Trouble in Paradise

by

Mary Kay Hanus

"CUT!"  ordered George McCowan, the director, loudly, ending the scene, satisfied with the take.  "That's a print!  Let's call it a day, people..."

"Very good, guys,"  George smiled, walking over to Paul and David, who were pulling themselves up off the ground, dusting themselves off.  The guys usually liked to do as much of the actual action scenes as possible, to make everything look as realistic as they could, and this fight on top of the cliff was no different.  Of course, the last scene to be filmed with them flying off the cliff into the blue waters below would be handled by stunt doubles - no sense giving the director a heart attack...

It was the first scene, of all the shows filmed so far, that called for Starsky and Hutch to literally, physically fight each other.

Paul brushed himself off and looked up into his friends' face - David was bleeding from a cut on his lip.  Immediately, Pauls' stomach fell to his feet.

"Hey, you're bleeding!"  Paul pointed at Davids' face.  David felt his lip and pulled his hand away to see his fingers stained red with his blood.

"Guess I am!"  he smiled, licking the coppery taste from his lips.

"I did that?"  Paul asked quietly.  "I'm sorry, Davey..."  his voice trailed off.

David frowned.  He was worried about his friend.  It seemed as though ever since Paul read the script for this episode, especially the fight scene, he'd been unusually withdrawn and quiet, quite unlike the Paul David was used to.  He'd tried to talk to Paul about it during the couple of weeks they'd been on the island filming, but Paul clammed up tight.  David never felt so distant from his best friend.

In the past years that they'd filmed "Starsky and Hutch", they'd grown closer than ever, they were truly Starsky and Hutch in real life.  They'd lay down their lives for each other, as Starsky and Hutch would.  David never HAD such a friend as Paul, and he looked forward to every day they could spend together, filming.  In fact, David came to actually look forward to the Mondays most people dreaded, when he could see his friend again.  He missed him over the few weekends that they didn't hang out together.

The first year together as Starsky and Hutch, when they were just getting to know each other, Paul had had a bad time, getting used to playing a role day in and day out, and wanted to chuck it all, but David had insisted they made a great team, as Starsky and Hutch AND as Paul and David, and talked Paul into coming back the next year.  And the next.  And the next.  And Paul came to love it as much as David.

But Paul was really upset by the fight scene in this episode, and tried hard to change it, and when he realized tht wasn't going to happen, he tried to put off the scene as long as possible.  But it was inevitable, it had to be filmed SOMETIME.

"Paul?  It's okay."  David smiled warmly, gently touching his best friends' arm.  "No harm, no foul."

But Paul pulled away, still frowning and trying to avoid Davids' worried gaze.  "I'm sorry, Davey."  he repeated softly.  David looked out of the corner of his eye towards George still standing by, obviously feeling uncomfortable, and nodded ever so slightly to the side, as if to say, "Go on, George, I can handle this."

Almost unnoticeably, the director slipped away with a thankful sigh.  He loved working with both Paul and David, they had their moments of practical jokes and general goofing off on the sets, but for the most part, they were professional actors and directing them was a pleasure.  But he knew Paul didn't want to film this episode, this fight scene, it bothered him to have to attack his best friend, even though they all knew it was make believe.  He'd grown to love acting, and to love his best friend, and he didn't ever want to lose either one.

"Hey,"  David muttered.  "You 'kay?"

Paul shrugged noncommittally, staring anywhere but into Davids' eyes.  "Sure, why not..."

"Paul..."  David began, but was interrupted by his buddy.

"I'm, I'm ah...  gonna' run a couple of errands, 'kay?  Guess I'll see you later..."  Paul frowned, starting off.  But David grabbed his arm, causing him to turn and face him.

"Paulie,"  he began again.  "It's OKAY.  You need to talk, partner?"

Paul gently tapped Davids' chest with his fist and attempted a smile.  "Gotta' go."  was all he said, his voice wavering.  David knew his best friend was close to tears.  He wished he knew what to do to make Paul feel better.  About acting.  About himself.

