Crossroads

By Cynatnite

Hutch handed the shoulder bag to Starsky and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You have your boarding pass?”

Starsky held it up for Hutch to see. He gave his partner a nervous look and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “Maybe I should wait. I can go home anytime.”

With a smile, Hutch shook his head. “We’ve discussed it, Starsk. This is a perfect time for you to go. You’ll be back full-time in a few weeks and the doctors gave the approval to fly home. You may not get another chance once you’re back to work. Besides, your mom is expecting you and so are all your relatives.”

“But two weeks? Hutch, that’s a long time, you know.”

Hutch’s laugh was a sympathetic one. “It’ll be over before you know it, buddy. Take it. You deserve it.”

Starsky stepped forward after hearing his flight number being called over the intercom. “This is it. I’ll call when I get in.”

“Do that,” Hutch told him.

Pulling Hutch in a tight hug, Starsky said, “Take care of yourself, partner.”

Hutch was glad to return the embrace and gave Starsky a gentle rub on the back. “It’s not forever." He stepped back. “Get going before you miss your flight, turkey.”

Watching Starsky leave brought a lump to Hutch’s throat. After his partner boarded the plane, he wandered to one of the enormous plate glass windows showing the tarmac. After a few minutes, the plane began pulling away from the terminal. Seeing Starsky’s faint face in the window, Hutch raised his hand. His smile didn’t feel real as his partner gave him a wave back. He didn’t move until the plane was out of sight.

He pushed away from the window and started walking through the terminal. Starsky needed it, he thought. Seemed like only yesterday he was shot down when it was almost six months ago. Starsky’s family had remained patient while he recovered and for that, Hutch was glad. For the first time since he had known his partner, he wanted Starsky all to himself. He didn’t want to share him with anyone. Hutch was confident no one could take care of Starsky like he could.

For the first time in a long time, Starsky needed him and Hutch was more than willing to give it. He needed Starsky to need him. A new sense of purpose had reinvigorated him, and Starsky’s desire to get back on his feet was so strong, Hutch had thrown himself into his partner’s care and recovery.

Before, they had been partners, but not working as a team they were so famous for. Two separate entities working towards the same goal, but on opposite universes opposed to each other. Hutch could never put his finger on when everything changed and he knew he could name the millions of little things that happened along the way to accelerate the shift in their relationship. As much as it killed him to see his partner’s close call with death and the hellish recovery afterwards, they had worked as one to bring Starsky’s body back as close to before the shooting as humanly possible.

Hutch got in the Torino and started out of the parking lot. As he headed home, he gripped the steering wheel. Starsky’s mother had wanted to come out, but with a recent bout of the flu, his partner wouldn’t hear of it. After talking to the doctors and Dobey, it was decided two weeks in New York would satisfy everyone except for Hutch. He plastered a stupid smile on his face and told his partner it was the perfect solution. He wanted to go just to be with Starsky, but with the recent manpower shortages, Dobey needed every cop he could get. His partner almost changed his mind, but Hutch wouldn’t hear of it.

The trip was necessary. Starsky needed to reconnect with his family and Hutch knew how important family was to his loving partner. Hutch's own family was as emotionally distant as the miles between them. Listening to Starsky talk to his mother, Nicky or any of the other numerous family members, made Hutch envious. He had to admit he wanted it more than he’d ever say to anyone else. As Hutch drove, the heavy blanket of loneliness settled over his heart.

Goddamn it, Hutch swore. He loved his partner needing him. It made him feel so damn good, but needing Starsky the way he did, hurt. Standing in the airport seeing Starsky off, Hutch had to fight the strong urge to throw himself into his partner’s arms and beg him not to go. During Starsky’s recovery, their interdependency had grown almost too fast. He could already see it now. He’d be waiting by the phone in anticipation of every phone call. God, he was going to miss Starsky. How in the hell was he going to get through the next two weeks without him?

Hutch took deep breaths in and out as he looked over the past years. Becoming a cop was what drove him, and when he and Starsky finally graduated from the academy, Hutch had carried the rulebook like a Bible, and with every fiber in his being, he was determined to save the world. He’d been so idealistic in those days, and how cynical his partner was. It was the perfect balance. A cop wanting to make every wrong right, and his partner with the street smarts kept an even steadiness in a world gone crazy.

