i am not bullet-proof
your skin is not made of kevlar
we can be broken
beyond fixing

it's time
to make it out alive
to make it out alive
together

"where do all the bullets go"
by youtooblondie

 

Prologue

— 1981 —

Starsky stopped at the top of the stairs leading toward the beach, where Hutch sat enjoying the sunset. Starsky was shivering, but he really wasn't sure why — it wasn't very cold and the evening was quiet and peaceful. Maybe it was because Starsky was here and Hutch was there? A little too far away for Starsky's liking. And maybe it was because of what Starsky was going to do? Fear and uncertainty never made him secure. Especially when it was Hutch who he would be about to lose if he failed.

They both had their own secret places, where they headed anytime they were in desperate need of privacy, when the world was just too much; when even breathing was an effort that was taking all their strength away.

And when Hutch went to his secret place Starsky never followed him. However, after what happened with Forrest, Starsky knew where it was and Hutch was aware of Starsky's sanctuary as well. They'd learnt the hard way and now, they never risked unnecessarily. The little precaution had saved their lives more than once and they hadn't intended to change the status quo. Not ever. Not willingly. And there were no questions when one of them disappeared for a while, no reproaches, and no excuses.

But the beach wasn't a forbidden territory for either of them. The beach was a neutral zone, where silence meant more than words and loneliness always ended in company.

That's why Starsky was now holding onto the rail quietly watching Hutch. Hutch hadn't been so tense in ages. These days they rarely allowed their work to become personal, the way they used to two years ago. But nonetheless it wasn't easy to avoid emotional attachment to the cases, to the evil in the word or the pain they had to witness every day. They'd learned how to do it, they knew how to detach mind from heart, but sometimes it didn't work.

Two years ago, after long and emotionally exhausting conversations they decided it wasn't worth the risk anymore. At first they expected that the intensified carefulness would decrease the number of their arrests, but something completely opposite happened. For some reason since they become more cautious the results were even better than before. And the work became easier as well because the fear wasn't such a burden as it had been before the attempt on Starsky's life. The assassination that could have ended their careers. But they survived and became a living legend. Starsky because he lived, and Hutch because he almost singlehandedly brought down the greatest organized crime empire in the United States.

Starsky sighed and headed down toward there Hutch was sitting.

"Mind if I join ya?" he asked when he was close enough to be heard. And suddenly he remembered the last time he had asked much the same question. That day Hutch left the force and Starsky, never hesitating, followed him in that decision and together they threw their badges into the ocean. He'd never regretted that decision but he wasn't sure of Hutch.

Hutch looked up and smiled.

"'Course not."

Starsky sat down and then turned to stare out at the sea. They stayed that way until the sun disappeared completely beyond the horizon.

"Hutch?" Starsky broke the silence finally, letting sand slip through his fingers.

Hutch cast him a look. "Yes?"

"Would you leave the force if I asked you to?" It hurt almost physically to ask the question, especially since they'd never talked about it in the last two years. But this time he really had no choice.

For a split second he could see pain in his friend's eyes, but Hutch only shook his head. It wasn't a forbidden topic, but hurtful enough.

"Starsk, you don't have to ask for anything," he said firmly. "You know I am where you are. Have I ever asked you to leave when I couldn't stand it anymore?"

But Starsky didn't want to go back to that either. And he couldn't let Hutch compare what had been to what happened two days ago.

"What would you do if I did?" he asked again.

Hutch looked at the horizon, but answered, "I would ask why."

That was fair. And sounded different than two years ago.

"Because I don't want to lose you?" Starsky whispered, searching his face.

"I thought we knew we weren't immortal anymore." Hutch still wasn't looking at him. But Starsky could read him without seeing his eyes.

"Because I don't want to hurt you?" he suggested.

Hutch cast him a sharp glance. "We are not having that discussion again!" he warned.

"It's not that discussion, Hutch. I respect you too much to bring it back."

"So why are we talking about it again?" Hutch's voice was as bitter as the evening air at the beach.

"You really have to ask? I know that if something happened to me... I don't want you to go through that hell again."

Hutch looked up and held Starsky fast with his gaze as surely as if he had with his hands. "Don't."

Yes, they both recalled the worst year in their lives. The year that was nonetheless a beginning of something beautiful.

Starsky also remembered that Hutch's tears weren't tears of relief or pain when they finally came. It was just a mere reaction to all the stress and tension Hutch had to live with during the unending months after the Gunther case was over. Months when Hutch had to be strong and composed, when he was supposed to know all the answers and to be the one who figured out every problem or setback.

But when Starsky was home again, Hutch couldn't hide all the emotions anymore. Didn't have to — and he knew it. They had witnessed each other in such emotional and physical states that they didn't need to pretend. That's why Hutch could let go and cry on Starsky's shoulder at three o'clock in the morning that day. Sometimes all it took was touch of Starsky's hand on Hutch's cheek, and the "Not today — Tomorrow — Never" time overwhelmed his senses and all he could do was cry himself to sleep in Starsky's arms.

Starsky remembered that it was the first time they had talked about the future. Because suddenly there was a future. Bright and real and tangible. All it took was to reach over and hold onto it with everything they had.

That night they decided to stay with the force. Together. They never brought it up again. Hutch knew how much it meant for Starsky and Starsky would never disrespect his friend's courage to question that decision.

So now, sitting by his side Starsky could only hope that he had at least as much courage as Hutch had then.

"I can't do it anymore," he admitted slowly. "Nothing's worth the risk anymore," he tried to explain.

Hutch looked at him and shook his head. "You don't have to," he said with such warmth in his eyes that Starsky blinked.

"We don't have to," he managed to correct him.

"You were thinking about the job Dobey offered us last month?" Hutch tilted his head, looking at him carefully.

Starsky cast him a glance but turned to look at the ocean. "I'm not sure if I can pass the exam." For the first time he said the words that had haunted him since Dobey asked them to consider taking the job.

"Starsk, don't be ridiculous. You could pass this exam before you even applied to the Academy."

"How about you?" Starsky frowned and turned to meet his eyes. "Did you think about it?"

"No." Hutch didn't hesitate.

"No?" Starsky raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Hutch was silent for a while, but then he only shrugged. "If this is really our future, I know it will happen. You remember when we talked about it last time?"

Starsky nodded. So Hutch did think about it.

"I wanted to give us time. To make sure the decision wasn't made because of some fear, or pressure, or pride. But... I guess I forgot along the way that there should've come time when we proven we had won," he finished sadly.

Starsky sighed. Their last close call — a few days ago — aroused all the bad memories again. And though their memories were completely different, they hurt alike.

"When do you want to tell Dobey?" Hutch finally asked.

"He won't be pleased," Starsky said bitterly. "First we turned it down and now we want to take the job."

Hutch just shrugged. "I think he is expecting that."

"How do you know?" Starsky asked slightly surprised, shifting so he could face him.

"He told me... two years ago in hospital," explained Hutch.

Starsky blinked with incredulity. "He didn't believe I could make it back?" If somebody had encouraged him to do his best back then it was Dobey. And even now their captain was with them every step they were taking.

"On the contrary, pal. He knew you could do it. But he also knew it wouldn't be forever."

Starsky smiled. Yes, some things changed, but others were timeless. It was a good decision — he could feel it. Sunrises and sunsets came and went, but Hutch would always be there.

He stood up and held a hand out to Hutch to help him up. Hutch accepted it and smiling, they headed home.

 

Chapter 1

Starsky frowned, contemplating one particularly acrobatic position in his paperback edition of the Kama Sutra. Hutch sighed deeply and shook his head, seeing the surprise on his friend's face when he finally figured out how it was supposed to work.

"Just remember, you're not twenty anymore," Hutch shifted on his seat and looked at the entrance of the club that was under their surveillance. He was bored to death, aching from sitting there all night, and all he wanted was a shower, an aspirin and at least eight hours of undisturbed sleep. He knew he wouldn't be missing this part of their job beginning next week when their transfer was supposed to take place.

"Hey, I happen to be a great lover!" claimed Starsky, challenging him with a look.

Oh, boy, Hutch cursed himself mentally. He wasn't in the mood for conversation with this headache. Especially for the 'let's not talk about it' kind of conversation. What was wrong with just sitting there in silence, waiting for some creep to show up? Well, maybe he could avoid it, after all.

"I know," Hutch admitted bitterly, in the hope it would shut Starsky up.

"What? How do you know?" Starsky looked at him, surprised.

Okay, that wasn't the best thing to say. "Well, we did share a girl or two, right?" Hutch asked, touching his temples in vain attempt to lessen the pain.

"You talk with your dates about my skills in bed?" Starsky looked at him, stunned.

Hutch just shrugged. Starsky put a hand on his neck and began massaging the tense muscles. And Hutch suddenly realized where the pain came from. He should have known that the reason was in his back.

"I didn't know you were that curious," Starsky stated with amusement. "You could've asked me, after all. I'm an expert on the theme of myself."

Hutch had to smile, hearing it. "And you really think I asked them?"

Starsky just shrugged, laughing. "How should I know?"

Hutch was relaxing more and more under his fingers. He knew it was a way to avoid the real issue on Starsky's part, but he allowed his friend this moment of security.

"So how come you were talking about me with them in a moment of passion?" Starsky finally broke the silence.

"I wasn't," Hutch sighed and Starsky rested his hand on his shoulder, patting him slightly and leaning back on the seat. "It was Kathy who... well, told me some things."

Starsky smirked. "Oh, Kathy."

Hutch looked at the club entrance where still there was no sign of their suspect. "Yeah, she likes to talk."

"Okay, spill it out." Starsky nudged him with a knee.

"What?"

"What did she say?"

"Starsky!"

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying." Starsky grinned mischievously.

Hutch only sighed, knowing Starsky wouldn't give up so easily. "You better tell me what your real problem is today," he said looking at him seriously.

"What problem?" Starsky frowned.

"Starsk." Hutch didn't say anything else.

Starsky swiped a hand down his face in frustration. "I can't face this jerk right now."

Hutch turned toward him with relief. He'd been trying to make Starsky talk since he got the call in the morning. "You've never been a coward — don't sell me that. I saw you at your high school reunion," he ventured hopefully.

"It was different," Starsky responded sharply.

"Yeah?" Hutch scowled at him.

"Yes." There was a hint of impatience in Starsky's voice. "It's... he was my friend back then. A real friend. And he wasn't at the high school reunion, he had some science conference in Europe, so you didn't meet him."

Hutch held a breath. Starsky never talked about this man and this morning was the first time Hutch ever heard about Gregory Williams.

"What happened?" he asked gently. "You never talked about him before. You never even mentioned him."

"There's nothing to talk about," Starsky tired to cut him.

Hutch regarded him for a while, trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He didn't like to see Starsky suffering and the pained look he saw on his friend's face after Williams called said more than any words.

"He hurt you?" Hutch asked softly.

"Hutch..." Starsky's entire body went ice cold.

Hutch knew when to shut up. Maybe talking about it really caused more pain then relief. They sat in silence; Hutch wasn't looking at Starsky, knowing that he would say something when he was ready. And it didn't take even five minutes.

"I think I hurt him."

It wasn't something Hutch expected to hear.

"You? You think? What did you do?" Hutch wished he could stay focused only on Starsky, but that was probably the reason Starsky hadn't wanted to talk earlier, instead waiting until they were staking out the club.

"I wasn't who he thought I was," he finally admitted in a low voice.

"Meaning what?" Hutch frowned.

"Well," Starsky slowly raised his head and looked at him. "Sometimes people get to know me good enough and I ain't who they wanted me to be. Or who they thought I was."

