The squad room was nearly deserted, though even at the odd hour of the day Starsky and Hutch were both still there, hard at work (or at least pretending to be)

Tug of War

    The squad room was nearly deserted, though even at the odd hour of the day Starsky and Hutch were both still there, hard at work (or at least pretending to be). They had been partners for the last four months, and were glad that there had been no further life threatening incidents as there had been on their first day together. Starsky was sitting on the back of his chair, (his feet on the seat) reading a file, as his partner sat more conservatively at the desk reading a different file. Neither noticed the door open or the dark haired woman that walked in. She sauntered her way over to Hutch and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
    Hutch turned around almost disinterestedly, expecting some uniformed officer wanting him to sign something or some other boring detective-y duty. When he saw who was standing behind him, he almost jumped out of his chair. His ability to speak seemed to desert him for a brief moment - an effect that was not lost on the person who caused it. In fact, she rather seemed to enjoy it. When he found his voice again, he could only eek out one word. One word to ask this illusion to confirm its existence. "Van?"
    Starsky glanced up when he heard Hutch say something, even though he hadn't caught what his partner had said, only the sound of his voice. The smile he had been wearing turned to a frown when he saw the person standing next to Hutch, it was such a shock that he almost fell off the back of his chair. Recovering quickly, he slid down to sit on the seat. It was obvious that she hadn't paid him any attention, her attention was focused on Hutch.
    "Hello, Ken."
    She spoke in that familiar way of hers. Her voice seemed to purr, especially when she said his name. It was almost predatory. He glanced at Starsky involuntarily, though he wasn't sure why. Was he trying to gauge his partner's response? He never had gotten along with Vanessa. Or maybe it was merely to see if he was still there. A reassurance of moral support. His eyes quickly returned to Vanessa, however. "What are you doing here, Van?" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control and hoping the attempt didn't sound as pathetic to his listeners as it did in his head.
    "I really need to talk to you." Vanessa told him, as she gently massaged his shoulder with one hand, taking his chin her other hand, to make him look her in the face, wanting his full and undivided attention.
    Hutch pulled away uncomfortably, now painfully aware of Starsky's presence and the way that she was studiously ignoring it. "What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Did you max out your credit cards? Well, you already have my house and my car, so there's not much I can give you... you could sell one of them," he suggested, making a show of turning back to the open file on his desk.
    "It has nothing to do with money."
    Starsky chuckled softly, knowing that with Vanessa everything had to do with money. He chose to remain quiet though, not wanting to say anything that might upset Hutch. Vanessa glanced slightly at Starsky, with a chilling look that he returned. She turned her attention back to Hutch.
    "I would like to talk to you in private, Ken, dear."
    "Then it's going to have to wait, Vanessa, honey. As you can see, I'm very busy," he told her cooly, not looking up from the file on his desk. Once he had regained a modicum of self-control, he vowed he would keep it. He decided the best way to do that would be to avoid looking at her. "Why don't you leave your number and I'll call you when I get off work?" he suggested almost pleasantly.
    "I don't know if I can wait that long." Vanessa said poutingly.
    "Yeah, well, Sweetheart, maybe it's about time you learned some patience." Starsky said, staring at the file he had been reading - though he wasn't actually reading at this point. "As my partner told you *we* are busy."
    Hutch looked up in time to see Vanessa's icy glare settle firmly on Starsky, before her eyes softened and returned to him. "It's very important, Ken," she said softly. "Do you think I would be here if it weren't?"
    He was still suspicious. She was always a great one for games, his Vanessa. However, if he *did* take her out in the hall and find out what the hell it was she wanted, maybe she'd leave and he could go back to the life he was really beginning to enjoy.
    "Alright," he said finally, avoiding Starsky's gaze and the reproach he was sure he would find there. "C'mon out here and tell me what you want." He stood up and led her into the hall.
    Vanessa shot a grin at Starsky, grinning like a Cheshire cat, before she followed Hutch. Starsky glared after her, wanting to follow them. He didn't trust her. He suspected that she was up to something (something that would end up hurting Hutch) but he respected his partner's decision to speak to her alone, and remained sitting on his chair.
    When they got out into the pretty much deserted hallway, Hutch leaned against the wall as nonchalantly as possible. "So?" he asked.
    "I been doing a lot of thinking lately, Ken." She informed him, standing as close to him as she could without actually touching him. He suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. He slid out from between Vanessa and the wall and casually stepped around behind her so that his back was to the empty corridor.
    "Thinking, huh? About what?"
    "About us. About what we had." Vanessa said, reaching out with one hand to gently caress his cheek.
    He pulled away from her touch. "What's to think about? You still have everything that we had," he said bitterly. "You kept it when you kicked my ass out, remember?"
    "We had a lot of good times together." Vanessa said, as if Hutch was unaware of the fact. "And I still love you."
    "Yeah, and you always knew how to show it," he told her. "Do me a favour? Cut the crap and tell me exactly what it is that you want from me?"
    "I want you to reconsider our separation - just as I have."
    Hutch raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And what brought about this sudden change of heart? It was barely four months ago that you decided a cop for a husband was a bad insurance risk."
    "I made a rash decision and I am sorry. In our time apart I have missed you more then I could ever begin to tell you." Vanessa told him, her voice was soft - almost with an attempt to sound seductive.
    "Oh, I see. So that's why you called so frequently," he said sarcastically, referring to the fact that this was the first time he had heard from her in any way, shape or form since their separation. "It's all beginning to make sense."
    "I was afraid to call you." Vanessa said, her smile leaving her face replaced with sad 'puppy dog' eyes. "And even more afraid to come here and see you."
    "And yet you did - managing to hide your fear quite deftly, I might add." He sighed. "Vanessa, I'm willing to hear you out - if you get to the point sometime this weekk - but please don't insult my intelligence. I know you too well."
    "I told you before I need your help." Vanessa said, looking at him with hopeful eyes.
    "With what?" he asked. "And don't tell me it's for the loneliness stalking your soul. I want the truth."
    "Loneliness, no. But someone has been stalking me. I tried reporting it ... but they said there was nothing they could do until my stalker actually tried to harm me."
    Hutch's somewhat stern, distrusting look softened slightly. He furrowed his brow in concern. "How long has this been going on?" he asked.
    "Two weeks."
    "Do you know who it is?"
    Vanessa shook her head. "He just makes threatening phone calls, and I've seen him lurking around outside my apartment building. He always seems to be *there*." She said, glancing around as though expecting to see him there watching her.
    "Well... what do you want me to do about it? Do you think he followed you here?"
    "I just thought you might still care enough to help, to keep me safe."
    "Well, I would like to help. Helping is what I do. I just don't know what you expect me to do about a stalker in Beverly Hills."
    "You help *everyone* else, but won't help me, is that it?" Vanessa asked, with tears in her eyes.
    "That's not what I *said*," he told her, exasperated already. "I just want to know what you think I can do? Beverly Hills is out of my jurisdiction now. I still have some friends there, though. I'll make some calls and see if I can get somebody on this case." He turned to go back into the Squad Room.
    Vanessa grabbed hold of his arm. "Please, Ken."
    "Please what? I'm trying to help you!"
    "Let me stay with you, at least for a little while. I am too scared to stay alone one day longer. It'd been getting worse and I ..I ..." Vanessa's voice trailed off as she started to cry.
    He let her fall into his arms as she sobbed and placed a hand against the back of her head, stroking her hair. "Okay," he said softly. "We'll see what we can do about your case. You can stay at my cottage until we work something out." He pulled her gently away from his body enough that he could look her in the face. "Just wait here for a minute," he told her, then headed back into the Squad Room to tell Starsky that he was taking her home. It was a conversation he was *not* looking forward to.
    Starsky had been watching for Hutch out of the corner of his eye, trying not to act as though he was watching. He saw Hutch come in and focused his attention on the file, not wanting it to be obvious that he had been debating going out into the hallway to see what was taking so long. He was worried about what the two had been talking about. It wasn't that he didn't trust Hutch - he just didn't trust Vanessa.
    Hutch strolled over to Starsky's side of the desk and sat down on it casually. "It seems Vanessa came back for a bigger problem than having missed my pretty face," he said lightly. He looked at his partner, waiting for his reaction.
    "I'm sure she's got alotta problems." Starsky mumbled, then leaned back on his chair and looked his partner.
    "Well, this one is actually serious," he said. "Not to mention in our line."
    "Oh?" Starsky asked with feigned curiosity.
    "It seems she has a stalker," he said, a little more carefully than he'd made his last statement. He caught that slight look in distrust in Starsky's eye - he knew it wasn't for him, but it still made him uneasy. He was still the one championing the cause. "Don't worry," he assured the dark-haired detective. "I'm going to make a few calls to Beverly Hills, see if there's anything in this." He took a breath, then decided just to come out with it. "But just in case there is - just until we know differently - I'm going to take her back to my place. Just in case it's true."
    "You don't always have to play the white knight, ya know. There's plenty of cops in Beverly Hills. If she wants a *bodyguard* she's got the money to hire one." Starsky said crossly, then his eyes softened. "Listen, Hutch, I just don't want to see you getting hurt by her, *again*."
    Hutch had dropped his eyes to the floor for most of Starsky's speech, and they rested there now. "I know," he said quietly, then raised his eyes to meet his partner's. "But I also know that I loved her once. If she really is in danger, can I just leave her to deal with it alone? Maybe to die?" His gaze was focused now firmly on Starsky's face. He was no longer skirting the issue. His eyes were asking for Starsky's support. *Can I count on you?* was their unspoken question.
