THE END OF ME AND THEE

By Sparkle731

Starsky and Hutch are at a crossroads in their relationship. Is this the end of me and thee? Major angst ahead for Starsky.

Beta read by ProvencePuss

CHAPTER 1

“Watch where you’re going, moron!” Hutch snapped angrily, glaring at his brunet partner coldly. He braced one hand against the dashboard as Starsky swung his Torino out around the slower moving vehicle in front of him.

“I saw him!” Starsky snapped back, fighting hard to keep his own anger in check. In the past few weeks, petty arguments had erupted into loud fights; off-duty time they used to spend together was now spent alone, once friendly bickering had turned into spiteful remarks and cruel taunts. Neither of them seemed to know the reason for the frustration and the constant irritation that had developed between them recently as the foundation of their friendship seemed to erode more and more every day.

“Where’d you get your license? In a crackerjack box?” Hutch sniped in an irritated voice. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, staring out of the windshield with a closed off expression on his face.

Starsky bit back the retort that sprang to mind. He was sick of Hutch putting him down all the time, deliberately baiting him and trying to provoke a fight. At the next stoplight, he slammed on the brakes a little harder than he needed to, jerking Hutch forward in his seat. “Fucking idiot!” Hutch growled as he shoved open his door, the bottom of the doorframe scraping against the curb. He unfolded his long legs and climbed out of the car. “I’ll catch a cab back to my place. Maybe that way I’ll at least get there in one piece!” He slammed the car door shut and stepped up onto the curb, giving his partner a scornful look of contempt.

Without a word or a backward glance, Starsky hit the accelerator and sped away, the rear tires squealing loudly as he laid a long patch of rubber, leaving Hutch standing alone on the street corner. In the rearview mirror, he saw the big blond muttering and shaking his head at Starsky’s behavior, a scowl etched on his face. He knew that Hutch would consider his actions childish and immature but he didn’t care. He sped reckless down the street, his foot leaning heavily on the gas.

Ten minutes later, Starsky pulled to a jerking halt in front of a local bar called The Pits. He sat there for a minute to compose himself before opening his door and climbing out of the car. As angry as he was at Hutch for his foul temper and his hateful words, Starsky still hated fighting with his partner. His shoulders sagged in defeat as he shoved his car keys in his pocket and made his way towards the bar. Everything he did or said lately seemed to piss Hutch off and the strain of the constant arguing was taking its toll. Starsky had no idea what he had done to make his partner so angry with him. If he knew than he would find a way to make things right again. Hutch had always been moody but never like this.

The interior of the bar was dimly lit, the air heavy with smoke. Although it wasn’t quite five in the afternoon, most of the tables and the barstools were already taken, a typical Friday night at the popular tavern. Spotting an empty stool at the far end of the bar, Starsky eased his way through the crowd and claimed his seat.

The owner and manager of the bar, Huggy Bear, immediately sat a frosty mug of beer down in front of him. Huggy was a tall thin black man with a flamboyant style of dressing and was a long time friend of Starsky. “Where’s your better half?” he asked casually, glancing back towards the entrance as if he expected the big blond to come strolling through the door.

“How the hell should I know?” Starsky grumbled, “I’m not his keeper. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Uh...oh...” Huggy said, eyeing his old friend closely. “You two still at each other’s throats? I figured you’d have kissed and made up by now.”

“Give it a rest, Huggy and get me a special, will ya?” Starsky said, ignoring the bar owner’s comment. His tone was a little harsher than he intended but he was too tired to be polite. “And keep my glass filled.” Although Huggy was a good friend, Starsky was in no mood for any barroom psychology. All he wanted was something to eat and a few beers so he could unwind.

Huggy looked at Starsky for a minute as if he was contemplating saying something more, then he shrugged and walked away to get Starsky’s food. If the brunet wanted to sulk and get drunk, Huggy knew he couldn’t stop him. All he could do was keep an eye on his friend and take away Starsky’s car keys if he got too intoxicated. Starsky remained at the bar, his slouched shoulders and bowed head clearly putting out the signal to stay away.

Huggy kept busy serving drinks and keeping a close eye on his clientele. Most of them were regulars and knew not to get too rowdy unless they wanted escorted out the door but there were always a few newcomers who tended to push it to the limit. From the corner of his eye, Huggy continued to keep a close watch on his friend. After Starsky had consumed six beers within a two hour period, Huggy held out his hand expectantly. “Keys.” He said firmly.

Without a word, Starsky slid his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his car keys, slapping them down into Huggy’s palm. When he was ready to go home, he’d either call a cab or crash in the furnished room upstairs. Either way, he knew that Huggy would continue to watch out for his welfare while he drank himself into oblivion. Since he was normally not a heavy drinker, his usual limit being three beers, he was already feeling the effects of the alcohol. He had a pleasant buzz going and everything was starting to take on a mellow, slightly fuzzy, appearance.

“Hey good looking…” a soft feminine voice drawled in his ear, a familiar voice that he immediately recognized. Starsky turned his head carefully and smiled at the petite fragile looking blonde with the big blue eyes that slid onto the vacant stool beside him. Her street name was Sweet Alice and, even though she was a hooker, she was just as sweet as her name implied. Retaining her deep southern drawl, she had a child like innocence that was good for business. She had a major crush on the blond half of the partnership, although she had made it clear more than once that she was willing to extend her favors to Starsky too if he was ever interested. “You here all by your lonesome, Starsk?” she asked “Where’s handsome Hutch?”

“Not here.” Starsky replied in a slightly slurred voice that tore at the sensitive hooker’s heart. She could hear the deep down hurt that Starsky was trying to keep from showing in his voice at her innocent question. Alice found herself wondering what had happened between the two friends to have Starsky in such a sorry state. She reached out and gently ran her hand up and down his arm, feeling the bunched up muscles beneath the thin material of his long sleeved shirt.

“Is there anything I can do to make it any better, sugar?” she whispered, sincerely wanting to help ease the brunet’s obvious emotional pain.

“Not tonight, darling.” Starsky said with a ghost of his usual smile. He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, folded it neatly, and stuffed it down the front of her low cut blouse. Any other time he might have seriously considered taking her up on her offer, but not tonight. Sex and booze wasn’t what he needed to make the pain go away. He needed to know why Hutch was acting like he didn’t like him very much anymore.

Responding to an urgent message from his bladder, he shoved himself off the bar stool and stumbled towards the back of the bar where the bathrooms were located. He didn’t notice the pair of ice blue eyes that watched him from a booth hidden away in the dark shadows at the back of the bar. Shoving open the door to the men’s room, Starsky went inside. Closing the door behind him, he unzipped his jeans and relieved himself in the urinal, struggling to keep his suddenly heavy eyelids from drifting shut. Tucking everything back in place, he pulled up his zipper and snapped his jeans.

Turning on his heel, he staggered into the vacant stall and fell to his knees just as his rebellious stomach decided to get rid of most of the alcohol he’d spent the evening drinking, He gagged, retching violently, as the foul tasting bile and liquid spilled from his mouth into the heavily stained bowl. Finally, he slumped back against the side of the stall, breathing heavily, his face covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He closed his eyes as the room tilted crazily around him and he sank to a sitting position on the bathroom floor. Vaguely, he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, the closing.

“Starsky?” Huggy’s voice called quietly “Hey, Starsky! Are you in here?” Spying the familiar blue and white Adidas running shoes sticking out from underneath the door to the stall, Huggy wriggled his nose at the foul odor of vomit that lingered in the air. Pushing open the stall door, he sighed heavily at the sight of his friend sitting on the floor, his face pinched and drawn. “Oh, man…come on, pal…let’s get you out of here.”

Reaching over Starsky’s body for the handle on the commode, Huggy flushed the toilet and then reached down to slip his hands under Starsky’s armpits, grunting as he pulled the heavier man to his feet. Although Huggy was thin and wiry, he was stronger than he looked and he had years of experience taking care of his friends when they had too much to drink. Wrapping one arm tightly around Starsky’s waist and supporting most of his weight, Huggy slung Starsky’s left arm around his neck and grabbed his wrist tightly as he guided his old friend from the bathroom.

He led the way to the stairway at the end of the short hallway and slowly began trudging up the steps, half carrying, half dragging, a semi-conscious Starsky along with him. “Man, you really need to lay off the burritos.” Huggy said as he opened the door to the tiny furnished room he kept above the bar for times like this. He let Starsky slide down onto the double bed sitting in the middle of the room. Pulling off the brunet’s sneakers, he tossed them to the floor and covered his friend’s body with a light blanket. Turning off the overhead light, he left Starsky in a drunken slumber, snoring softly.

Going back downstairs to the bar, he grabbed the phone behind the counter and punched in a familiar number. After six rings, Hutch’s answering machine picked up. After listening to the recorded message, Huggy said, “Hey, Blondie…I don’t know what’s up with you and Curly…but he’s been here all night drowning his sorrows and right now he’s upstairs sleeping it off. Why don’t you two turkeys get your act together, huh? Try talking to each other for a chance instead of trying to rip each other’s heart out….cause I’m telling you, man…I don’t think Starsky can take much more of this crap.”

