"Hi ya Blintz. Ready for lunch? I'm famished," Starsky announced.

A little too cheerfully, Hutch noticed.

Hutch knew that his partner had his final conference with the review board scheduled earlier that morning. Hutch hadn't wanted to add to the pressure by focusing too much on the board's decision. So, over the past few days, they had done everything — in bed and out — to take Starsky's mind off of the possible outcomes.

That suited Hutch just fine, because he, himself, didn't know what he wanted the police review board's decision to be. He knew that Starsky had only ever wanted to be a cop, so he told himself that he wanted the board to clear his partner for full duty, and they could hit the streets together just like they used to.

But, in his heart of hearts, he wasn't sure he wanted that. Wasn't sure at all.

"What else is new? But, as it happens, I'm a little hungry myself," he said, anxious to hear Starsky's accounting of the morning's events over their meal.

"Well, if you'd eat more than that nasty sea kelp and decimated liver stuff in the mornings, maybe you'd have a little more staying power."

"Don't seem to remember you're having any complaints about my staying power last night," Hutch softly whispered, but the blush in his cheeks revealed that he was the one who was feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Don't try to taunt me Hutchinson, you know you can't win," Starsky said, as he grabbed his partner by the arm and steered him toward the doors of the squad room.

As they were leaving Parker Center, they ran into Jake Redel and his partner, Samson.

"Hey Jake, Sammy," Starsky called out. Again, Hutch detected a note of false cheer in his voice.

"Starsky! Good to see you, man. Hey, look Sammy, it's Starsky. You remember Starsky, don'tcha?" With that, Jake released the large Labrador-Shepherd mixed breed from his leash and Samson surged forward.

While Starsky bathed in the adoration of the one half of Metro's premier K-9 team, Hutch grinned at Jake. "So, Jake, I hear you guys just finished training some new recruits," Hutch said. "That brings the K-9 unit up to six teams now, right?"

"Yeah. They all seem like a good bunch. The guys and the animals," Redel said. He continued with some pride in his voice. "Didja hear that Sammy took down one of the pushers in that narco bust last week? Man, you shouldda seen 'em. Guy tried to pull a knife on me and Samson went at him and had him pinned and crying for his mama in seconds."

Jake gave Samson's collar a gentle tug because, by this time, Starsky was in danger of being licked-to-death by the beast he had, moments before, been discussing.

"Heart of a lion, this one," Jake said giving Sam a scritch behind the ears, "Best partner a guy could have."

"Almost," corrected Hutch, as he reached out to scratch Starsky's head, mimicking Jake's actions.

Starsky leaned into his hand before good-naturedly shaking it off. Pretending to bite Hutch, he gave a little growl.

"Uh-oh. Feeding time. You know how ornery they can get if you withhold food, right Jake?"

"We were just headed to grab some lunch at The Pits. Wanna come?" Starsky offered.

"Thanks guys, but Sam and me gotta check in. We're supposed to helping find the perp in that string of purse snatchings that you've been doing the research on. Next time, though.," Jake promised. "Great to see you, Starsky. Hope we get a chance to work together, again, soon." With a click of his tongue and a quick jerk of his head, Jake had Samson at his side and they disappeared through the doors of Parker Center.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Man, am I glad I'm able to eat real food again. That had to be one of the hardest parts of my recovery," Starsky said after finishing most of his burger and fries. Giving a contented sigh, he pushed away from the table. "If I ever see another dish of jello it will be too soon. I guess that's one good thing to come out of all this, you learn to appreciate the good things you got," he said, as he gave a meaningful glance toward his partner.

Hutch had finished his salad and leaned in to listen to his best friend. Reminding himself that the important thing to remember was to support Starsky. In spite of any reservations he might personally be harboring about Starsky's return to the force.

"So, how did it go this morning with the review board?" Hutch asked, bracing himself for a response.

"Hutch, you know that I loved bein' a cop. But more than that, I loved bein' your partner..."

"Wait a minute. Loved? As in the past-tense? They didn't clear you for full duty?"

While part of Hutch was relieved, a bigger part of him was outraged on behalf of his partner. How could they not see how much he had to offer? And after all he went through during his recovery and rehabilitation. All with the goal of being reinstated.

"You gotta understand something, Hutch. This is mostly my decision," Starsky said with some resignation.

"Whaddaya mean, your decision?" Hutch was incredulous.

"I mean, they pretty much said it was up to me... and I been thinkin' about it for a while now. The fact is, while I've come back a long way since the shooting, I'm not the man I was. That's the truth." To his credit, Starsky did not avoid looking directly at his partner as he continued. "My lung capacity will never be the same, hell even my shooting skills have been affected." He shook his head. "I couldn't do the job, on the streets, day-in and day-out like I used to. Bottom line is: I couldn't back you up like you deserve. I need you to be safe, Hutch." Starsky covered Hutch's hand with his own and waited.

