The Anniversary

By

Mary Kay Hanus

What started out to be one of the nicest nights of Hutch's life turned into one of the longest...

Hutch set his fork on the plate and sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

"Have to hand it to you, Starsk," he smiled broadly.  "You sure make a mean...  what WAS it we had again?" Hutch frowned, a teasing smile at the corner of his lips.

Starsky, clearing the table, looked up through tired eyes.  "Get bent,” he muttered under his breath.  "You know damn well what we had.  And you must've liked it since your plate is empty." he added, picking up the plate from the table.  He set all the dirty dishes at the sink and began to run the water.

"You're welcome, by the way." he sighed over his shoulder.  "For whatever we had."  Hutch's smile transferred to Starsky's face, his back to Hutch.

"When are you gonna' break down and buy a dishwasher?" Hutch whined, sitting back in the creaking chair.

Starsky turned to look at his friend.  "You're lookin' at him.  Now, you gonna' get your butt up and help me or sit there all night?"

Hutch looked thoughtful.  "Sit." he decided, sipping his beer as he crossed his legs.

"Think again, pal." Starsky muttered, coming over to pull the chair out from under Hutch, causing him to stand unsteadily.

"Whoa, buddy!" Hutch laughed, saving his beer from splattering all over himself.  "Changed my mind, I'll help."

"I'll wash, you dry." Starsky yawned.

"Why?" Hutch frowned.

"'It’s my house, that's why." Starsky sighed again, squirting soap into the dishwater.

Hutch eyed Starsky with a frown.  "You 'kay?" he asked.  "You look beat."

Starsky yawned again, rubbing his eyes.  "'m 'kay." he sighed.  "Put too many hours in this week and I guess it all caught up to me."

Hutch knew Starsky had put in some extra hours the past week, going in early and staying late to get old paperwork done.  It was taking its' toll on his partner.  Hutch hated seeing him this way.

"Of course, cooking for YOU doesn't help any." Starsky grinned, his attention on the dishes in the sink.

"Don't bring ME into this, buddy!" Hutch warned, pointing his finger at his friend.  "I offered..."

"I know, I know..." Starsky chuckled, waving Hutch away with soapy hands.  "But you always cook for us, I just wanted to pay you back.  By the way, the arsenic should be kicking in anytime now."

Hutch set his glass down, picking up the towel and playfully punched his best friend in the shoulder.

"You wish."

"Hutch..." Starsky mumbled regretfully.  He never liked kidding about things like this; he was just tired and punchy.  It had been pouring rain outside all day - sunny California, my Aunt Fanny, Starsky had thought to himself.  And for the past couple of hours, it had turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm; complete with thunder, lightening and everything else Mother Nature could throw at them.  It bothered Starsky; he'd hated storms of this magnitude and knew he always would.  He was grateful for Hutchs' company, but he knew that Hutch wouldn't be there all night, and he was dreading when the time came for Hutch to have to go home.

Starsky winced with the next flash of lightening coming through the window over the sink and stayed himself for the rattle of thunder that followed.

Hutch frowned slightly, watching his partner out of the corner of his eye as he wiped a glass that Starsky handed him.  He knew Starsky hated storms and he had done his best to hang around his partner when they came up, but he couldn't ALWAYS be there.  Those were times when Hutch thought of nothing BUT his best friend and did his best to at least keep in contact with him by phone, to get Starsky's mind off it all.  He just wished he knew WHY they bothered him so much...  Starsk had never spoken of it, and Hutch never pried.

"So...  you get all your paperwork done?" Hutch asked, changing the subject, concentrating on the silverware in his hands.

"I thought so," Starsky sighed, handing a plate to Hutch.  "But according to Dobey, I..."

He was interrupted by a splash of water that covered him, head to chest.  Hutch didn't have a good grip on the plate Starsky had handed him, and it dropped back into the water, splashing soapy water all over his friend, not to mention the floor around him.  Hutch couldn't help but laugh, seeing suds on the face of his friend.

"You look like a Jewish Santa!" he snickered, pointing.

But Starsky was mad.  He was certain Hutch did that on purpose.

"That's REAL funny, pal..." Starsky growled, picking up the dishrag, dripping with water as he wiped the water from his face.

"Now, Starsk..." Hutch warned, trying hard not to laugh anymore.  He knew his friend was furious.  "It was an accident, honest!"  Hutch began to back up, holding his hands out protectively in front of him, knowing what was about to happen.

What ensued over the next few minutes was a war with water flying everywhere, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere.  Both men were playing at first, but things began to get serious.  Tempers were flaring.  Then it all took a turn for the worse...

Hutch lunged for Starsky, forcing his friend to step backwards, right into a soapy puddle of water on the linoleum.  Starsky's Adidas shoes lost any grip they had and he tumbled backwards, hitting his forehead on the corner of the countertop.  Landing hard on the floor, he smacked his head, knocking himself out with a groan.

Hutch stood over him, trying to catch his breath.  He frowned at his friend lying awkwardly on the floor, unmoving and now bleeding from a cut on his forehead that was already turning a nasty shade of purple.

"Starsk?" he whispered, his voice trembling as he fell to his knees.  "Oh my God..."

Leaning over his friend, Hutch tenderly lifted Starsky's head and set it in his lap; blood flowed freely from the gash on his head and Hutch could feel a lump coming up through Starskys' curls.  Hutchs' hands shook as he turned Starsky onto his back and jumped up to get a handful of ice from the freezer to wrap in the towel Hutch had been using.  Kneeling down again, he lifted Starskys' head and gently set the makeshift ice bag on the back of Starskys' neck.