When did he start to lose the want and the need to make the world a better place? It was several things. Kidnapped and shot up full of heroin, Gillian’s death and even the death of his avaricious ex-wife certainly helped it along, Hutch remembered with morbid fascination. Years of hard street work and watching that cement wall of death and despair grow no matter how hard he pounded against it with his bare fists. It was clear the difference in the world he was striving for was making little headway. Now, Hutch thought with a sigh, he felt all used up. All the love, passion and idyllic views of the world were gone. Just getting through each day sometimes was even more difficult than the day before, it seemed.

He pulled off the freeway and turned towards Venice Place. The closer he got to home, the more it became clear to him. In his mind's eye, Hutch could see Starsky’s smile and that wonderful Starsky strut which made it obvious he owned whatever room he walked into. That boyish grin almost made Hutch smile. Every Starsky foible, Hutch loved. All the little things from the nerve-wracking Starsky logic to the unending thirst for knowledge, even at its most inane, Hutch just loved. How much can one human being love another, Hutch mused thoughtfully. Is it as much as I love Starsky? Probably not.

~*~

Over the next three days, Hutch worked as much as anyone could. Dobey finally ordered him home by the third. He stayed busy with taking care of long-neglected tasks, which included his precious plants. He’d done little more than water them. He went to Starsky’s, checked the mail, watered those plants and even unnecessarily cleaned the apartment. By the fourth day, Hutch was bored. Without Starsky’s presence, his own world was somber, dark and damn depressing. The two phone calls from Starsky left Hutch needing more than he had any right to ask.

~*~

Hutch moved to the back of the bar to a quiet table. He’d become almost a regular in this little place off the beaten track. In the last three weeks he came here when Starsky was too tired and he didn’t want to face his lonely apartment. Hutch didn’t want to smother his partner so an option was to take a quiet night away from anyone and everyone that knew his face. This place was it. It was obvious to Hutch the bar was the same for others. Hetero and same-sex couples frequented it and the few times he’d been approached, he made it clear he wanted to be left alone.

There was one person who began making himself a regular since he started coming here. Hutch studied the younger man, who would sit at the bar nursing a drink. Hutch wasn’t going to lie to himself. The dark blue eyes and equally dark curly hair reminded him of Starsky, and the tight jeans and the leather jacket struck an undeniable chord that pulled on unspoken desire. There were times Hutch’s eyes never left the lone figure.

When the gaze of the man’s eyes settled on him, Hutch averted his gaze back to his drink. He didn’t have to look up to see his approach, and Hutch took a short sip from the glass.

“Hey.”

Hutch glanced up; the stark differences between the young man and Starsky were apparent. The hair didn’t seem nearly as curly and the dark blue eyes didn’t have the mischief his partner’s did. The skin was lighter and softer than Starsky’s own rugged appearance.

“Hey, yourself,” Hutch said in a low voice.

The young man shifted and gripped the drink in his hand. He motioned towards where Hutch sat. “Is it okay?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

The young man slid into a chair next to Hutch and took a swallow from his glass. “I’ve seen you here. Watching me.”

“Not gonna beat around the bush, are you?”

The young man met Hutch’s eyes. “Don’t see a point in it." He held his hand out. “Ricky.”

Hutch hesitated. He didn’t want this connection or involvement outside of the world he had created for himself, but out of politeness he’d go along with it. “Ken." Still mistrustful, he shook his hand.

Ricky took another sip and wiped the remnants off his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was wondering why you watched me.”

Hutch wasn’t in any mood for games. “You remind me of someone.”

“Oh, guess that explains it. You come here a lot?”

Hutch stroked his mustache. Okay, I’ll amuse him. “Sometimes. Quiet and out of the way.”

Ricky smiled and nodded. “No hassles. I can dig.”

Hutch sensed Ricky knew his reasons and everything told him to get out of this place. Instead, he motioned for the waitress. “You want another?” Why was he going along with the charade?

Reaching for the cigarettes in his inside pocket, Ricky nodded. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Hutch. Ricky took a long drag and leaned back while his companion ordered two drinks.

Hutch glanced at Ricky, giving him a quick once over with his cop eyes. Nice clothes, gold chain, and he needs a few pounds, he thought. The kid screamed hustler, and as he paid for the drinks, he wasn’t about to turn his back on him.

“Listen, man,” Ricky said, “you feel like talkin’ or somethin’? You look like you could use it.”

Hutch’s smile was sarcastic and didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t pull that shit. I know what you are and what you’re looking for.”

“What?”

Such an innocent act, Hutch thought smugly. Did Ricky think he was a fool? “I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re selling.”

