being a kid, because being an adult isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

"But I'm tired of being a kid. I want to experience life and do things. Go interesting places and meet interesting people." Chris sounded as if she was being held captive by her adolescence.

"I know. I remember being seventeen and wanting nothing more than to be on my own and answering to no one but myself. But believe me, there are times when I'd give anything to be seventeen again and not have to worry about more than whether I got my homework done or not. You'll be all grown up before you know it and you'll wonder what the great rush was." Starsky leaned sideways against the railing and reached out a hand to cup the girl's chin. She looked at him with eyes gone wide and innocent.

"Chris, forget trying to grow up before you have to, and enjoy what you've got now. Believe me, there's nothing at all glamorous about getting up and going to work every morning, worrying about paying the bills or keeping one step ahead of your boss. What you have right now is what most of us adults wish we still had. Freedom. It's something that you'll lose soon enough. Believe me." He felt suddenly very old, and very tired and more than a little sad. Starsky was not sure whom he was sadder for, the young girl in front of him yearning to throw aside the yoke of childhood or himself for having lost it.

Something in the way she looked at him made him feel very paternal and protective. A feeling he had never experienced before. Giving in to impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Go and have fun with your friends, sweetheart. Forget about old men like me and be young while you can." He released her chin and turned his back on her. Walking towards the kitchen doorway, he felt a wave of tiredness rush through him and wondered, not for the first time, when he had gotten so old. Or maybe it was that he had finally started to grow up. He was not sure.

***

Starsky stood just out of sight of most of the people in the living room, hoping to spot his partner. Maybe attract his attention and get him to leave the party with him. He finally spotted Hutch standing beside the unlit fireplace, holding a drink in one hand and gesturing with the other as he talked with his father. Not wanting to disturb them, Starsky left his observation spot and went up the stairs. He hoped that no one would think badly of him for disappearing from the party, but he really didn't feel like talking to anyone else tonight.

Since Gunther, Starsky tired quicker than he used to. The doctors had warned him that his old ability to work hard all day, party all night, and continue that for days on end, was gone. That the beating his body, and especially his heart, had undergone had taken that away forever. He might be able to carry it off for a day or two, but when he reached his limit, he had better learn to listen to his body. Tonight his body was screaming at him. Feeling like he had run into a brick wall, Starsky made his slow way up the stairs and to the two bedrooms at the end of the hall.

The rooms formed a lopsided L-shape with the bathroom at the juncture of the two lines. Starsky and Hutch had left all the bags in the first bedroom Helen had shown them - the one on the long end of the L. Starsky entered the room and looked at the bed; imagined his partner lying there and wondered if he should stay here. No, Hutch might feel funny about me being in the bed when he got here. Might make him uncomfortable.

Gathering up his luggage, he dragged his bags through the bathroom and into the other bedroom. It too was furnished with a king-sized bed. A chest of drawers against one wall, a small desk and chair under the window, and two nightstands with lamps completed the décor. Pleasantly painted in a pale blue with good art on the walls, it was without doubt the nicest guestroom Starsky had ever seen.

Heaving the larger bag up onto the chair, Starsky fished out his bathrobe, a dark blue one Hutch gave him last Christmas to replace the one he had worn out while convalescing. Hutch had told him, even then, that the color matched his eyes. Throwing the robe on the bed, Starsky opened the smaller bag and took out his shaving kit. Armed with the necessary bedtime requirements of toothbrush and pajama bottoms, he headed for the bathroom.

Coming back into his room, Starsky could not help but think how lonely that great big bed looked. Lonely and cold. Sighing at the unfairness of a life that could allow two people to fall madly in love then conspire to keep them apart, he turned off all but one bedside light and crawled into that cold, lonely bed. He lay there for a minute, thinking about how much he missed Hutch, then turned off the light, and closed his eyes.

***

Starsky woke with a start. Bewildered for a moment by the unfamiliar bed and the unknown noises of a strange house, he lay tense, listening. Then relaxed when he realized what had awoken him was Hutch moving quietly in the bathroom. Starsky had left the door on his side of the bathroom open a crack. A thin thread of light seeped through that crack along with the sounds of Hutch's own bedtime ritual. Comforted to know that Hutch was only a few feet away, Starsky turned over and settled down to go back to sleep.

Only to find himself exhausted but wide-awake. Lying in the dark, listening to Hutch turn off the light, and go into the other bedroom. Starsky listened to the bed creak as Hutch lay his long-limbed body down on it. Laid there imagining Hutch curling over on his side, wrapping the blankets around him hugging a pillow close under his chin. Envisioning Hutch's blond hair glistening in the faint starshine trickling through the curtains, those long limbs stretched out across the surface of the bed, warm and strong.

Suddenly, Starsky could not stand being apart from his partner one more minute. Not one more second.

Crawling out of his own bed, Starsky crept through the bathroom and reached the door to Hutch's room to realize that Hutch had not closed his door either. Smiling to himself, Starsky pushed the door open further and entered Hutch's room.

Hutch lay just as Starsky had imagined, all silvery and golden in the faint light. He lay on his side, facing the window, eyes closed, one hand under the pillow beneath his head, the other hand lying palm up on top of the blankets. The mound of one shoulder mysterious under the blankets, the long length of body flowing in perfect symmetry from that shoulder to disappear in the puddle of darkness at the end of the bed.

Starsky approached the bed stealthily. He carefully lifted the blanket from where it draped over the edge of the mattress and eased himself under it. Inching towards Hutch, he gently grasped the hand lying open on the covers and laid its arm across his back. Starsky snuggled close to the big warm body and closed his eyes.

"Huh?" A sleepy voice rumbled in his ears. "Starsky, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, Hutch. Go back to sleep." Starsky opened his eyes again, and placed a tired hand on the face looking down at him.

Hutch, leaning on one elbow, peered down at Starsky through sleep-hazed eyes. Blinking drowsily, he just looked. "Starsk, I'm too tired to do anything tonight. As nice as the thought is...."

"I just want to sleep with you. I'm beyond tired, partner. Please let me sleep in here tonight."

"Why?" Hutch moved his hand off of Starsky's back and cupped Starsky's cheek.

"I missed you. That bed was too damn lonely and I missed you. Isn't that reason enough? Go to sleep, Hutch. Let me have this much of you tonight. Please?"

Hutch smiled down at him. Leaning forward, he brushed a chaste kiss on Starsky's forehead and lay back down. "Okay, babe. I can handle that. And hopefully tomorrow night we can do more than just sleep together." He wrapped his arm back around Starsky and drew him close. Contented that he was safe with the person he loved, Starsky soon fell asleep.

***

A soft but persistent knocking woke Starsky. Blinking, he looked at Hutch and grinned to note his partner was still fast asleep. Trying to ignore the person on the other side of the door, he peered over Hutch's shoulder at Hutch's traveling alarm clock on the nightstand. Surprised to see that it was seven-thirty, he sank back down beside his somnolent bedmate.