All he could do was watch as his friend sauntered off to a waiting jeep and revved it up, taking it down the hill towards the hotel they all shared for the duration of the filming.

The next time David saw Paul was hours later.  He didn't locate him anywhere in the hotel the rest of the day, and that worried him.  David was downright scared that Paul might do something stupid.  Something to hurt himself.

As a last resort, he checked with the hotel desk.  Maybe they knew something.

"Excuse me, have you seen Mr. Glaser anywhere this evening?"  David asked, leaning on the counter.

The man at the desk smiled upon seeing David, but soon gave way to a frown upon hearing Pauls' name.  "Um, yes, Mr. Glaser."  he mumbled.

"Something wrong?"  David asked warily.  What did his pal do now, he thought to himself.

"No...  no, nothing's wrong.  It's just that...  well, during his stay so far, Mr. Glaser has been nothing short of a pleasant guest.  So far..."

"What did he do?"  David asked, in spite of himself.

"Well, it's not that he DID anything, persay."  the man shrugged.  David was getting antsy.  This guy was avoiding something.  The man sighed.

"He left here some time ago.  And not alone."  he whispered confidentially.

"Who was he with?"  David asked quietly, feeling a twinge of jealousy.  Here Paul didn't want to spend time with his best friend, but it seemed as though he DID find someone to share his problems with.

"It's not WHO, Mr. Soul."  the man said, lifting his eyebrow.  "It's WHAT."

David waited as long as he could for an answer.  Holding his arms out, he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "WELL???"

The desk man swallowed hard.  "Well, he had two full bottles of whiskey in his hands as he passed by.  And I got the feeling he wasn't going to SHARE them with anyone."

David frowned.  "Where was he headed?"

"He didn't say, but I saw him take a jeep towards the beach.  Hopefully he's allright, Mr. Soul.  I really do like him, I'd hate to see anything happen to him.  I hope you find him."

"Thanks."  David nodded with a faint smile as he headed towards the revolving door in the lobby.

It had already turned dark outside as David made his way to one of the waiting jeeps and started the engine.  His stomach roared as loud, as he was starving.  He'd hoped to find Paul in his room to invite him to dinner, but no one had seen him all day, since they ended filming after the fight scene.  But food was the last thing on his mind right now, he had to find Paul before he got himself into trouble.  They were getting to be more and more like Starsky and Hutch all the time, David sighed as he pulled out onto the road towards the beach.

It wasn't long before his headlights flashed onto another jeep similar to his.  It had to be Paul, as he had seen no other vehicles parked along the drive to the beach.  He pulled his jeep off behind the other vehicle and turned off the engine.

Thankfully, the moon was full tonight, so he had no trouble making things out on the beach below.  And it wasn't long until he spotted a lone figure sitting close to the waters' edge.

With a sigh, David rubbed his tired eyes and chewed thoughtfully on his sore lip.  "Give me strength, Lord..."  he thought to himself.

He wasn't sure if he should approach Paul or not.  He didn't want to spook his friend, but he certainly couldn't sit here forever, waiting for Paul to come back to his jeep.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?"  David asked, coming up on Pauls' right side.  He didn't want to scare him, as he could tell Paul had finished off most of one of the bottles of whiskey.  He didn't even have to looks at the bottle to know, he could smell it.  Paul reeked of whiskey.  David squatted down next to him.

Paul swung his head around slowly to look up at his friend.  Even in the moonlight, David could see the pain in his partners' eyes.

Paul shrugged slowly.  "Please yourself."  his words slurred as he looked back out over the water.

It seemed like a lifetime that they were both quiet, before David broke the silence.

"Paulie..."  he began with a sigh.  "Please talk to me.  What's wrong?"  he begged.

Moments went by.  David could see the glisten of tears on his friends' cheeks in the moonlight.  Davids' heart fell.

"You KNOW I love you, Davey."  Paul sighed, still staring straight ahead.  "But please leave me the hell alone."

David felt crushed.  In all the years they'd known each other, they had neve dismissed each other when one needed the other as Paul obviously needed David now.