Huggy hung up the phone none too gently. He doubted if his words would have much effect on a certain stubborn blond. Huggy often wondered how Starsky and Hutch had managed to stay friends this long. There were times when Hutch was downright cruel and obnoxious to his brunet partner, hurting Starsky’s feelings without realizing it or even seeming to care. Yet, Starsky was always ready to forgive and forget, loyal to a fault when it came to his friends, especially one Kenneth Hutchinson.

CHAPTER 2

Starsky wasn’t surprised to see Hutch’s battered LTD already parked in the lot behind headquarters when he arrived the next morning. After their falling out yesterday after work and his over indulgence at the Pits, he wasn’t surprised that Hutch had driven himself to work. Starsky pulled the Torino into a vacant spot and adjusted his sunglasses on his nose as he opened the door and stepped out to the pavement. The pounding in his head had finally settled down to a mild roar and his stomach had stopped trying to turn summersaults. It was going to be a long day and it would be even longer if he had to put up with Hutch badgering him all day. He was at the end of his rope and honestly didn’t know just how much more of his partner’s condescending attitude he could tolerate without exploding.

He trudged across the parking lot to the rear entrance to the building and climbed the back stairs to the third floor where the detective squad room was located. Hutch was sitting at their shared desk, sorting through a stack of files lying in front of him. He shot Starsky a smoldering glance as the brunet walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup of what the squad laughingly referred to as coffee. Adding four teaspoons of sugar to help hide the taste, he slumped down in his chair and lowered his head to avoid the disgust he saw mirrored in Hutch’s eyes.

“You look like shit.” Hutch said with a sneer, noting the sunglasses that the brunet still wore even though he was inside the building, a dead giveaway that he was suffering from the after-effects of a major hangover.

Starsky ignored the sarcasm in his partner’s voice and took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. His stomach churned uneasily and he hastily sat the cup aside.

“Starsky! Hutchinson!” Captain Dobey bellowed from the open doorway to his office “That suspect you’ve been looking for in those liquor store holdups is pinned down at the corner of Belmont and Pine! He’s got hostages! Get your asses over there right now!”

Without a word, the two detectives stood up and rushed out of the squad room. Starsky hurried to keep up with his partner’s longer legs. Without looking back, Hutch growled, “We’re taking my car instead of that parade float of yours.”

Starsky bit back a sharp remark and followed his partner out the back door to the parking lot. He jerked open the door on the passengers side, cursing underneath his breath when the door stuck as usual. He barely had time to settle in the seat and pull the door shut before Hutch peeled out of the lot and headed for their destination.

“Hey!” he yelped, as he threw his hand against the dash to keep from being thrown forward into the windshield by the momentum of the car. “Warn me the next time you decide to drove like Mario Andretti!”

“Like you warn me before you decide to hotdog it?” Hutch snapped, throwing an icy glare at his partner. “Why don’t you stop whining?”

“Fine. I will.” Starsky said, glaring back. He clamped his lips together tightly and turned his head to stare out of his window, ignoring Hutch completely.

“Oh great…now you’re gonna pout.” Hutch said coldly, not noticing the hurt look that settled in his partner’s eyes at the scornful remark.

The rest of the trip was made in silence, a heavy silence that still spoke volumes. Two black and white cruisers were already at the scene, the uniformed officers crouched down behind the safety of their vehicles, their guns trained on the front entrance to the small carryout where the suspect was holed up with his hostages. Hutch skidded to a halt beside the nearest car and the two detectives scrambled out of the battered LTD, seeking their own cover on the drivers side of the vehicle. They drew their weapons, ducking low as two shots rang out from inside the store.

“What have we got?” Hutch yelled at the nearest uniformed officer.

“He’s inside with at least one hostage, the store clerk. They managed to push a silent alarm. He grabbed them and started shooting at us when he saw us pull up.”

“How many rounds has he fired so far?” Starsky asked

“Four…maybe five. I’m not sure.” The officer answered, ducking down as another shot rang out, ricocheting off the front of his car.

“He should be almost out of ammo.” Starsky stated, glancing at Hutch for confirmation.

“Why don’t you just run up there and find out?” Hutch said sarcastically.

“Cover me.” Starsky said, darting out from behind the car before Hutch could stop him. Stunned, Hutch watched his partner recklessly running in a zig zag pattern towards the store front. The uniformed officers started firing, providing cover, but Hutch hesitated for a few moments. Unfortunately, it was long enough for the suspect to get off a couple of shots of his own and Hutch watched as his partner went down. Starsky fell to the pavement between the cars and the store, face down, and didn’t move. With a sudden growl of pure rage, Hutch bounced to his feet, his magnum roaring as he fired several shots at the store front.

‘DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT!” a woman’s voice screamed from inside the store “HE’S DEAD! HE’S DEAD!”

Cautiously, Hutch and the other uniformed men moved forward, keeping their guns ready in case the woman was lying. Hutch let the uniformed officers advance to the store while he knelt beside his fallen partner. Starsky’s eyes were closed and the back of his jacket was soaked with blood, with more blood pooling on the pavement beneath him. With a trembling hand, Hutch reached out and pressed his fingers against the side of Starsky’s throat searching for a pulse. He breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when he found one. It was weak and slow, but it was there.

Bouncing back to his feet, Hutch ran back to his car and reached inside to grab the mike from beneath the dash. Pressing the transmit button, he said “Officer down! Send an ambulance to the corner of Belmont and Pine!” Without waiting for a reply, he tossed the mike to the seat and jerked open the car door. Sliding beneath the wheel, he turned on the ignition and sped away from the scene without waiting around to see how badly Starsky was hurt. Although Hutch knew that he could be written up or even suspended for leaving the scene, he didn’t care.

The ambulance was already there and the paramedics were frantically working on Starsky when Captain Dobey arrived at the scene. Hurrying as fast as his bulk would allow, he approached his injured officer and demanded, “How is he?”

One of the paramedics glanced up at the big black man and said, “Not good. We need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. He was hit in the chest and the bullet exited through his back. He’s lost a lot of blood but he should make it.”

“Where’s his partner?” Dobey asked in a puzzled voice, looking around for the big blond. Normally, Hutch would be at his partner’s side giving the paramedics grief as he watched everything they did.

“He took off, Cap.” One of the uniformed officers told him, stepping up to his superior officer. “He called for an ambulance while we made sure the suspect was down and secured the scene and then he just took off.”

‘HE WHAT!” Dobey bellowed in an outraged voice. The uniformed officer took an involuntary step backwards at the anger reflected in the Captain’s deep brown eyes. Dobey took a deep breath to compose himself and then turned his attention back to the other officer. “What the hell happened here?” he demanded in a carefully controlled voice.

“When we arrived, the suspect was already inside the store. He grabbed the clerk, using her as a hostage, and started shooting at us.” The younger man said, giving his statement in a calm, professional voice. “When Detective Hutchinson and Detective Starsky arrived, I briefed them on the situation. Detective Starsky asked how many rounds the suspect had fired and I told him five maybe more.” He paused to catch his breath and then continued, “Detective Starsky yelled for us to cover him and he started to run towards the front of the store. We put down some cover fire but the suspect got off a couple of shots and one of the rounds hit Detective Starsky.”

“What was Detective Hutchinson doing while all this was going on?”

The other man looked uncomfortable as he answered, “He…uh…seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds…long enough for Detective Starsky to get hit. But once he saw Detective Starsky go down, he stood up and started shooting that cannon of his at the store front. Then the woman started screaming at us to stop shooting that the suspect was dead.”

“Then what?”

“We approached the scene with caution and Detective Hutchinson stopped to check on his partner while we secured the scene and made sure the hostage was okay. When I came out of the store, I saw Detective Hutchinson driving away and I stayed with Detective Starsky until the ambulance arrived.”

“I want a full report on my desk as soon as you get back to the station.” Dobey ordered, turning his attention back to the paramedics who had stabilized Starsky’s condition and were loading him on a stretcher to be put into the ambulance. “I’ll be at the hospital with Detective Starsky.”

Dobey turned and headed back to his car to follow the ambulance to the hospital. He was angry at Hutch for leaving the scene, especially since his partner was injured. It was totally unprofessional behavior and completely out of character for Hutch. Dobey knew that his best team of detectives had been having some problems lately but he would never had thought that Hutch would desert his partner when he was hurt. He knew there was no way he could keep Internal Affairs from getting involved in the situation and Hutch would be lucky if he wasn’t brought up on departmental charges for leaving the scene the way he had done. But Captain Dobey was more worried because Hutch had left Starsky when he was wounded. That was totally incomprehensible. The two partners weren’t just professional colleagues, they were also best friends. When one of them was hurt, the other one became an overly protective mother hen. Under normal circumstances, Hutch would never have left his injured partner’s side. But, recent circumstances between the two detectives were anything but normal.

CHAPTER 3

Captain Dobey sat in the chair beside Starsky’s bed and watched the burnet in his drugged induced slumber. It had been touch and go for awhile but the doctors had managed to stop the bleeding and repair the damage to his body, now it would just take time for him to rest and heal. Starsky had been out of the recovery room for over four hours, sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia as he sporadically tossed his head from side to side on the pillow and mumbled incoherently beneath his breath.

Dobey knew that he was a poor substitution for the blond half of the duo but he was determined to remain at Starsky’s side until the burnet awoke. He focused his attention on the olive toned face as Starsky’s eyelids fluttered and a sliver of blue showed through.