"Starsk." he pleaded, tears coming to his eyes.  "Please, buddy, wake up, please!"  He tenderly rubbed Starskys' arms and shoulders, shaking him.  Lightening once again lit up the kitchen and a roll of thunder followed, shaking the house.  The storm was getting closer and building in intensity.  Hutch flinched with the thought.

His attention was drawn to the form on the kitchen floor.  Starsky was conscious again, moaning with the pain as blood flowed down the side of his face.  "Hu...  Hush..." he whispered in a shaky voice as he tried to open his eyes.  "What...  happened?" his voice slurred as he tried to get up.

"No, Starsk, don't, just lie there for a minute." Hutch ordered, angrily wiping his eyes with the back of one hand as he pushed Starsky back down with the other.

"My head.." Starsky moaned.

"'It’s my fault," Hutch shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Starsk, it's all my fault, I pushed you back and you slipped in some water and bashed your head on the countertop."

"Hutch, stop shouting..." Starsky whispered as he grimaced, lifting his hand to the side of his head.  Pulling it away, he found it covered with blood, HIS blood.

"Ohh..." he moaned again.

"Starsk, let me help you up, let's get you to the couch." Hutch ordered, standing and holding his hands out.  But Starsky could barely move.  Hutch knelt once again and wrapped his arms around his friend, lifting him slowly, tenderly, carefully.

"Let me know when this hurts, Star..."

"It hurts."

Hutch made a face.  At least his friend didn't lose his sense of humour.  "Let's get off this wet floor, just let me do all the work."

Starsky grabbed Hutchs' arms as tight as he could, but the moment he was up, he was light-headed and felt like passing out again.  Hutch wrapped an arm around Starsky's waist and pulled his friends' arm around his shoulder.  It took forever, but Hutch eventually got Starsk to the sofa in the darkened living room.  Carefully, he let his friend fall to the cushions and laid out his legs, putting a pillow under his head.

"No..." Starsky frowned.  "Wanna' sit up, head hurts..."

"Okay, okay, hang on a sec." Hutch ordered, running into the kitchen to retrieve the ice bag and a towel.  "Stop moving around so much, would ya'?" Starsky begged.  Coming back to sit next to Starsky, Hutch gently tugged on his arm to pull him closer and carefully wiped the trail of blood from the gash.  Peering closely, Hutch could see the bleeding had stopped, but the gash looked terrible, it turned Hutchs' stomach.  Shaking his head, Hutch frowned.

"I'm sorry, buddy, I never meant for this to happen..." he sighed.  "I'm not sure but I think you have a concussion.  I'm gonna' call your doctor." he said as he reached for the phone.

"Hutch..." Starsky moaned.  "I don't feel well..." he said, swallowing hard, as he leaned his pounding head on Hutchs' shoulder.

"I know, pal, I know, let me see what the doc says."

After dialling the phone number, Hutch waited for the doctor to answer.  Starsky listened to a one-sided conversation through a haze, his head pounding.  It sounded as though Hutch were miles away.  He wished Hutch would hurry, he felt terrible and wanted Hutchs' attention.  He could still hear the growing thunderstorm and that didn't make him feel any better.

As he finally hung up the phone, Hutch turned to see Starsky breathing heavier and sweat pouring down his face.

"Doc said it's a concussion but with the storm raging outside he doesn't want us in the car driving in it.  He wants me to keep you awake through the night." he sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Here, let me wipe your face." he offered, carefully wiping the sweat from his friends' face.  "C'mon, Starsk, you've got to calm down, breathe normal for me..."

"Hutch..." Starsky moaned.  "Aw, Hutch..."

Pulling on his arm, Hutch drew his friend closer to him, rubbing his arms.  "Lift your legs,” he ordered, getting Starsky to lie on the sofa, his head resting on Hutchs' shoulder.  Slowly, he set the ice bag on the back of Starskys' neck, Starsky pulling away with a jerk.  It was the fastest Hutch had ever seen his friend move.

"Sorry, buddy, but it'll help, I promise." Hutch whispered.  Leaning back, Hutch pulled a blanket that lay on the back of the sofa and tossed it over Starsky, covering him from his neck to his feet.

"C'mon, lean against me and try to relax." Hutch suggested.

"'M tired, Hutch," Starsky muttered, his eyes slowly closing as he leaned his pounding head on his friends' shoulder.

"No," Hutch ordered.  "Don't relax THAT much!  Doc says you have to stay awake."

"Can't." Starsky mumbled.  "Please, Hutch, wanna' sleep..." Starskys' body went limp against Hutch.  Sitting up straight, Hutch grabbed Starskys' shoulders.  "NO!" he shouted, causing Starsky to wince at his booming voice.

"Stop, please!" Starsky begged, raising a hand to his pounding forehead.

"I'm sorry, Starsk," Hutch shook his head.  "You've got to stay with me.  I know you're tired, but you've GOT to listen to me."

From under the blanket, Starskys' hand appeared, reaching blindly for Hutch who grabbed the flailing hand and held it tightly.

"I really DID drop the plate, Starsk." Hutch sighed quietly.  "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know, Blintz, I know..." Starskys' voice trailed off as he blinked the sleep and pain from his eyes.  Hutch needed him to stay awake, and he was going to do everything in his power to do so.  Starsky held onto Hutch's hand tightly, his hand trembling a bit which made Hutch feel all the worse.

Snapping his fingers, Hutch had an idea.  "Coffee!" he exclaimed brightly.

Starsky frowned.  "Huh?" he whispered.  Sometimes Hutch could be very confusing.

"I'll go make you some coffee, that should wake you up!" and with that, Hutch let go of the hold on Starskys' hand and got up from the sofa to make his way into the kitchen.  But as he made it through the doorway, there was a bright flash of light outside quickly followed by a rumble of thunder that shook the house viciously, knocking out all the lights that had been on.

