Disclaimer: This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from it. No infringement on anyone’s copyrights is intended.

Justice

Written by Sue David and Valerie Wells

© May 2001

We thank our technical consultant Hutchrules3

~*~*~*~

Starsky and Hutch were arguing amiably as they entered the squad room that morning. Starsky, waving his hands for emphasis, insisted, "I'm tellin' ya, Hutch, it's the next big thing. And you can do it, I know you can."

"Starsky," Hutch said, more or less patiently, "I am not going to play punk rock. No WAY am I going to play punk rock."

"But the kinda music you like," Starsky went on, plopping his bottom on the table and propping his feet on a chair, "good as it is, it just don't sell, buddy. We could make a million bucks."

"We?" Hutch inquired, smothering a grin. "Where do you fit into all this?"

"I'll be your manager," Starsky said.

Dobey stood in his office doorway and listened, reluctant to interrupt. The paper he held in his hand was going to destroy those smiles and make their next few weeks miserable.

"I'm a cop, moron," Hutch said, pouring himself and Starsky cups of coffee. He held Starsky's out to him, and Starsky took it, took a sip and set it down. "I'm not a professional singer, so what does it matter what kind of music I sing?"

"You could be a professional," Starsky said. "You're good enough. You could start out slow, doin' gigs in the bars, until you built up a following, and then –"

Hutch rolled his eyes and Starsky paused.

"You could!" he said defensively.

"Sure, I could," Hutch said. "I can see the marquee now. 'Ken Hutchinson, The Singing Cop.'"

"That ain't bad," Starsky said approvingly. "You'll need a gimmick. That might do the trick."

Hutch grinned and sang the song Starsky had been humming for the last few weeks, "'Echo Valley 2-6809, I used to call that number all the time, but the last time that I called you, we hung up cryin'.'." He turned his eyes toward his captain to include him in the banter. "What d'you think, Cap? Maybe I'll even perform in uniform, give the girls a thrill."

Starsky snorted. "You ain't gonna sing Partridge Family songs, Hutch. Punk rock. I'm tellin' ya...."

Dobey drew a deep breath. "I need to see you two in my office."

The two detectives exchanged a look. And without a word, Starsky slid off the table, snagged his coffee on the way, and followed Hutch and Dobey into the office, closing the door behind him. He sat down in one chair and Hutch hitched his chair a little closer to Starsky's before sitting down. Both waited expectantly, all humor gone from their faces.

Dobey laid the paper in front of him on the desk and rubbed his hands over his head. "I've got some news."

"Lay it on us, Cap," Starsky said.

Dobey looked from one to the other for a moment first. These two liked it straight from the shoulder, no beating around the bush, no breaking it easy. "Prudholm's been certified fit for trial."

Starsky's face went a shade paler and Hutch reached out and laid a hand on his arm. There was short silence.

"Which case?" Hutch asked finally.

Dobey sighed. "Terry."

"Charge?"

"Murder one."

Starsky still had not spoken. He looked down into his coffee cup for several moments while Hutch gently stroked his arm.

"Dave," Dobey said very quietly, "I know this is going to be hard for you. Do you need a couple of days off?"

Starsky, eyes still down, shook his head.

"We'll need to pull the file," Hutch said to Dobey. "Track down the witnesses again, get the stories straight –"

"The D.A.'s doing that," Dobey said. "He'll be in touch with you. You'll have to testify."

"We know," Hutch answered for both of them.

"Hutch, can you make a list of people that won't be in the official file, for the D.A.?"

Hutch nodded without looking away from Starsky. "That'd be Dr. Quo, for one. Christine, maybe, you think, Starsk? We'll need a victim statement and she can testify to the effect on Terry and on you –"

Starsky wet his lips, nodded once, but still didn't speak. Hutch turned his eyes to Dobey with a mute plea in them.

"I need a cup of coffee," Dobey said, understanding. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He rose, picked up his half-full cup, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hutch waited.

It took several more moments, but finally Starsky said, softly and hoarsely, "I don't know if I can do it, partner."

"Yes, you can," Hutch said. "For Terry, you can do it."

"Gonna have to relive the whole thing."

"I know." Hutch moved his hand to Starsky's shoulder. "I'll be with you all the way."

Starsky nodded again, but did not look at Hutch.

Hutch stayed where he was, gently squeezing the shoulder under his hand and feeling the tension in the muscles there. The long dark lashes stayed down. Hutch knew there were tears in Starsky's eyes, tears Starsky didn't want him to see. It had been almost three years, but Starsky never spoke of Terry if he could help it, and when he did, there was always a tell-tale tremor in his voice. At last, Starsky drew a long, deep breath and raised his eyes, in tenuous control again. "Let's do it."

The day was long and mostly quiet. Starsky wasn't inclined to chit-chat and Hutch mostly left him to his own thoughts, taking over the driving with no argument from his partner. He knew Starsky's mind would not be on traffic.

Fortunately, it was a quiet shift, with few calls and none of them requiring much of them. The only one that caused any real adrenaline rush was a domestic disturbance, and by the time they arrived the combatants, a newly married couple, had made up. It had only been an argument, albeit a noisy one, and the neighbors had called the police as a precaution.

"We'll try to fight more quietly next time, Officer," the bride said, her eyes still a bit red from crying, but twinkling at the same time.

Hutch grinned in return. He'd answered enough domestic calls in his time to tell the difference between a real problem and a temporary disagreement. The groom, looking very much ashamed of himself, apologized profusely for "wasting" his and Starsky's time.

"It's okay," Hutch assured him. "Part of our job. We'd rather come when there's nothing wrong than miss helping out when there is."

As they drove away, the young man had his arm around his wife and was bent, whispering something that made her smile.

"Cute couple," Hutch remarked, not expecting an answer.

"Yeah," Starsky said, turning his head to watch them out of sight over his shoulder. "Makin' up's half the fun."

Hutch chuckled, but Starsky wasn't smiling, and he stopped. "You okay?"

"Yeah." And Starsky had held his peace for almost an hour after the call.

Starsky was very insistent that he didn't need Hutch to "baby-sit" him so, with many misgivings, Hutch left him at his doorstep and drove home. He let himself in with the key he now kept in his pocket – it had finally dawned on him that he shouldn't leave his key above the door – and tossed his jacket and holster into a chair. He opened the closet and reached into the back for a cardboard box with a lid. He took it to his bed and sat down, steeling himself mentally before opening it.

He reached for the slightly battered white teddy bear that lay inside. Ollie.

Three years – and he could still remember, word for word, the letter that Terry had left for him with the bear.

"Dearest Hutch,

To you I entrust Ollie and Dave. Please love them both, and don't let either one of them change."

He'd read that much aloud to his partner, through the thickness in his throat, as the words blurred in front of his tear-filled eyes. He'd looked at Starsky, whose eyes were filled with pain, and had seen the struggle as Starsky tried to be strong. And that's why he couldn't finish, couldn't read the last line to him. He'd simply stopped, and let Starsky think that was the end of the note. Someday, when Starsky could handle it, he'd told himself, he'd let him see the rest.

But that day had never come. And now, Hutch reached into the box again, and withdrew the note he'd kept. He looked down, and again tears filled his eyes as he read the last line:

"After all, what are best friends for?"

It was signed, "Love from Terry."

Starsky had never asked to see the note. Hutch knew there had also been something written inside the cover of the "1001 Ways to Win at Monopoly" book she'd left for Starsky, something Starsky had never shown him.

Hutch had tried to give Ollie to Starsky, assuming that he would want something that Terry had kept close to her, but Starsky had refused.

"No, Hutch. She wanted you to look out for him. Besides," Starsky had shaken his head, "I don't think I could stand havin' him around."

And now, even though Hutch fervently believed that Prudholm belonged in prison, not in a mental hospital, and this trial would see to it that he went to prison, he shuddered away from the thought of what the trial would put Starsky through.

Starsky sat cross-legged on his couch, with photographs scattered all around him. Through the photos he'd taken of Terry and the kids she taught, of Hutch and Christine and Terry, of Terry alone, he relived the months of falling in love with her, of their lives becoming entwined until life without her was unthinkable. Until she'd been shot, he'd never formally asked her to marry him. He hadn't had to. It was understood. Terry had refused to move in with him, insisting on keeping her own apartment – and her independence – "until it's legal," she'd said with that saucy grin. He'd grinned back and agreed.

It was so easy with Terry. She'd accepted Hutch and the two of them had become bosom buddies in no time flat. She fit into their partnership comfortably and never complained, except jokingly, when work kept Starsky out late or forced him to break a date. She had her own friends, her own life, her own career. She never tried to own Starsky or ask more of him than he was willing to give.

But he'd wanted to give her his life and his heart. And when she died, she left a hole that no one would ever fill again.

He reached for the little book that he still kept in his bedside table. It was an old joke between them, how badly he played Monopoly.

