Day 10: The Forest for the Trees by LilyK

Starsky slowly walked beside his partner down the deserted hallway of the precinct at 3 a.m. They were both dead on their feet. Starsky scrubbed at his dry eyes. All he wanted was a quick shower and twelve hours’ sleep. The kidnapping case they’d wrapped up two hours ago had been successful, but the preceding forty-eight hours he and Hutch had spent tracking down the twelve-year-old kid had sapped every ounce of strength they’d had. A quick glance over at Hutch, and Starsky knew Hutch was as beat as he was. His face was pale, drawn, and his eyes blood-shot.

“My place? It’s closer?” Starsky said. He gave Hutch a half-hearted smile and an elbow to his ribs. “You walking in your sleep?”

Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a loud voice echoed down the deserted corridor.

“Detective Sergeant David Starsky, you are under arrest.”

Starsky spun on his heels and stared into the face of Internal Affairs Officer Guido Simonetti. Standing beside Simonetti was Officer Christopher Dryden, his shadow. Or his comic relief, as Starsky often referred to him when he and Hutch bothered to think about them at all.

“Get lost,” Starsky snapped. He cast a glance at Hutch, who had paused and was glaring at the IA officers.

“What the hell are you two up to tonight? We’re off duty, and have a lot better things to do than tap dance with you two bozos.” Hutch tugged on Starsky’s sleeve.

“Stay where you are,” Dryden said, unclipping his handcuffs from his belt.

“No way, Dryden,” Starsky said, backing up, hands raised. “I ain’t doing this!”

Simonetti drew his weapon. “Maybe you think this is some kind of a joke, but you are under arrest.”

Starsky balled his fists. Hutch stepped in front of Starsky, and minutely shook his head. Starsky met his partner’s eyes and sighed, unclenching his hands.

“What’s the charge again?” Hutch asked.

“Murder,” Simonetti said with far too much delight. “It’s a rerun, Hutchinson. You might have gotten away with offing your wife, but Starsky isn’t wiggling out of this one. It’s cut and dried.”

Hutch jabbed a finger at Simonetti. “You are a waste of space.”

“Starsky! Hutch!” Dobey hurried up to them. “This— They’re on official business.” Dobey’s tone was angry. “We’ll straighten this out, but they have a valid arrest warrant.”

“Captain, this is bullshit!” Starsky shouted.

Dobey held up a hand. “I’ll look at the evidence but for now, you have to be processed.”

Hutch stepped between Starsky and Dobey. “Now wait a second, Cap.”

“It’s out of my hands. Don’t make it worse. Starsky, go with them.” Dobey rubbed his forehead. “Please.” Turning to Simonetti and Dryden, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you could apprise me of the facts after Starsky is processed. Please.”

Simonetti grinned. “My pleasure, Captain. Nine a.m, in your office. Dryden?”

Starsky held out his arms. Dryden snapped the cuffs on his. “You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Benjamin Forest. You have the right—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” Starsky’s gaze met Hutch’s. “Forest? That piece’a shit? He got out of jail? And now he’s dead?”

Dryden scoffed. “As if you didn’t know.”

Hutch held out a hand to Starsky, but Dryden pulled Starsky away, pushing him down the corridor. “I’ll figure this out, partner. I promise,” he called out.

Starsky turned his head to give Hutch a tentative smile. “You owe me. You’d better.”

Hutch sat opposite Dobey, a cup of coffee in front of him. It had long cooled, and now its surface looked like an oil slick, a kaleidoscope of colors swimming on the cold liquid.

“I don’t understand,” Hutch said, staring into the cup. He couldn’t look up because Starsky’s badge lay in the center of Dobey’s desk. It looked like a deserted island in a world of loneliness. He shivered at the frivolousness of his thoughts.

Dobey sighed, pushing the file across the desk. “Forest was released on compassionate grounds. He has a few months to live. Pancreatic cancer.” When Hutch didn’t respond, Dobey asked, “Are you listening?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Cap.” Hutch picked up the cup, sniffed it, then set it down. “Forest. Dying. But…” He rubbed his eyes. “Dead with Starsky’s gun?”

“Ballistics confirmed that it was Starsky’s gun. Irrefutable proof.” Dobey rose and turned around. He poured Hutch a fresh cup of coffee from the pot he kept behind his desk. “Here. Drink this. It’s better than that swill out in the bullpen.”

Hutch gave a small chuckle. “Thanks, Cap. Starsky likes the cheapest coffee on the planet. When it’s his turn to bring in a canister, he goes to K-Mart for the blue light special.” He sipped the brew. “Nice.”