    "Far as I care she can deal with it on her own… but since you seem determined to help her, I'll help." Starsky told him, his eyes clearly showing that he was doing it *only* for Hutch's sake and not Vanessa.
    "That's all I ask," Hutch said, his voice almost a whisper. He got up to leave, absently squeezing Starsky's shoulder as he went.
    "You'll regret this. You know what will happen *again* he'll go back to her. He'll leave you alone, *again*." A nasty voice in his mind taunted.
    "No, he won't. Things are different this time."
    "Why? Because he's not married to her? Because he's your partner? Because you think this time you mean more to him then she does?"
    "Because this time *I* won't walk away." He told the voice sternly, ending the 'conversation'.
    Hutch got out of his new, very used, car and walked around to the other side to open the door for Vanessa. After the look she gave his battered old car, perhaps she wouldn't think his cottage was so bad. He stepped past her and put the key in the lock. Part of him wanted to make conversation, to crack a joke, but he really had nothing to say. He opened the door, then stood back to let her in first. Then he followed, pulling the door shut behind them.
    "What a .. quaint little place." Vanessa commented, looking around at the surroundings, not letting her distaste in the cheapness of his place show.
    Hutch nodded ruefully. "I knew you'd like it," he said, walking to the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of beer. "You want something to drink?"
    "Do you have any *good* wine?" she asked, eyeing the beer in distaste.
    "I'm all out," he said. "I wasn't expecting company."
    "What do you have?"
    He made a show of looking in the fridge as though he were scrutinizing its contents. "Milk.... beer... more beer."
    "Then, no thank you, I am not thirsty."
    "Suit yourself," he said, swinging the fridge door shut. He went over to the couch and sat down heavily, beginning to feel the inevitable fatigue of his long work day.
    Vanessa walked over and sat beside Hutch, snuggling close to him.
    "Look, Vanessa," he said, leaning away from her slightly, "I didn't ask you here to resume old times. It's getting late and I'm sure you had a long trip today. You can have the bed. It's right through there," he pointed to a nearby door. "I'll take the couch."
    "We can share the bed." Vanessa said, looking at him hopefully. "I'd feel so much safer with you holding me."
    Hutch looked at her warily. Part of him wanted to. Part of him thought that if they got together again, he might have some say in how things were. They could stay here in Bay City, where his job was. He could stay partners with Starsky. If Vanessa wanted back in his life, she'd have to deal with that. He was sure he heard the sound of his little inner voice nodding emphatically. Anyway, what was the harm? Technically they were still married - they were only separated, no papers had been filed. Married people shared a bed. He knew he was making justifications because he could feel his resistance caving in. Ah, to hell with it, he thought. He was tired. "Okay," he whispered, and he held her in his arms as he led her to his room.
    Vanessa smiled at him, and allowed him to lead her to the bedroom. Once they stood beside the bed, she took the back of his head into her hand, pulling him towards her, and brushing a light kiss over his lips. "Thank you, Ken."
    "Don't mention it," he mumbled. His head was still cupped in her hands and he made no movement to pull it away this time. He thought that maybe he noticed the slightest gleam of triumph in her eye as he allowed her to kiss him more deeply. Or maybe it was his imagination. He was no longer in the mood to think about it. By the time they fell asleep in each other's arms, it had left his mind entirely.
    The next morning Starsky arrived at Hutch's to pick him up for work. Yesterday Hutch had driven and he had been left with no way home (except to con a ride from someone else) which he didn't plan on doing again, though he wasn't really upset - he knew Hutch had other things on his mind. He knocked on the door and there was no answer, which he found odd. Hutch was never one to oversleep. He took the door key from its 'hiding' spot and let himself in. He looked around the quiet room, a part of his mind said he should announce himself, but he remained quiet. He moved to the bedroom, and looked in to see Hutch and Vanessa curled up on the bed.
    "See he *is* going to go back to her. He already has. You're yesterday's news." The voice returned, and this time Starsky had no retort for it. He slammed door open all the way so it bounced off the wall, to startle the two sleeping Hutchinsons awake. "Time to rise and shine."
    Hutch nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sudden noise. Then he saw the source. "Starsky! What a..." he glanced over at Vanessa and realized what was happening. He grabbed his jogging pants off the floor and pulled them on quickly as he jumped out of bed. Starsky had already retired to the next room. Hutch had been in no position to notice the predatory smile that had spread across Vanessa's face when she spotted Starsky in the doorway. She couldn't have communicated herself any more clearly if she had put her thumbs in her ears, waggled her fingers and gone "Naa naa na naaa naaaaaa!"
    Hutch hurried into the living room, pulling the bedroom door shut as he did so. Starsky was standing with his back to him and he placed his arm on his partner's and spun him around. "Starsky? What's the matter with you?" he whispered fiercely.
    "Nothing's the matter with me. I'm not the one who overslept." Starsky replied shortly.
    Hutch rolled his eyes. "Don't start this with me, okay? The last thing I want is a replay of last time! Just..." he looked over at the stove. "Here, let me make some coffee," he said as he walked over and turned the burner on. "Just have some coffee and I'll get dressed and we'll go to work, okay?" He wanted desperately to placate his angry partner, but at the same time part of him was very annoyed and a little bit hurt. She'd been there less than a day, and here he was again in the middle with choices to make.
    "I didn't start anything." Starsky said crossly. Realizing things were starting to happen just as they did last time - and he already knew who would walk away a winner if it came down to it and it wasn't him nor was it Hutch, Vanessa would be the one and only winner. "Okay."
    Hutch looked at him dubiously a moment. The burning, angry hurt was still there. It was a little deeper down, not where it was noticeable to most people - but Hutch could see it. He took a hesitant step back towards his partner. An almost pleading step. "Starsk..." but he couldn't verbalize what he wanted to say. He stood there, looking at Starsky and feeling slightly foolish.
    "S'okay, Hutch." Starsky told him sincerely. He was still upset, but didn't want things to be like last time, to lose Hutch for so many years. He remembered what Hutch had said about how unfair things had been last time. "Sorry about waking you like that, next time I'll just dump a bucket of cold water on your head." he teased, with a grin that he hoped looked sincere.
    Hutch smiled slightly. He nodded, then tried for a second to remember what he'd been doing. He looked down at himself. "Clothes! Right," he said almost absently. "I was just getting dressed," he said, nodding towards the bedroom with a smile that had become self-conscious. "I'll be right out," he assured Starsky before retreating into the bedroom.
    Starsky shook his head, thinking for a moment how strange Hutch could be. For a brief moment things felt normal (or the normalness that had been their lives the past 4 months). That was, until Vanessa came out of the bedroom.
    Vanessa was wearing nothing but one of Hutch's shirts, buttoned strategically so that it just barely covered everything that would be unseemly to flaunt to a guest. She had been exiting as Hutch was entering, and as they passed she wrapped her arms around Hutch's neck. He glanced at Starsky awkwardly, then pulled away, shutting the bedroom door behind himself and leaving Vanessa in the living room with Starsky. He mused briefly that that probably wasn't the best idea, but it would probably look better to Starsky than if she'd been in the bedroom with him.
    "Coffee?" Starsky asked her with a fake politeness.
    "That'd be super, sweetie," she purred. The sly look on her face punctuated with amusement at the irritation on Starsky's. She was gloating.
    Starsky turned away, wondering for a brief moment if Hutch had any rat poisoning around he could add to her coffee (though it wasn't actually a sincere thought - just *wishful* thinking.) "So, you want that in a cup?"
    "Why? Do you drink it right out of the pot?" she inquired with mock curiosity. She detested smart-assed peasants.
    "No, but I could think of a few ways to give it to you."
    She smiled widely. "I'm sure you could," she said, then looked towards the closed bedroom door. "Though I don't think Ken would approve of most of them," she told him sweetly. She knew from the look on his face that he wanted to wipe the smug look off her own. She'd seen that look on his face the *last* time she'd won Ken's affections from him. She kept smiling at him.
    Starsky slowly approached her, glaring at her with hard and cold eyes. His dark blue eyes looked darker then normal and his look could freeze water. "If you do *anything* to hurt him, I swear that *you'll* be the sorry one." he said in a low voice.
    "Stop it," she said in a soft, sarcastic sneer. "You're scaring me."
    Starsky looked about to respond when Hutch emerged from the bedroom in jeans, a black turtleneck and his shoulder holster. He joined them. If he'd noticed the tension between them, he didn't show it. Perhaps it was simply what he'd expected.
    "C'mon Starsk, we're running late," he said. He turned to Vanessa. "Stay here," he told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Don't answer the door. I'll be back sometime tonight." He turned and strode towards the front door, not needing to look to know that Starsky was right behind him.
    Starsky wanted to comment on Hutch's behaviour but decided that discretion was the better part of valour and kept his mouth shut. He walked past Hutch and climbed in behind the wheel of his car. He thought of how Vanessa hadn't taken his warning seriously - but he was very serious. He wouldn't allow her to hurt his friend again and get away with it.
    "Can we stop and get a doughnut?" Hutch asked as they pulled away from the curb. "I'm starving." His tone was light and casual, the same as any other day. He obviously did not want to get into a discussion of the Vanessa issue again.
    He had noticed the tension and irritation in Starsky's expression and posture, but pretended not to. What purpose would it serve but start another fight?
    "We're already late." Starsky said, irritably.
    "Since when did we start worrying about that?" Hutch added, dismayed that irritation was beginning to creep into his own voice.
    "Well, I could drop you off at a doughnut shop and let you find your own way to work just like I had to find my own way home last night."
