...Ain't no kindness in the face of strangers
Ain't gonna find no miracles here
Well you can wait on your blessings, darlin'
But I got a deal for you right here
      Bruce Springsteen _ Human Touch

       "What's the matter?" Hutch asked quietly from the passenger seat of the Torino.

   Starsky turned to glance at his partner and shrugged. "I dunno. It's just sitting here with you always feels so, so " He held his hands up, as though he could grab the words out of the air and tame them. " So normal that on the drive over here it was like prowling the beat, y'know? Checkin' out the action. Like we do every day. Working. Then we pull up to a diner we eat at on a regular basis, and-and " He released a sigh. "And two people spot us and start whispering together and it all bursts like a soap bubble. We ain't working. And if the brass has its way, we might never "

   Hutch cut him off by pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Don't! Don't say it. We'll work together again, one way or another. That's why we're here. To find a way to work together again. Hell, we're working now! Working to get out of this mess. Don't give in to it, Starsk. You can't let the finger-pointers get to you."

   Starsky nodded. "Can't let Gunther win," he said, as if to remind himself.

   "Ready to negotiate the parking lot?" Hutch challenged.

   In answer, Starsky swung open his car door and stepped out, waiting for Hutch to join him. When he did, the darker man remarked, "I feel so naked without my gun!"

   Hutch nodded in agreement. "Yeah, well, I sure hope we can get through lunch in a public restaurant without needing them."

   Starsky looked at him in surprise, then realized he was teasing somewhat.

   Both cops scanned the area before moving toward the diner. As they entered the gleaming chrome and glass restaurant, a
burly man considerably taller than Hutch, with dark eyes and darker wavy hair, met them at the door. They'd seen him whenever they'd eaten here in the past and thought he might be the owner. The big man looked at Hutch. "You Starsky?"

   Before Hutch could correct him, his partner, feeling a flush of paranoia, asked, "Who wants t'know?"

   "I'll tell you that if one of you is Starsky," the man replied smoothly. He didn't smile.

   "I'm Starsky. Now, who wants t'know?"

   His eyes never left Hutch. "That means you're " he glanced at a tiny piece of paper in his palm, "Hutchinson?"

   "That's right," the blond said.

   "Ms. Callahan's waiting for you," the burly man said. "This way."

   The two detectives eyed each other and fell in behind the tall stranger. As they walked through the dining area, Starsky tried not to notice that every pair of eyes in the restaurant followed their progress.

   In the back of the diner, in a large circular booth, Starsky could see a single occupant. She wore a somber professional business suit, and her head was bent over a yellow pad. What he could see of her hair was a dark red with gold highlights, tied up in a stark bun pinned into submission at the nape of her neck. Papers, pads, and files were spread out all over the booth and the table. In a small cleared space in front of her sat a half-consumed meal that looked to be mostly green vegetables, with a small bowl of soup and some bread.

   "Are we late?" Hutch asked him quietly, reaching for Starsky's left wrist and checking his watch. "No. Right on time."

   "Ms. Callahan?" their native guide said. His tone of voice was gentle and much more personal than the one he'd used on the detectives.

   She looked up immediately, eyes wide as if surprised, then tried to stand, but since she was trapped behind the table it was too awkward, so she sat again.

   "Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson?" she asked.

   Nice voice, Starsky thought immediately, as he reached out over a small pile of folded newspapers and held his hand out to shake hers. Nice face, too.

   It was a pleasant Irish face, if a little serious. She had a pretty smattering of freckles over a classic Irish nose, with a small, well-formed mouth, and wide-set, large green eyes that looked a little haunted. She wasn't a tall woman, maybe five five, and she had a build that his mom would call "sturdy." Womanly. Not one of those frail twigs Hutch was always going out with. This was a woman with curves.

   Nice ones, too. And in all the right places. Something you can hold onto at night.

   She captured his outstretched hand immediately in a strong, dry grip and shook it firmly as he started to introduce himself and Hutch. "Miss Callahan, I'm "

   "Dave Starsky," she said. As she released his hand and reached for Hutch's, she continued, "Which makes you Ken Hutchinson. Please sit down. Order some food. I'm sorry to start without you, but I've been through enough of these meetings to know that once we get started I won't have time to eat. Stavros will be happy to take your order."

   Since her paraphernalia made it impossible to share the booth with her, the two men stood there hesitantly for a moment until Stavros moved chairs up to the booth.

   As the two detectives sat, Starsky glanced back at the hulking man standing behind them with his arms crossed. Stavros didn't look like he'd be happy to do anything for them. Starsky tried a feeble smile, but it accomplished nothing.

   Without looking at the menu, Hutch turned to Stavros and said clearly, "We'll both have the same thing. We'll have the tuna salad, but with Romaine lettuce, not iceberg, with extra raw vegetables, and we want the dressing on the side."

   We do? Starsky thought for the two thousandth time since he'd been shot. He wondered if he'd soon have to file his front teeth down like you had to do for rabbits.

   "Extra sprouts on mine," Hutch finished. "Oh, and coffee for both of us."