Hutch held the gaze. He knew the feeling too well. "I think I'll never get to know you as well as I want. You still can surprise me sometimes. What did you want from him that disappointed him?" Hutch also knew how certain relationships tended to end.

Starsky looked at him in silence — they also had such times, but somehow they could overcome the obstacles and only got stronger on the other side of any issue.

"I think it was just an excuse for him," Starsky let out a sigh. "I asked for help with a final test. He was good at explaining. I think he could have been a great teacher if he hadn't wanted to be a scientist. But he said that all I ever wanted from him was his services. And he didn't even tell me that at first. It happened in a middle of a sentence. He was explaining something about quantum physics and then he said I was an idiot and if I thought I could ever understand what it was about I was greater moron than he assumed. If I didn't know better I would've thought he was trying to make me leave. As if it all meant nothing anymore. I knew it wouldn't last forever, but I'd never expected it to be this way," Starsky finished sounding exhausted. And Hutch knew it was probably true. Once Starsky started talking he tended to talk until he was done.

"I think he was an idiot," Hutch stated with conviction.

Starsky looked at him and smiled with gratitude. After twelve years of stakeouts police partners either killed each other or diminished every piece of discomfort in their relationship.

"He told me I was holding him down and that he needed to go on with his life," Starsky added sadly. "And that he wasn't going to babysit me anymore. He was never so eloquent before."

Hutch blinked, surprised. Suddenly so many pieces of puzzle in their relationship found their places. So that's why Starsky trusted him enough to be sure he would tell him all that stuff as well if Hutch ever wanted out of their friendship. And that's why he had never brought it up. Other people had — especially after May '79, but it was never Starsky.

Starsky stared at the club for a long moment and Hutch decided to let him have a break. He hoped that the talk would help Starsky get rid of the emotional turmoil he'd been in since the morning.

The radio chose that moment to start talking, "Sierra Ten to Zebra Three."

Starsky reached for the mike and responded. Hutch listened as Rhade and Cobb informed them that there was still no sight of their suspect on the second location they were staking out and to the nuances in Starsky's voice. There still was something he wanted to tell him, he could feel it, but for some reason he didn't want to. Or just couldn't?

After breaking the connections and checking the time, Starsky looked at him and — of course — saw the question written all over Hutch's face.

"He stole my girlfriend," Starsky said without hesitation.

Hutch's heart skipped a beat but he hadn't turned away. They had already talked about it, and talked, and then talked a little more. They had plenty of time. Though the feeling of betrayal still hurt like hell.

"It's nothing like what you've done." Starsky's fingers encircled his wrist.

"Sounds pretty the same," Hutch let him take some of the pain away, but still couldn't control the bitterness in his voice.

"No. See, Kira was in that from the very beginning. You didn't have to try too much. And I wasn't dating her for months. And... you didn't do it to... hurt her. I know why you did it. And it makes a difference," assured Starsky, letting go of his hand and turning to look at the club.

"Really?" Hutch could see his reflection in the glass of the window.

"He did it to hurt me I guess, but she felt in love with him," Starsky's reflection met his eyes. "And he dumped her after we graduated. Pregnant."

Hutch sighed. Starsky was right. It really wasn't like what he had done. "That's tough," Hutch whispered, wishing he could say something wiser, something that could actually help.

"Yeah." Starsky winced and leaned his head on the car door.

Did you forgive him? That was what Hutch wanted to ask, remembering his own absolution, but it wasn't his business so he asked instead, "You still didn't decide if you wanted to see Williams?"

Starsky turned toward him with, pain in his eyes. "I will meet him."

Hutch nodded. So Starsky hadn't forgiven him yet.

"Thanks." Hutch patted Starsky's knee, knowing he would understand what he was thanking him for. Starsky was really hard to live with when there was something eating him.

"Yeah, I am no saint either," Starsky reached for the Kama Sutra and smiled mischievously.

Hutch laughed, realizing that his headache was mostly gone. And this Williams was clearly an idiot.

*

Starsky hadn't seen him for over ten years and yet he recognized him immediately. Short brown hair, stylish glasses, nicely cut suit and a Rolex. The clothes had changed, but the eyes hadn't.

"Hallo David," Gregory stood up and looked at him hesitantly.

"Hi, Ory," was all Starsky said. He planned to let his former friend lead the conversation. It was him who had insisted on the reunion, after all. But Starsky still felt the pain of the betrayal and he knew it meant he still cared. Starsky knew he shouldn't, but he did.

"You... look good," continued Gregory with something that sounded like fear. As if he was afraid that Starsky would take off before they even sat down. "I saw you on the box two years ago, and then you stayed on the news for a long time."

"Yeah, I was a celebrity for a while," Starsky admitted. They both had been — he and Hutch.

"I'm glad you made it," Gregory said, a strange warmth in his voice. But maybe it wasn't so strange. Starsky remembered it vividly. A long time ago, it was a constant in their conversations. Then it disappeared.

"Yeah, me too."

"I— I have something for you. I know it's a little late, but... well," Gregory reached into his pocket and took out something rectangular. For a moment he just looked at it, but then — still hesitantly — handed it to Starsky. "I remember I burned your previous one."

Starsky took the thing and recognized a Baseball Trading Card in a cover with Yogi Berra's face on it. He looked at Gregory, surprised, but they both remembered how Starsky's previous example ended its life. Starsky had to smile and Gregory just shrugged.

"Better late than never," he said.

"It ain't over till it's over. I remember you lost me two cards."

"Yeah, you never know where you'll find it."

For a while they just looked at each other in silence, Starsky still waiting and Gregory trying to read him. Starsky could sense it and he knew Gregory still could read him.

"I'm glad you agreed to come," Gregory finally said in a low voice.

"You sounded as if it was important." Starsky shrugged. He didn't add: for you.

"Yeah, I see." Gregory sounded disappointed.

Starsky smiled. Served him right. But it still hurt. Starsky inwardly cursed. Why do I still care?

"So, let's eat. I skipped lunch today," complained Starsky, remembering how hectic the day had been. He and Hutch didn't want to leave any loose ends before their transfer. "So, Ory. Where do you work? I didn't see you on the TV recently," Starsky looked at him with genuine curiosity.

"I stayed at the college. The usual, you know? Teaching, looking for answers, stuff like that." Gregory was looking at him shyly.

"Are you married?" Starsky asked. The waiter put a plate with an appetizer in front of them.

"Yes, I am." It was the first time Gregory smiled and the smile reached his eyes. But it lasted only a moment. "At least for the next two weeks or so."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll be divorced by then. Unless I find a way to make her change her mind, and that's not likely to happen." He looked at Starsky, shaking his head, dismissing the topic as too painful. "How about you?"

"Me? Married?" Starsky laughed. "Kind of," he admitted anyway.

"What do you mean?"

And Starsky explained.

*

Hutch shook his head helplessly. It was high time he admitted that he was jealous. Talking to the plants didn't help. Playing guitar didn't help. Even reading didn't have the distracting effect it usually did.

It was ridiculous, childish and completely unnecessary, but he was jealous. If Gregory Williams was a woman, he could have dealt with it easily. There was no woman in the world that could ever come between them again and Hutch knew it. Nobody would be happier for Starsky if Starsky not only found a perfect girl for himself but even married her and had kids. Hutch felt safe enough in their relationship to know it wouldn't change what was most important for them. Even Kira couldn't do it — they both knew it wasn't about her, they had other issues that went deeper and too far into the past. She was just a trigger.

Allison was who counted. After what happened with Kira, Allison was the one who helped them believe they were a pair again.

But to compete with a man, with Starsky's friend, someone who had been there, who lived in the part of his partner's life that would always remain undiscovered and inaccessible for Hutch... That was a little too much to ask from him.

Yes, he was jealous of people who got to know Starsky when he was a child, when he was a teenager. When he was in the army, even. When he was and he didn't need Hutch being there. Hutch had always needed him. Even when they hadn't known each other. Hutch missed the only brother he ever had every day until they finally met.

Hutch also knew they could live without each other. How many times had they had to do it? Facing death or anger or any other kind of separation had taught them it was possible to live without the other part of their soul. But they didn't have to like it.

And Hutch didn't like Starsky out there with someone who had hurt him in the past. Who maybe would hurt him again. Or take him away. Who could take at least a piece of Starsky's heart away.

Hutch went to the window, thinking about taking a walk on the beach. He spotted a sole figure walking along the sand toward Venice Place. Starsky was holding his shoes in his hand and that meant he came all the way from the town. It wasn't cold outside, but the water would make him cold for certain. Hutch went to the kitchen to make hot tea.

"I told you that you didn't have to wait for me, Ma," Starsky greeted him from the door.

"I told you that if you were not in bed at ten, you should come back," riposted Hutch, handing him a cup of tea.

Starsky wrapped his fingers around the cup — the cup had a picture of a horse on it, a gift from Hutch's sister, who loved horses — and took a sip.

"The water's cold," he admitted with a smile.

"Why didn't you take a cab?" Hutch tilted his head, looking at him speculatively. Starsky didn't sound disturbed and it was a good indication. Even though a part of Hutch would've liked the alternative more.

"I had to think," Starsky explained and returned the look with a smile.

"Did it work?"

"I guess so." Starsky let out a sigh.

"What did he want?" Hutch had to ask. The question had haunted him all evening.

"I don't know." Starsky slumped on the sofa and put his feet on the table.

"You feel like talking?" Hutch didn't move. He didn't want to impose. Starsky didn't look upset so he could give him all the time in the world.

"Nah," Starsky shook his head. "But... he asked me to thank you."

Hutch frowned. "For what?" He glanced at him, surprised.

"For saving my life." Starsky smiled. "Maybe next time you would like to join us?"

Hutch felt his heart skipping a beat. "Next time? It's that serious?" He managed to smile.

"'S not," Starsky sighed deeply and leaned his head on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. "Yet."

Hutch stood there for a while just watching. "What's wrong, Starsk?" He came closer and sat on the table in front of him.

"Hutch, there was something... not right. I'd like you to meet him. Maybe you could tell me what it was." Starsky looked helpless.

Hutch blinked. "Starsk, I don't know the man," he protested faintly.

"That's what I mean," Starsky's eyes were rimmed with fatigue. "You are not... biased."

Hutch nodded. If that was what Starsky wanted, that's what he would get. But Hutch was biased. Very biased indeed.

 

Chapter 2

It was one of the dreams that Hutch liked reliving. A dream when everything felt right, when he felt safe and secure. When he didn't want to wake up and would do anything to stay in this realm of warmth and love. He rarely remembered exactly what he was dreaming about — not like the nightmares he so often had to relive, even in reality. The content was not important. Sometimes the feeling lingered in his memory all day and it was what counted.

But this time Hutch knew the source. He opened his eyes and looked at the other side of his bed. His lover wasn't there, but soon... very soon... there would be a warm body next to him again. And he wouldn't have to be asleep to dream that dream.

The phone rang and he reached for the receiver, not wanting it to wake up Starsky. After last night, Hutch didn't think Starsky would be keen to wake up. The meeting with his former friend had been emotionally exhausting and Starsky had few ways to deal with it. They'd played Monopoly for a while and then had a beer or two. Hutch finally couldn't resist and called Duluth, and Starsky listened to the conversation with a knowing smile. Then he just ruffled Hutch's hair and went to bed. When Hutch finished the call, Starsky was soundly sleeping.

"Lo?"

"Hutchinson?" Hutch heard Dobey's voice on the other end of the line. A serious voice.

"Yes, Captain?" Hutch was immediately awake, the last warmth remaining from his dream vanishing.

"Is Starsky awake?"

"Cap, it's—" Hutch looked at the clock. "It's five in the morning. He's not a morning creature if you know what I mean."