Besides the crack of the thunder, the only sound Hutch could hear was his partners' voice calling, shouting his name over and over again.  "Might try paying your utility bill, buddy." Hutch shouted out to Starsky, trying to lighten the mood.

Hutch looked up and back towards the living room, but before he made his way back in the darkness, he felt the countertop until he made out a lower cupboard and drew out a small transistor radio he knew Starsk kept there.  Next to the radio was a flashlight that Hutch also grabbed.  Feeling his way back, he switched on the radio to a station carrying the weather...

"...  might want to plan to stay inside, as there's sure to be a flood warning to follow this deluge...  never seen anything like this..." the announcers' voice on the radio crackled in and out.  Hutch turned the volume down so only he could hear it.  His friend needn't know how bad the storm was outside, that would only serve to worry him all the more.

Starsky felt a strong hand squeezing his shoulder - Hutch.  "It's okay, buddy, I'm here with ya'." he spoke over the rumbling of the thunder.  Carefully making his way to the far side of the living room to look out the windows, Hutch manuevered amongst the furniture that he could no longer see, hoping Starsky hadn't moved anything around since the last time he was there.  Unfortunately, Starsky HAD moved a single piece, an end table that Hutch found with his shin.  Hard.

"GodDAMN!" Hutch hissed, rubbing his leg.  "When did you move THAT piece of shit!?"  He could swear he heard Starsky chuckling behind him.

"Did it just for you, buddy..." Starsky muttered, pain in his voice.  There was that sick sense of humour again, Hutch thought, trying to shake the stars that he was seeing.  There was gonna' be one helluva welt there tomorrow.

But not as bad as the bump Starsky was gonna' have, Hutch thought guiltily.  And here he was, complaining about stumbling over furniture...

Hutch winced at the lightening that came through the window, turning away from the blinding light.  God, if it was possible, it was getting worse out there.  Water was pouring down the window so heavily; Hutch couldn't even make out the cars in the street below him.  It was black as far as he could see, a major blackout.

Starsky laid his sore, throbbing head back on the sofa, pulling the blanket up around himself as he shook uncontrollably and swallowed hard.  "See anything out there?" he asked.

Hutch turned towards the voice.  "Nah.  Everything's out.  Looks like we're stuck in the dark for a while."

Hutch knew that wasn't what Starsky wanted to hear.  He regretted it the minute the words came out of his mouth.  He wondered how freaked Starsk really was, and why.  Hutch knew after all this was over, he would have to sit his friend down and have a long, long talk.  Hutch, meanwhile, turned back to the window.

"Hutch..." he heard a trembling voice behind him.  "I need you."

Hutch turned back with a frown.  Starsky had never spoken those words; usually they could look into each other’s faces, each other's eyes and just KNOW.  Starsky sounded more frightened than Hutch had ever know him to sound, even in their worst nightmares.

"I'm here, buddy," Hutch called soothingly, making his way gingerly across the room, making sure to avoid the killer end table.  His shin was throbbing as he put weight on it, and he felt a warm trickle running down his leg, it must be bleeding under his jeans, he thought.

Shit.

Hutch sat carefully next to Starsky, then and only then remembering the flashlight in his hand.  Duh.  Talk about a dumb blond, Hutch thought to himself.  Frowning, another thought came to him.  "You have some matches and a candle, Starsk?" he asked.

Starsky winced, thinking.  But he didn't answer Hutch.  His head hurt too much to think.

Hutch began to stand, heading for the kitchen to look for himself in the drawers, but it was at that moment that the largest and by far, the closest strike of lightening chose to hit the ground; a deafening crack that literally shook framed photos off the walls in Starskys' house.

Hutch was but a few feet away when he heard screaming, his best friends' screaming, his name over and over again, sheer terror in his voice.

Dropping the radio and the flashlight, Hutch immediately made his way to Starsky, falling beside him, taking the trembling figure into his arms and embraced him tightly, protectively.

"I'm here, babe,” he murmured gently into Starskys' ear, trying to be heard over Starskys' hysterical screaming.  Hutch ran his hands up and down Starskys' back, rocking him back and forth.  "Ssh, buddy, it's okay, I'm here for you, ssh..."

Tears were streaming down Starskys' face as he clung to Hutch.  "Make... make it stop, Hutch..." he begged, sobs turning into hiccups.

"Starsk, try to calm down, for me, please..." Hutch wrapped his arms even tighter around his friend. He wished he knew what to do, Starsky was really losing his sanity at this point, and Hutch was at a loss as to what to do to calm him down.  Even though it was dim in the room with the lights out, his eyes adjusted enough that Hutch could still make out Starsky next to him.  Pulling away, Hutch grabbed Starskys' face in his hands, forcing him to look directly in the eyes.

"Starsk?  Look at me." Hutch ordered.  "LOOK AT ME!"

Starskys' sobs subsided, now full fledged hiccups as he looked up innocently into his friends' eyes, waiting for Hutch to speak again.

"Everything is going to be all right," Hutch said sternly.  "It's just a storm.  Now I don't know why they freak you out so much, and one of these days you're GOING to explain it to me," he said through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at him.  Starsky flinched, as though struck by Hutchs' own hand.

Hutch softened, his heart breaking at the fearful look on his friends' face, a look Hutch caused.  A look he hated to see.

Sighing heavily, Hutch once again pulled Starsky close.  "I'm SO sorry, babe." Hutch spoke in a trembling voice, closing his eyes tight.  "I'm so, so sorry."  He knew he'd crossed the line, bringing up Starskys' fears.  His hand on the back of Starskys' head, Hutch carefully and tenderly pulled his friend to his shoulder, stroking his neck.