“Hu’sh…” Starsky mumbled in a barely audible voice as his sapphire eyes opened and swept around the room, desperately searching for his partner’s familiar face. He choked back a moan of pain at the fire that flared in his chest with the slightest movement of his body.

“Dave?” the Captain said quietly, reaching out to rub his hand gently up and down Starsky’s right arm. “It’s me, Captain Dobey.”

“Hu’sh…” Starsky repeated in a cracked voice, his tongue sneaking out to lick at his dry lips.

“Hutch isn’t here right now.” Dobey said evasively. “Do you need anything? Are you in pain? I can get the nurse…”

“Water…”

“How about some ice chips?” the Captain said, picking op the glass of ice chips from the nightstand and spooning some out of the cup. He held the plastic spoon against Starsky’s lips, smiling when Starsky opened his mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed. The brunet closed his eyes in relieved bliss as the ice melted in his mouth, soothing his dry parched throat and mouth. He opened his lips for more. “Why don’t you try and get some rest?” Dobey suggested awkwardly, not sure what he could do to ease the brunet’s pain. He needed Hutch for that. “I’m sure Hutch will be here soon….”

“No…” Starsky whispered softly, his eyes growing heavy and starting to drift shut. “Don’t know what I did…but Hutch don’t like me no more…that’s why he’s not here.” Starsky’s words cut at the burly black man’s heart. His voice sounded so forlorn and lost. His eyes opened and he struggled to focus his gaze on his Captain’s face, “Tell Hutch I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make him mad…” With those words, his eyes closed and he fell back into a deep medicated slumber.

“I’ll tell him,” Dobey said, his mouth tightening into a thin hard line, silently vowing to add a few choice words of his own to that message when he finally found Kenneth Hutchinson. Reluctantly, Dobey turned and left the room, leaving Starsky to rest.

He returned to his office but there was still no word on the missing detective. He tried to concentrate on the pile of reports on his desk but his thoughts kept drifting to his favorite team of detectives and the recent problems between them. There had to be a way to find out what the problem was make things right again. Dobey spent most of the day in his office taking care of routine tasks. After work, he went by the hospital again to check on Starsky.

The brunet was awake and more alert than he had been earlier. From the pinched lines around the corners of his mouth, he was obviously in a great deal of pain. Dobey sat down the potted plant he had brought with him and smiled at his detective. “How are you feeling, son?” Dobey asked.

“Been better…been worse…” Starsky said tightly. He looked at his superior officer solemnly. “Where’s Hutch?” he demanded almost desperately. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Dave…settle down.” Dobey ordered half-heartedly. His eyes softened and his voice turned gentle and quiet. It was time to tell Starsky the truth. “I don’t know where Hutch is. Nobody’s seen him since you were shot.”

“What?” Starsky exclaimed, his eyes widening in alarm. He winced as he sat up in the bed and reached to toss aside the sheet covering his lower body. “I’ve gotta find him! I gotta get it through that thick blond head that it’s not his fault I got shot. It’s mine…I got careless.”

“You stay in that bed!” Dobey said firmly, reaching out to stop the stubborn brunet before he could climb out of the bed. “You move around too much and you’re gonna rip open those stitches!” Starsky glared at him defiantly but obeyed his order to stay in bed. He collapsed against the pillows, breathing heavily and riding out the pain that crushed his chest. “Hutch is a grown man!” Dobey growled “He can take care of himself! I’m sure he’s just fine wherever he is!”

“It’s my fault…he left because of me.” Starsky mumbled dejectedly.

“Stop beating yourself up! Regardless of what you may think, you are not responsible for whatever that jack ass partner of yours does!” Dobey consciously gentled his voice. “Dave…son…don’t do this to yourself. Whatever is going on between you and Hutch isn’t something that the two of you can’t fix if you try.”

“I’ve tried!” Starsky said a bit sharply. “I don’t know what’s wrong! Hutch won’t talk to me! All we do anymore is fight!”

“Then maybe some time apart is just what you both need right now.” Dobey said, even though he doubted his own words. “I’m sure Hutch will be here as soon as he has a couple of days to think about it.”

“No, he won’t…” Starsky said in a strangely resigned voice, turning his head towards the opposite wall and closing his eyes but not before Dobey saw a single tear slide out from beneath one closed lid and fall down his cheek. “It’s over…”

Dobey sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. He knew there was no use talking to Starsky any further, the brunet was hurting and not just physically. In past whenever he was hurt, Hutch was right there beside him, soothing him and comforting him, making sure he followed the doctors orders during his recovery. Of course, Starsky did the same thing when their positions were reversed. It was just part of the unique bond between them, a bond that seemed to be unraveling. Usually Hutch was the one who heaped all the guilt on himself and took the blame for everything that went wrong between the two friends. While Starsky had a more volatile temper, he was usually the first one to apologize and try to make things right again when they were feuding. Over the years, Dobey had sat back and watched as Hutch often taunted Starsky and put him down, often flaunting his own upbringing and education as being superior. Hutch could be an arrogant son-of-a-bitch and more than a little callous. But somehow, Starsky and Hutch had always balanced each other out and worked together as a team no matter what their personal differences may have been. But, now after nine years as partners and over thirteen years as best friends, it all seemed to be coming to an end.

Starsky feigned sleep until he heard Dobey leave the room. The pain in his heart hurt as much as the physical pain of his injuries. Hutch had always been the one who analyzed everything, while Starsky had always acted more on instinct and impulse. But, in the past few weeks since the discord came between them, Starsky had done his best to try and figure out why things seemed to be falling to pieces between him and Hutch. So far, he hadn’t come up with any answers. If he knew how to fix things, he would but he didn’t even know where to start. Finally, after a hefty dose of pain meds, he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

The next day, Starsky had several visitors but still no sign of Hutch. He tried calling the blond’s apartment but Hutch didn’t answer the phone. Starsky left a message on the answering machine but he held out little hope that Hutch would return his call. After several more calls throughout the day with the same result, Starsky came to a decision. He had to make sure that Hutch was okay. Even if Hutch didn’t want to see him and didn’t care anymore about their friendship or their partnership, Starsky still cared about the big blond’s welfare.

He waited until the afternoon shift change before making his move. Gritting his teeth against the pain that tied his chest into knots, he eased himself out of bed, leaning heavily against the wall for a few minutes until the room stopped spinning. Taking a deep determined breath, he carefully eased his way across the room to the closet to look for his missing clothes. He found his jeans, his windbreaker and his Adidas but no shirt. He vaguely remembered someone cutting it off him in the emergency room when he was brought into the hospital. He knew that Captain Dobey had taken his gun, his badge and his wallet for safekeeping. He’d worry about getting them back later.

Pulling on his skintight jeans was an exercise in persistence as he struggled to bend his pain racked body enough to wiggle into them. By the time he finished dressing he was sweating heavily and panting from the exertion. He paused to catch his breath as he slipped to the doorway and peered into the hallway. Even though he was shirtless with a heavily bandaged chest, only partially concealed by his windbreaker, it was relatively easy to slip out of his room unnoticed.

He took the elevator down to the main floor and walked out the front door. He grinned when he saw Huggy Bear parked at the curb waiting on him as promised. He tried not to think about the fact that under any other circumstances, it would be Hutch picking him up from the hospital and taking him home, not Huggy. As he slipped into the front seat beside the gangly black man, Huggy arched an eyebrow at him and quipped, “Making a new fashion statement, Starsk?”

“Just drive, Hug.” Starsky growled. He leaned his head back against the seat wearily and closed his eyes.

“Hey, I know I ain’t Blondie,” Huggy complained goodnaturedly, “But you could still be nice to me since I came all the way down here to carry your sorry ass home.”

“Sorry…” Starsky said apologetically “Thanks for picking me up. Have you heard anything about Hutch?”

“Nada.” Huggy said, concentrating on his driving. “He ain’t at his apartment and nobody seems to have seen him for the last couple of days.” He cast a worried glance at his old friend. He didn’t like the pinched look around Starsky’s eyes or the heavy sheen of sweat on his face. “Hey, Starsky…” he said, “The doctor did release you…right?”

“I released myself.” Starsky muttered, “Just get me home. Okay?”

“Just don’t keel over on me, Curly or I’ll tote your skinny ass right back to the hospital where you belong!”

An uneasy silence fell between the two friends as Huggy continued to Starsky’s apartment. Huggy knew that Starsky would sacrifice his own health when it came to his partner’s welfare, always putting Hutch’s needs above his own.

CHAPTER 4

By the time Starsky got back to his apartment, he was ready to collapse, barely able to stand upright against the searing pain in his chest. He refused Huggy’s offer of assistance, not wanting the lanky black man to realize just how weak he still was. Once inside the sanctuary of his domain, he slumped down on the sofa and let his head fall back against the cushions. He took several deep steadying breathes, exhaling slowly through his mouth, as he rode out the pain in his chest.

Starsky’s mind slipped into cop mode as he started to list places where Hutch might be. He could be at his apartment and just refusing to answer the phone but that seemed highly unlikely. His traveling to Duluth and his family was just as unlikely. Which meant he had found a place to hole up, more than likely a motel room somewhere in the city or in one of the neighboring suburbs. As soon as Starsky got some rest and a healthy dose of pain medication, he would start his search for his wayward partner. He still had some pain meds left over from the last time he was shot that would have to do for now. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, his eyes drifted shut and he let himself sleep.