David had never seen his friend in such turmoil, not through all the disappointments, sicknesses, even deaths in their lives since they knew each other.  They leanes on each other in times of pain, and David had hoped this time would be no exception.  But even being inebriated as he was, Paul was adament, he didn't want anyone's help, especially his best friends'.  This was something he felt he had to work out on his own.  With a little help from Jim Beam, of course...

David was at a loss.  He wanted so badly to take Paul into his arms and make all the hurt go away.  But he knew by doing that, he could chance pushing his friend away even further, and he didn't want that.  He clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared down at the ground.

"'kay, buddy,"  he whispered, barely being heard over the rushing waves.  "But you know I'm always here when you need me.  PLEASE don't push me away."  his voice wavered as he carefully, slowly reached out to touch his partners' shoulder.  This time, Paul didn't pull away.  There was hope for their friendship yet, David thought.  But he didn't push his luck, he drew his hand away after tenderly rubbing Pauls' arm and stood up.  But he didn't go far, he had no intention of leaving his friend, not in this condition.  And there was no way in hell he was gonna' let Paul drive, he wouldn't make it two feet in that jeep without losing control.

Paul turned to watch his friend climb back up the hill towards the jeep, his mouth open to say something, to apologize and ask his forgiveness, to plead with his partner to help him, to cry out his name just for the sake of hearing it aloud.  But instead, slowly turned back to resume his gaze at the moonlit waves crashing towards him.  Goddamned pride, he thought bitterly.  It never came between them before, why start now?

David made his way up the steep hill, coming to rest, breathing heavily, at the top where he could still keep an eye on his friend.  Turning around, he plopped down with a heavy sigh, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapped an arm around them.  Even thought it was paradise, the night was getting chilly with the breezes off the water.  Or maybe the chill that ran through him was something else...  fear?  He was scared he was losing his friend.

Staring down at the lone figure on the beach, David ran his free hand down his face, rubbing his sore eyes.  God, what went wrong?  Just a couple of weeks ago, things seemed fine, they were two friends enjoying life.  Until they came to paradise, that is.  Paradise, my ass, David thought bitterly to himself.  They'd had nothing but bad feelings and misunderstandings since they arrived here.  David chuckled to himself as he wondered what Hutch would do about Starsky in this condition.  David knew he had to think like Hutch.  After all these years, he'd BECOME Hutch, his alter ego, as much as his friend had become Starsky.  He knew he couldn't abandon his best friend now, Paul may not have realized it, but he needed David now more than ever, he just had to come to the conclusion on his own.  David just hoped it wouldn't take too long...

He stayed that way for another hour or so, keeping an eye on his friend below him on the beach, trying to keep warm by rubbing his arms.  He wished he could be back at the hotel, in his bed, comfortable...  he was still hungry, too, he hadn't eaten for most of the day.  And his lip was starting to throb from Pauls' blow earlier, but he wasn't about to mention THAT to his friend, Paul felt bad enough about that incident as it was, David didn't want to make him feel worse.

David bided his time, trying not to nod off.  He wanted to give Paul all the time he needed to sort out his feelings.  He just hoped it would be soon.

David was shifting his body to a more comfortable position when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye - Paul had stood, quite unsteadily, from the sitting position he'd been in for the past few hours, and made his way shakily towards the waters' edge, stumbling over his own feet.  David suddenly felt very nervous, very anxious about Pauls' actions.  In a heartbeat, he was up and running down the slope, trying to keep his balance, avoiding losing his own footing and tumbling over and over.  It only took a few seconds before he reached Paul, who by now was in the water up to his knees.  The waves, however, came in to crash up to his chest, knocking him even more unsteadily.  With a superhuman strength, Paul hurled the empt whiskey bottle from his left hand into the ocean, shouting aloud, the pitiful scream tearing at his throat.  "NOOOO!"  he cried, falling to his knees in the freezing water.

David ran up behind his friend, the waves washing up against his legs as well.  David automatically developed a chill from his wet clothes, e couldn't believe Paul wasn't freezing himself.  Of course, a bottle of whiskey in your system can go a long way to warm you up...