But the knocking did not stop, and it was joined by an equally soft and persistent voice. "Ken. Ken, wake up dear. I need to talk to you."

Shit, it's Helen. "Hutch, wake up. Hutch, damn it - it's your mother at the door. Wake up." Starsky hissed at Hutch and shook him hard.

"Wha...? Stop it, Starsk...." A firm hand over Hutch's mouth served to both quiet and wake him.

"Shh. Your mom is out there and if you don't want her to find us in bed together, you'd better answer her. And quick." Starsky whispered. Rolling out of the bed, he beat a quiet and hasty retreat to the bathroom. As he was closing the door, he heard Hutch call out to Helen that he was awake and would be right there.

Grinning to himself, Starsky decided he might as well shower and get dressed. Whatever family emergency prompted Helen to wake up her son so early would probably require him too, so he might as well be prepared. Good thing Helen's not like my mother. Ma would have walked right in.

Starsky had barely gotten his hair wet when the shower curtain opened at the far end of the tub and Hutch's worried face appeared. "Hey, partner. Coming in?" Starsky joked through the warm spray.

"Starsky, finish up and get dressed. Come downstairs to the kitchen." Hutch's strained voice wiped the smile from Starsky's face.

"What's the matter? What's going on, Hutch?" Starsky turned off the faucets and stared at his partner while the water cooled on his body.

Hutch looked sick. And scared.

"There're police detectives downstairs and they want to talk to you."

A thousand thoughts chased each other around in Starsky's head. Police? In this house, wanting to talk to him? The first thought that lay still long enough for him to look at it was about his mother. "Ma? Did something happen to my mother?" Dobey knew where the two of them were staying and his whole family knew that if they could not reach him at home, or at Hutch's, that the next best place was the station.

"Mom didn't say. Just said that there were two police detectives downstairs and that they wanted to talk to you. She said that they wouldn't tell her anything. You know that's SOP, Starsk." Hutch handed him a bath towel. "Here, dry off and get dressed. I'll throw some clothes on and go down with you." He disappeared.

Moving as quickly as his shaking hands allowed, Starsky gave himself a sketchy rubdown. Throwing the towel on the floor he headed for his room and pulled on clean jeans and a t-shirt. He could only find one of the shoes he had worn last night, so he thought, screw it and went barefoot. Going back through the bathroom he entered Hutch's room in time to find his partner tying his own shoes.

Wordlessly, Hutch patted Starsky's shoulder and walked beside him down the hall, down the stairs, and down the other hallway to the kitchen.

The room, bathed in early morning light, smelled of fresh coffee and something newly baked. Hutch's parents sat at the table by the bay window and looked worried. Two strangers in suits leaned against one of the counters and looked bored. They stood straight when the partners entered the room. Richard Hutchinson, his face pale from lack of sleep, gestured towards Hutch and Starsky. "This is my son, Ken and his friend David Starsky. Now are you going to tell us what this is all about, Detective Inglehart?"

One of the detectives, a tall blond, smiled thinly at Richard, then turned to the partners. "I'm Detective Inglehart and this is my partner, Detective Cruthers." He gestured towards the other detective, a short black man. "We'd like to talk to Mr. Starsky alone."

Starsky looked at Hutch, then back to Inglehart. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can say it in front of Hutch. I've no secrets from him. Or his folks." He steeled himself for the worse. Must be really bad news. They must have sent these two out of brotherly respect or something.

Inglehart glanced at his own partner. "I don't think this is something you'd want to discuss in front of others, Mr. Starsky. We need to question you concerning a police matter." His voice was hard, not sympathetic, as Hutch's or Starsky's would have been if they were about to deliver news of a family member's death.

"Just what kind of 'police matter' are we talking about here, gentlemen? We just got in last night, and except for the trip from the airport, we've been here since our plane landed." Hutch's voice was cold. Starsky could tell that his partner did not like what was going on and was beginning to get defensive. He lay a quieting hand on Hutch's arm.

"What my partner is trying to say is that we're willing to cooperate if you'd just explain what is going on." Smiling his most innocent smile, Starsky stepped a little closer to Hutch, hoping to control his headstrong partner, knowing that if Hutch blew up, they would never learn anything.

"Very well, but remember that you're the one who refused to do this quietly." Inglehart drew out a small notebook and flipped it open. Referring to it, he asked, "Do you know a Chris Vetter?"

Shaking his head, Starsky looked at Hutch. Hutch appeared as perplexed as he did. "No, I don't think so. I don't remember any Vetter involved in any of our cases, do you Hutch?"

"What do you mean, 'our cases'?" Cruthers interrupted Hutch's reply.

Starsky and Hutch exchanged puzzled glances. "I thought you knew. I thought that was the reason you're here." Starsky looked at Cruthers.

"Mr. Starsky, you're beginning to tire me. Know what?" Inglehart moved closer to Starsky, trying to get inside his "space" and intimidate him. A trick Starsky had used many times himself. Unfortunately for Inglehart, Starsky did not intimidate easily.

"Hutch and I are police detectives - sergeants - with the Metro Division in LA. If you're not here about one of our cases, or about a family matter, what the hell do you want with me?" It was Hutch's turn to lay a restraining hand on Starsky. The large hand gripped his shoulder, lending a little reassurance. "Excuse me, Helen. I apologize for swearing."

"That's all right, David. And Chris Vetter is one of the neighborhood girls. She and her parents were at the party last evening. Laura Vetter and I golf together at the country club." Helen came to stand beside her son and his friend. "Detective Inglehart, what happened to Chris? She was perfectly fine when I saw her late last night."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hutchinson. We'll be questioning you and your husband in a few minutes. But we'd like to talk to your houseguest first. Now, Mr. Starsky," Inglehart's voice held a slight sneer when he said "Mr." and the look on his face was one of disdain. "Do you, or do you not, admit to knowing Chris Vetter?"

"Wait. Helen, is Chris about so high," Starsky held his hand at chest height, "with long, black hair? Sixteen or so?" At Helen's nod, he turned back to the Duluth detectives. "Yes, I know who she is. I talked to her for a few minutes last night. Why, what's happened to her?"

"What did you two talk about?" Cruthers asked.

"I don't know. She asked if I was Hutch's partner. I guess she goes to school with Hutch's cousin, Rickie. She asked me if I wanted to dance and I told her no. We talked about a few other things, then I went back into the house. I supposed, if I thought about it at all, that she'd gone to dance with the other kids." Starsky remembered Chris's innocent eyes and feared the worst.

"What did you do after you went back into the house, Mr. Starsky?" Inglehart again.

"I looked to see what Hutch was doing. He was talking to his dad and I didn't want to interrupt. So I went upstairs and to bed."

"Did anyone see you go up the stairs? And what time was that?" Cruthers. Starsky knew what they were doing. He and Hutch used the "tennis match" method themselves to confuse a perp. His palms started to sweat.

"I don't know if anyone saw me or not. I know I didn't see anyone. As for the time, I'm not sure. Sometime around ten, I guess."