“Hutch, what is going on?” Dobey asked. “Would Starsky kill Forest for what he did to you ten years ago?”

“No. No, he couldn’t.” Hutch sighed deeply. “He hated Forest, of course, but this? W-wait. His gun?” He looked up and held Dobey’s gaze.

“It’s in the report.”

“I don’t care what’s in the report!” Hutch shouted, rising and sweeping the file folder onto the floor. He stared down at the scattered papers. “Sorry, Captain, but I’m going to figure this out. I’m on leave, starting now.”

Dobey stood as well. He pointed a finger. “Starsky is one of my men as well as my friend. I don’t believe for a second that he’d kill anybody unless it was in the line of duty or to save a life. Don’t get testy with me, Hutchinson! You’re on this case, starting now, and you will investigate it like you would any other case. Correctly, methodically, and professionally. Am I clear?”

Hutch’s shoulders fell before he gave himself a good mental shake. He would find out what happened, and he would find out who did this to Starsky. Starsky deserved his best efforts. He lifted his head and straightened his body. “Yes, sir. I’ll conduct this investigation so properly that it will be one for the training manual.”

Nodding to his captain, Hutch turned and walked out of Dobey’s office. As he exited, he heard Dobey say, “Good man.”

Starsky had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. When he was granted a visit from Hutch while in the detention center, he was ready to cry. Starsky was still trying to wrap his head around the judge in his bail hearing. He heard the man say, “Bail is denied.” He heard his lawyer protesting. He saw Hutch fuming, on his feet, with Dobey’s hand on his shoulder to keep him in his place. But the reality hadn’t settled in. He wasn’t a flight risk. Damn it anyway, he’d been a cop for more than ten years! Where would he go? With his life out of his hands, he was led away like a common criminal. Now, twenty-four hours later, he was sitting across from his partner, his lover, his solid foundation. In spite of the unbreakable glass between them, he was so relieved that he had trouble keeping the tears at bay.

With a will of strength, he sat down and smiled. Picking up the phone, he said, “Hey.”

Hutch picked up the receiver. “Hey. You okay?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. They’re keeping me in my own space. Everybody here knows I’m a cop. Hell, I know some of the detainees. Some we busted; others can actually read and saw the paper.” He rolled his eyes. “Imagine this: they don’t like the fuzz.”

Starsky carefully examined his partner. He could see Hutch’s struggle to remain upbeat and positive, and he appreciated the man more than words could say.

“I wish I could’ve brought you a burrito,” Hutch said, his voice soft.

To Starsky, Hutch had declared his undying love with that simple sentence. He blinked rapidly, gathering his inner strength to ask an important question. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

Hutch’s face became angry in a flash. “How could you ask me that?”

“Sorry! Sorry, blintz. I’m just… outta sorts.” Starsky gave his partner a wan smile.

Hutch nodded. “I understand. I’m out of sorts without you.” He lowered his voice. “Listen. About Forest. You got any ideas? It couldn’t be Monk; he’s dead. Who else? Who would do this and frame you?”

Starsky leaned close. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about. All of Vegas? He was a sleazy mobster. But who’s in BC? Who? Don’t care why. Hutch, could it be— Nah. Never mind. Stupid idea. Huggy got any ideas?”

“Starsk, who?”

“Forget it. It was ridiculous.”

“Time up!” The guard stood behind Starsky.

“Thanks for coming,” Starsky said. He winked at Hutch, rose, and left without looking back. It was too painful, knowing he’d see a stricken look on his lover’s face, and knowing that there was nothing he could do to alleviate Hutch’s pain.

Hutch sat in the quiet office Dobey had found for him. It was in the basement, far away from prying eyes and questioning fellow officers. Starsky’s arrest had made the papers, and Hutch had a pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. He scanned the file folder regarding Ben Forest. His own experience was conspicuously absent from the details, but for the vaguest of mentions that one Officer Ken Hutchinson had a run-in with one of Forest’s goons, Geoffrey Monk. This led Starsky and Hutch to discover that Forest was running numbers. A sweep of his main hideout, the address supplied by Monk under a plea deal, revealed evidence of drugs, along with enough information about illegal gambling and money laundering. Forest went down the way of many criminals, not on the indictments he should have been charged with, but on lesser crimes. Thanks, Al Capone.

No way Hutch could have stood up in court and explained how he’d been maliciously strung out on heroin and then driven away to be killed once the information Forest wanted had been extracted from his ravaged mind and body.