    Hutch fell silent a moment. He'd forgotten that he was Starsky's ride home. Then again, it's not like the city was without a taxi service. It was only *one* night. With extenuating circumstances. Hutch put a frustrated hand to his forehead and said "Okay, why don't you do that? In fact, why don't you pull over and drop me off right here? Would that help you get to work on time?" he added, becoming increasingly agitated. He stopped, realizing what he was doing. He looked at Starsky. "Sorry," he mumbled. He opened his mouth to add something, but couldn't compact what he was feeling into something as insignificant as words. "Sorry," he repeated, then turned his head and stared mutely and unseeingly out the window.
    "Fuck." Starsky cursed under his breath, slapping a hand against the steering wheel. He whipped the car over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. He reached over and grabbed Hutch's right shoulder forcing him to turn so that they faced each other. "Look, Hutch, I am not angry at you okay? It's just that this whole fucking situation ...just gets to me, okay? I don't want things to be like last time. I am not asking you to make a choice, I don't expect you to. You and me's partners and I want to keep it that way. I'll be around 'til you tell me to get lost. But, I *can't* get along with her. I don't trust her anymore then I'd trust a rattler not to strike .." Starsky paused for a moment. "And I don't want you to be the one that gets bit *again*."
    Hutch nodded dumbly, until he could find the ability to speak. "I don't expect you to like her," he said almost sadly. "I'm not sure that I do. But she needs my help. When we get to work, I'll call Beverly Hills. We'll get this thing sorted out." He looked away for a moment, but quickly locked gazes with his partner again. "I can do this for her. I can do this much for her. I need to. Can you understand that?"
    "Not really. I know I'd let her deal with it on her own. But ... coming from you I understand. It's just who you are. You tend to be rather devoted to the people you love ... too much so in some cases. She don't deserve it." Starsky said, thinking 'and neither do I'.
    Hutch nodded, his eyes still downcast. "Maybe you're right," he admitted. "But I need to think that you're not. At least for now..." he looked up at Starsky, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth just slightly. "Okay?" he asked, in a small peace-offering voice.
    "'Kay." Starsky said, hoping things with Vanessa didn't go as badly as he feared they were going to.
    They rode the rest of the way to the station in silence, but it was companionable, not frustrated.
    When they got into the Squad Room, Hutch sat down at his desk, took a second to breathe in and out a few times, then picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Beverly Hills Police Department. It rang several times and was answered by a female voice he didn't recognize. He asked for Sergeant Poole, an officer he knew he could trust, then waited for them to get him on the line.
    "Poole, here."
    "Hey, Dennis. It's Hutchinson."
    "Hello, Ken. How are you making out there in Bay City?"
    "Alright so far. Lucked out when they assigned my partner."
    Starsky had been sitting across the desk listening to Hutch's half of the converstation, and stuck his tongue at his friend over his comment about his partner.
    "Oh, well that's too bad. I know it can be a crying shame some of the people they allow to graduate from the academy, let alone those they allow to become detectives." Poole said.
    "Poole?" Hutch said.
    "What?"
    "I was joking. I got a fantastic partner," he explained. Poole was a good guy, but Hutch had forgotten that he lacked anything resembling a sense of humour. He was used to hanging out with Starsky by now - the walking one-liner. "Listen, Dennis, there was something I wanted to ask you about."
    Poole failed to see the humour in Hutchinson's joke and wondered what kind of partner the blond haired detective actually had. "And what would that be?"
    "Have you seen Vanessa since I left?"
    "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"
    Hutch took a breath. "Could you check something for me? Can you see if she's filed any sort of a complaint about a stalker in the last week or so? It may not have gotten on paper, but see if she talked to someone about it. She said she'd made a complaint that wasn't taken seriously. I know it'll take a bit of time, but I'd really appreciate it."
    "I haven't heard anyone mention anything about her coming around to file any sort of report, but I'll see what I can find out."
    "Thanks, Dennis. You can reach me here at extension 338. Talk to you later," he said and hung up the phone. He looked up to see Starsky looking at him expectantly. "He has to check around," he said, almost defensively.
    "Hey, I didn't say nothing."
    "I know," Hutch said, conceding. He fiddled with the pencil on his desk for a second. "He said he hadn't heard mention of her coming around. Don't you think that's odd? You'd think a report by a cop's wife - even his ex-wife - would have been at least looked into. It's not like nobody in the department knew her!"
    "Yeah." Starsky agreed. "even if it wasn't looked into you'd think he'd heard something at least."
    Hutch nodded glumly. "Maybe there's still an explanation besides the obvious," he said, not entirely convincingly.
    "You mean the one besides she made it all up. A nice little tale to play on your sympathies..." Starsky said, and stopped before saying anything else, even though he knew he'd already said too much - said enough to get Hutch angry.
    Hutch let his glance flutter up to his partner, then fall back down to the desk. "Something like that," he muttered, throwing the pencil down. It bounced a couple of times before rolling into the crack between Hutch's desk and the one beside it, lodging there because it wasn't quite thin enough to fall through.
    "Yeah well, maybe we should get to doing some real work before Dobey has a fit." Starsky said.
    Grateful for the obvious but much-needed change of subject, Hutch started sifting through the files on his desk. "Not like we're getting anywhere on this. None of it adds up," he said, more to make case-related conversation than anything else.
    "I know someone who might have some info for us but there's a slight problem ..."
    "What's that?"
    "I've busted him - twice. There's no way he'll talk to me."
    "Well, I'll go. Where can I find him?"
    Starsky grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down an address on a piece of paper. "Just ask for Eddie Banks."
    Hutch took the piece of paper, glanced at it and stuffed it in his pocket. "Eddie Banks," he repeated. "I'll let you know if I come up with anything," he promised and strode out of the Squad Room.
    Starsky waited until Hutch had left, then he left to do a little detective work of his own. He planned on having a talk with Vanessa as a police officer - and not her ex's friend (whom she hated). Starsky went to Hutch's cottage by the canal. He took a deep breath and slowly released it, preparing himself for the task at hand, before he let himself in.
    Vanessa was sitting on the couch, dressed now, with a mug of coffee in her hand, watching a daytime soap opera. She tore her eyes from it reluctantly when she heard the door open. "Ken, you're home ear..." She cut herself off the moment she saw who had actually entered the room. She stood up and faced him like a gunfighter at the OK Corral. "What the hell are *you* doing here?"
    "I came to ask you a few questions concerning your so called stalker, ma'am." Starsky said in a professional voice, but still his sarcasm could be heard.
    "So-called?" she sniffed. "What's the matter with cops anyway? When something is a crime against *women*, then it's not a crime. Not until it escalates into something unavoidably ugly - like murder."
    Starsky rolled his eyes. "It's only not a crime when there is no real stalker."
    She slapped him across the face. "My *life* is in danger, Officer!" she practically screamed. "How *dare* you!"
    Starsky resisted the urge to slug her. "Yeah and the biggest danger is not being able to find shoes that match your purse."
    "I don't have to listen to this *bullshit*," she told him. "Get out of here this *minute*. And tonight, when Ken comes home, I'll ask him if this is your usual procedure when dealing with the victims of crimes you're investigating, *Sergeant*."
    "Amazing that not a single officer in Beverly Hills knows a single thing about you filing, or even attempting to file a report." Starsky told her.
    "You talked to every single officer, did you?" she said. "Well, why don't you go track down a desk sergeant named Perkins and ask him again, because I *know* he wasn't paying any attention to my complaint, but I imagine he probably remembers our conversation, since he spent most of it undressing me with his eyes."
    "Cut the bullshit, Van, we both know damn well there is no stalker."
    "Oh? Is that so? Well, then, tell me something Detective Starsky: did you get your badge out of a box of Crackerjacks or did you have to send away an order form with the top flaps of three Cheerios boxes? Or did you just major in Jumping to Conclusions at the Police Academy?"
    Starsky laughed ruefully, refusing to let her get to him. "Gee, lady, ya ever consider a career in comedy?" he intentionally used bad grammar (and a thicker NY accent) to annoy her.
    "Get out," she told him chillingly, then turned around, sat down on the couch and started watching the TV show as if he weren't standing there at all.
    Starsky stepped in front of the TV and unplugged it. "What is it that you really want?"
    "I want my stalker to go to jail so I can have my normal life back. Do you think I like sitting around on my ass all day watching bad TV and drinking coffee?" she said poutily. "I can't go out at night... hell, I can't even go shopping in the middle of the day. Now I'm shut up in *this* place with only *you* to talk to. Where *is* Ken, anyway? Does he even know you're here?"
    "You want you normal life back here's a little advice, sweetheart, stop fucking with Hutch's life." Starsky told her coldly.
    "Who here is fucking with Hutch's life? *I'm* here by invitation and *you* never answered my question."
    Starsky strode over to the couch, he placed his hands on the back, on either side of her, and leaned in close to her so their faces were only inches apart. "And what question would that be?"
    "Does Ken know that you're here right now? And, since I'm pretty sure that I already know the answer to that: What will he do when he finds out, do you think?"
    "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't." Starsky replied evenly. "I am not concerned about what he'll do when he finds out. Doesn't worry me in the least. Does it worry you what he'll do when he finds out?" he questioned, obviously not referring to the same thing.
    "Not at all." She grinned that sly, predatory grin. "I imagine you've done me a great favour by coming here. Thank you so much. Go away now."
    "You should worry about what I'll do when he finds out though." Starsky told her, his gaze was cold and his voice chilling.
    "You're scaring me again," she said flatly. "You *must* stop doing that." She settled back down into her place on the couch, picked up a magazine and began to flip through it. "I believe you know where the door is," she said absently, not looking up.