"Paul?"  he shouted to be heard over the crashing waves.  "C'mon, come back here, please come out of the water!"  Paul seemed to be moving further out, away from Davids' grasp. 

"Davey?"  Paul gasped, looking up at his friend, tears in his eyes, as though he hadn't seen him for ages.  He'd thought David had left him when he begged to be left alone, he should've known better, he thought, blurrily.  He should've known his best friend in the world wouldn't abandon him, no matter how shitty he treated him.  Paul began to cry, sobbing, as the waves washed up to his shoulders.

"Paul, give me your hand!"  David ordered, holding out his shaky hand.  He was in the water as far as he dared go without having to tread water.  "NOW!"  he screamed to be heard over the crashing waves.

Paul looked up into his friends' eyes.  Pauls' eyes were bloodshot and half-shut, the effects of the whiskey, and fear was etched on his face.  His eyes were begging for help from his best friend as he held his hand out.

"Hutch, help..."  he muttered, losing track of who his friend really was.  He was reverting into his character of Starsky.

The water was now up to Pauls' neck and getting higher with each wave.  David had to move fast or he was going to lose his friend forever.  "Starsk..."  he mouthed, shaking his head unbelievably.

With a mighty lunge, David dove towards his friend, the water nearly covering him, freezing cold, and grabbed Pauls' wrist.  Pulling with all his strength, David drug Paul out of the water, inch by inch, then foot by foot until they once again reached the shore, safe from the deadly pull of the ocean.  Relieved, David threw his arms around his friend and hugged him tightly as they fell hard to their knees in the wet sand.  Paul was still sobbing, totally drenched and shaking uncontrollably from the cold, but he held fast onto his friend.  David, for his part, rubbed Pauls' back as Paul buried his face in Davids' neck.

"Thank God..."  was all David could mutter, barely being heard over the waves.  "Let's get you back to the hotel, babe,  you're freezing."

Paul stumbled to his feet, still clinging to David with shaking hands.

"C...  cold..." he stuttered, his teeth chattering.  "H...  home...  please, Davey..."

"C'mon, babe,"  David ordered, pulling Paul up and protectively wrapping his arms around him.

Starting up the beach, they came upon the second bottle of whiskey in the sand, unopened.  Bending down to pick it up, David thought about throwing it into the ocean to join its' empty counterpart, but knowing the kind of night he was about to have, nursing his friend back to health and sanity, he thought it might just come in handy.  He tucked it underneath one arm and wrapped the other arm around Pauls' waist, leading him up to the jeep.

"We'll get you out of those wet clothes and into a warm bed, and then we're gonna' have a long, long talk."  David ordered, pulling Paul up the grassy slope.

"I wanna' talk, Davey."  Paul coughed.  "I NEED to talk..."

"I know, buddy,"  David sighed, getting colder by the minute himself.  He was out of breath climbing the hill for the second time tonight and wished he could just fall into his own bed.  But he knew that wasn't about to happen, not tonight.

"Get in the jeep."  David ordered, leading Paul over to his vehicle.  Paul looked puzzled, as he glanced through tired eyes from one jeep to the other.

"Don't worry, Gordo, we'll send someone to get your jeep tomorrow.  You're not driving, not in your condition."  David decided.

Once inside the jeep, Paul sneezed and leaned over to rest his head on his friends' shoulder, grabbing hold of Davids' arm with a shaky hand.  He was shivering so badly, the damp curls on the back of his neck were shaking.  Leaning back, David found a jacket in the backseat.  Tossing it over his friends' shoulders, he started up the vehicle and quickly made his way back to their hotel, one arm protectively around his best friend, partly to keep him warm, partly to calm him down.  Paul had come SO close to dying tonight...

David shook his head, angrily wiping away the tears that had formed in his eyes, and headed back to the warmth of the hotel. He needed to know what was bothering his friend this much, and prayed he cold help Paul come up with a solution to his problem...