   Thank god for that! Starsky thought with relief.

   Stavros never uncrossed his arms, merely glowered at the two men and walked away without writing anything down.

   Callahan wore a small smile as she checked her yellow pad. "You'll have to forgive Stavros. We go back a long way. But he doesn't always approve of my clients."

   "He's the owner, isn't he?" Hutch asked, as a young man around nineteen filled water glasses for them. The boy was swarthy and clean cut, with a familiar look that told Starsky he was probably Stavros' kid, working his way up in the family restaurant.

   As the boy filled Hutch's glass, he kept glancing surreptitiously at the blond cop. Hutch finally noticed the odd looks the kid was giving him, and in typical Hutchinson manner tried to relax the boy with a smile. It had the opposite effect, unhinging the kid so badly he turned bright red and overflowed Hutch's glass, splattering water all over the table.

   The kid jerked the pitcher away too quickly, nearly dousing Hutch who jumped out of the chair in reflex, knocking it over with a huge bang. Every head turned to watch them. Starsky tried not to cringe. But Callahan only looked amused.

   The kid was babbling an apology and mopping the table rapidly as Hutch picked up the chair and tried to assure the boy everything was all right. When he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, Starsky thought the kid would faint. That's when it all hit him.

   Oh, geez. The kid's gay. And Hutch is bein'....

   Beautiful. The way he always was. The way he couldn't help but be. And his beauty, his gentleness, was just killing the kid who was probably falling in love with his partner right there, right in front of him. And all the time Hutch just kept making it worse without realizing.

   Starsky would've kicked the blond to get his attention, but he was out of range, still moving around, trying to help the kid. Finally, Callahan came to their rescue.

   "Steven, it's okay!" Her clear voice cut through the chaos instantly, and the boy turned to her gratefully, his eyes huge. "Would you get us some bread, please?"

   Steven nodded rapidly and disappeared, leaving the water pitcher behind in his confusion. Hutch eased back into his chair.

   Realizing how much attention they'd drawn, Hutch glared at the other diners and said crisply, "Do you mind?"

   Every head in the place went studiously back to their plates.

   Finally, Hutch turned confused blue eyes on Starsky that clearly asked, What the hell was that all about?

   You really don't know, do you? Starsky thought, his stomach tightening.

   Hutch was certain of his attractiveness to women, but Starsky always thought some of that was his need to compete with his hyper-confident partner. He was genuinely oblivious to the effect he had on those of his own sex.

   Like yesterday with Whitelaw.

   It was Stavros, not his son, who returned with the rolls, salads, and coffee for the two men. He dropped them on the table with a clatter making both of them jump. Starsky found they were both smiling at the big man nervously, though Hutch kept throwing baffled looks in Starsky's direction. Starsky was painfully aware of all the attention they were once more attracting from the other patrons.

   "We're going to need some privacy, Stavros," Callahan said smoothly.

   The restaurateur nodded and said ominously, "Any trouble, you just call, Ms Callahan."

   She nodded as the big man left them. "You guys are going to have to get used to this kind of thing."

   Hutch turned to his partner, still confused. "Get used to what?"

   "I'll tell ya later," Starsky grumbled, and reached for a roll. He felt color in his cheeks and it annoyed him.

   "Look, why don't you tell me what offer your captain presented to you this morning," Callahan said quietly, pulling them back to the business at hand. "Was he speaking for himself, or ?"

   "He said he'd gotten the agreement after negotiating with the mayor's office, the D.A., and the union," Hutch told her.

   "Called it `delicate negotiations,'" Starsky remembered, staring into his tuna salad. He frowned at the tiny cup of dressing on the side and tasted it. It was sharp, vinegary. He'd have preferred blue cheese, but Hutch would hit the roof. "Said meeting with you could ruin the whole thing."

   "Is that right?" Callahan said.

   Starsky looked up at her faintly humorous tone of voice to see the woman wearing a disarming smile that lit up her green eyes. He found himself smiling back at her and for a second, it was just the two of them there at the table. An attractive lady lawyer and a simple street cop having lunch.

   All of a sudden, Starsky realized he was in the company of the one woman in L.A. who would willingly speak to him. Look at him. Smile at him. Laugh with him. Maybe even like him. He blinked and stared at her more intently, wondering how long her hair was.

   "Well, it always makes me happy to hear that I have that kind of power," Callahan murmured, her voice almost a throaty purr.

   Or maybe it was Starsky's hearing. He felt like it had been a year since a woman had spoken to him with kindness. With interest. Then he remembered that that was exactly how long it had been.

   He felt a slight stirring below his belt, and the relief that overwhelmed him was shocking. Oh thank God! I'm still attracted to women!

   "Well," Hutch said, snapping him out of his self-centered reverie, "your name sure rattled our Captain's cage."

   "Oh, I'm persona-non-grata down at the mayor's office," Callahan assured them. But her eyes were still on Starsky, and he hadn't been able to move his gaze from hers. "That's the price you pay for being a trouble-maker."

   "I don't suppose winning a two million dollar judgement against the city for discrimination hurts," Hutch added.