    "You will get yours one day, Van, and I just hope I'm around to see it happen." No sense in pulling punches now; he knew he was already going to be in enough trouble with Hutch, having thrown this 'private party', so he figured he should at least make it worth his while.
    "Ooooooo," she said, mock-shuddering. "Don't let that door hit you in your cute little ass on the way out, now." She flipped the page in her magazine and continued to feign absorbtion in whatever was written there.
    "Ya should be careful with that magazine. Your life may in danger if ya get a paper cut."
    "Then why warn me, I should think the prospect would tickle you pink." She flipped to the next fascinating page.
    Starsky wondered how Hutch ever thought he loved this woman, she was a bitch from hell as far as he was concerned. She didn't seem like Hutch's type. "How long you plan on playing this game?"
    "What do you mean? This game where I tell you to leave my husband's house and you keep insulting me? Not too much longer. If you don't take a hike I'll call your police station and have a colleague or two of yours drag your ass out of here. Ken might even come down and do it himself. Now *that* would be my pleasure." She pointed her feline grin at him again for a moment, then turned back to the magazine.
    "You, see there is a problem with that logic. This house belongs to *my partner* and I have his permission to be here anytime I want to be ... open invitation." Starsky told her with a grin. "I could have them arrest you before they'd arrest me."
    "On what charge, Officer? Matching the One-Wit Wonder zinger for zinger? Tell you what - you don't think kicking you out is going to be very effective? I'm beginning to agree. So stay! Stay until Ken gets back. Then he can decide who stays and who goes."
    "Yeah, well, see you after work, honey." Starsky said with fake sweetness.
    "Looking forward to it, sweetie," she said, matching his saccharine sarcasm.
    Starsky turned and headed out the door, knowing he had just dug himself into a hole that he had no idea how to dig out of. He knew he had been too impulsive heading to Hutch's to talk to Vanessa ( as if he thought she'd admit the truth). He had just been concerned for Hutch. He knew Vanessa was up to no good, but just didn't have the proof. He realized he probably just made matters worse: in trying to keep Vanessa from hurting Hutch, he had ended up doing just that.
    Hutch walked into the Squad Room about an hour after he'd left to find his partner sitting with a file in his lap, his feet on the desk and a cup of coffee in his hand. He walked around to his own side of the desk and sat down. "Guess what?" he grinned.
    Starsky barely glanced up at Hutch, before looking back at the file. "I don't know, what?"
    Hutch's smile faded into concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to catch Starsky's eyes.
    "Just not in the mood for guessing games."
    "Oh," Hutch said uncertainly. He shuffled a couple of papers on his desk self-consciously. "Well, I'll just tell you then. Your Eddie Banks had a name.... took a little convincing to get him to share, but it *might* be a lead."
    'At least one of us had some luck.' Starsky thought. "And just what name did he give?"
    "Scott Kearns. Ring a bell?"
    Starsky looked up when he heard the name. "Thought he was in prison."
    "That can be checked, no?"
    "Things can always be checked." Starsky replied casually.
    Hutch looked at Starsky a moment, the possible double-meaning not lost on him. "Right. So we'll check."
    "Yeah, will do."
    "Did Dennis call while I was out? Is that what's with the foul mood?"
    "No, he didn't call." Starsky said, what he didn't tell Hutch was that he had called Poole. "And why would you think *that* had anything to do with my *foul* mood?"
    Hutch shrugged. "Something happened between when I left and when I got back that gave you a mood swing," he said firmly. Then he couldn't resist adding the jab - "Or is it just PMS?"
    Starsky threw the folder down on the desk. He didn't want to tell Hutch what was bothering him, but he didn't want Vanessa to tell her version to Hutch before he had his say about what really happened. "Let's talk elsewhere."
    Hutch looked at him uncertainly a moment, realizing that he probably didn't want to have the conversation that he'd just goaded Starsky into. He stood up. "Name the place."
    "We'll take a drive to the park and talk there."
    Hutch nodded, but said nothing. He followed Starsky out of the Squad Room.
    Starsky drove in silence as he thought of exactly how he was going to tell Hutch about his talk with Vanessa and the fact that he had called Poole. He knew his partner wasn't going to take the news well, and wondered if even after everything that happened over the past four months, if Vanessa would once again be the one to walk away the winner.
    Starsky stopped the car at the park, where he and Hutch often jogged - or at least where Hutch often jogged and sometimes dragged Starsky along. Starsky got out of the car and headed towards the trail waiting for Hutch to follow.
    Hutch caught up to his partner without hurrying. His long legs could be a distinct advantage at times. They walked side by side in silence for a couple of minutes. "Okay," Hutch finally said. "What is it?" He looked at Starsky. "It's not something I want to hear, is it?"
    "That's really an understatement." Starsky said, not looking at Hutch. "I just figured ... I at least wanted you to hear my side of what happened." he added in a quieter voice.
    Hutch looked at him hard. "Your *side*?"
    "At least as much of it as you're willing to listen to." Starsky mumbled.
    Hutch sighed. "What's that supposed to mean?" He stopped walking and stopped Starsky as well, by gripping his arm just above the elbow. "Look, just tell me whatever it is that you're trying not to tell me."
    Starsky was silent for a moment. "I went to talk to Vanessa."
    "What? What for?" Hutch asked, genuinely startled.
    "To ask her a few questions ... " Starsky's voice trailed off for a breif moment. "To try to find out what game she's playing before you get hurt *again* by her."
    "Oh, that's very *touching*, but what evidence do you have that she's playing *any* sort of a game? Besides the fact that you don't like her, I mean. I think we can both agree on the fact that that wouldn't make a very solid basis for an investigation?" It wasn't anger in his voice so much as incredulity. As it came out, he suspected that it *sounded* like anger and he winced inwardly very slightly.
    Starsky flinched, this was why he hadn't wanted to say anything to Hutch, but he knew if he didn't, Vanessa would and she would make things seem worse than what had happened. "It's more than dislike, it's also that I don't trust her. She likes playing *games* and she especially likes fucking with your life. That seems to be the game that she finds the most fun." Starsky sighed. "I just had the feeling that she wasn't being exactly honest ... she sure don't act like some woman whose so afriad because she's being stalked."
    "Maybe that's because her stalker is in Beverly Hills and she's here," Hutch retorted, but quietly. Starsky was only voicing aloud what the niggling little voice in the back of his mind had been whispering since Vanessa had got into town. And he didn't like it any better aloud. But, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't get angry at Starsky either. He wished it *was* a lie. If he could make it be not true by handing Starsky a good hard punch in the nose, he might. He just might. His best friend. He felt suddenly sick of himself.
    "There is *no* stalker," Starsky told him with conviction.
    "How do you know?" he asked. He couldn't muster enough voice for much more than a whisper. He put his hand to his head. He suspected the answer, but he wanted it from Starsky. He didn't trust himself just now.
    "I called your friend, Poole. Since she gave the name of the officer she gave her report to, Perkins. She gave a nice try to name someone who worked at that precinct, but the thing is he hasn't worked there in almost two years."
    Hutch nodded ruefully. "Well, thanks for your help with that problem," he said generically, as though he were talking to a technician from the phone company. "I'll, um, handle it from here." He started to walk off, not paying much attention to what direction he was going in. He didn't have a specific destination worked out anyway; his mind was reeling.
    Starsky sighed as he watched Hutch walk off, grateful that Hutch had at least listened to him for that long. Though he wasn't sure if Hutch actually believed a word he said. He debated going after Hutch, but he knew that wouldn't accomplish anything. Though he worried if he didn't that Hutch would just keep walking - walking right out of his life.
    Hutch walked around for hours before he finally found himself at home. Several times he'd vaguely wondered what had happened to Starsky. Well, he'd be around someplace. Now Hutch stood infront of his front door and looked at it for a moment, then reached up on top of the door frame and took the key. Opening the door, he peeked around it to see if Vanessa was in sight. She was - on the sofa watching television with a plate of salad on her lap. When he came in she looked up and smiled.
    "I'm so glad that you're home." Vanessa said sweetly, 'especially glad that you came alone.'
    "I thought you might be," Hutch said non-commitally, shrugging off his coat.
    "You know you really should think about getting some new friends." Vanessa said, sitting her salad down on the table.
    "You know what? You're not the first person to suggest that to me today," he told her, sitting down in a chair near the sofa - but pointedly not next to her on the sofa.
    "Oh, really?" Vanessa asked with a smile. "Other people try to tell you what a *freak* your partner is? Do you know what he had the nerve to do?"
    "Ummm, let me try and guess," he said, making an elaborate show of thinking about it. "See, I know how he thinks," he explained before launching into his 'guess'. "I bet first he came by here, then he had the gall to accuse you of *faking* this whole stalker thing..."
    Vanessa's smile faded slightly. "He came here threatening me."
    "Threatening? Really?" He looked surprised.... or a reasonable facsimile thereof. "Do you think I should arrest him?" he said, almost earnestly.
    "Maybe you should." Vanessa said seriously. "He said that I didn't need to worry about a stalker because he would take care of me first unless I did as he demanded."
    "Is that right?" Hutch mused aloud. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say." He grew more angry inside and more and more congenial outwardly as she spun her web of what were now *clearly* lies. She'd almost had him *again*. And he was *letting* her play him. Part of him had wanted her to. Now the whole thing disgusted him.
    "Well, he's not all that bright. No education ... surprised he ever graduated high school. I mean considering he was stupid enough to come here threatening me, thinking that you'd never find out."
    Hutch laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. "Yeah, know what else was stupid? This afternoon, he told me all about it *himself*." Hutch's voice had become hard by the end of the sentence.