"Can anyone verify that you went to bed, Mr. Starsky?" Inglehart.

"Well, if you're asking me if I had anyone with me - no." Starsky was beginning to get a little miffed.

"Why did you go to bed so early? After all, it's two hours difference between here and Los Angeles. It would have only been about eight your time." Cruthers.

"I was tired."

"Why?"

Starsky had felt the pressure building up in Hutch through the hand that had slipped from his shoulder to rest on his back. He was half-expecting the explosion when it happened, but was still not prepared for it.

"My partner, Mr. Inglehart, was severely injured last year in the line of duty and is still suffering residual effects from it. We had a heavy caseload that we were required to work many hours of over-time on in the last few days in order to make this trip which, I might add, was long and tiring all on its own. If Starsky says he was tired, then he was tired. My partner does not make a habit of lying." Hutch's tone was the one that the people who knew him hated. It meant he was beyond angry. Most people knew to leave, and fast, when Hutch got like this.

Starsky leaned into the hand on his back. "It's okay, Hutch. They're just doing their job. It'll be fine." Calm down, partner. Starsky hoped that his message got through. He was interested to note that Helen calmly put her arm around Hutch's waist and laid her head against his arm. He felt some of the tension bleed out of the hand connecting the three of them.

"You still haven't told us what this is all about, Detective. What happened to Chris and is she all right?" Starsky was proud of himself at how calm he sounded.

"We'll get to that in a few minutes. We're still trying to establish your whereabouts. Now, did you leave your room for any reason at all after you went to bed at ten." Inglehart picked up the questioning as if Hutch hadn't said a word. Starsky knew that the outburst had been filed away for future reference. But Inglehart had just asked the one question Starsky had hoped not to be asked.

Oh Lord. Now how do I explain this one? "I got up once to go to the bathroom. But the bathroom and my bedroom are connected. Hutch's and my room share it. So I guess you could say that, no, I didn't leave my room all night." There, the truth. Even if it is a bit fudged.

Cruthers looked at Hutch. "What time did you go to bed, Mr. Hutchinson?"

Hutch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know for sure. The last of the guests left around midnight. I guess it was about twelve thirty or so. Give or take a few minutes."

"Did you notice if Mr. Starsky was in his room when you arrived in yours?" Inglehart.

"Yes. He'd left his bathroom door slightly ajar and I looked in. He was fast asleep."

"Could you tell if he'd been there long?" Cruthers.

"He was asleep. That's all I can tell you. But like I said, if Starsky said he went to bed around ten, you can lay book on it." Hutch still sounded angry but at least he was in control again.

Inglehart. "Gambling's illegal in Minnesota, Mr. Hutchinson. What time, previous to noting he was in bed, did you last see or speak to Mr. Starsky?"

Starsky pressed back harder on that hand. Stay calm, Hutch. You know he's only trying to rattle ya.

Hutch ran his hand up Starsky's back to just below his shoulder blade. The message loud and clear - I'm okay. Don't worry. "I'm not sure. Mom had taken us upstairs to show us our rooms about seven thirty or so, wasn't it, Starsk?" Starsky nodded. "We were there for a bit, talking. Then my cousin Rickie came to get us because my Uncle Karl wanted to do a little presentation to my parents. They're leaving in a few days on an extended vacation. I guess that was about eight. After that, Starsky and I went different ways. I saw him a few times, but didn't speak to him. I can't say for positive the last time I saw him before he went up to sleep. I didn't see him again until I went up to bed."

Cruthers. "You're sure of your times, Mr. Hutchinson? You didn't see Mr. Starsky between eleven and midnight?"

"No. But if he said he was in bed, asleep, then that's where he was."

"That's too bad. If you could have established an alibi for him, while it wouldn't have exonerated him, it would have helped him." Inglehart tapped his notebook with the pen he had been scribbling notes with. "Now, Mr. Starsky. When you spoke to Miss Vetter, did you touch her?"

"Huh?" Starsky had to think. Last night seemed a long time ago. "We were talking and, yeah, I guess I touched her. I was trying to make a point and I took her chin in my hand. But I didn't hurt her, just held her head still so she had to look at me."

"Do you like touching young girls, Mr. Starsky?" Cruthers.

Starsky bristled. "Yeah, I like touching girls. Women. But I don't mess with kids. I do have some scruples. She's only sixteen. I wasn't interested in her. If anything, I couldn't stop thinking that I was old enough to be her father. I was feeling down right ancient last night." He tried a smile, but neither of the other two detectives paid any attention.

"So, what you're telling us is that you like girls you could be old enough to be the father of? Is that what you're telling us, Mr. Starsky?"

"Of all the sick, twisted...." It took both Starsky and Helen to restrain Hutch.

Richard came up and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. The three Hutchinsons presented an united front as they stood with Starsky in their midst, enveloping him in their protection. "I think it's about time you tell us what's going on, detectives. David is a guest in our house, and has been friends and partners with our son for over ten years. None of us appreciates your insinuations especially since you haven't told us why you are making them. What happened to Chris Vetter?" Richard's voice held the same quality of restrained violence that Hutch's had earlier. But his was flatter, more controlled. And all the more frightening for it.

Inglehart looked from the group in the middle of the kitchen to his partner then back. "All right. Sometime between eleven and midnight, Chris Vetter was attacked and taken out into the fields behind this house. She was beaten and raped. Luckily, she survived and was able to identify her rapist. She says it was you, Mr. Starsky."

Everyone was talking - loudly - and all at the same time. Everyone except Starsky and Inglehart. They stood silently and stared at each other.

Rape? Starsky could not think past that ugly word. He held a special contempt for rapists, having seen all too often the aftermath of their work. Not just the broken bodies of their victims, but the ruined psyches left to deal with the ultimate violation. Starsky knew that for many of the victims he had worked with in his time - the women, the children, and the men - that death would have been preferable.

He had been accused of many things over the years. Some of them he was even guilty of. But never this, never anything so ultimately wrong. Starsky felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and hit him full in the chest with it.

He realized he was not breathing right.

Strong hands grabbed him and he found himself sitting on a chair with a glass of water pressed to his lips. "Drink, Starsky." Words that only made sense because Hutch said them prompted him, and he obeyed. The water almost choked him before he remembered how to swallow, and then he found that he could breathe again.

Looking up into his partner's worried eyes; Starsky could only feel bewilderment. "I didn't...."

"I know you didn't do it, Starsk. I know you didn't. We'll prove you innocent." Hutch was on his knees beside Starsky. All Starsky seemed to be able to make himself do was stare into those clear blue eyes staring back at him. "You okay now, babe?" Hutch whispered the last, his hand trembling against Starsky's back.

Starsky could not figure out why everyone was staring at him or why he felt dizzy. But he knew why he was scared. Rape. Oh, God. And his chest started to hurt again. Arms wrapped around him and cradled his head against a shoulder.