The room was filled with darkening shadows when he opened his eyes. With a sharp cry of pain, he forced himself off the sofa and shuffled into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he had finished, he opened the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it until he found the pills he was looking for. Opening the lid, he shook three pills out into the palm of his hand and dry swallowed them, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

Moving slowly, his muscles protesting every movement, he made his way into the kitchen. He put some coffee on to brew and opened the refrigerator to find something to eat, settling for a couple of slices of left over pizza that still looked edible. He’d have to wait until morning to begin his search for Hutch. His injured body was already protesting too much activity for one day. He sighed heavily as he stood at the kitchen counter and ate, washing it down with a cup of hot, strong coffee.

Over the years that they had been friends, Starsky’s life had became so intertwined with Hutch’s that sometimes he had trouble determining any separation. He was so accustomed to spending the majority of his time, both on duty and off duty, with the big blond that the times he spent alone were few and far between. In the past few weeks, he had never felt more alone in his life or more lonely. What had gone wrong between them? Starsky wished he knew. Shaking his head ruefully to chase away his negative feelings, he rinsed his cup and put it in the sink.

Shuffling his way back to his bedroom, he threw himself down across the bed without bothering to undress and shifted around until he found a comfortable position. He could feel the lethargy in his muscles as the medication seeped into his system, dulling the pain in his chest to a more manageable level. In spite of the tension between them, Starsky still valued his friendship with Hutch and would do whatever he had to do to make things right between them again.

He awoke the next morning, stiff and sore, moving cautiously like a ninety-year- old man as he went about his usual morning routine. By the time he shaved and got dressed, he felt marginally better, his movements more fluid and natural. After a light breakfast, he grabbed his car keys, leaving his apartment to hit the streets and look for his missing partner.

“Central to Zebra three. Come in Zebra three.” The dispatcher’s voice said over the radio. Briefly, Starsky considered ignoring the call but then his better judgment overruled his impulses. It could be news about Hutch. Grabbing the mike, he thumbed the transmit button.

“This is Zebra three. Go ahead Central.”

“Stand by, Zebra three for patch through from Captain Dobey.”

A few moments later, Captain Dobey’s voice bellowed over the air, “Starsky! Where the devil are you?”

“Looking for Hutch. What’s it to ya?”

“What’s the idea of walking out of the hospital like that?” Dobey demanded gruffly. “You’re in no condition to be out there hunting for your partner!”

“Let me decide that, Cap.” Starsky said stubbornly. “I’m gonna find Hutch one way or the other and nobody is gonna tell me I can’t!” He tossed the microphone on the seat and reached down to switch off the radio so he wouldn’t have any further interruptions. He knew that Captain Dobey would cut him some slack, especially where Hutch was concerned. He knew how close the two detectives were and that Starsky was going to do what he had to do regardless of the consequences. The stubborn tenacity that made Starsky such a good undercover cop also made him an indomitable force when it came to protecting and looking out for his partner. Even a direct order from his commanding officer wouldn’t be able to sway him from his chosen course.

Their years of close friendship had given Starsky the edge. He knew how Hutch thought and the most likely places to start looking for him. He would avoid the more disreputable establishments in the city, seeking shelter in one of the more middle class motels and, unless he was deliberating trying to avoid being found, he would have checked in under his own name. Unfortunately, there were a large number of motels and hotels in the city that fit that description, as well as in the neighboring suburbs. By late afternoon, Starsky was no closer than he had been when he started looking. He was frustrated and starting to hurt again, his body screaming for rest. Reluctantly, he decided to call it day and stop by The Pits for a bite to eat before he went home.

Huggy was busy working behind the bar when Starsky arrived. The brunet found a vacant booth near the back of the room and sat down, relaxing for the first time all day. Diane, Huggy’s head waitress, sauntered over to his booth and smiled at him warmly. “Hey darling.” She drawled, “What can I get for ya?”

“Give me a beer and a Huggy burger with everything. Side order of fries.” Starsky told her with a crooked smile. He cocked his head to one side, watching her hips sway from side to side as she walked away to turn his order into the cook in the kitchen. With his attention distracted by the pretty barmaid, he didn’t notice Huggy approaching his table until he slid into the booth across from him.

“You been looking for Blondie?” Huggy asked, eyeing his friend closely. Although Starsky’s face was still drawn and pale, he looked better than he had the last time the lanky black man had seen him.

“Yeah…no luck.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Blondie may not want to be found?”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” Starsky admitted with a rueful smile. “I figure he’s holed up someplace feeling sorry for himself and laying on a guilt trip because I got shot.”

“Yeah, Hutchie’s good at doing that. Wherever he’s holed up at, he’s covered his tracks pretty good. Nobody on the streets seems to know where he is.”

“I’ll find him.” Starsky said in a confident tone. “Hutch can’t hide from me forever.”

“I hope you do and when you do, I hope you two turkeys fix whatever’s wrong between you two.”

“So do I, Hug…so do I.”

Huggy nodded and shuffled to his feet, heading back to his duties as bartender. After eating his meal and drinking a couple of beers, Starsky left and returned to his apartment. As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it securely, he noticed that the yellow light was flashing on his answering machine. Someone had called and left a message. He pressed the button to play back his messages. One was from Captain Dobey ordering him to report to him immediately if he found any trace of Hutch. One was from a stewardess he dated whenever she was in town informing him that she had a layover that weekend and would call him. The last message made the hair on the back of Starsky’s neck stand on end. It was from Hutch. The familiar tones of his partner’s voice filled the air.

“I know you’re looking for me, Starsk but I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m glad you’re okay and all…but back off and leave me the fuck alone!” There was a sharp click on the tape as Hutch slammed down the receiver, disconnecting the call. Starsky scowled as he replayed the message. Hutch had his own sources on the streets, sources who must have alerted him that Starsky was hunting for him. Regardless of Hutch’s warning to back off, Starsky had no intentions of abandoning his search for his partner and friend.

CHAPTER 5

The insistent ringing seeped through the fog in Starsky’s mind. He fumbled for his alarm clock, swatting at it to shut off the annoying ring but the sound persisted. Finally, his sleep-dulled mind registered the fact that the sound he heard was the telephone and not his alarm. He fumbled for the receiver and pulled it to his ear, muttering sullenly, “This better be important.”

“Starsky, it’s Dobey.” The Captain growled in his ear. “I need you to get down here right away.”

“What’s up? Is it, Hutch?” Starsky demanded, immediately alert and wide awake.

“Not over the phone. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

The connection was cut off before Starsky had time to reply. Tossing aside the light sheet covering him, Starsky eased out of bed and began to dress; pulling on the same clothing he had worn the day before. Within half an hour, he was pulling up in front of Police headquarters and climbing out of his car. He hurried into the building and up the three flights of stairs to the Detective squad room. He burst into Dobey’s office without bothering to knock.

“Starsky!” Dobey bellowed “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking before you bust into my office?”

“Sorry, Cap. What’s going on? Have you heard something about Hutch?”

“Sit down, son.” Dobey said, his voice turning soft and gentle.

“I think I’d rather stand.” Starsky said with a hint of defiance in his voice. He had a feeling that whatever the Captain was about to tell him, he wasn’t going to like it.

“I found Hutch’s gun, badge and a letter of resignation on my desk when I came in this morning.” Dobey told him somberly. “He must have brought it in sometime last night.”

“Was there anything else? Any explanation? Anything?” Starsky asked desperately, his eyes beseeching his Captain for more information about this newest development.

“Just this.” Dobey, holding out a plain white envelope with Starsky’s name written clearly across the front in Hutch’s familiar handwriting. Starsky’s trembling fingers took the envelope and stared at it, afraid to open it and read the contents.

“Thanks, Cap…” Starsky said flatly. He shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket and turned, leaving the office without another word or a backward glance. He left the building and drove to a nearby park where he found a deserted bench off the beaten path. He sat down and pulled the envelope from his pocket, staring at it for several long minutes before finally tearing it open and taking out the single folded sheet of paper it contained. With a deep resigned sigh, he began to read,

“Starsky…I’m sure you realize by now that I’ve turned in my gun and badge and quit the force. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be a cop. I’m tired of all the bullshit out there on the streets, I’m tired of waiting for one of us to get shot and not make it, I’m tired of seeing the scum we arrest back out on the streets before we even get the paperwork done. I know I’ve been acting like a real prick lately. I guess maybe I’m tired of you too, buddy. Maybe I’ve just gotten older and wiser. Maybe I’m tired of being the adult in this partnership most of the time. Don’t try to find me because I don’t want to see you. We need to put an end to this farce once and for all…Hutch.”

Starsky blinked back the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes and tried desperately to swallow past the lump that rose in his throat. The words hurt and hurt badly. He couldn’t deny that but something still didn’t seem quite right. Hutch could be arrogant. He could be callous. He could be moody. He could be pompous and inconsiderate. But, he was seldom deliberately cruel. The question still remained unanswered as to why Hutch had suddenly turned his back on his best friend and partner. Why was he suddenly acting so cold and heartless? In spite of Hutch’s words, Starsky vowed to find out just what was going on. He refolded the letter carefully and put it back into the envelope, slipping it into his jacket for safekeeping.