"You're just not cutthroat enough," Terry had complained with twinkling eyes. "You're too damned nice about it. You can't be nice in Monopoly." She'd sighed then, theatrically, and said, "Obviously, I'll have to handle the money when we're married. I can't trust you with it. We'd be living under a bridge in two weeks."

He'd been agreeable. "Your wish is my command," he'd said. Another old joke. He pretended she henpecked him, though theirs was the most equal give-and-take relationship he'd ever had, except the one with Hutch. In fact, Terry was a lot like Hutch in some ways. She saw through him, knew his weakness and his strength, and loved him anyway.

He opened the little book.

"Remember," she'd written, "I'll always be there. When you're alone, whenever you need me, I'll be there."

He'd never shown it to Hutch, though he'd told him, while he'd been numb and aching all at once in those first bleak moments after her death, what her last words had been. This was a message for his eyes only.

He closed his eyes, quieted his mind, and reached out. She'd been right. Whenever he needed her, when he woke up alone late at night with his heart still aching, even now, he could feel her love surrounding him, comforting him.

He was going to need that to lean on during the trial. That... and Hutch.

Hutch drove over to Starsky's apartment a little early the next morning. He wanted to make sure his partner was all right before they started their shift. The previous day was hard on both of them. Hutch knew all the pain and grief of Terry's death had just resurfaced. Not that Starsky kept it at bay all the time. Although he thought Hutch didn't know, Starsky often thought of Terry and the hole she had left in his life. Some days, he found it hard to believe he was ever going to meet another lady who would fit into his life and consume his heart as Terry had.

Hutch knocked on the door, but received no answer. He let himself in with his key and quietly stepped into the darkened living room. Starsky hadn't even opened the shutters yet.

Looking toward the sofa, he knew why. His partner was curled up on the sofa, restlessly sleeping, with "1001 Ways to Win Monopoly" held tightly against his chest. He hadn't even heard Hutch enter.

"Aw, buddy, you're still in your clothes from yesterday," Hutch quietly said as he knelt next to Starsky and gently shook his shoulder. "Come on, buddy, it's morning."

Starsky opened his eyes, completely without surprise at finding his partner in the middle of his living room. "Hutch, oh, I must have fallen asleep. I'm sorry." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, letting the book slide behind him onto the couch.

"You were supposed to be asleep, Gordo. You okay?"

"Yeah. Guess I'd better grab a quick shower."

"I'll make some coffee and breakfast. You got anything besides cold pizza?" Hutch hoped to at least get a smile out of that comment. He didn't.

"Nah, you go ahead. I've got some eggs in there. Sorry, no wheat germ or desiccated organ meats in there, though."

"Aren't you gonna eat?"

Starsky called over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door, "Not hungry."

Hutch stared at the closed door for a minute thinking about how unfair it was that something always seemed to be knocking down his partner. How could so much happen to one person? Why did it keep happening to his best friend?

While he made the coffee, Hutch called Dobey. "Mornin', Cap."

"How's he doin'?"

"Not too good. He looks pretty bad."

"I knew this was gonna be tough on him. He okay to work?"

"Yeah, he needs to work. Otherwise he's just gonna sit around this apartment not sleeping and not eating."

"Where are you two gonna start?"

"I brought home the info on the witnesses from the staged hold up. Thought we'd run them down this morning. I don't want to bring him in for a while. He needs to be out moving around and working the witnesses."

"Okay. You probably should know jury selection is starting today. They think the trial will be under way by Thursday."

"They bringing Prudholm down to lock-up?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning."

"Okay, I think I'd better keep him out of there, then, too."

"Good luck, Hutch. I know this isn't easy on you either."

"Thanks, Cap."

Next, Hutch placed a call to the hospital.

"This is Detective Ken Hutchinson, Bay City PD. I need to speak with Dr. Quo."

He reached into the refrigerator while he waited, getting out a cold Dr. Pepper for Starsky. His partner liked his caffeine cold most mornings. Seeing the bareness of Starsky's fridge made him shake his head. "Aw, Starsk. You ever gonna get back to eating right?"

"This is Dr. Quo."

"Detective Hutchinson, Dr. Quo. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, from the Terry Roberts case. Is David all right?"

He was touched both by her concern and the fact that she remembered them after so many years.

"He's fine, Doc."

"I followed the newspapers when he was shot. I also spoke with his doctor about David. He did a fine job."

"Yes, he did." Hutch smiled softly, thinking about all the people who cared about Starsky and he didn't even know it. "Dr. Quo, the man who shot Terry has been cleared to stand trial. We'd like to come over and speak with you this morning. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Certainly. I have some time around ten. Can you meet me in the cafeteria?"

"We'll see you then."

Starsky emerged from the bathroom and headed in to get dressed without a word. Hutch knew this was going to be a rough day and his primary job was going to be holding his partner together.

~*~*~*~

"Where're we goin'?" Starsky inquired, starting the car.

"To see the guy who runs the store where Terry was shot," Hutch said.

Starsky turned in his seat and studied Hutch for a moment. "We're not going to check in first?"

"I already did. From your place."

Starsky was silent, but his jaw was set in the tight line that meant it was taking everything he had not to blow.

Hutch glanced at him. "We don't have to do this, buddy. Dobey can assign someone else. The offer to take a couple of days off –"

"Is crap, and you know it," Starsky said, and his control slipped, just a little. Enough so that his voice shook, ever so slightly. Someone who didn't know him very, very well might not have even noticed it. "The last thing I need is nothin' to do. I gotta do this. I just – " His voice faltered and he turned his head away and looked out the window.

Hutch kept his eyes averted, allowing Starsky what privacy he could in the confines of the car.

After a moment, Starsky drew a deep breath, and Hutch could almost feel the effort it cost him. "I'm okay, Hutch," was all he said, but Hutch nodded.

When Starsky pulled the Torino up in front of the small store where Terry met her fate, he turned the car off and sat still for a few minutes. Hutch put his hand on Starsky's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You okay, partner?"

"Yeah, I was just remembering. . . that night."

"Want me to go in alone?"

"I'll go with you." He looked up at Hutch with eyes full of painful memories. Hutch would ask the questions. Starsky wanted it that way.

Hutch showed his ID to the man behind the counter.

"I'm Detective Hutchinson, this is Detective Starsky."

"What can I do for you officers?"

"We need to speak with John Clark. Is he here?"

The man looked uncomfortable. "Uh, no. He got himself killed in a holdup here about a year ago."

Starsky's face showed his disappointment. The store owner had been one of the witnesses that night. Their first catch and the man was dead.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Dunno exactly. Probably five years."

"Were you here on the night a young woman was shot during a robbery attempt about three years ago?"

"Yeah, I was here. Crazy dude just hauled off and shot her. She didn't do nothin', he just shot her. Had nightmares about that for a long time."

"You and me both," Starsky said as he turned and walked outside.

"The man who did it is finally coming to trial. You may be called as a witness, will you testify?"

"Yeah, I'll testify. I hope they fry him."

Hutch got the man's contact information and thanked him."Someone from the District Attorney's office will be in touch." Walking back out into the bright sunlight, Hutch saw that Starsky was sitting on the hood of the Torino, staring into space. "Starsk?"

"It's been three years, Hutch. What if we can't find the right witnesses?"

"We will, Gordo. That guy said he'd testify. Everything will be all right."

"Will it?"

"I wish I could make this easier for you, buddy. It's just gonna be hard, but I'm here."

Starsky nodded his thanks and climbed back behind the wheel, waiting for Hutch to join him for the trip to meet with Dr. Quo.

She was waiting for them in the hospital cafeteria. She already had three cups of coffee at the table when they arrived. When they were seated at the table with her, she turned to Starsky. "David, how have you been?"

"I'm all right, Doc."

"You don't look all right today, David."

Dr. Quo was perceptive. Starsky was pale and the hand holding his coffee cup was shaking almost imperceptibly. Hutch had also noticed it and he was keeping a close eye on his partner.

"It's just a little hard, Doc. You know, remembering all this about Terry."

"I know. How can I help?"

"I'm sure the District Attorney will call you as a witness."

"Yes, they also contacted me this morning. They want Terry's medical records."

Starsky stared right through her, remembering the pain of the day Terry finally succumbed to the bullet Prudholm put in her head. He remembered his anguish when Dr. Quo told him there was nothing more she could do.

"Doc, Prudholm, the man who killed Terry, has been in a psychiatric hospital for three years. He has finally been judged sane enough to stand trial for her murder. Getting a conviction is important to us."

"Don't worry, I'm going to review her file and her X-Rays. I'll be ready."

Starsky's eyes were bright and Hutch could see what a hard time he was having being there. He hadn't said much, but he did need to tell Dr. Quo something.

"Doc, I know you did everything you could for Terry. Thank you for helping at least make her comfortable."

"You're welcome, David." She reached across the table and patted him on the arm. He was very close to tears. He nodded at her, excused himself and walked out of the cafeteria.

Dr. Quo looked at Hutch, her dark eyes filled with compassion for Starsky. "He doesn't look good. Please see that he gets some rest."