"You better wake him up," Dobey wasn't pleased with the answer. "There was a murder at the college."

"College?" Hutch frowned. "Cap, it's not our beat."

There was a short pause. "So your transfer came a little early. You just move and get yourself on the scene!"

"You mean we—?" Hutch sat up and blinked surprised.

This time the pause was longer. "I mean: You. Get. There."

Hutch reached for his robe and got up. "What happened?"

"They found a body in one of the laboratories. They man's name was Gregory Williams and he was one of their teachers."

Hutch felt his knees giving up and slumped down on the bed.

"What?" he asked faintly.

"He was killed with a machete. You put together the rest." Dobey apparently didn't notice the tone of Hutch's voice.

"With a machete? Uh, wait a minute captain." Hutch had to make sure. "What did you say the name was?"

"Williams. Gregory Williams. You know him?"

Hutch shook his head even though Dobey couldn't possibly see him.

"Uh, no. I don't know him. I — uh, heard of him. We'll be there in half an hour," Hutch assured him and broke the connection.

For a moment he just sat there, staring at the wall. He should be happy that finally they'd got off the streets, but he'd never wanted it to happen this way. If this was the same Gregory Williams — and everything in him screamed that it WAS Starsky's former friend — the case would be hell.

He sighed and got up. The sun was just rising and he had to wake up Starsky.

He walked to the other part of the apartment and leaned on the doorframe of his partner's bedroom.

"Who's that?" Starsky mumbled from under the sheets.

Hutch sighed. "Dobey."

"What did he want?" Starsky still didn't move.

"We have a case at the college," Hutch said in a low voice. "There was a murder."

Starsky looked up at him intently. "There's something more, right?" He frowned.

Hutch sighed and came closer. He sat down and looked at his palms. "Starsky, the victim's name was Gregory Williams." He knew there was no point in avoiding the truth.

Starsky blinked and sat up. "What?"

"They said it happened in the laboratory. And that the victim was working there," Hutch explained, not moving.

Starsky took a deep breath. "Ory said he was going back to the lab yesterday," he said, confused.

"Starsk, I— maybe it's not him," was all Hutch could say. What else was there to say?

"And Dobey wants us to take the case? The place isn't in town." Starsky still looked somewhat at a loss.

This time Hutch sighed. "We've just been transferred."

"We have?" Starsky asked, surprised.

"Starsk, we don't have to take the case if..."

"No," Starsky squeezed his hand. "I— we can do it."

"I know we can. But we don't have to," Hutch whispered, wishing it was a nightmare that he would soon wake up from.

But Starsky shook his head. Hutch noticed there was a sudden pain in his partner's eyes — something more than the news about the death of his friend. Something Hutch couldn't understand. And he never liked the feeling.

"If that's Ory, I owe him," Starsky said firmly.

"You owe nobody anything. Not even yourself," Hutch disagreed. Starsky had proved himself often enough during the last two years.

"Yeah, we should better hurry up. Don't want to be late the first day, right?" Starsky stood up and headed for the bathroom.

Hutch looked at him and what he saw was breaking his heart. But he also got up, and headed for the kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast. It wasn't going to be an easy day.

*

They rode in silence. Hutch knew that Starsky would share what was happening in his head and heart when he was ready, and until then he would just have to wait. That was how Starsky dealt with loss and Hutch had accepted it long time ago and learned how to live with it. How to live for Starsky when things like that happened.

They found the scene cleared of people, with only the police pathologist there and a couple of other cops.

Starsky looked at the body, and Hutch didn't need any other answer. It was Williams.

"Who's in charge here?" Hutch asked, putting a hand on Starsky's shoulder for a brief moment. He couldn't do anything more right now, and he didn't want to. Starsky wouldn't want to fall apart right there and that's what would happen if he indulged himself the moment of grief.

"I am, Sergeant Dobson." One of the cops came closer. The other one remained at the door.

"Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky," Hutch introduced them. "What happened?"

"The security guard found him here, when he was doing the rounds. The victim's name was Gregory Williams. Married, thirty eight. No children. He was a teacher here, and he was leading research in this laboratory every morning and some evenings, too."

"Where's the guy who found him?" Hutch looked around.

"We told him to wait in the other lab." Sergeant Dobson pointed at the door on the other side of the place. "There's no room to swing a cat."

"Yeah, I'll talk to him later." Hutch approached the pathologist — a young woman with braces — and also introduced himself.

"He died between eleven and two tonight," she said getting up and nodding at the waiting coroner's assistants out the door. "As far as I can say he was killed with that machete." She gave him the weapon, wrapped in a foil. "Two wounds visible, one nicked the artery, that's why there's so much blood."

"Any signs of self-defense?"

"Yes, he was trying to protect himself. I dare to say there were two against one. Maybe three. Whoever did it, they were well acquainted with that kind of weapon. I also have never seen one like that."

"Thank you." Hutch looked at Starsky who turned around and went toward the other door. Hutch crouched down and inspected the body. He wasn't a doctor, but even he could see it was a quick but painful death. He sighed and followed his partner. Nothing in the laboratory seemed damaged, misplaced or disturbed so it wasn't a robbery of any kind.

Starsky nodded at the security guard when Hutch entered the room.

"I didn't notice him at first," the man said. "He was out of sight, but I knew he was supposed to be working here, so I entered and there he was. All that blood, and... I have never seen something like that. Who would have wanted to do something so horrible? And the weapon. I've never seen a weapon like that."

"When did you find him?" asked Starsky, when the man shivered and looked as if he was going to be sick. He was well over sixty and a little overweight. Most probably he was just trying to get a pension and a safe job. Not so safe apparently.

"At three," the guard answered. "It's my final round, at three thirty my shift is over."

"You didn't notice anything sooner?" Hutch wrote down the times.

"I don't enter all the rooms every hour," the guard shook his head. "I saw the light under the door so I didn't want to disturb him. There was no red light over the door, but you know them, they don't like it when someone comes in when they are trying to figure something out."

"Okay, do you know who was he working with?"

"Tonight he was alone... but he has the new assistant, Andromeda — beautiful name, isn't it?" The guard smiled. "They have their office upstairs, room 304."

"Does she have a last name?"

"Higgins? Higginson? Something like that."

Hutch looked at Starsky who said, "I'll go to the Dean's office to get his schedules."

Hutch nodded — though he didn't want to leave him alone right now, he knew Starsky needed a moment just for himself. Starsky smiled briefly and went out.

"Who else?"

"Professor Sovak and the other boy. And someone from the other college. I don't know the professors there. One was the famous guy from the TV."

Hutch raised his eyebrows. He just loved the descriptions some witnesses gave. Fortunately, he knew how to translate it into more understandable terms.

"Anybody else?"

The guard frowned for a while. "No, I don't think so. He wasn't very sociable person."

"Do you know what he was doing here last night?"

"No, but you can find out what research he was doing downstairs where they dispense the tools and samples."

"Okay, thank you, sir. We will contact you if we need anything clarified. One of the cops outside will take you to the station to write your witness statement."

"Yeah, they told me that already." The man smiled sadly and left the room. Hutch went down to the desk station and saw Starsky already waiting for him.

"They had it ready," Starsky explained showing him a sheet with Williams' schedule.

"Yeah? Great." Hutch came closer and looked him in the eyes, and Starsky allowed him to see what he felt.

"You feel up to this?" Hutch asked, just in case.

"I know you have my back. Let's go."

*

"Andromeda Higgs?" Hutch read the name from his notebook. The young girl was looking at them, frowning a little. She was rather short and dark-haired, and if he hadn't known better he would have thought she was fifteen and not twenty five as the dean's office had told them.

"You are here because of the accident, right?" she asked inviting them into the laboratory and sitting on the table. She nodded toward one of the chairs in the room so Hutch sat down, but Starsky slowly walked around the place — sometimes picking up an item or a paper, but mostly looking as if he was fascinated by the computers in this laboratory.

"Yes, that's why we are here, Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson." Hutch introduced them and waited until she checked his badge. She didn't hurry in returning it to him after she was satisfied with the inspection.

"It's beautiful," she said with some kind of admiration.

Hutch, caught off guard, just blinked. "Ah, thank you," he said involuntary.

"How can I help you?" she inquired calmly. "Hadn't you talked to the security guards already? I wasn't there last week when the accident with the samples happened. My sister was getting married and I was out of town."

"Yes, Miss Higgs, we did talk..." Hutch began, but she cut in.

"Just Roma," she said.

"What?" He raised his eyebrow.

"Call me Roma, nobody calls me Miss Higgs, and Andromeda is... pretentious, don't you think?" She smiled.

"Okay, Roma," Starsky stopped walking around and leaned one hip on the table, crossing his arms. "We aren't here to talk about last week. What we want to know is who you think would want to hurt or kill Doctor Williams."

Hutch noticed she looked surprised. And she still didn't give him back his badge — she was caressing the surface with her fingers absently.

"Ory? So you are here because of what happened to him tonight?" she said. "I don't think anyone would want to kill him. Not now at least. A few years ago, maybe." She smiled a little. "But now? No."

"What do you mean a few years ago?" Starsky leaned over the table and looked at her intensely.

The girl just shrugged and adjusted her glasses. "Well, Ory wasn't easy to live with. He was a great scientist but he didn't like having company. He was good on his own. Well, except for his wife. After she told him she wanted to divorce him something happened and he kind of changed."

Hutch looked at Starsky and he just nodded. "Who was he working with, apart from you?" Hutch asked.

"Who?" Andromeda sighed sadly. "Well, he wasn't working with anyone. Here they can work on solo projects, you know? And he was playing with one equation alone for years now."

"Equation?" Hutch frowned.

"Yeah, the probability theory," she explained. "I'm not familiar with the contents of his project, because he didn't share it even with me, but some companies were interested in buying the results after he was done. And as far as I know he was really close to finding the final formula." Hutch noticed she sounded disappointed.

She looked at her hands and noticed what she was still holding. Blushing she handed the badge to Hutch, who put it back into his pocket.

"Do you know what companies?" asked Starsky.

"No, I'm sorry." She shook her head. "But I noticed that he had some visitors two or three weeks ago. And he was... well, disturbed after they left. But not more than usual. He was very sensitive when it came to his work. He was working on that equation since high school and now, when he was so close he didn't want anyone to steal his work. I guess every scientist is a little paranoid, don't you think?" She smiled brightly.

"I don't know many of them," admitted Starsky and Hutch also had to smile. "So you don't think somebody would want to kill him?"

Again she shook her head. "Not really. It's really shocking; especially after the accident we had here two weeks ago."

"What accident?" Starsky slid off the table and sat in the other chair, across from her.

"Well, somehow the radioactive samples got mixed and a couple of students ended up in the hospital. They weren't exposed for too long to the radiation but Ory could've been killed then, because he was scheduled to work on those samples."

"Hold on a minute," Hutch broke in. "You said he was working on some formula, did it also involve lab research?"

Roma looked at him patiently. "Yes, it did Detective Hutchinson. You see, in his work he depended on laws of nature that are related to probability and variations. And the nuclear physics and radioactivity are the best examples. So he was scheduled for that morning but his divorce just had reached the final stage and he had to go to the court. So he changed the reservation for the lab from morning to evening. He was very lucky, considering he used the samples for completely different reasons and in a slightly different way than the students. And he would've been exposed for a lot longer than they were. He could've died in a really horrible way."

Hutch shivered. Gregory Williams had died in a horrible way.

"How did it happen?" asked Starsky, with concern.

"They still don't know," she admitted in a low voice. "Most probably someone just misplaced the test bars. It doesn't happen often, but nobody is perfect." She shrugged.