"This is all my fault," Hutch sighed again, looking up to the ceiling, tears rolling freely down his cheeks.  He felt Starsky grab a hold of his shirt and hold on tight, pulling on it as if it were his only link to sanity and safety.

"Don't leave me, Hutch," Starsky begged in a tiny voice.  Hutch had never heard his best friend so scared, so vulnerable.  Starsky was always from the streets, where Hutch was from a pampered, protected background.  He never wanted for anything, but Starskys' life had been much, much different, and Hutch knew him to be a strong person.  At least he'd THOUGHT his friend and partner was strong.  But here a simple thing as a thunderstorm was breaking his will.  Hutch wished he didn't have to witness this, but as much as Starsky needed him, he wouldn't be anywhere else but next to his best friend.  Hutch shuddered at the thought that, had he left Starskys' house before the storm hit its' peak, God only knows what kind of personal hell his partner would be going through right now, alone.  No, there was no way Hutch would leave until the morning light.

"You 'kay, buddy?" Hutch asked, squeezing Starskys' arm.  "You're awfully quiet all of a sudden."

"Feel stupid." Starsky sniffed, pushing up even closer to Hutch.

Smiling, Hutch tilted his head back.

"Don't." was all he simply said, shaking his head.  "Promise you, nothing leaves this house."

"Thanks, Hutch." Starsky whispered.  It seemed like a lifetime went by before Starsky went on.  "Don't know why, Hutch,” he said, referring to his fear of storms.

"Something must've happened in your past." Hutch suggested, once again pulling the blanket up that had slipped to the floor.  "Maybe... maybe it was so traumatic to you, you spaced it after all this time.  We could always talk to your mother.  Or maybe a hypnotist..." he offered.

Starsky shook his head.  "I'm not ready yet, Hutch." his voice trembled.  "Just please...  don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere." Hutch promised, wincing at more thunder and lightening that momentarily lit the room.

"Hutch, my head..." Starsky moaned again, pulling even harder on Hutchs' shirt, enough that Hutch thought his friend would tear it.

"Easy, partner," Hutch put his hand over Starskys' as he searched the sofa for the towel of ice.  "Let's put this back on your neck, it'll help, I promise." as he applied the ice to the bump.

"'n you never break your promise, right?" Starsky ventured with a chuckle that turned into another groan.  "Oh, gotta' stop doing that."

"You kiddin'?" Hutch smiled.  "I LOVE to hear you laugh."

Hutch bent over to find the flashlight that had rolled partway under the sofa.  "Let's take a look at that cut." he frowned, switching on the flashlight and peering closely at Starskys' forehead.  The bleeding had stopped but the area was swollen and turning purple.  "Man, that's gotta' hurt..." Hutch muttered to no one in particular.

"It does." Starsky sighed, pain in his voice as he lifted his free hand to gingerly touch the area.

Hutchs' feelings of guilt came back with a vengeance.  Best to change the subject.

"How about shadow puppets?" he offered, using the still lit flashlight to make the inevitable bunny ears with his free hand against the far wall.

Starsky grinned and laughed through the pain.  "Stop!  You're killin' me, Blondie!" he snickered.

"That's more like it." Hutch nodded approvingly.  He was trying to keep his friends' mind off his pain, the pain Hutch himself caused, plus the storm.  And he had to keep Starsky awake.  The doctor had told him, keep him awake for at least two or three hours keep checking his pupils and to call the minute Starsky began to act "strangely".  A hard call, Hutch thought to himself.  An idea came to Hutch.

"Want me to sing to you?" Hutch offered brightly, turning to look at Starsky.

Starsky blinked up at his friend.  "Thought you wanted me to stay awake,” he said dryly, bringing a look of disgust from Hutch.

"Very funny."

Starsky lowered his head, burrowing closer to Hutchs' neck.  "Sorry, Hutch," he literally whispered.  Again, he felt bad about kidding his friend like this, especially when he knew Hutch could've very easily left after dinner, leaving Starsky to deal with the storm on his own.  But Hutch was a good friend, his best friend.  Maybe more than Starsky deserved.  His brother in life.  And he knew Hutch would never leave Starskys' side until he knew his friend was okay, physically, mentally, emotionally.

Hutch leaned his head over to rest his chin on top of Starskys' curls.

"Listen, babe," Hutch began with a sigh.  "You know how I feel about you.  You never, I repeat, never have to apologize to me.  For anything." Hutch tried hard to keep his own voice level, quiet.  Starsky was feeling bad enough as it was, he didn't need to make matters worse.

Change the subject, Hutchinson, Hutch thought to himself.  "Think I'm gonna' get some dressings and clean up that cut." he suggested, getting up from the sofa, careful not to move Starsky too much.  No sense giving him MORE of a headache...

"I'll come with you." Starsky volunteered, a little too quickly for Hutchs' taste.

"No, Gordo," Hutch shook his head, hovering over his friend, his hands on his hips.  "You stay here, I'll be right back, promise."

Using the flashlight to light his way, Hutch carefully made his way to the bathroom.  He really didn't need to run his other shin into another moved piece of furniture, one sore leg was enough, thank you very much.

Turning back to Starsky, he softened his voice.  "'t's okay, buddy, I'm not leaving you.  Just take it easy."  Starsky nodded slowly, breathing deep.  He knew he was being silly, a grown man afraid of facing a storm on his own.  But he really needed the comfort of his best friend.  "Don't be long, huh?" Starsky whispered between strikes of thunder.

Hutch smiled warmly.  Turning back he found his way to the bathroom and collecting an armload of items from Starskys' medicine cabinet, made his way back to his friend.  By the time he got back to the sofa, a mere few minutes later, he could tell by the frightened look on his pals' face that it had been an ETERNITY to HIM.