"I know, Doc. This is so hard on him. He needs to do this, though. Maybe when this is all over, he finally will be able to have some peace about Terry."

"I hope so. If you need me, if he does, please call me. I'd like to help."

"Thanks. I'd better go find out where he went now." Hutch shook her hand gratefully and left in search of his partner.

He caught up with Starsky, sitting outside on a bench in the sun. Maybe this was just going to be too much for his friend. He wondered how Starsky would handle it when they called him as a witness.

"Hey. How about we go back to your place for a while. Take a break from these interviews."

"I'm okay."

"Well, you haven't eaten anything yet. Want to go over to Huggy's for a bite?"

Starsky turned and looked at his best friend. He knew Hutch would do anything in his power to shield him from pain, but he could feel that Hutch was hurting, too.

"How are YOU doing, Blondie?"

"Hurts. Feels kinda good to be doing something about it, though."

"You're right. Let's keep moving. Okay?" Starsky slid off the bench and started for the car, and as he passed Hutch, he gave him a little pat on the arm. That gesture told Hutch "thanks for being here" more clearly than words would have. He bit his lower lip, swallowed, and followed Starsky to the car.

The next nearest place was the school where Terry had taught. Starsky turned the car that direction without even discussing it with Hutch. He pulled up at the curb and sat quietly for a moment, his eyes on the basketball court, but the expression in them was far away.

"I haven't been here for a long time," Starsky said, as if speaking to himself. He sighed and let his eyes wander over to the picnic tables that stood along the side of the asphalt. Hutch waited and watched his partner's face. He could almost hear the voices of the kids and the sound of sneakers on blacktop, though at this hour the playground was deserted. The two picnic tables were empty now, but still sat in roughly the same positions they had then...this was where Starsky had come after Terry died, to be alone, to try to come to grips with what had happened.

"You ready?" Starsky asked, opening his door.

"Yeah." Hutch followed him into the school.

Starsky walked straight to the administrator's office without pausing, while Hutch followed behind, and when they reached it, Starsky paused, straightened his shoulders, and walked in. He stopped at the counter and cleared his throat. The secretary looked up. "Yes, sir?"

Starsky produced his badge. "Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson. May we see Mrs. Rachman, please?"

"She retired last year," the secretary said. "Would you like to talk to Mr. Getty? He's her replacement."

Starsky glanced at Hutch and that hopeless look was back in his eyes, saying as clearly as words, "Another witness gone."

But Hutch's mind was working more clearly than his partner's. "Wasn't he a teacher before? Jack Getty?"

The secretary nodded. "He taught the high school children until he took over as administrator."

"You remember him, Starsk," Hutch prodded. "He was the P.E. teacher, too."

"May I tell him what this is about?" the secretary asked.

Starsky glanced at Hutch again.

"Terry Roberts," Hutch said. The secretary nodded and picked up the phone and Hutch leaned closer to Starsky and whispered, "We can still interview Mrs. Rachman. It doesn't matter if she's retired."

"I know," Starsky said. "Life goes on."

Hutch didn't have an answer to that, and was saved from having to think of one by Getty's appearance in his office door.

"Dave! Ken! Come in!" He smiled at both of them. "It's been too long."

Starsky and Hutch glanced at each other and obeyed Getty's gesture to enter his office. Taking a couple of chairs, they sat down and waited while Getty closed the door and seated himself. Then the smile disappeared from his face.

"I know why you're here," he said quietly. "The secretary's new. She wasn't here...when Terry was. How are you doing, Dave?"

"I'm okay," Starsky said in a tone that told he was anything but.

Getty nodded and flicked his eyes to Hutch. "We really miss Terry," he said. "She was so good with the shy kids especially. Sally blossomed in her class. You should see her now, Dave. She's started helping with the younger kids and she's wonderful with them."

Starsky smiled a little. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I'll bet Sally'd love to say hello," Getty went on.

Starsky's lashes fell and Hutch gave Getty a "back off" look.

Getty understood. "What can I do for you guys?"

"Prudholm – the guy who murdered Terry – is going to trial," Hutch said, taking over. "We need to line up our witnesses. We came to see Mrs. Rachman, since she was in charge when Terry was here, but we'll need you, too. You were here the day Terry – " He couldn't finish.

"Yes, I was," Getty said. "I remember how upset the kids were. They knew something was wrong, but they didn't know what until later. Thanks for breaking it to them, Ken."

Starsky turned and looked at Hutch. He hadn't known that.

Hutch returned the look. "Can you tell us how to reach Mrs. Rachman?"

"Sure. She's living in Ojai, near her daughter. I have her number somewhere." Getty poked through his desk until he found an address book and a piece of paper. He paged through the book for a few moments and copied a number onto the paper, leaning across the desk to hand it to Hutch. "What will you want from me, when the time comes?"

"The D.A. will go over that with you," Hutch said. "Mostly, I think, he'll want you to tell about Terry's work here and how she's missed and what kind of impact she had on the children. That kind of thing."

"I'll be glad to," Getty said.

Hutch glanced at Starsky again. He'd had all he could take, so Hutch touched his arm. "Come on, buddy. Let's go."

Starsky nodded and rose. He offered his hand to Getty, but didn't speak. Getty gripped it hard. "Take care, Dave."

Starsky nodded again and left the room.

"Ken," Getty said as Hutch turned to follow him. Hutch waited. "Is he really okay?"

Hutch shrugged. "I don't know, Jack. As okay as you can be when some thug has killed your lady to get back at you."

Getty winced. "Yeah."

They left the school and had started to cross the sidewalk when a young voice called out, "Mr. Dave! Mr. Dave, wait!"

Both men turned and saw Sally, looking much the same age, but with a new air of maturity about her. She was waving with her arm over her head and she trotted out of the school and down the sidewalk toward them.

"I just want to say I'm sorry," Sally said, stopping in front of Starsky and looking up at him. "About Miss Roberts. I never got to tell you before. I miss her a lot."

"So do I," Starsky said, his eyes suspiciously bright. He opened his arms and Sally, shy Sally who had hardly been able to look another person in the eye before Terry started working with her, gave him a hug. As they approached the Torino, Starsky wordlessly handed Hutch his keys. Hutch took them and walked around to the driver's side, peering at his partner over the roof of the car. Starsky looked completely drained. He knew the man needed to breathe a little.

Hutch slid in behind the wheel.

"Well, buddy, I don't know 'bout you, but I'm kinda hungry. Thirsty too."

Starsky just nodded.

"Let's head over to Huggy's. Well take a lunch break, and then go on into the precinct to check in with Dobey.

"I'm not hungry, Hutch."

"I know, partner, but you can at least get something to drink. You haven't had anything all day."

"All right."

Hutch pulled away from the curb and headed for The Pits.

When they walked into The Pits, Huggy looked up and gave them his usual cheerful greeting.

"Well, if it ain't my two favorite flat feet."

"Hi, Hug," Hutch said. Starsky just gave him a small jerk of his chin in greeting. Then he immediately excused himself to wash up before lunch, quickly walking toward the men's room.

"Man, what's up with Curly? Looked like he was gonna cry."

"It's about Terry, Hug. Prudholm is finally going to be tried for her murder."

Huggy whistled. "Heavy."

"Yeah. We've been interviewing witnesses all morning. I think he's about at the end of his rope."

"I bet he's refusin' to eat again, but the Bear is on it anyhow. I'll whip up a Starsky special. See if he'll give it try."

"Thanks, Huggy. I don't know what we'd do without you, man."

When Starsky returned, Hutch could tell he'd been crying and his heart nearly broke. His poor partner had suffered so much over Terry. He hoped this was going to help. Starsky wearily climbed onto a barstool next to Hutch.

"Where'd Huggy go?"

"He's in the kitchen whipping up a Starsky special."

"Oh, Hutch, I can't eat it."

"You should try. Wouldn't want to hurt Huggy's feelings would ya?"

"Huggy'll understand."

"Yeah, he will, but please try anyway."

"Okay."

Starsky managed to get in a few bites of his lunch. At least Huggy was successful in getting him to drink a couple of sodas. The extent of Starsky's contribution to their conversation was nods and an occasional "Uh-huh." He was becoming withdrawn and Hutch was worried.

As they got up to leave, Huggy put a hand on Starsky's arm and gave it a little squeeze.

"Hang in there, my man."

"Thanks, Hug. I will."

The two men walked back out into the afternoon sunlight, an excellent excuse for Starsky to pull on a pair of dark sunglasses. He thought maybe he could hide behind them for a while.

"Time to go in and report on these interviews, partner. You up for it?"

"Sure."

"You makin' it okay?"

"Yeah."

Hutch knew his best friend was in trouble. He hadn't heard anything more eloquent than single syllable words and grunts from Starsky in the past hour. After they filled out their reports and talked to Dobey, Hutch would take Starsky home and stay with him. No way was he going to leave his buddy alone tonight. Starsky hadn't looked this fragile or this close to the edge in a long time.