    "Well, whatever he told you was all lies. I'm telling you the truth." Vanessa said. "Who are you going to believe: me, your wife? Or your white trash partner?"
    "Well, taking your respective track records into account, as well as the fact that we called Beverly Hills and confirmed that not only did you not make any sort of report about a stalker to them, but also Perkins hasn't worked there for two years.... I would have to go with my freak uneducated white trash partner," he said conclusively, his gaze hard and unwavering.
    Vanessa's eyes blazed with anger, she stood up and stepped over to Hutch. "He's the one lying to you, just because he knows he'll lose again."
    "He'll *lose*? Honey, the only person who ever lost was *me*." He didn't get up, didn't move, didn't change the tone of his voice. "Get your things and leave."
    "How dare you." She spat, and slapped him across the face. Then she smiled with fake sweetness. "You know, there is a stalker."
    "You?" he asked innocently.
    "Now, who would I want to stalk? Though you do get an 'A' for effort," she said, smilingly, as she slowly moved away from him.
    He rolled his eyes, but she'd had her back to him and missed it. "Okay," he said, "the dramatics were interesting, vaguely, in a car-crash kind of way… for a while. But I'm tired of it. You can leave now."
    She stepped back over to Hutch, and ran a finger along his cheek. "Maybe come tomorrow you'll find out about *my* stalker." she moved away. "Have fun playing cop."
    "Have fun driving home," he called to her as she went into the bedroom. Once she was in there, he quietly picked up his coat and slipped out the door. Half an hour later he found himself outside Starsky's apartment. Starsky wasn't home. He sat down in the corridor, his back against the apartment door, and waited.
    Hours later, there was still no sign of Starsky, and it was starting to get dark.
    Hutch got up, reached up over Starsky's door frame and took down the key. Screw politeness, he was starting to get concerned. Inside the apartment, he walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver, dialing the number for the precinct.
    Dobey grudgingly answered the ringing phone, only because nobody else was. "Yeah?" Dobey grumbled.
    "Captain?" Hutch asked, trying to keep the rising fear in his stomach under control. Dobey didn't answer the phone in the Squad Room unless there was nobody else to do it. "It's Hutchinson. Is Starsky still around there someplace?"
    "No, he isn't. What did you do, misplace your partner?" At times Dobey wished he had never partnered the two together, in the past four months they had given him so many headaches - but they were also proving to be the best team he had (which he never told them, not wanting them to get big headed about it).
    Hutch didn't know what to say. "You didn't happen to talk to him before he left, did you? Maybe he told you where he was going?"
    "I didn't talk to him, he didn't come back, either, after the two of your took off from here."
    "Thanks," Hutch said quickly and hung up before the Captain could answer (or question him further). He looked around. Had Starsky been home since they talked? How would Hutch know if he had? For a moment he was at a loss, then he rushed out of the apartment, locking the door behind him and replacing the key.
    Starsky came walking, or rather stumbling, towards his apartment. There was a cut on his forehead that was bleeding, or had been bleeding, leaving a trail of crimson blood along the side of his face. His clothes dirty and torn, he walked as though he was stiff and sore all over.
    Hutch stepped out of the front door of the apartment building, not sure of his next course of action. It was twilight now, and everything was a shadow or a silhouette. One of them was staggering down the sidewalk towards him. A drunk? But its shape was familiar somehow. Hutch took a step towards it, then recognized the face as it came under a streetlamp.
    "Starsky?" he said with some alarm. He rushed over, propping up the injured man. He placed a hand under Starsky's chin and turned his face up to him so he could see it. It was battered and bleeding. "Oh God," Hutch breathed. "Starsk, are you alright? What happened?"
    Starsky mumbled something unintelligible and tried to pull away from Hutch.
    Hutch held onto Starsky's jacket. He wasn't sure that he *could* let go at this point. He didn't have a clue what Starsky had just tried to tell him. It didn't seem too terribly important just at the moment. Still clutching Starsky's jacket with one hand, he reached his other arm around the shorter man's back to help him walk. "C'mon, let's go inside," he murmured, turning them towards the building.
    Starsky tried to pull away from Hutch, but didn't seem to have the strength left to do so. All he managed to do was trip, and he would've fallen if Hutch hadn't been holding him.
    Hutch stopped as Starsky practically threw himself on the ground. "What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong??"
    He allowed them to slump to the sidewalk together. It was the closest he could come to letting go and he could tell Starsky had been trying to pull away.
    "Jus' leave me alone." Starsky mumbled.
    Now Hutch slowly released his grip on his partner. "Starsky," he asked softly, almost pleadingly, "what happened to you?"
    "As if you don't know."
    Horrified confusion crept across Hutch's features. "I don't know, Starsk, and you're scaring the shit out of me."
    "You want to keep fucking with her go right ahead ... just leave me outta it."
    "What? Starsk, after I talked to you today I went home and asked her to *leave*. I kicked her *out*, do you hear me? I told her to go home!"
    "Don't lie to me, Hutch."
    "Since when do I *lie* to you, Starsky?" Hutch hissed. "Just tell me what the hell happened to you and we'll straighten it out!"
    "Jus' ferget it. Go home to your wife."
    Hutch, who'd been crouching until then, plopped down onto his rear in resignation. "If she's still there, then I have nowhere to go," he said. "That's why I came here." He looked up at Starsky. "When you get inside, give Captain Dobey a call so he won't worry," he told him, then slid over to sit on the curb, his back to his partner and his feet in the gutter.
    Starsky rubbed his aching head, and tried to slowly pull himself to his feet. He felt dizzy as he leaned against the building. His stomach churned and he began to vomit. He took a couple of stumbling steps away and collapsed to the ground as darkness over took him.
    Hutch turned when he heard the retching. When he saw Starsky collapse, he jumped to his feet and ran over to where he'd fallen. He picked him up and carried him inside the building, laying him on the sofa inside the apartment before picking up the phone and calling an ambulance.
    Starsky moaned lightly as consciousness slowly began to return, his head pounding like a jackhammer. Hutch was slumped in a chair next to his partner's hospital bed, as he had been since the doctor left. He was dozing lightly. Starsky's eyes flickered open, only to close again, the bright light only served to hurt his eyes. It had taken him a brief moment to realize that he was at the hospital. He didn't need to turn his head to look to know that Hutch was there, but made no movement to alert his partner that he had regained consciousness.
    Hutch's head jerked up and he realized he'd drifted off again. He looked at Starsky. No change, he thought sullenly. "Starsk?" he said quietly. The dim silence of the sleeping ward made him unwilling to raise his voice. It wasn't needed anyway - if his partner was able to hear him, he could hear his voice at this low register. You could hear a pin dropped down the hall in here. And if he wasn't... well, then, it wouldn't make a difference *how* loud he spoke. "Starsk?"
    "Yeah?"
    Hutch bolted forward in his chair. "Oh thank God," he said. "Are you okay? What happened to you? The doctor said you had a concussion. Who did this to you?" It vaguely occurred to him that he was babbling, but he didn't really care.
    "Other then having one hell of a headache I am fine." Starsky said, intentionally only answering only one of Hutch's questions as he opened his eyes to look at his partner.
    Hutch looked at Starsky almost imploringly. Instinctively he started to reach out to put his hand on his partner's face or shoulder or arm, but remembering Starsky's reaction on the sidewalk, he thought better of it and awkwardly let his hand fall into his own lap instead. "You're still not going to tell me what happened, are you?" he asked quietly. He looked at Starsky a moment as something occurred to him. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked numbly. He suddenly felt exhausted.
    "No." Starsky said, answering both questions with the one simple word. He was thinking more clearly now than he had been earlier (before he had passed out) and he doubted that Hutch would have a very positive reaction about what had happened.
    "I see." He leaned back in his chair again. "Do you remember anything that happened outside your apartment before you passed out?"
    Starsky blinked his eyes seemingly thinking carefully about what Hutch had asked. 'Would it really be lying if I said no?' he asked himself. He remembered, at least vaguely, the *discussion* he'd had with Hutch. The memory was slightly blurred, as he hadn't been in his right mind at the time (the head injury having played its own games). "No." Starsky said quietly.
    "Then I guess you don't remember me telling you that I told Vanessa to leave. I sent her away. I'm through with her for good." He looked at Starsky carefully. "See, the only reason I can think of that you wouldn't tell me what happened is that it has something to do with her. As corollary evidence, I would support that statement with the way you were carrying on outside your apartment. If that's the case, then tell me." He sat up and leaned close over the bed. "Tell me what happened."
    Starsky sighed. "You don't want to hear it. And last time ... just leave it be."
    Hutch, still leaning over the bed, looked away for a moment. He could feel the stinging knot of helpless frustration starting to squeeze his stomach. He turned back to his partner. "Damn it, Starsky! Don't try to protect me from myself, will you? What about *you*?"
    "What about me?" Starsky questioned simply, he wasn't sure why he was arguing with Hutch - it just seemed to be happening as though the words were being said by someone else. "I can take care of myself, I don't need you to take care of me."
    Hutch nodded. "No," he said flatly. "I can see you're doing a wonderful job of it."
    "Yeah, well, I'm still alive aren't I?"
    "Something that looks like you is." Hutch stood up. "If you see my partner around, tell him to give me a call. I'm worried sick about him." He turned and headed for the door.
