"Time Together"

by

Mary Kay Hanus

It had begun as just another Saturday, another blessed day away from the
trials and tribulations of work, a day that was theirs and theirs alone, with
nothing expected or required of them.  Anything goes.  But this weekend, they
had absolutely no plans, no projects.  They were simply going to play it by
ear.  The day was theirs to do with what they would.  Little did they know
this Saturday would be more than uneventful...

"C'mon in, Starsk, door's open!"  Hutch shouted over his shoulder from the
kitchen where he leaned over the sink finishing up the dishes.  He used to
keep a spare key over the door, but after one too many break-ins, he made
good on his reluctant promise to his partner to change his pattern and forgo
leaving the spare key where everyone and their brother could find it and use
it to their benefit.  Of course, Starsky had his own key to Hutchs' place, as
Hutch did to Starskys'.  But Hutch was expecting his partner to stop in for
the day, so he'd left his door unlocked.

"What did I tell you about leaving this thing unlocked, huh?!"  Starsky
admonished him, slamming the door behind him.  "I tell ya', Hutch..."  he was
cut short by Hutch holding up a soapy hand.  "Starsk..."  he muttered,
threatingly.  "It's Saturday, don't start, okay?"

Starsky shook his head and sighed deeply.  "You're right.  It's Saturday, no
lectures."  he agreed, still wishing Hutch would use his head.  And people
thought Starsky wasn't bright...

"So how did that big date go last night?"  Hutch asked, coming in from the
kitchen, wiping his hands with an already damp towel.  Best to change the
subject, he thought.

Starsky plopped himself down on the sofa, his arms crossed behind his head,
sprawling out so there was no room for his partner to join him.  Hutchs'
house was his and vice versa.

He shrugged noncommitally.  "Went okay.  Got home late, though."  He yawned
deeply as if to prove his statement.

"How late?"  Hutch frowned, kicking Starskys' legs off the sofa and sitting
down in their place.

"Fourish."  Starsky shrugged, yawning again, stretching out his legs to drape
over his friends'  lap.

"FOURISH?!"  Hutch shouted, once again pushing Starskys' legs away and
bouncing back to his feet.  "Do you know what time it is NOW?"

"Quit shouting, will ya'?"  Starsky winced.  Apparently he'd drunk most of
his dinner last night as well.  "Of course I know what time it is now.  You
know how hard it is to tear yourself away from interesting... 
conversation..."  he offered with a typical Starsky grin, his blue eyes
flashing mischieviously.

"Conversation, my ass..."  Hutch shook his head, standing over his partner.

"Funny you should put it that way."  Starsky snickered, trying to avoid the
whip of the wet towel Hutch suddenly snapped at him.

Unfortunately, Starsky moved the wrong direction, zigging when he should have
zagged, and the towel connected, hitting him in the eye with a sharp cracking
sound.

"OW!!!"  Starsky cried out, bringing his hands to his face as he turned away
from Hutch towards the back of the sofa.

"Starsk...  my God, you okay???"  Hutch gasped, dropping to his knees in
front of his partner.  "Lemme' see..."  he ordered, trying to pull Starsky to
face him, but his hands were shaking so.  Tugging, he pulled at Starskys'
arms until he gently forced his hands away from his face.

Hutch frowned.  Starskys' ee was red and tearing, a mere slit, looking quite
sore as Starsky blinked hard.  Tears were running down his cheek.

"Aw, Starsk, I'm sorry..."  Hutch apologized over his friends' moaning. 
"That was a stupid thing to do,"  he berated himself, shaking his head as he
used the "weapon" to wipe the tears from his friends' face.

"Can you see me okay?"  Hutch asked, a hitch in his voice.  "Need me to take
you to the hospital?"

"NO hospital,"  Starsky whispered adamantly.  "I'll be fine, just a flesh
wound."  he added, waving Hutch away, trying to make light of the situation. 
He knew Hutch felt terrible and he ventured a weak smile, trying to lighten
Hutchs' mood.

"Let me get you an icepack."  Hutch said, getting up to make his way back
into the kitchen, throwing the towel angrily against the wall as he tugged
hard on the freezer handle.

"Hutch, it's ALLRIGHT!"  Starsky shouted after his friend with a frown.  His
eye burned nearly as bad as any bullet wound he'd incurred in the past, but
Hutch felt back enough, he didn't want to add to his friends' anguish.  So
he'd had to make light of it.  Accidents DO happen...

Sitting next to Starsky, Hutch gently lay an icepack against the swollen eye.

"Lie your head back and hold onto this."  Hutch ordered, grabbing Starskys'
hand to set it on the pack.  Starsky could hear the hurt in his friends'
voice and feel Hutchs' trembling hand.

Reaching out his free hand, Starsky lay it on Hutchs' shoulder and squeezed
gently.  "Hey, buddy, it was an accident..."  He couldn't see the hurt in
Hutchs' own eyes as he was lying his head on the back of the sofa, but he
could tell the hurt was there, none the less.

"I know."  Hutch sighed heavily, dropping his head to rest on the back of the
sofa as well, draping an arm across his forehead.  "But I should have known
better, it was a childish thing to do.  I'm sorry, Gordo..."  he apologized
once again, his voice sounding tired.  And their weekend was just
beginning...