Ricky took a long drag from the cigarette and blew the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t sellin’ anything. Wanted to know why you was watching me and you looked lonely is all. You want me to take off?”

The forcefulness of Ricky’s response made Hutch a believer and his cynical attitude remained. He took another drink. “No. Keep me company.”

Sensing an opportunity, Ricky leaned forward. “I’d like to. I ain’t got any place to be and I’d like to know you better, if that’s okay. No scam, man.”

Hutch nodded and took a long drink. “I’m a cop,” he asserted. “Any ideas you’ve got to pull a fast one won’t get you far.”

“Figured it was somethin’ like that,” Ricky mumbled. “Troubles with the cops is something I keep away from. I’ve never even been busted.”

A relief came over him. He sure as hell didn’t want to be dragged into the melodrama of bailing this kid out of trouble. He’d rather just walk the other way. “Seems like the safest route would be to get a job.”

A harsh laugh escaped Ricky. “Yeah, right. I can’t see a guy like me pulling a nine to five." He put the cigarette to his lips. “Can you do a job like that?”

“No.” Hutch lowered his eyes. “Wouldn’t know what one was like.”

“So we live dangerously,” Ricky said with a deep chuckle. “The only way we know how.”

It wasn’t in Hutch to voice his agreement. This was the closest he was going to connect with Ricky. He took another long drink from the glass.

“Hey, man,” Ricky said. “Why don’t I get the next round? Make it even, you know.”

“I’ve got an early morning,” Hutch hedged.

“One more.”

Hutch agreed and watched Ricky eagerly call the waitress over. Maybe he’s as lonely as I am. Another drink and he was going to crawl back to his dark apartment and onto the couch. Since Starsky’s departure, sleeping in bed just didn’t seem to be an option. Rather than look at the meaning behind it, he watched Ricky fumble with the lighter. It dropped to the floor and Hutch leaned down to pick it up. He handed it to Ricky. Taking a drink, Hutch began wondering what this young man’s story was. Stop it, he ordered himself silently. I’m not doing this.

They spoke of more meaningless matters for the next half hour. It was a relief to keep to more mundane and safe topics. Hutch took another drink and the image of Ricky blurred. He started to push himself up from the table and thought he’d made it clear he needed to go home, but he wasn’t sure if the words came out. The room was tilting and before Hutch knew it, a warm body was close, guiding him.

The next thing Hutch remembered was a soft bed beneath him. He felt warm all over and searched for the buttons on his shirt. Strange, he thought. Where’s my shirt?

Ricky glanced up from his task at the drugged police officer. He needed to hurry before the cop’s wits sharpened. When he finished, Ricky went to the bed and grabbed Hutch’s arm. He pulled the tourniquet from his pocket and wrapped it around Hutch's upper arm. Ricky checked the syringe, careful of the amount. Hutch already had a drug in his system and too much of a second would kill the cop. He flicked at the vein with his forefinger and it rose at demand. Ricky steadied the syringe and ignored the drunken reach of Hutch’s free hand as he pushed the willing needle in. He pulled back on the plunger and blood filled the hypodermic. Then Ricky gently pressed on the plunger and closely watched as the contents easily flowed into the cop.

The euphoria was almost instantaneous. Hutch felt his body rise and he hummed deeply as that familiar wave washed over him. Where’ve you been? he wondered. The rise of sweet nirvana was blissful and pure. Nothing seemed more perfect than now. Feeling the tug of his belt, Hutch forced his eyes open. A dark head was bent over him and pulling on his jeans. Smiling through drug-hazed eyes, Hutch tried to help. The jeans were pulled from his body, dragging the underwear with them. Hutch sighed with contentment as the dark head lowered.

When the warm mouth touched his abdomen, Hutch reached for his companion. This was it. All he wanted in the world was this fulfillment warmth and love.

“Starsk,” Hutch whispered. He forced his hand to the head and guided it. God, he was so hard. The dark head lifted and Hutch’s vision came in focus briefly. The once unrecognizable face morphed into Starsky’s. Calming beauty filled him. “Love you, Starsk.”

The face disappeared and Hutch’s hips surged forward at the warm hand on his erection. He closed his eyes and smiled when the hot moist mouth took him.