"Okay," Hutch acquiesced.

"Okay? Just like that?" Starsky gave a little snort. "Hunh. Thought you might have some more questions. But I like it when you're agreeable," he said with a wink, as he squeezed his partners hand. "And, even though you didn't ask, I'll tell ya; the department offered me pretty fair disability pension, so I'm taking that. I think we'll be okay money-wise..."

"I'm not worried about the money, Starsk. I just want to make sure this is what you want."

"That's my Blintz. Told ya I've been thinkin' about it for a while. You had to know that. And don't think I didn't appreciate how you didn't try to influence my decision," Starsky said affectionately.

"Well, I just wanted you to have what you wanted... I've always wanted that for you," Hutch said sincerely.

"I know it'll be hard for you to break in a new partner. To be honest, it'll be hard for me to think of anybody else having your back, but..."

"Nobody else is gonna have my back, Starsk," Hutch interrupted

"Waddaya mean? You need a partner Blondie. Nobody gets to go solo. Even if you are the Super-cop who brought down James Gunther," Starsky said with undisguised pride.

"I mean, I don't think I wanna do this anymore. I know the timing probably sucks. With all the other changes happening in our lives..."

"Don't wanna do 'what' anymore, Hutch? This?" Starsky asked as he gestured back and forth between the two of them with his index finger. And for the first time, since their conversation began, he looked shaken.

"Oh no, Babe. That's not what I meant at all," Hutch assured him as he moved his chair closer. He seized Starsky's hand in the air and brought it to his lips, giving it a reverent kiss. Holding onto it, possessively, he crooned. "Me and Thee, Starsk. Forever. I thought we had decided that, already."

His features relaxing, Starsky appeared relieved. "Then what don't you wanna do?"

"Be a cop," Hutch stated simply.

"How can you say that? You love bein' a cop, Hutch," Starsky said decidedly.

"Correction. I loved being a cop. Past-tense." Hutch clarified. "Mostly because I loved having you as a partner. But, I hate to break it to ya, even 'Super-cop' is starting to slow down a little." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Hell, I was already beginning to burn out last year. And don't tell me you didn't notice." Hutch silenced Starsky's attempted response with a shake of his head. "My heart isn't in it the way it used to be. I don't have that edge that I think I need to be the best, on the streets, anymore. Might be time to let some new blood take the reins."

Hutch paused and took a healthy sip from his lukewarm Coke.

"So. There you have it," he said, wadding up his napkin and tossing it on the table. "My big confession. You wanna know the worst part?" Hutch asked. He continued without giving his partner a chance voice an opinion, "The worst part, is that part of me was hoping the board wouldn't clear you. Some friend I am, right? Figured I could use that as an excuse to quit the force in support of you or something," Hutch admitted, very disappointed in himself.

"Awww, Hutch. Nobody can hurt you the way you can. You're as much entitled to your feelings as I am," Starsky said, with a turn of phrase that got Hutch's attention.

"Wow. Those sessions with the department shrink have really paid off for you," he said laughing, feeling as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

A companionable silence fell between them, then. Everything was going be okay. They knew that, now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On their way back to the Station to attack the next round of paperwork, Starsky and Hutch found themselves caught in an unexpected traffic snarl.

"Wanna radio into the dispatch, tell 'em why we're running late, and maybe alert them to whatever this hold-up is about?" Starsky suggested.

"That's probably a good idea," Hutch replied. "This is Zebra Three — Detective Hutchinson — to dispatch, coming off Code Seven. We're stuck in traffic here over on Ocean and..." was all Hutch got out before Millie's voice interrupted him.

"Zebra Three. We have an officer involved shooting in your area. Ocean Avenue and Vine Street, asking for additional assistance."

Starsky gave Hutch an affirmative nod, in answer to his unspoken question, and Hutch placed the Mars light on the roof of the Torino. There would never be a question when it came to helping a fellow officer in need.

"Zebra Three. We are responding," Hutch relayed back to dispatch.

Starsky hit the accelerator pedal and, within a few minutes, they arrived at the scene. Black and whites had the cross streets of Ocean and Vine blocked off and yellow caution tape ringed the area. Starsky and Hutch made their way to the officer in charge.

"What's happening, Foster? Dispatch said there was an officer involved shooting," Hutch said.