    Starsky cursed under his breath, closing his eyes against the steady throbbing pain. He didn't want Hutch to leave, he didn't want to be alone, but he resisted the urge to say anything to stop Hutch. "Maybe his life will be better if does just walk away now. If that bitch is out of his life ... and if ...he goes and gets a new partner .. new best friend ... new start away from the two people who fucked up his life." Starsky thought sadly, he didn't want to be without Hutch - but if it was truly for the best he would never stop Hutch from leaving - and he felt it was for the best.
    Hutch stood in the doorway a moment, then slowly turned his head to look at Starsky. "If my partner doesn't call tonight, I'll come check up on you in the morning," he said quietly, then slipped away.
    Starsky looked towards the door. "Goodbye, Hutch." Starsky whispered, his voice sad. A part of him wished he had just allowed Vanessa to play her game then pick up the pieces after, wondering if that would've been easier, his best intentions hadn't stopped Hutch from getting hurt. If anything he'd only ended up hurting Hutch worse, and now the pieces seemed to be scattered.
    Hutch went back to Starsky's apartment. He had the sneaking feeling that Vanessa may still be in his. He didn't want to find out. He curled up in the bed, but sleep didn't come for some time. He lay in the dark, just thinking, until he drifted off.
    Starsky debated calling Hutch, but before he could even make a decision the doctor came in and gave him medicine to ease his headache. He was sound asleep within minutes.
    Hutch's eyelids fluttered open to the sight of daylight making patterns on the wall as it filtered through the cracks between the curtains. He experienced a momentary disorientation until he realized where he was and why. He got up and headed for the hospital.
    Starsky was just starting to wake up, still feeling groggy. Even though he had *slept* he hadn't *rested*. His sleep had been plagued by a series of bad dreams that he could never wake from and at this point he wasn't sure what had been a dream and what had really happened. Hutch walked into the hospital room hesitantly. He felt a little bad about the way he'd left. But then, damn it, Starsky wouldn't talk to him anyway. He couldn't tell if Starsky was sleeping or awake. He didn't ask. He slipped over to the chair by the bed and sat down.
    "Hey," Starsky greeted Hutch, almost cautiously.
    "Hi. How are you feeling this morning?" The question was loaded and he knew it. But he needed something. This wall that had sprung up between them wouldn't do.
    "I've been better ... and right now I just want out of here."
    "I talked to the doctor on my way in here. He said you need to stay for at least another day."
    "Oh, joy." Starsky said sarcastically. "I really hate hospitals." he mumbled. "Not a nice place to stay. The food's terrible and the service is lousy."
    Hutch reached into his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag. Wordlessly, he opened the plastic bag, pulled out a hamburger and set it on the tray, which he then positioned over the bed. "Sorry there's nothing to drink. I couldn't fit a large coke in my coat."
    "Hey, at least it's real food ... isn't it? It's not something strange like one of your tuna burgers, is it?" Starsky asked, cautiously lifting the top bun slightly to examine the contents of the hamburger, acting as though there had not been even the slightest hint of tension between them just last night.
    "Would I do that to a sick man?"
    "Yes." Starsky said, picking up the burger as though he thought it might bite him before he bit it. He took a bite, finding it was normal. "Tastes good," he said around his mouthful.
    "Thought it might. You've been on hospital food for.... gasp all of 14 hours. How you've been suffering!"
    "Well, with the lousy service ... haven't actually had anything to eat. Just this ..." Starsky said wiggling the IV tube slightly.
    Hutch nodded. "Speaking of that..." he said, his voice trailing off.
    "What 'bout it?" Starsky asked, fiddling with what was left of the burger, suddenly not feeling as hungry as he just had been moments ago.
    "Finish eating first," Hutch said, in an almost maternal tone.
    Starsky took a few more bites, in all finishing just a little more then half, then set the rest down, pushing it away. "Not that hungry." he said, truthfully, he doubted his stomach could handle eating anymore then he had.
    They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. The kind of silence they had when they first started working together several months ago. The kind that seemed miles wide. "Will you tell me what happened now?" Hutch finally asked. "Please?"
    "He never said anything about her being involved, really ... at least not just her ..." Starsky said, refusing to look at Hutch. "Said it was more just you."
    "Me? Hold on a second, this guy who beat you up said it was *my* idea?" Hutch asked, incredulity raising his voice. "What did the guy look like? Did you recognize him?"
    "Yeah, he said it was your idea." Starsky said refusing to expand and tell Hutch exactly what had been said. The conversation was unimportant anyway. "He looked like a linebacker. And, no, I didn't recognize him."
    "What did he say to you? What exactly did he say to you?" Hutch was so angry he could hardly see through his eyes. "Tell me his exact words."
    "He said, you didn't take kindly to people giving your *wife* a hard time..." Starsky paused, waiting for Hutch's reaction.
    Hutch raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
    "Said there really was a stalker ... and about you hiring him to prove a point about stalkers."
    Hutch leaned his elbow in the arm of the chair and dropped his head into his hand. "Go on," he said thickly.
    Starsky glanced at Hutch for a long minute, before turning away again. "Said that this time the game was over ... and that I should get the hint about who always wins ... that *everything* has been nothing more then a game."
    "What did he hit you with? His bare fists?"
    "After I got the baseball bat away from him, yeah."
    "What else did he say? Did he say anything else?"
    "Um ..." Starsky said, trying to think of what else had been said, he felt there was more that he couldn't remember, some of the details were a little fuzzy.
    "Well?"
    "Don't remember." Starsky said quietly, and looked at Hutch. "It's not *all* a game, is it?" he asked his voice dropping even softer.
    "Good God, Starsky. What am I supposed to tell you? I suppose it depends who you're talking to, doesn't it? You still don't remember last night? Outside your apartment? You believed him, pal. You *believed* him. You tell me if it's all a game."
    Starsky flinched. "I don't just mean *this* I mean *everything*. …He said something to the effect that you wanted to put an end to the whole *game* now because it was no longer amusing you." Starsky stared at the ceiling. "Maybe that much is true ... I mean ever since I've been in here you haven't ..." his voice trailed off as he found he didn't know exactly how to put what he wanted to say into words. Saying it simply made it seem something different then it was. Hutch hadn't touched him. In the whole time they knew each other they both had been 'touchy'. There was a lot of contact between the two, but Starsky found it wasn't something he could put into words - and perhaps it didn't mean as much to Hutch as it did to him.
    Hutch looked at Starsky; his expression softened. Absently, he placed a hand in Starsky's hair. "Outside your apartment I tried to help you up, to get you inside. You almost killed yourself trying to pull away from me. You told me to get away from you. You told me to leave you alone." He paused a moment, his voice faltered. "You told me to go home to my wife." He shrugged and made a pitiful attempt at a smile. "I wasn't sure how much your position on the subject had changed."
    Starsky visibly relaxed the second Hutch's hand came to rest against his hair. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, ya know. Some things about last night are fuzzy and some are just plain blank spots."
    Hutch nodded. "I suppose I had an inkling of that... rationally," he said. "But it hurt like hell," he added quietly.
    "Sorry." Starsky apologized sincerely. "I don't remember what happened, really. I kinda remember talking to you, fighting or something ... but not about what. I don't even know how I got home from the park, let alone how I ended up in the hospital." Starsky sighed. "Aren't head injures wonderful." he added sarcastically.
    Hutch laughed as the tension that had been sitting between them for the better part of two days melted like the Wicked Witch of the West at the end of the Wizard of Oz. "Listen," he said, "I have to go take care of a couple of things. I'll be back." He gave Starsky's hand a squeeze and stood up.
    "Just be careful, okay?" Starsky told Hutch. He knew Hutch intended to either talk to Vanessa or find his attacker - or both.
    "Oh, I have to be. If something happens to me, how are you going to get any decent food in you in the next 24 hours?"
    "I could con someone else into smuggling me food ... put I don't want to replace a partner after just getting him all wore in."
    "Funny, I said that exact thing to myself last night." He moved to the door. "See you in a little bit."
    "See ya later, Blondie." Starsky said. "And, Hutch ..."
    "Hmm?" he said, stopping in the doorway and turning back.
    "Just be careful, seriously. It's not worth taking any chances on."
    "I promise I'll be careful, but I can't agree with you - partner." He strode away before Starsky could attempt to argue.
    Starsky hated just sitting there in the hospital, and more than that he was worried about Hutch. If Hutch went after the *stalker* he would be going it alone, with no back up, and that worried Starsky. He decided that his partner needed back up and he was going to give it him. He winced as he pulled the IV out of his hand and climbed out of the bed. He felt dizzy as he stood up, his vision slightly blurred. He found his clothes in the closet of the room and slowly got dressed. Starsky cautiously left the room hoping no one spotted him - and nobody did. He used a payphone to call an old friend. Even though it had been a few months since he had spoke to him, his friend was willing to help. Starsky made his way outside to wait for his friend to arrive. He sat down in the shade of one of the trees. Leaning back against the thick trunk, he closed his eyes against the headache, though his worry for Hutch outweighed his pain.
    Hutch stormed into his apartment and looked around. He found Vanessa sitting on the bed grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
    "About time you got home, dear."
    "Is it? What time is it anyway? Thing about hospitals, there's never a clock on the wall," he said, his fury lurking just under his brusque exterior.
    "Oh, you were at the hospital?" She asked, as though she was truly concerned.
    "Yep," he said, almost conversationally, but the caustic undertone couldn't be missed. "Just visiting, though."
    "Well, as long as you're okay."
    He spun on her. "I'm *not* okay. *Nothing* is okay!"
    "Everything seems okay to me." Vanessa said, smiling sweetly - almost laughingly.
    "It would. It's *your* doing. The devil always delights at his own tricks."
    "And just what is that suppose to mean?" Vanessa asked, as she stood up, taking a couple steps towards Hutch. "Just what is it you think I did."