David was thankful the hotel lobby was practically empty by the time they returned, but of course, it was well past midnight.  Two dripping wet men would have stood out like a sore thumb, and the press would have a field day.  As it was, they were lucky enough to even get an empty elevator to themselves, and even the floor their rooms were on was free of people, deserted.

"C'mon, buddy,"  David said, propping Paul up by the door with one hand as he fished through his soaked jeans pocket to produce a key to his room with the other hand.  He knew his friend was stocky, but soaking wet he weighed a ton.

"Aw, Blintz,"  Paul whispered, tired, drunk and chilled to the bone, closing his eyes tightly.

"I know, Paulie, I know."  Where was that damned key?  David frowned to himself as he patted his pockets.

"Davey, hurry, I feel sick..."  Paul swallowed hard, new beads of perspiration breaking out on his face as he looked at his friend, his eyes begging.  He was practically hyperventilating as he slowly slid down the wall.

"Okay, got it."  David licked his sore lip, pushing the door open and guiding Paul inside, leading him quickly towards the bathroom.

"Good luck!"  David yelloed, only to be met by a slamming door in his face.

David leaned against the doorway with outstretched arms and sighed heavily, hanging his head.

"Help him. Lord..."  he muttered.  He could hear muffled sounds behind the door.  Poor Paul...

"Stay in there, buddy, I'll be right back!"  David shouted, running off to his room next door to grab up some dry clothes for himself.  Slamming the door shut behind him, he made it back to Pauls' room as quickly as he could.

"Paulie?"  he asked through the bathroom door, anxiously.  He was met by silence.  "You okay in there?  PAUL?"  he shouted as loud as he dared, it WAS early in the morning.

"Oh, God..."  he heard a sigh come from the other side of the door.  A whoosh escaped Davids' mouth as he gently touched the door, leaning his head on it.  At least his friend was still alive.

Slowly, the door opened and there stood Paul, still fairly wet, looking as though he would faint dead away.  He leaned against the doorjam, holding out a shaky hand towards David, who grabbed it, pulling gently until Paul fell into his friends' arms and a tender embrace.

"Feel any better?"  David asked quietly.

Paul rolled his eyes as he leaned his head on Davids' shoulder.  "Terrific."  he dripped with sarcasm.

David chuckled.  Thank God his friend still had his weird, wicked sense of humor.

"C'mon, let me run a bath for yoo..."  he began.

"NO, NO bath!"  Pauls' eyes were wide as he pulled away from David.  The last thing he wanted right now was more water up around his neck.  "Shower..."

David understood and nodded, patting his chest.  "You got it, pal.  I'll start the water and get you some warm clothes to change into."

"Stay in as long as you need."  he said, getting the water to a warm temperature and handing Paul some jogging pants and a fresh sweatshirt along with a towel.  "Call if you need anything, buddy, I'll be right outside.  Then we'll talk."  David patted Pauls' shoulder as the steam rolled out of the shower stall.   "You gonna' be okay?"  he asked, worried about his friends' balance, or rather, lack of.

Paul smiled tiredly, gripping Davids' wrist.  "Long as you're around, pal..." he sighed.  "Long as you're around..."

Closing the door behind him, David turned to matters at hand.  Using a towel, he dried his hair the best he could and slipped from his wet clothes to his own sweats, feeling more comfortable almost immediately.  Checking his watch, he was surprised to find what time it was - 1:15 a.m.  Shaking his head with a yawn, he turned down the bed and plumped the pillow up.  He wanted everything ready for Paul when he came from the shower, he just hoped Paul could stay awake long enough to hash out his problems, he knew his friend must be exhausted.

Making his way to the kitchenette of the hotel room, David set about making a pot of coffee for the two of them, keeping his attention on the bathroom.

Coming back to the bedroom with two steaming hot mugs, he could still hear the water running.  Hopefully, Paul was okay in there.