"See?" he smiled again.  "Told you I'd be right back.  Now lie your head back on the sofa, I need to get to that cut."

Gulping hard, Starsky did as he was told, grimacing with every movement of his head.  He didn't think Hutch understood just how much his head hurt him, how much it pounded.  He was sorry now that he'd eaten so much dinner, he had a sneaking feeling he would be saying sayonara, arrivaderchi and so long to it before too long if the eighteen-wheeler rig in his head kept up its' rumbling much longer.

Starsky licked his dry lips.

"You ready?" Hutch asked warily, holding cotton squares in mid air.

Starsky nodded carefully, uncertain.  "Knock yourself out.  Or rather, knock ME out..." he chuckled, bracing for the sting to come.  "Please."

"Here," Hutch suggested, offering the front of his open shirt he wore over his t-shirt.  "Hang onto this, tug as hard as you want."  Better that than his arm, Hutch thought to himself.

But before the cotton in his hand could make contact with the gash on Starskys' head, he grabbed Hutchs' wrist weakly.

"Hutch?" he asked, pleadingly, his eyes betraying him.  Nothing was said, nothing need be said.

"Okay, partner." Hutch gave in with a sly, knowing smile, patting Starskys' hand.  Using the flashlight, Hutch make his way carefully over to the cabinet where he knew Starsky kept the hard liquor he rarely touched, only on special occasions.  Like Hutch, Starsky was more of a beer man.  Squatting down, he dug through the bottles and brought out an unopened bottle of the best whisky Starsky had.

Hutch twisted open the top as he sat across from his friend on the coffee table.  "Glass?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.  But Starsky shook his head with a frown.  "Give it,” he ordered, holding out his trembling hand.

"You know, this is gonna' kill the pain, for now." Hutch warned, eyeing his partner chugging the liquor, burning his throat.  "But in a few hours, you're gonna' be one sorry son of a bitch." he finished with a sigh, shaking his head.

"You think I don't know that!?" Starsky shot back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.  He saw a glimmer of hurt in his partners' eyes.

"'m sorry..." Starsky whispered.  "'m sorry, Hutch, 'm sorry..." he repeated over and over, tears coming to his eyes as the liquor began to set in.

"Hey, hey," Hutch admonished, grabbing the bottle away from Starsky.  "What did I just tell you about apologizing to me, huh?"  Hutch was trying to help, but he was beginning to lose patience.  And the guilt he felt about the whole night was building in the back of his mind.  If it weren't for him, Starsky wouldn't be going through all this crap...

"Here, buddy, hold this on your neck." Hutch ordered quietly, holding out the ice filled towel to Starsky.  He figured giving his friend something to do might take his mind off what HUTCH was about to do.

"That hurts." Starsky muttered, frowning as he set the makeshift ice bag on the lump on the back of his head.  "Umm..."

The minute the cotton even touched the cut on Starskys' forehead, the pain shot through him from head to toe.  Starsky pulled so hard on the shirt in his hands, he literally pulled Hutch down to meet him face to face.  Hutch was taken aback, losing his footing and landed hard on his knees in front of Starsky.

"YEOW!!!" they both yelled in unison, both in pain for very different reasons.  Starsky looked up into Hutchs' eyes.  "Sorry, Hutch!" he apologized sincerely.  Hutch rubbed his sore knees with one hand - he could feel Starskys' grip still on his shirt, his hands shaking, trembling.  Hutch was going to take the usual route, but changed his mind at the last moment.

"GodDAMN it, Starsky!!!" his voice bellowed in the quiet of the house, pulling his shirt away, ripping it from Starskys' hands.  "Stop snivelling like the baby you are and take it like a man!!!"

Starsky was taken aback, his eyes wide as saucers, the normally brilliant blue now dimmed.  Before he realized it, Hutch was holding a sobbing Starsky in his arms, warm, salty tears quickly soaking his shoulder.  "So much for good cop, bad cop..." Hutch sighed, hugging his best friend tightly, rubbing Starskys' back.

"Starsk..." Hutch sighed again, pulling away to look closely at his friend.  Holding Starskys' face in his hands, he frowned, his brows creased.

"Starsk, look at me." he ordered.  Starsky still had tears running down his face, his eyes bloodshot, mere slits of dim blue.  He tried to look Hutch in his eyes, but he was so tired, so so tired.  His head throbbed, his ears rang and he wasn't certain anymore if there were one Hutch in front of him or two.

"Starsk!", Hutch shouted louder to get Starskys' attention.

Sounded like two Hutches...

Starsky drew a sharp breath, a single hiccup escaping his lips as he stared at his friend, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But Hutch merely smiled warmly, softly rubbing Starskys' cheeks with his thumbs.

"I'm sorry, Starsk." he sighed.  "We're both tired.  Friends?"

Starsky frowned and his hands once again felt for his friends' shirt.  "Hutch, you're my BEST friend," he began.  "My BEST friend."  He looked up into Hutchs' eyes and tugged again on the shirt.  "Go 'head," he directed in a small voice, motioning to the cotton next to Hutch, and set his jaw tightly, leaning his head back.

"I'll try to be more careful." Hutch promised.  "Need more whiskey?"

"Maybe...  yeah." Starsky nodded.  "Just a little more."

Hutch once again handed the bottle to his friend.  "Easy," he directed quietly, squeezing Starskys' shoulder as his friend tilted the bottle back with a shaky hand.  "A LITTLE more?" Hutch raised his eyebrows as he pulled the bottle from Starskys' grip.