"Hey, do me a favor?"  Starsky asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Sure, anything, Starsk."  Hutch sat up quickly, facing his partner, eager to
do anything to make it all up to him.

"Get me a couple aspirin, I'm wiped from last night."  Starsky added hastily,
knowing Hutch would assume the aspirins were for his eye and the pain that
Hutch himself had inflicted.  Which they were.

"You got it, babe."  Hutch jumped up and disappeared into his bathroom. 
Starsky stared one-eyed after him, shaking his head.  "Ow..."  he muttered
quietly to himself, adjusting the ice pack on his eye.

Moments later, Hutch ran back in, nearly tripping over the coffee table in
his need to get the aspirins to his friend.

"Here, brought you some water, too."  he offered, holding out the glass.

Starsky could see how shaky Hutchs' hand was, the water nearly splashing out
of the glass as he leaned over.  Starsky set the icepack aside and reached up
to hold Hutchs' trembling hands with his own.  "Easy.  Don't need a shower...
 already had one this morning."  Starsky shook his head, grasping Hutchs'
hands still.

"Sorry."  Hutch whispered.

"Hey, stop apologizing or I'm leaving."  Starsky warned, swallowing the pills
with most of the water.

"Sorry 'bout that."  Hutch apologized again, running his hand nervously
through his blond hair.

"THAT'S it."  Starsky said determindly, abruptly rising from the sofa, even
though his head was pounding, half from the drinks the night before, half
from the towel ambush on hs eye today.  He began to make his way to the door,
pushing past Hutch as he went.

"Starsk!  I'm sorry, please don't leave!!!"  Hutch shouted after him, fear in
his voice.

Starsky stopped short of the door and turned, still rubbing his sore eye. 

"I mean it, Hutch, stop apologizing!  It was an ACCIDENT..."  Starsky frowned,
 pointing his finger at his friend.  Something he'd learned from his partner
a long time ago...

This time, Hutch kept his mouth shut, even though he wanted like hell to
apologize over and over again.  He knew Starsky was serious, he'd walk out
the door without so much as a backwards glance if Hutch apologized even one
more time.  A moment passed in silence...

"That's better."  Starsky sighed, turning back to make his way to the sofa,
crashing down on it again, picking up the ice pack to lay gingerly on his
eye.

Hutch fingered the near empty glass in his hand and cleared his throat before
tilting his head back and finishing off the rest of the water.  "So, uh, what
do you wanna' do today?"  he asked, deciding it best to close the subject of
the apologies.

Starsky thought a moment and spoke quietly.  "Well, it was starting to rain
when I got here, and they're calling for thunderstorms all day, so looks like
we're stuck inside."

"No beach?"  Hutch ventured, setting the glass on the coffee table.

"No beach."  Starsky smiled.

Hutch nodded, sighing.

"Hey, there's a Marx Brothers marathon on today!"  Starsly offered brightly,
lowing the icepack to reveal the sore eye, now red and threatening looking.

"Great..."  Hutch deadpanned.  "Sure you can SEE to watch it?"

"Hah hah."  Starsky sneered, raising the icepack to his eye once again,
snuggling down in the sofa, making himself comfortable.  "Turn on the set? 
Channel 7."  he asked.

Hutch shook his head disgustedly and leaned over to snap on the television. 
The last thing he had on his mind when he invited his friend over to spend
the day off together was watching a God awful Marx Brothers marathon.  But he
still felt bad about what he'd done to Starsk, and if letting him watch some
stupid movie would make him happy, so be it.

"Aren't you gonna' sit?"  Starsky asked, watching Hutch head towards the
kitchen.

"No, I'm not a big Marx Brothers fan."  Hutch said over his shoulder, picking
up the glass on his way.  "You enjoy, I'll make you some popcorn.  Me tv es
su tv..."

Hutch bent over to retrieve the towel he'd thrown against the wall and leaned
against the sink, his head bowed as he fingered the towel.

Well, if he was gonna' be stuck inside, for the most part alone, he'd find
something to do, by God.  Screw Starsky, he didn't need him to have a nice
day off...

Hutch looked up to see raindrops now flowing down the window above the sink.

"Hey!"  he heard Starskys' voice coming from the living room.  Hutch raced
into the room to see what was the matter.  Starskys' eye?

"What, what?!"  Hutch asked anxiously.  "What's the matter, what is it?!"

"The Torino!"  Starsky shouted, dropping his icepack again.  "It's pouring
out there and I left the windows down!"

"Are you SERIOUS?!"  Hutch frowned.  "You scared the CRAP outta' me for that
stupid striped tomato of yours?!"

"It's NOT stupid and it AIN'T no tomato!"  Starsky countered angrily, rising
from the sofa.  "Nevermind, I'll take care of it myself."  he began to fish
the keys from his pocket.

Hutch shook his head, setting his hand on Starskys' shoulder.  "No, let me." 
he sighed, holding his other hand out, palm upturned.  "Gimme."

Starsky turned his trademark innocent look on his friend.

"C'mon, give."  Hutch directed again, trying to smile.