Hutch regarded her for a while. "You don't seem particularly affected by his death."

She held his gaze. "I didn't know him very well, detective" she said earnestly. "I worked with him only for a couple of months. He couldn't keep an assistant for a longer period of time. People usually want to benefit from the work here and he was a loner. All I had to do was help him with the computer, but he was getting better with this stuff so I guess in a few months he wouldn't even have needed me anymore."

"But you knew him longer then you worked for him?" Hutch had to make sure.

"Yes, I've worked here for eight years now."

Hutch looked at Starsky and his partner only shook his head. They were finished here, so they stood up.

"Thank you, Roma," Hutch handed her a card with their phone numbers. "If you happen to remember something that could help us, call anytime, okay?"

She nodded and saw them to the door.

"What do you have your degree in?" Starsky asked when they were outside.

"I don't have a degree. I'm a technician," Roma smiled at them and then closed the door.

"Well," Hutch muttered. "It doesn't tell us much."

They took the stairs.

"Oh, I don't know," Starsky disagreed. "I remember he was always writing some strange formulas all over his books. And he had this really weird way of taking notes. He didn't use words, but instead he drew geometrical figures. And somehow he could remember what was said when he was drawing a certain part of the doodle. It was like a code that only he knew the key for."

"Always kept secrets?" Hutch raised an eyebrow. If that was true, they would never know if he finished the work.

"No, it's not that. He just couldn't learn in a different way. I memorize what I hear, he memorized what he doodled."

"So if he left some notes, nobody will be able to profit from them?" Hutch asked exasperated.

"I guess so. Unless he left some normal notes. But I doubt it."

They stopped at the entrance and Hutch took out his shades. "Okay, who's next?"

"The people who will have to try to continue his work?" suggested Starsky.

That was an idea. The other laboratory was in a neighboring building.

"Poor guys. But if they want to get the money they'll have to try."

"Let's see."

After talking to the clerk in the laboratory buildings they found the room easily. They weren't allowed in because some first year students were having classes there but the professor came out to meet them. He was tall and overweight, with white hair and glasses. In wrinkled suit and worn shoes he looked exactly how Hutch remembered his professors in college.

"Professor Savak?" Hutch read the name of the notebook again. He hoped he had pronounced it correctly.

"It's Sovak. How can I help you, gentlemen?" The man asked in perfect English, with noticeable foreign accent.

"We are Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson," Hutch shook his hand. "And we're investigating the death of Doctor Williams. You heard about it, right?"

"Yes, we all heard about it, but the board decided that we should go on with our classes." Sovak looked at them in concern. "I guess you are going to ask me what I was doing when it happened."

"Well, actually yes. But may we talk in private?" Hutch suggested reasonably.

"A moment please." Sovak turned to the audience that was looking at them through the door. "It looks like I'm going to have to indulge the officers here," he spoke to the students. "Don't even dare to think that if I'm arrested your homework is canceled." He shook a warning finger, which caused loud laugher among the students. "Oederkirk, the bridge is yours."

One of the students sitting in the first row stood up and nervously came to the middle of the laboratory and Hutch noticed that Starsky flinched, hearing the name.

"Thank you, professor," Oederkirk said in a shaking voice.

Sovak closed the door and nodded toward the other side of the corridor.

"Here's my office, if you follow me there."

Hutch exchanged a look with Starsky, who just shrugged, dismissing his reaction. Hutch didn't want to push. Not here and not now.

"So? What can I do for you?" Sovak repeated his previous question when they sat down at a small table, overflowing with books and scripts.

"How well did you know Doctor Williams?"

"Too well and not well enough," admitted Sovak. "He was working on the quantum constant, so I was his leading supervisor but he was doing all the work by himself. He was turning in some reports but as you probably know with such projects the finished product is the most important. And of course he was doing his normal work here as well."

"Such as?"

"Leading classes, marking tests, helping the students. You know, what they pay us for." He smiled sadly. "We do the research for fun. The rest is for money."

Hutch took out his notebook to check the times and after he put it into his pocket again, he asked, "When was the last time you saw him?"

Sovak took a moment before he answered.

"Last week I guess. My assistant, you saw him — Oederkirk — was working with Williams on a daily basis. I didn't. Unfortunately, I guess."

"Why's that?" inquired Starsky. Only Hutch could hear the strange sound in his partner's voice.

"I should say it was because knowing his style it will be really hard to determine how far he was with his work." Sovak smiled with genuine regret. "He was more paranoid than Leonardo da Vinci."

Hutch frowned. "Don't you guys have some rules about how you work? At least considering how to record the process, or stages of your work? Just in case?" he asked, feeling almost annoyed.

"Rules?" Sovak leaned on the chair. "It's quantum physics, detective, there are no rules. It's all about probability."

"But you said he was working on a quantum constant." Hutch wasn't good at this field of science. "Isn't it a contradiction?"

"This is why he was so excited about it," Sovak explained fervently. "He thought he had found a formula which with a particular constant could let us not only count the probability of some event — because it's quite easy — but also would let us know how to make things happen, to make things sure. If you had the right starting conditions you could formulate the future at will."

"That's not possible," Starsky said firmly.

But the professor shook his head. "Well, I would rather say not probable, but the results he was gaining were promising. His constant was close enough, but no cigar if you know what I mean. In laboratory conditions the gambling games were in ninety percent predictable. But ninety percent is not enough for the Nobel Prize."

Hutch glanced at Starsky, who looked a little taken aback.

"Did you see the formula?" he asked instead.

"No, he never shared it," Sovak negated.

"Why?" Starsky demanded, astounded.

"So he could lose the chance to be the first? The Nobel Prize, maybe? Now, there are not many of us who would give up something like that without a fight, you know?"

"Is it worth killing for?" Hutch looked at him intently.

"If you could form the future at your will, if you could make sure you were healthy, safe, and rich and loved even, wouldn't you want to know how?" Sovak held the gaze, unblinking.

Hutch had to look away. "Can you think of someone who would like to know bad enough?"

"The military? They were trying to make him work for them, but he didn't want to. He was a pacifist. Lost cause, actually. I think he had some guests from the CIA recently also. But it's just what Oederkirk said, so you should talk to him about it, and not me. I'll send him here when we are done, if you wish," he offered shrugging.

"We will wish," confirmed Starsky. "Who else?"

"I should say even me, but... as his supervising professor I would have profited by his results anyway, so there was no need to kill him at all."

"Unless you have the results already." This time it was Starsky who didn't want to look away.

"That is a possibility," Sovak admitted. "But it's unlikely."

"So, where were you yesterday between ten and midnight?"

Sovak sighed with some strange kind of resignation. "I was home."

"Alone?"

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No. But I would rather not reveal the name of the person I was with. Nonetheless if it becomes necessary I'm sure the person will vouch for me."

Hutch glanced at Starsky, but he wasn't looking at him. "For now it will not be necessarily, but don't leave the city, please," Hutch added and stood up.

"Yes, I get it," Sovak also stood up and they shook hands. "I'll go and send Oederkirk here if you still want to talk to him."

"Yes, we still do." Hutch nodded.

"Was he getting any threats?" Starsky asked when Sovak opened the door.

"Not that I know about it."

"Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome." Sovak gave them a goodbye-nod and left the office.

In less than two minutes the nervous-looking student assistant entered the room.

"Uhm, hello." He stopped at the door and asked hesitantly, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes. Please sit down." Hutch nodded toward the chair." We are investigating the death of Doctor Gregory Williams. What's your name?"

"Uh, Bill, Bill Oederkirk." The assistant nervously rubbed his hands.

"You worked with Doctor Williams?"

For a moment it looked as if Oederkirk wanted to deny it, but he thought better of it.

"Yes, kind of. I was... well, he didn't work with anyone actually. He was self-sufficient. I was helping Professor Sovak," he explained quickly.

"Did Williams tell you about his results?" Hutch looked at Starsky briefly but his partner just sat on the desk, staring intently at his hands.

"Well, we didn't talk that much. He just handed me the reports to turn in to Professor Sovak and sometimes I typed his notes. The ones for the lectures." Oederkirk looked at Hutch. "He was giving lectures, you know? Twice a week. The research notes were private."

"You were well familiar with his schedule?" asked Starsky, for the first time interrupting the interview.

"Sure I was," Oederkirk agreed hurriedly. "I have to be, you know? That way I know where to find them anytime the professor wants something from them."

"How long did you know Doctor Williams?" Hutch leaned toward him and noticed that his hands were still shaking.

"One and a half year. Since I moved here," he added, smiling briefly, but Hutch had a feeling it was a fake smile.

"And you worked for him all this time?"

"No, I work for Professor Sovak. But they had this project going on long before I came here, so it's been about the same time."

"Did he get any threats?" Hutch leaned forward.

Oederkirk drew back slightly and shook his head. "No. But he was in the middle of his divorce so I think you should talk to his wife. He had a high insurance."

Starsky frowned, but asked evenly, "You think his ex-wife would want to kill him for the money?"

Oederkirk looked at him with disgust. "They are still married," he said through gritted teeth. "She will get it all."

Hutch looked at Starsky briefly. There was something they didn't understand, apparently. But it was their job to find out. "Okay, who else?"

"The CIA?" Oederkirk answered without hesitation.

"Really?" Hutch raised his brows.

"Yes, they tried to make him work for them," Oederkirk explained with conviction.

"How about the military?" suggested Starsky.

"No, I don't think so." The assistant shook his head.

Hutch looked at Starsky who just shrugged. Hutch didn't have more questions either, so they let the man go. They both noticed that his hands were still shaking when he closed the door.

Hutch didn't rush Starsky, who had moved to one of the chairs and was staring unseeingly at the wall.

"Hutch?" He heard his voice after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" Hutch sat down on the armrest of the chair. Starsky didn't move, but he kept talking.

"Can you imagine not having someone to share your day with? To work alone and to keep it secret all the time?"

Hutch shivered. That wasn't something he would like to imagine. Never. But to live it? He didn't say anything — it wasn't expected. He just put a hand on Starsky's arm.

"He didn't trust anyone," Starsky continued. "I could see it yesterday. Was it just yesterday?"

Hutch sighed. "Yeah, it was yesterday."

Starsky leaned back and closed his eyes. "It's no fun when you can't share your joy," he whispered, pain in his voice.

"Or fear," Hutch added in a low voice.

Starsky opened his eyes but didn't look at Hutch. "If you blow it this time, you will answer to me." His voice faltered for a moment.

Hutch squeezed his arm harder. "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson."

Starsky nodded once and stood up, disconnecting the touch. "Come on, we have to talk to his wife," he said, completely composed now. "I'm curious what she's like. Ory was talking about her all evening."

Hutch followed him with a lighter heart. He was really lucky to have two people to share his joy and fear with.

*

It was lunch time already, but they decided to interview the widow first. Starsky wasn't pleased about postponing the lunch but he didn't argue. Much.

The apartment was situated on the second floor of a nice looking tenement. The owner of the place was a certain Valerie Cain and it looked as if Darla Williams had lived there since she moved out of her previous residence. At least that's what the dates on her records showed.

Starsky knocked at the door and after a moment they heard a female voice, "Who's that?"

"Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky, LAPD. We want to speak to Darla Williams," he said taking out his badge.

The door opened and they saw a woman looking at them, frowning with suspicion. She still didn't remove the chain so Starsky handed her his badge.

She inspected it thoroughly and only then closed the door. A moment later she opened it again, this time without the chain blocking the way.

"You are here because of Ory?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

"That's correct, may we come in?" Starsky noticed she was tall, blond, in her middle thirties. And however calm she wanted to appear, she was shaken deeply.

