Family Secrets I

Title: Family Secrets I
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Category: Starsky Angst, Hutch Angst
Description: My late, late, very late, submission for the ‘Hutch Hurls’ challenge
Notes: The background surrounding the Bonanno crime family & Cesare Bonaventre are as correct as research could determine.


May, 1984

“Hutchinson!”

Hutch sighed. It seemed to be the bane of his career that he and Starsky got called on the carpet by their captain when his partner wasn’t around to take his share of the scolding.

“Hutchinson, now!” Captain Dobey’s holler broke through his reverie.

Pushing himself out of his chair and heading to his superior’s office, Hutch quickly tried to come up with an excuse for disobeying dispatch’s request to stand down from a robbery earlier that day, when they hadn't been on duty and weren’t even the closest cops to the scene. The best defense is an offense, they always say.

“Cap, you know Starsky has a soft spot for Belle ever since she helped save Tom Cole and his wife. So when the call came down with her address, he just couldn’t ignore it.

“Close the door, Hutch. That’s not why I called you in here.” A beat passed as Dobey peered at Hutch’s standing form. “Where’s your partner?”

“He went down to the cafeteria for a snack.” Hutch closed the door and turned back.

“I just got a call from the Orange County coroner’s office. They’ve got a John Doe in their morgue just identified.” Dobey paused and looked down at his desk seemingly in search of a distraction. There was none. “It’s Nick Starsky.”

Stunned, Hutch sat down slowly in one of the chairs opposite his captain.

“It’s my responsibility to inform Dave of his brother’s death, but I wanted you to be aware of it ahead of time so you could… be there for him.”

“Shit.” Hutch glanced up, abruptly aware of his lapse. “Sorry, Captain.”

“It’s okay, Hutch,” Dobey said kindly.

“What do you have?” Hutch’s mind was clearing. What was Nick Starsky doing out here? 10–to-1 Starsky had no idea.

“Looks like a gangland slaying. One shot to the head. Wrists bound. They found him near Laguna Beach yesterday. I’m giving you both a week off. I want you two to give me any cases you’re working on, and anything important I’ll reassign.

What the hell did you get yourself into this time, Nick? Damn you. You’ve caused more than enough pain to your brother and who knows how much to your mother.

“Hutch, I hate to ask this, but…do you know if Starsky had any indication that his brother might’ve been involved with the New York families? Considering his history…” Dobey trailed off at a knock on his door. “Hold on a minute, Hutch. Yeah? Come in.”

The door opened and Starsky popped his head in. “Hey, Cap. Duke said that Hutch…here you are.” He looked at Hutch who had turned in his chair to look back.

Dobey instructed Starsky to come in and close the door. “I need to talk to you.”

With a What’s up now? look at Hutch, Starsky closed the door behind him and stood by his seated partner.

“Sit down.” Dobey directed.

“Something up?”

“I’m afraid so, Dave.”

That one four-letter word was enough for Starsk to tense up. Hutch couldn’t keep the sorrow from his eyes, when Starsky glanced briefly at him.

Looking back and forth between the two men, Starsky asked what was going on.

“Sit down,” Dobey requested again.

“No.” Starsky was sure if it was bad enough, he’d never be able to get up.

“Please, Starsk.” Not only were Hutch’s eyes sorrow-filled, but so was his tone of voice.

Reluctantly, Starsky lowered himself to the edge of the empty seat in front of the desk. “What’s going on?”

There was no easy way to say it, so Dobey cut right to the chase. “I got word this morning from Orange County. Your brother was found shot to death near Laguna Beach.”

“Nicky? Dead?” Starsky was stunned. This was not what he’d expected to hear.

“Dave, did you know Nick was in California or what he might’ve been doing here?”

“No. When?”

Confusion showed as Dobey asked, “When what? When did he get here?”

Starsky’s mouth opened and closed, but the only thing he could say was to repeat, “When?”

Hutch recognized the shock and confusion. Knowing instinctively what his lover meant, he said, “Yesterday, Starsk. They found him yesterday.” He gently laid his hand on Starsky’s forearm, touching his lover to let him know he was not alone and that, as always, Hutch was there and would continue to be by Starsky’s side.

“I’ve gotta go…”

“No, you don’t. They’ve already identified him by his fingerprints.” Starsky’s mind might’ve been numb, but Hutch could still read his partner.

Starsky turned glistening eyes toward Hutch. “For Ma.”

At once Hutch understood; he nodded slowly.

Dobey handed over a sheet of lined paper. “Here is the address for the Orange County Morgue. Eventually the detectives in charge are going to want to talk to you, Dave.”

When Starsky made no attempt to grab the outstretched paper, Hutch took it from Dobey.

“I’m giving you both the week off to make arrangements, sit Shiva,” Dobey repeated to Starsky. “If you need more time to take care of your mother, or anything else, let me know.” Then he turned to Hutch. “Hutchinson, I expect you back here a week from Monday. That’ll give you eight days. More than enough to be there for your partner.”

Getting out of the chair, Starsky looked around the room, lost. “I need to… I gotta…” And without another word, he left via the side exit to the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.

Rising to follow his partner, Hutch was stopped by Dobey’s voice.

“Hutch, I know once he’s over the shock, Dave will want to dive into this case. But I’m telling you now to leave it. Let Laguna Beach handle it. It’s their case. You’re too close.”

Hutch started to voice his objection that they were professionals, but closed his mouth abruptly, knowing that their captain was correct. Starsky did have a habit of diving into cases too quickly and in the heat of the moment if they held a personal cause. Hell, this morning’s actions with the robbery proved that. His own arrest for Van’s murder was another case in point, though Hutch would be forever grateful Starsky hadn't kept his nose out of that one.

Hutch found his partner in the men’s room, hands bracing the top edges of a porcelain sink, staring vacantly into the large mirror in front of him.

He approached Starsky and rubbed his upper arm. “You okay?” he asked softly.

When Starsky didn’t reply, Hutch answered for him. “Dumb question, I know.”

With a deep sigh, Starsky turned away from the mirror and faced Hutch. “Let’s go. Get this done. Ma needs to know…” His voice cracked and he didn’t finish.

“I’ll gather everything to give to Dobey; there isn’t much. Go down to the car. I’m driving; you’re in no condition to handle the Tomato right now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Starsky ran his hand through his hair, jarring Hutch’s hand still on his upper arm.


***


All was quiet in the relatively short drive to Santa Ana, during which Hutch glanced occasionally at his partner in the passenger’s seat. He pulled into the parking lot behind the coroner’s office, and killed the engine.

When Starsky made no attempt to leave the vehicle, Hutch asked, “Do you want me to handle this? I can make the official ID.”

Starsky shook himself. “Huh? Oh, no. I’ll do it.”

“Okay, but I’m going with you.”

A look of gratitude and love flashed in Starsky’s face as he grabbed Hutch’s right hand and squeezed. “Thanks, babe.”

Stopping first at the front desk, they were taken to the morgue by a clerk, who assured them she would handle all paperwork and disposition issues. A hand on his lover’s back, Hutch felt Starsky tensing as they entered the cold storage room.

The morgue was never a pleasant place to visit. The smell and cold seemed to linger, even after leaving the building. But now it Starsky appeared to be impervious to the chill, while the smell seemed to taunt Hutch’s brain, nose, and stomach more than usual.

Surprisingly, when uncovered, Nick Starsky’s face had little damage. The bullet had entered the base of his skull at an upward angle and blown off the top of his head, but the coroner had done a good job of piecing it back together. There was some bruising caused by the excess bleeding, but otherwise he still looked like Nick.

Starsky’s cupped his brother’s cold, pale cheek. “Ah, kiddo, what happened?”

Hutch left his partner alone with his brother while he asked the coroner’s clerk if he could, as a professional courtesy, see the official report. After reviewing it and handing it back with his thanks, Hutch walked back to Starsky and placed a gentling hand on his back.

Looking over his partner’s shoulder, Hutch stared at Nick’s quiet visage. Even though Nick wasn’t the image of his older brother, there was a big enough resemblance that, to Hutch, all of a sudden the room became warm and a bout of nausea overcame him.

He stepped back unsteadily and strode through the doors, looking left and right down the hallway for a men’s room. Spotting one, Hutch bounded through the door before his stomach threatened to embarrass both himself and his partner.

Hutch barely made it through the stall before his stomach rebelled. He stood there for several minutes, shaking arms splayed to the sides of the stall as he steadied himself.


***


After wiping his face, Hutch made his way back to find his partner; who was in an office suite discussing the next step with the clerk who was managing Nick’s autopsy paperwork.

He sat down next to his lover and patted his leg. “You holding up?”

“Yeah.” Starsky acknowledged Hutch’s concern, placing his hand over his lover’s. “Where’d you run off to?”

“Men’s room. You sure you’re okay?”

Starsky bent over, hands covering his face, “I’m gonna have to call my mom. Shit. Can’t believe…”

“You want me to handle it?”

“No, I gotta… maybe Uncle Es or Aunt Rebecca… You’re coming, right?”

“To New York?” Hutch asked. “Yes. Dobey gave us both a week off,” he gently reminded.

The rest of the day – hell, the entire day – was nothing but a blur to Starsky. Everything had faded into gray. Thank God for Hutch.

His partner had taken things in hand: made arrangements for Nick’s body, handled travel arrangements to New York, spoke with Starsky’s Uncle Es so that Muriel Starsky was told as gently as possible, packed their luggage, and forced him to eat a grilled cheese sandwich.

Not once did Hutch question him if he knew what – if anything – Nick had been involved in. Hell, he hadn't even known Nick was in town. I’ll bet Ma didn’t know either. When we talked last week, she would’ve asked me to check on him.

Once the body was released by the authorities, health codes trumped Jewish ritual and made embalming mandatory before transport. It was Starsky family tradition, though, that chose Nick’s final destination: the Jewish Memorial Chapel in Yonkers

Starsky’s faculties slowly came back as he sat in a chair in their bedroom and watched Hutch packing their bags. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I haven’t been much help and you’ve done all this for me and Nick. It’s my responsibility, I should be handling everything.”

Hutch’s eyes reflected like pools of clear water. “I want to. I need to.” He stepped over and smoothed his hand against Starsky's cheek. “I love you, you know. And I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

Sighing and closing his eyes, Starsky drank in the comforting presence of his partner. The previous need to place everything on the well-balanced shoulders of his lover was slowly fading; the need to take some control back, gaining ground.

“What else did Dobey say? About what Laguna PD discovered so far?”