Silently, Starsky handed him the keys, touching Hutchs' palm softly before
drawing his hand away.  "Thanks."  he whispered.

"Yeah."  Hutch countered, tapping Starsky on his shoulder before making his
way out into the rain.

Starsky was back on the sofa by the time Hutch returned, soaking wet.  By
this time, though, Starsky was lying across the entire sofa, his head resting
on a pillow on the cushion of the sofa arm, with the icepack once again
covering his sore eye.

Hutch came close to tossing the keys back to Starsk, but thought better of it
(no sense putting out his OTHER eye, Hutch didn't think he had that much ice
on hand).  He leaned over and set the keys on the coffee table, his blond
hair dripping as he did so.

"All secure."  he announced.  "Now I'm gonna' go change into some dry
clothes."

"Hutch?"  Starsky called out meekly.

"Yeah?"  Hutch asked, turning around to face Starsky peering one-eyed over
the back of the sofa.

"Thank you."  It sounded sincere to Hutch.

Smiling, Hutch merely nodded as he turned to make his way to the bedroom.



Thunder was now shaking the house as Hutch emerged from the bedroom, now in
dry clothes, his hair just on the damp side.

"Hey, you hungry, Starsk?"  he asked, coming around to the front side of the
sofa.  "I can whip us up some lunch..."

But he may as well been talking to a brick wall;  Starsky was now fast
asleep, curled up on the sofa,  the icepack lying on the floor, his arm
hanging off the edge of the couch.  His eye looked even worse, if that were
possible, a reddened welt coming up where the towel hit.  But he was
breathing slow and even, no doubt due to a very late night of too much woman
and booze and too little sleep.  Hutch almost felt a twinge of jealousy, here
he wanted to share a day with his best friend, and all Starsky could do was
sleep.  No doubt he was wide awake for the date last night, he thought
bitterly.

Hutch shook his head, staring down at his sleeping friend with the television
on behind him.  What was wrong with him?  What did it matter if Starsky was
sound asleep or giving Hutch his full attention?  What mattered was they were
spending time together, away from the grind of work, riding the streets,
chasing down perps, trying to stay alive just to come back and do it all over
again one more day.  Hutch knew they'd come too close too many times, and one
day, God forbid, one or both of them may not be coming back ever again.  He
shuddered at the thought and leaned over to shut the tv set off, silence
except for the sound of the rain hitting the roof mixed with the rumbling
thunder in the distance.  Hutch sighed, kneeling down to pick up the icepack,
gently touching Starskys' hair as he knelt and set the pack on the coffee
table.

"Go ahead and sleep, buddy."  he whispered quietly so as not to wake Starsky
as he oulled an afghan from a chair and draped it carefully over his sleeping
friend.



Hutch found things to do by himself to pass the next couple of hours,
cleaning up in the kitchen, writing out checks to pay the bills at his desk,
even reorganizing his record collection.  All quietly, of course, as Starsky
was still fast asleep, moving only to turn over every once in a while.

But Hutch was actually beginning to feel lonely, his best friend was here,
but he felt like he was all alone.  This wasn't anything new, though, as
there were plenty of times in the past when Starsky was injured or sick, when
Hutch spent time feeling alone even with Starsky there with him, in another
room, asleep.

But this was different.  Hutch had looked forward all week to spending free
time with his best friend, it had been a lousy week at work and before he
knew it, they'd be back at work for another crummy week.  And this day wasn't
shaping up to be at all what he had expected it to be.

Hutchs' eyes wandered the house;  maybe he'd tend to the plants in his
greenhouse.  He'd been so busy at work all week, and so wasted by the time
he'd gotten home each night that he'd been neglecting his poor plants, and it
showed.

Hutch grabbed a beer from the fridge, momentarily eyeing the contents - he
was still hungry, not having had lunch yet.  Quickly and quietly, he made
himself a sandwich, standing over the sink to eat it.  Not quite the relaxing
lunch he was planning for the two of them...

Picking up a second beer, Hutch made his way into the greenhouse, leaving the
door open behind him just in case the phone rang, so he could hear it and
grab it before the ringing woke his partner.

He couldn't believe Starsky was sleeping so soundly.  He knew that part of it
was because of the accident earlier.  The other part from the night before. 
He always envied his partners' ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, through
any situation.  It took Hutch forever to fall asleep, and as for WHERE he
could crash...  Hutch shook his head as he sat the beer bottle down and
turned his attention to the wilted plants, humming absently to tunes in his
head.  He repotted some overgrown plants that were ignored for too long and
watered others too dry.  Hutch even tried to repair a leak in the greenhouse
roof before the building storms flooded the room, working as quietly as
possible on the ladder.  Thunder shook the house, the lights flickering...



Starsky woke out of a sound sleep with a start.  At first he was confused,
what was happening?  He was lying in his bed one moment, falling out hard
onto the floor with a thud the next, the house shaking, rumbling.  In the
distance, he heard glass breaking, voice shouting, tires screeching...

What the hell was going on?  Crawling across the floor on his hands and
knees, he made his way to the window, broken by now, glass scattered on the
floor cutting his skin as sweat poured down his face, blinding his vision.