Street parking near the precinct was nonexistent in the afternoon and this day was no exception. They tried to avoid parking in the precinct garage whenever possible. Both men had too many bad memories of another day they had parked there. This time Hutch found a space he could back the Torino into, leaving neither side totally exposed. Starsky gave him a slight, but appreciative smile. The space was near the door to prisoner intake and a van was just pulling into the drive in front of that door. The side of the van said, "Caballo Point Psychiatric Hospital."

Hutch noticed it immediately. Damn. I hope that's not Prudholm. Dobey said he’d be here tomorrow. Damn. He tried to turn his gaze elsewhere, preventing Starsky from seeing what he had seen, but it was too late. Starsky had already seen the van.

They both watched as the door opened and George Prudholm was led from the van in shackles.

Hutch watched Starsky carefully, subconsciously positioning himself between his partner and Prudholm. He tried hard to keep in the line of sight, so Prudholm could not make eye contact with Starsky.

He watched as Starsky took off the sunglasses and stared in pained silence at the man who shattered his life. When he looked toward the van, he saw Prudholm stop abruptly and look their way. He was looking directly at Starsky. Only twenty feet separated the two men. Prudholm had a look of smug satisfaction on his face. The same one he had worn the last day Hutch saw him as they carted him out of court and back to the mental hospital.

Prudholm stopped and smiled his evil smile at Starsky. He spoke.

"Hello, Starsky. Still single?"

Hutch watched and heard Starsky snap. He started toward Prudholm, rage playing out across his face. Hutch quickly stepped closer and blocked him. He put his hands on either side of his friend and struggled to keep him from reaching his target. Hutch turned and yelled to a couple of uniforms standing in the doorway near Prudholm. "Get him inside. Now!"

"Let me go, Hutch."

"No, Starsk. Let it be."

Thankfully, the other officers quickly moved Prudholm inside and out of sight. Starsky stopped struggling against his partner. The adrenaline rush and his feelings of grief had nowhere to go. He started to shake uncontrollably and he dropped his sunglasses to the ground, ignoring them as they shattered into as many pieces as his psyche.

Hutch pulled his best friend into a hug.

"Let it go, babe. It'll be okay. I'm right here."

He was afraid Starsky was going to fall down, so Hutch kept one arm around his friend's shoulders as he led him inside the back door to the precinct where he could sit down in the air conditioned building and recover. He could not believe what Prudholm had said to Starsky. The man was evil. He may never have been insane, but he had always been evil.

Somehow Hutch got Starsky upstairs without encountering too many other officers. Starsky's face had gone a pasty gray color and Hutch was alarmed. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Starsky jerked his arm away from Hutch and dashed down the hall to the men's room. Hutch hurried after him and through the door just as Starsky went to his knees in front of the nearest toilet.

There was nothing Hutch could do for him until it was over, and by then he was waiting with a cool, wet handful of paper towel. Wordlessly, he used it to wipe Starsky's sweaty face, running it down the back of his neck, too.

Starsky sagged back into a sitting position, with his back against the stall, too weak and spent to even stand, and let Hutch take care of him.

Hutch tossed the towels toward the trash without bothering to see if they went in. His eyes were filling, too. "Can you stand up, buddy?" he asked gently.

Starsky mutely nodded, and Hutch held out his hands to help him. When Starsky was upright, Hutch slid an arm around his back. Starsky leaned against him as they went to the mercifully empty squad room. The only occupant was a young officer typing a report, and he never even raised his head as they came in and went to their own desk across the room. Hutch got Starsky into a chair.

"I'll be right back," he said, reaching into his pocket for change. He went back into the hall, to the soda machine, and brought back a 7-Up. "Here," he said, setting it down in front of Starsky. "Sip that, slowly. It'll settle you down."

Starsky obeyed, still without speaking. And that worried Hutch more than anything else. He sat down in the next chair, pulling it into a position that would allow his body to block the sight of Starsky from the other officer and from anyone who happened to come in. Starsky's face had regained a little color, but not enough, and his eyes were rimmed with exhausted dark circles. Hutch forced down the lump in his own throat and reached out with one hand to grasp his partner's hand. He slid the other around Starsky's shoulders and gently stroked the curls at his collar. Damn whoever might see them.

Starsky's hand wrapped around Hutch's tightly and they sat there in silence for several minutes.

"Hutch," Starsky said hoarsely at last, "I wanna go home."

"Sure, buddy. Let me tell Dobey, okay? Will you be okay for a minute?"

Starsky nodded.

Hutch tapped once on Dobey's door and opened it. Dobey was on the phone, but he waved Hutch in.

"What time are you doing the interrogation?" Dobey asked. He nodded a couple of times. "All right. I'll inform them...damned right they're going to be there! They're the arresting officers, as you'd know if you'd read the report!" He glared at the phone briefly, then relaxed. "No, that's probably a good idea. I doubt if Starsky wants to be in the same room with him, anyway. All right, Mark. See you tomorrow." He hung up and looked at Hutch. "They're questioning Prudholm tomorrow. He's already demanded his lawyer, so I doubt if he has much to say. I've arranged for you and Starsky to observe."

Hutch glanced over his shoulder and reached out to push the door closed. "Captain, I don't know if that's a good idea."

Dobey raised his eyebrows and glanced toward the door, too. "How bad is he?"

Hutch shook his head and wet his lips. "Pretty bad."

Dobey sighed. "I guess I thought after three years, it wouldn't hurt so much."

"He loved her, Captain."

"Yeah, I know," Dobey said. "Take him home, Hutch. The interrogation isn't until ten. Don't bother coming in until then. Let him sleep late and maybe he'll feel a little better."

Hutch doubted that, and he also doubted Starsky would get much sleep, but he nodded. "Thanks." He rose to go, but Dobey motioned to him.

"Hutch," he paused. "One of you has to be there tomorrow. Can you handle it?"

Hutch nodded. "I'll take care of it. But you know Starsky. He'll probably insist on being there, too." He considered for a moment. "Don't let on to Prudholm he's there, and maybe he won't say anything to hurt him." He repeated for Dobey what had happened outside.

Dobey visibly blanched at Prudholm's remark to Starsky. "God," he said and was silent for several beats. "I'll tell Mark," he said. "Prudholm won't know."

"Thanks." Hutch went back out to the squad room and found his partner in exactly the same position he'd left him. His heart twisted at Starsky's defeated posture. "Hey, buddy. Let's go home, huh?"

Starsky nodded and stood, swaying a little. Hutch put his arm around him again and led him through the double doors.

There was no question who would drive. Hutch loaded Starsky into the passenger side of the Torino and drove to Starsky's place. When they got there, he helped Starsky up the stairs and as far as the couch. Through it all, Starsky never uttered a word. The photographs he'd been looking at the night before were still scattered over the coffee table, and Hutch briefly considered picking them up and putting them away, but he saw Starsky's eyes feasting on them hungrily, even though he didn't reach for any of them, and he thought better of it. Instead, he tossed his jacket on a chair.

"Want something to drink?"

Starsky shook his head, so Hutch went into the kitchen and got a glass of ice water for himself, a big glass. Maybe Starsky would manage to keep a few swallows down. He came back, set the glass where Starsky could reach it, and sat beside him.

"What can I do, buddy?" he asked.

"Nothin'," Starsky said. "It's just gotta be got through is all." His eyes were too bright, and he slid out of his jacket. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay," Hutch said, watching as Starsky rose, slowly and painfully, like a much older man, and went toward his bedroom. He kept his own composure long enough for the bathroom door to close behind his partner, then allowed his own tears to fall.

Starsky was in the bathroom a long time, long enough for Hutch to get his own sorrow back under control and to start worrying about him. But the water shut off at last and Hutch drew a deep breath. He had to be strong enough to support Starsky. It wasn't going to do either of them any good for Hutch to crumble. As hard as the last couple of days had been, the next days were going to be one hell of a lot worse.

He looked a little better after the shower. Still tired and sad, but a little more relaxed. No, not relaxed, more like drained.

"Hey, buddy. Feeling any better?"

Starsky just shrugged his shoulders as he sat down on the couch.

"Don't suppose you want anything to eat."

This time he only shook his head. Hutch was so worried. Seeing his best friend withdraw like this was not a good sign.

"I think I'll order some Chinese food. Maybe you'll feel like it later."

Starsky looked at him and sighed. As if preparing to say his next sentence was going to take every bit of remaining energy he had.

"Look, Hutch. I'm not gonna be very good company tonight. Why don't you just go on home, huh?"

"I think I'd rather just crash here tonight, Gordo."

"No need. I'll be okay."

"I know you will, buddy. Still, I'd rather stay."

Starsky looked at him with a mixture of profound sadness and gratitude, his eyes conveying the message of thanks.

"I'm sorry I lost it, Hutch."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Starsk. What he said to you . . . ."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry, Starsk. It just makes me so angry!" Hutch stood up and paced around the apartment attempting to disperse his rage over what Prudholm had said to Starsky.