~*~

The first thing Hutch felt when he opened his eyes was pain in every pore of his body. He covered his eyes and waited for the bout of nausea to pass, then lowered his hand and pushed himself to a sitting position. He froze at seeing the strange wall in front of him. He looked around at an unrecognizable studio apartment with dirty, yellowed walls. Looking down at himself, he groaned at his nakedness. It took everything he had to move his legs to the side of the bed. When he was on his feet, Hutch’s eyes immediately went to the small table.

“Jesus,” Hutch whispered in shock. The evidence of the previous night sat there. Candle, burned spoon, syringe and leftover heroin.

The shaking started then. Hutch ran his trembling hand through his hair and his eyes raced through the apartment.

“Starsky?” Hutch asked in a small voice. Panic swept through him and his heartbeat refused to slow down. His eyes raced through the apartment, looking for his partner. God, Starsky! Where in the hell are you? Hutch’s heart screamed. He was at the very edge of withdrawal and hell was approaching. “Starsk,” Hutch whispered desperately.

“Hey!”

The voice startled Hutch and he whirled. Sitting up in the bed was Ricky, just as naked as he was. Hutch scanned the room and found his underwear crumpled inside of his jeans. He snatched them up and fumbled to get the underwear and jeans on.

Ricky moved out of the bed, pulling on an old pair of sweatpants. He went to Hutch and put his hands on his arms. “Hey, man. Relax.”

“What the fuck happened?” Hutch ground out. “I told you….!”

“It wasn’t like that, Ken. I swear!”

Hutch tried to button his jeans, but his shaky hands wouldn’t cooperate. “Wh-what time is it?”

Ricky glanced at the clock on the wall. “Almost seven.”

The heroin on the table beckoned and Hutch tore his eyes away once he realized he was watching it. “Got to go to work,” Hutch bit out, trying to get a grip on the warring turmoil inside of him. Panic was growing as he searched for his shirt.

“Hey, man. You’re wired. You go in like that and they’ll know something’s up.”

Hutch spotted his shirt on the chair and took two long strides. He grabbed it up and froze at the heroin sitting so innocently on the table. His body remembered and it shook. His mind remembered and it yearned. He didn’t even hear Ricky’s approach.

“There’s enough to take the edge off. You’ll get through work with nobody knowin’ and you can come back for a good hit later.”

Shaking his head with vehemence, Hutch said, “I’m a cop,” he breathed. Starsky should be here, Hutch swore. He was with me last time.

“You gonna arrest yourself?” Ricky rested his hands on Hutch’s shoulders. “It won’t be much. Just enough.”

Hutch didn’t resist as the hands guided him to a chair. He sat down and winced once his butt hit the wood. Why did that hurt? Hutch swallowed the enormous lump in his throat as he watched Ricky prepare the syringe. He almost bolted from the room, but remained hypnotized by the promise of a better day. Just enough to get through, Hutch swore. This would get him through the day and he’d go home. Kick it himself and Starsky will never know. By the time his partner got back, Hutch would be back to his old self and things would go back to normal. This mistake would be long forgotten.

Feeling the tourniquet tighten around his forearm, Hutch knew he wouldn’t forget. Never. His weakness was raw and painful. His stomach threatened to rebel nothing would quell the craving. Hutch knew in his current condition, with withdrawal upon him with no relenting, he’d never make it. He flinched at the stab of the needle and the rush came back. Oh, thank God. A sigh of relief escaped and the foreboding problems seemed so far away.

After a moment of getting used to the warm blanket around him, Hutch got to his feet. He swayed a little and held to Ricky’s arm for balance. “Don’t come looking for me,” Hutch warned him. “This was a one-time shot.”

“Yeah, man." Ricky knew he’d be back. He’d seen it a million times. He watched Hutch dress and sat down on the chair. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Hutch scooped up his wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket. He grabbed his holster, jacket and went to the door. “I won’t be back."

~*~

Once at work, Hutch soon busied himself, allowing for as little contact with other people as possible. The warm hum still ran through him, convincing him he would make it through the day. But one look from Dobey, and Hutch froze in his tracks.

“You look like hell, Hutch!”

The statement shook Hutch to his very core. “Rough night, Cap’n." Hutch grabbed a form, sat down and stuffed the paper into the typewriter. He kept his focus on the task as his grumbling captain left the squad room.

The more he yearned for the day to pass, the slower it moved. It was an unnerving snail’s pace that reminded Hutch of the previous night. By the end of the day, he didn’t feel so warm. In fact, the chill made him shiver. No one had to tell the veteran cop what he was beginning to experience. When Hutch finished the last report, he yanked it out of the typewriter, quickly scratched his name at the bottom of it, and after dropping it on Minnie’s desk, Hutch made his escape.