Starsky sat there for a long time, staring at the horizon and planning his next move. He knew that he had to proceed with caution. He could no longer anticipate Hutch’s reactions the way he normally would have. Hutch wasn’t acting anything like himself lately. Finally, Starsky stood up and slowly walked back to his car to go home.

He spent a restless evening, pacing his apartment, lost in his own thoughts. Memories of his years together with Hutch, dating back to when they first met at the Police Academy, kept drifting through his mind. They shared so much history together, good times and bad times. Starsky had always considered them to be closer than brothers until now. He felt as if he were missing a vital part of himself.

Unable to sleep, he decided to drive to Hutch’s apartment. Maybe he could find some clues there to explain Hutch’s odd behavior lately. It was close to midnight when he used his key to let himself into his partner’s apartment. The silence hung heavily in the air giving the apartment an abandoned, empty feeling. Starsky sighed, he had been hoping that maybe his luck would change and he would find Hutch safely tucked away in his apartment.

He decided to start his search in the living room. Knowing the interior of Hutch’s apartment as well as he knew his own, Starsky knew where the big blond kept his important papers and receipts, along with his checkbook and unpaid bills. He wasn’t surprised to find Hutch’s checkbook, bank book, and credit cards missing, as well as the emergency cash he kept on hand. His most recent bills were still unpaid. They hadn’t even been opened. In the desk sitting in the corner, he found a recent letter from his sister, Karen, the only member of his immediate family that Hutch kept in touch with. It was filled with chatty news from Minnesota but nothing that would explain Hutch’s recent behavior.

In the bedroom, he noted that Hutch’s favorite shirts were missing from his closet, along with his shaving kit from the adjoining bathroom. The bed was neatly made, a rarity for his normally sloppy partner. Starsky sat down on the edge of the bed. As he did he noticed a picture lying face down on the nightstand beside the bed. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the enlarged photograph. It was a picture that had been taken of Starsky and Hutch at the yearly department Barbeque two years ago. They were both laughing, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, as they looked into the camera. Starsky had an identical copy hanging on the wall in his living room. The glass covering the picture was broken, a jagged line bisecting their images in the photograph. It felt almost like an omen, representing the current fractured nature of their friendship. Starsky set the picture upright on the nightstand and leaned back against the pillows propped against the headboard. If he closed his eyes, he could almost sense Hutch’s presence in the apartment. Turning his head, he could still smell the faint aroma of Hutch’s aftershave clinging to the pillowcases. Feeling closer to his partner here than he did anywhere else, Starsky closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows causing Starsky to squint his eyes against the glare. He stifled a groan as he raised himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, his hand automatically reaching out to rub his aching chest. His injuries were healing but slowly. He was supposed to be resting and taking it easy but that was impossible to do when he was so worried about Hutch.

CHAPTER 6

“What do you mean you wanna take some time off?” Captain Dobey growled gruffly. “You’re off for another week on medical leave. Isn’t that long enough to do whatever it is you need to do?”

“No.” Starsky said, shaking his head stubbornly. “I have to find Hutch no matter how long it takes. I have to talk to him at least once more time.” He looked at his commanding officer, pleading with his eyes for the big black man to understand. “I have to hear him tell me with my own ears that he doesn’t want to see me anymore…that he doesn’t want to be a cop.”

“And then what?” Dobey asked, his voice softening.

“And then I’ll decide if I wanna be a cop any longer.” Starsky said firmly.

Dobey looked at the disenchanted man standing before him and made his decision. He’d always known that if he lost either one of his two best detectives then he stood the risk of losing them both. He just never expected to lose either one of them like this. The two detectives had been through more than their share of traumas in their career, they pushed their luck too many times. Maybe this falling out was just a natural outcome to a partnership that had outlived its time. God knows they had been partners years longer than most men in the department had been. Finally, Dobey nodded his head slowly. “I’ll put through the necessary paperwork. As of next week when your medical leave ends, you’re on indefinite unpaid leave.”

“Thanks, Cap.” Starsky said, turning to leave the office, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. He was the image of a man who was trying desperately to keep in control when his world had suddenly been turned upside down. Starsky left the building and drove back to his own apartment to plan his strategy for finding his partner. It wasn’t going to be easy since Hutch didn’t seem to want to be found.

He had just made himself a sandwich when the phone rang. Grabbing the receiver, he said, “Yeah, talk to me.”

“Dave?” a soft feminine voice said in his ear, “It’s Karen. Karen Hutchinson. Is Kenny there with you?”
“Uh…no. He isn’t.” Starsky said, trying to cover his surprise at this unexpected phone call. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t really know. I hope not. Kenny called me yesterday and he sounded so strange. He wasn’t making a whole lot of sense and after I thought about it, I started getting worried. I just wanted to call and check on him.”

“What do you mean he sounded strange? Strange how?”

“Just not quite himself. Depressed almost. But, when I asked him if anything was wrong, he kept telling me no. Then just before he hung up, he told me not to worry if I didn’t hear from him for awhile.”

“Did he say why you might not hear from him for a while?”

“No…not really.” Karen said, her worry showing clearly in her voice.“Karen, think hard.” Starsky said, gently probing. “Do you know any place that Hutch might go if he wanted to be by himself for awhile? Someplace that nobody would think of to look for him?”

“Geeze…I don’t know….maybe our grandfather’s farm. We used always spend the summer there when we were kids and Kenny always hated going back home. Grandfather left the farm to Kenny when he died and I know he’s been paying somebody to take care of it for him but I don’t think he’s been back there in years.”

“Where is the farm?”

“About seventy-five miles from Duluth…it’s pretty isolated and hard to get to.”

“Is there a phone?”

“Not anymore…not since Grandfather died.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” Starsky asked, playing a hunch that this could be the lead he needed to find his missing partner.

“I can send you directions, I guess. It’s kind of complicated to find if you don’t know the area.” Karen promised.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Starsky said in a grateful voice.

“David, is Kenny really okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Karen. I’ll have him give you a call as soon as I talk to him.” Starsky hung up without saying anything more. He didn’t want to worry her more than she already was. He sighed in discouragement. Even if Karen sent out the directions right away, it would still take a few days for them to reach him. With the first solid lead on his vanishing friend in the past week, Starsky was anxious to follow up on it. Patience had never been one of his virtues and neither was waiting. But, he had no choice but to wait for the directions that Karen had promised to send.

He rubbed his chest absentmindedly. It was still tender and hurt if he moved around too much. He planned to drive to Minnesota to try to find Hutch and convince him to return to Bay City with him. He knew he would have to take more rest breaks than usual along the way to relieve the stress a cross-country drive. Even under the best of circumstances, such a long drive was exhausting and full of potentially unexpected hazards.

To keep his mind occupied, Starsky wandered into his bedroom and began sorting through his clothes, deciding what to take with him. He knew that it would be cold in Minnesota this time of year so he would need to make sure and take all the warm clothes he owned, along with his ski parka. He’d have to draw enough money out of the bank to take with him and make sure he had all of his credit cards. He would also have to take the Torino by Merle’s garage and make sure it was in top condition for such a long trip. He made a mental note to ask Huggy to keep an eye on his apartment while he was gone and to notify his landlord that he would be out of town for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. His bills had already been paid for the month so that was one less thing to worry about until the first of next month

True to her word, four days later Starsky received the directions to the Hutchinson farm in the mail. Glancing over them briefly, he realized that Karen had been honest about the farm being isolated and difficult to find if you weren’t familiar with the area. Starsky hoped that he wasn’t going on a wild goose chase but his instincts were telling him that this was where he would find Hutch. He finished packing and loaded his luggage into the trunk of the Torino. He filled up the gas tank on his way out of town and then hit the freeway. It was a warm California day with a mild breeze blowing through the open window, a perfect day for a drive. Starsky adjusted his sunglasses as he concentrated on his driving. It felt good to finally be taking some action, to be doing something positive.

He tried not to think about what would happen if Hutch was at the farm but refused to see him or talk to him. If Hutch rejected him again, Starsky would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. But he couldn’t go on with his own life, make any decisions about his future, without getting the answers he needed to his questions. What had happened to turn Hutch into a stranger that Starsky didn’t even know? What had made Hutch turn his back on his career, their partnership and their friendship? Was it really over between them? Was their friendship finally at an end? And, if it was, had Starsky done something he wasn’t aware of that make Hutch mad enough not to want to be his friend anymore?

CHAPTER 7

By that evening, Starsky had left California and was almost to the Arizona and Colorado border when he pulled over for the night. It was still fairly warm outside but he knew that the further north he went, the colder it would get. The motel he checked into for the night was clean with only the minimal furnishings, the prices of the rooms geared to the more frugal travelers. Starsky’s body ached from driving and he longed for a hot shower to ease his cramped muscles. After ordering a pizza, he sat down on the edge of the single bed and carefully slipped off his shirt, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks. The doctor had removed the bandages from his chest before Starsky left on his trip and taken out the stitches. The latest scar to add to his collection still stood out vividly on his chest. Cautiously, he ran his fingertips over the raised scar tissue. It was still tender but he could move around without it feeling like his chest was going to rip open.