    "Nothing," Hutch responded. His voice was quiet now. Almost subdued. "And everything." He looked at her a moment, almost as though he was going to take her in his arms. "Good-bye Vanessa," he whispered, then turned to go.
    "And just where do you think you're going?" She asked. "Or - let me guess - you're rushing back to the hospital ..."
    He stopped and half-turned back to face her. "What for?" he asked sadly. He turned the rest of the way around and stood in front of her. "You know, you could save me a lot of time. Give me the name."
    "And what name would you like?"
    "Don't play coy with me. Don't let's pretend that you don't know anything about anything. Give me the name of the man you hired to beat on Starsky."
    Vanessa grinned. "Did he even wake up yet?" she asked in mock concern.
    "Don't worry," Hutch said coldly. "If he didn't wake up, you'd know by now." Her face became somewhat inscrutable - he wasn't quite sure how she'd taken the very thinly veiled threat. "The name."
    "How would I know. After all it wasn't me who hired someone to do it ...."
    "Oh? But somehow the news got back to you did it? Someone sent you a carrier pigeon, knowing how concerned you'd be?"
    "Something like that." Vanessa said with a smile. "I told you there was a *stalker*."
    "And I told you it was you," Hutch said, turning and striding out of the bedroom.
    "And just who does your partner think it was?" she asked, speaking the words 'your partner' as though they left a bad taste in her mouth.
    Hutch turned to look at her as she stood in the bedroom doorway. "If you won't give me the name, then you're no good to me. I'm wasting my time here. I have to go." He turned towards the front door.
    "You want a name, fine!" Vanessa yelled. "Vinnie Macon. Won't do you any good though and it won't do your partner any good either."
    Hutch's blood froze and he turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?" He advanced on her suddenly, surprising her. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "What's that supposed to *mean*?" he yelled.
    "Let go of me." Vanessa said coldly, as she tried to pull away for Hutch's firm grip.
    He did not let go. His fingers dug into the flesh of her shoulders as she tried to pull away. "What's going to happen?" he said, panic edging into his plea. "What did you send him to do?!"
    "Now, why would you think I sent him to do anything? It's not my name on the contract."
    "No, it's Starsky's," Hutch said plainly. "What *else* does the contract say?"
    "You took out the contract you should know." she said mockingly.
    He threw her roughly onto the couch and ran out of the apartment. He jumped into his car, put the light on the roof, turned on the siren and sped off towards the hospital. Hutch raced towards the hospital, repeating "Please be okay please be okay please be okay" under his breath like a mantra.
    Starsky watched the cars as they came and went, at least when he wasn't closing his eyes against the pain. He was starting to wonder what was taking so long. Huggy got out of his car to find his old friend slumped against a tree trunk in front of the hospital. It said something perhaps about the hospital's staffing situation that nobody had picked him up and dragged him back in. He was clearly in no condition to be out and about.
    "Starsky? Man, you're a wreck. You didn't explain that part on the phone! Do you really think this is a good idea? Maybe you should go back to *bed*."
    "I'm fine, Hug." Starsky lied. He felt anything but fine. "I don't have time to go back to bed. I need to find Hutch."
    "What *for*? I don't know the dude, but I'm betting he's a big boy and is probably in a whole lot better shape than *you* are," Huggy told him, eyeing him dubiously.
    "And I want to make sure that he *stays* in better shape." Starsky said, struggling to get to his feet. He was so dizzy that he almost fell over. "You gonna help me or not?"
    "*Okay*, okay," Huggy said, taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. He steadied him a second, then guided him over to the car and continued to support him as he slid into the passenger's seat. Just as he got Starsky settled, Huggy was aware of a beat-up brown car screeching to a halt in front of him. The driver jumped out and flew at him in a blur of blond hair and leather jacket, tackling him to the ground. He hit the sidewalk hard, knocking the wind out of him and his big, blonde attacker was on top of him.
    Starsky blinked trying to comprehend what had happened. He moved half to get out of the car only to drop back into the seat. "HUTCH!" he shouted at his partner.
    Hutch had the other man pinned under him now. He'd rolled him onto his stomach and was sitting on his back, holding his arms behind him. Hutch looked up. "Are you okay, Starsk?"
    "What are you doing?"
    "What do you mean?" Hutch frowned. "Did he hit you in the head again?"
    "What ..." Starsky said then realized what Hutch was thinking. "It wasn't him, Hutch, he's a friend of mine."
    Hutch looked at the very subdued man he was sitting on. "He is?"
    "Yeah, he is." Starsky said. "He was gonna help me find you 'til you found us first."
    Hutch let go of the man's hands and slid off of him. "Sorry," he said. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, then thought better of it and closed it again. Finally he took a breath, "I'm Ken Hutchinson... nice to meet you," he said awkwardly.
    Huggy sat up and eyed Hutch suspiciously. "Huggy Bear," he said by way of introduction. "If you greet all your new acquaintances that way, I bet you don't have a lot of friends."
    Starsky chuckled. "That's not the only reason he don't got a lot of friends." he teased.
    "Nice way to talk to a guy who was trying to save your life just now!" Hutch teased back. "At considerable risk to his own, I might add!"
    "Ohh, yeah Huggy's a real danger." Starsky joked, then his expression turned serious. "It's the *only* risk you're worried about, right?"
    "Starsk, did I know he was here? I didn't race back here at break-neck speeds for nothing." He stopped, swallowing hard. He needed to control himself. He was frustrated, angry... a little guilty. But he couldn't take it out on Starsky. He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "I talked to Vanessa. She took out a contract on you. In *my* name. I guess a happy ending for her at this point is my ass in jail and yours in the ground."
    Starsky frowned slowly getting out of the car. He looked at his friend, Huggy. "Thanks, for the help, Hug. I'll talk to you later, okay?" he said, not wanting to get anyone else involved.
    "Are you crazy, man? You heard what blondie here said? You're in some serious danger and I can back that up - I heard around that there was some serious money being handed out for the dusting of a cop."
    "Well, if you hear where this prospective cop-killer might be at a given moment, let us know," Hutch told him.
    Huggy looked at him. Scrutinized him. He looked at Starsky. Starsky nodded. Hutch would look out for him. He trusted Hutch. "Okay," Huggy said to both of them. He helped Starsky out of the car and handed him off to Hutch, then got in and pulled away.
    Starsky leaned against Hutch. "How badly did things go with her?" he asked almost cautiously. He knew everything that was happening was hard on Hutch, and hoped she hadn't made things worse (though he was sure she had managed to do just that - she always seemed to do just that).
    "The usual," Hutch muttered. "Look, I don't want to bring you back to your room. That's probably the first place he'll look for you. The second would be your apartment. We can't go to mine, because Vanessa is still there... as far as I know anyway. Where does that leave us?"
    "Let's just go to my apartment, okay? I don't really want to spend anymore time in the hospital." Starsky said. "This time you are staying, though. You try to take off and I'll call Huggy, again." he said, his voice playfully stern.
    "Fair enough," Hutch said, truly smiling for the first time in what seemed like an age, and helped him into the car.
    Starsky closed his eyes for a moment, after getting settled into the car. Once Hutch was in the car Starsky opened his eyes and looked at his partner, grateful to have a friend like Hutch. He remembered some things he had said to Hutch and felt terrible, knowing the pain the words had caused Hutch - when the last thing Hutch needed was someone else making him feel bad.
    "Thanks, Hutch." Just how much he was thanking him for wasn't clear.
    Hutch looked at him a moment. "Don't mention it," he said, then turned the key to start the car.
    Starsky glanced out the window. "Sorry for making things worse," he whispered. "Ya know if you really want to leave ....." his voice trailed off as he found he couldn't even say the words.
    "Don't," Hutch murmured. "Don't do that to yourself. Just forget about that. Close your eyes. I'll wake you up when we get there."
    Starsky smiled slightly, and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. "'Kay," he said simply, knowing nothing else needed to be said.
    When they pulled up in front of Starsky's building, Hutch was almost loathe to wake him up. He needed the rest. But he couldn’t sleep in the car. Hutch got out of the car and looked around. Nothing seemed suspicious or out of place. Though it shouldn't, really. They were dealing with a professional. He walked around to the passenger side, keeping himself very aware of the street around him. He opened the passenger side door and shook Starsky gently. "Hey," he whispered. "C'mon, we're here."
    Starsky moaned as he woke up, not really wanting to wake up, almost like a baby who *wanted* to be driven around in a car in order to sleep. "Already? You musta really been speeding."
    Hutch looked at him with mock indignation. "Me? I'm not the hothead with the lead foot." He offered his arm to help his partner out of the car.
    Starsky slowly climbed out of the car, with Hutch's help, still feeling too much asleep to respond to Hutch's comment.
    Hutch still glanced around them as he helped Starsky to the door of his building. He caught a look from Starsky. "I'm not paranoid." Starsky raised an eyebrow. "I'm not! I just want to make sure I see our friendly neighbourhood hitman if he's around... preferably *before* it's too late."
    "What makes you think he'll try again?" Starsky asked. "Maybe he accomplished what he was supposed to ... " Starsky's voice trailed off. "I mean he left me alive the first time .. so maybe it was something other than death he was goin’ for."
    "That's not the impression I got from Her Highness the Duchess of Misery."
    "Yeah, but maybe she'd wanted you to take it wrong to make you do something rash."
    "Like what?" he asked. "Besides attacking your friends, I mean," he added almost sheepishly.
    "Like going after this guy and getting hurt yourself."