"I think he should lie down for a minute. Mom? Is that couch still in the office?" Hutch's voice rumbled against Starsky's cheek, but he could not make his mind work around the words. He heard a woman's voice say something and then he was being drawn to his feet. "C'mon, buddy. I'm going to take you into the next room." He tried to think about making his legs work. Luckily, instinct set in and he was able to stumble along beside Hutch across the kitchen and through a door into a small room. Hutch sat him gently down again and then urged him to lie down.

"Hutch, I don't need...."

"Starsky, shut up. Let me be the judge of this. You didn't see how you looked out there." Hutch pushed another cushion under Starsky's head to join the one already there. "You've had a shock, and with that on top of being worn out, your brain must have decided to take a hike." He pulled a plaid blanket from the back of the couch and spread it on Starsky. "You just lie there for a minute and let your body and your brain reconnect for a bit. Dad's calling Uncle Karl and Katie's husband, Dennis. You're not to move or talk until they get here."

"Why? And Hutch, I'm fine. Honest." Starsky attempted to sit up to prove his point and was very glad that Hutch's hand was there to ease him back down as the world swam around him.

"That's why. Listen, you moron," Hutch dropped to his knees beside the couch and spoke quietly. "Those two turkeys out there are determined to prove you guilty. Uncle Karl is the best defense attorney in this state. Now I know you didn't do anything, but it won't hurt to have a lawyer around if those jerks try to start something. And it might keep me from being brought up on assault charges." Hutch smiled grimily. "As for Dennis, he's a doctor. We might as well keep this in the family."

Starsky closed his eyes trying to stop the nausea that threatened to embarrass him. "Hutch?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Why would she say that I ra..... God, I can't even say the word. Why, Hutch?" Everything was out of control and that was one thing that Starsky always hated. He craved control the way addicts craved dope, especially since the shooting. That event had caused him to lose complete control over even the basics of his life for far too long. And now, it was reaching out its dark fingers and snatching his strength from him when he needed it the most.

Hutch stroked Starsky's head. "I don't know, babe. But I aim to find out." A new loud voice added itself to the noise level in the kitchen, distracting Hutch. "That's Karl. Rest, Starsk, while I go and see what's happening, fill Karl in. Try not to worry, okay? Can I get you anything?" Starsky carefully shook his head "no." Hutch held his hand motionless on Starsky's head for a minute, looking deep into his eyes. He leaned forward, an intense look of something - love - determination - resolve - on his face.

"I love you, Starsky. I'm not going to let them do this to you. Believe me." Hutch's voice was a hoarse whisper. Then he was up and out of the room before Starsky could form a reply.

Feeling totally useless - and scared half out of his mind - Starsky lay on the couch trying to think. But the voices from the kitchen drowned out any hopes of coherent thought. He smiled weakly when he heard Hutch shout for - and get - the attention of the rest of the group.

"Everyone be quiet! Mom, Dad - please, why don't you go into the living room for now? I need to talk to Karl and these two. Oh, and Mom? When Dennis shows, will you send him straight back here? I'll take him into Starsky then." Starsky heard Helen say something in her sweet, light voice and the low rumble of what must have been Richard. Then things got quieter. The low murmur of voices continued, but Starsky could not make out the words. After a while, he drifted into a half sleep.

Starsky had no idea how much time passed as he drowsed fitfully on the office couch. A hand on his forehead and fingers on his wrist wakened him. "Hutch?" He muttered, still partially asleep.

"No, Dave. It's Dennis Aberget. Just lie still and let me do a quick exam here. Are you feeling better? Ken said you fainted." Starsky opened one eye and peered up at the face hovering over him. He remembered this one - Hutch's sister Katie's husband. They had been introduced to each other on the fly last evening.

"I didn't faint." Starsky protested, "I just felt weird for a minute is all. Hutch over-reacted."

"Hmm. So, how are you feeling now?" Dennis took out a stethoscope and laid it against Starsky's chest. He peered off into the distance the way doctors do when they are listening to the inner workings.

"Tired. But fine. Look, is all this really necessary?"

"Yes. I know about what happened to you last year, Dave. When we found out about the shooting, I got in contact with your doctors in LA. They kept me advised of your condition - professional courtesy. I know about your heart and all the rest. I'm going to make sure that we send you back to your Captain in good shape. Besides, I think Ken would kill me if I allowed anything to happen to you. He's out there looking like a mad bulldog. Or maybe a mother eagle with a wounded eaglet." Dennis talked as he examined Starsky. He made Starsky sit up and lift his shirt so that Dennis could put the cold stethoscope against his back. Then Dennis took his patient's blood pressure and looked at his eyes.

Starsky had never experienced such a fast but thorough exam in his life. Dennis sat back in the chair he had pulled up beside the couch. "Well? Am I going to live, doctor?" Starsky asked, only half-kidding, rubbing his arm where the blood pressure cuff had pinched it.

"Oh yes. Your heart sounds fine, your blood pressure and pulse are normal. I'd say that between lack of sleep, no food - you hadn't eaten yet, had you? No? Didn't think so. That and the shock of being accused of something so awful out of the blue like that sent you into a short-lived state of shock. Could happen to anyone." He shifted uncomfortably on the chair, then leaned forward. "Dave, may I be nosy here for just a minute?"

Starsky looked at this man who his partner had entrusted with him. Tall, dark and just homely enough to be comfortable looking, he and Katie appeared to be entirely in love with each other. Starsky remembered listening at one point last night to the two of them joking with Hutch about how great married life was and when was he going to give it another go. Hutch had just smiled and said some smart remark. But Starsky had warmed when Hutch lifted his eyes and searched him out and smiled at him in that way that made his knees weak.

"You can be as nosy as you want. Doesn't mean I have to satisfy your curiosity." Starsky swung his legs off the couch and sat with his head against the couch back wishing that it had all been a dream. That he would walk out into the kitchen and find everything returned to normal.

"True. If I say anything to offend you, I apologize in advance. But we may have a way out of this whole mess without you having to go through any more questioning by those two gorillas in bad suits out there." Starsky found Dennis' description of the detectives amusing as Dennis was as tall as Inglehart, twice as broad through the shoulders, and currently dressed in a three-piece suit.

"I'm open to suggestions at this point. At least until we can find out why that poor kid is lying." Starsky checked to make sure that the office door was closed.

"If you and Ken are...um...exclusive, then I could tell those donkeys that you'd never be interested enough in a woman to rape her. I mean, I know that some gay men are attracted to women as well, but I could probably be pretty convincing from a medical standpoint." Dennis' voice faded off as he realized that his patient was staring at him with his mouth open in shock. "Oh, God. You two aren't...? Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Dave. I just thought that, well...you two just seemed to be so.... Damn."

Starsky felt a wild minute of freedom. Someone knows, and they don't care. But reality set back in. No matter what their intentions were, they were not lovers, not yet. And to tell anyone that they were and make it sound as long-term as Dennis had thought it was would be a lie. And Starsky had never been good at lying when it was personal. Give him a persona for an undercover job or the need to lie to a suspect to get them to tell the truth - fine, no problem. But he would never carry off this kind of lie and he could not ask his partner to do it either. Especially when he still was not sure if Hutch was ready to "come out" to his parents.