Forty-five minutes, he stood under the lukewarm spray from the showerhead in the tiny bathroom. Even though the water wasn’t as hot as he would have liked, it still felt like heaven running over his strained, cramped muscles, easing the tension that had built up in his body during the long drive that day. Drying off briskly, he slid between the clean sheets without bothering to dress and drifted off to sleep. Early the next morning, he was on his way again.

By late afternoon, as he headed through Nebraska, the chill in the air was more noticeable making it necessary for him to pull over long enough to dig out his ski parka and put it on. Accustomed to the balmy California weather, even in the winter time, he had almost forgotten just how cold it could get in other parts of the country during November. The closer he got to his destination, the more danger there was of running into heavy ice or snow making traveling more difficult and treacherous. He pulled over early that night, checking into a Motel Six just across the South Dakota border. He still had at least one more day of steady driving before he reached the end of his journey.

He woke up the next morning to find the ground blanketed with snow and the weather reports were predicting heavy downfalls throughout the day. The dramatic change in the weather slowed down his travel time considerably. By late afternoon, he had finally reached the Minnesota border. He still had almost a hundred miles more to go before he reached the Hutchinson farm. He checked into a motel for the night, exhausted from the tension of driving in winter conditions all day.

He set out the next morning for the final lap of his journey. The roads had turned treacherous, covered with ice and snow, forcing Starsky to slow down more than he would have liked. The sky was turning dark when he finally found the little used road that according to Karen’s instructions led to her grandfather’s farm. The road had not been plowed, leaving drifts of snow covering the road in spots. Setting his jaw firmly, Starsky plowed his way through the smaller drifts. The Torino fishtailed a few times when the tires lost traction, sliding on the ice hidden beneath the patches of snow. Starsky had driven for about ten miles when the Torino hit a patch of ice and snow, going into a skid.

Starsky struggled to keep the big car in control, turning into the skid to try and get the car straightened out. His heart leapt into his throat when the Torino went into a spin. He felt the rear wheels slipping off the edge of the road, tilting precariously for a moment, before sliding backwards into the ditch. There was a bone jarring jolt as the car came to a sudden halt, the rear end buried in a huge snow drift that had cushioned the backward momentum.

Shaken, Starsky sat behind the wheel, panting heavily and waiting for his heart to stop pounding in his chest. He could barely see out of the windshield through the darkness and the snow that had started falling heavily. He knew that for the time being, he was safer in the car than he would be outside in the storm. But he knew that eventually he would have to leave the safety of the vehicle or run the risk of freezing to death. It was too dangerous to leave the motor running so he could have heat. With the windows closed, carbon dioxide would kill him quicker than the cold would. So, he sat there, wrapping his arms tightly around himself to keep warm and waited out the storm.

He must have dozed off. When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly, the glare off the snow almost blinding him. Starsky shivered violently from the cold and tried to get his bearings. According to Karen’s directions, the Hutchinson farm was still at least five miles down the road and up a long lane. Since Karen had mentioned that it was the only residence for at least thirty miles around, Starsky reasoned that it shouldn’t be too hard to find. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was. It was too cold in the car.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Starsky opened the door to step out of the car. He had to shove hard to push the door open against the snow that had drifted up above the under frame of the car. Starsky climbed out of the car, sinking almost to his knees in the soft cold snow in the ditch. He trudged up the side of the embankment to the road. The air was cold but at least there was no wind blowing to increase the wind chill.

Sighing heavily, Starsky began trudging down the road, wading through the drifts that blocked his way. It didn’t take long for the weariness to creep into his muscles but he forced himself to keep going. To stop would be suicide. His eyes hurt from the glare of the sun on the white powder that surrounded him. He stumbled to his knees, panting for breath. With a determined grunt, he forced himself back to his feet. His jeans were stiff and frozen from the knees down and his feet felt numb. He kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets, cursing himself for forgetting to bring any gloves with him. Every bit of exposed skin felt frozen and numb.

Starsky soon lost all track of time. It felt as if he had been stumbling through the drifts of snow for hours. He was no longer sure if he was even heading in the right direction. He was shivering violently and quickly becoming confused and disoriented. It was becoming more difficult to keep moving without stumbling. In the back of his mind, Starsky recognized the early signs of hypothermia. He had to find shelter soon or he would die in this god forsaken frozen wilderness.

He kept moving, stumbling more than walking now. He was so tired but he knew it was too dangerous to stop and rest. If he dozed off now, he would never wake up. He forced one foot in front of the other, functioning on pure survival instinct until he simply couldn’t go any further. He fell to his knees and didn’t get up this time. He couldn’t go on. He had no strength left. His eyes rolled back in his head as he fell sideways into the snow, feeling the darkness that reached out to drag him into its deadly embrace.

CHAPTER 8

Hutch poured a cup of coffee and walked over to the window above the sink, staring out over the heavy snow that blanketed the fields surrounding the farm. He knew it could be a week or more before the plows bothered with the road that lead to the farm. Getting snowed in for days, sometimes weeks at a time, wasn’t uncommon this time of year. Luckily, Hutch was well aware of this and had made sure he had ample supplies to see him through in the event of getting snowed in.

A flash of color in the distance suddenly caught his attention. Hutch frowned as he squinted his eyes and tried to make out the object half buried in the snow but it was too far away to tell for sure what it was. Still, Hutch knew whatever it was, it shouldn’t be there. He decided to investigate. Setting his cup down on the table, he quickly pulled on his heavy sheepskin jacket and fur lined gloves.

He opened the door and stepped out into the bitter cold. Lowering his head, he made his way across the yard to the barn and disappeared inside. Lobo, a big black stallion, snorted a greeting, stomping one hoof impatiently against the ground in his stall.

Murmuring softly to calm the high-strung animal, Hutch gently rubbed the silky muzzle as he opened the stall door and slipped a halter over the animal’s head. Leading the horse out of the stall, Hutch dropped the ends of the halter to the ground. Lobo stood in place as Hutch quickly saddled him. Grabbing the reins, Hutch led the horse from the barn, slinging himself into the saddle once they were outside and gently nudging the horse in the flanks. He headed in the direction of the spot of color he could see in the distance.

As Lobo carefully stepped his way through the deep snow and into the field, Hutch kept his attention focused on the color outlined against the snow in the distance.

As he drew closer, Hutch caught his breath sharply when he realized the color he saw was part of a jacket. Someone was lying half-buried in the snow. Urging Lobo to pick up the pace, Hutch soon reached the body. Jumping from the horse’s broad back, Hutch knelt beside the fallen man and reached out, gently turning him over onto his back in the snow bank.

Hutch felt as if Lobo had suddenly kicked him in the chest when he saw the face of his best friend and partner. “Starsky?” he choked out in a broken voice “How the hell did you get here?”

Hutch pulled off one glove and frantically pressed his fingers against the side of Starsky’s neck, flinching at the ice-cold skin he felt beneath his touch. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a weak, unsteady pulse. He knew there was no time to waste. He had to get Starsky back to the house and get him warmed up immediately before he died from hypothermia. Hutch had no way of knowing just how long Starsky had been lying there in the snow but he knew it couldn’t have been too long or Starsky would have been dead by now.

Shoving his loose glove in his pocket, he carefully slipped his arms around his friend’s body and lifted the unconscious man into his embrace. He gently settled Starsky’s body over the saddle, lying him on his stomach across the broad back of the horse. Grabbing the reins, Hutch began walking back to the house, leading Lobo behind him. When he reached the front porch, Hutch gently eased Starsky’s limp body from the horse’s back. Balancing Starsky’s weight against him for a moment, he slapped the horse across the rump. Lobo immediately headed for the barn where he would stay until Hutch had time to tend to him. Gathering Starsky into his arms, Hutch turned and carried him into the house.

He carried the brunet into the downstairs bedroom and laid him on the big feather bed. Quickly, he stripped the frozen wet clothing from the smaller man. Hutch hastily assessed his friend’s condition. Starsky’s skin was blanched white and his lips were blue. His breathing was slow and labored, his lungs struggling for air. His skin was cold to the touch and both his fingers and toes showed signs of frostbite. His core temperature was dangerously low. Hutch sighed heavily, he had to get some warmth restored to Starsky’s body as quickly as possible, and the easiest way to do that was to share his own body heat.

Hutch quickly stripped off his own clothes and lay down on the bed beside his friend, pulling a heavy quilt over top of them. He pulled Starsky’s body close to his own, catching his breath at the bitter coldness of his friend’s skin against his own. Hutch knew that what Starsky really needed was to be in the hospital but getting him there was not an option with the heavy snow outside. So the big blond would have to rely on long forgotten techniques he had learned at his grandfather’s knee when he was a child to save his friend’s life. He resisted the urge to rub Starksy’s arms and hands, knowing that would do more damage then good. Doing that would force the cold blood back towards the heart and could cause Starsky to go into cardiac arrest.

Hutch could feel the coldness from Starsky’s body creeping into his own bones as he held him friend close, sharing his warmth. Finally, Starsky’s body seemed a bit warmer to the touch and the blue slowly faded from his lips. But, Hutch knew that he wasn’t out of danger yet. Slipping out of bed, he carefully tucked the heavy quilt around Starsky to hold in what little body heat he had regained. Pulling on a pair of heavy sweat pants and a sweater, Hutch went into the adjoining bathroom and filled the tub with warm water. He soaked several thick towels, wringing out the excess water and carried them back into the bedroom.