Hutch tried to read the file again, but the words blurred before his eyes. A face came to him instead. Pale, drawn, familiar. He thought about that face and pictured it in his mind’s eye. Yesterday, when he’d left Huggy’s there’d been someone in the shadows of the alleyway across from The Pits. He had barely paid attention, but his cop’s instincts must have worked when his tired brain had not. He sat up straight, eyes forward, staring at the dirty, yellowing wall. His visit with Starsky replayed in his mind. Starsky had wanted to say a name, but he’d decided at the last second not to. He was protecting Hutch. Hutch suddenly knew whom Starsky had on his mind. The face. Starsky’s trepidation. Forest. Heroin. Holy shit. Grabbing his jacket and the keys to Starsky’s Torino, he raced from the building.

“Hey, Hug.” Hutch drank the sweet cola. He needed the hit of sugar from the horrible beverage. “I need your help.”

Huggy wiped the bar. “You ‘n Starsky are my brothers, Hutch. Whatever you need.”

Swallowing another mouthful, he leaned across the bar. Hutch looked left and right to be sure no other patrons were watching or listening. There were cop haters out there, ready to waste a dirty cop. Or his partner. Hutch hadn’t kept his identity a secret from the seeder elements of Bay City, and neither had Starsky. They were well known for their commitment to duty. Not a good look when one of the partners was now perceived to be a criminal.

“I need you to use every single contact you’ve ever had in your entire life, Hug.”

Nodding, Huggy moved closer, and Hutch whispered in his ear.

The phone call from Huggy had come at 2:49 a.m. Hutch wasn’t asleep. He lay in his and Starsky’s bed, staring at the ceiling. The jangling of the phone made him jump. He snagged the receiver, listened, and hurried from the house. Starsky’s Torino sat in the driveway. Hutch unlocked the driver’s door and climbed in. He pulled his gun, checked that it was loaded, with the safety on, before holstering it. He wouldn’t let the fury he felt overwhelm him. He would do his duty. He would arrest the perp, get a full confession, and Starsky would be free.

Hutch drove into a part of town that he knew well. He’d driven these streets many times in his career with the BCPD, and he had no doubt that Huggy’s info would be accurate. Glancing at the numbers on the buildings as he passed, he saw his goal. Parking at the curb, Hutch climbed out and surveyed the area. It was quiet. Two street lamps were out, and another blinked off and on, buzzing with an irritating sound.

The building was mostly dark, with only one window on its three-story facade showing any light from behind closed drapes. Hutch patted his gun through his jacket, and walked forward. Trotting up the steps, he pushed on the outer door. It opened easily. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and paused before the door marked “201”. He didn’t bother knocking, but turned the handle and went through the unlocked door. A figure sat on the ragged sofa, visible in the light from a dim lamp.

“Hello, Jeannie,” Hutch said. He had some small measure of hope in his heart that she wouldn’t have been there, but it died immediately when he saw her thin frame sitting on the couch. He was so tired he could have cried, but instead, he walked over to her and sat down. “Why?”

Jeannie Walton stirred restlessly. Hutch observed her thin body, her limp, unwashed hair, and the scar on her right cheek. She smelled as if she hadn’t bathed in days, and looked defeated, used… old. She was barely thirty-five, yet she had the air of a person with fifty more years, and hard ones at that.

Jeannie laughed, a cold sound. “You have the balls to ask me why? Christ, Hutch, you fucked me, then you threw me over for him!” She waved a hand, throwing out her arm.

Hutch knew he looked shocked when he saw the track marks on her arm. She quickly pulled her arm to her chest, hugging herself.

“I didn’t throw you over for anybody, Jeannie, and you know it. You left me!” Hutch rose quickly. “We stood there, in front of Forest’s mansion, and you said you were leaving.”

“And you said you wouldn’t wait!” Jeanie looked at him with unveiled hatred. “Then you went to him, and now, all these years later, you’re still fucking him! Why wasn’t I good enough?”

Hutch backed up a step, her vileness a physical thing between them. “What happened to you? I thought you were going home to your parents.”

“Yeah, right. As if that would happen. Why do you think I was with that piece-of-shit Forest in the first place! I had no skills, no job, nothing but my looks and my body!” Jeannie was yelling now, and on her feet, spittle flying from her mouth. “You and your lover made it so easy. I followed you. Watched and watched, then I realized what was going on. For weeks, I watched you both fucking. Then one night when you were screwing each other, I crept in. I knew Forest had been released, and I knew where he was. It was simple to take the key from the top of your door frame, walk in, and take Starsky’s gun. High-tailed it to Forest’s place, shoot him, and return the gun. Took less than forty-five minutes, even with Bay City traffic. I even took a cab both ways!” The laughter burst from her, and she soon had tears running down her face. “You are so pitiful, not to mention fucking stupid cops for leaving firearms on the coffee table! I hope the fucking was worth it,” she said in a voice full of scorn.