"Yes, please," she invited them inside. "Valerie, these are Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky," she said as she led them into the living room. There was another woman sitting on the couch and crying. "They are investigating Ory's death. This is Valerie Cain. She's my friend."

The other woman just nodded and wiped her nose.

Starsky looked at the blond woman and asked, "You are Darla Williams?"

"Yes, that's me." She sat next to Valerie and hugged her tightly.

"Please accept our condolences," Starsky said hoarsely.

"Thank you." She nodded briefly.

"Uh, may we talk in private?" suggested Hutch.

"We may talk here, detective." Darla looked at him hard. "We have no secrets."

"Okay." Starsky sat down in one of the armchairs and Hutch opted to stand by the door. "Who told you about your husband's death?"

She hesitated only fractionally. "They called from the Dean's office."

It wasn't true — Starsky could feel it; he exchanged a look with Hutch.

"Do I know you, detective?" Darla asked before they could continue.

Starsky frowned. "I don't think so." He shook his head.

"But your name is Starsky, right? David?"

"Yes," Starsky nodded.

"You were Ory's friend back in high school?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," he confirmed again. Maybe it could be a little easier to interview her that way.

"I feel like I know you very well, even though we never met." She smiled a sad smile.

"You do?" asked Starsky, a little taken aback. "How come?"

Darla rubbed Valerie's back absently and answered, "In the last few months of our marriage I've heard about you every day."

Starsky looked at Hutch, even more surprised. But they both knew that sometimes for people who just lost someone close, it was easier to talk about things that somehow were not directly related to what hurt the most. Instead they tended to talk about other things, and sometimes the detectives could find answers even there.

"Really?" Starsky encouraged her.

"Yes, after you were shot something happened to him. He changed," she whispered. "He... followed the case in the press, and that really showed that something was going on with him. He never even watched TV before, even though he had done some episodes for the educational TV station. He was so engrossed in the work. The equation. He was focused on that even before we met. It was his life, his purpose." It wasn't said bitterly. Everybody could hear the love there.

"Why did you want to divorce him then?" Starsky had to ask. If the accusation Oederkirk made was true, they had to check that possibility and in their experience it was more often than not the correct one. Even though it was unlikely she killed him with that weapon, she could have hired someone to do it after all.

Valerie stiffed a little but Darla just continued soothing. "We had other issues," she explained dismissively.

Valerie took her hand and squeezed a little. "And he had this big fight with the other guy at the college." Valerie raised her head — her eyes red from crying.

"Other one?" Hutch asked, joining the interview for the first time.

"Yes," Darla nodded. "Odwyn or Orkirk? Ory said they both wanted to count it, or whatever they were doing with that equation. And they were really close to making it. I mean both of them. I guess that Ory had solved this riddle just before you were shot. He didn't publish it for some reason. I don't know why. All he ever wanted was the Nobel Prize and then, when he had it done, he didn't want to share it with the rest of the academic world," she finished, a little confused.

"Are you sure he finished his work?" Starsky leaned closer.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"Why are you so sure?" Hutch wanted to know.

Darla looked at Valerie and after a moment she shrugged.

"He... kind of told me that," she admitted.

"Kind of?"

"Well, we had a fight and when I told him I wanted a divorce he... mentioned that I... I should wait until he made some money on his discovery." This time she did laugh bitterly.

"But he never did?" Hutch asked.

"No," she sighed. "The next day he saw the news about you and... everything changed. But I moved out a few months later and I don't know what he was doing at work anymore."

"Isn't it possible that your divorce had something to do with that? With the delay? Maybe he wanted to wait to keep the profit?" Starsky looked at them suspiciously.

"No," Valerie interrupted. "It's not that. I knew him and he was upset because of the divorce but nothing like that. Nothing that could change him so much. I think it was more about your partner."

"Hutch?" asked Starsky.

"Me?" Hutch said at the same time.

"Oh, yes," Darla added quickly. "He, I mean Ory — he was... I don't know, I think he hired a detective or somebody like that. I heard him once talking on the phone with some guy and they were talking about someone called Hutchinson. Karl? Kerry? Ken! Kenneth. Is your name Kenneth?"

Hutch nodded and she continued. "So I think it was you. Ory wanted to know some details about you and your work together."

Starsky froze for a moment. "Do you know who this man was?" he asked in a low voice.

Darla looked at him apologetically. "No, he didn't say any name."

"When did it happen?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember. Last year I guess. It wasn't right after you were shot. A couple of months later maybe?" She looked at Valerie. "When did I move in here?"

Valerie answered immediately. "December the 14th."

"Oh, yeah," Darla smiled sadly. "Just before Christmas. So it was last November or late October."

"Who do you think wanted to kill him?" Hutch asked, after a while of silence. Darla bit her lip and Valerie squeezed her hand. The gesture wasn't missed by Starsky but he didn't say anything.

"I don't know who would want to kill him," she said blankly.

"When did you last see him?" inquired Hutch.

"Two week ago, in court."

"Where were you last night?"

"I was working." She took a deep breath and collected herself.

"At night? What are you doing for living?"

"We are interpreters and negotiators," Darla explained. Valerie was squeezing her hand so hard that she actually winced. "We work for the Government and right now we are leading the Ruganda negotiations that were turned down by ONZ last year. It's in its final stage and sometimes we have to work extra hours. Yesterday we were working almost all night. You can check at our office, there were dozens of witnesses who can confirm our presence there." The explanation was made in a calm voice but there was something wrong, something that rubbed Starsky from the moment he entered the room.

"May I know why you were crying so hard?" he asked Valerie bluntly. "Did you know Ory that well?"

Darla answered the question. "She just broke up with her boyfriend. She's taking it really bad, because they were together four years, engaged since last Christmas. It has no-nothing to do with my husband."

"I see," Starsky nodded. He believed her.

"Do you have Gregory's notes or other things that can help us?" asked Hutch this time.

"No," she shook her head. "If there is something, it's all at home... I mean in our house. His house," she blinked. "M-my house." She hesitated, then abruptly stood up and left the room. Starsky noticed tears on her cheeks before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

"She is not that strong as she looks." Valerie didn't follow her. "She didn't want to fall apart because of me."

"Okay, thank you," Starsky stood up as well. "We will contact you if we have more questions."

"I understand," Valerie saw them to the door. "I'm sorry we couldn't help you."

"Good bye."

They left the apartment and didn't talk until they sat in the Torino.

"Who is the 'other guy'?" asked Hutch.

"Who knows?" Starsky shrugged. "Nobody mentioned a competition. It sounds too impossible for many serious scientists to try it. Or waste time on it, I should say."

"So where to now?"

"Lunch?"

Hutch shook his head exasperated. "I should have expected that answer," he laughed a little. "So lunch it is. And maybe they'll have the autopsy results ready after we are back."

Starsky started the engine. "Why do you think the other one was crying? Darla should be the one, don't you think?"

"And who told her that Ory is dead?" Hutch added his question. "And why she was trying to persuade us it was Dean's office?"

"I will never understand women."

After a moment of riding in silence Hutch rested his hand on the back of Starsky's seat.

"So, how do you like our first case out of the streets?" he asked softly.

"Out of the streets doesn't mean less dirty," Starsky looked at him briefly.

Hutch smiled sadly. They both knew it was true. Starsky also knew it wasn't easy for Hutch, so he gently brushed his cheek against Hutch's forearm. "Safer," he said with a faint optimism in his voice.

"Let's hope," Hutch didn't move and they didn't talk until they stopped at The Pits.

 

Chapter 3

"You are Detective Starsky?"

Starsky blinked, still not fully awake. "Yeah," he confirmed. "And you?" He looked closer and realized the man was somehow familiar. Where did he meet him?

"My name is Andrew Truman, maybe you know me from TV," his visitor introduced himself. But it wasn't the 'hey, I'm a celebrity, you should start screaming in awe now' introduction. It was rather the 'if you know me, it will be easier to explain' kind. Starsky frowned and looked at him more closely.

"Oh, yeah. You are the guy hosting one of the educational programs about political science?" He opened the door wider. He was still wearing only his pajama bottoms, but what did this guy expect coming there at five in the morning? If they weren't on the case Starsky would be sleeping until eight at least, but first Hutch tried to wake him up singing in the shower and now they had a visitor. Starsky was not pleased.

"Yes, that's me," Truman confirmed. "I hoped you would recognize me."

"Well, I don't watch it," Starsky admitted. "But my partner does. It's pretty rough right now in Ruganda."

"Yes, it unfortunately is," Truman sighed. "But the negotiations should be finished this week. Mark Stone is good in what he's doing."

"How can I help you?" Starsky was sure he hadn't come there to discuss the current political situation in West Africa."

"May I come in?"

"Uh, yes, sure." Starsky let him in.

"Starsk, who are you..?" Hutch left the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist and with other one drying his hair. He stopped a little surprised, but only tilted his head and said, "Oh, good morning." He looked at Starsky reproachfully. "You didn't say we were expecting someone."

Starsky smiled slightly, amused and introduced them, "Hutch, this is, uh, Andrew Truman. Mr. Truman, my partner Ken Hutchinson."

"International Politics Today?" Hutch asked, shaking his hand.

Truman nodded, "And you are the other detective who interviewed Mirek?"

"Who?" Starsky looked at him, confused.

"Mirek Sovak. At the college."

"Ah, yes, I am. And you are here because?"

"I need to talk to you about the night Gregory Williams was killed."

"May it wait until I — uh — get dressed?" Hutch asked before Truman could say anything else.

Truman nodded and Starsky offered, "I'll make us some coffee. Will you join us, Mr. Truman?"

Truman looked after Hutch but accepted the invitation. "Yes, I guess I will. And it's Andrew."

Starsky reached for a shirt and put it on. He didn't mind the scars anymore because they were hardly visible, but he didn't know this Truman, so decided to make himself decent.

He made the coffee strong, even though after all the surgeries his stomach wasn't working as well as it had been before the shooting. He just drank one cup a day and somehow it worked as the countless cups before. Hutch had stopped drinking it at all. Except that sometimes he stole Starsky's coffee.

"You want some sugar?" Starsky asked their guest as he sweetened his own coffee.

"No, thank you." Truman shook his head as Hutch came into the kitchen and sat down across the table.

"So you are here because you know something that can help us with the investigation?"

Truman nodded quickly. "Yes, I do. You shouldn't waste your time suspecting Mirek. It wasn't him. You know, maybe Ory was a jerk, but he didn't deserve to die like that. Nobody does. And when you take Mirek off the list, you will find the real killer sooner."

Starsky leaned his elbows on the table. "We can't eliminate him until he gives us a solid alibi. And he refused to do it. You also must admit he had a motive."

"Yeah, he had," Truman nodded. "But he also has an alibi."

Hutch looked at him speculatively. "It was you, right?" he asked. "He was with you that night?"

Truman looked at his eyes. "Yeah. He was with me."

"Great," Starsky sighed with frustration. So much for spending the previous evening checking out Sovak's background. Hutch just smiled at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. The day wasn't completely wasted, considering with whom he and Starsky spent it — the secretary at the Dean's office was easy to look at — but they could have followed some other lead.

"Did you know Ory?" Starsky asked instead. He noticed how Truman used the name and it wasn't as if Ory was a stranger to him.

"Yes, I knew him. We did a couple of episodes of my show together. Politics and economy is about statistics and so is quantum physics. He had a few hours of lectures. He would be a great teacher. The producer even offered him a job, but Ory refused. He said he had some unfinished business. But I could tell he wanted to try it."

"Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?" asked Hutch and reached for Starsky's cup of coffee.

"The only person I can think of is Oederkirk. But only because he doesn't like him. And ever since the boy was there Ory was behaving differently. I don't think it's a reason to suspect him, but there was something odd in their relationship. There was something more going on than what was on professional level."