And, under the circumstances, this was not the perfect time to come out to anyone. If things went bad - and all indications were that they might just - there may never be a perfect time - for anything.

Dennis was still trying to apologize for his - he thought - erroneous assumption. Starsky took pity on him and leaned forward to pat the man's arm. "It's okay, Dennis. Lots of people have thought lots of things about Hutch and me over the years. You just surprised me because no one's ever came right out and said it so bluntly before." Starsky stopped and sat for a minute as another reality hit home. It was only a matter of time before he and Hutch told Hutch's family the truth. And even if they had not physically consummated their relationship, had not they really been lovers for a long time in all the ways that mattered?

He knew that Dennis was waiting for him to say something. Starsky just was not sure what. But they had to start somewhere and this man was a doctor and as such, sworn to secrecy. And Starsky was to the point where he felt they needed someone on their side that knew the truth. All of it. Starsky decided to take a leap of faith.

"Hutch and I are extremely close, so close sometimes it amazes even us. I'm not sure what you'd call us. Hell, we're not even sure what to call each other. Hutch and I...well, we came to Duluth because Hutch wanted to tell his parents about us. Explain the way it is and the way it's going to be." Starsky looked down at his hands clutching the blanket and forced himself to let go. "Hutch and I have never made love. We only realized that we both felt the same way about each other a short time ago. We've just never had the time, or the energy to do anything about it." He glanced back up at Dennis; a sheepish smile working it's way across his face. "It's kinda embarrassing when you come down to it. We're like two kids in love, trying to sneak around for a tryst and everywhere we turn there's some adult in our way." Starsky ran his hand through his hair pushing the already messy curls to an even wilder state.

Leaning back in his chair, arms folded, Dennis sat with an unreadable expression on his face. Starsky felt like squirming under that stern regard but forced himself still. This was Hutch's little sister's husband after all. Maybe Starsky had just made one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made. God, Hutch. I hope I haven't hurt you by doing this. Then Dennis smiled.

"Well, I'm pleased to know that I haven't lost my mind completely. I was so sure last night the way you two were acting towards each other that you were together. And to be honest, I don't care other than I want Katie's brother to be happy. If you're what makes him happy, then I'm all for it." Starsky felt almost faint again, only this time it was with relief. "Now, I guess the next question is, what do you want me to tell those detectives?"

As appealing as Dennis' little plan was, Starsky knew it would never work. "I don't think trying to convince those detectives that Hutch and I are lovers would work anyway." He smiled self-effacingly. "I'm afraid I've a bit of a reputation back home for being a ladies' man and I'm sure it wouldn't be all that hard for them to find that out." Starsky grew serious again. "But I swear to you, Dennis, on everything I hold dear - my mother's heart, my honor as a cop, or even my partner's life - that I've never, never forced anyone to do anything they didn't want to do for sex. And I never would. That little girl and I had a brief conversation and that was the extent of it."

Dennis looked at Starsky, clearly weighing the truth of what Starsky said. Finally, he nodded. "I believe you, Dave. Partially because I think I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I believe you're being truthful with me. But mostly I believe you because I know Ken, know what kind of person he is. I know he wouldn't - couldn't - be friends with someone who would molest a child that way. Now we just have to figure out why she would claim it was you who hurt her."

"Yeah, and we're not going to do that sitting in here. So, Doctor. Am I cleared for duty?" Starsky grinned.

"After you have something to eat. I don't want you not fainting on us again. I don't think Ken could take that without blowing a gasket." Dennis laughed. "And I'm not leaving, or letting those jokers at you, until I'm sure that you're all right."

"Yes, sir." Starsky sketched a mock salute. Standing was interesting. He swayed, still dizzy but refused the hand that Dennis offered. "No, I'm okay. But I think I'd better take your advice and eat something pretty soon. Even though I had a lot to eat early on last night, that was hours ago and I'm used to having something to eat by now." Starsky headed for the door, Dennis grabbing up his medical bag, right behind him.

The four men sitting around the table fell silent when Starsky opened the office door and walked into the room. Hutch was on his feet and across to the pair before Starsky had taken more than five steps into the kitchen.

Gripping Starsky's shoulder, he looked into his eyes. "You okay, Starsk?"

Reaching up to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own hand, Starsky smiled at his worried partner. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hutch. Dennis thinks I got woozy from lack of food." Casting a glance at the detectives glaring at him from the table, he added, "Among other things."

"Woozy? Is that what we're calling it?" Hutch's grin was strained, but at least it was a grin.

"Yeah, now unless you want me getting all light-headed again, help me find something to eat, will ya?"

Ignoring the rest of the kitchen's occupants as best they could, the partners busied themselves fixing Starsky his delayed breakfast. Inglehart tried once to resume his questioning of Starsky, but Dennis stopped him before two words were out of his mouth.

"My patient needs to eat before you start questioning him again, sir. And if you persist in endangering his well being, I will speak to your superior officer and lay charges of police harassment. And as I play racquetball with the commissioner once a week, I'm sure I will be listened to with far more respect than you've shown Sergeant Starsky this morning." Dennis' voice held just the right amount of righteous indignation to quell the detective.

Hutch and Starsky exchanged amused glances behind Inglehart's back. Starsky stepped close to Hutch and whispered, "Are you sure he's your brother-in-law and not your brother? Sounds an awful lot like a certain blond partner I know." Hutch's only answer was a gentle hip bump and a little smirk. Starsky barely kept from bursting out laughing.

Finally, the partners had a breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, juice, and coffee assembled and they moved to the table. Hutch pointedly stared at Cruthers until he gave up his spot on the outside of the table and moved to one nearer the window. Hutch sat down the plate he was holding, and gestured for Starsky to sit. Reaching across Inglehart to gather knife and fork from a little holder in the middle of the table, Hutch looked at Starsky and winked.

With everyone at the table watching him eat, Starsky found himself thinking about every mouthful and felt very self-conscious. But he was not going to allow the two detectives to think he was nervous because he was guilty so he made a great show of enjoying his meal. He played it to Hutch who sat just to his right around the curve of the round table. Sitting with his back half to the other detectives, Starsky carefully buttered his toast and scooped on globs of strawberry jam. He ran his tongue over his lip to capture a wayward bit of jam while locking glances with Hutch. Watching Hutch through his eyelashes, he drank his juice. Starsky knew that Dennis and Karl were watching this little performance, but at that moment, he did not care. They were family, Dennis already knew and as far as Starsky knew, so did Karl. It was only a matter of time, if Hutch and Starsky had their way, that the other members of the family who needed to know, would know.

And if Inglehart and Cruthers had their way, this might be the last time he got to flirt with his partner for a very long time. That thought hurt him deep in his soul.

By the time Starsky laid his fork on the cleaned plate, Inglehart was practically vibrating. He wasted no time in verbally pouncing on Starsky and his "defense team."