"Seeing him like that, I just . . . lost it."

"You going to be able to do this?"

"Have to, Hutch. For Terry."

"For you, too, pal."

Starsky nodded. "What's next, Hutch? Why'd they bring him down today?"

Hutch was dreading telling his partner about the interrogation. He knew Starsky would want to be there and he was concerned about what it would do to him.

"Um, uh, interrogation t-tomorrow."

Starsky smiled just a little. Poor Hutch tended to stammer when he was upset about something, especially if it had to do with Starsky.

"When."

"You don't have to be there."

"Yes, I do."

"N-No, I can handle it."

"You're hurting, too, Hutch."

Starsky didn't miss much where Hutch was concerned. He didn't attempt to deny it.

"I know. Please, let me do it alone."

"Nope"

Resigned, Hutch answered his question. "Ten. Dobey said not to come in before then."

Starsky nodded his understanding and slowly stood. "Okay, partner. WE'LL be there."

"You going to bed?"

"Yeah. Night."

Hutch watched him walk dejectedly toward his bedroom. Please let him at least sleep well.

Several hours later, Hutch was jolted awake by the sound of Starsky yelling Terry's name in his sleep. Before he could get up off the couch and go in to wake Starsky up, he saw him come running out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. Hutch followed him in there and stood by helplessly while Starsky heaved again. He hadn't eaten anything, so there wasn't much for him to lose.

When he was finally back in control, Hutch sat next to him on the bathroom floor, handing him a glass of water and wiping his face just like he had done in the afternoon.

Starsky was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating.

"Oh, God, Hutch!"

"Sh, I'm here, buddy"

"How'm I gonna do this?"

"You can do it. I'll be there with you."

They had nothing left to say. Starsky sat on the floor, quiet tears streaming down his face. All Hutch could do was offer his shoulder in comfort. That was how they spent the rest of the night. Starsky was finally exhausted enough to sleep a little bit around dawn. Hutch let him sleep as long as he could, then woke him around nine to get ready for their trip into the precinct. He knew this part of the journey was going to be difficult.

Starsky was composed when they reached the precinct. Hutch still hadn't gotten him to eat anything, but at least he didn't seem sick anymore. Hutch was worried about the almost blank look on his face. He didn't like the thought that Starsky was checked out instead of feeling, even if those feelings would hurt like hell.

They paused at the observation room door, Hutch putting his hand on Starsky's shoulder and turning him around gently.

"You sure you want to do this?"

Starsky nodded the affirmative.

They walked into the room and closed the door behind them. Positioning himself in a chair in front of the observation mirror, Starsky steeled himself for whatever was about to happen. Captain Dobey walked in right after they did, stopping to pat Starsky reassuringly on the shoulder before he moved to a chair in the corner of the room.

Within a few minutes, the District Attorney walked into the room accompanied by James Olin, Prudholm's attorney. Olin shook hands with the D.A. and they took their seats.

"Any chance we can do a plea bargain, Johnson?"

Starsky stiffened in his chair and Hutch placed a hand on his forearm reassuringly.

"You must be joking, Olin. Murder one, all the way."

Starsky relaxed a little.

"You'll never get it. He was insane."

"You know, Olin, I doubt that. What he did was calculating and cold. He pursued that poor woman like a wolf after its prey. He lay in wait for her. That's a death penalty pop as far as my office is concerned."

Hutch was watching Starsky carefully, ready to intervene if necessary. So far, he looked all right, but Prudholm hadn't appeared yet.

As if on cue to Hutch's thoughts, George Prudholm was escorted into the room by two uniforms. He was seated in a chair. One of the uniforms stood in the corner of the interrogation room and the other left to stand outside the door.

Starsky leaned forward, his forearms on his knees and his hands clenched into tight fists. He was pale, and his focus was riveted on the man who killed the love of his life.

The D.A. began, "George Prudholm, you are about to go on trial for the murder of Terry Roberts. Do you understand the charges?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"You should know that the District Attorney's office also intends to prosecute you for the attempted murder of police detectives Starsky and Hutchinson, and for holding two innocent women hostage at gunpoint before you were apprehended. Those charges will be levied against you in a separate trial."

"I never tried to kill those two. If I had, they'd be dead!"

Olin turned to Prudholm and advised him to be quiet about that

"I was under the impression you had attempted to blow at least Detective Hutchinson away with a rigged shotgun."

"All right, Johnson, let's stick to the current charges."

Prudholm pasted an evil smile on his face. He said nothing else. Hutch looked at him and started to worry that the man might know he and his partner were watching. Prudholm was looking past his attorney, right at the mirror. Hutch looked back to Starsky. He was beginning to shake. Hutch quietly moved his chair closer to Starsky and put an arm around his shoulders. The trembling he felt scared him. He couldn't help wondering how much more Starsky could take.

Johnson continued. "You know if you plead guilty, you won't get the gas chamber."

"Go to hell. I'm not pleading guilty. For what? Wiping some stupid chick off the face of the Earth? Who cares."

Starsky was starting to sweat and the shaking was getting worse. Hutch was afraid he was going to get sick again.

Prudholm continued to look at the mirror with increasing intensity.

"Prudholm! You don't have to answer him. This isn't a courtroom."

"Shut up."

Johnson said, "Prudholm, I just want to know one thing from you. Why."

"Don't answer that!"

"I said shut up! I'll tell you why"

Prudholm paused and looked at the mirror directly at where Starsky sat. If Hutch didn't know better, he would have thought the man could see them.

"I wanted to hurt Starsky. He killed my son. I wanted to destroy his life just like he did mine. I only wish I'd succeeded in blowing away his precious partner. Right in front of him, that's what I wanted."

Olin jumped up and said, "That's it, this interview is over." Prudholm had one more thing to say, though.

"If I had to do it again, the only thing I'd change is making it more painful. I shoulda messed her up first. Starsky's little slut died too easy. I shoulda made him watch me do her, then killed both of 'em."

"Prudholm!" Starsky roared, coming out of his chair and throwing himself at the glass so quickly that Hutch couldn't move fast enough to stop him. He shot out of his chair right behind Starsky, however, and grabbed his partner's shoulders. The room was soundproof; there was no way Prudholm could have heard Starsky, but the way the man was staring fixedly at the mirror, with that cold glitter in his eyes and a self-satisfied grin on his face, Hutch could have sworn he HAD heard.

"Whatsa matter, Starsky?" Prudholm said clearly, his eyes boring right into Starsky's. "You want a piece of me? You had your chance in that grocery warehouse."

Starsky was trembling so violently that his shaking shook Hutch, too, and his fists were white-knuckled.

"Easy, buddy, easy," Hutch said desperately. "He's trying to get to you. He wants to make you crazy. Don't let him, Starsk. Don't let him!"

Starsky drew back his hand to strike the mirror, but Hutch grabbed it and braced himself. After several tense moments, Starsky relaxed, marginally. And Hutch gently pushed him until he backed away from the window.

"I thought we agreed Prudholm wouldn't know he was here!" Hutch barked at Dobey, who had watched the whole thing in stunned silence.

"We didn't tell him," Dobey said defensively.

"Nobody had to," Starsky said, his voice tight. "He just knew. Where else would I be?"

In the interrogation room, Olin was sweating. "George, come on. Don't say any more. Let's go."

"We'll see you in court," Johnson said coldly. "Get him out of here."

The uniformed officers escorted Prudholm away and Starsky sagged against Hutch. Hutch backed him into his chair and knelt beside it.

Starsky closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. His face had gone that pasty gray color again and Hutch could actually see the pulse pounding in his throat.

There was a knock on the door and Johnson poked his head through, took in the scene, and came the rest of the way in, closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry, Sergeant," he said to Starsky. "We didn't tell him you were here, but he must've guessed."

Starsky opened his eyes and though they glittered with emotion, he nodded. "'S okay, Counselor."

Johnson shifted his weight uncertainly. "I'll be in touch to go over your testimony. We go to trial on Thursday."

Starsky nodded, and Hutch squeezed his arm gently.

Johnson stood there another moment, then with a glance at Dobey, he said, "Uh, well, I'll give you a call." He left.

"Starsky," Dobey said quietly, "I'm giving the two of you the rest of the day off." He raised a hand when Starsky opened his mouth. "Don't argue with me. Go home. Go fishing. Go somewhere else. I don't want you here, and you don't need to be here. This trial is important. I want you to be able to handle it." His voice softened. "Please, Dave. You've been through enough."

Starsky dropped his eyes and nodded. "Okay, Cap. Thanks."

Dobey stood and patted his shoulder. He left the room.

"Didja hear that?" Starsky said, his voice shaking, but vainly attempting a light touch anyway. "He called me 'Dave.'"

Hutch smiled in spite of himself. "I heard. You always were his favorite."

Starsky tried to smile back, but his eyes were filling and he closed them again.

Aw, buddy. Hutch felt the lump rise in his throat and tried to choke it down. "Come on. I'm taking you to Waffle House and you're going to eat."