"Hutchinson, Starsky," Foster replied grimly. "It's not good. We have one man down. Took him to Memorial but they think he's gonna make it." He gestured to where uniformed officers were questioning some locals. "They were responding to a call of some punk who stole a lady's purse. Had him cornered in an alley, when the guy pulled out a piece. Witnesses said there was no warning, the hype just shot him." Foster shook his head. "His partner managed to get a piece of the perp but was wounded in the altercation..."

"So, the suspect is out there, but wounded," said Hutch. "Did you get a description from his partner — and how is he — is he conscious?"

"He's being attended to now... but you won't be able to get much of a description from him," Foster lamented.

"Too traumatized over what happened to his partner?" Hutch asked, remembering being in that same position a year ago.

"Well, yeah, probably. Redel is the only partner he's ever had. Been together since he joined the force..."

Satrsky interjected, "Jake Redel? Oh my god. We just talked to him this morning."

Starsky and Hutch instinctively moved closer together, seeking mutual comfort in their nearness.

Sergeant Foster handed them a torn piece of cloth. Plaid flannel. "We got this from Samson," he explained. "Seems to have torn it off — along with a chunk of the perp's arm — before the punk escaped. Damn mutt managed to get shot himself, but the vet says it doesn't look life-threatening."

"Heart of a lion," Starsky repeated Redel's earlier praise of his K-9 partner.

"Thanks, Sergeant," Hutch said examining the cloth. "We've been looking at the data from these purse snatching incidents over the past couple weeks. There doesn't seem to be any pattern, other than they're getting more frequent, probably in accordance to the guy's growing addiction. They appear random and show no signs of organized thought..."

"All of which means, we're lookin' for a junkie who'll be lookin' for his next fix," Starsky summarized.

"Yeah. And worse. An injured junkie," Hutch said. "If we think he was outta control before, just imagine how his instincts have gotten screwed up now."

"Free clinic?" Starsky suggested.

"Probably a good place to start." Hutch started walking back to the Torino with a determined expression. "He might go there to seek treatment for his wound, and maybe if they had a methadone program or something. But first, we gotta' get you back to the station. I'm not putting you at risk when..."

"Listen, Blintz," Starsky interrupted. "Told ya before, I wouldn't consider doin' this long-term, 'cause I just don't got it in me. But I can go with you now." He dug the car keys from his from pocket. "I'm rested and strong as I'll ever be. I would tell you if I didn't think I could back you up. Let's hit this guy's trail before it goes cold. Okay?"

"Okay, Partner," Hutch agreed as he clasped Starsky's shoulder. "Let's get him before he hurts anybody else."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky cut the siren and Hutch ditched the Mars light as they neared the free clinic on Valley Boulevard. Keeping a careful lookout on the surrounding streets, both hoped they'd spot something suspicious. Hutch noticed that Starsky unconsciously gripped the piece of cloth the Sergeant had given them.

Why flannel? Hutch wondered. It had been unseasonably warm — even for summer — for the past few weeks, with highs in the nineties, and even he had eschewed his turtlenecks and favorite flannels in favor of cooler cotton T-shirts and woven shirts. Who wore flannel in this weather?

Junkies. Especially those going through withdrawal. Their internal body temperature would be all messed up due to the chemical substances they used. Plus junkies frequently used the long sleeves to hide the track marks.

Starsky parked the Torino a couple blocks to the east of Valley Boulevard. Hutch exited the vehicle and waited on the sidewalk for Starsky to join him before walking toward the clinic. As they passed an alley on the next block Hutch heard a faint sound. A rustling coming from behind the dumpsters. A moan of discomfort. After exchanging silent nods, the detectives stealthily approached the source of the noise.

With his gun drawn, Hutch kept pace with Starsky, not wanting to let him out of his sight. He stole a surreptitious look at the form huddled against the alley wall. There, facing away from the street, sat a young man in obvious pain. Moaning, rocking and hugging himself tightly.

The man was wearing a flannel shirt with a large tear in the arm and favoring an injury to that arm, which was bleeding profusely. He was in no shape to put up a fight, but Starsky kept his gun trained on him, as his partner holstered his magnum and broke cover to approach the suspect.

"Hey," Hutch spoke in a gentle tone, trying not to alarm the man. "You look like you could use some help, why don't you come with me and we can get that arm looked at."

Protesting through his chattering teeth, the man said, "No, no, no... can't man. I'm in big trouble. Think I killed a cop... It all happened so fast... this huge demon came at me and I think I blacked out..."

Hutch noticed the gun laying slightly behind the suspect and managed to kick it away without spooking the guy.

"Hey. It's okay. That cop isn't dead," Hutch said soothingly. "They think he's gonna make it. We need to get you some help."