"It would appear that your patient has finished his meal, Dr. Aberget. May I continue my questioning?" Inglehart's voice practically dripped with sarcasm.

"Oh it's fine by me, but Mr. Lundstrom may have some thoughts on the matter." Dennis smiled sweetly at the detective. Starsky almost choked on his mouthful of coffee and Hutch had to put a hand over his mouth and turn away. Karl arched an eyebrow at his nephew-in-law. Then he too, smiled sweetly at Inglehart, although he reminded Starsky more of a shark than the kindly, old uncle he was trying to portray.

"Oh, I have no objections to questioning as long as my client feels up to answering. David," he turned to Starsky, "are you feeling up to answering a few more questions that Detective Inglehart has?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Starsky leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. He still sat with his back half turned; a mild show of contempt for the proceedings but one that the other detectives could not call him on. He had not interviewed thousands of witnesses over the years without learning a few things about how to tick off an investigator. Besides, this way he could look at Hutch's handsome face instead of Inglehart's hard one.

"Very well. Mr. Starsky, you said you went to bed at about ten o'clock. Are you positive of the time?

"Pretty close. I had reset my watch to local time when we were at the airport in Minneapolis." He held his arm out to show the detective his watch and then remembered it was sitting on the nightstand in his room. "Well, anyway, I'd reset my watch and I looked at it before I turned off the light. It was about twenty after. It had taken me a few minutes from the time I'd come upstairs until I was ready for bed. I'd had to move my bags from Hutch's room and find my shaving kit and all that." He crossed his legs, "accidentally" bumping Hutch's ankle with his bare right foot.

"Did you hear anything unusual - any loud noises or voices, say - after you retired?" Inglehart leaned as far forward as he could to see Starsky's face.

"I could hear the music playing outside, but it wasn't loud. And the kids were having a good time. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary. But ya got to remember; I'm from LA where some nights it seems like everyone on the block's having a party including me. So, no, I can't say I heard anything unusual under the circumstances." Starsky picked up the fork on his plate and pushed the toast crumbs and egg bits into patterns.

Cruthers stood and Starsky looked up at him. The detective gestured at his partner and the two of them left the table and went into the little office.

"Now what are they up to?" Dennis asked no one in particular.

"It's an old interrogator's trick, Dennis. Supposed to make the perp nervous thinking that they're coming up with some grand plan to trap them." Hutch answered. Then he turned to his uncle who was sitting beside him. "Karl, tell Starsky what you told me earlier."

Karl looked from Hutch to Starsky and back again. "You sure?" At Hutch's nod, Karl looked at Starsky again. "Those two haven't been partners very long. In fact, Cruthers has only been with the Duluth police force for a little over two months. The department recruited him here from Cleveland when they realized that they were short on qualified people. I've heard rumors that he left his old position under a bit of a cloud and that Inglehart isn't too happy having him for a partner. Inglehart's partner took early retirement a few months before they teamed him up with Cruthers. It's definitely not a match made in heaven."

"So what does this do for me?" Starsky could not see where Karl was going with this.

"They've got something to prove. Since they teamed up, they haven't had a very good success rate on closing cases. Less than twenty-five percent from what I've heard. Inglehart is in line for promotion, and if they don't improve their statistics, it isn't going to help him any when the review board looks at him." Karl took a sip from the mug in front of him, grimacing at the cold sludge in the bottom of it.

Hutch lay a hand on Starsky's arm. "That's why they're trying to push this so hard. They figure they've got an open and shut case here. They've got an ID from the victim and a nice handy suspect that's not going anywhere. Besides, did you see the way Inglehart looked at you when he found out you're a sergeant? That man's jealous. You're at least five years younger than he is and probably don't fit his idea of what a detective sergeant should look like." Starsky looked down at his faded jeans and bare feet. He had to admit he probably had not made a very good first impression. Starsky looked at Karl.

"So now what?" This all felt so strange. He had been the subject of a couple of IA probes and been on the hot seat more times than he liked to remember. But this time he could not even fight to defend himself. It was his word against the girl's and unless someone convinced her to tell the truth, he was in very deep trouble.

Karl leaned forward, hands folded, and looked at Starsky levelly. "Keep telling the truth. Ken vouches for your integrity, which is good enough for me. I'm going to do my best to keep them from arresting you at this time, although that may happen. We need time to get our own evidence together and to try and find out what really happened. As long as we can keep you here, in this house, we've a far better chance of proving your innocence and finding who really raped that child. I'm going to ask them to give me some time to interview you and the other witnesses. I don't know if it will work, but I'll try. I've dealt with these two before, and they're sloppy. Mean, but sloppy." They all looked up when they heard the office door open. In a quiet voice, Karl added, "Just stay calm. Whatever they ask, don't over-react."

Inglehart and Cruthers sat back down at the table. Cruthers stared at Starsky with an openly hostile glare. "Mr. Starsky, your friend here says that you were severely injured last year and are still suffering some "residual effects" from your injuries. Can you explain what some of these effects would be?"

Starsky looked over at Karl who shrugged. "I don't know what that has to do with this." Cruthers made a huffing noise when Starsky hesitated. "Tiredness. If I don't get enough sleep, I tend to get like I was last night. But once I've gotten some rest I'm good to go again. Um...." Starsky paused and looked at Hutch. There were a few things he had not told even his partner because they had not affected his work and he did not want to worry Hutch. But it would not be any problem for the detectives to get the information as all of it was in his file. It had been required as a condition of his return to work.

"I get headaches. The doctors told me that I might get them for the rest of my life but that they wouldn't affect my performance as a police officer. I take stuff for that. The muscles in my back and chest were damaged. My right arm is weaker than it was but I do exercises and it's getting stronger. And as I'm left handed, it doesn't affect my performance as a police officer either." Hutch's hand still rested on Starsky's outstretched right arm. His fingers gripped it a little tighter then relaxed. Starsky was afraid to look at him. "And I have some gaps in my memory of the period right before and for a space afterwards. The doctors said that was normal under the circumstances and not to worry about it. It hasn't affected my ability to do my work, so I don't think about it. Much."

Cruthers looked up from the notes he was making. "You're left-handed?"

"Yeah." Starsky looked pointedly at the mug in his left hand. Cruthers just nodded and made another note.

Inglehart sounded condescending as he asked, "Exactly what was the nature of 'injury' you sustained in the 'line of duty,' Mr. Starsky?"

Before Starsky could answer, Hutch did. His voice was tight with controlled anger and another emotion that sounded to Starsky an awful lot like fear. "My partner was shot four times in the back by hired assassins, Mr. Inglehart. He was not expected to survive the first twenty-four hours. In fact, he was clinically dead for several minutes. My partner has fought hard to come back to work and no one has had any cause to regret or question his return to duty."

Starsky moved his arm until he could grip Hutch's hand with his own. Karl reached over and laid his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Sergeant Starsky's injuries and how he acquired them are public record, gentlemen. In fact, they made the papers here when the incident happened. Both of these officers were instrumental in bringing down a major crime syndicate. Are you questioning the validity of his claim? Or just what are you implying?"