Walking into his desolate apartment, Hutch was confident he would be fine. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a large gulp it as he fixed soup on the stove. By the time Hutch sat the bowl on the table, he realized the brew wasn’t having the desired effect. Even knowing alcohol wouldn’t cure what ailed him, Hutch found a bottle of scotch and poured a glass. He downed it, then as he sat, he refilled it. He concentrated on eating and sipping the harsh liquor in between bites.

By the time Hutch finished eating, the shaking was considerable. A cramp rolled through him like an angry salty wave crashing into the shore. He stood up, and without thinking went to the phone. Hutch picked it up, ready to call Starsky, then stilled. Tell Starsky I picked up a hustler and got high on juice. Jesus! Hutch cried inside. How can I tell him that? He set the receiver down. With a firm shake of his head, he thought, No, I can’t tell him. I’ve got to ride it out. I can do this.

Hutch walked around to the couch and sat down. He grabbed a pillow and held it as though it were Starsky he was holding onto. The shakes were uncontrollable and Hutch threw the pillow to the floor. Swearing he was going to kill Ricky, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

Seconds later, the ringing of the phone echoed through the empty apartment.

~*~

Ricky jumped at the loud knock at his door. When he opened it, he wasn’t surprised to see Hutch standing there. The cop was sweating and the effects of withdrawal were well underway. Ricky pulled Hutch inside and closed the door. “Surprised you lasted this long.”

“You did this,” Hutch accused through shaky breaths.

Ricky sat Hutch down on the bed and found his stash in the bathroom. He walked to the table and looked over at him. “Man, you seemed willing enough." Ricky turned back and began preparing the syringe. “I’ve got to tell ya,” he chuckled, “you sure were lovin’ it. Never saw a guy wantin’ the stuff—and whoever you thought I was—as bad as you did.”

The guilt weighed on Hutch and his shoulders hunched lower. He stared down at the floor, then moved his eyes to the syringe that was pulling the sweet promise into itself. The anticipation grew like a man getting his first drop of water after crossing a desert.

Ricky moved in front of Hutch and set the syringe on the small nightstand. He pushed the jacket from Hutch’s shoulders and knelt. After rolling up Hutch's shirt sleeve, Ricky wrapped the tourniquet around his forearm, tapped the vein and it rose in need. Hutch took shaky breaths and when he saw the syringe in Ricky’s hand, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch. Knowing where he was and what he was allowing to be done to him, the weakness almost brought tears to his eyes. The agonizing pain tore at Hutch’s heart and when the needle pricked him, he breathed in relief, knowing it would soon leave him.

Hutch moaned as the ecstasy moved through him like warm honey. The world went away, along with the misery he carried inside of himself. The shirt was pulled from him and Hutch’s heavy eyes lifted to the dark head before him. This time he knew it wasn’t Starsky, but how easy it was to pretend.

The warm body leaned down and Hutch grasped the face and pulled it close. He was reminded of who it was not, by the scent. Closing his eyes, Hutch kissed the mouth and stepped out of himself. He could only see himself with Starsky. No other. Hutch watched himself pull the clothes from Starsky’s body. He smiled happily seeing Starsky’s hands wrap themselves around Hutch. It was Starsky he loved, it was Starsky’s cock he held in his hands and it was Starsky’s cock he put in his mouth. Hutch closed his eyes and moved back into his own body. It was Starsky he wanted to fuck.

~*~

Over the next several days, Hutch was still running. Running away from the pain and running away from Starsky. Avoiding the pain became an art, as was avoiding Starsky’s calls. Hutch knew that as long as he avoided the calls, he’d avoid the questions. It was easier not to talk to his partner than to lie. Lying to Starsky was never something Hutch could do. Starsky knew him too well. Knew his mannerisms, the lilt to his voice, and could detect the slightest waver. The cop instincts in his partner were so well honed Hutch could do nothing but to avoid them. Side-stepping the messages, not going home and staying away from his desk was the easiest. Hutch was more than willing to go out on the street and face a wide array of dangers rather than to face the man he loved more than his own life, even if it was a long distant phone call.