   Pulling her gaze from Starsky's face, she smiled at Hutch. "No, it doesn't. It doesn't hurt at all."

   Turning to his partner, Starsky watched for Hutch's reaction, tensing automatically. But Hutch's returning smile was bland, unfocused.

   That ain't like Hutch. `Specially not before Gunther's hit. If a woman so much as smiled at me, it was like a declaration of war. Hutch wouldn't be happy till he won her for himself. But whenever he did win, he lost interest immediately.

   He tried not to think of the last, worst time that had happened. Just before the hit in the police garage. Kira. The woman who'd nearly ended their partnership. He pushed the bitter memories away, realizing for the first time what that had been all about.

   You didn't have to work so hard to keep the ladies away from me, Hutch. I always loved you more, anyway.

   It was a surprising insight, and while it didn't make Starsky very comfortable, it was, after all, the simple truth.

   "Tell me about your captain's offer," Callahan said, distracting him. But Hutch took up the story of Dobey's visit, leaving him to watch his partner and their lawyer interact.

   It's different now, Starsky realized. The way you look at her, the way you look at me, all different.

   He glanced back at Callahan. She wasn't really Hutch's "type" but his type had always been pretty disastrous for him anyway. He felt a half-formed idea niggling at his mind.

   "Starsky thinks it's a way to get us on the force, and yet defuse the issue around us by separating us," Hutch added. "He thinks once they have us back, they'll bury us until everything's forgotten and they can team us up with other partners."

   "That's very insightful, Detective Starsky. But that's not acceptable to you?" she asked neutrally, jotting notes in shorthand on her pad.

   It looked, to Starsky, like some alien language, like Klingon, all weird curves and dots and lines. He'd never seen a lawyer use shorthand before only secretaries used it.

   Hutch glanced at him, as if expecting him to respond. When he didn't, Hutch continued, "No. We've worked together as partners for over eight years. Our records are the best in the city. When we tried to quit we were reinstated at the personal request of the mayor. We're good cops, but together well, we're better as partners. We complement each other."

   Starsky had the sudden urge to nod at Hutch and say My, don't you look nice today, but squelched the inappropriate humor. Hutch would be proud of him if he knew.

   Softly, he said to the lawyer, "No, that's not acceptable to us." Nothing could make him apologize for wanting Hutch to be his partner.

   She nodded, making more notes. "What is acceptable?"

   "Complete reinstatement," Hutch said instantly. "And clean records."

   "That's all? No back pay? No damages?"

   "We just want our jobs back," Hutch insisted, digging into his salad and looking depressed.

   Wouldn't mind getting our privacy back, but I figure that's a lost cause, Starsky thought.

   She flipped through a few pages of notes, then said to Hutch, "I know you've talked to Peter and you're aware of his interest in this case. I need to know how you feel about that. There's more than one way to approach this."

   Hutch exchanged a look with his partner. "Well, I don't know how to feel about it. I guess we can't escape the notoriety now. The damage is done."

   She frowned. "The damage can get worse." She flipped through some notes on her pad. "Detective Hutchinson, you've been a Big Brother for several years, haven't you?"

   Hutch grew very still, and Starsky's stomach tightened up so much he knew he wouldn't be able to eat now. "Yes."

   "Well, you should know that the Big Brother organization will probably ask for your voluntary resignation."

   "My resig !" Hutch's quiet voice trembled. "I've been Kiko's Big Brother since he was nine! He and his adopted sister Mollie have grown up with me and Starsky. I coach his ball team and Starsky coaches Mollie's. We're the only fathers those kids have! How am I supposed to resign from their lives?"

   Callahan's gaze never wavered. "I'm not recommending you do. Have you ever had, or attempted to have, an inappropriate relationship with your Little Brother?"

   His partner went white so quickly Starsky thought he would faint. Quietly, so his voice didn't carry, he hissed, "Hutch!" pulling his partner's attention. When the blond turned to him, some of his color had returned. "Someone's gonna ask you, Hutch, sooner or later. She's trying to prepare you, just like we do with witnesses all the time."

   Hutch sucked in a ragged breath, pulled himself together.

   "If they ask for your resignation, simply refuse," Callahan told them. "Refer them, or anyone else with similar questions, to me. Let me handle it. That is if you want to work with me on this."

   "Suppose we say yes," Starsky asked her, toying with his salad. Her comments about Kiko and the Big Brother organization made him not want to be distracted by those green eyes. "What can you do about it?"

   "I can threaten a lawsuit," she said. "Detective Hutchinson has an exemplary record. His personal life is his business. As long as Kiko corroborates that their relationship is appropriate, and still wants to be his Little Brother...."

   Hutch looked at Starsky, his eyes anguished. "I-I don't know that he wants that. I we haven't had a chance to talk to
him yet."

   Starsky held his friend's stare. How many times were they going to have confront the same pain? He couldn't sit here and not respond to Hutch's heartache. Under the table he slid a hand over his friend's thigh, and gave it a quick squeeze. Hutch brightened slightly.

CHAPTER 8b