“Not much else.” Hutch paused, “You know, Starsk, that even if this case were in our jurisdiction, we wouldn’t be given it. Dobey advised…”

“Yeah, yeah. Like we haven’t heard it before. Terry, Helen, Gillian, Van. Hell, you shouldn’t have even been on the Gunther case.”

“Okay, he warned us to leave it alone.”

“Well, since we’re heading back to New York, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to some of the neighborhood,” Starsky emphasized the word ‘talk’, “to try and find out what’s been going on with Nick. Dobey can’t bar us from doin’ that.” Try and stop me.

“Stubbornness has nothing on you,” Hutch grumbled as he turned away to finish packing.

Starsky let it go with a tight smile. Instead he walked over to where Hutch stood by the bed zipping up their cases, and put a hand on Hutch’s shoulders. “Thanks, Hutch.”

Not much in the way of spoken words, but a wealth in meaning and expression. Hutch reached across with his right hand and patted Starsky’s. ‘Thank you’ accepted and acknowledged as unnecessary.

Starsky’s emotional upset left him with no desire, physically or emotionally, for making love. Even the knowledge that they’d be hard pressed to make love for the next week while staying with Starsky’s mother – both men refused to indulge themselves in Muriel’s home – couldn’t interest Starsky in sex.

Again, Hutch acknowledged the unspoken apology in his lover’s eyes with a gentle, soothing touch to his face. “Long trip tomorrow. Get some sleep; you’ll need it.”


***


Due to the time difference and a layover in Denver, the two men didn’t arrive at JFK until after 7p.m. The first stop Starsky wanted to make was to the 66th District Police Station, which was located in the area of Brooklyn where his brother lived with their mother; in the same apartment that both Starsky brothers had grown up in.

But Hutch stopped him from charging off by reminding him that living family was more important right now. And Hutch was right – he needed to see his mother first; and, more importantly, Muriel needed him.

So Starsky counseled himself to not let his anger show. Whether that anger was directed to his brother’s killers, or to his brother directly, Starsky didn’t know. Hutch tried to distract him by asking about various point of interest, even though he had been back to visit Starsky’s hometown several times.

After the cab dropped them off in front of the brownstone where Pavlo Starsky had settled his family, Starsky stood silent for a moment to gather his thoughts and the courage he would need to face his mother.

The walk up to his mother’s apartment was made in quiet, each involved in their own thoughts. To the amazement of both men, they heard the sounds of merrymaking and chatter coming from behind the closed door of the Starsky family apartment.

Starsky’s mother was holding up better than he expected. Mother and son enveloped each other with comfort and love. And then both of them – he and Hutch, were passed along to all the other family members that were sitting Shiva with Muriel Starsky.

Muriel introduced Hutch to all the Starsky and Yvanik family and friends as “Davey’s goy kolego.” One of Starsky’s cousins, Tuvok, asked with mistrust if Hutch traveled everywhere to hold Davey’s hand.

“His cop-partner,” explained Muriel. She knew the true relationship of the two men, but it was nobody else’s business – especially not her judgmental male kin. She had just lost one son to the street wars, she was not about to lose another.

Many of his family wanted to know if Starsky was going to find out what happened to Nick. He had to tell them that he and Hutch had limitations and any interference could taint the evidence and jeopardize the investigation. But he assured them he would keep on top of the investigating unit.

Of course, Starsky planned on doing his own investigation while in New York, but he didn’t need to play his hand yet when he wasn’t sure who was in the game.

After everyone had left, Muriel’s mask came down when she asked Starsky how Nick was prepared for his burial. “Did you do the Taharah?”

“It wasn’t possible, Ma.” Starsky shook his head slowly. He hadn’t been in any kind of shape to participate in the ritual cleansing of his brother's body.

Muriel responded with a sad nod.

By 10 p.m., even though their bodies were still on Pacific Time, everything else combined to make them - Starsky especially – tired. Once in bed, trying to become accustomed to all the night noises of Brooklyn, Hutch asked Starsky about his family.

“I know you’ve always said you had a bunch of uncles, but I assumed that most were friends of the family or neighborhood guys who looked out for you.”

Starsky’s right arm was pillowed behind his head as he stared at the shadowed ceiling of the childhood bedroom he’d shared with Nick. “Let’s see. Aunt Rose is Ma’s sister. Uncles Alphonse and Myron were her brothers, but they’re gone now. Her only living brother, my Uncle George is in Florida. He’s married to Aunt Betty, who Ma never got along with.”

“On my dad’s side, you met all his brothers today: Aron, Saul, and Es. Dad was the second youngest, before Esau. He had a sister, but she died when they were little. Her name was Lina.”

“I never realized how big your family is.”

Starsky shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I never talk to any of them except Al and Rose and Uncle Es and Aunt Rebecca occasionally. I haven’t seen most of ‘em since my Dad’s funeral.”

“Do you think any of them could be involved with the mob?” Hutch hated to ask, but they needed to know.

Starsky knew that, no matter what it wouldn’t change how Hutch felt about him. “I don’t know. I haven’t been around for the last 20 years. Nick got messed up with them somehow.” He turned to face his lover. “If I have to take down some of my family, Hutch, I will. That’s the only way the contamination’ll stop spreading.”

“I’m sorry, babe. Now wasn’t the time to bring it up.” His voice was heavy with apology.

“Shit, Hutch, it ain’t like I haven’t been thinking the same thing.”

With a light kiss, Hutch told Starsky to try to let it go for the night and get some sleep; then did the same himself.


***


The morning after Nick’s burial beside his father at Knollwood Park, all three slept in late, Muriel’s slumber enhanced by a prescribed medication.

When Starsky finally got up, after he dressed he made coffee and settled at the kitchen table to read the paper he’d retrieved from outside the door.

Right on the front page of the New York Daily News was an article that froze Starsky as he held his coffee mug up.

‘Alleged Missing Bonanno Leader Found Dismembered.’

The article went on to detail how Cesare Bonaventre had been found murdered with four bullet wounds – two to the head – and then dismembered and dumped in a large drum. Details of his alleged role as a ‘capo’ of the Bonanno family and the suspicion that he had been behind the murder of former Bonanno ‘capo’ and renegade Carmine Galente – the man who had sponsored Cesare Bonaventre’s entry to the U.S. from Sicily.

Damn, why does that name sound familiar? Having been out of touch with New York crime and neighborhood news, Starsky didn’t think he’d heard the name of a minor Mafia head through the BCPD or his mother. Nick? Joe?

So lost in thought, Starsky never heard his partner approach behind him until Hutch placed his large hand over Starsky’s to still the repetitive drumming of the latter’s fingers.

“What’s so engrossing in the paper that you ignore a kiss on your neck from your lover? Bored with me?” Hutch joked.

Starsky hadn’t realized that Hutch had given him a soft, intimate kiss. He turned his hand over to grasp his lover’s. “I think… Nicky mentioned someone named Cesare in one of our phone conversations, but I’m not sure who he meant.” He slipped his hand free and pointed at the article he’d been reading.

“Nick mentioned something about a new business partner name Cesare who was Dutch, but grew up in Italy. They were gonna set up some kind of multi-cultural consulting firm; something like that.” Starsky was frustrated, trying to remember. “I think that’s all he ever said.”

“Starsk, Cesare is a common Italian name. Doesn’t mean that it’s this guy in the paper.”

“Yeah, there’s gotta be five on this block alone. I get it. But it’s awful coincidental.”

Hutch hated to burst Starsky’s bubble, but neither did he want Starsky wasting his time and energy on a dead-end – especially if that line of investigation led to the Mafia, then it literally could be a dead-end.

Running his hand through his morning-hair, Starsky wondered aloud if his mother might know anything.

Alarmed, Hutch put out his arm to stop Starsky. “No. Do you hear me? Your mother has been through enough. It’s bad enough you want to put yourself on the hot seat, but I’m not going to let you draw attention to Muriel. In fact, just to be on the safe side, we should get her out of town – vacation, safety – whatever you want to call it.”

“Okay, okay. I hear ya. Besides which, like you said, we don’t know if this is even the same guy.”

Glad that Starsky appeared more rational, Hutch relaxed. “Here’s what we do: check out Nick’s room, see what we find. Let’s look at the condolence book. We’ll see if anyone named Cesare signed it. Any current or prospective business partner of Nick’s should be in there too.”

“I still should ask her.” Starsky said.

“Ask me what?” Neither man had heard Muriel’s door open or her entrance into the small, bright kitchen.”

“Uh, nothing for you to worry about, Ma.” Starsky stole a quick glance to his partner.

“Coffee, Muriel?” Hutch held up an empty mug as a distraction.

“Yes, please. Cream.” She turned her focus back to her surviving son. “Now, stop with farhaltn, David, and ask me. I’m not some weepy nebbish . I’ve buried a husband; I’ve just buried a son. If I can survive that and more, your question won’t harm me. It’s all bubkis . Nicky was my baby, but that didn’t make me blind to his actions or the hoodlums he hung around with.” Her grimace was sorrowful, but also angry.

Sighing, Starsky asked if Nick had ever mentioned a guy named Cesare who he did, or was going into, business with.

Her reaction stunned both Starsky and Hutch. Muriel spit on her silver flecked white linoleum floor. “Pfui. That schmutz. He’s no good. I told Nicky to stay away from him. I don’t want him here. He may look goy, but he’s momzer.”

Both detectives glanced at each other, knowing instinctively what the other was thinking – that Starsky’s intuition was correct and he was on the right track.

Starsky sprung out of his seat, giving a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Thanks, Ma. Hutch and I are going to check some things out.”

As they left the kitchen to change, Muriel yelled after them, “What about breakfast?”

They popped back in. “Oh, sorry, Ma. What do you want? I already made some coffee.”

“No, no, my bubchick, for you and Ken.”

“Don’t worry about us, Muriel,” Hutch cut in and leaned over and gently kissed her cheek. “And don’t worry about David. I’ll watch out for him.”

“I know you will.” Even after the Gunther hit, Muriel trusted Hutch. She never held any of her son’s injuries against the blond detective, but she often chided David for not looking after Ken, when the latter received injuries. “You always have my David’s best interests at heart.”


***


After a brief stop at the precinct where Starsky’s father used to patrol out of, Starsky and Hutch began making the rounds of old friends and neighbors.

Initially Starsky just made small talk as Hutch stood listening to shared memories; but eventually the former worked his way into questioning who the local hoods were and the possibility of Nick being involved with them. Starsky was such a skilled interrogator that most of them didn’t realize they were being purposefully milked for information they might have.

But Starsky didn’t get away with his questioning as much as he thought he did.

Three days after Nick’s burial, Starsky received a visitor. When Muriel let the man – obviously known to her – into the apartment, Hutch had just come in from Nick’s bedroom where Starsky was packing his brother’s possessions. He could barely contain his shock when he saw the older, heavyset man with thinning gray hair.