Ricky always had an endless supply of stuff, for which Hutch was grateful. He knew he shouldn’t be, but it was easy. Easy to pretend that, after the nirvana was swimming inside of him, it was Starsky under him and he was under Starsky. It was his universe and he could escape reality in the utopia with promise of heaven. Every time it was easier. He no longer looked away or closed his eyes when Ricky gave him that sweet dose of delicious promise.

~*~

In New York, Starsky set the receiver back in the cradle. It had been over a week since he'd last spoken with Hutch. Everything seemed fine over the phone. He’d left messages with Dobey, Huggy and everyone else that came to mind. He even called Hutch’s landlady. What was odd, Dobey assured him that even though Hutch was looking a little ragged, he went on about his duties as normal. Starsky shook his head.

He stood and went to the kitchen where his mother was busy at the sink. “Ma,” Starsky said, “think it’d be okay if I head home a few days early?”

Ruth looked into her son’s troubled eyes. “David, is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Starsky sighed. “Hutch won’t return my calls.”

“Nothing’s happened to him?”

Starsky put a calming hand on his mother’s shoulder. “No, Ma. It’s…I don’t know… I just think I ought to head home and check on him.”

Ruth gently smiled and put a warm hand on Starsky’s cheek. “You love him so.”

“Yeah, I do. I know it’s bothered some of the family that I never….”

“David.” Ruth took his hands in hers. “Do what makes you happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Relieved she understood, Starsky hugged her. “Thanks, Ma. I’d better go pack.”

Ruth stepped away and looked into his troubled eyes. “I’ll make your reservations, and don’t worry, David. He loves you, too.”

Starsky gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and headed upstairs.

~*~

In the dark street, Hutch pulled his jacket around him and glanced over at Ricky. “You sure about this?” The chill was starting to get to him.

Ricky shoved a nervous hand in his pocket. “Yeah, he’s reliable and he’s never been busted. It’s where I’ve been going for ours.”

Hutch looked down the dark alley. His need was great and when he showed up at Ricky’s, the hustler was on his way out the door to score. Hutch almost didn’t go, but knowing how bad he was starting to hurt, he changed his mind. Ricky’s habit was considerably higher and Hutch knew that it’d hit him much harder. His eyes shifted up and down the empty street. “You need any money?”

Ricky’s eyes locked with Hutch’s, then he looked away. “No, man. It’s all good.”

Hutch ran a shaky hand through his stringy hair, wishing he had at least taken a shower. He had questioned Ricky about how the young man was supporting two habits, but the answers were allusive and met with a new promise of heaven each time.

A lone figure walked to towards them and when Hutch started, Ricky put a hand to his chest to keep him in place. “Just wait,” Ricky whispered. “It’s better this way.”

He nodded and watched Ricky meet his dealer. He observed the short conversation between them and at the wild gesture of Ricky’s hands, Hutch started towards him.

“You fuckin’ shorted me!” Ricky accused.

“It’s all I’ve got,” the well-dressed man told him. “Make due until tomorrow.”

Ricky pointed a finger at the man. “You’re supposed to make sure I was well connected!”

“You get what you get,” the man said with a wave his hand.

Hutch halted and both men looked at him. The dealer was unfamiliar to Hutch and he breathed an uneasy sigh. “There a problem?” Hutch asked, reaching inside of his jacket. The magnum was in his grasp. Hutch was well aware of how bad a deal could go down.

Ricky stepped in front of Hutch. “No, it's okay, Ken.”

Hutch’s eyes never wavered from the man, who pulled his jacket back, exposing a weapon in its holster. He started pulling his weapon and Ricky’s hand caught his wrist. “Are you fucking nuts?”

Doom settled over Hutch when he heard the sarcastic chuckle from the well-dressed man. As the supplier left, Hutch closed his eyes and let his head drop. He had witnessed a drug deal go down and done nothing. He looked up and watched the figure disappear down the street. Hutch said nothing as Ricky pulled him towards his car.

Back at the studio apartment, Ricky fixed the delicious sweetness, and after seeing to Hutch, he dealt with his own need. Filled with a sexual desire and a high merging together, Hutch was pulled down onto the bed. After divesting themselves of their clothes, he was suddenly more alert than any other time he remembered. Feeling Ricky’s hands on him, the desire was beginning to wane. Hutch shifted on the bed, allowing for better access, and once penetration was reached, he realized he needed more for that sweet heaven he’d grown accustomed to. Hutch grunted loudly to the thrusts and he closed his eyes. This time willing Starsky’s presence was much harder.