David caught sight of the bottle from the corner of his eye.  The whiskey - he'd forgotten all about the whiskey.  Opening the bottle, he tipped it over his coffee mug and poured in a generous amount.  He didn't want to drink in front of his friend, but he knew with the night (or rather, morning) ahead of him, he was gonna' need something.  Taking a sip of the steaming coffee, he made a face, it was hot and strong.  Just what he needed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed, fingering his wet clothes that lay at the foot of the bed.  Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked up suddenly to see Paul standing in the doorway of the bathroom.  David was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even heard the door open;

"You 'kay?"  he asked, standing up to move in front of his best friend.  Paul looked much better, his hair was damp but clean, and he was dressed in his dark blue sweats.  He looked tired, his eyes mere slits, but he had a slight grin on his face.

"So, you ready to party"  he asked David, chuckling.

"You're okay."  David nodded, smiling back.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed, you're still shaking."  David ordered, tugging at Pauls' arm.

"I'm NOT that easy."  Paul said, letting his friend direct him towards the bed.  David frowned at him from the corner of his eye as he guided his friend.  "That's not what I heard..."  he muttered.

"Get in and shut up."  David ordered, pulling the blankets up around Pauls' neck.  "Here, made this for you.  Just what the doctor ordered."  he added, handing Paul the coffee.  "Careful, it's hot.  It should take the chill off."  He hoped, anyway.  He hoped his friend wouldn't develop pnuemonia.  David was still trying to figure out how to explain Pauls' sudden illness to the powers that be.  There was no way Paul would be able to show up for filming more of the show for the next day or maybe two.   How was he going to...  his thoughts were interrupted by what just might be his saving grace.  Thunder.  When did the clouds move in, he frowned to himself.

David sighed gratefully.  It it stomed the next day, there wouldn't be any filming anyway, and Paul could stay in bed and sleep off the chills and whiskey.  Hmm, sounded like a country and western song, he chuckled to himself, ever the musician.

Only trouble was,  Paul hated storms. always had, as far as David knew, and always would.  Maybe there was a reason for the whiskey after ll, with any luck, Paul would sleep through the whole storm, David thought, hopefully.

Another rumble of thunder outside brought David back to the present.  Paul had been cautiously sipping at the hot coffee since David handed it to him and now gestured that he'd had enough.  "Thanks, Davey,"  Paul sighed, handing the mug back to his friend.  "That felt good going down."

"Good - warm you up?"  David asked, sitting forward in the chair next to the bed.

"A bit.  Between that and the shower."  Paul shrugged and nodded, although he still shook as he'd handed David his mug.  You're not fooling anyone, David thought to himself.  He knew how bad Paul must be feeling right now.  His stomach must be churning, his head throbbing, his body chilled to the bone.

"Okay, let's talk then."  David suggested softly, fingering his mug of coffee and whiskey.  "Talk to me, what's bothering you?"  he looked intent, peering into Pauls' bloodshot eyes as if he'd find an answer there.

Paul looked down, around, anywhere but directly into his friends' eyes.  He couldn't bring himself to meet Davids' gaze.  Paul felt terrible about the days' events, about this whole damned trip to paradise.  Paul had begun to have doubts, about his career, his life, everything.  The only thing he was sure about was his friendship with David.  He could always count on his best friend.  Davey had proved that once again tonight.

"Hey..."  David whispered quietly, frowning as he tenderly touched Pauls' arm.  "Something's really wrong, maybe I can help..."

When Paul finally met Davids' eyes, he sighed heavily, a lone sob escaping him.

"THAT'S the problem," he mumbled.  "I don't really KNOW what's wrong with me, Davey."  He fingered the sheet up around his neck with a shaky hand.  "I think I'm losing it..."  he added in a whisper.

David frowned.  "What do you mean, LOSING it?"

"You know, crazy, headed for the looney bin, the rubber room,"  Paul cried softly.  "That's all folks, that's all she wrote..."  he finished, whirling his index finger in circles close to his head.

David held up his hand to stop his friend.  "Wait a minute, wait just one damned minute,"  he said, angrily.  "Are you telling me you think you're going NUTS?"  he asked, unbelieveably.  "What are you, CRAZY?"

"That's what I'm trying to TELL you!"  Paul shouted, sitting up in bed.