Starsky came around the dumpster to help secure the suspect by clicking the handcuffs around his wrists while Hutch took care not to further aggravate the man's injured arm as he helped him to his feet.

Starsky called for back-up, requesting the suspect be taken, first, to an emergency room and then to a facility for psychiatric observation.

After seeing him loaded into an ambulance, the two men turned to each other, in silent agreement. This seemed to be an appropriate culmination to their career as Bay City's finest detectives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"... And it is with great pride that, as the Mayor of Bay City, I present these commendations for your service and for being injured in the line of duty. Officer Jake Redel..." Mayor Stevenson proclaimed as he presented the award.

Jake accepted the plaque with a proud smile and shook the mayor's hand.

"And Samson." Stevenson added.

At the sound of his name, Samson looked to Jake who nodded toward the mayor. Samson lifted his paw to shake.

There were cheers from all who had gathered, including Starsky and Hutch who attended the ceremony to honor their friends.

It had been several weeks since the day Jake and Samson had been shot by that junkie. Jake's knife wound had healed completely, and Samson also seemed to be recovering well, though there was still a visible patch of short fur on his hind leg where the Veterinarian had shaved him.

Things had changed for Starsky and Hutch during those weeks as well. After following up on the trial of that last case of the purse snatcher, Starsky and Hutch had resigned from the BCPD.

They entertained a few ideas of what to do with their lives, but were taking their time. Hutch, especially, didn't want to rush into anything. Though lately, he had been seriously considering the idea of starting a private detective agency with his partner.

*************************

"It's a great idea, Hutch. We'll still be able to help people and make a difference. And I know how much you like to solve puzzles. Just think, you'll be able to use that big beautiful brain of yours that way you were meant to," Starsky enthused, as they lay in bed on that morning of the scheduled awards ceremony.

"You know, it makes me so hot when you start complimenting my brain-power," Hutch said as turned within the circle of his partner's arms. "Next thing you know, you'll start singing the praises of my cooking prowess."

"Well, you know what they say; the way to a man's heart..." Starsky left the sentence unfinished as he went in for a kiss.

"Don't I know it," Hutch sighed when their lips parted. "C'mon. We're both sticky. We have just enough time for a shower if we want to make Jake's commendation ceremony."

"And Sammy. He's gettin' an award too. Don't forget."

"Right. That's why we have both the bottle of champagne and the Milk Bones for the celebration," Hutch confirmed as they headed to get showered and dressed.

*****************************

"Congratulations guys. Looking good Jake. Have you been cleared for duty yet?" Starsky asked, as he and Hutch approached Redel when the crowd thinned.

"Just this week," Jake said, but he didn't sound as excited as Hutch thought he would. Jake was still fairly young and Hutch couldn't see him getting burned out this soon.

"What's wrong Jake? Thought you'd be chomping at the bit to get back out there," Hutch said.

"It's Sammy," He said, looking mournfully at his canine companion.

"I thought the vet said he was okay. We checked. And he looks good.. .except for that limp," Starsky said. He crouched down to give Samson a firm scritching around the neck and ears, and produced a Milk Bone treat, from his jacket, which Samson accepted with enthusiasm.

"That's just it. The limp. It's not gonna get any better. The vet says he's not in pain, and healthy otherwise, but the bullet shattered a good portion on his hind leg bone..." Jake hesitated. "Damn... there's no easy way to say this. He can't be a Police dog anymore. He doesn't pass their standards." He absently stroked the dog's furry ears and Samson woofed with pleasure. "And I get it, I really do. They need to have the fittest dogs out there with all they're expected to do. But I just feel..."

"Well... Hey! That's okay. He's earned his retirement. Haven't you Sammy?" Starsky said, now hugging Sam along with the scratching, resulting in a vigorously wagging tail. "Jake's just gonna have to wait on you from now on. That doesn't sound so bad." Samson licked Starsky, as if in agreement.

Now, Jake really looked forlorn.

"What is it Jake?" Hutch asked, concerned for this man he'd watched develop into a promising young Police Officer.

"If I want to keep my position as head of the K-9 unit, I'll need to be assigned a new partner," he choked. "A new dog. And when you train a new canine, it's best if you do it solo. No other dogs. It can interfere with the bonding process, as well as affect their ability to learn..."

"So what happens to Sammy?" Starsky asked, sounding concerned.

"We look for somebody to take him in. I'll hate letting him go," Jake said honestly. "It's hard to imagine someone who would take him that's gonna measure up to my standards."

"How about an old ex-cop?" Starsky suggested.

"That'd be great. I'm not sure how to begin searching..."

Hutch knew what his partner was thinking, and decided to add his support.