~*~

Starsky told the cab driver to take him to Hutch’s place. When he arrived, seeing the Torino brought a sigh of relief. Shaking his head, he chastised himself for getting worked up over nothing. Not seeing Hutch’s car, Starsky assumed it was either in the shop or his partner was out. The late morning was growing warm and Starsky wiped the perspiration from his brow after paying the driver.

He hustled up the steps and knocked on the door. “Hutch,” Starsky hollered. Starsky fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He set his bag down once inside and glanced around the quiet apartment. Moving inside, Starsky noted how unkempt it was. Sheets and a wadded up pillow were on the floor near the couch, the apartment was littered with dirty clothes, and at seeing the bedroom, Starsky stopped. The bed was made and unused. His eyes wandered to the dresser where two drawers were half-open. As he moved about the apartment, his eyes went to the dirty kitchen, and when he went to the greenhouse, Starsky’s unease was compounded by the neglect of his partner’s beloved plants.

Ignoring his luggage, Starsky hurried from the apartment and hopped into the Torino. He rushed to his place, hoping to find some answers. Once inside, Starsky leaned against the door. He grabbed the pile of mail on the floor, knowing Hutch hadn’t been here for days, either. After dropping it on the coffee table, he left.

~*~

Starsky didn’t notice the looks coming from fellow officers as he headed to Dobey’s office. His only thought was Hutch. He opened the door to and closed it behind him. “Where’s Hutch?”

“Dave, you need to sit down,” Dobey ordered in a low tone.

Seeing the serious look in his captain’s eyes, Starsky shook his head. “No, I ain’t sittin’ until you tell me that he’s not dead.”

“No, son. He’s not.”

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief, but his insides wound up tight as Dobey motioned towards the chair. He moistened his lips and moved to sit. When his captain pulled a chair close to him, he closed his eyes. It’s bad, Starsky thought. If Hutch ain’t dead, he’s dyin’. God no, Starsky prayed.

Dobey sat down and cleared his throat. “I called your mother and she said you’d taken an early flight back.”

Starsky’s nod trembled. “Yeah, Hutch didn’t return none of my calls and I got worried. Jesus, Cap’n! Just tell me what happened to him! I can’t take not knowin’!”

Dobey put his hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “Hutch was picked up early this morning, Dave.”

Starsky shot out of his chair. “What the hell for?” he yelled. “Why ain’t he here tellin’ me this?”

The large man ran an uneasy hand over his face to get a handle on his emotions. “He’s in a holding cell, Starsky. I’ve been waiting for Huggy come and take care of him until you got back.”

“A holding cell?” Starsky asked in disbelief. “Have Huggy take care of him? Cap’n, you’re not makin’ any sense!”

Dobey’s eyes locked with Starsky’s tumultuous ones. “I need to know, Dave. Have you been covering for Hutch?”

“Covering for Hutch? What the hell are you talking about?” Starsky exclaimed. “Just tell me what's going on so I can go get Hutch!”

Dobey took a deep breath and slowly got to his feet. Starsky watched the disturbing looks cross his face. He readied himself. For what, he didn’t know.

“Dave, Hutch is looking at charges of possession, distribution and solicitation of a prostitute.”

Starsky stumbled back and his hand caught the wall behind him. “Mistake,” he said in a whispered breath. He shook his head. “No, Cap’n. You know Hutch. He’d never…”

“He was found with a male prostitute and several ounces of heroin.”

Starsky’s mind scrambled for words…for understanding…. “Hutch must’ve gone on his own. Looking for a dealer or something.”

Dobey moved behind his desk and eased into the chair. “Starsky, Hutch was high. Officers found several tracks on his arms.”

Starsky’s lower lip started trembling and he reached for the chair. “There’s got to be a mistake, Cap’n. Hutch would never….” He raised his eyes and straightened. “You asked me if I’d been covering for Hutch,” he said with unnerving calmness. “You think all this time…since what happened before….”

“Since you’ve been gone, Hutch has been on a steady decline. Given his state, we thought it was due to you being gone and the workload. It made sense.”

“No!” Starsky yelled. “I don’t know what the hell went on while I was gone, but Hutch has been clean since Forest shot that shit into him! He was set up, Cap’n!”

Dobey slammed his fist on the desk. “Don’t you think I want to believe that, Starsky? There are enough tracks on his arms to know this has been going on a while! He showed up here!” Dobey pointed towards the squad room. “What the hell am I supposed to think when he’s dragged in here at four in the morning and can barely say his own name!”