With sudden alarm, Starsky realized what was happening. - how could he not
know?  It was an earthquake, in the middle of the night, and judging from the
way his house was falling in around him, he knew it was a bad one.  A real
bad one, and California couldn't afford any more bad earthquakes,

Coughing from the dust now spreading around him, he made it clumsily to his
feet, trying desparately to keep his balance as frames from the walls fell
crashing around him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied his jeans, which
he grabbed and pulled on, trying to keep his balance as best as possible.

The screaming outside rose in volume, and Starsky knew there was pandemonium
in the streets.  He didn't even want to consider the fatalities...  trying to
think straight with his home falling in around him, he noticed a glint of
light on the floor - his car keys!  Leaning over, he snatched them up,
knowing what had to be done.

He was no judge of earthquakes, no sizemologist, but even Starsky knew what
an earthquake of this magnitude must be doing up and down the coastline.  He
also knew his house was turning into a total loss, once glance around him
told him that.

He also knew one more, very important thing.  Chances were, he would end up
as one of the fatalities, as much as he hated to face that possiblility.  Oh,
he wouldn't give up easily, he'd fight to the end to survive.  He didn't come
all this way as a cop to surrender to Mother Natures' fury.  But if he was
going to die, he needed to reach Hutch first to know he was safe, alive.  To
see him, touch him, tell him how much he loved him...

Starsky knew he was crazy as he bounded down the stairs from his house,
seeing firsthand the destruction around him - building he saw every day near
his home were now piles of burning, smoking rubble.  Bodies lie everywhere,
people buried under the debris, screaming for help...  he knew as a
policeman, and fellow human being, he should be helping to pull them free. 
But he knew in his heart what he had to do, what might be his last gesture in
this lifetime, so avoiding the begging, pleading eyes all around him, he ran
to his car, sweeping off the debris and broken glass of what once was his
windshield to race off to what may be his final destination.  Glancing back
one last time through tear filled eyes at what once his home, his heart
breaking, he wound his way through demolished streets that were, once upon a
time, only minutes ago, so clean and quiet...

It seemed to take hours to reach Venice Place...  there was so much
destruction around him.  He shook his head, wondering how a God, any God,
could allow something so horrible, so devistating.  There was panic in the
streets, people, children, animals running every which way to escape.  But
there was no escape, the earth was opening up and savagely swallowing
anything and everything in its' path.  It was everything he could do to keep
driving to his destination, avoiding pieces of building that had fallen into
the street in front of him, hoping, praying he wouldn't be one of the unlucky
swallowed into the caverns in the ground before making it to his
destination...

But there it was, Venice Place...  or at least the remnants of what once was
Venice Place.  It, too, was now a pile of smoking rubble, people running,
screaming, crying out for friends, relatives, that were once in the building
when it stood, now most likely crushed in the mass of stone and brick, killed
as they slept.  Not even knowing what hit them.

Starsky screeched the Torino to a halt in front of the...  well, technically
it wasn't a building anymore.  The rubble now covered the spot where Hutch
always parked that beat up old tub of his...  how Starsky wished now that he
could see that rusted pile of junk one more time, with Hutch behind the
wheel, on his way to check on Starsky.  How he wished for that.  He could
picture it...

But he also saw the very real devistation in front of him.  His heart began
to race when he suddenly realized that Hutch must be in that pile of rubble. 
He tried to recall their last conversation, he'd called Hutch only a few
hours ago, before he'd gotten into bed;  he knew Hutch must've been sleeping
when the earthquake hit, there was no way he could've gotten out and down the
stairs in time, was there?  Starsky knew if there was some way his partner
could get out, he would.

Swinging his head wildly back and forth, looking up the street and wodn (or
what used to be the street, it was such a mess now, much worse than Starsky
had even seen in books or magazines or on news reports on tv...).  He began
to call out for his friend, his screams mingling with the rest of the
panicked crowd.  But he couldn't find that blond head of hair, it was so dark
and smoky out.  California had had it, he feared, this was the biggie that
was bound to destroy most of the state...

Sirens now screamed in the distance, giving Starsky a sense of hope.  Help
was on its' way, he thought, a goofy grin on his face.  But as soon as it
appeared, it was replaced by a frown;  if Hutch wasn't out here on the
street, wandering around helping injured people as Starsky knew he would be,
he must still be in the pile of ruins.  And all the sirens in the WORLD
couldn't help him then...

Starsky ran towards the rubble, beginning to climb it, his hands quickly torn
and bleeding as he screamed over and over for Hutch, to no avail.  Sweat
poured down his face, blinding his eyes as fires now began to spread
everywhere around him, and he coughed, choking on the smoke rising from under
him.  He had to find Hutch and get him out.  They'd be okay, once they found
each other, they'd survive all this and leave, just leave what was left of
California, go somewhere safe.  His thoughts strayed momentarily to Dobey and
Huggy, were they still alive?  Would they survive this?  Most likely by now,
Dobey was dead from a heart attack, and Huggy, my God...