“What?” Dumbfounded, Hutch stared at the woman before him. She wasn’t the frail, damsel-in-distress he remembered. She was a harridan bent on revenge for what she perceived was his betrayal.

“You didn’t come after me, Hutch. You promised!” Jeannie stepped closer to him and slapped him hard.

Hutch’s hand went to his face. Blood surged under his skin, burning the place. He would have a hand-print on his cheek that would glow red. As red as Jeannie’s fury. “I never promised. In fact, I specifically said I wouldn’t look for you! How could you? How could you kill Forest with Starsky’s gun? You are sick, twisted!”

“You aren’t very smart, are you? Jeanie scoffed. “Now get out.”

Hutch took a step towards her, reaching out. “Not a chance. You’re under arrest.”

Jeannie smirked. “Nobody will believe that little ole me did this terrible crime. I’m a not-too-bright junkie.” She turned on the tears then, dissolving into a helpless victim.

Hutch’s stomach churned, and it was all he could do to keep from vomiting on the spot. He pulled his handcuffs from his pocket, grabbing Jeannie by the wrist. He put the cuffs on her before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, hand-held tape recorder. He pressed the rewind button before hitting ‘play’.

Jeannie’s voice filled the dingy room, her contempt as she confessed her crime loud and clear. She glared at Hutch before she spit into his face.

“That will never hold up in court, moron!” she shouted.

“Might not, but it will get the charges against Starsky dropped. Now move it!”

Hutch swiped a hand at the spittle as he pulled her from the room, down the stairs, and pushed her into the backseat of the Torino. He climbed into the front and radioed for a patrol car to pick up the woman he’d arrested. He didn’t want her to taint Starsky’s car with her presence. He couldn’t even think of her as Jeannie any longer. Jeannie was a sweet, loving, needy woman he’d helped years ago. This person in his back seat was not someone he wanted to know.

Starsky bounced up the stairs to Hutch’s apartment. He turned to Hutch, who was slowly making his way up carrying a six pack of Coors and take-out burgers from Mel’s, Starsky’s favorite. Starsky came to an abrupt halt.

“What the hell is that?” Starsky touched the shiny silver metal set into the wooden door.

“That is my new double deadbolt lock.” Hutch grinned. “Key is in my front pocket, left side. I’ve got an extra for you inside. Not over the door frame any more. Not since… Well, never again!”

Starsky stared into his lover’s bright blue eyes. “Wow, you finally, finally are taking security seriously after what? Six break-ins? Or is it seven.”

“I’m not counting— Hey! You’re tickling me.” Hutch tried to dance away from Starsky’s probing fingers, but with both hands full, he could only step back into the wall.

Starsky grinned, digging into the tight pocket. He managed to wiggle his fingers deeper than necessary, pushing his fingertips into Hutch’s groin as far as the pocket material would permit. He wiggled them, making Hutch shimmy and twist. “Gonna fuck you through the mattress,” he whispered, cupping Hutch’s cock through his cords while his fingers continued their exploration. He leaned in and kissed Hutch.

Hutch closed his eyes, sucking on Starsky’s tongue. When they broke apart, Starsky pulled the key ring from Hutch’s pocket and triumphantly held it up. He patted Hutch’s cheek. “She did a number on that fair skin, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Hutch blurted. “Starsk—”

“Yeah, yeah, come on. We’ll discuss world peace later.” Starsky unlocked the door and ushered Hutch inside, taking the beer and food bag from his hands. He put the beer in the fridge and the food on the counter. “You ‘n me. Bedroom. Now.”

Hutch obeyed, undressing as he walked. Starsky laughed, following suit, until they were both laying stretched out on Hutch’s bed.

“Thanks, partner,” Starsky said.

Hutch gave Starsky a shy smile. “Love you, mush-brain. Couldn’t leave you in prison where everybody would get a piece of that fine ass of yours.” Hutch cupped Starsky’s bottom with his hands, pulling him close. “Now shut up and make love to me like it was your last time.” Hutch kissed Starsky’s nose. “For today.”

Starsky laughed. “Shouldn’t you be the one doing the honors? After all, I spent the last few days in the slammer while you swanned about, eating caviar and drinking champagne.”

“As if!” Hutch attacked Starsky with fingers, teeth, and tongue until Starsky yelled, “uncle.”