This time Hutch WAS more careful, gently dabbing at the gash, and Starsky WAS more tolerant of the pain.  Hutch smiled warmly, looking deep into Starskys' eyes as he put a large piece of gauze over the wound with strips of white tape.  "'m proud of you, Gordo." he mumbled.

Even though Starsky smiled back, Hutch could see the pain deep in those blue eyes.  Hutch once again squeezed Starskys' shoulder, moving his hand down to squeeze his am.  "Be right back, gonna' get rid of this stuff."

Starsky nodded, closing his eyes and dropping his head back to rest on the sofa.  He lifted one hand to gently brush Hutchs' arm and the other to carefully touch the now bandaged wound.  "Don't be too long?" he whispered, swallowing hard.  "'m not feelin' too good..."  The whiskey was beginning to kick in by now, his head pounding, his ears ringing, his vision blurred.  "... need you." he finished, peering at Hutch through one slitted eye.

"Won't be long." Hutch shook his head as he made his way back to the bathroom to replace the medicines and gauze in the cabinet.  Holding the fading flashlight under his arm, he bent over the sink to wash his hands - he could see the pinkish water running down the drain...  his stomach flip-flopped seeing Starskys' blood on his hands.  Swallowing hard, Hutch leaned on the edge of the sink and looked up into the dimness of the mirror.  The image he saw didn't even look like himself, the person in the mirror looked tired, very tired...

But he brushed away the self-pity he felt, he knew Starsky was in more pain and was ten times more tired than Hutch himself, he could tell even over dinner.  Starskys' eyes, usually flashing mischievously, were dim and bloodshot.  Starsk was overworked (and underpaid, Hutch could hear his friend even now).  Hutch chuckled as he leaned over to splash his face with cold water - it was early, only 10:00 according to the clock on the shelf above him, and according to the doctors' orders, it was up to Hutch to keep his friend awake, at least for a few hours, just to be on the safe side.  And Hutch was tired already.  The beers he'd had with his dinner were starting to kick in, but he couldn't afford to even SEEM tired in front of Starsky - that would, in turn, make Starsky tired.  And the doc didn't want that.  Hutch had orders to phone the doctor sometime after midnight to let him know how the patient was doing, and he would decide from there if Starsky could finally sleep.  Midnight.  Hutch glanced at the clock as he wiped a towel over his face.  It seemed like such a long time away.  How was he going to keep Starsky awake that long?  Watching a movie on TV normally zonked Starsky out, and with no electricity, that wasn't an option anyway.  No, Hutch was going to have to keep Starsk awake with plain old conversation.  Sighing and shaking his head, Hutch wished he were at home, HIS home, asleep in HIS bed, but he knew his friend needed him.

Needed him.  Hutch thought frowning.  How long had he been in the bathroom?  He hadn't heard any sounds from the living room where he had left his friend.  Tossing the towel aside, Hutch took hold of the dimming flashlight and made his way carefully back to the sofa.  No sounds emitted from the room, just the thunder outside, still building in intensity, still shaking the house.  But no sounds from Starsky.

Coming closer, Hutch flashed the light onto his friend to reveal a soundly sleeping figure.  Starskys' head had fallen to the side, in an awkward looking position, his right arm had fallen to lie, palm upturned, onto the spot where Hutch had been sitting, his left hand lying across his chest, which rose and fell softly with his even breathing.

"Aw, Starsk..." Hutch sighed quietly as he picked up Starskys' limp hand that lie on the sofa and sat down.  He hated what he had to do.  "Starsk?  Buddy?" he called tenderly, not wanting to startle his partner.  Squeezing Starskys' hand, Hutch gently patted Starskys' cheeks in an effort to waken his partner.  "C'mon, Starsk, wake up."

"Wha...  what?" Starsky muttered, his eyes fluttering open as he lifted his head from the back of the sofa.  "Oh, my head..." he whimpered, raising his hand from his chest to his forehead, lying his head back again.  Looking up into Hutchs' worried eyes, he blinked away the blurriness in his own.  "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, buddy." Hutch smiled warmly.  "But remember what I told you, what the doc said?" he asked, squeezing his friends' hand.  "You've got to stay awake for a while, think you can do that for me, buddy?"  Maybe thinking he was doing it for Hutch and not the doctor would make Starsky try all the harder to stay awake, Hutch thought hopefully.

"I'll try." Starsky smiled tiredly, his eyes closing.

"I'm gonna' try to find some candles, Gordo," Hutch decided, "This flashlight won't last much longer and it doesn't look as though we're gonna' have lights anytime soon."

Making his way back into the kitchen, Hutch searched the cabinets and drawers, smacking the dying flashlight a few times to keep it going.  "D'ja ever think about maybe buying some new batteries once in a while, kiddo?" he called to Starsky, starting to get annoyed by the flashlight.  Finally, with the first bit of luck of the night, Hutch found three pillar candles and some matches just as the flashlight finally dimmed and died.  Tossing the dead soldier onto the countertop, he grabbed up his find and very carefully turned, trying to gain his bearings in the now total darkness before taking any steps.  He still felt the throbbing of the smack to his shin and wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance anytime soon.  He didn't linger too long, though, as it was then he'd heard Starskys' weak but scared voice call from the other room. 

"Hutch?  HUTCH?!" he called out in fear.  Starsky was once again in darkness but this time he wasn't asleep.  Hutch didn't want him to sleep, but he couldn't remember why, he just knew it was important to his partner, and he wanted to please Hutch.  Hutch...

"Hutch!" he shouted again, wildly feeling for someone, anyone or anything in the darkness.

"I'm coming, Starsk!" Hutch shouted back.  "Hold on, buddy!"