Tears were now blinding his vision, running to mix with the sweat on his face
as he pulled and tugged angrily at the bricks and stones, he knew Hutch was
under all of this, he could sense it like the bond they always shared... 
share, he meant to think share, present tense.  He couldn't give up now,
Hutch was depending on him.  Had to save him.  It would mean another hospital
visit, another in a series in their lives.  But they'd be alive.  He had to
find Hutch.  He screamed his name over and over until he was hoarse.  But so
far, no Hutch.

Suddenly, a tired looking man, bleeding and bruised about Starskys' age, his
clothes torn and blood and dust covered appeared at Starskys' side, his
trembling hand on Starskys' back.  Starsky turned to hopefully see Hutch... 
but it wasn't Hutch at all, a total stranger.

"It's no use, mister."  he said through tears, shaking his head.  "Anyone in
that building is gone, under the rubble.  There's no way they could have
survived, there was no warning...  I'm sorry..."

Starsky looked into the mans's eyes and knew he, too, had someone dear to him
in that building before it fell.  A wife?  Children?  Mabe his best friend,
like Starsky...

Starsky shook his head.  "No..."  he moaned, falling hard to his knees on top
of the rubble.  "No, he can't be..."

"I'm sorry, fella,"  the man once again apologized, tears falling down his
face freely now.  "I'm so sorry..."

Starsky stared off into the flames growing around them.  "Hutch is gone?"  he
asked quietly to no one in particular.  "He's gone?"  Holding hs face in his
bleeding hands, he sobbed, not believing but knowing in his heart.  His
partner, the best friend he'd ever had, was gone.  He couldn't even bring
himself to utter the words he knew to be true, Hutch was dead...  Hutch was
dead...

Hutchs' mind was miles away, on what he was doing, puttering around the
greenhouse, when he thought he'd heard a voice, Starskys' voice, coming from
the living room.

Hutch stopped pulling dead leaves from the wilted philodendron in front of
him and stood very still, his head tilted to the side...  there it was again!
 It was hard to hear anything in the greenhouse with the rain hitting the
roof, the thunder crashing, everything sounding ten times louder in the small
enclosure.  But if he stood very still, he could hear Starskys' voice from
the living room.

"Starsk?"  he asked quietly, coming around the corner as he headed towards
the sofa.  Maybe he was hearing things, for all he knew his friend was still
sound asleep and hadn't called out at all.

But as soon as he came around the front of the sofa, he knew he wasn't
hearing things.  Starsky was thrashing around on the couch under the afghan,
moaning and calling out for Hutch, slurring his name.

"Hush..."  he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as he tossed and turned
violently. 

"Starsk?  Wake up!"  Hutch knelt down and grabbed his friends' flailing arms,
trying to shake him awake.  Starsky must be having a nightmare, one that
Hutch needed to wake him from.

Starsky inhaled sharply, grabbing Hutchs' arms in return, his eyes fluttering
wide open - well, at least his good eye, the injured eye was still a bit
swollen, although if had shrunk a bit in size and wasnt as red as it had been
hours earlier.  Tears were rolling down his face as thogh he'd been sobbing
in his sleep. 

He sat up, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.  "Hutch... 
earthquake..."  he whispered, trying to catch his breath.  Sweat had broken
out on his face to mise with the tears as he licked his dry lips and
tightened his grip on Hutchs' arms.

Hutch ran off to the kitchen to get another glass of water, coming back to
help his partner drink from it.  "Slow down..."  he ordered, pulling the
glass away from Starsky who drank greedily, water dripping down his chin.

"You okay?"  Hutch asked, sitting on the sofa next to his partner, eyeing him
closely. "What happened, you have a nightmare?"  he went on, rubbing
Starskys' arm.

Starskys' breathing had evened out, but he was shaking.  "Yeah, guess so..." 
he nodded.

"I heard you from the greenhouse,"  Hutch frowned.  "It must've been bad,
wanna' talk about it?"

Starsky rubbed his good eye with one curled fist while clasping Hutchs' shirt
with the other, hanging on for dear life.  He shook his head, avoiding
Hutchs' worried gaze.

"I...  I can't even remember most of it."  he lied.  "All I know is, it was
bad...  and so real..."  he shuddered.  He'd never lied to Hutch before, but
this was different.  He didnt WANT to remember the nightmare, much less tell
Hutch about it.  No.  Let it be, Starsk, he told himself.  Hutch was
allright, it was just a nightmare...

"Hey, buddy, it's the weekend."  Hutch smiled through his concern.  "No
nightmares allowed."

Starsky smiled back weakly, peering up at his friend through dark lashes. 
"'kay."  he nodded.  "I'll try.  Sorry, Hutch..."

"For what?"  Hutch asked, frowning.  "For having a nightmare?"  Hutch waved
him away.  "Go back to sleep."

"Don't think I wanna'..."  Starsky frowned.

"That bad, huh?"

"Got the feeling it ended up that way."  Starsky sighed, sitting up.  Best to
drop the subject.  "Hey, I'm hungry, what's for lunch?"  Hutch was amazed how
his partner could switch gears so easily...

"Lunch?"  Hutch chuckled.  "Try dinner, buddy."

"Dinner?"  Starsky frowned, rubbing the sleep out of his one good eye as he
checked his watch.

"Yep.  You slept most of the day, partner."