"SSH!"  David ordered, his hands on Pauls' shoulders, pushing him back against the pillow.  "People are trying to sleep, you know!"  When Paul was settled down once again, David continued.

"What I MEANT was, Paulie...  you're the most SANE person I've ever met!  I mean, for an INSANE person.."  David shrugged.

Paul made a face at his friend.  "Gee, thanks, I feel SO much better now..."

"You know what I mean."  David returned the face.  "Paulie, you're my best friend in the world.  Don't you think I know you better than anyone else?"

Paul, avoiding Davids' eyes, nodded slowly.

"Allright, then."  David continued, taking another sip from his coffee, wishing now it was straight whiskey after all.  He could use all the help he could get if he was going to tackle THIS problem.  Paul thought he was going crazy?

"What makes you think you're going crazy?"  he asked seriously.  "What's changed in the last few weeks to make you feel like that?"

Paul shrugged, still avoiding Davids' gaze.  "Dunno.  I...  I just started doubting everything.  My career, my life..."

"Do you doubt our friendship?"  David asked quietly.  It was a question he'd hoped, no, he'd PRAYED he'd never have to ask his best friend.  But in the state Paul was in lately, he had to know where they stood with each other.

Pauls' head snapped up from his attention on the blanket he was fingering upon hearing the question.  David, seeing the sudden hurt in Pauls' eyes was immediately sorry he'd asked "the" question.

"Of course not!"  Paul whispered, tears once again filling his eyes, threatening to overflow down his cheeks.  "Davey, I love you.  We're the ONLY thing in my life I'm sure of!  Don't you know that?"  his voice drifted off.

David set his coffee mug down on the stand next to the bed and moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed next to Paul.

"I'm sorry, babe, of course I know how you feel about me.  I love you, too, and I'm sorry if I don't always show it."  he said, pulling Paul into a warm embrace.  "I'm sorry if it sounded like I doubted our friendship, I'm just worried about you."  Paul trembled as he hugged David back.

David pulled back to see the tears now glistening on his friends' cheeks.  "You've just been so distant lately.  I've felt like...  like I can't reach you anymore, like our friendship..."

"NO!"  Paul hissed angrily.  "Don't say it, don't even THINK it!"

"Ssh, calm down, buddy, it's okay."  David consoled him with a hand to the side of  his face.  He could feel the warm tears and wiped them away as Paul leaned into Davids' touch.

There was silence for a moment or two, thunder rumbling outside, until David spoke again.  "Was it the fight?"  he asked quietly, frowning.

Paul nodded.  "It was hard enough to have to whack you in 'Committee'."  he admitted.

"Yeah,"  David chuckled, sitting back.  "I can STILL feel that one."  he added, instantly regretting the comment.  Paul had felt terrible about having actually made contact with Davids' chin in that scene instead of pulling his punch.  He could still see David sitting in his chair between takes, holding an ice pack on his face to bring the swelling down before they could resume filming.

"Hey, what can I say?"  Paul shrugged, swallowing hard.  "I get into my work..."

"Well, at least I got you back in 'Gillian',"  David laughed, recalling the punch he threw at Paul in THAT episode.  "So what about the fight scene on top of the hill yesterday?"

Paul sniffled, looking around the room, anywhere but Davids' eyes as he toued with the front of his sweatshirt, having abandoned the sheet.  He shook his head back and forth as he spoke.

"I didn't want to fight you.  Even if it WAS just acting.  And when I hit you again and your lip started bleeding..."  his voice trailed off.

"Paul, we were just acting!"  David chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.  But Paul wa serious.  Dead serious.  The whole fight scene really shook him.

"What is it, Paul?  Are you trying to say you want to give up acting?"  David dreaded the answer to that one.

Paul looked up into Davids' face.  "I don't think so..."  he mumbled.  "I LOVE acting with you.  Sometimes I wish we could've started the show years ago, you know?"

David smiled, nodding.  "Me, too.  I can't picture myself acting with anyone else but you, partner."  Translation - if you leave the show, it's over.  No replacement for you, pal.