Starsky frowned. He also had a bad feeling about Bill Oederkirk. And it was something more than the coincidence of the last name.

"We will check on him later," he suggested. But he wanted to know something more. Not only because of the investigation. After the evening he spent with Ory, he had some expectations and questions that only people who knew him could answer.

But before he could ask any of them, Truman inquired, "You and Ory were friends, right?"

"Yes, how do you know?" Starsky frowned.

"He mentioned you once or twice in his professor thesis," Truman smiled a little.

"What?" That was the last thing he expected to hear. Remembering the way they parted after graduation, Starsky could never think that Ory would do something like that. And why?

"It wasn't ready yet, because he needed to finish the work," Truman explained. "But he had it almost written."

"And you have read it?" asked Hutch.

"Yes. I have a copy of his work," Truman nodded.

"I thought he was a loner in his work," Starsky frowned.

"Well, he was," Truman looked into his cup of coffee and Starsky realized that Hutch had drunk almost all of his cup. He snagged it from him before it was too late.

"Until the last year or so," continued their guest. "And then something happened. He asked me if he could do some episodes and I talked to my producer and she agreed. I think he was going to switch into teaching and this way he could try how it worked. He was great at classes but it was only a couple of hours every week that he was doing for the college. He wanted to start doing it for a living. The divorce wasn't easy for him," he whispered and added, "it was quite unexpected.

"Unexpected?" Starsky raised his eyebrows.

"You see, they had some problems, but it wasn't serious enough to break up. Not after ten years of marriage."

"How do you know that much about him?" asked Hutch suspiciously.

Truman sighed, as if he was expecting that question. "Well, one day — it was last year I think — I went to his laboratory, he'd just fired his latest assistant and he was there alone, and... let's say he wasn't particularly sober. It was just ten in the morning and I didn't want him to lose his job so I drove him home and called him in sick. His wife wasn't there, she was in some conference or leading negotiations I think. Yes, it was the beginning of the Ruganda negotiation. Now I remember, because he said she would be gone for a couple of weeks and that she was in Africa. I didn't want to leave him there alone, because he was really plastered and he started to talk about how miserable his life was; how he was unhappy, he numbered all the mistakes of the past and stuff like that. You know what I mean?" He looked at them, frowning.

"Yes, I suppose we do," answered Starsky.

"So when he'd finally fallen asleep I left him there and went back to work. Next day he remembered more than I thought he would and he wanted to apologize. It really could cost him his work if somebody found him there like that. We started talking and we had a beer later and somehow he... well, opened up. It was a really hard time for him and I guess he needed someone to talk to."

"Yeah, he was like that," Starsky nodded. He remembered that vividly. He looked at Hutch, as if he wanted to make sure there was someone who he could talk to anytime he wanted too.

"Did you know how far along he was with the formula?" Starsky asked after a moment.

Truman just shrugged. "He had it finished. Years ago, I guess. But he had to test it yet. He was looking for the right person," he added, with some kind of reflection.

"Person?"

"Yes, the formula was supposed to work only for certain people. It was related to some quantum constant or something. Making decisions and choosing the right version of the future. I'm not good in physics, you know? I didn't pay attention at school and when he was talking about it, I kind of... switched him off. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, me too," Starsky smiled. Truman really knew Ory well, he decided.

"Did he mention that he had other job offers?" Hutch looked at them as if he was feeling excluded and somehow he was after all — Starsky had to admit it. He reached and wrapped his fingers around his wrist for a brief moment. Hutch got the message because he relaxed a bit.

"Well, we get many job offers," Truman answered dismissively.

"CIA?" Starsky frowned.

"You know how it is. He wasn't interested. All he was interested in was saving his marriage," Truman sighed. "It wasn't working though. No matter what he did she didn't want to listen. As if she was... I don't know, trying to make him leave? One day she just got her things and moved out. No warnings, no nothing. I was there." He looked at them helplessly. "I'm sorry I woke you up, but I needed to talk to you and I didn't want to come to the station. I will have to face Mirek today and he's not going to like that I came here, either."

"No problem. You didn't wake me up. Hutch took care of that duty," Starsky shot his partner a reproachful glance.

"Yeah, I noticed," Truman smiled a little.

"We will take into consideration what you told us." Starsky led him to the door.

"Will you be willing to say it again in court if needed?" asked Hutch as Truman went out the door.

"Yeah, I will," their guest nodded. "I don't want Mirek to get into trouble only because he has terrible taste in lovers." He headed down the stairs. He was almost at the bottom when Starsky called after him.

"Andrew!"

"Yes?" He turned around and looked at him surprised.

"Thank you."

Truman just nodded and left.

"So?" Hutch asked when Starsky closed the door.

"So I think we should check on Oederkirk."

"Yes, maybe you were right when you had a feeling he was a bad news. I was watching you when we were interviewing him."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Starsky looked at the clock. It was half past five. They would still be on time at the station. Almost.

"Is there something else?" Hutch stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Starsky hesitated. "I don't know, Hutch. Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. I don't want to..." Starksy tried to dismiss his horrible suspicion.

"Starsky," Hutch's voice was soft and calm.

"Cassie's last name was Oederkirk," Starsky said, giving up. He could tell Hutch.

"Cassie? Who is Cassie?" His friend blinked confused.

"My ex-girlfriend. The one I told you about."

Hutch just looked at him for a while in silence. Starsky thought he was going to at least yell at him, but Hutch only sighed. "You think they are relatives?"

"I don't know what I think anymore. There is something about this case that doesn't feel right."

"Nothing about a murder does feel right."

"We can get Oederkirk's records," Starsky suggested. Yesterday they were investigating Sovak, today they could check his assistant.

"Yeah, we can," Hutch headed for the kitchen. "I'll make us breakfast."

Starsky went to take a shower, still thinking of what Truman had told them.

*

Hutch sighed after he read Oederkirk's records.

"He's not really entitled to this job. He's not even average student. You'd think there'd be more suitable people for that job, don't you think?" he asked Starsky, who was looking over Hutch's shoulder in the college archive, where they planned to stay until they found something to help them understand what happened.

"Protection?" his partner asked with a knowing smile.

"Maybe? We can ask Sobak how he got the job," Starsky suggested.

"Sovak," Hutch corrected him mechanically. "And that's an idea."

"You think he's in his office?"

"Let's check," Hutch headed toward the door, but Starsky grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait, why do you think he wanted to kill Ory?" They would need something solid before they could confront the assistant.

Hutch looked at him in surprise, then remembered something that Andromeda Higgs had said.

"Wait, the accident! The previous one!"

Starsky didn't need explanation. "Did Oederkirk have access to the laboratory?"

Hutch checked the list they got earlier. "Yes, he did."

"He could've changed the bars easily, don't you think? He knows the schedules of the people who work here."

"And the motive?"

"Now we know he's Cassie's son." Starsky pointed at the name Oederkirk gave the college on his registration form. "And the birth date fits. He could be Ory's son."

"But it doesn't explain why he wanted to kill him."

"Vengeance? Money? Accident?"

"Accident? Starsky." Hutch just shook his head.

"It could've been an accident two weeks ago."

"But not two days ago."

"So, let's go and ask him."

They knew the truth the moment they entered the laboratory a few minutes later. Oederkirk's reaction confirmed every suspicion they had. "W-what do you want?" he asked, trying to hide how scared he was.

"We want to know why you killed Doctor Williams." Hutch knew it was his job to do the talking, because if they had the right guy, Starsky would have other things on his mind. They'd been through similar situations in the past but it was never easy. If Hutch could help his partner he was going to do his best.

"I didn't kill him, man!" he exclaimed taking a few steps back. "I knew the..." he stopped and looked at them wincing. "I didn't kill him. I have an alibi!"

"For two weeks ago too?" asked Starsky coldly, standing motionlessly at the door. As if he didn't want to come any closer.

Oederkirk looked at him, terrified this time, "What two weeks ago?" he asked with fake innocence.

"Do you know what we think, Mr. Oederkirk?" Hutch crossed his arms and sighed theatrically. "We think that what happened two weeks ago to the students here was your work. You wanted to kill Doctor Williams, but you didn't expect him to have a court appearance that morning. And you didn't have the time to switch the bars back. So the students were hurt. And you decided on a more... reliable way of getting rid of him."

"I didn't kill him! W-why would I want to do that?!" Oederkirk was shaking so badly Hutch started to worry he was going to have a stroke.

"Why? You tell us, we know he was your father," Starsky said calmly.

Oederkirk blinked and froze. "How do you know that?" he asked, his voice very low.

For a moment Hutch wondered if Starsky would answer, but he did. "I knew your mother."

Oederkirk reached blindly behind him and found a chair. He slumped on it and sighed, closing his eyes and swiping a hand down his face. "Yes, I did want to kill him," he whispered with resignation. "He hurt my mother. He left us... I wanted him to suffer." He looked Starsky in the eyes. "But I didn't kill him. I — I couldn't. He... was my father. I — he changed. I couldn't do it to him. I was ready to do it, but then when I heard he had to change the schedule... I was glad he wasn't going in there. I wanted to switch the bars again, but there were already some students in there. I didn't want to hurt them. I really didn't want to. It should've been him. But it shouldn't be... him," he finished helplessly. "I didn't kill him! I swear! You have to believe me!"

Hutch looked at Starsky, who didn't meet his eyes. He just turned around and left the room. Hutch sighed and came closer to the assistant. "You're under arrest for attempted murder," he took out his handcuffs — for now 'attempted murder' was all they had. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Oederkirk didn't resist, just whispered defiantly, "I didn't kill him." Over and over again.

Hutch took him out where Starsky was standing leaning on the Torino. Starsky opened the door and looked at their culprit with such pity that Hutch almost stumbled over his own feet. What was going on in Starsky's head?

They rode to the station in silence. Hutch squeezed Starsky's arm briefly - there was no time for anything else — and got a small nod in return.

Starsky didn't get out of the car when Hutch went to book Oederkirk and Hutch didn't push him. It wasn't about vengeance or retribution — Starsky didn't have to book him himself. Nonetheless Hutch didn't waste time. Now that they had Oederkirk behind the bars, questioning could wait a couple of hours. Oederkirk had to get an attorney after all, so Hutch was back in the car in no time.

It looked as if Starsky hadn't moved since Hutch left.

"What's eating you?" Hutch asked when he was sitting next to him. "It's not the case, I can see it. And it's not Williams, either."

Starsky sighed. "Oederkirk was Ory's son."

Hutch frowned. "It's not the first time a son has killed his father."

Starsky looked him in the eyes. "It wasn't him," he said firmly.

Hutch nodded. "You feel it too?"

"He tried to do it, but it wasn't him," Starsky shrugged. There was unusual sadness in his voice.

"So who?" asked Hutch.

Starsky sighed. "I don't know."

Hutch just looked at him for a while. "But that's not what's bothering you."

Starsky sighed again and turned to face Hutch, "No, it's not. Hutch, Ory was his father. And he... he wanted to kill him!"

Hutch just put a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. Finally, he was beginning to understand. It wasn't about Williams or Oederkirk. It was about someone else.

"I still don't understand how people can hate that much?" Starsky continued. "What I wouldn't do to..."

Hutch squeezed his shoulder lightly, "I know, Starsk."

"I know you know," Starsky met his eyes. "It just hurts to see how easy it is to ruin something — something so important. And that people don't care."

Hutch knew the feeling. But he, at least, finally was trying to restore what was broken in his relationship with his own father. "Oederkirk found his father and didn't... couldn't appreciate it. I wonder if Darla Williams knew he had a son."