    "Well I'm not going after the guy, am I?" he asked rhetorically as he fumbled for Starsky's key with his free hand and opened the apartment door. "So I guess that put a spoke in her wheel, huh?"
    "I guess." Starsky said, though he still sounded skeptical. "Maybe she was just trying to wreck our partnership, or something. Ya know what I mean?"
    "Well that was her ulterior motive all along. But she upped the ante when she couldn't. You heard Huggy, didn't you? Someone put down a big wad to have a cop killed. I'm going to stay more than mildly concerned about that for a bit, if it's okay with you."
    "She never could, nobody ever could." Starsky said. "Despite anything I said last night ... I didn't mean it Hutch, really I didn't."
    "I know," Hutch told him, trying to get him to lay down. "I know you didn't. Just get some rest, okay? You need it." He looked at him mock-sternly. "Don't make me take you back to the hospital, young man," he said, wagging his finger at him.
    "Yes, mom." Starsky said, with a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You know ... it was suppose to have been your turn next."
    "My *turn*?" he asked, confused.
    "Yeah, 'member, our first case, I got stabbed ... told ya then if this was to become habit it was your turn next."
    Hutch laughed softly. "Okay, I get the next two," he said. "Now get some sleep, okay? Do you want some aspirin or something?"
    "Uh-uh." Starsky replied, his voice slightly mumbled as sleep was starting to take over. "You're staying, right?" he asked as though he had forgotten.
    "Yep. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." He stroked his hair away from his face as he spoke, then stood up and quietly slipped into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He had to keep watch, so he had to stay awake.
    Hutch dragged a chair into Starsky's bedroom and sat by the bed all night. He left the bedroom door open so he could hear any sounds coming from the rest of the apartment. It was a tense vigil, but as the sun started to rise he began to think that nothing was going to happen after all. He put a hand on Starsky's forehead for a second, then slipped quietly into the next room. He rummaged through a few drawers, feeling a little bad about the invasion of privacy even though he knew Starsky wouldn't mind, until he found what he was looking for. A small black address book. He opened it up and flipped through the pages until he found a number scrawled next to the name "Huggy Bear". He picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang for a long time before someone picked up.
    "Yeah, what?" a very sleepy Huggy mumbled as he answered the phone.
    "Huggy?" Hutch said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "It's Ken Hutchinson. Starsky's partner?"
    Huggy became more awake, upon hearing who it was on the other end of the line, recalling how bad his friend had looked yesterday before he had left him with the blond stranger (at least a stranger to him, Starsky obviously knew him well). "How's he doing?" there was genuine concern in his voice.
    "Alright. Well, the same, I guess. Look, there's something I have to do and I don't want to leave him alone. There may or may not be someone trying to kill him - that's what I aim to straighten out. Will you come and sit with him while I'm gone?"
    "Does he know you plan on taking off, my man?" Huggy asked. "'Cause last time he was so determined to take off looking for you that I doubt anything woulda stopped him."
    "If he asks where I am, tell him I went to get some chicken soup. There's no food in this place anyway. I'll grab some while I'm out."
    "Jus' give me about 20 minutes."
    "Okay." Hutch hung up the phone and peeked into the bedroom again. The living room was becoming bright with sunlight, but the bedroom, with the blinds pulled, was still fairly dark. Starsky was a silent, unmoving shadow in the middle of the room. Hutch went into the kitchen to make some more coffee. Huggy would probably want some.
    Huggy made his way to Starsky's apartment. Even though he hadn't talked to Starsky in several months, he still thought of him as a good friend and was concerned about his safety. He knocked on the door once, and waited for Hutch to answer.
    Hutch opened the door as quietly as possible.
    "Thanks," he said to Huggy, stepping aside to allow him in. "There's coffee on the stove. Try not to do anything to wake Starsky up. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, right?"
    "Well, Starsky can sleep like the dead so it shouldn't be too hard to not wake him."
    "Right." Hutch patted his pockets to make sure he had everything. He looked towards the bedroom door, then glanced back at Huggy. "Right. I'm off. I'll be right back." He left, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.
    He drove straight to his apartment and went inside. He looked around. "Vanessa?" No answer. She was gone. He went into the bedroom. There was a note on the nightstand. He picked it up and read it to himself.

Dearest Ken,

I don't know what got into me. I was thinking about our last conversation as I lay here in your bed alone. I'm afraid I may have gotten a little carried away. Don't worry about your friend anymore. It's all over. I'd say I was sorry if I thought it would do the least bit of good. Maybe I'll see you around sometime, though I don't think that's likely. Good-bye Ken. I will always cherish our time together.

All my love, Vanessa.

    Starsky blinked his eyes as he woke up. The headache was gone, at least for the most part. He felt a little stiff still, but for the most part he felt good. Starsky climbed out of bed, noticed the chair in the room, and figured Hutch most of spent at least some of
the night in the room with him. He couldn't help but smile at that thought. It proved that despite what happened there had been no damage to their friendship (unlike last time). He walked out to the other room, startled to see Huggy sitting there and not Hutch, after all Hutch had said he was going to stay. "Where's Hutch?"
    Huggy looked up from his coffee with surprise. "Uh, he went on a grocery run, man. Your cupboard is barer than Mother Hubbard's!"
    "How long ago'd he leave?" Starsky asked, wondering why Hutch would've rushed out for groceries. "And, not that I don't appreciate your company, why are you here?"
    "Well, first of all, he only left about 10 minutes ago," Huggy lied. "And secondly," he added, somewhat indignantly, "*I* was concerned about your well-being. You weren't exactly in your best of health staggering around the front of the hospital yesterday... when you could walk at *all*." He added. "SO, when I showed up Hutch thought that it would be okay if he stepped out for a minute, since I could play nurse if you happened to wake up... as you have." He looked at Starsky a second, trying to gauge his reaction. "Can I get you anything? Though, all you *got* is coffee and a few putrid looking leftovers, since Hutch isn't yet back with the real food."
    Starsky looked skeptical but seemed to accept Huggy's story. He sat down on his wicker chair facing his friend. "Not hungry anyway." It was only half a lie - he was hungry but was still too worried about Hutch to think about eating. He'd wait until his partner got back before even considering food. He was quiet for a couple moments. "Sorry about yesterday."
    "Sorry? What for? Interrupting my busy schedule or trying to bleed on me?" Huggy asked, shrugging it off in his unique, colourful way. "Don't worry about it, man."
    Starsky smiled slightly. He wondered if his two friends would get along after their 'rough' first meeting.
    Hutch stared at the note for a second, then went into the kitchen, pulled some matches out of the drawer and lit it. He held it by the corner for a moment, watching it burn. "Good bye, Vanessa," he whispered, then dropped it into the sink. He pulled some cans of soup from a cupboard and, from the fridge, a new carton of milk and a bottle of orange juice. He put them in a brown paper bag and went back to the car to drive back to Starsky's place.
    "I hope you aren't too mad about yesterday." Starsky said. "I didn't know who else to call .."
    "Don't sweat it. It was good to see you again. I was wondering what you'd been up to lately." He looked at him a second. "Copper," he said with a grin. Just then the door opened. Huggy tensed for a second, remembering Hutch's warning, but relaxed as soon as the opening door revealed the tall, blond man standing on the other side of it.
    Hutch spotted Starsky right away. "You're up!" he exclaimed. "Hungry?"
    "Starvin'." Starsky replied with a grin. "Hope you actually brought something good."
    "Brought something good for a man in your condition," he said cheerfully, pulling cans of soup from the bag.
    "My condition is just fine." Starsky retorted, but still eyed the cans hungrily.
    "Yeah, sure it is. You haven't been in front of a mirror since you've been up, have you?" he teased, rifling through kitchen drawers. "Do you even *have* a can opener?"
    "Look better than what you'd see in the mirror." Starsky teased back. "Yeah, in the drawer by the fridge."
    Hutch turned around, found the right drawer and retrieved the can opener. He started to work on the cans. "I'll let you get away with that one due to your delicate condition," Hutch told him.
    "So, what else did you get at the store?" Starsky questioned. It was obvious he was referring to something other than food.
    Hutch looked at him, understanding what he meant, but ignoring the unasked part of the question. "Orange juice," he answered innocently.
    Starsky rolled his eyes, he knew Hutch intently didn't answer his question. "must be some orange juice to relax you this much."
    "It's pretty fabulous stuff. I was keeping it as a surprise."
    "I think I've had enough surprises to last me for a while lately."
    Hutch shrugged, but still didn't say anything.
    "You still think there is someone out there trying to kill me? Or is the surprise gonna be that you invited him over to finish the job?" Starsky joked, without thinking *that* was probably not the best thing to joke about. He hoped Hutch didn't take it the wrong way.
    Hutch looked up sharply. "He won't be coming," he said in a low voice. "She's gone and it's over."
    Starsky gave Hutch an apologetic look. "That's the best news I've heard in days."
    "Yep," Hutch agreed, but joylessly.
    "When's that food gonna be ready, I'm starvin' over here." Starsky said quickly changing the subject.
    Hutch smiled despite himself. "Have some orange juice," he said. "I just got the soup out of the can."
    Starsky stood up and grabbed the orange juice. "Anyone else thirsty?"
    "Actually, I think I'll be going, my man, if it's all the same to you," Huggy said, standing up. "Good to see you again. Don't be a stranger."
    "You too, Hug." Starsky said. "Thanks again."
    Huggy nodded and held up a hand in a wave to Hutch before he strode out the door.
    Hutch watched him go. "Looks like it's just you and me, honey-bunch," he joked.
    "Not much new about that, babe."

*TheEnd*