"Aw, Hutch..."  Starsky sighed.  "I slept through our day together?"

Hutch shrugged, getting up.  "No problem.  You were tired."

"Guess it's the rain."  Starsky ventured.

"Not to mention your date..."  Hutch muttered under his breath.

"Plus your eye still hurts?"  Hutch asked louder.  "Gave you a headache?"

Starsky smiled sheepishly as he nodded.  He knew Hutch would feel guilty for
days to come and didn't want to add to his feelings of self-reproach.

"Aah, it's okay."  Hutch waved him away again.  "It's still nice having you
around, awake or asleep."

Starsky grinned.  "Betcha' prefer me asleep."

Hutch laughed aloud.  "Well, it IS quieter that way!"

The sounds of Starskys' rumbling stomach broke through the sounds of thunder,
bringing smiles to both their faces.


C'mon, turkey, let me feed you before you break the sound barrier!"  Hutch
laughed, pulling on Starskys' arm.



A relaxing dinner later, both detectives sat back on the sofa in the living
room, reveling in the quiet.  The slow moving storm was still going on, but
was quieter - for the moment.  Starskys' stomach was finally sated and once
again silent.

"If you ever give up your day job, you could be a chef, Hutch."  Starsky
sighed, satisfied as he rubbed  his stomach.  "That was great, thanks."

"Welcome, partner, but I think I'd rather keep doing what we're doing, if
it's all the same to you.  Much more interesting."  Hutch looked over to find
Starsky scratching his stomach.  "For the life of me, I cannot understand WHY
you're not married, dirtball."

Starsky peered at Hutch through a slitted eye.  "I could say the same for
you, klutz."

His eyes shut, Hutch lie his head back on the sofa.  Both friend were quite
contented to remain there for the rest of the night.

"Sorry I ruined the day."  Starsky aplogized quietly once again.

"Hey, who's the one with the thing about too much apologizing?  I told you,
it's okay, no sweat."  Hutch admonished.

"Ow, damn!"  Starsky sucked in through his clenched teeth after accidentally
rubbing his sore eye.

"Isn't that eye feeling better yet?"  Hutch asked worriedly, sitting up to
face his partner. "Lemme' see again."  he ordered.

"It's better, Hutch, really."  Starsky waved his friend away.  "I just rubbed
it too hard."  Suddenly something occured to Starsky as he sat up with a
bolt.  "Oh no!  I just realized something!"

"What, what?!"  Hutch shouted, also sitting up straight on the sofa.  "What
is it?!"

"I missed the Marx Brothers marathon!  Damn!"

Hutch shook his head in amazement as he stared at his partner.  "I'm touched,
Starsk."  he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.  "Long as you didn't miss
spending time with ME..." 

Getting up, Hutch made his way around the house, angrily drawing the blinds
as it was now dark out, and not just from the storm.  Checking his watch,
Hutch realized it was past 8:00 in the evening.  Starsky, feeling guilty
about messing up Hutchs' plans for the day, stared after him, mouth agape,
ready to say something, anything.  But he knew Hutch was mad and anything he
could say would be taken the wrong way, so he was better off to keep silent.

Hutch snapped on a light, grabbing up a book from the endtable and plopped
down angrily into the chair in the corner, as far away from Starsky as he
could get without actually being in a separate room.

"Hutch?"  Starsky asked, barely above a whisper as he peered over the back of
the couch.

"What?!"  Hutch shouted through clenched teeth, hiding his face behind the
book, tring to ignore his partner.

Starsky stared longingly towards his friend in the corner.  A minute went by
before he sighed.  "Nothin'..."  he muttered, turning over to lie back down
on the sofa once again, pulling the pillow under his head and the afghan over
his shoulders.  He felt a sudden chill in the air, but he knew it wasn't just
from the temperature in the room itself.  Slowly rubbing his sore eye, he
chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip.  He was still exhausted from the night
before, though, not to mention the hard week he and Hutch had on the streets,
and it wasn't long before he fell into another deep, albeit restless sleep.

Hutch slowly lowered the book in his hand, and realized that Starsky was once
again lying down on the sofa as he couldn't see his friend anymore and knew
he hadn't left the room.  He could hear the even breathing of his partner in
the quietness of the room.

"Starsk?"  he called in as small a voice as Starsky had called Hutchs' name
earlier.  Hutch, too, wa met with silence.  Closing the book and lying it in
his lap, he sighed.  He knew he was acting like an ass.  Why did he insist on
Starskys' full attention today?  What did it matter, as long as they were
together?  Hutch treasured the time he and his best friend always spent
together, on the job or off, but mainly in the free time that they spent
together voluntarily.  And he felt today was a wasted day they could have
spent "together".  Why was Hutch acting so jealous, jealous of what?  That
Starsky chose sleep over Hutchs' attention?

Hutch frowned as he set the book down.  Quietly he got up and made his way to
the sofa, leaning over it, gently placing his hand on Starskys' forehead. 

Hmm.  A bit warm, but no real fever, he frowned.  Hutch had thought maybe
Starsky wasn't feeling well, not just from his sore eye.  Apology or no,
Hutch could STILL kick himself for that.  It was a stupid a immature thing to
have done.  It was...  was something STARSKY would have done...