Starsky shook his head, "I think she didn't. Maybe Oederkirk blackmailed Ory to get the job at the college?"

Hutch thought about it for a moment. "Maybe. It makes sense. Why else would he help him get the job? "

Starsky nodded, looking a little better now. Hutch smiled, seeing the life coming back to his partner's eyes.

"Hutch?" Starsky smiled a little too mischievously for Hutch's liking.

"Yeah?" he asked cautiously.

"If you ever have a son, what will you call him?" There was a genuine curiosity in Starsky's voice. Recently, he'd been asking questions like that in a way that Hutch was usually taken by surprise and ended up telling him more than he ever wanted to admit.

"What do you think?" This time he didn't let Starsky take him off guard.

"Franklin Kenneth Hutchinson," answered Starsky without hesitation.

Hutch burst out laughing, "We decided on a 'no father's names' rule!" he said exasperated.

"Wise decision." Starsky patted his knee and started the car. "I wouldn't want David to sign his checks as Franklin." When he looked at Hutch again, Hutch was still smiling widely.

 

Chapter 4

Starsky was about to open the Torino's door when he saw Darla Williams coming his way. She looked as if she was scared and in a hurry. Hutch was still in their apartment finishing his — recently — daily call to Duluth. They were going to have dinner at a new restaurant Hutch had just found and he wanted to check before he invited the person who was constantly on his mind there.

"Detective Starsky!" she called when he noticed her.

"Yes?"He left the key in the door and looked at her, surprised.

"I need to talk to you," she said in a scared voice. She was wearing a suit and high heels so he decided she was coming from work or maybe going to work.

"How can I help you?" He took a step toward her.

"I know who killed my husband," Darla said, her voice shaking. "And I—" She stopped in the middle of sentence, looking at something behind him. Her eyes widened with growing fear.

Starsky turned around and first thing he saw was a barrel of a gun. He'd never seen the man holding it before, but it was obvious the man didn't care if he pulled the trigger or not.

"Now, wait a minute..." Starsky didn't have a chance to finish. The man hit him on the temple with the padded butt of his rifle. The last thing Starsky saw before he lost consciousness was that the man was going to do the same to Darla.

*

They were good, Hutch had to admit. Better even than Starsky, and though Hutch was Starsky's best student, after a long and furious chase he had lost them.

No, no, no, no!

The first moment of panic passed and his cop's instinct kicked in. Only Starsky and Darla Williams had been at the car when they got kidnapped — he had seen it through the window. He'd even managed to shoot after the car in which the men took his partner and the interpreter away, but he'd missed and didn't stop them.

Now all he had was the knowledge that Valerie Cain might know what was going on and if not, he had the plates.

He called dispatch and in a few minutes, learned that the car was registered to the consulate of Ruganda. It didn't make sense to him, but when he was driving the Torino and Starsky wasn't sitting next to him, few things did.

Ten minutes later he found Valerie Cain at home.

"Detective Hutchinson?" She looked at him, surprised.

"Where is Darla Williams?" Hutch cut to the chase, walking in the open door without waiting to be invited.

"Darla?" Valerie asked startled. "She had some errands after we finished the work today. I don't know where she is. She hasn't come back yet."

"She and my partner were just kidnapped by someone from Ruganda," Hutch said as coldly as he could. He couldn't let anything distract him now. He had to focus on the most important things. "What do you know about it?"

She paled visibly and Hutch thought for a moment she was going to pass out.

"No, not again," she whispered and closed her eyes for a moment.

"What do you mean again?" he asked in dangerously low voice.

She looked at him and this time he felt as if someone had walked over his grave. He knew he wouldn't like what she was going to say, but she told him anyway. And with every word his hope for finding Starsky alive got weaker and weaker. But he wouldn't give up. Couldn't give up.

Never.

*

"Detective Starsky?"

Starsky opened his eyes and immediately knew it wasn't the best idea. The pain in his head exploded and instantly reached almost every fiber of his body.

"Ahhh, terrific," he moaned and tried to touch his temple, but somebody's hand stopped his movement.

"Are you okay, Detective?"

He recognized Darla Williams' voice.

"'S David," he whispered because the noise only made the pain worse. "And I think I'm not okay." He tried to sit up and she helped him lean on the wall.

He looked at her and saw a deep wound on her cheek — he thought it was caused by the blow she got by the car. Starsky had done better. He had only his shirt ripped and one of his shoes missing.

"Where are we?" He looked around. They were in some kind of cellar; there was dirt on the floor and nothing else but bare brick walls and a wooden door.

"I think it's the same place they kept us last time," she said, sitting next to him. He noticed she had holes in her tights on her knees and ankles.

"Last time?" He looked at her, trying to forget about the headache.

"Yes. They kidnapped Valerie and me once before."

"Are you okay?" Starsky tried to check out her cheek.

"Yeah." She winced as he touched her. "It doesn't hurt as much as it did."

The blood was already dry and there was nothing that he could do about it anyway. "How long've I been out?" he asked instead.

She looked at her watch, "It's almost six. I don't remember the drive here. I think we were unconscious for about forty minutes."

"Not good." He shook his head tentatively and realized with surprise it didn't hurt as much as before. "Who are they?" It was what he had wanted to know from the very beginning.

She looked at her palms and took a deep breath. "They are... the people who killed Ory. And it is all my fault..."

Starsky knew what was coming; he'd felt the same more often than he wanted to remember. And guilt trips were the worst states of mind he ever witnessed Hutch in.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay." He put an arm around her.

She let him, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, but didn't stop shaking, "No, it's not! I killed him. It's not important that I didn't hold the machete. He died because of me..."

Starsky let her talk, knowing it was what she needed the most at the moment. "Maybe you can start at the beginning so I understand how it is your fault?" he asked, when the sobbing stopped.

She shifted to sit more comfortably, but let him leave his arm around her shoulders. "When we were assigned to the Ruganda negotiations we didn't know what we were getting into," she said, shaking her head. "How much do you know about it?"

Starsky frowned, trying to remember the latest news, "I know there are two groups who want to reign the country. It's a small country but with natural resources very rare for Africa."

"Yes, that's why other countries don't want a civil war to begin there, because it's easier to trade with a country where you don't risk getting killed." She nodded. "ONZ didn't want to send their negotiators there so our government decided to give it a try. My friend Mark Stone initiated it. One day he will be a great senator."

"Which faction wanted Ory dead?" Starsky asked, looking at her sadly.

She surprised him again, "None. It's not about the political groups. It's about some private arms dealers. They don't want to keep the peace there. They would prosper if there was war. We were doing everything not to let it happen, but they were sabotaging the negotiations from the very beginning. It's not easy to make the politicians believe what it's really about, because there is too much hatred from the past, but we're making progress. And the dealers know it. That is why they started threatening us." She got quiet, when they heard voices on the other side of the door. "It's locked," she said when the voices faded.

Starsky nodded. "And because you didn't let go, they threatened your families. This is why your friend broke up her engagement?"

She looked at him, surprised, "Yes," she admitted. "After they killed Ory... Valerie didn't want the same happen to her fiancé. They wanted to get married next month and now..."

"And this is why you wanted to divorce Ory?" He reached for her hand and squeezed.

She nodded with tears in her eyes, "I h-hoped they would forget about him. But they didn't. The first documents were about to be s-signed next weekend. They called two d-days ago and again repeated the threat."

"Why didn't you tell me that when we were there yesterday?" asked Starsky, when she withdrew her hand and wiped the tears of her face.

"I was scared." She shrugged. "I wasn't sure they wouldn't hurt Valerie."

"It was they who told you about his death? Just before we got there, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "The Dean's office also called but we had another call a few minutes after two in the morning. I— I heard him calling me, when they were—" She couldn't talk anymore; she just dug her fingers into his shirt and cried. Starsky hugged her and didn't ask anything else for a while.

"They didn't want to kill us," Darla continued after a long time. "They just wanted us to end the peace in Ruganda. But I know how it is there. We were there with Valerie. The local people don't know anything about what the politicians are fighting over. They are mostly farmers and nomads. And it would be they who would be killed by the weapons the dealers want to sell and send there. Do you know how much they already spend on the army?" She looked at Starsky fiercely. "We couldn't agree to do it. They kidnapped us and held us here for a few hours in the beginning of the negotiations. We wanted to report that and we did, but we had no proof. They are too good at what they are doing. It was our word against theirs."

Starsky thought about it for a while and something didn't add up. "Now they have kidnapped us. Why?"

"Because I wanted to tell you." She hesitated. "And now Valerie is there alone!"

"Hey." He held her close. "They don't have her. She would've been here if they did."

She calmed a little. "Maybe." She shivered.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Starsky looked at her worried.

"No. I just... hope she's okay."

Starsky smiled a little. "If you're not back tonight, she'll know something happened, am I right?"

"Yeah. If they don't..."

"They won't," he cut her off.

Darla just nodded and leaned back, closing her eyes. Starsky stood up and checked the door. It was locked as he'd thought, but he had to know for sure. He tried to open it, working on both the hinges and the lock, but nothing worked. All he got were splinters in his palm. He hit the surface with frustration and went back to where Darla was still sitting. He noticed she also had her hand scratched the way he just did.

"How about you?" She looked up with weary eyes when he sat down again.

"How about me?" Starsky turned so he could see her face.

"Is there someone who will... miss you?" Darla whispered.

Starsky realized how much it cost her to ask that question, because he knew what she was asking about. Admitting to being mortal did that to you — some things became more important and other just faded. Maybe it was her way to not fall completely apart in front of him? Not yet, at least.

"Sure there is," he smiled.

"You are not married." She reached for his left hand and saw he had no wedding ring there.

"No." He smiled more broadly.

"You will be?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe one day." Starsky just shrugged.

"So who?"

"My mother, my brother. The lady who cleans the locker rooms at the station."

"David!" She laughed and it was genuine.

"Well, she likes me." Starsky gave her his best smile.

"Hutch?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." Starsky frowned, hoping that Hutch would actually miss him. Because there was a time Starsky had worried that Hutch wouldn't be far behind if something had ever happened to Starsky.

"I heard Ory calling him that," she added. "You know, I was thinking about why he wanted to know so much about you two and I think I know. His life was about looking for impossible things. And what your partner did after you were shot was kind of impossible, don't you think? You also lived when the doctors weren't giving you a chance. He wanted to know how it had happened. I went to our house yesterday and searched his notes. I even found his professor thesis. He mentioned you there. He wrote that it was you who inspired him with your questions to look for that kind of resolution of the wave function, but there was no equation. I don't know where he had it saved."

"If he had it saved," Starsky sighed.

"Yeah, you never know where you will find it," she whispered.

Starsky smiled. "He said the same to me when we last met."

"Really?" She tilted her head. "So he finally decided to call you?"

"Yeah, we had dinner together," Starsky admitted. "He even gave me a baseball card like the one of mine he burned in high school. He covered our joints with the cards when my uncle caught us smoking." He had to smile at the memory.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "He was trying so hard to make me come back. He would do anything... he wanted to give up the lab work. He wanted to try teaching. He... It hurt so much to see him suffer. I loved him so much..."

He didn't say anything, remembering his and Ory's last evening together. Even he could see how his former friend changed.

"These scars, it's from the shooting?" After a while she pointed at part of his chest that wasn't covered by his ripped shirt.

"Yeah."

"You don't feel self-conscious about them." She searched his face but he didn't falter.

"Why should I?" he asked, knowing exactly what she wanted to talk about. "They're part of me and that part of my life when I got them was one of the most intense in my life. I've never felt so alive before. It's hard to explain, even harder to understand, but... it helped me a lot. The whole time after I woke up, all the physiotherapy, the adjusting — it's what made it worth fighting."