Starsky kicked at the chair sending it across the room. “I know Hutch! I know more about him than anybody else on this planet!” Starsky raised an angry finger at Dobey. “He’d never go back to that shit willingly and I’d stake my badge on it!”

“You might have to!” Dobey yelled back.

He stilled. “IA?”

“They’re pulling out all the stops on this one, Starsky. It’ll be you and him under the gun. Every case you two have worked on will be gone through with a fine tooth comb.”

Barely able to believe the twist of fate he was faced with, Starsky’s mind worked for explanations. “Hutch was the primary witness at Gunther’s trial. They’ll ask for a new one.”

“And they might just get it when this gets out.”

He planted his hands on Dobey’s desk and leaned forward. “Cap’n, Gunther’s still got money and some pull. Discrediting Hutch would be the way to go.”

“Proving it won’t be easy, Starsky.”

Starsky straightened. “I will." His searching eyes met Dobey’s doubtful ones. “Cap’n, I’ll need some help on this. People we trust.”

“Babcock and Simmons aren’t doing much.”

“Put them on this prostitute. Don’t let them make any moves on him just yet. Just follow the guy and keep tabs on who he meets with.”

The door swung open and Huggy walked through. “Starsky!” Huggy exclaimed with surprise. “You’ve no idea how good it is to see you.”

“Later, Hug,” Starsky said firmly. “Right now, there’s some things you’ve gotta do.”

“Name it, bro. I’m here.”

Starsky gave Huggy a pat on the arm. “Go to my place and pack some things. Hutch has stuff there, so grab his, too. Hit the store…you know what to get, and hook up with me at Hutch’s place.”

“You takin’ him there?”

Starsky shook his head. “No, I left my luggage there and I need it. Hutch has got to go someplace different. Not like before.” He swung around and looked at Dobey. “The cabin. Nobody’ll be there and it was just remodeled.”

Dobey nodded. “We added a bedroom and had the wiring fixed, plus a new phone line installed. It’s better than the last time you two were there.”

“I need time, Cap’n. Gotta find out what went down with Hutch and you need to buy me some.”

Dobey nodded. “I’ll take care of it, Dave. I just want you to be right.”

“I know I am, Cap’n.” Starsky looked to Huggy, then to Dobey. “Tell them to pull Hutch out. I’m on my way down.”

~*~

Starsky ignored the looks coming from his fellow officers as he headed to the stairs. The questions in their eyes were directed at him, wondering if he’d been covering for his drug-addicted partner. Starsky’s jaw clenched in anger at them and at himself for not being here when Hutch needed him.

He started mentally preparing himself as he headed down the hallway. Seeing strung-out Hutch the last time had nearly killed him. The fear, the hunger for relief, and the pain in his partner’s eyes had almost been more than he could bear. Starsky realized he didn’t know much about Hutch’s condition from the conversation in Dobey’s office.

Starsky kept his demands short when he went to the officer in charge. He followed him to the holding cell and his steps faltered. Could he see it again? He swallowed the hurtful lump in his throat and stepped forward when the cell door opened.

Hutch sat on the edge of the bunk, with his body sagging. His stringy hair fell around his collar and Starsky wondered what his face looked like. The trepidation in his steps seemed too obvious and Starsky had to force his feet to move to stand in front of him.

“Hutch,” Starsky said. He didn’t want any accusation or any type of emotion in his voice to give away what he was feeling at this moment.

The blond head rose, and seeing Hutch’s face, Starsky felt his legs almost give. The hollow look and glassy eyes stabbed inside him like a deep knife to his soul. Starsky forced himself to grab onto Hutch and pull him to his feet. He held tight to his partner as he guided him out of the cell. They were halfway down the hall, when Hutch mumbled out a ‘No’ and feebly tried to wrestle from Starsky’s grasp.

Starsky pulled Hutch to a nearby bathroom. Thankful it was empty, he put Hutch against the wall. He kept his hands on Hutch’s shoulders and forced his partner to look at him.

“Listen to me,” Starsky said in a tone that brooked no room for argument. “I’m takin’ you outa here and you’re goin’ with me. I don’t give a shit if I hafta drag you to my car. You’re goin’ whether you like it or not. Understand me, Hutch?”

The quiet nod was enough for Starsky. He yanked several paper towels from the dispenser and moistened them, then gently wiped the perspiration from his partner’s face.

“We’re gonna go someplace quiet and by ourselves, Hutch.