"No, please," Starsky said, reaching out to touch Hutch's hair. "Let's go home, huh? I got bacon and eggs and stuff. I can't – I don't want nobody to see me right now."

Hutch nodded.

When they got to Starsky's, Starsky started for the kitchen as soon as he'd taken his jacket off.

"I'll do it, buddy," Hutch said. "You sit down. You haven't eaten anything and you look like hell."

"I need to be doin' something," Starsky said. "I can't just sit."

Hutch bit his lip, but let him. He sat on the couch and listened to the sounds of Starsky cooking, and his eyes fell on the scattered photographs. He picked up a handful and went through them. Mostly they were just snapshots.

But one in particular made Hutch freeze when he found it. Terry was leaning against a tree, the sunlight dappled on her hair and shoulders as it fell through the leaves over her head. Starsky stood next to her, looking at her instead of the camera, one hand resting casually at her waist. Both were beaming. They looked so happy....

For some reason, it was just too much. The tension of the last couple of days, the strain of trying to be strong for Starsky when his own heart was aching, all spilled over and the photograph blurred before his eyes. He covered his face with one hand and tried to get a grip.

"Hey." The couch shifted as Starsky sat beside him and Hutch struggled for control. Starsky's arm went around his shoulders as Starsky pulled Hutch's head against his shoulder. "Let it out, boy," Starsky said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion. "Get it over with. And quit tryin' to be so tough. I know you're hurtin', too."

Hutch sat and cried with his best friend. He cried for Terry, for Starsky, and for himself. "Starsk," he managed to squeak out, "I loved her, too."

"I know, buddy, I know. Just get it all out." Suddenly, Starsky was the strong one. Offering comfort to Hutch when his own reserves where empty. That was the way of their relationship. Give and take, comforting and comforted, Me and Thee. They sat together like that for long minutes, neither man saying anything. Finally, Hutch sat back from Starsky's shoulder and looked at him, his eyes red rimmed and still wet with tears.

"I know how much he hurt you. Nobody knows better than me." He sniffed and took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "I can't stand to hear that turkey say those things about Terry. Worse than what he says, Starsk, I hate what it's doing to you. Terry can't be hurt anymore, but you can. "

"I'm gonna make it through, Hutch. He ain't gonna get me, buddy. He's just a sicko."

Who was Starsky trying to kid? Himself? Hutch? Neither one of them was buying it.

"That's just it, Starsk. I'm not so sure. The man may not be a regular sicko. Buddy, I think he's just evil. He's evil and I don't want you anywhere near him."

"Ah, Hutch, you know I have to be at the trial."

"Yeah, as a witness. You don't have to sit there through the whole thing."

"Yes, I do."

Hutch took both of Starsky's hands in his and looked him in the eyes. He prayed his friend couldn't resist the look he was giving him. "Please, Starsk. Let me go alone. Don't be there every day."

Starsky looked away from Hutch knowing that another moment looking into Hutch's pleading eyes and he might waver. He couldn't do that, though. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, Hutch. Don't ask me that. You know I have to do it. For Terry and for me."

Hutch dropped his eyes to the floor and his shoulders slumped. He said almost too quietly for his partner to hear, "I know, Gordo. I just want to protect you any way I can."

Starsky needed to change the subject, "Hey, can I leave you alone for a minute? I'm supposed to be fixing you something to eat."

"You're supposed to be fixing US something to eat."

"You've got me there, partner." Starsky smiled, patted Hutch on the shoulder and headed for the kitchen.

Hutch did manage to coax Starsky into eating half of what was on his plate. Then he prayed his friend would be able to hold onto it. Having pulled himself back together, he had moved back into protective mode and was thinking about how he was going to keep Starsky's mind off of things for the rest of the day. Though he had to twist Starsky's arm, he talked him into going to the movies, then for a long walk on the beach. Hutch was hoping to tire him out a little so he could get a better night's sleep. Then they went over to Hutch's place to pick some things up for him. They both knew Hutch would be spending the night again.

Over at Hutch's apartment, Starsky had gone down to the corner market to pick up a six-pack for them while Hutch watered his plants. Captain Dobey called while Starsky was gone.

"I hoped I'd catch you there. Can you talk?"

"Yeah, he went to the store for a few minutes. You have something?"

"Yeah. Is he any better?"

"Better than this morning. He's a little less withdrawn. We went to the movies and the beach. I think he's getting tired."

"Good. He's going to need his strength. The jury is seated. D.A. Johnson wants to talk to both of you. I don't want Starsky down here again until Thursday at the trial. Can I tell Johnson to go to Starsky's house tomorrow to talk to you?"

"Yeah, Cap. Good thinking. I tried to talk him out of sitting in on the trial."

"Snowball's chance in hell, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Keep an eye on him, Hutch. I didn't like what I saw in his eyes this afternoon. Can't say I blame him, though. Prudholm really hurt him today."

"Yeah, he did."

"I'll tell Johnson to stop by Starsky's place at two tomorrow. Okay?"

"Great. If he has another rough night, maybe he can sleep through the morning."

Hutch heard Starsky approaching the front door. "He's back, Cap."

"Call me if you need me."

"Thanks."

Hutch hung up the phone just as Starsky was walking into the living room.

"Dobey?"

"Yeah. The D.A. is coming over to your place at two tomorrow. The jury is seated and they're ready to start day after tomorrow."

Starsky nodded. "You done watering your jungle?"

"Yep. Let's go on back over to your place. We can watch the game."

"Sounds good, Blondie. Lead the way."

Hutch was glad to hear a little lightness back in Starsky's voice. Maybe another day away from the case and all of its implications would give him the strength he needed.

Back at Starsky's, the evening passed uneventfully. They watched the game and finished that six-pack over the next few hours. Starsky was still pale, but he had kept the food down and seemed a little better. He disappeared for another long shower, worrying Hutch, but when he came out, he still looked all right.

Taking his turn in the bathroom, Hutch was upset to find a bottle of sleeping pills sitting on the counter. For a fleeting moment, he felt a sense of panic. He actually opened the bottle and started to count the pills before shaking his head. Geez, Hutchinson, get a grip already. Still....

He went into the kitchen where Starsky was drinking a glass of chocolate milk and said, "Starsk, what's with the sleeping pills?"

"Relax, buddy. You know I hate those things but I really need to be able to sleep tonight. I don't want to dream either, know what I mean?"

"You shouldn't take those when you've been drinking."

"I know, Mom. I only took one, so chill. I'm okay."

Starsky was both annoyed and touched by Hutch's concern. The man didn't miss a thing. Next time he wouldn't forget to put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet.

The sleeping pill worked. Starsky slept through the night and never stirred. Hutch was grateful he hadn't needed to help his friend through another nightmare. Starsky needed the sleep. On the other hand, Hutch had a rough night. His restless sleep was interrupted by a series of bad dreams. The dreams were about Terry's death, and worse than that, Starsky's. Adding to his restlessness, the couch was not comfortable. Two nights on it in a row had Hutch's back as stiff as it had been in a long time. He made himself a silent promise to save enough money to buy Starsky a sofa bed for his birthday.

Hutch got up early and peeked in on Starsky. He was still sound asleep, so Hutch went out for his run. He brought bagels back for breakfast, then took a shower. Starsky still wasn't awake by the time the coffee was made and Hutch had no intention of waking him. He slept until ten.

"Hey, Hutch! Why'd ya let me sleep so late?"

Hutch looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "If you slept late, you needed it."

He smiled. His friend was looking a little better.

Starsky shuffled into the kitchen to get some coffee. "Hey, bagels! Thanks, buddy. You already eat?"

"Nope. Waitin' for you. You hungry, partner?"

"A little. Thanks for the bagels. You make chicken soup, too?"

They ate their breakfast and puttered around the apartment for the next four hours waiting for the D.A. Starsky was looking stronger and Hutch was wishing he didn't have to go through the next several days. He'd take Starsky over to Huggy's for a good dinner in case it was the last one he got his partner to eat for the next few days.

Mark Johnson was on time. The three men sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and discussing the trial. Hutch kept a wary eye on his partner.

"First, let's talk about your testimony. You'll both be called to the stand. Hutch, you will testify as an arresting officer and a witness to what happened to Terry. Starsky, you will also testify as an arresting officer, as a witness, and as Terry's fiancé. I want you to talk about what he did to you."

Hutch intervened, "Is that necessary?"

"Only if you want a conviction."

Starsky's jaw was set. "I can do it."

"Good, I also want you to testify about any conversations you had with him and how he wanted to hurt you because of the death of his son."

Again, Starsky nodded.

"When are you going to call him?"

"Last thing on Thursday. I want the jury to have him in their minds when we close for the day. He will probably still be on the stand Friday morning, though."

Starsky got up to get some more coffee. Hutch knew he was trying to maintain his balance.

"I think you should know a few other things. Starsky, I want you in the courtroom every day. Whenever anyone is testifying, I want you right out front for the jury to see."