Quickly striking one of the matches, Hutch lit one of the candles he held in his trembling hand.  He felt so bad for Starsky.  Starsky who could take a bullet at one moment and be hitting on a nurse the next.  But as steadfast and streetwise as Starsky seemed, there were things that scared him into a little lost boy again, and things just seemed to be getting worse for him.

Rounding the corner, Hutch carried the candles, lit and unlit, and kept up a running one way conversation, trying to calm Starsky down.

"See, told you I'd be right back." he smiled, setting the lit candle on the coffee table in front of them.  Hurriedly, he lit the other two candles, setting them all together to make what he hoped would be a brighter light, and blew out the match before it had a chance to burn his fingers.

"You 'kay?" he asked, touching Starskys' arm.  Thanks to the candlelight that was now growing as the flames licked toward the ceiling, Hutch could actually see Starskys' face, and the fear that now shone on it.  "Starsk?" he prodded, now squeezing Starskys' arm.

Starsky broke his stare from the flames to his friends' face.  Perspiration was now running down his face in beads, and his bottom lip trembled as he looked into Hutchs' eyes as though searching for something.

"I'm scared, Hutch." he said, barely above a whisper.

"Hey, what's there to be scared about?" Hutch frowned.  "I'm here with you and I won't leave until you want me to,” he whispered back.  "C'mon, lean back against my shoulder." he suggested, tugging on a pillow that lie on the other side of Starsky and propping it up on his left side for his friend to lean against.  It hurt Starskys' head to even move, but he did as Hutch said and moved closer to lay his head on the pillow and his friends' shoulder.

It felt good.  It felt right and Starsky did feel safe.  Burrowing closer to Hutch, he felt the warmth of his partners' body and instantly felt calm.

"That better?" Hutch asked softly, using his sleeve to wipe away the sweat pouring down Starskys' face.

"Um hmm." Starsky nodded, closing his eyes.  He remembered why Hutch was his best friend in the world.  Not that he'd ever forget, not a chance.

Hutch leaned over.  "'kay now, Starsk, you can close your eyes, but remember, no sleeping, 'kay?  Not just yet, maybe later."

"'kay, Hutch." Starsky sighed, pushing even closer until his head was right under Hutchs' chin.  Wrapping a protective arm around his friend, Hutch sighed as well.  This was as good a time as any to begin...

"Starsk, remember the last time you told me you were scared?" he asked.  "The first and last time."

"When I was poisoned." Starsky offered after a long silence.  His words were slurring with the effects of the whiskey.  But at least he was trying to stay awake, Hutch thought with a smile.  Good boy, Starsk...

"Yep.  And we made it, YOU made it.  So see, there's nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not scared when I know you're around, Hutch," Starsky explained, matter of fatly.  "It's when you're NOT around that it scares me."

Hutch frowned.  "Hmm?" he asked.

"Like when you're out driving and roll your heap down a hill?" Starsky reminded him.

"Oh yeah," Hutch nodded, recalled that incident.  Just the thought made Hutchs' leg hurt.  "Talk about being scared, I didn't think I was ever gonna' see your ugly mug again." he chuckled,

"I think I aged twenty years, thanks to you." Starsky yawned.  "Between that time and when I was poisoned...  I couldn't take knowing I may never see you again.  That's what scares me, Hutch." Starskys' hand flailed tiredly as Hutch took hold and squeezed it tightly.

"You're not gonna' lose me, partner." Hutch assured him.  "You're stuck with me."

"That's not the way I felt when Forest got to you." Starsky said, squeezing Hutchs' hand back.  Tired or not, Starsk still had some strength left in him.

Hutch absently turned to his arm draped over his friend.  Hard to believe it was only a year and a half since Hutch went through that nightmare.  But he had Starskys' friendship to help him overcome his addiction.

"That's all in the past, Starsk." Hutch said soothingly.

Moments passed before either spoke.

"Whatcha' thinkin'  'bout?" Starskys' words slurred.

"Well," Hutch sighed.  "I realized how close I'VE come to losing YOU, too, buddy."  Hutch shivered at the picture forever etched in his mind of his wounded friend, bleeding to death in front of him at the Italian restaurant Starsky insisted they visit.  Hutch still had nightmares from that, but never told Starsky.  He thought he was going to lose Starsky that night; his friend came SO close to death...

"The Italian restaurant, Simon Marcus." Hutch listed, naming the Manson wannabe who kidnapped Starsky and nearly killed him.  Hutch found his partner in the nick of time on that one.  Starsky came this close to being a human shish kabob, thanks to Marcus' brainwashed cult members.  Starsky had clung to Hutch, never happier to see him.  "Need I say more?"

"You came through for me then." Starsky sighed, changing positions so he could nuzzle even closer to Hutch.  The room was beginning to chill and the warmth from Hutchs' body felt so good.

Hutch stared, hypnotized at the flames.  "You came through for me plenty of times, too, buddy.  Diana Harmon?"  Talk about a human shish kabob, Hutch thought to himself.  "If you hadn't found me when she broke into my house..." his voice trailed off.  He'd never been afraid of a woman before, but Diana Harmon wasn't LIKE most women.

"That was around the time you and I decided to play Hide and Seek, wasn't it?" Starsky peeked open an eye at Hutch.

"Ugh, don't remind me!" Hutch shuddered.  "I still can't eat clam chowder to this day."  A moment passed before Hutch pulled back a bit to peer curiously down at his partner.  "That's not what we had for dinner tonight, was it?" he asked.

Starsky chuckled in spite of himself.  "Shut up, turkey." he mumbled, rubbing his sore eyes with a fist.  More silence.

"I think the worst was the plague." Starsky swallowed hard, squeezing Hutchs' hand with all the strength he could muster.  "I felt so helpless..." his voice caught as he spoke.  Hutch knew his friend was crying.