Cruthers put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. Picking at a nail, he did not look at any of the others at the table. "Not exactly implying anything. Except that, sometimes, a severe trauma has been known to cause changes to a person's basic personality. The subject suddenly starts behaving in ways that would have been totally out of character before. I'm just wondering if Mr. Starsky's experience has caused one of these shifts in behavior."

Gripping Hutch's hand tighter, hoping to keep the anger he could feel radiating off his partner under some kind of control, Starsky glared at Cruthers. "Why don't you just spit it out and stop dancing around. What are you asking us?"

The black detective looked up at Starsky then gazed pointedly at where Starsky's and Hutch's hands lay clasped tightly together on the tabletop. "I'm trying to find out if there's been any evidence in the last year of sexual deviance, Sergeant Starsky. Of any kind."

Starsky could not stop himself from looking at his hand clutching his partner's hanging on to him like a lifeline. Something he had done so many times over the years that it had become second nature to reach out for that large warm hand. Starsky could feel the tremors of rage traveling along that connection and for a moment he was not sure if it was he or Hutch that was about to blow.

Luckily, for all concerned, Karl stepped in with a snort of derision. "Detective, I hope what it sounds like you're implying isn't really what you mean. I for one am going to ignore it for the twaddle it is. These two men are among the most highly decorated and honored police officers in their city. I'm sure that their commanding officers would never have allowed Sergeant Starsky back on duty if there had been any question of either his physical or psychological fitness."

Cruthers had the grace to look embarrassed and Starsky relaxed but he did not let go of the hand in his. He felt Hutch's fingers move, squeezing an assurance. Starsky sat back and watched Karl work.

"Now, detectives, I believe you have taken up enough of everyone's time this morning. These two men are here to help Sergeant Hutchinson's parents prepare for their trip. I'm due in court in an hour, and I'm sure Dr. Aberget has things he needs to attend to. I'd also like to see what physical evidence you've accumulated before any further accusations are made against my client. So, unless you are planning on arresting Sergeant Starsky right now, I'd suggest you let us go on about our business and you two go out and investigate a bit more. I know Miss Vetter is mistaken in her claim that Sergeant Starsky was her attacker and that if you question her a bit more carefully, I'm sure you will discover that."

Inglehart closed his notebook. Not looking at his partner, he stood and glared down at the four men clustered at the end of the table. "We're going to file our report and speak to the DA's office. I'm sure we'll be back with a warrant before the day is out." Inglehart focused on Starsky, narrowing his eyes. "Don't leave town, Mr. Starsky." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, Cruthers scrambling to catch up.

"Well, that was interesting." Hutch muttered.

"To say the least." Dennis rose, "Karl's right, I've got rounds and I'm already late. Dave, if you need me, I'll be at the hospital until around noon, then my office. Helen knows how to get in touch with me at either place." He stepped around the table and laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Don't worry, Ken. Dave's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine. You'll see." He sketched a wave at Karl and headed for the door, meeting Helen as she was coming in. They had a brief, quiet talk and then he was gone.

Helen looked after her son-in-law for a moment, then turned to the men in the kitchen. Karl had gotten up and taken his mug to the coffeemaker. Both partners stood when Helen walked over to the table. To Starsky's surprise she put her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Resting her head on his chest, she enveloped him in warm affection and good perfume. He relaxed into her hold and felt comforted by this unexpected display of emotion. Hutch came up behind his mother and wrapped his long arms around both of them. They stood like that for several minutes giving and receiving reassurance.

"I'm so sorry that this is happening to you, David." Helen's soft voice broke the quiet in the room. She rubbed Starsky's back and pushed away, twisting so she could draw her son's face down and kiss him on the cheek. "You too, Ken. If we had known something like this would happen, your father and I would never have asked you to come. We should have gone out to Los Angeles and visited you there. We should have done that long ago."

"Mom, how could you have seen something like this? And Starsky and I were very happy to come out to help you. Don't worry, everything will be fine. We all know he didn't hurt that girl and it will be only a matter of time for the truth to come out." Hutch smiled down at his mother. "Karl is helping us, and there's no way that they can prove Starsky did this. Don't worry. We've won harder battles than this."

"Yeah, Helen. Don't worry." Starsky put his arm around Helen's shoulder. He had not realized how distressed he had been until she hugged him. Starsky had actually felt the tension run out of his body while Helen held him.

She looked up at him and searched his face with her eyes. "David, are you all right? You frightened me so earlier. If Ken hadn't caught you...."

"I'm fine. Honest. Dennis said it was from being tired and not having anything in my stomach. I'm okay now." Starsky smiled reassuringly at her.

"Let me fix you something to eat." She started to pull away but Hutch stopped her.

"He's fed, Mom. Starsky packed away some eggs. If you keep feeding him, you'll go broke on the groceries." Hutch grinned at his mother. Then his face grew serious again. "Mom, Starsky and I need to talk. I think we'll go back up to our rooms. I threw on what I wore yesterday and I'd like to change. Will you excuse us for awhile?" Hutch took hold of Starsky's elbow and started towards the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at his uncle. "Thanks, Karl. For everything."

"My pleasure, Ken. If you need me, call my office. My secretary will know how to get me." Karl raised his refilled mug in salute.

Nodding, Hutch ushered his partner through the door and up the hallway to the stairs. They could hear Richard on the phone in the living room as they reached the staircase and he did not sound happy. But Hutch did not linger, almost pushing Starsky ahead of him up the stairs.

"Hutch, what's gotten into you?" Starsky balked at the rush, stopping on a riser and staring down at his partner.

"I want to discuss a few things with you and I didn't want to do it in front of the whole family. Now, move."

Starsky knew that tone of voice and also knew better than to argue when he heard it. Sighing to himself, he continued up the stairs, Hutch hard on his heels. Reaching their rooms, Starsky opened the door to Hutch's and walked in.

Hutch pushed the door shut with a slam and pointed at the bed. "Sit down."

Oh boy. Starsky sat, trying to keep the anger he felt at Hutch's demanding tone dampened. It would not do to have a yelling match at this stage of the game. Not at all.

He watched as Hutch stalked back and forth beside the bed, waiting for Hutch to put into words whatever it was that had his partner angry with him - steeling himself for it. When it did not seem that Hutch was going to talk to him, Starsky decided to take the bull by the horns. "Hutch, what's the matter, buddy? It's going to be okay. You said so yourself that we've gotten out of worse things than this."

Hutch stopped with his back to Starsky, head down, hands clenched at his sides. Starsky could not read his body language. Rising from the bed, he went to his partner and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me, Hutch."

For a moment, Starsky was not sure that Hutch was going to acknowledge him. Then, Hutch looked up at him with eyes so full of pain that Starsky stepped back in surprise. "Why?" Hutch's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Why what, Hutch?"

Hutch turned towards Starsky and reached out to grasp his upper arms. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm your partner. Your best friend. Why didn't you come to me?"