Paul fiddled more with the sweatshirt.  Looking up with a frown on his face, he continued on, although David could tell the liqupr was starting to take effect, as Pauls' eyes were at about half-mst.  This conversation wouldn't be lasting much longer...

"Do you think I could be a director?"  he finally asked, his voice barely about a whisper.

David blinked - he'd never had any indication that Paul ever wanted to direct.  He knew Paul wasn't too into acting, although David thought his friend was one of the best actors he'd ever seen.

"You mean movies?"  he asked.

"Nw...  well, maybe.  Someday."  Paul had begun to blush.  Apparently he'd never admitted this to anyone, and David smiled, feeling honored Paul would share this dream with him.

"Maybe an episode or two?"  he offered.  "You think the powers that be would let me?"  he asked hopefully.

"Sure, why not?"  David shrugged, brushing a stray curl from Pauls' eyes.  "Depends on how we approach them."  he added, warning, reminding Paul of the ruckus he caused when he'd tried to get out of his contract the first season.

We.  Not you.  Me and Thee...

Paul nodded.  "Would you help me?"

"Of course, anything for you, buddy,"  David smiled warmly.

Paul eyed his friend cautiously.  "But how would YOU feel about me directing us...  you?"

Ah, the sixty-four thousand dollar question...  David thought.  Biting his lip, avoiding the sore spot.  Paul stared long and hard at his friends' face, waiting...

"Paulie, I would be honored to have you direct me."  David said warmly.

Paul let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and grinned back.

"You know me the best of anyone."  David went on.  "Plus, if I don't like Paul laughed aloud.  It was music to Davids' ears, Paul hadn't laughed like that in weeks and David had missed it terribly.

"So, that's what's been bothering you?"  David asked.

"Yeah,"  Paul nodded.  "That and that stupid fight scene.  I'm really sorry, Davey, I KNOW it's just a scene in a show, but you're my best friend.  I don't EVER want  to fight with you.  Silly, huh?"  he asked, blushing once again.

David set his hand on Pauls', stilling it, and looked deep into his friends' bloodshot eyes.  "No."  he said firmly.  "Not at all.  I never want to fight you, either."  He touched his lip gingerly.  "Guess that's why you got a shot in, I didn't want to fight you back and chance hurting you again..."

"Shoulda' defended yourself..."  Paul mumbled, his words beginning to slur as he winced at the building storm outside.

"Maybe."  David chuckled as he grabbed his mug of now cold coffee and stood.  But he was stopped by a weak grasp on his wrist.

"Davey?"  Paul  yawned, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Hmm?"  David asked, turning back to his partner.

"Thank you.  For saving me tonight."

"Ah, you coulda' makde it out of the surf on your own..."  David started to shrug.

"I don't mean just at the beach, Blintz."  Paul smiled, tiredly, as his grasp on Davids' wrist dropped to interlock with his friends' fingers.

Davids' heart melted as he stared at his friend.  "Hey, YOU'VE saved ME plenty of times, Gordo."  he whispered, squeezing Pauls' hand.  "Plenty of times.  I'm just glad you let me help you tonight."

"Davey?"  Paul asked again.

"Umm hmm?"  David asked, leaning over, as it was becoming harder to hear his exhausted friend.

"Don't leave?"  Paul asked in a tiny voice.

Ironic, David thought.  Here's this grown man, a macho 70's kind of guy, all rough and rugged on the outside, on the inside, weak as a kitten and desparately in need of a friend.

David smiled, breaking free of Pauls' grasp to softly smooth the dark brown curls.

"I'm not going anywhere, babe."  he promised with a sigh.  "I'll never leave you."

"I know..."  Paul muttered before sleep finally overtook him, his breathing finally evening out.

They'd never leave each other, David thought without a doubt.  As he turned out the light, he sat back in the chair next to the bed.  Sitting in the dark, listening to the rain now falling outside, he could hear his best friends' soft snoring as he finally slept.

Clasping his hands together on his chest, he leaned back, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily, closing his tired eyes, careful not to wake Paul.

No, he decided.  They'd never leave each other...  their friendship was forever.

THE END