The older man chuckled, “No, detective, I’m not a ghost. Nor did anyone play a joke on you and Davey. We’re twins. Not quite identical, but enough that those who don’t know us personally couldn’t tell the difference.”

It was like looking seven years in the past – and the image of Joe Durniak before him gave Hutch pause.

He didn’t believe they had anything to fear from Joe’s brother, but a tingle went off in Hutch similar to the one he’d had when the detectives had Joe in their protective custody, and he’d made allusions to Starsky’s father’s past.

“Ken, this is Luca Durniak.” Muriel introduced the men. “This is Davey’s partner from L.A., Ken Hutchinson.”

“Actually it’s Lukas, but if you want to be safe or Family in Brooklyn, you need to have either an Italian or Jewish name.” He looked at Hutch to judge his reaction as he pointedly added. “As Cesare found out.”

Since you’re not Jewish, and considering your brother’s past, I guess we can assume you’re part of ‘the family’ without jumping to conclusions, Hutch thought to himself.

Both men stood facing each other, sussing the other out, until Muriel asked Luca if she could take his coat.

Hutch noticed she wasn’t afraid or intimidated by the Mafia man – which made him curious why she didn’t hold him in the same contempt as Cesare Bonaventure. She had to know his involvement with the New York mob.

“So, where is Davey?” Luca looked around as he rubbed his hands together and sat down, without being invited, on Muriel’s couch.

“Hey, Starsk?” Hutch called to his partner, not leaving Muriel alone with the man. “You wanna come out here? There’s someone here to see you.”

His posture loose when he walked out of Nick’s room, Starsky stiffened when he saw their visitor, but Hutch noticed he didn’t appear in any way shocked. What else have you kept from me, Starsk?

“Lukas,” Starsky said cautiously as he nodded once to acknowledge the man.

“Can I get you some coffee, Luca?”

“Muriel, my dear. I would love a cup, black. And then perhaps I can talk with David and Ken for a bit.” He hesitated, “Privately. You understand.”

“Of course. I’ll just step out to Rosatti’s for some more coffee and tea. People have been stopping by all week for Shiva and visits; I’m running low.”

Until Muriel left, and Luca had his requested privacy, he made small talk with Starsky and Hutch. Asking about the California weather, and how they liked their jobs, and the general differences between LA and New York living.

Waiting a few minutes until he was sure his mother was out of the brownstone, Starsky’s voice changed to granite and ice as he asked, “No bullshit, Lukas. What do you want? You told Ma that you didn’t hold us responsible for Joe’s death. What other reason could have for coming by to see us?”

The older man refused to be intimidated. He leaned back, resting his arm across the top of the couch as he studied his long-ago friend’s son. “Your father and Joe and I were best of friends growing up – did he ever tell you that?”

Starsky’s confidence was equal to Luca’s. “Yeah, Joe filled me in with all the details after Pops died. You aren’t here to re-hash old memories, so can it and get to the point.”

“You’re too intense, Davey. You need to slow down and relax.” Luca turned to Hutch and asked, “Is he always like this? He’s gonna give himself a heart-attack before he’s fifty.”

It must’ve been a rhetorical question, because Luca didn’t wait for an answer. “You know, David, you should be more careful who you visit.”

“Starsky has ever right to visit whoever he wishes!” Hutch was beginning to get riled.

“Yes,” Lucas nodded slowly, “but some people, some very important people, aren’t too happy with some of the questions he’s been asking.”

Then Luca abruptly changed the line of discussion. “You know, with the exception of myself, Cesare, Nicky and a few other guys, the Family rarely invite non-Italians into their fold.”

The admission that Nick was involved in mob-related activities did not go unnoticed, but for now Starsky and Hutch let it go.

“Which is why Joe went off on his own,” Starsky finished.

“As long as he respected their territory and played the game by their rules, the Five Families left him alone,” Joe finished.

“Until he decided to talk,” Hutch added, calmer now. “And Cesare?”

“Who said anything about Cesare?” Luca smirked.

Hutch addressed his partner, “Let’s make this assumption, Starsk. If Cesare was trying to break out on his own…”

“And for an Italian-raised Dutchman, that would’ve been very stupid…” Starsky interjected.

“Or if he started making decision on his own within the confines of the Family…”

“Then they’d need to eliminate him before his brand of independence started giving others ideas,” Hutch finished.

Starsky turned to Luca. “So how did Nick place into this?”

Luca raised his arms as if surrendering, “I never confirmed that your theories are correct, gentlemen. For all I know, Cesare was a robbery victim and Nick was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Both detectives picked out the message in Luca’s statement: Cesare was robbing someone and was hit in retaliation.

“Or Nick was in the right place at the right time,” suggested Starsky. “A planned hit; he was lured to his death.”

With a tilt of his head to the side in acknowledgement, Luca gave them their answer without having to say anything. “But I will tell you this… leave it, David.”

His stern request and hardened hazel eyes took Starsky aback. “Why? This was my brother we’re talking about. Doesn’t my mother deserve justice?”

Repeating himself for emphasis, Luca said, “I’m telling you to drop it, David. Trust me; there’s more than Nick’s actions at stake here. Your mother does not deserve more pain and suffering. I would not like for her to have to bury all her children. She is, and always has been, a very special person.”

Hutch stood up and pointed at his partner. “Are you trying to say that ‘they’ will go after Starsky?”

Ignoring Hutch’s question, Luca asked Starsky another question. “Did Joe ever tell you anything about your father’s death?”

Starsky frowned at the sudden turn. “Pops was killed by a bank robber. Though Joe did mention something about secrets and that I wouldn’t be happy with some of the things he was going to tell the Feds.”

Luca nodded in reassurance. “Good.” He paused and looked between the two men, Hutch still standing, and Starsky sitting across from him. “That was the reason I was sent here today, by the way. To find out what, if anything, Joe may have told you about your father’s death, or if you’d heard any rumors.”

“That sounds like a warning to me.” Hutch could give Luca a run for his money in steely-eyed glares.

Waving his hands, as if it was no consequence, Luca dismissed Hutch’s concerns. “Consider it a message of generosity from one Family to another.”

Starsky was flabbergasted. “Wait a minute, wait a minute… Are you trying to tell me that my dad wasn’t killed during a robbery?”

This news on top of Nick’s Mafia involvement and death looked like it could fold Starsky in half. Hutch hastened over to the chair where his lover was seated, just in case.

“No. He was killed by a bank robber, that part was true. But it’s more complicated than that.” Luca looked intently at both men as he added furtively, “And that’s all I can give you.”

Hutch was becoming hot again. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means to drop it… all of it.” Luca finally became brusque. “The problems of Cesare and Nick have been taken care of to the satisfaction of the Five Families. Any more exploration of Nick’s death will lead you into areas that you not only don’t want to go to, but that you may not come out of.” He softened his voice and expression. “And your mother doesn’t deserve any wounds being re-opened.”

Luca stood up and straightened his jacket. “You’re a good son, David. You go on back to California and continue the direction you’ve been going. You’re momma is proud of you. Perhaps you can encourage her to move out there, get away from all the bad memories.”

Luca walked to the door, but as he opened it, he turned back. “I’m sorry I had to visit under these circumstances. As a long-time friend of the family and keeper of promises made to your father, I’m officially offering my condolences on the loss of your brother.” He tipped his head solemnly. “I won’t be seeing you again before you leave, Davey. Continued good luck in California.” And he walked out the door, closing it tightly behind him.

Neither Starsky nor Hutch could say anything for a few moments. They walked into the kitchen and over to the coffee pot silently, before sitting down at the table.

“What do you think of that, Hutch?”

Hutch shook his head. “I don’t know, Starsk. What I do know is that he’s right about the continued digging. If you keep it up, you could be hurt – or worse. After Gunther, I don’t think either I or your mother could handle that.”

“So that’s it?” Starsky waved his arm toward the closed front door. “We just leave and let them get away with this shit?”

“No. We leave it to the local PD and in the Laguna Beach.” Hutch held up a hand before Starsky interrupted him. “Okay, technically we are the best team out there, and if anyone can figure out what your brother was into and who killed him, it’s us.”

“However, I happen to agree with Lukas to some extent.” Hutch stood up and began pacing. “I don’t like the idea of just giving up, but it might be better if we go back home, let things settle down here, and then do some checking around LA and Orange County.”

“And what about my mom, Hutch?” Starsky was worried. “If the big guys here find out we’ve been doing some digging – they might make take it out on her.”

Hutch was worried about Muriel too, and he had a solution. “She comes back with us for a long visit. We use the excuse that she needs to get away – which is probably true.”

“And if she says no?” Neither his mother nor Hutch’s parents had ever stayed with them in their home since they’d told their families they were partners in life as well as on the job.

Hutch gave his lover a tender, empathetic look. “She can stay with Al and Rose. They’d love to have her visit.”

“Yeah, they’d like that.” He looked up hopefully at Hutch. “Maybe I can convince her to move out there permanently. All the family here is getting older; she needs me more now.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Starsk. But let’s get her out to California for a visit first and then discuss it. No need to make abrupt changes right now. She’s going through enough.”

Starsky walked over and smoothed Hutch’s cheek with his forefinger. “You know, I think I love you more right now than I ever have.”

Blushing with embarrassment, Hutch dipped his head.

“The care you take with me, but more important, the respect and care you show Ma.” He leaned and gave Hutch a quick kiss on the lips. Nothing passionate or sexual, but filled with love. Sometimes Hutch liked those quick, gentle kisses more than their passionate mouth dances.

Then Starsky stepped back. “Okay, then we’ve got some things to take care of, so I guess we better hit it, Blondie. We’ll take Ma out to dinner tonight. Treat her real special.”

They had a lot to do, and only a few days to do it. But with a rejuvenated purpose, Starsky and Hutch set out to convince Muriel Starsky that she belonged with them in California. It gave Starsky a reason to push his brother’s murder on the back-burner, and not feel guilty.

Time would come later for him to find out what happened to Nick… and to his father.

To be continued?

Goy kolego: Gentile Buddy/Acquaintance
Nebbish: Weakling, simpleton
Bubkis: Nothing
Farhaltn: Delay
Schmutz: A detestable person
Momzer: An untrustworthy person

Amye's MS travails

Okay, so far here's the fun of tests and drugs:

In Feb '08 I went to the doctor with concerns about these sharp, stabbing pains in my head (temple & sometimes back of head) that would numb half my face for 1-2 min. Ed had been diagnosed with a minor aneurysm, so I was thinking the same thing - or at worst a minor stroke.