"Hey, hey now..." he admonished softly.  "That's all in the past, I'm okay now.  You can't lose me that easily!"

"Hutch..." was all Starsky could get out.

But Hutch was lost in his own world.  "The worst," he thought to himself.  He knew what the worst was for him.  Just a year ago...

"Hutch?" Starsky asked quietly.

"Huh?" Hutch came out of his reverie.  "Oh yeah, was just thinking..." Hutch trembled at the thought.  The closest either had come...

"Gunther." was all he mumbled, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice.  Gunther, who had tried to have Starsky killed, and who had come so close, SO close...  Impulsively, Hutch wrapped his arm even tighter around his friend and pulled him closer.  Hutchs' mind raced.  He could still hear the gunshots; still see the blood, SO much blood.  Even the doctor himself admitted that Starsky was a miracle, he'd never seen such massive injuries, such a loss of blood and yet Starsky lived.

Hutch himself had given up.  He'd written his friend off, goodbye, so long, farewell.  Dobey hadn't given up.  Huggy hadn't given up.  But Hutch, ever the realist, gave up.  Even Starsky nearly gave up once, his heart giving out.  Hutch was so sure he was going to lose his best friend, Hutch had secretly thought of ways to kill himself, he knew he couldn't go on, not without his friend, his brother, it was like losing a part of himself.  Maybe he'd drive Starsks' Torino to a hilltop overlooking the city lights and empty his Magnum into his body.  Naw, Starsky wouldn't like him messing up his treasured car like that, too messy.  Maybe parking it in a garage with the motor running and just drift off into a never-ending slumber.  Yeah, Hutchinson, way to go, he thought disgustedly, take the cowards' way out, pain free while Starsky fought for his life.

Starsky had been calling Hutchs' name and tugging on the shirt he'd come to consider a security blanket this evening, but Hutch was in dreamland.

"Wha....  what?" Hutch frowned, shaking his head back to the present.  His eyes meeting Starskys'.  Hutch instantly knew.  It hit him like a ton of bricks and literally sucked the air from his lungs.  How could he have been so stupid?  He searched his mind, what was the date?  May 15th.  Oh my God.  It's May 15th.  Hutch shook his head unbelievably at the thought.  It was a year ago today that...

"Starsk?" he whispered, tears forming in his tired eyes.  "A year today?"

Starsky nodded, tears rolling down his face.  "A year." he whispered.

Hutch couldn't believe it - this was the year anniversary of the shooting, Starsky was in the hospital, fighting for his life just a year ago this very moment.

"Oh my God," Hutch pulled Starsky close to hug him tightly.  "How could I not have remembered?"

Starsky, tired and sore as he was, hugged his best friend back as tightly as he could.

"s okay," he muttered, sobbing.  "I try to forget, too.  Guess that's why I needed you to be around tonight, for dinner and everything.  I didn't want us to be apart, especially tonight.  Stupid, huh?" he stared down at the candles.

Pulling away, Hutch wiped the tears from his face.  "I'm SO sorry, Starsk," he said.  "I guess I blocked it out, it's something I don't want to remember.  Of all the times we were in trouble, that's the time I felt I came closest to losing you forever."

"I didn't want to leave you, Hutch." Starsky admitted, wiping tears off his face as well.  "I was SO afraid, I was alone..."

"You're not alone anymore, Gordo." Hutch wrapped his arm once again around Starsky.  "I'll never leave you, ever again."

Thunder once again shook the house and Starsky moved close to Hutch.  "Promise?" he asked timidly.

"Promise.  Scouts honour." Hutch held up three fingers, prompting a chuckle from Starsky.  "And I never break a promise."

It was at that moment that the clock on the wall chimed.  Ten, eleven, twelve Hutch counted.  They had talked for two hours, it was midnight already!

Picking up the phone, Hutch once again rang the doctors' number and after a brief conversation explaining Starskys' condition, the doctor decided it would be safe to allow his patient to sleep after all.  Smiling, Hutch set the phone back in its' cradle and turned to his partner with the good news.

"I can sleep?" Starsky asked, smiling back.

"Sure can, buddy, you want me to help you up into the bedroom?" he offered, helping Starsky to stand.  Wobbly, Starsky made his way into his bedroom with Hutchs' assistance, Hutch holding a candle in one hand, supporting his friend with the other.

Gently, Hutch helped Starsky lay on the bed and covered him with a blanket.  Starsky moaned, but happily.  He was glad to be in his bed.  Now he could sleep, he was SO tired. 

"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked worriedly, sitting up to grab Hutchs' arm as hepassed by the bed.

"No, not if you want me to stay.  I told you I'd never leave you..." Hutch smiled.  "Let me pull a chair up." and with that, Hutch propped his feet up on the edge of the bed, where he could watch over his friend throughout the night.  Starsky sighed a sigh of relief and lay back onto his side-facing Hutch.  Even the storm wouldn't bother him now...

Hutch yawned once again, clasping his hands on his chest as he settled back into the chair, getting as comfortable as he could.  He knew he'd hurt come the morning, but as long as Starsk was all right, that was all that mattered to him.

"So, where do you want to go this year on vacation, Starsk?" Hutch asked through another yawn, still in the conversation mode.  "Starsk?"

But Starsky didn't answer; he had fallen fast asleep, finally allowed to.  His hand had fallen off the side of the bed towards Hutch.

Smiling, Hutch pulled the chair closer to the bed and, leaning towards the sleeping form, picked up his friends' limp hand, clasping it tightly to his chest as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Starskys' chest, his breath finally even.

"Never mind, partner," he sighed quietly, gazing at his friends' pain free face.

"Tomorrow's another day..."