Pulling back the quilt, he carefully arranged the warmed towels against the back of Starksy’s neck, over his chest and on his groin. When the towels had cooled down, he wet them again and repeated the process, slowly raising Starsky’s body temperature. After four hours, he took Starsky’s temperature. It was 91.2 so Hutch continued the slow warming process. Starsky was breathing easier but he showed no signs of regaining consciousness. After two more hours, Starsky’s temperature was up to 93.6, so Hutch redressed the brunet in a pair of heavy seat pants, thick socks and a heavy sweatshirt, covering him back up with the quilt. He had done all that he could, now all he could do was wait and keep a close eye on his friend.

Since the downstairs bedroom had its own fireplace for use during the winter months, Hutch quickly built a fire to heat up the room even more. He ignored his own discomfort, his only concern was caring for his injured friend. He silently cursed himself for not having the phone in the cabin turned back on when he arrived but even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have done much good. The phone lines usually went down when it snowed this heavily. Right now, Hutch was all that stood between Starsky and certain death.

Hutch pinched the bridge of his nose as the adrenaline rush slowly seeped from his system, leaving him exhausted. He wondered how Starsky had ended up in the snow-covered field and how he had even known to look for Hutch at his grandfather’s farm. Hutch realized that Starsky must have driven off the road at some point before reaching the farm but there was no way that Hutch could leave him to go searching for the car. Even if someone found it, it would be towed to the nearest town until the owner could be located and since the Hutchinson farm was the only residence along the long lonely stretch of highway, odds were someone would check there first to see if Hutch knew anything about the abandoned vehicle.

Around nine pm, Hutch checked Starsky’s temperature again, breathing a deep sigh of relief when it registered 98.6. A more natural color had returned to Starsky’s face and his cheeks were flushed. Satisfied that Starsky’s condition was no longer critical, Hutch stretched out on the bed beside his friend, staying on top of the quilt, and allowed himself to sleep.

CHAPTER 9

Hutch opened his eyes, wondering for a moment why it was so damned hot in the room. Then he felt the firmness of the blanket covered lump beside him and remembered. Starsky. He turned his head to look at his friend’s face. Starsky was still unconscious, his face covered with a light sheen of sweat and his face flushed. Instinctively, Hutch reached out to touch the back of his hand to Starsky’s forehead, cursing under his breath when he felt the heat radiating from the skin. Now Starsky was running a fever, obviously a complication from his bout with hypothermia.

Sighing softly, Hutch shoved himself to his feet and went into the bathroom, returning with a cool cloth to place on Starsky’s feverish brow. From the sound of the brunet’s breathing, he had some congestion in his chest. If Hutch was careful, then all Starsky would end up with would be a bad cold and not pneumonia. Hutch put out the fire in the fireplace but kept Starsky covered with the quilt. Satisfied that the brunet was resting comfortably, Hutch left the room and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast and a pot of coffee.

He should have known that Starsky would come looking for him and wouldn’t rest until he found him. He knew they would have to talk when Starsky was awake and stronger but Hutch wasn’t sure if he had the answers that Starsky was going to want. How could he explain the reasons for his actions over the past few weeks? He wasn’t really sure that he understood himself why suddenly everything Starsky did or said seemed to irritate the hell out of him. And it wasn’t just Starsky, it seemed as if everything in Hutch’s life irritated him, Starsky was just a convenient target to take his frustrations out on out. Maybe it was because he knew deep down that Starsky would take whatever Hutch dished out and come back for more. Or maybe on a deeper level, Hutch had been trying to push Starsky away the same way he eventually pushed away everyone in his life that got too close.

The truth was, deep down, Hutch had never believed that he deserved a friend like Starsky. A friend who had accepted him as he was with all his faults and flaws. Someone who loved him unconditionally without any unrealistic expectations. A friend who had seen him at his worst and still stuck around. A friend that Hutch had treated like crap, putting him down and calling him names, hurting his feelings intentionally time and time again. A friend that had almost died twice within the past few weeks because of Ken Hutchinson. What kind of friend did that make Hutch?

Hutch made some oatmeal and toast for himself. He also heated up some chicken broth in case Starsky woke up later on and felt like eating something. After eating, he returned to the bedroom to check on the brunet. Starsky had kicked off the quilt during Hutch’s absence and was tossing his head from side to side against the pillows, mumbling incoherently. Hutch quickly rushed to his side and reached out to touch him, gently rubbing his hand up and down the brunet’s arm. Starsky immediately calmed at Hutch’s touch, a reaction that Hutch had grown accustomed to seeing through the years.

With a start, Hutch realized how much he had been avoiding touching Starsky in the past few weeks and how much he had missed it.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Hutch said in a soft, soothing voice. “You’re okay now. Just relax and try to get some sleep.”

“Hu’sh?” Starsky mumbled in a barely audible voice without opening his eyes. To anyone else, his words would have sounded like gibberish but Hutch had become an expert over the years at interrupting Starsky’s semi-conscious ramblings.

“Yeah, pal…it’s me. It’s Hutch.” He ran his fingers through the thick sweaty curls, relieved to note that Starsky’s fever had broken. Hutch didn’t even notice that his voice had automatically softened to the gentle tone that he only used with Starsky at times like this. He heard the soft exhalation from Starsky’s parched, dry lips as the brunet drifted back to sleep.

Hutch smiled thinly as he realized how even now Starsky still trusted him completely. Trusted Hutch to keep him safe and protected. It was a trust that Hutch knew he didn’t deserve, not after everything he had done and said to the brunet recently. Leaving Starsky to rest, Hutch tended to some household chores, while keeping a close ear out in case Starsky needed anything.

Around noon, he heard Starsky shifting around in the bed and went in to check on him. The brunet’s eyes were open but glazed and confused as he looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings.

“Starsk?” Hutch said softly so he wouldn’t startle his friend.

Starsky’s eyes immediately sought out Hutch’s familiar features and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Hutch…” he whispered, “I found you.”

“More like I found you, pal.” Hutch told him with a soft chuckle. “And you’re damn lucky I did before you froze to death.”

“Hutch, I gotta go…” Starsky whimpered, trying to push himself up from the bed.

“Hang on, buddy. Let me give you a hand.” Hutch said, as he wrapped his arm around Starsky’s shoulders and helped him stand up. His balance was unsteady and he leaned heavily against the big blond as Hutch helped him into the adjoining bathroom. He kept a firm hold around the brunet’s waist as Starsky stood at the commode and relieved himself. When he was finished, Hutch helped him back to the bed. Once Starsky was settled in, Hutch smiled at him fondly and said, “You feel up to eating something? I got some chicken broth in the kitchen.”

“Sounds good.” Starsky said with a weak smile.

“Be right back.” Hutch said, leaving the room long enough to get the food, along with a tall glass of orange juice. When he returned, he pulled a comfortable chair up to the side of the bed and began to feed his recovering partner. Starsky allowed the coddling without complaint. He could sense a change in Hutch’s attitude for which he was grateful. Maybe now they could get to the bottom of whatever had caused the recent problems between them. Still weak from his ordeal combined with his previous injuries, Starsky had trouble staying awake long enough to finish the bowl of broth. When he finished the last spoonful, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Hutch smiled and sat there for several minutes, watching his friend sleep. Finally, he shoved himself to his feet and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. It was early evening before Starsky woke up again, more alert and stronger than he had been earlier in the day. Still slightly unsteady on his feet, he accepted Hutch’s help to get out of bed and joined him in the living room in front of a roaring fire.

Hutch had fixed a light supper of broiled chicken breasts and baked potatoes. Hungrier than he realized, Starsky ate his share and happily accepted the bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream that Hutch gave him for desert. They had kept their conversation casual, carefully avoiding discussing the unresolved issues that lingered between them. There would plenty of time for that in the days to come. Hutch had already warned Starsky that they might be snowed in for days, maybe even a week or more. For now, Starsky was content to share this time with Hutch without the two of them arguing. When it came time for bed, Hutch insisted that Starsky take the downstairs bedroom while he slept in one of the upstairs rooms.

Finding himself unable to sleep, Starsky slipped out of bed and decided to raid the kitchen. He found a bottle of ginger ale in the refrigerator and some chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard. Satisfied with his late night snack, he padded into the living room and sat down in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth and entranced by the flickering light that the flames cast on the walls in the darkened room. He felt the peace and tranquility of his surroundings wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. Around two am, he finally got drowsy enough to return to the warmth of his bed.

CHAPTER 10

Starsky stood in the living room looking out of the big bay window that overlooked the front yard. The ground was blanketed with white, giving everything a clean, pristine appearance. Ice coated the bare branches of the old oak tree, glistening like diamonds in the sunlight. Starsky had forgotten just how beautiful nature could be at times like this. In New York, the snow in the wintertime had always resembled a dingy gray slush and it didn’t snow in California except up in the mountains.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hutch’s voice said from over the brunet’s left shoulder.

“Yeah, it is.” Starsky admitted. “As long as I’m in here and not out there in it somewhere.”

“You never did tell me how you found me. I never told you about this place.” A hard edge crept into his voice as he questioned his friend’s sudden appearance at the farm.

“Karen told me. She was worried about you after your last call.” Starsky explained. “I promised her that I’d tell you to call her when I found you.”