Anyway, Dr. Lees scheduled me for some strength and balance tests. The diagnosis was less strength on the right side, and that everything was slower & slightly off on my right side (smiling, hopping, waving, etc etc).

She scheduled an MRA/MRI. After these were read, she called me on 2/19/08 to tell me I had demylineation and lesions of the white matter. What? I was confused, but she didn't seem too concerned. She wanted to set me up on Neurontin to see how that would work.

Later I found out that demylineation & lesions in the brain are high indicators of MS. That totally floored me. Completely. After reading up on it, I realized that it's a high probability.

The stumbling, tongue tied syndrome, forgetfullness, walking into walls & furniture, the sharp pains & facial numbness - all are some of the symptoms of MS. Now I wonder if my foot numbness is related to damage to the sciatic nerve or MS.

Anyway, the Neurontin works very well. The pains have subsided for the most part, or lessened.

Since the move, I hadn't had it for more than six months, so I finally found a doctor and went over everything with him. He definitely put me back on the Neurontin and then scheduled me with a Neurologist in Hoffman Estates. He also feels that it's MS, however he can't make that diagnosis, only the neuro can. More than likely they will want to do an updated MRI/MRA and possibly CAT. Also an LP (lumbar puncture) would be required to do a definitive diagnosis.

Fuck that - I'm not having an LP. If the Neurontin works fine, then that's good enough for me.

I'll keep this blog updated.

A YEAR?!

My God, it's been a year?! since I've posted?

I'm sorry, this is supposed to be my diary/writing blog.

Lots have happened. We tossed Luis & Marilynne, they messed up the house to the tune of $3,300 (including lost rent). They stole stuff, damaged windows & trim, ruined carpeting. So now we're renting to Julie & Bill. They can help fix it up and they have a smaller place to rent with less money to pay. They wanted back in the neighborhood anyway.

Since they moved in, we're going to fight the stupid HUD/Civil Rights since we will never rent the house again to someone we don't personally know. I'd rather lose it to foreclosure.

What else.....

Hmmm Kelly thought she was pregnant earlier this month. Thank God she's not. I'm not ready for that yet. Andrew starts college on Tuesday. Keith got divorced and is now living with a really cute Brazilian girl he met, who's 15 yrs younger. Personally I think not only did he get tired of Karen's drinking, but he wants kids and it seems there's been a problem there. I don't see Karen much (I hate bars), but Ron sees her a couple times a month. Ed just got back from a state-of-the-art high-end cruise to Alaska for 3 weeks. Cost him $8,000. Ron's jealous, he thinks we deserve some of that money since we took care of Grandma while he was in the hospital for 6 months. Oh, Ryan moved to Chicago and then back to Ohio.

I have a great new job! I'm the Executive Assistant for the VP of Consumer & Computer Business Unit at ST Microelectronics, a worldwide company with headquarters in France. So far it's temp-to-hire, but it's my understanding that they hire all their assistants like that. It can take anywhere from 6 mos to 2 yrs for them to hire you permanently. I'm hoping this works out, because it's my dream job. Tony's great, there's travel, setting up events, and lots of Excel work.

More later about the fun tests I'm going through!

The Move is Done!

We finally got everything up and running and we're all moved in!

Okay, so the entertainment center isn't together and I can't put all my angels or Royal Daulton's in yet, but pretty much everything else is done. All my Starsky & Hutch items are hanging in the spare room where the computer is. Kelly's bed isn't put together, but there's no big hurry on that.

The yard - the front especially - is a POS, but our landlord said if we want to do anything to it and make it nice, just show him the receipts and he'll take it off our rent. We've gotta do some touching up of paint that got scraped and a little bit of patch work, but all in all it's very nice and has a large walk-in closet in our room that's carpeted - even the shelves are carpeted. I'm not real fond of the color (tan carpeting), but I can live with it. The shelves, drawers, and washer/dryer were disgustingly dirty. So I had to clean first. I ended up using contact paper 'cause there was no way I wanted my dishes touching those naked shelves.

Got the OHIO STATE flag hanging in the front bay window. Gotta promote my team, right? Oh, and one of our new neighbors is a big Ohio State Fan. I told him we're going to get along perfectly.

We got the wrong sized truck for the move, but it was larger and it turned out we needed the larger one. The drive went well and even faster than I figured. That's 'cause we didn't got through downtown Chicago. Of course my brother didn't get anyone to help us unload, as both Ron & I asked, but they did come over themselves to help us unload, so it wasn't just the five of us.

On Monday I called all the utilities and the phone company, right? "Yes, you can get DSL. Yes, we can keep you with Elite. They'll be out on Friday." Well Friday comes, and we had no phone line, so one guy comes out to install a phone line, but no one comes to install the DSL. I called them again. "We can't find your order. Oh wait, here it is.... They're coming Friday, August 8th!" I told them that was b*s. So the guy on the phone promises they'll be here by Monday. Monday comes & starts to wane. I called AT&T again. "No you CAN'T get DSL in your area." Now this is bullshit! I specifically had them install a phone line which cost me $140. I got a $50 coupon for DSL Elite (which is what we had in Cleveland). And TWICE I talked to AT&T representatives about DSL in our new home. This is the same bullcrap we put up with when we moved at work last summer. So they've offered my this new U-Verse which is some kind of cable system and supposedly much faster than DSL, but at the same price. Plus they said they'd honor the $50 coupon and give me a $35 credit. They damn well better.

Then last Tuesday after we moved, the damn air went out (the furnace died and it was brand new). We had no air for several days until the heating & air company could get a new panel and replace it. What a fricking mess! We were so hot, we ended up spending Wednesday night at Keith's hotel.

Now I can seriously start to look for a job. I hate that I've put in several resumes and gotten only one response. I hope this doesn't take long. Everyone says the job market here is great and I shouldn't have a problem finding a job. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Daisy's adapting well, but she still doesn't know what to do with the backyard. She keeps going to the bathroom by the door & the patio door. She won't go into the backyard unless it's following the fence. It's like she's afraid of it. I fear she's going to have separation anxiety when I go back to work.

I don't know if I'll ever move again. At least out of state. Unless it's going back home.

Notes About David & His Jonathan

Title: David and His Jonathan
Author: Hutchlover
Rating: R
Genre: Slash
Email: Hutchlover@sbcglobal.net
Categories: Committed Relationship, Starsky Angst, Hutch Angst
Description: Starsky dreams about another man, which affects his job performance and his relationship with Hutch.

Notes: In most upper class households of Greek, Roman, and other pre-Christian Mediterranean societies it was common to take a young man as a lover. For the young man, it was viewed as an honor to have an older, wealthier, and more world-wise man for a lover. Most upper class marriages were contracted for procreation or political advantage; while love, sexual pleasure, and in some cases creating a life together, were reserved for same sex companions/lovers.

The question of whether David and Jonathan were lovers will always be debated, with no definitive answers. However, based on verses in the Torah and the Bible, the symbolism can be interpreted to indicate a loving, sexual relationship between the two. God said “do not as the Greeks”, however, some scholars aren’t sure if God meant their multi-theistic society or their lifestyles, or both. The reader can make of it what they will…

The characters of David and Jonathan, and the basis of their story is historically correct as per 1Samuel. However, I took a few liberties with some dialog. This story is NOT meant to offend or to pretend that I am a scholar on Jewish/Christian/Greek religions. It is only a story for entertainment purposes and should not be taken literally. I love to be educated and would encourage any discussion about the meaning behind the scriptures, however, please no posts claiming I’ve corrupted or misinterpreted their religious beliefs. The Holy Bible reads different ways for everyone.

I owe tremendous thanks to Molo, Range, and Flamingo for their editing and pointers. And as always my biggest supporter was Mystic Whim who pushed and shoved me to get this story out.

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 1

As he stepped into the throne room, David – youngest son of the shepherd Jesse – stood in awe at how the stone and mud blocks fit perfectly together. In contrast to his humble abode, this grand edifice was a richly decorated structure. With camel hair thrushes, sheep’s wool blankets, colorful pillows lining the floor, and woolen blankets dyed in various blues and gold, the room was considerably warmer than his father’s great room. Dozens of people danced and partook of an abundance of foods and drink as they celebrated the defeat of the Philistine army at the hands of the Israelites. For a common sheep herder, it was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and David felt his eyes rounding in awe at each step forward. His father would say it was glut and greed; shameful displays of the flesh and the weakness in man. But for a young man of David’s impressionable age, the sights and smells were intoxicating.

At Saul’s behest, David approached the well-built middle-aged man on the raised dais at the end of the room. As he came near the gold-lined throne, the king’s subjects fell quieter, unnerving the young warrior. It seemed that everyone was interested in the young man who defeated the Philistine's greatest warrior. At the powerful man’s request, David stood before his king, tall and with pride as Saul made the proclamation that “he is as mine own”. He glanced around to see if he would be scolded for the shamefulness of pride that he’d always been taught it was. But he saw no censure amongst the king’s subjects.

A tall, dark-haired young man, several years older than David, appeared at King Saul’s side. David drew in a sharp breath, so taken was he by the Prince’s beauty and the grace he commanded as he glided to the side of the throne. This must be one of King Saul’s sons, David thought. With such beauty, grace, and presence, he could be nothing less.

The powerful King of the Israelites addressed his youngest son, his deep voice resonating off the stone walls. “Mine own Jonathan, take David to thy quarters. Giveth all that he require. Command thy servants to him as you would to thee.”

Bowing low as a sign of respect to his king’s son, David was surprised to find a large warm hand fit into his own and raise him up as an equal. “Thou art equal and bless-ed by the Lord.” The rich tenor voice struck David’s soul, and he followed the Prince to his quarters, almost hypnotized.

Once the tapestry had dropped over the doorway, leaving the two alone in Prince Jonathan’s private quarters, David found his voice. “Thou art beauteous.” Startled at his own presumptuousness of speaking without being addressed, David lowered his eyes and hoped that the compassion he’d glimpsed in the other man’s eyes was not the reflection of candlelight.

He was reassured when Prince Jonathan put a hand under his chin and raised his head to meet the other’s eyes. More than reassured when Prince Jonathan told David that he was in awe of David’s greatness – both physically and spiritually; and honored to become a brother of one so respected by God and king.

David shook his head in denial, he was not worthy to be a friend of this important man in king’s household, much less his equal. How had it all come to this, that a young man with no prospects – a lowly sheepherder, and a youngest of many sons – was now on a par with a king’s son?


In the early morning hours of a gray, Bay City dawn, Hutch shook his lover’s shoulder, calling to him and trying to wake him from an apparent dream. “Starsky!”