"Huh? You mean the girl? Hutch...." Starsky felt his heart drop at the thought that Hutch would think such a thing about him.

"Not the damn girl, Starsk. I know you didn't rape her. Not in a million years would I ever believe anything like that about you. Why didn't you tell me about the headaches and the memory loss? Why?" Hutch shook Starsky a little. "I can't stand the thought of you hurting and keeping it from me."

Starsky could not think of how to explain his decisions made back before he had returned to work, before he was even out of the hospital. How to explain without hurting Hutch worse but he had to try.

"I didn't say anything because it wouldn't have changed anything. I would still have gotten the headaches; still not remembered stuff. My arm would still have been weak and all the rest of it. None of it affected my ability to do my job or my ability to watch out for you. I didn't tell you because it was my decision not to. Isn't that enough?"

The sadness in Hutch's eyes hurt Starsky to look at. But not as bad as the look of betrayal that seemed to skitter across those pale blue eyes. "No, it's not enough. Damn it, Starsky, we're partners. We're supposed to share things. Especially big things like this. I could have helped you, made things easier for you."

Starsky pulled away from Hutch and stepped back out of his reach. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you. I didn't want anyone making things easier for me. Damn it, Hutch. I had to know that I was capable of doing the job for both our sakes. If something happened because you were busy watching out for me, helping me, what good would that have done? Especially if something happened to you because I was being coddled." He turned his back on Hutch and walked over to the window. Pushing aside the curtain, he looked down at the backyard with its sad remnants of the night-before's party.

"I needed to know that I could be a cop just like before. I needed to know that I could protect you out there. When the doctors told me about what life would be like when I was well enough to go back to work, I knew I had to learn to live with it if I still wanted to be your partner. And I wanted that more than anything. If I couldn't...well...then there was no point in me having lived at all." Starsky ignored the little gasp that last statement wrung from Hutch. "I thought that was all I'd ever have of you, being your partner. Out there on the streets. I loved you so damn much and I couldn't tell you. But I'd be the best damn cop I could. And the best damn partner, even if I died doing it."

For a moment, he was back in that hospital room, listening to the doctors. Listening as they told him that he would never be entirely whole again. Never entirely well. He would be good enough to go back to work, even go back to the streets. But not as he used to be, never again. He felt as if he had failed Hutch - his partner who had sat beside him for hours - days - cheering him on. Hutch who kept telling him how it was going to be when they were partners in truth again. Who had been suffering his own kind of death from the first bullet to the day Starsky walked out of the hospital under his own steam.

The partner Starsky had realized somewhere along the way that he loved more than he had ever loved anyone. The partner to whom he had made a silent vow that he would take care of him out of love and not just duty. Even if it meant not telling him how badly he hurt.

Starsky leaned his head against the cool windowpane and tried to breathe around the lump in his throat; around the pain in his chest. Warm hands rested on his shoulders and Hutch laid his cheek against Starsky's.

"Babe, I'm sorry you felt you had to carry this all on your own. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I loved you when I first realized it. But so much was going on that there just never seemed to be the right time. And then you were shot, and things got more complicated."

Starsky turned in Hutch's grasp so he could look into his partner's eyes. "What do you mean 'and then you got shot'? You mean you felt this way before that?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure exactly when, but one day I seemed to wake up and I found myself in love. Stupid, huh? I got confused and was still trying to figure out what to do about it when all that shit with the judge happened. And then...then you got hurt and I was too busy willing you to stay alive to worry about it." Starsky was shocked to see tears in his staid partner's eyes. Hutch's voice dropped to a whisper. "The one thing I knew was that if you died, so would I. I wouldn't have given a damn about anything if you weren't there to share it with me. I love you so damn much, Starsk. You have no idea how much."

No mere words could erase the pain and lingering sadness from Hutch's eyes. Starsky knew that, knew it deep in his soul. So he did the one thing that could. The one thing he had been waiting far too long to do.

Taking his partner's face between his hands, Starsky drew that beloved face closer and kissed Hutch. Lips touching lips, his heart seemed to stop then jumpstart and bang in his chest. Hutch wrapped his arms around him and gave himself over to Starsky's mouth.

The combination of Hutch's lips parting under his, the tongue that searched out his and the warmth of the body against him was almost too much. Starsky's ears rang, his mind turned off, and if he had not already known he was in love, this would have left no doubt. This kiss was like no other he had ever experienced. Soft, gentle, strong. So much the essence of his partner that Starsky wanted nothing more than to stand like this for the rest of his life. Drinking it in - drinking Hutch in.

Then it got even more intense. Hutch pressed against him leaving no doubt that this kiss was every bit as arousing for his partner as it was for Starsky. For one crazed moment, Starsky wanted to pull the two of them to the floor and kiss Hutch all over. Rip their clothes off and let nature take its course. But cold sanity returned and he stepped back from Hutch. He felt as if he were taking a step away from heaven to return to a world that was slightly less solid than even ten minutes before.

Gasping, they stared at each other. Starsky felt a grin pull at his lips - still warm from his partner's - at the stunned look on Hutch's face. He gave into it; into the joy of what he was feeling. Starsky knew he must look like an idiot, a grin splitting his face, but he truly did not care.

"Hey, partner. You going to stand there with your mouth hanging open all day, or you goin' say something?"

"Wow." Hutch shook his head. Starsky was not sure if the headshake was to clear Hutch's mind or in wonder, but the blond hair floating around that long neck mesmerized him.

"Is that all you can say after that? 'Wow'? Boy, I thought it was worth at least a 'Zowie'." Starsky lightly touched Hutch's shoulder savoring all the warm strength hiding under a less-than-clean and rumpled shirt. "Get changed, Hutch. I'm going to go and finish that shower I started. Alone." Just in case Hutch had other ideas. "Then we'll go see what your mom wants us to do." The urge to gather this person into his arms and never let go was so strong that it was a physical hurt to drop his hand and move away.

"Starsky." Hutch's voice sounded strange. Starsky looked over his shoulder at him.

"Yeah?"

"I won't let them railroad you. If worse comes to worse...well...I'll think of something. But there's no way in hell you're going to spend even one second in jail. Believe me." For a minute, Hutch looked different. In the light streaming in from the window, he looked ethereal, like some kind of terrible angel. And for that minute, Starsky felt fear. Then the sun shifted, or Hutch did, and the illusion disappeared.

"Don't worry, Hutch. It'll all straighten out." Starsky almost fell over the nightstand when he turned back towards the bathroom door. He had never seen Hutch look like that, ready to kill, not for him. Dobey and Huggy had told him about how Hutch had been when Starsky died. No wonder both of them had been so afraid for Hutch and of him.

Closing the door between them, Starsky leaned against it and tried to calm his breathing. The very thought of what would have happened to his partner if he had not come back from wherever it was he went when he died frightened Starsky. Partner, I promise you. I'll do everything that I can never to disappoint you. To make all of the pain you went through for me worth it.

***

Part 2