Sighing, Hutch leaned his chin on hs crossed arms on the back of the couch
and spent the next few minutes watching his friend sleep, his hardened heart
softening.

Hutch quietly grabbed up his guitar in the corner and, sitting back down in
the chair he had occupied, set the guitar in his lap and began to strum it
softly, humming a tune as low as he could.  He didn't want to wake his
friend.

Hutch went on that way, humming and singing, the storm once again growing
outside, for the next couple of hours. 

It was around 10:30 or so when Hutch was singing, his soft voice schoing
through the room as he concentrated on his guitar playing.  Starsky ws still
asleep, having turned over numerous times, kicking the afghan off him and
absently pushing the pillow onto the floor in his sleep.  He was chilled as
the house was gradually getting colder as the evening went on.

Starsky could swear he heard music, as he hovered between being asleep and
awake.  What was that?  Was that Hutch?  Starsky groaned as he slowly woke,
is body was stiff and he was cold.

"Hutch?"  he mumbled sleepily, looking around him.  That's right..  he wa at
Hutchs' place for the day.  Slowly, the events of the day came back to him. 
His eye, that dream, the storm...  ironically, thunder struck just at that
moment, bringing him out of his reverie.  "Hutch?"  he called out again,
sitting up unsteadily on the couch.

In a flash, Hutch came around the corner of the sofa, holding his guitar, a
look of concern on his face.

"Starsk?"  he asked, sitting on the edge of the cushion.  "What is it, what's
wrong?  Another nightmare?"  he tenderly grasped his friends' arm.

"Naw,"  Starsky yawned.  "Heard you singing, sounds nice..."  Hutch could
feel Starsky shivering next to him.

"Here."  he offered, picking up the pillow to hand to his friend, and tossing
the afghan one-handed over Starsky, still holding onto the guitar with his
other hand.

"Thanks."  Starsky yawned again.  Grabbing Hutchs' wrist, Starsky looked him
deep in his eyes.  "Hutch, I really AM sorry about today."

Hutch could see sincerity in Starskys' tired baby blues.  Smiling, he patted
his friends' hand.  "'s okay, buddy.  You were tired today.  I should've let
you stay home instead of dragging to out in the rain like this just to keep
me company."

Starsky shook his head.  "Naw, I WANTED to spend the day with you.  I screwed
up.  Sorry I took up the sofa all day..."

"'s okay, I'm just glad you feel comfortable enough in my house to..."

"Nuh uh,"  Starsky interrupted with a sleepy frown, shaking his head.  "You
have a HOME, Hutch.  I feel more comfortable here than in my OWN place.  I
always have.  I feel comfortable WHEREVER you are..."  he sighed.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.  Which was odd,
as there was never anything uncomfortable between the two partners.  But
Hutch wasn't ready for the sincere compliment, and didn't know what to say in
return.  Hutch averted his eyes as Starsky trained his best puppy dog look on
his friend.

Hutch cleared his throat.  "It's really getting late and I think the storm's
getting worse."  he offered, checking his watch and peering towards the
window.

"Mind if I stay overnight?"  Starsky asked meekly.  "I'll sleep on the sofa."

"Of course I don't mind, it'll be nice to have you here tomorrow.  If you
don't have any other plans, maybe if it clears up enough we can go to the
beach.  Can't rain forever."  Hutch smiled with a shrug.

"Tell that to Noah!"  Starsky grinned back.

"True."  Hutch began to get up from the sofa, carrying his guitar.  "I'll let
you get back to sleep."

"Hutch?"  Starsky called, reaching out for his friends' wrist but just
missing it, his hand grasping only air.

"Hmm?"  Hutch turned as he stood next to the sofa.

"It's not all that late."  Starsky sighed.  "Would you...  please keep
playing your guitar?"

"Are you sure?"  Hutch frowned.  "You've been pretty tired today.  I think
you could still use some sleep, buddy."

"Please, Hutch?"  he pleaded, like a child begging to be allowed to stay just
a few minutes longer.  "I love hearing you sing.  I promise I'll be quiet."

Hutch chuckled.  "Don't make promises we BOTH know you can't keep, partner!"

Starsky did his best to look hurt, but he knew Hutch wasn't buying the act.

"Shove over."  Hutch relented, plopping down on the couch next to Starsky. 
"Any requests?"

"What was that song you were just humming when I woke up?"  Starsky asked
with a yawn.

Hutch turned away, embarrassed, and shrugged.  "Just a song I wrote..."  he
nearly whispered shyly.

"' was pretty.  Sing it?"  Starsky repeated, snuggling down under the afghan,
close to his partner.

Hutch set the guitar on his lap once again, drawing his feet hp to rest on
the edge of the coffee table, and began to strum quietly as before, the soft
music echoing through the room...

"There have been times when it's been raining, when Lord, I swear, I've never
been touched,
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, it's just that I always seem to miss
so much...

There have been times when I've been searching, searching in the darkness for
someone to touch,
Don't get me wrong, I'm not hurting, it's just that I always seem to miss so
much...