“Thou hath honored me, thy Prince.” It was obvious that Starsky was dreaming as his voice was husky with sleep and his speech included words that sounded unlike any in the English language.

“Starsky! Wake up!” Hutch jostled his shoulder harder.

A dark, tousled head appeared from underneath the layers of bedclothes. “Huh? Hutch? What’s wrong?” Starsky squinted his eyes as they adjusted to a wakeful state.

What’s wrong? Nothing. Just that you were mumbling weirdly. What were you dreaming about?”

Starsky opened his sluggish and confused eyes all the way as his mind woke up to find his blond lover bowed over him. The feeling of being overwhelmed by… what, he didn’t know, stayed with him even after he woke. “Hutch. What the hell time’s it?”

Squinting past Starsky’s body, Hutch looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Uh, 5:30.”

“Geez, Hutch. You woke me that early to interpret a dream?!” Starsky threw the covers back over his head, hiding from his lover and his dreams.

“Well, since I’m up, I might as well get my run in.” Hutch turned down the bedcovers over him in a smooth motion, pulling them down from Starsky’s torso at the same time.

As Hutch started to get up, Starsky pushed him out of the bed lightly with the rest of the way with his muscular legs. “You do that an’ lemme sleep s’ummor…” he trailed off drowsily

While Hutch took his morning jog and then stopped to pick up breakfast for the two, Starsky dreamed again. Dreaming of a mysterious dark haired man, sand, warmth, and the past; the images disappearing in wisps of memory as he slowly awoke to begin his day.

The dreams were forgotten by both men by the time the two arrived at the precinct to begin their day. The next few days consisted of busy work hours chasing down crazed gunmen and incompetent criminals, so much so that neither man was up for any romantic festivities, and spent nights at their respective apartments.

While sleeping alone Starsky didn’t have any confusing and powerful dreams; however, once he returned to Hutch’s arms…


~*~


And David went with Jonathan and behaved himself wisely; and he was accepted in the sight of all the people and also in the sight of the Lord. His brothers were jealous, but he shared gladly of his good fortune. He was kind, but firm to the servants; gentle with animals; open and friendly with all those in the community; he held his counsel around King Saul and his advisors, only giving responses when addressed or questioned. His advice to the household and the military persons were sound and intelligent.

Jonathan became his confidant, his adviser, his best friend, and yes, his lover. He told David he was proud of the way he handled himself, for one so young and unused to the trappings of royalty. Within months, David’s popularity had surpassed that of the King. It worried David inwardly, but he kept his deference to God and King Saul and his sons, making him even more beloved of the people.

To gain the support of the young warrior, and to keep him close to hearth, King Saul gave his daughter Michal to David to wife. Michal loved David, but David loved Jonathan above all others. Honored by Saul’s gift, David felt the happiest he had ever in his life. Now, rather than being the youngest son with little future, he had a wife, a love, a family, a purpose.

The two men spent their days honing hunting skills, playing games of courage, and competing against each other for the attention of the serving girls. And nights that saw discussions from politic to farming, or perhaps listening to Court Musicians. David had never known such luxury and relaxation. Being the youngest of his father’s children, it was his responsibility to take care of his older brothers while they worked in the fields or with the flocks. But now he had a wife and servants to see to his needs.

“I delight in thee, my David. Herewith I giveth thee my cloak.” And Jonathan took off his royal blue cloak and laid it upon the shoulders of his friend. Jonathan was just as faithful to God and David, and it comforted David to know that not all of King Saul’s Court had lost the way of the Lord.

Humbled, David accepted the gift, but protested the symbol, as blue was worn only by those of the royal line. He turned to look into his beloved’s face; deep brown eyes lined with pale lashes, aquiline nose, and shoulder-length brown hair. Astounded that such a man – a good man – loved him, a modest shepherd, he reached up to touch Jonathan’s face and gently brushed it with his fingers. “I loveth thee too much to take thy rights.”

“The prophet Samuel sayeth that a son of Jesse will be anointed king over Israel. I shalt be proud to call thee my king.” To prove his words, Jonathan prostrated himself in front of David and grasped his strong callused hand, kissing the palm in reverence.

In shock, David raised Jonathan from his knees. The fear he felt from what Jonathan suggested – and should either man be found out – gave way to awe, and David grasped Jonathan’s neck, pulling the other man closer, giving him a ardent kiss as he lowered the two of them onto the pallet in the center of Jonathan’s tent. David had never felt such passion, beauty, and love before, even with his new wife.

And so Jonathan’s soul was knit with the soul of David and the two made a covenant between them. And that covenant was before God, and God was pleased.

Late at night thereafter, Jonathan would dismiss his servants & musicians, and he & David knew each other. But David always retired to his tent or rooms - and his wife, lest he shame Jonathan and Mikal. The Pharisees had always taught that God frowned upon such things, but men in other cultures that visited King Saul’s Court openly flaunted their young male lovers. How could man hold himself as high as God and decide what God liked and didn’t, he wondered? Eventually David decided that if God was unhappy with how David was living his life, He would make it known. And David was always faithful to God first, making sure he lived the laws as God had given them to Moses.

Under the warm covers, Starsky snuggled closer to his blond and began paying homage to Hutch’s neck with his mouth. “Jonathan.” He breathed gently. “Thou art mine and I am thine.”

The light ministrations roused Hutch from his sleeping state, and he wriggled under the tickling dry lips and hot breath.

Slowly, Starsky moved down to Hutch’s bare shoulder and arm, and mouthed into the tanned skin, “Jonathan, mine own.”

Hutch brought his hands up to the curled head to encourage the loving mouth. “Starsk, mmm, you sure know how to wake up a guy.” He looked down and noticed that Starsky was still asleep and dreaming. He rubbed the thick head of curls beneath his hands. “Starsk? Hey…”

“Jonathan….” The dry lips moved over Hutch’s pectorals to outline the name, as if Starsky were painting it on Hutch’s chest.

“Jona…? What the?” Hutch lifted the curly head in his palms and gazed upon Starsky’s sleeping countenance that was glazed with passion. “Starsky! Damnit, wake up!” He tapped the cheeks between his palms several times to rouse his lover.

The mussed head of curls rose up and Starsky looked around as if confused by his surroundings. Feeling the tension in the long body beneath him, he brought his hands up to soothe Hutch’s side and relax the taut body.

Wriggling out from underneath his lover, Hutch distanced himself as much as possible from Starsky. He looked up with wary eyes. “Starsky, who’s Jonathan?”

Confusion alit in the dark blue eyes and Starsky’s brows knit together. “Jonathan? I don’t know any Jonathan.”

Believing him, but feeling left out, Hutch still pouted. “Well, you were pawing all over me while calling out that name.”

“I’m sorry babe. It must’ve been just a dream. I swear to you Hutch, I don’t know any Jonathan.” Starsky rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” A whisper of teasing had entered his voice.

“Of course not. I trust you. It’s just,” Hutch paused, hating to admit to any weakness…anything as petty as jealousy, “it’s unnerving to hear your lover call out another man’s name at the same time he’s getting amorous.”

“Aw, Hutch. I’m sorry. I really don’t remember what the dream was about.” Rubbing his eyes, he looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Damn. We’re late again.”

The dream already forgotten, Hutch rolled onto his side and put his arms around his devilish lover. “Since when do you care about being late?” He snuggled closer, “You started something – now don’t you think you should finish it?” burying his nose into the messy, lush curls.

Starsky stared at him warily. “You sure that dream didn’t make you feel jealous? This isn’t like you. You hate to be late.”

“Dobey can wait for once. And yes, I’m positive I’m not jealous.” Then Hutch shut up as his mouth found, and latched onto, a pale earlobe, nipping and pulling the tiny appendage as his tongue traced the outer cartilage.

With difficulty, Starsky pushed himself away and rolled out of bed, taking most of the covers with him. “As much as I’d love to take advantage of your offer, we gotta finish the paperwork on the Phillips case. The DA needs it today to file their charges within the time limit.” He clicked his tongue and jerked a thumb upward to indicate his lover should be up and at ’em also.

Disappointed, slightly horny, and confused by his partner’s unwillingness to play around – most unlike Starsky, Hutch sighed and rolled out the other side of the bed to prepare himself for another day. Left high and dry with his blood pulsing in his veins after Starsky’s amorous handling, the rest of the day from that point on seemed off to Hutch; the shower wasn’t warm enough, the eggs and coffee were cool, the air was filmy and crusty, the Torino’s engine extra loud.

All day, Starsky kept up a constant chatter about their ongoing cases, the troubles with his car, vacation ideas, etc; causing the unused adrenaline in Hutch’s systems to turn to tension. As Starsky pulled in front of Venice Place at the end of the work day, Hutch got out and slammed the passenger door, Starsky grimacing behind him at the impact of heavy metal upon metal.

His nerves shot and head pounding from the frustration of that morning, Starsky’s faux pas, not to mention the constant verbal onslaught his partner laid on him, Hutch fumbled with the keys in his hand as he hurriedly tried to unlock his door.

The next thing Hutch knew, Starsky was placing one of his hands over his own that held the keys; to calm Hutch.

A blaze of sensation shot from his hand where they were connected, and up Hutch’s arm. He was still amazed at the response that a simple touch by his partner could generate – even after all this time. But he held onto lingering disappointment and told Starsky that he wanted to be alone tonight. “Just go home,” he told his shadow as Starsky tried to follow him in.

“Go home?!” Starsky was stunned. “But babe, why?”

“I’ve got a headache. I’ve had one all day just listening to your nonstop babble.” Hutch finally got the door opened and stood at the entryway. “And I don’t think I could stand to hear you call out some other guy’s name two nights in a row while lying next to me.”

Chagrined and slightly hurt, Starsky turned away toward the stairs. “I told you I was sorry. Don’t even remember anything about it,” he mumbled. But he honored Hutch’s request and took off to his own place, alone.

That night Hutch was the one with the troubled sleep. He could never get comfortable without the warm, compact, muscular body of his best friend and lover beside him. Starsky, however, slept well burrowed within his blankets; pillows placed beside him to soothe his aching psyche. Without Hutch beside him, there were no disturbing dreams of a mysterious lover named Jonathan.

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 2

The next morning, Hutch met Starsky at the precinct door with a fresh cup of coffee. “Sorry about last night. I really wasn’t feeling well yesterday.” He offered the steaming mug to his partner as a way of apologizing.

Warily accepting the peace offering, Starsky asked Hutch, “What the hell was your problem last night? And don’t tell me that crap about – you know – the name thing.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay?” His partner tilted his head toward the nearly full room of cops.