"Sounds like you're planning to use him for effect!" Hutch was angry.

"I am. I know that sounds terrible, but you want him to go down, don't you?"

"Yes."

The lawyer looked at him, knowing how hard this was going to be. "I'm sorry, Hutch. This is going to be difficult. Starsky, you need to keep your composure and it's not going to be easy."

"I know, I know." He was losing his patience.

"All right. We are going to show some home movies of Terry that were made at the school. Also, I want you to be prepared for their witnesses."

Starsky swallowed and looked distressed at the prospect of watching movies of Terry. Hutch put a hand on his arm and looked at him in support.

"They are going to call in a psychiatrist to show that Prudholm is sick. They have also subpoenaed Lonnie Craig's mother as a hostile witness."

"What!" Hutch was furious. "Why?" Starsky had killed Lonnie Craig in self-defense following a hold up and Prudholm had blamed him for it. He related Lonnie's death to his own son's death.

"They probably want to show what it feels like to love someone that Starsky has destroyed."

"That stinks! "

"I know, that's why she's a hostile witness. They are also going to call Prudholm's partner, Woody the Magic Man. Then there is a list of witnesses from Caballo Point. Finally, they will probably have Prudholm on the stand. I know Olin doesn't want him to testify, but he is insisting. Even though it's good for us, having him up there will give him the chance to say things you might not want to hear."

"Okay, enough. What time do I have to be there tomorrow?"

"I want you there first thing, that's at nine."

They spent the next two hours going over the questions and their testimony. Starsky was already looking edgy. Hutch knew he was going to have a hard time keeping his partner together through this trial. He had no more time to feel bad himself, he had to be strong for Starsky.

~*~*~*~

"How do I look?" Starsky asked as they climbed the courthouse steps.

"You look fine," Hutch said, patting his back. "Question is, how do you feel?"

"I'll make it," Starsky said with grim determination.

The courtroom was crowded. The story in yesterday's paper recapping the case and making a big point of Starsky's relationship with Terry had probably drawn out the ghouls. Starsky kept his eyes focused straight ahead as they walked in and went to the seats Johnson waved them to, behind the prosecution's table.

"How're you doing, Sergeant?"

"Fine," Starsky said shortly.

"Okay. Just checking." Johnson turned back to his notes.

A few minutes later, the guards brought Prudholm into the courtroom. They seated him next to his lawyer and Olin leaned over to confer with him, but Prudholm's eyes were fixed on Starsky and he impatiently waved his lawyer away.

"All rise."

The judge came through the chamber door and sat down. There was a rustle as the gallery seated themselves.

"Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Joseph Greanias presiding."

Greanias shuffled the papers in front of him and looked at Prudholm. "George Prudholm, you stand accused of the murder of Teresa Renee Roberts. You have pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. Does that plea stand?"

"It does, your honor," Olin said, rising.

"Mr. Johnson, you may commence your opening statement."

Johnson rose and approached the jury box. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We are here today because the State is confident we can prove this man," he indicated Prudholm, "murdered Miss Roberts in cold blood as an act of revenge against her fiancé, Detective Sergeant David Starsky. Miss Roberts was 28 years old at the time of her death. She taught developmentally disabled children. She was engaged to be married to Sergeant Starsky. And she was struck down in the prime of her life because this man," he turned toward Prudholm, "had a vendetta against her fiancé, one of Bay City's finest officers, who has earned several commendations for bravery and devotion to duty, and who almost lost his life last year in the line of duty."

Starsky flinched. He hadn't known Johnson was going to bring that up. Hutch put a hand on his arm but didn't dare do more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have the power to make this man pay for his crime. I have faith in your integrity." Johnson sat down.

"Mr. Olin, your opening statement?"

Olin rose and gave Johnson a look as he approached the jury in his turn. "My client is not guilty," he said to them. "Yes, he pulled the trigger. We do not dispute that fact. But my client suffers from a psychotic disorder for which he has been in residential treatment for the last three years, and in and out of treatment for many years prior to that. He cannot be held responsible for his crime."

After Olin sat down, Greanias told Johnson he could call his first witness.

He began with the clerk from the all-night store, who told about the robbery and how Prudholm and Woody the Magic Man had made a point of shooting Terry, and hadn't even been interested in stealing any money.

Olin objected several times, insisting that the man was relating his perception rather than facts, but the judge allowed the testimony. When Olin cross-examined, he made a point of the fact that Prudholm and Woody had taken what was in the register, though Woody had had to remind Prudholm to do it.

Then Johnson called Captain Dobey to the stand.

"Captain, how long have you been on the force?"

"Almost 30 years," Dobey said.

"You are Sergeant Starsky's superior officer, is that correct?"

"Yes," Dobey said. "I've been his captain for nine years."

"Tell us about the Lonnie Craig incident, please."

"Starsky and Hutchinson and several other officers answered a call on an armed robbery at a small liquor store. There was a lot of shooting and one of the uniformed officers was hit in the shoulder. When the suspects ran, Starsky and Hutchinson gave chase. Starsky fired two warning shots and shouted at Craig to halt, but Craig turned around and brought his gun down to fire. Starsky shot and killed him. Some of the witnesses believed Craig–”

"Objection!" Olin stood. "Was this witness present for this incident?"

"Your honor, there was a public hearing, broadcast on local television, in which all these facts were mentioned," Johnson said.

"I'll allow it," Greanias said. "But I must instruct the jury that the witness is repeating testimony from a prior legal proceeding, not facts he knows of his own knowledge."

"Continue, Captain."

"Some of the witnesses believed Craig was trying to surrender and accused Starsky of overstepping the bounds of reasonable force," Dobey said, with a glance at Starsky. "There was a hearing. The most vocal of these witnesses recanted at the hearing and admitted that he was mistaken, that he now believes Craig was going to shoot Starsky and that Starsky had no other option but to shoot first. I was present for this hearing," Dobey added.

"And then what?"

"During the hearing, George Prudholm called headquarters and threatened that if Starsky was found innocent of wrongdoing, he'd 'make us pay and pay bad,'" Dobey said. "We have recordings of all his calls."

"Did you know who he was then?"

"No," Dobey said. "But soon after the hearing ended, an officer was shot answering a false call, and a rifle was left behind with a note on it that said, 'For Starsky.' Then Prudholm called again and said if Starsky didn't resign, and release that fact to the press, he would kill another officer."

"And Starsky did not resign?"

"No." Dobey said. "I talked him out of it. He wanted to."

"Continue, please."

"The next day, another officer was killed by a bomb planted in a gas station restroom, again answering a false call that a baby had been left there. Prudholm called again and demanded Starsky's resignation again. We figured out who he was from some of the things he said on the phone, and Starsky and Hutchinson went to his apartment to attempt to apprehend him. He called them there and instructed Starsky to meet him at the old city zoo, alone, or he'd kill an officer's family next. Starsky agreed, but Hutchinson followed him there, against Prudholm's instructions, and Prudholm ambushed him. Starsky fired back and hit him in the shoulder, and he and Hutchinson arrested him."

"Prudholm clearly said on these tapes that he was killing officers in retaliation for Starsky shooting Lonnie Craig?"

"Yes."

"Nothing further, your honor."

Olin rose. "Wasn't my client prosecuted for these killings, Captain?"

"Yes, he was."

"And what was his sentence?"

Dobey was clearly angry. "He was sent to Caballo Point Psychiatric Hospital for an undetermined amount of time."

"In other words, the court found him to be incompetent to stand trial?"

"Yes," Dobey snapped.

"Nothing further, your honor."

Next, Johnson called Mrs. Rachman, who talked about how valuable Terry was to the school for exceptional children, how she was personally responsible for Sally's great improvement and how she had started the intramural basketball league that had done so much for the children's social and physical health.

Getty followed and repeated many of the same things. Olin refused to cross-examine either of them, and questioned the purpose of their testimony. Johnson retorted that he was showing that Prudholm could not possibly have known or had any reason to harm Terry.

Then it was time for the home movies of Terry and the kids.

Starsky paled visibly as the projector was brought out.

Hutch unobtrusively slid a hand under his arm and held on tight.

The movies showed Terry teaching, playing with the kids, patiently working over and over to get one small boy to learn to write his name...and some footage of one of the basketball games, which included shots of Starsky and Hutch playing with the children.

Hutch glanced anxiously at Starsky several times and Starsky remained composed, though the pallor of his face was alarming. By the time the basketball game footage was playing, there were tears standing in Starsky's eyes, though he managed not to let any of them fall. Hutch struggled to remain as composed as his partner was. If Starsky could do it, so could he.

The next witness was Dr. Quo.

"You are a neurosurgeon at Memorial Hospital, is that correct?" Johnson asked.

"Yes, it is," she answered.

"And you were Miss Roberts' doctor after she was shot?"

"Yes, I was."

"Please describe her injuries."