She touched her own face. "I don't think we will live long enough for me to start worry about my scars," she said bitterly.

"Hey," he held her hand. "My partner's out there, looking for me. After he finds us I'll recommend you an excellent plastic surgeon. He's a true virtuoso." He shot her a smile.

"Did he try to fix it?" she nodded at his chest.

"No," Starsky shrugged. "I didn't use his services."

"Why?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't need to, because it doesn't matter."

"Why?" She sat up straighter. "If you could get rid of that, why didn't you?"

Starsky thought about the question for a while. Darla needed to talk, so he could provide it. Or rather she needed to listen.

"See," he began slowly. "At first I wanted to. But they couldn't do it until I was healed inside, so they wouldn't have to do it twice if I needed another surgery. They used all the methods to make the scars heal nicely without any interference and when I was out of the hospital I thought I still had time to do it. There was no need to hurry. I was sick of being cut and probed and prodded and examined. And the surgery would put me through that ordeal again. So it was easier not to do it," he finished dismissively.

"How about women?"

"The chicks like it. And, well, they don't always have to see it."

She laughed at that and he pulled her closer. She was still scared but it was different kind of fear. This kind of fear he could deal with.

He closed his eyes, remembering the time when looked at the mirror for the first time after coming home. Of course he had seen the scars before, examined them over and over again until he got used to them. But it was in the hospital. Home was home. Even though it was Venice Place. Or maybe because it was Venice?

He didn't feel very confident at first. The only people who ever saw him shirtless were the doctors and nurses. And Hutch. How many times he'd applied the ointment over the scars on his back where Starsky couldn't reach himself, Starsky stopped counting. And that day he was also there. Hutch noticed where Starsky went and followed him in case he needed assistance. Because sometimes he still did. He still had some issues with putting on shirts and bending down to lace his shoes.

But that time it wasn't about help. It was about acceptance and Hutch passed the test. Starsky could have asked what Hutch saw when he was looking at the mangled lines left by the bullets or the straight ones left after the surgical intrusions. But they didn't communicate that way. Hutch answered the unspoken question the only way that could have been listened to and heard. He touched the scars the same way Starsky used to do. It wasn't the medical way — because he did that countless times before. It was the 'make them real, make them part of their partnership, accept' way.

Hutch left his hand over Starsky's heart for a little longer, but Starsky didn't mind. At that very moment every beat of his heart was meant for Hutch anyway.

Starsky sighed. He looked at Darla, who sat silent in his arms. He hoped that after they were out there, she would find her own way to deal with what had happened to them. He didn't even want to think about what she felt. If he had lost Hutch... no, he wasn't going there. Hutch was looking for them and he had to be ready. No matter that they'd taken his gun and anything else that could serve as weapon. His partner wouldn't forgive him if he gave up on them now. Or ever.

*

Hutch was grateful only for one thing — they didn't take Starsky and Darla off US soil. If they'd taken them on to the consulate ground, it wouldn't have been as easy to get to as this old factory, so he was thankful for the small miracles. Everything in him screamed that he should just go there and take back what belonged to him — because he knew Starsky was there. But Hutch wasn't twenty anymore, nor was he thirty.

Starsky would never forgive him if Hutch was killed trying to save him. And even though both of them knew Hutch would die for Starsky in a heartbeat and consider himself lucky, Hutch would never hurt him like that if he had any other choice.

So Hutch called for backup, and checked the ground and the company who owned the place. The only thing he couldn't get out of the way was Valerie, who insisted on coming with him. "I have to be there. I won't get in the way. I won't even leave the car if you don't want me to. Darla must feel I'm here, we are partners and she's scared!"

Yeah, they were all scared. But it was no reason to stop looking for them and fighting.

When they arrived, Hutch saw the car standing near the entrance to the building — the same car that had taken Starsky away. He felt the rush of adrenalin. Starsky was there.

After a brief talk to his captain, Hutch, Rhade and Cobb ran toward the doors. The building was in a poor state. The windows of the old factory were boarded up and the exterior was cracked and crumbling. They didn't hesitate. Hutch went first; there was nobody behind the doors. But there were voices from the depths of the old building. He didn't waste time and neither did the other two sergeants.

Cobb signaled he saw a guard at the end of the corridor on the other side of the hall, so Hutch let Rhade back him up and headed toward the stairs. Up or down? Where would I hide them?

Downstairs.

After few steps, he heard a voice again. "You won't get away with that!" Hutch recognized Darla Williams' voice — angry and disappointed.

"And you really think it would last?" It was a male's voice this time. Hutch wasn't sure about that one. Something stirred in his memory but he didn't know for certain. "Maybe a year or two. Or even ten. But they will kill each other in the end. It's in their nature. We can profit from that. You could, too, Darla. But you are too stubborn and too noble. Why couldn't you just make a deal? Your beloved Gregory wouldn't have to die because of you!"

Hutch looked carefully through the door. It was a basement — no windows, no furniture and no other door. Starsky was standing in the middle of the room, facing a man who had him at a gunpoint. The man had his back to the door and Darla was standing a few steps to their left.

Hutch took a step closer. The stupidest mistake of the villains — too much talking. He knew Starsky saw him but didn't react in any way to reveal his presence.

Hutch pressed the barrel of his Magnum to the back of the man's neck. "Drop it," he said in a deadly cold voice. Nobody who even looked at his partner threateningly deserved better than the lowest scum in Hutch's eyes. The man — Mark Stone, Hutch recognized him now from the TV — was the initiator of the negotiations in the US. Apparently that way he could keep an eye on the whole process. Hutch didn't care for him.

Stone froze and Starsky didn't need any other invitation. Before the man could react Starsky had his gun and he was standing between him and Darla. But she wouldn't have any of that.

"How could you do that?" She hit Stone and dug her fingers in his suit. "How could you?"

Starsky tried to pull her back, but she held onto her boss with strength Starsky didn't expect.

"Nobody wants peace there!" Stone said with disgust. "Nobody!"

"You are wrong," Darla yelled into his face. "You weren't there! You didn't see the people! And you killed Ory..."

"Hey, shhh," Starsky finally unhooked her fingers and got her away from Stone. He held her tight and looked over her shoulder at Hutch.

Hutch was still holding Stone in place with his gun. Everything about the scene confirmed what Valerie had told him — that they suspected someone who was part of the negotiations. A quick check up on Starsky and Hutch sighed with relief, the coldness inside him warming a little. Were they safe again?

Hutch heard steps behind and a moment later Cobb entered the cellar.

"You okay, guys?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah," Hutch confirmed. "How about you?"

"We've got the other three. Rhade checked the place, there's no one else," Cobb explained and turned around to leave.

"Let's get out of here." Starsky led Darla toward the door. As he passed Hutch, Starsky brushed his fingers over his partner's knuckles.

Hutch's anger and fear began to fade at the contact and he could breathe again.

"You're under arrest." Hutch pulled at Sloan, to handcuff him. "You have the right to remain silent..."

A moment later he heard Valerie running down the stairs, "Darla! I was so scared!" She sounded as relieved as Hutch was himself. Starsky appeared at the door and their eyes locked.

Hutch didn't take Stone out of the cellar until he was sure Valerie and Darla had left.

 

Epilogue

Hutch liked running in the rain here in California. In Duluth it was either too cold or the tracks were not in the condition to enjoy the activity, or he could invent many other excuses. Here, in Bay City, every morning was his time. Time to think, time to feel or time just to be himself. As if the rain could make things clean again.

For most of the mornings at least.

But this one was among the ones he wanted and could enjoy. And how he could. The feel of the wind in his hair, the hard surface of the path under his feet, fresh air in his lungs and the distant sound of the ocean waves. The day was perfect. And finally, Hutch could really enjoy it.

Some time ago, he got lost and the morning jogging wasn't as tempting as it used to be, and no amount of water could make him feel clean. Until he lost everything that he still valued — three minutes of life without Starsky and he knew that it was high time to make a change. It was still a work in progress but at least he was heading in the right direction.

He could feel it in every cell of his body.

"Hutch, do you really haveta leave all your stuff on the floor? When I trip over and break my neck, you'll have to do all the chores yourself." Starsky's complaining greeted him at the door.

Hutch grinned. It felt so good to come home and feel 'home'. He'd owned Venice Place since he had sold the cottage, but only after Starsky had moved in to the adjacent apartment and they'd combined the places after he got shot, had it felt like a real home. And soon it would feel even better.

Hutch didn't spare a glance at Starsky, who was picking up the clothes Hutch had left by the couch yesterday, and put the groceries to the kitchen. Then he went to the bathroom.

"And you should change your line; you say it every day." Hutch just smirked. He knew that the water that was dripping off him would make Starsky furious. Nobody was as oversensitive when it came to keeping all tidy than his partner. Fortunately Starsky's little sister wasn't that demanding.

Hutch grinned even more.

After taking a shower, Hutch stopped at the mirror and looked at his own reflection. Maybe it was time...

"Don't." Starsky entered the bathroom.

"Don't what?" Hutch looked at Starsky's reflection. Apparently he'd also just finished his shower because his hair was still wet.

Starsky wiped his finger under his nose, "That," he smiled.

Hutch turned around and looked at him surprised, "How did you know?"

Starsky just shrugged and leaned on the doorframe. "Well, I can tell when you want to change something."

Hutch looked at him for a while and reached for the shaving kit. "Oh, yeah?" he encouraged.

Starsky thought about it for a while, "It happens suddenly. It doesn't take you months, like it does with me. Sometimes it's just a day. Or a night. Or even not that long."

For a moment there was just the sound of Hutch shaving in the bathroom — he spared the mustache — and only after he finished, he looked at Starsky again.

"When did I do it before?" he asked curious.

"Last time was two years ago. But you know that, right? And before that, when Van moved out. And even before, in the Academy."

"In the Academy?" Hutch frowned. He remembered the other times, but not this one.

Starsky nodded shortly, "Yeah, just after we had the test of cooperation. The one that none of us passed."

Hutch lowered his head and sighed. "I remember," he whispered. "If I hadn't hesitated..."

"Hey, it was the purpose of the test," Starsky cut him off before he could say something more. "How many times did it save our butts?"

"I guess you're right," Hutch knew it was true.

"Of course I'm right," Starsky slapped him on the back and went to the kitchen. Hutch followed and saw him dig into the bag of donuts Hutch had brought him from the bakery.

"Starsk, it's six in the morning," it was expected of him to complain.

"Yeah, it's six in the morning and I still haven't had my donut." Starsky always bit back.

Hutch just sighed with mocked disgust and prepared his morning vitamins. Starsky — as every day — observed him with a mix of fascination and revulsion as he drank the whole glass without even blinking.

"The more something changes the more it stays the same, huh?" Hutch asked with a grin. Starsky just shook his head indulgently.

Hutch leaned over the table and wiped the donut icing of Starsky's nose. "You think I don't know why you didn't want me to shave?" he asked grinning. He knew he had most of the content of the glass still on his mustache.

And Starsky just smiled softly.

In two more days all that would matter for Hutch would be the two gold rings in Starsky's pocket, his parents in the front pew, and the future Mrs. Hutchinson — Allison May Hutchinson — walking down the aisle of their familiar church in Duluth. That's what she was doing the last two weeks with his parents — preparing their wedding. He missed her terribly.

Yes, it sounded good. And though life even after their transfer wasn't any safer than it was on the streets, Hutch had finally realized that life wasn't about staying alive or even about living anymore. Life was about loving.

He knew he had changed again — he could feel it so deep inside that even he was afraid to look there. But this time he didn't have to show it the whole world. His own whole world knew it already very well.

Maybe even before Hutch did himself.

The End