They didn’t get settled for long before Captain Dobey came out of his office asking to speak with them. He indicated that they should have a seat, then closed the door behind them.

Once seated, Dobey went straight to the point. “Have you guys discussed your future careers with the Department, like I suggested the other day?”

The two detectives before him just looked at each other without saying anything, which Dobey took as a ‘no’.

“You two are possibly the best investigators this department has. Your intuition and instincts could be better served elsewhere.” He paused, gathering his next ammunition. “Isn’t it better to move on now, rather than take a chance that next time – and there will be one – will be the last time. You both deserve better than becoming a statistic.”

“We’re good at what we do.” Starsky began to protest.

Dobey looked hard at him. “You’ve been shot, what? Four times in the last six years? And you almost died several years ago during the Gunther investigation. You’re both almost 40. How much more do you think your bodies can take? Do you want to take that chance?”

“I don’t want to lose Hutch as a partner.”

“You’re taking a bigger chance of losing him on the streets now, if you don’t listen to what I’m saying. It would hurt others in this department if something happened to either of you.”

“Aw, Captain. We didn’t know you cared.”

He ignored Starsky. “Listen you two, I’ve been where you are. I can say without being too immodest that I was a damn good investigator, too. But I knew when it was my time to scale back, to take a less dangerous position. You can still do good work, help others in different capacities than as street cops.”

Hutch was absently tapping his forefinger into the arm of the chair. “We understood all this when you first addressed it, sir. We just haven’t had time to discuss it.”

“I suggest you do so as soon as possible, then. There are various openings coming up in the next few months due to retirements, and some of those should appeal to both of you.” Dobey finished with a warning. “If you don’t, Dave especially with his medical history, could be taken off the street roster and placed somewhere safer, somewhere he doesn’t want to go. The Department has occasionally pulled cops off the street when they feel health and safety can be a deterrent.”

“We’ll discuss it.” Hutch promised, as both detectives rose from their chairs, effectively finishing their conversation.

Pulling their ongoing case files their brief meeting with Dobey, they headed out to Starsky’s car to run down a few snitches. They pushed their conversation with their superior from their minds. Driving through the streets as they kept an eye out for recent parolees and their informants, they chatted briefly about pending cases.

Looking out the passenger window, Hutch finished the apology he started back in the squad room. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you last night, Starsk. Well, one thing just led to another.” He shrugged his shoulders and glanced sideways at his partner to see how the apology was going over.

Without taking his eyes from the road, Starsky kept his left hand on the wheel, and grabbed his partner’s knee with his right and squeezed. “Just don’t make a habit of it, babe.” Putting his hand back on the wheel to make a turn, he flashed a grin at his contrite partner. “I don’t like sleeping alone when I don’t have to.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a problem sleeping without you, too.” Light blue eyes softened in love and understanding, as they tried to convey to Starsky’s darker ones that he, too, had had a miserable night.

Too close to a soapy scene for Starsky, he quickly turned Hutch’s words to playfulness. “Then I guess you’ll have to make it up to me.”

Wide grins and twinkling eyes met across the interior of the car and they continued on in companionable ease. Nothing more was said of the previous night, but after reporting back to the precinct after snagging a mugger and following up on some leads, they logged out for the rest of the day and headed for Starsky’s without question or discussion.

Eating dinner while sitting on the couch, Hutch brought up the subject of the mysterious dreams again. “These dreams, Starsk. Do you think they might have something to do with Dobey suggesting we move on? Take the Lieutenant’s exam or other, less dangerous positions? That’s a big change for us, job-wise.”

“I don’t know, Hutch! I keep telling you that I don’t remember them.” Starsky threw his hands up in the air, frustrated with himself; unable to remember the whys or wherefores of his strange dreams.

“Maybe you don’t want to break up the partnership, move to other departments.”

“Hell, no. I don’t want to work with anyone else. No one knows me the way you do, and visa versa. We might get different shifts, different buildings; barely see each other. What if you get sent out on a case and trouble happens? I don’t want to take the chance of you out there without me to watch your back.”

Hutch looked at him affectionately, “We’ll have to eventually, you know. Leave the more physical stuff to the younger guys. Especially if they discover our relationship. Wouldn’t it be better to make those choices ourselves than to have them thrust upon us.”

Starsky wanted to drop the subject. “Let’s talk about something else.” Leaning over, Starsky took Hutch’s face in his hands and kissed him passionately. “Like how I’d rather do my own thrusting.” He added wickedly while giving a little thrust of his groin into Hutch’s side.

Their lovemaking that night was an intense affirmation of all the feelings they had for one another. Even before becoming lovers, they were unable to hide the depth of their emotions; unashamed to show their feelings by touch and language. It wasn’t any different once that last intimate step was taken, only with more levels and layers.

And Starsky’s dreams that night were just as intense….


~*~


And Saul became afraid of David because the Lord was with him, and was departed from Saul. There was tension in the palace of Saul, as he who previously was in the Lord’s graces became vicious and angry. The servants also loved David for his outgoing nature and his honor; they feared their master who held life or death over them, but did not love him.

The elder man tried to trick David into doing that which went against his duty to his God. But still David never defied Saul directly or showed disrespect to his king. All which made King Saul angrier, prone to mistakes and harsher with his people. Even Saul’s advisers began to defer to David, rather than to Saul’s sons.

And Saul spake to his servants that David shouldst be slain. Because David was loved and held up in their eyes, one of the servants spake to his Prince of Saul’s desire. Jonathan was in fear for his friend and beloved. He loved much in David, so Jonathan warned him, saying “Saul, my father, seeketh to kill thee; now therefore, I pray thee, take heed of thyself and abide in a secret place in the field. And I will commune with my father and what I see, that I will tell thee.” He trembled in fear for David’s life as he laid hands upon David.

But David knew what Saul’s decision wouldst be, and he was not afraid. “Thy father certainly knoweth that I have found love and grace in thine eyes. He knoweth that I am beloved of thee.” He had no fear of Saul, only for Jonathan. David wanted no consequence to fall upon Jonathan. He would give up everything – walk away from it all. His wife, wealth, family, status; yes, even his beloved. He put his trust in God that He would provide and see that His will be done. But he told Jonathan not be too hasty and draw attention to himself, and he convinced his Prince to let David hide himself in town.

So David escaped his king and family, and hid himself in a nearby field. The reeds were tall and the field large. All the while concerned that King Saul would use his considerable power to cause harm to Jonathan or his family.


“Jonathan, beloved. My Grace,” Starsky mumbled as he tossed his head on the pillows.

His voice woke Hutch, whose eyes focused on the troubled face of his lover.

“There is but a step between me and death.” The blue eyes were moving behind closed lids, and the pouting mouth spoke the words with clarity.

Those words frightened Hutch, as he wondered what kind of a dream Starsky was having now. Leaning over, he gathered the stirring head in his large hands and gently kissed his lover to bring him from his troubled dreams.

Hutch was planting whispers of kisses on Starsky’s face when the latter’s eyes startled open. “Hutch? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you the same. You were having a nightmare I think, and talking about death.”

Rubbing his face harshly, Starsky got up to make a bathroom run and splash cold water on his face without responding. Walking back nude into the bedroom, he glanced over at the clock on the bedside stand and grinned slyly. He waggled his eyebrows at the long form in his bed. “Since we’re both wide awake, how about we use it wisely?”

Hutch knew he didn’t have anything to worry about in regards to Starsky’s faithfulness. When, for crying out loud, would Starsky have time for another lover. It just hurt being left out. There had to be some reason for these dreams.

This time their loving was gentle and slow, as each grasped onto different feelings. Hutch, worried over his partner’s words and dream; guilty that he couldn’t do anything about them to ease Starsky’s pain. Starsky was left with feelings of apprehension from those same dreams, and frustration that they were upsetting Hutch.


When the moon had come over, the king sat down to eat. Jonathan and all the people arose, yet David’s place was empty. Nevertheless Saul spake nothing of it, for he thought something hath befallen David. And after the second day came to pass that David’s place was empty, Saul said unto Jonathan “wherefore cometh not the son of Jesse to eat neither yesterday nor today?”

And Jonathan answered in earnest, “David asked leave of me to go to Shechem.”

Then Saul’s anger was kindled against Jonathan as he kneweth he spake not the truth, and he said unto him, “Thou perverse son of a rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own shame and unto the shame of your nakedness? For as long as the son of Jesse liveth, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die.” And in anger Saul cast a javelin at Jonathan to smite him; whereby Jonathan knew that it was determined of his father to slay David.

So Jonathan arose from the table and excused himself from his father’s presence for the night, keeping his anguish hid from his angry sire. Couldn’t his father see how righteous and good David was? If God had chosen David as Saul’s successor, who were they to argue His will?

And it came to pass in the morning that Jonathan went into the field to tell David of all he had learned, his heart heavy with sorrow. Returning with a little lad, Jonathan said to him, “Run, find the arrows which I shoot.” And as the lad ran, Jonathan shot an arrow far behind the lad, amongst the tall grown weeds, far from sight. And Jonathan cried after him, “Make speed, haste, stay not.” But the lad knew not anything, only Jonathan and David knew the matter. And whence the lad came back, Jonathan gave his artillery unto him and told him to carry them to the palace in his place.

As soon as the lad was gone, David arose from his place amongst the flowering weeds, and fell on his knees to the ground. Jonathan lifted him and they kissed one another and wept. Their sadness apparent as the wind echoed through the reeds along the banks of the nearby river.

And Jonathan said unto David, “Come and let us go further out into the field.” They left for further a field to mask themselves from Saul’s emissaries, lest they be discovered and killed for their passions. Then Jonathan made another covenant with David saying he did not fear death. “If the Lord requires it, even at the hand of David’s enemies.” Threat of death would not stay their love. And Jonathan caused David to swear again because he loved him as he loved his own soul.

And Jonathan said to David, “Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn to each other in the name of the Lord, my seed and thy seed will be together for ever.” And David arose and took leave from his wife, family, lover, and status in Saul’s court, looking behind not once, weeping “Jonathan, mine own! For ever I vow.” Sorrow and pain resounding through each word, as they were carried on the winds across the field to Jonathan watching his retreat.


Hutch stood over his dreaming lover. He had gotten up a short while ago to take an early morning run, deciding to let Starsky sleep a little longer after the previous night’s marathon of amorous activities.