“Afraid that’s gonna have to wait until we get dug out of here.” Hutch reminded him.

Starsky turned away from the window and looked at his best friend’s face. His eyes turned dark and serious. “What went wrong, Hutch? Is it something I did or said that made you mad? Or was it just me? Are you tired of me? Tired of being my friend?”

“Starsk…I don’t think this is the time or the place to get into this” Hutch said evasively. “It seems like nothing in my life matters anymore. Not the job…not even you.” Hutch ignored the look of pain that crossed Starsky’s face at his harsh words.

“So that’s it?” Starsky said, his temper flaring. “It’s over? Just like that? You didn’t want me around anymore?” There was a sharp edge to his voice with a combination of frustration and anger coloring his tone.

“I told you to leave me alone…I didn’t want to talk to you.” Hutch reminded him, somewhat arrogantly, as he turned to walk away.

“You ain’t gonna get off that easy this time, buddy!” Starsky said in a determined voice, reaching out to grab the big blond’s arm. “You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been going on in that empty head of yours!” Hutch’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked pointedly at the hand on his arm. Starsky saw the warning glare in those ice blue eyes but chose to ignore it. “What went wrong, Hutch? What happened to us? To me and thee?”

“Maybe there never was a me and thee.” Hutch said, forcibly pulling his arm out of Starsky’s grasp. “Or maybe it’s just time we both moved on.” He turned and stomped up the steps, disappearing to the second floor. Starsky stood in the middle of the living room, staring after his departing figure, a look of confusion etched on his face. For a few hours at least, Hutch had seemed to be getting back to normal, then his mood had abruptly changed again in a matter of seconds. He was hiding something. Starsky was sure of that. But what? And why wouldn’t he share whatever it was with Starsky?

Starsky let his thoughts drift back over his years as Hutch’s best friend and partner. He knew that he let Hutch act superior most of the time, even though Starsky knew in his heart that when it came to “street smarts”, he was the one who had taught Hutch everything he knew. Starsky had always dreamed of going to college but when he turned eighteen, Uncle Sam had different plans for him. He’d gotten his higher education in the jungles of Viet Nam.

Because of Hutch’s higher-class background and cultural advantages, the truth was Starsky sometimes felt that Hutch was a better man than he was. He could fit in more easily into the undercover assignments that required them to mix with ‘high society’ or the ‘rich and famous’ than Starsky ever could. Starsky always felt out of place and awkward in those situations and relied on Hutch to make sure he didn’t make too much of a fool out of himself. Starsky was well aware of the insecurities that the blond generally kept well hidden behind his arrogant and sometimes callous veneer. One way of helping Hutch to cope with those insecurities was by letting him be the one in charge.

When it came to the job, Starsky had never felt inferior to Hutch. He knew that on the streets, they were equals. He knew that their partnership had always been a unique one, just like their friendship. Two complete opposites who managed to compliment each other and keep each other balanced. But now, Starsky couldn’t help but wonder if his own compliancy had led to the problems they were experiencing. All he cared about was salvaging their friendship. It was too precious to him to lose.

Starsky’s eyes darkened his patience finally at an end. It was time to have it out with Hutch once and for all. Squaring his shoulders, he trudged up the steps after his friend, determined to find out what was bothering Hutch so much that he was ready to throw away all their years of friendship and his career. He opened the door to Hutch’s upstairs bedroom without bothering to knock and went inside. Hutch had been standing at the window, staring out over the frozen landscape. He turned at the sound of the door opening, his eyes narrowing when he saw Starsky standing behind him.

“You just don’t know when to back off, do you?” he growled

“Not this time, pal.” Starsky said in a determined voice that Hutch recognized far too well from all their years together as friends and as partners. Starsky wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he had some answers, answers Hutch wasn’t ready to divulge. Hutch started to step past him, intending to leave the room, away from Starsky’s demanding eyes. When Starsky reached out to grab his arm to keep him from leaving, Hutch reacted instinctively and swung out, smacking the brunet in the jaw with a perfect right cross.

Starsky fell to the floor, landing on his ass. Stunned, he looked at Hutch for a moment, before slowing shoving himself to his feet. Rubbing his aching jaw with his left hand, he looked at Hutch and said coldly, “Feel better now? Wanna take another shot? Go ahead if it’ll make you feel better.” His eyes narrowed dangerously as he added “But, then it’s my turn.” Silence hung heavily in the room for several minutes, neither of them speaking. “What’s it gonna be, Hutch? We gonna talk or are we gonna punch each other out? See who can hit the hardest?” Starsky demanded, waiting for Hutch to respond.

Hutch’s shoulders seemed to sag in defeat, the fight gone from his eyes, replaced by a deep sadness and resignation. Why are you always so ready to forgive me?” he hissed at Starsky. “No matter what I do, you always forgive me.”

“Because you’re the best friend I’ve ever had and that means something to me.” Starsky replied. “I learned a long time ago not to trust most people, not to let myself get too close…it was easier that way. Until I met you…then you shot all my defenses to hell, broke down all those walls I’d built up around myself. I trust you with my life, Hutch…and with my heart.”

“I’m not worth it, buddy.” Hutch said, shaking his head from side to side. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Why can’t you see that you are? At least to me you are.” Starsky sighed in frustration. He wasn’t as good with words as Hutch was but he had to find a way to make the big blond understand how much his friendship meant to the brunet. “You’re the other half of me, Blondie. Sometimes I don’t know where you stop and I begin. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t want to.”

“Still me and thee, huh?” Hutch asked with a soft smile. “You won’t give up on me even when I give up on myself…and on you.”

“Somebody has to care enough to hold this relationship together sometimes.” Starsky agreed, only half teasing. “Talk to me, Hutch. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I quit the force, Starsk…I’m not a cop anymore and I’m not sure if I’ll ever wanna go back to being one.”

“So? Then we’ll find something else to do.” Starsky said as if the answer were as simple as that. “We don’t have to be cops to still be partners.”

“Starsky, I’m not sure I can do this right now…I’m not sure I can tell you what’s wrong.” Hutch admitted, something like fear flickering for a moment in his eyes before fading away.

“Well, it doesn’t look like we’re going any place for a while.” Starsky quipped. “So, you’ll have plenty of time to think.”

“How about some hot chocolate?” Hutch asked, deftly changing the subject before it got too mushy. “I’ll even let you have some of those little marshmallows you like so much.”

“Sounds great.” Starsky said, stepping aside so that Hutch could leave the room. If he needed more time, Starsky could give him that, as long as Hutch eventually confided in him. They had made some progress towards addressing the issues that had come between them but they still had a long way to go before things were back to normal. Or at least what passed as normal for them. There would be plenty of time to talk more later. They were still on shaky ground but things were looking better.

CHAPTER 11

Hutch went down to the kitchen and gathered the ingredients to make hot chocolate. He felt terrible about hitting Starsky. One more sin to add to his growing list of wrongs against his partner and best friend. Hutch knew that his recent dissatisfaction with his job and his life in general stemmed from something deeper that just getting older and being burned out. He was almost forty years old and still single and he doubted very much if that was about to change anytime soon. He had been estranged from his immediate family for years and that wasn’t about to change.

He knew he could take the Lieutenant’s exam and advance in the department, finally getting off the streets. But that meant he couldn’t be partners with Starsky anymore. Was that what he really wanted or not? The brunet didn’t have enough college credits to qualify to take the exam. If Hutch did, would Starsky see that at some kind of betrayal of their friendship? Would he remain on the streets with a new partner? Hutch didn’t think so. He didn’t think either one of them could ever work with another partner after working together for so long. And he knew that Starsky would never be happy working behind a desk all day. It just wasn’t in the restless man’s nature to be stuck in the office on a regular basis.

And if he decided not to go back to the department, then where would that leave Starsky? Would he quit the force too just because Hutch did? Being a cop had always been more Starsky’s calling than his. Police work was deeply engrained in his psyche. For that matter, what would Hutch do if he didn’t go back to the force? Go back to college and get his medical degree? He didn’t think so. He had no interest in being a doctor, or a lawyer, or a businessman. None of the high paying occupations that would satisfy his father and live up to the Hutchinson name.

But the biggest issue was his friendship with Starsky. Did he want to sacrifice that the way he had been trying so hard to do? He’d been trying his damnest to push the brunet out of his life for weeks without much success. He’d put him down, called him names, been deliberately cold and cruel to his best friend. Why? Because he could. It was as simple as that. He knew that Starsky would take it and still be his friend. Not that Starsky was some kind of pushover. Far from it. Starsky had a hot, volatile temper and could explode with little provocation. But, when it came to Hutch, Starsky would consistently look the other way and ignore the barbs and the superior attitude that would set him off if it came from anyone else.

That was the one thing Hutch knew he could always count on when it came to Starsky. The brunet accepted him just as he was with all his faults and shortcomings. He let Hutch feel superior even when the blond knew that Starsky was just as smart as he was, in some ways even smarter especially when it came to ‘street smarts’. If Starsky had had the same opportunities that Hutch had been given growing up, the brunet could have been anything he wanted. Hutch was proud of his stubborn, impulsive, and sometimes childlike friend. He wouldn’t have changed him for the world. But that still didn’t excuse him for the way he had been treating