With a sympathetic look at Starsky, Dr. Quo said, "She suffered a bullet wound to the upper left quadrant of her brain. The bullet lodged in the frontal lobe in such a way that surgery would have meant certain death. Our only option was to leave the bullet in place, with the risk that if it moved, she would die. Her prognosis for survival was grim at best. If she had remained immobile, she might have survived for several months to a year. By getting up and moving around, she ran the risk of hastening her death. In any case, she couldn't have survived more than a year."

"Did she understand the risk of moving around?"

"Yes, she did. I explained it to her myself. We also sought a second opinion from one of the leading neurosurgeons in the country, a colleague of mine in New York City. He concurred with my opinion, and Terry was aware of his findings."

"How is it that this injury did not immediately kill Miss Roberts? Could that have been deliberate?"

"Objection!" Olin rose.

"I'll strike the second question, your honor," Johnson said. "Please answer only the first question, doctor."

"The bullet turned as it entered her brain," Dr. Quo said. "If it had gone straight in, it would have killed her instantly."

"Dr. Quo," Olin said in his cross-examination, "couldn't we say that Miss Roberts is in some way responsible for her own death? If she had taken your advice to remain immobile she would have lived longer?"

"Objection!" Johnson said. "Miss Roberts did not shoot herself. It was the bullet that killed her, not her own actions."

The judge considered, and Starsky, who had clenched his fists at Olin's question, visibly took himself under control. "I'll allow it," Greanias said at last. "But only if you rephrase the question, counselor."

Olin frowned, but nodded. "If Miss Roberts had taken your advice, would her life have reasonably been longer?"

Dr. Quo shook her head. "The bullet could have moved at any time," she said. "Remaining immobile would not necessarily have changed the ultimate outcome. Simply turning over in bed, or sneezing, could have caused it to move. And the slightest movement would be enough to kill her."

Hutch glanced at Starsky. That settled one question that he knew had eaten at Starsky ever since Terry's death. She had refused to remain in bed because she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. He had, in a way, blamed himself that she hadn't stayed in the hospital. But Dr. Quo seemed quite definite. It wouldn't have mattered that much.

Johnson questioned the doctor on redirect once more before dismissing her. "How did Miss Roberts handle her condition, doctor?"

Dr. Quo smiled very gently. "Terry was a very strong young woman. She never shed a tear while I told her about her condition. And she made me promise to break it gently to David. That was the one thing she said she couldn't do herself."

Starsky swallowed hard.

"How did David react when you told him about Terry's condition?" Johnson asked.

"I had to tell him twice," Dr. Quo said. "He was quite naturally stunned and upset. It was as if he couldn't quite take it in." She glanced at Starsky again. "When it did sink in, he cried."

A tear slid out of Starsky's eye and started to fall, but he brushed it away hurriedly and composed himself again. Johnson also glanced at him. "How long was it after the shooting before her death?"

"About three weeks," Dr. Quo said.

"So for three weeks Miss Roberts, Sergeant Starsky and everyone who knew them had to live with the constant knowledge that she could die at any time?"

Dr. Quo nodded. "That is correct."

"Could you tell us about her death, doctor?"

Starsky reached over and grasped Hutch's hand in an almost-painful grip, but his eyes did not leave Dr. Quo's face and his expression didn't change.

"She lost her sight temporarily," Dr. Quo said. "That was the first sign that the end was near. David brought her to the hospital, and she slipped into unconsciousness for about three hours. At that point, it was quite possible that she would never awaken. She did, however, and her sight came and went after that. The bullet, you see, had moved so that it pressed against the optic nerve."

When she didn't continue, Johnson gently prodded her to go on.

Dr. Quo drew a breath. "She was very weak by then, but also insistent that I allow David to see her. I prepared him as best as I could, and he went into her room. About 20 minutes later, his partner arrived. About five minutes after that, David came out of her room and told us she was dead."

"Do you remember his exact words, doctor?"

She nodded and cast another glance at Starsky. "He said, 'Hutch, she's gone.'"

The judge called for a brief recess then, and the courtroom emptied. Starsky remained where he was until everyone else was gone, and Johnson turned to him.

"You're next, Sergeant."

Starsky nodded.

"You're doing fine so far," Johnson added, his voice softening. "I know this is hard for you. I'm going to have to ask you some painful questions. Are you sure you're up to it?"

He nodded again. "I'll be okay."

He didn't look "okay" to Hutch. As Johnson turned back to the table to go over his notes, Hutch nudged his partner. "Come on, buddy. Let's find you something to drink and stretch our legs a bit."

Starsky rose and followed him, right into a crowd of reporters with cameras and tape recorders, all shouting questions at him. The din was deafening.

But Hutch wrapped his arm around his partner and forced his way through the group, shouting, "No comment!" until he got Starsky past them and into the witnesses' room. Starsky sank into a chair, ashen-faced.

"I forgot about the reporters," he said bleakly.

"Me, too, buddy. I'm sorry. I'm gonna call Dobey and tell him we need some guards down here."

But Starsky shook his head. "No, don't. They're just doin' their jobs, Hutch. It ain't their fault."

Hutch regarded him soberly for a moment and finally nodded. "Okay. What do you want? Coke?"

"I don't know if I'd better drink anything at all."

"You have to, buddy. We've been in there for hours and you've got to testify next. I'll get you 7-Up." Hutch left and found a soda machine down the hall. He came back with a can of 7-Up and handed it to his partner.

Starsky looked at it without enthusiasm but took a couple of small sips. "I hate 7-Up," he said, with just a shadow of a grin.

Hutch smiled back. "Better for you than Coke, buddy. You don't need the caffeine." He picked up Starsky's left arm and looked at his watch. "It's almost time." He reached over to open the door.

"Hutch?"

"Yeah?" Hutch turned, his hand still on the knob.

"Stay where I can see ya, huh?"

Hutch nodded. "You know I will."

The courtroom was filling back up when they went in and took their seats. Johnson leaned over the barrier. "Sergeant, will you be able to maintain your composure?"

"Yes," Starsky said with that grim determination Hutch recognized.

Johnson studied him for a moment and seemed satisfied. "I know it sounds awful, but grave dignity tends to impress a jury more than outright emotion. I need for you to project that if you can."

"I can."

"Sure you're okay, buddy?" Hutch whispered before the judge came back.

Starsky patted his arm. "Yeah. The worst part is over, believe it or not. Dr. Quo, I mean. If I made it through that, I can handle this."

"Your honor, I call Sergeant David Starsky to the stand."

Starsky didn't have to "project" grave dignity. His own determination to maintain his composure, coupled with the strain of the last few days, did that for him. He put his hand on the Bible, took the oath, and sat down.

"Sergeant, I understand that you and your partner have dealt with Mr. Prudholm before."

"Objection! We can't drag my client's entire history out here!" Olin was definitely red around the ears.

"Your client's history, Mr. Olin, is what led to Miss Roberts' death," Greanias said. "Objection overruled. But counselor," he added to Johnson, "only the portions of the defendant's past that directly pertain to this case."

"Yes, your honor." Johnson turned back to Starsky. "When was the first time you and your partner encountered Mr. Prudholm?"

"We arrested his son," Starsky said. "And while Gary – that was his son – was in lockup, waiting for trial, he got stabbed in a prison fight and died. Then, about four years ago, Sergeant Hutchinson and I were involved in a shootout with a couple of armed robbery suspects and I shot and killed one of them, a 16-year-old boy named Lonnie Craig. Prudholm killed two of my fellow officers – men I didn't even know – in retaliation..."

"Objection!" Olin rose again.

"This does have direct pertinence to this case, your honor," Johnson said.

"Overruled."

"Continue, Sergeant."

"Prudholm told me himself that he killed the officers to get back at me for Lonnie's death," Starsky said with absolute calm. Only Hutch knew what that composure was costing him. "And he also told me that his intention was to kill my partner to punish me for Lonnie's death. Lonnie reminded him of Gary. He tried to kill my partner with a rigged shotgun after...he shot Terry."

"What effect did this vendetta have on you, Officer?"

"Objection! Pejorative language!"

"Sustained. Rephrase, Mr. Johnson."

"Certainly, your honor. What effect did these events have on you, Officer?"

"I considered resigning," Starsky said slowly. "My captain and my partner wouldn't hear of it. I felt responsible – even though I wasn't – for the deaths of the other officers. And I was treated like a pariah by many of the other officers in the department, who blamed me for the situation."

"Let the record show," Johnson said, going back to his table for a file, "that Mr. Prudholm was sent to Caballo Point State Psychiatric Hospital for treatment. After 14 months of treatment, he was sent to San Quentin. He escaped due to a clerical error and it is while he was free that Miss Roberts was shot." He slapped the folder down on the table and turned back to Starsky. "Please tell the court about the events leading up to Miss Roberts' death."

This would be the real test of Starsky's composure. Hutch clenched his hands together in his lap and kept his eyes on Starsky.

Starsky wet his lips and his eyes flicked to Hutch momentarily before he answered. "My partner and I work the inner city. There had been a string of liquor store robberies, so clos