As he ran, Hutch’s mind filled with contemplation. Who was this Jonathan that Starsky spoke of in his sleep? A past lover from his service in Vietnam? A boy he loved in New York or when he first moved out here? Had Starsky even had another male lover in his past? Hutch didn’t know for sure; they never really discussed it before. He didn’t even let his mind wander to the thought that Starsky could be in love with another or cheating on him. He knew Starsky; at least he thought he did…

NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 3

Back at his apartment, Starsky woke at the sound of his door closing. He was tangled in the bedsheets and there were drying tears on his face. Looking beside him he didn’t see his partner. “Hutch?” Starsky called, thinking he was elsewhere in the apartment. Only the chirping of the birds and the traffic from outside answered him. The overwhelming silence from inside the apartment flittered down like dust particles that swirled in streams of sunlight.

An overwhelming sense of anxiety and worry shuddered through Starsky. ‘Where was his Hutch?’

Wrapping one of the sheets around his nude body like a toga, Starsky padded into the kitchen. He found a pot of warm coffee on the sink top and a short note. Gone jogging, back in 10-15. No ‘Love Hutch’ or any other romantic qualifier on the note.

Popping into the bathroom to take a quick shower to wash away the dried sweat from the previous night, Starsky was relieved to hear the noises of his partner coming in and moving about the apartment as he finished up with his showering. Rubbing a towel vigorously over his head to absorb as much water as possible from the heavy locks, he walked out of the bathroom with nothing else on. “Hey babe? I hope you’re planning on taking a shower too?”

Not even showing surprised at Starsky’s quiet entrance behind him, Hutch came back with a smart aleck remark. “No Starsky, I thought to grace your presence with my odiferous scent.” Hutch rolled his eyes at the dumb question.

“Ode to what? Never mind.” Starsky wandered back down the hallway to the bedroom to change for work. “Why didn’t you come join me in the shower then?”

“Because Starsk, you were almost done and I don’t think we have time this morning for any extra curricular activities.

“You didn’t care about being late the other morning.” Hearing the opening and shutting the cupboard doors, Hutch was apparently looking for something halfway decent to eat. They hadn’t been shopping in awhile, and his cupboards were usually pretty bare anyway. Well bare of anything of nutritional value, as Hutch would say.

“Yeah, and you didn’t care about accommodating me then either. So we’re even.”

Startled at the surly nature of his lover, Starsky came back out to the kitchen and watched Hutch as he finished getting himself dressed. “What’s gotten into you?” Knowing what Hutch’s smart-ass response would be.

The age-old response ‘beside you?’ didn’t come, however. “Nothing.” Hutch replied shortly. Obviously he was frustrated in his search as he dropped his arms and turned, walking past Starsky without even glancing and admiring the fine form in tight jeans as he usually did. “I can’t find anything to eat around here, I might as well take my shower. We can stop for muffins on the way in.”

“And I can get my daily donut dosage.” Starsky agreed happily.

“While your partner deals with the daily sugar rush.” Hutch mumbled under his breath from the bedroom as he gathered his clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Rather than argue with his grumpy partner – a sure fire way to put both of them in a bad mood and ruin any possibility of a sex life that night, Starsky gave in to Hutch’s request to drive that day.


*****


All day long Hutch was short with Starsky. He didn’t bother taking the time to complete his morning routine; leaving his hair wet, his shirt untucked, and wearing tennis shoes instead of his usual suede shoes or boots. It was if Hutch didn’t care about his appearance.

Starsky stared at his lover’s rigid back as he walked out of the squadroom after they had check in with Dobey at the beginning of their shift. Wondering if perhaps Hutch didn’t get enough sleep the night before. He didn’t think it was anything he did or didn’t do that might be contributing to his partner’s grumpiness.

While Starsky pondered Hutch’s mood, the object of his thoughts stuck his head through the double doors of the squadroom. “Starsky! Are you gonna stand there all day like a tree, or are you gonna back me up?”

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Starsky jumped to follow Hutch, who was already halfway down the hall.

While cruising the – for once – fairly quiet streets, they got a call from Dispatch telling them to stop by The Pits.

Huggy was waiting outside for them and leaned down into the open window of the LTD. “Word on the streets is that Toga’s gonna flay Gigi – Sweet Alice’s one time roomie – ’cause she’s been holdin’ out on ’im. Thought you might wanna know.” He slapped the window frame twice in good-bye, and stood up as the two pulled away from the curb.

Toga was a well known pimp that normally ran a loose ship and let his ‘girls’ fend for themselves, as long as they checked in with him occasionally and, of course, paid him his ‘fees’. Gigi was one of Toga’s early models who’d been with him a long time, and amazingly hadn’t succumbed to drugs or drink.

“Well, let’s go see if we can find Toga or Gigi.” Starsky logged the information into their notebook.

Surprisingly – or maybe not with their luck, they spotted Toga’s metallic purple Corvette as it turned in front of them just moments later.

“With that paint job, it’s like he wants to be found.” Starsky observed.

Glaring over at his partner, eyes widened incredulously, Hutch felt his mouth drop open, but didn’t say anything about pots and kettles.

Following him a few more blocks, they were not surprised to see him pull up next to the corner where Gigi was working. In less than two minutes he had gotten out of the car, grabbed the woman’s arm to force her into the passenger’s side and drove away, not realizing that two cops were close behind.

They followed him to Venice and slowed down when he turned down a gravel roadway to a bleak field near a smelly, dirty canal filled with pollutants from local factories. Parking far enough away not to be noticed, they crept to the edge of the canal through the tall weeds, where Toga was shaking Gigi roughly by the arm, releasing her only to smack his fist upside her head.

Hutch charged, hitting the scarred Hispanic man in the back, and knocked Toga away and down from Gigi, while Starsky went to her aid. Rolling in the dirt and grass and struggling for the upper hand, both combatants fell into the murky water of the canal. Toga came up coughing first as he struggled to the embankment. Starsky was just about to go to his partner’s aid, when he saw Toga crawl up the side with Hutch hanging onto his ankle, forehead bleeding slightly from a slight cut.

Pulling the weakened pimp to the top, Starsky pushed him onto his stomach and pulled his arms behind him, cuffing the wet man. Then he leaned over the side and helped his partner up. Going to the back of the LTD, he pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around his drenched and dirty partner, ignoring the complaints of their perp.

“I called for a back-up to take this guy in. We’ll take Gigi home, and then get you in some warm clothes.”

Catching his breath, Hutch shook his head in the negative. “No, Starsk. I can shower and change at Parker. Let’s take care of this guy and get Gigi’s statement before heading home.”

“But Hutch, you need to get out of those wet clothes. You know you’re susceptible to…”

Glaring at his partner, Starsky knew how Hutch felt about being reminded that his lungs would always be vulnerable to lung problems since his bout with a plague that had nearly killed him.

Holding up his hands in retreat, Starsky knew not to argue with Hutch when he was in one of his moods. “Okay. But don’t think I’m gonna nurse you if you get sick.”

Snorting back a smart remark, Hutch replied, “I’m not gonna get sick. And I don’t need you mother-henning me, either.”


*****


But Hutch did get sick. By the time their shift ended, he was already running a mild fever and had a weepy nose. Starsky unwillingly took the keys to the LTD, as Hutch was in no shape to drive, and took his partner home. Driving the LTD wasn’t Starsky’s favorite activities; in fact, the main reason they used his car was to avoid driving the LTD in case something this happened. Wouldn’t you know that the stubborn idiot would get sick when we were driving his car.

Tucking his big, grumpy blond into the brass bed, Starsky got some aspirin and orange juice for his ailing partner. Orange juice and chicken soup were the Jewish cure for all, according to Starsky’s mother. He smoothed back the freshly washed blond strands from Hutch’s forehead, avoiding the white strip that covered the slight injury. He felt the warmth radiate from his skin. “Just relax babe. Go to sleep, I’ll be here.”

“Go on home Starsk. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine come morning. You stay here, you might catch it too.”

Since his fever was only 99.5, Starsky reluctantly agreed, but placed the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. “You call me, Hutch, if you feel worse or you need me. I’ll come right over.”

Concerned about Hutch, Starsky didn’t sleep much that night and when he did, he didn’t dream – at least none that stayed with him.

The following day Starsky ended up calling Hutch in sick. It was obvious that his cold had moved to his chest, and his fever had risen to just over 100. After checking with his partner early in the morning, Starsky rubbed some Vapo-Rub on Hutch’s chest, and fixed him a breakfast of orange juice, aspirin, and wheat toast; after which Starsky left him to sleep, promising that he’d call frequently during the day to check on his partner.

When he arrived at Venice Place that evening, Starsky closed the door quietly behind him in the event Hutch was sleeping. Walking quietly to the alcove, Starsky leaned over the prone figure and placed his hand on Hutch’s forehead, relieved that his temperature was down. He smoothed his hand down Hutch’s temple and petted his hair into some semblance of neatness. Why do you gotta be so damn stubborn, Hutch? No matter what Hutch said, he was staying.

*****


Feeling the gentle ministration, Hutch opened his eyes. He had been awake for some time, unable to sleep very much due to the cough in his chest. The care and comfort that his lover provided was a healing medicine of its own merit, and Hutch would never deny himself that care.

After bringing his partner some aspirin, water, cough syrup, and warmed chicken soup, Starsky settled down on the couch to watch the evening news. But Hutch stayed in bed and rolled onto his side facing the wall, spreading his body over the big bed, leaving no doubt of how unwell he was still feeling, and no room for his lover.

Eventually Starsky made up a bed on the couch, where he was near enough to still hear Hutch’s heavy breathing and deep coughs, resigned to the fact that his sick partner didn’t want to be cuddled. In what was becoming a pattern, Starsky again had no distraught surprising dreams without Hutch beside him to disturb his sleeping patterns.


*****


The next morning Starsky woke upon hearing the continuous blaring of Hutch’s alarm. He went to turn it off and check on his sick partner. Touching the golden face with the back of his hand, Starsky was relieved to note the absence of fever – though he could still hear the tightness in Hutch’s chest as it rose and fell with each breath.

“Hutch? Wake up buddy. Do you feel up to goin’ in today?” Starsky shook Hutch’s shoulder and badgered him to wake up.

Eventually Hutch’s eyes opened, darker blue than usual and unhappy. “Leave me ’lone. Don’t want to go in. Just want to lay here.” He closed his eyes and burrowed beneath the covers.

That wasn’t like his partner, Starsky thought. Hutch never let a simple cold put him down. “Come on Blintz, stop sulking. You’re fine. I can tell by the pout in your voice. I’ll get Dobey to keep us on desk duty today.”

The covers were pushed back forcefully as Hutch glared at Starsky. “Fine. If I agree to go in will you leave me alone?!”

Getting off the bed, Starsky threw up his hands in retreat. “I hope you get over this cold soon, Hutch. You’re even grouchier than usual.” He stomped to the bathroom to get dressed, thinking, This is gonna be a winner of a day.