When looking up, I find I'm one step ahead and two behind,
When looking down, I see one small shadow, looks a lot like me...

There will come a time, when it's all over, when my goodbyes become a must,
No I won't cry because I'm sorry, it's just that I always seem to miss so
much...

I'm one step ahead and two behind..."

Starsky glanced up through tired, bloodshot eyes.  The night before was
finally catching up with him, along with his sore, throbbing eye that was
bringing on a small but building headache.  Can't tell Hutch about that, he
surmised, trying to ignore the pain and enjoy Hutchs' song.

"That's pretty, Hutch, "  he smiled.  "What's it called?"

"Seem To Miss So Much..."  Hutch answered with a sigh.  "You really like it? 
You're not just being polite, are you?"  he asked shyly, avoiding direct eye
contact with Starsky.

Starsky feigned a dramatic gasp.  "ME???"  he asked, wide eyed (or at least a
wide as ONE eye could be).  "Moi?"

"Yeah, YOU."  Hutch laughed.  "You're my best friend, I could sing TOTALLY
off key and you'd STILL tell me you loved it."

"How will I know the difference?"  Starsky grinned mischieviously, his one
good eye twinkling, though bloodshot.

"If you didn't have a headache, I'd belt you one for that comment,
mushmouth."  Hutch frowned.

"How'd you know...?"  Starsky stammered.

"C'mon, Starsk."  Hutch sighed.  "How long we've known each other?  I can
always tell when you have a headache, it's in your eyes.  Or in this case,
ONE eye..."  his voice drifted off, a note of guilt in it.

"Hey, we covered all this already."  Starsky admonished as he snuggled closer
to his friend.  "I'll live.  Jeex, I've been poisoned, shot..."

"Starsk, no..."  Hutch shook his head with a tremble.  "Don't go there."

"'kay."  Starsky smiled knowingly.  Had it been the other way around, he knew
he'd feel the same way.

"C'mon, sing something else for me."  Starsky prodded, poking Hutch in his
ribs.  "Headache or not, I want entertainment."  Waiting a beat, he added,
"...  and you're the best thing we got tonight."

'Headache or not, buddy, you're cruisin'..."

"Yeah, yeah, for a bruisin'..."  Starsky finished, waving Hutch away with a
yawn.  "C'mon. Blintz, sing already afore I fall asleep again..."

Hutch thought for a minute, frowning, tring to recall the ages old song he
wanted to sing for his friend.  It came rushing back to him, filling his head
and he fingered the chords on the guitar, anxious to play it right, hoping
the words came back to him.  It'd been YEARS since he sang it aloud...

"Oh Danny Boy..."  he began softly, the room echoing Hutchs' soft, lilting
voice.

"The pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen and down the
mountainside..."

"HEY!"  Starsky interjected, not really meaning to interrupt his friends'
singing.  But he looked up tiredly at Hutchs' face. 

"I love that song!"  he grinned his thousand watt grin.  Even as he spoke,
though, his face fell somewhat.  "That was pops' favorite song..."  his voice
drifted off as he stared out into the dark.

"Want I should stop?"  Hutch asked quietly.  He didn't mean to make his
friend sad, he just loved that song and always wanted to sing it for Starsk
to see how he liked it.  But never had, until now.

"No,"  Starsky smiled, looking back up into Hutchs' face.  "It's my favorite,
too."  he admitted, rather shyly as though it were the worlds' best kept
secret.

Hutchs' eyebrows lifted questioningly.  He knew Starsk could be sentimental,
even an old softy, but such an old song being his favorite?

"O'Starsky?"  Hutch ventured, referring to the Irish background of the tune.

Starsky burst out laughing, grabbing Hutchs' arm to steady himself.

"You goofball, Blondie..."  he laughed.

It was good to see Starsky smile and laugh like that, Hutch thought with a
grin, especially when Starsky referred to his father.  Hutch knew Starsky
missed his dad something terrible, and knew that would be a part of his
friends' life he may never completely understand, as Starsk never really
talked much about his father.  When he did, it looked as though it hurt too
much, so Hutch usually changed the subject.  But that was a part of Starskys'
life that Hutch accepted as Starskys' and Starskys' alone.  He never
questioned his partner about his dad.  He knew, even as proud as Starsky was
of his "pop", it simply hurt too much to speak of him.  So that was that. 
Case closed.  End of story.

"Hutch?"  Starsky asked, frowning, bringing Hutch from his thoughts.

"Hmm?"  he asked, once again fingering chords softly.

"Please?"  was all Starsky asked.

And once again, the strains of "Danny Boy" echoed through the quiet room,
Hutchs' soft, clear voice singing the lyrics until he could feel the limp
body of his best friend settled next to him, Starskys' head falling to rest
on Hutchs' shoulder, his dark curls tickling Hutchs' ear.  Starskys'
breathing was soft and even, he was once again sound asleep.  Hutch stopped
singing and leaned into the soft curls...

And that was okay with Hutch, awake or asleep, having his best friend here to
spend the day with him was simply the best.  Once again, he silently thanked
God for one more day, grateful for life ad the love of his friend.

Hutch picked up where he'd left off, humming Starskys' favorite song into the
night...



THE END