"How about two ex-cops? Though I'm not sure I'd agree with the 'old' part," he amended.

The look he got from Starsky warmed his soul. Truthfully, Hutch knew Starsky had a soft spot for dogs, and had considered getting one for them. And this situation seemed to make more sense than trying to train a puppy.

"You mean it? You two? That'd be great!" Jake brightened, and clapped Hutch on the arm. "Sammy knows you guys and I know he'd feel comfortable with you. I'd feel a lot less like I was abandoning him if I knew... I mean — if you're sure."

Knowing that Jake was fighting conflicting emotions, Hutch leaned down to pet Samson in order to give the man a moment to collect his thoughts. He was, no doubt, feeling relief along with guilt and some worry.

"Sure, we're sure. He'll be great company now that we've got some extra time on our hands," Starsky assured him.

Looking back and forth between the detectives and Jake, Samson continued happily wagging his tail, as though he knew he was the subject of conversation. He then proceeded to roll on his back and expose his stomach.

"Yeah, and maybe he'll be able to keep this guy out of trouble," Hutch added as he reached across to accommodate Samson's desire for a belly rub. "You think you can manage that, Sam?"

Both men now crouched down, scratching and petting the dog, and their eyes met.

"Thanks," Starsky mouthed silently.

Hutch just gave a little nod. He had a good feeling about this decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next months, Starsky and Hutch settled into their new lives comfortably. The detective agency turned out to be a nice fit for them and they were grateful to find how well the fairly consistent working hours meshed with their home life.

Both men did what they could to ensure that Sam lived a fulfilling existence.

Hutch enjoyed having Sam for company on his morning jogs. He didn't tell Starsky, but he even talked to Samson sometimes when he felt melancholy and thought it beat the hell out of going to a shrink. He wasn't sure dogs could really understand humans. But, sometimes, he thought Samson seemed possess real empathy. Of course, intellectually, Hutch would dismiss those thoughts almost as quickly as they came.

Starsky loved to throw a Frisbee and have Samson catch it in mid-air. Always praising him and telling him he was the smartest and best dog in the world. For his part, Starsky never doubted that Samson knew exactly what he was saying or how he felt about things.

Together, the partners showered Samson with affection and treated him with respect and love.

Sometimes... too much.

"Starsky... What did we say about Samson sleeping on our bed?" Hutch asked one morning, having awoken to an armful of a hairy beast instead of his partner.

"Okay. I know that's one o'them rhetorical questions," Starsky sat up higher on the pillows, bare-chested. "'Cause we both know he's usually supposed to sleep in his dog bed..."

"Usually? I didn't realize there were stipulations. Care to enlighten me?" Not really angry, Hutch just liked to yank his partner's chain.

"Well this is what you might call a 'special circumstance'," Starsky explained, as though giving court testimony. "Did you hear that thunder last night? Nah, didn't think so. Just 'cause you can sleep through the storm of the century, doesn't mean we all can."

"Hey, I wake up for important stuff," Hutch countered.

"Yes," Starsky nudged Sam out of the way and kissed Hutch on the nose. "You do. And I'm more grateful than you know about that." Starsky waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his partner.

"Not in front of the dog, Gordo." But Hutch couldn't stifle his own grin.

Starsky sighed. "Anyway. It turns out Sam don't like thunder too much. I talked to Jake about it once; he said it's a new behavior since the shooting. I'm thinkin' it might be kinda like a dog-version of stress; kinda like what war vets get." Samson looked intently at Starsky as he spoke.

Hutch completely softened then, nuzzling the dog who snuffled a little into his hand. Starsky was trying to understand the dog-psyche and, in typical Starsky fashion, had been reading as many books and articles as he could find on the subject. Hutch had to love that about him.

"Okay. I can see where the shooting could be the source of some painful memories," Hutch allowed. "If dogs even have memories..." he added, quickly trying to correct himself, but it was too late. Starsky had him.

"You big softie. Knew you'd see it our way..."

"Well, I'm not sure I like the idea of you two conspiring against me here." Hutch held up his hands in defeat. "But I guess it's okay to allow him on our bed during thunderstorms," Hutch said in a put-upon tone that he knew Starsky didn't buy for a minute. "But, the storms over now so..."

"Yep, you're right, Blintz. C'mon Sammy. Time to get down."

Samson didn't need to be told twice. After jumping down, he paused just long enough for the partners to give him some pats then trotted off to his own bed in the other room.

"Wow. Look at all this room we have now," Hutch said in feigned wonder. "What do you suppose we should do with it?"

Starsky pounced and showed him, exactly, what they could do with the extra room. Twice.