After a quiet and tense filled day, Starsky knew better than to suggest they spend the night together. Instead he dropped off Hutch at his own apartment, and told him he could drive himself to work the next day and every day after that, until he got over whatever was bothering him. Starsky was a little agitated himself that Hutch wouldn’t confide in him.


*****


After mulling over his feelings while alone that evening, Hutch realized he was being foolish. When would Starsky ever have time for another lover? And why did he have to share everything that had happened before he met Hutch? If this ‘Jonathan’ was someone he knew from Vietnam, Hutch could understand Starsky not wanting to talk about it and having to relive the nightmare of the war. Feeling a little guilty, Hutch decided he would give Starsky a call and suggest a day at the park for their next schedule day off – which happened to be the next day.

His partner sounded relieved at the offer as Starsky accepted. Hutch figured a night or two apart wouldn’t harm the relationship and would strengthen their resolve to never take the other for granted.


*****


Abandoning the idea of going to their usual park as it was a beautiful Sunday and would most likely be filled to capacity, they opted to travel farther out to an out-of-the way field that was nicely trimmed and filled with wild flowers. By chance there was also an archery field within 100 yards.

The two relished in kisses that were open and free; fed each other sandwiches and pieces of bananas; they relaxed in each other’s arms while watching the clouds overhead; and they talked a bit about Hutch’s worries over Starsky’s dreams.

Sitting up and crossing his legs, Hutch began to twine clover and grass between his fingers as his mind worked. “You know, Starsk. I wish you’d open up to me more.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hutch? You know I talk to you about shit I never would’ve talked about with anyone else.” He turned onto his side, to face his partner.

“You sound like I force you to discuss our relationship.”

Starsky sat up, and looked at Hutch. “Hey? What does our relationship have to do with any of this?” He waved his hand outward. “These dreams?”

The other man reared back. “You don’t think you shouting out ‘Jonathan’ in your sleep isn’t affecting our relationship?” Hutch asked incredulously.

Starsky shrugged. “It shouldn’t.” He grabbed Hutch by the shoulders and pulled him forward. “Hutch, listen carefully and listen close. I…love…you. Only you.” He released the blond. “I’m not saying I wasn’t in love with Terry or possibly Rosie. But there has never been any other guy. Now or before. Never. You gotta trust me, babe.”

Hutch sighed. “I do. It’s just…I’ve never been very lucky in the love department and maybe my mind is subconsciously wondering when this one will end.”

“Never, love. Not even after one of or both of us is gone.”

Starsky, sensing that Hutch’s allergies were beginning to act up due to lying among the wild flowers and weeds, stood up and brushed off his jeans, then offered his hand to his recumbent lover. “Up and at ‘em Blintz. Let’s go play some Frisbee.” He wanted to shake the moroseness away from Hutch.

Mumbling that he really wanted nothing more than to go home, but agreeable to whatever Starsky wanted, Hutch accepted the proffered hand and pulled himself up.

Rather than showing off to each other with tricks, they just tossed the plastic disk back and forth for awhile. Until Starsky caught sight out of the corner of his eye three arrows flying far from their objective, and a young boy racing after to retrieve them. He’d barely caught the Frisbee as it hit him mid-chest, when a sharp pain shot through the top of his head.

Rooted by the pain and the pounding in his head, he slowly turned to watch the scene next to him play out. The images became blurry and another identical scene appeared in his mind and overlapped the real one before him.

Alarmed by the sudden paleness and noticeable weakness of his lover, Hutch ran over and caught Starsky as he began to collapse to his knees. He reached up and touched Hutch’s face as tears fell from his darkened eyes.

“The Lord be with me and thee for ever.” And then David Starsky collapsed.

NS: David and His Jonathan, Part-4

Starsky came to in the car and refused to be taken to the doctor’s or the hospital. Reluctantly, and against his better judgment, Hutch took his lover home, since Starsky appeared to be okay. Ever since the Gunther shooting, Hutch was always a little defensive when it came to Starsky’s health.

Making sure Starsky was settled comfortably on his couch with a glass of orange juice, Hutch asked him what happened back at the field.

“I don’t know. I just felt real dizzy and got this horrible pain in my head.” He lifted his hand to the top of his head and pushed down on the curls.

Hutch knelt down and looked into Starsky’s eyes, which appeared clear but confused. “What was with the biblical talk?”

“Huh? What talk?”

“You said something about the Lord and me and thee forever.” Hutch began a gentle exploration of Starsky’s head to make sure there were no bumps or cuts. Tenderly squashing the curls, he separated the dark strands to get a better look at his scalp.

Expression confused, Starsky shook his head slowly, “I swear to you, Hutch, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Satisfied that his partner had no injuries, Hutch sat down on the couch next to him. “I’m betting it has something to do with those strange dreams you’ve been having lately.”

“But I don’t even remember any of those dreams, at least not the details…just impressions.”

“Well if something like this happens again, I want you to see someone.”

“Like a shrink?!” groaned Starsky.

“Or your regular doctor,” Hutch suggested, “and don’t give me any flak about this. I’m starting to get worried. First you start spouting off in another language and talking in a different dialect, then you’re saying another man’s name in your sleep, and now you pass out after getting a severe headache.” To emphasize his point, Hutch pointed his finger in Starsky’s face, which the other man batted away.

“All right, all right, whatever. Anything to stop your nagging.” But Starsky smiled when he said it.

“A nag, am I?”

“Yeah, Hutchinson, and a mother hen to boot.”

“Well, maybe I should just mother hen you into taking your clothes off so I can make you feel better?” With a fake snooty accent, Hutch added “You just leave it up to Dr. Hutchinson. He knows the cure for what ails you.”

Grinning like a randy teenager, Starsky rose from the couch and walked toward Hutch’s bedroom. “Well Dr. Hutchinson, I think I need to get more comfortable while you work your ‘cure’.” And he twitched his ass to entice his willing lover to follow him.

That night, Starsky dreamed again….


As David ran, hiding under the cover of night and a worn peasant cloak that Jonathan found for him, he wept in loss of his home and family. But mostly he wept in loss of his love. “Jonathan, thou art the truest love ever known.” Not even facing the Philistine army filled him with as much fear and dread as leaving the city of his birth. He didn’t know what lay ahead or what the Lord had planned for him.

He only knew that Saul would slay him; yet he was reluctant to leave Jonathan to face alone the upcoming trials Samuel had prophesied about. ‘But Jonathan bade me to take leave and hide myself’ he told himself as he left the city of his birth. And he could not disobey his lover and his Prince. Nor did he want to disobey the Lord and his destiny.

“For ever thou hast promised me. The Lord will smile upon our countenance and we wilst be blessed once more.” Only the hope of their covenant kept David on his course. And trust in the Lord that what He had planned for them would not deny their love. He couldn’t even think of what his life would be like without Jonathan by his side, but he would do as the Lord commanded.


Starsky cried out in his dreams, an anguish that crossed through time and space, erupting in a legion of tears falling from beneath his long lashes and onto swollen cheeks.

Tormented moaning and the trembling body awoke Hutch, and he gathered Starsky close and rubbed his arms to soothe his troubled partner awake.

“Shhh, David. It’s just me.”

While his eyes were opened, his gaze was blurred, and it was apparent that Starsky wasn’t ‘there’ – in the same place as Hutch. “Jonathan? Hast thou come to me?”

“David, it’s me. Hutch. Ken.”

His face going from anguish to confusion to relief, Starsky buried his face in Hutch’s chest. “Hutch. Oh man, I think I had another dream.”

“Yeah, you sure did. Do you remember any of it?”

Starsky just shook his head. “Uh uh. Just a sense of sadness.” He wiped his wet cheeks and looked up at Hutch. “I, uh, did I say anything out loud?”

Hutch smiled gently. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What’d I say?”

Smoothing the curls, Hutch looked outward toward the wall. “Oh just… ‘Jonathan, hast thou come back to me’ or something like that.”

“Shit. Not again.”

“Don’t worry about it buddy. I know you love me.” He kissed the top of Starsky’s head. “But you’re getting me worried.”

“I’ll be okay. I just gotta get over these dreams.”

“So you’ll go see a psychiatrist then?”

Rolling his eyes, Starsky tucked his face back into the warmth of Hutch’s body. “Quit pestering me. It’s not so bad I can’t live with them.”

“Ah, but can you sleep with them?”

“Aw, just shut up and kiss me so we can go back to sleep.”


~*~


The following night Starsky had another dream. More visions of running through desert towns and barren fields. But was he running from something or toward something…or someone? This time Starsky startled himself awake. He looked over at his sleeping lover, then at the clock, which read 2:10 a.m. Sighing, he slowly rose from the bed, careful not to jostle it and bother Hutch.

He threw on a pair of briefs and crept into the living room, where he turned on a lamp and sat down in the lounge chair to read. His anxiety over the weird dreams wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. And that wasn’t like him. Rarely did anything keep him getting his daily six hours – even on stakeouts. Well, except bears or Satanists disturbing his vacation. Maybe some heavy reading will put me to sleep without any weird dreams, he thought, knowing that he had to get some sleep in order to perform his job to the best of his ability.

Hutch found him at 6:00 a.m., curled up on the lounge chair on his side with his face pressed against the back of the leather chair, and a throw blanket over him, a book dangling from his fingers. Starsky looked like a child who curled up and fell asleep in some absent grandparent’s lap while reading his favorite fairy tale. Mouth opened, long lashes fluttering with each snore. That he – Ken Hutchinson – was blessed with the love and care of this soul almost overwhelmed him.

Shaking his head to clear his vision, Hutch grinned wryly and removed the book and set it on the end table. “You’re gonna have a hell of a backache when you wake up buddy.” Repositioning the blanket around Starsky’s shoulders, Hutch reached out and caressed the exposed side of Starsky’s stubbled face.


*****


For the most part, Starsky felt more rested when he woke up, even with the stiff back. The right side of his face was numb from being smashed against the leather chair for most of the night, but he didn’t wake with the feelings of fear and torment that he had during the night and other previous nights.

He made a conscious decision not to tell Hutch that he’d dreamt again, instead playing off that Hutch’s snoring was annoying, so he’d gone in the living room to relax and get some sleep.

This same pattern went on for several more days, with Hutch finding Starsky lying either on the couch or in the leather chair at his own apartment. Hutch was concerned; he had no way of knowing what was going on with his partner. But it didn’t seem to bother Starsky to wake up every morning with a stiff back or sore neck, and it wasn’t affecting their love or professional lives, so Hutch left well enough alone.

Eventually and inevitably, Starsky’s sleep pattern interruptions began to affect his work patterns…