“No uncles here,” Hutch murmured, sliding lube-slicked fingers into Starsky’s ass while he sucked on Starsky’s cock.

Starsky exploded into Hutch’s mouth when Hutch found his prostate. “Hutchhhh!”

Releasing the limp cock after he’d drained it, Hutch raised his head. “You called?” He grinned at Starsky’s sprawled body. “My turn.”

Starsky waved a hand in acquiescence. “Anything.”

Hutch lifted Starsky’s ankles to hook them over his shoulders. With one hand, he guided his cock into Starsky’s welcoming body, sinking deeply. They both sighed with pleasure.

Starsky opened his eyes when Hutch began to move. He put both hands on Hutch’s cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. It was only a bit awkward, but he managed. Hutch smiled into the kiss before pumping into Starsky’s tightness. When Starsky began to play with his nipples, his eyes glassed over, and soon he was coming into his lover’s body. Starsky pulled his legs to the bed, hauling Hutch down on top of him, loving the heat and weight of Hutch’s body covering his. He kissed his lover’s earlobe.

Hutch whispered, “I love you,” into his ear, then fell asleep.

Starsky smiled. Neither had had much sleep in the last few days. He wiggled until Hutch was stretched out next to him, face down on the bed. Starsky wrapped himself around Hutch and joined him in slumber.

It was still daylight out when Hutch woke. He lifted his head to glance at the bedside clock. Ten to six. Plenty of time. Looking over at his sleeping lover, Hutch smiled. He felt so good! Slipping from the bed, he headed to the bathroom. He turned on the water to warm up, and while it did, he brushed his teeth and took a leak. Under the spray, he shampooed his hair. As he started to rinse, Starsky pushed aside the curtain and hopped in.

“Missed you,” Starsky said, kissing his lover.

“Missed you too.” Hutch returned the kiss before lathering up Starsky’s hair.

They playfully washed each other before climbing out to dry. Hutch shaved while Starsky tackled his unruly hair.

“We forgot about the burgers,” Hutch said. “We’ll have to toss them.”

“Nah. Put them in the oven to warm up. They’ll be fine.”

“The bread will be soggy.”

Starsky put on deodorant. “Doesn’t bother me. I’m starving.”

“I thought we’d eat the burgers for lunch. I ordered a special dinner from Helene for seven o’clock. I hope that’s okay.” Hutch paused, looking at Starsky in the mirror.

Starsky came up behind him, slipping his arms around Hutch’s waist and resting his chin on Hutch’s shoulder. “A’course it’s okay. Silly. Anything is fine. We’ll save the burgers for tomorrow.” He kissed Hutch’s skin.

“I love you,” Hutch said, holding Starsky’s gaze.

“I love you too.” Starsky kissed Hutch’s shoulder again. “And I’m sorry about Jeannie. Really sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Hutch covered Starsky’s hand with his. “Not your fault.”

“Okay. Thanks, buddy.” Starsky pulled away, patting Hutch’s bum. “Nice.”

“Get dressed, Gordo. Casual is fine. I want you to have a great coming home dinner.”

Hutch chose a blue shirt that Starsky always said made his eyes sparkle, along with tan cords and his Hush Puppies. He smiled when Starsky came out of the bedroom wearing clean blue jeans and a silky-soft green button-up shirt. In honor of the occasion, Hutch noticed he was wearing black slip-on shoes instead of his usual blue Adidas.

“Ready?” Hutch asked.

“Yup. Lead on, so I can watch your ass when you walk ahead of me.” Starsky gave Hutch a cocky grin.

Hutch giggled, feeling light and airy tonight. He unlocked the door, and together they trotted down the steps into Chez Héléne. Hutch opened the door and waved Starsky through. “After you,” he said with a bow.

Starsky laughed, entered and stopped dead in his tracks. Hutch stood back and enjoyed the spectacle. The huge sign stretched across the dining room. “Way To Go, Starsky!” All of their friends jumped from their seats and shouted, “Starsky!”, and “Welcome back”, and “How was the slammer?” (This from a chuckling Huggy.)

Everybody hugged Starsky, then Hutch, then each other, Hutch was sure Starsky’s back would be bruised from the thumps of welcome he received. A fine buffet rested on one long table, with aromatic smells of delicious food wafting in the air. Hutch poured two glasses of champagne and made his way over to his partner. He handed one to Starsky.

“Here’s to you, partner.” Hutch tapped his glass against Starsky’s.

The dazzling smile Starsky gave his lover made Hutch’s entire body shiver with delight. He touched his glass to Hutch’s. “To my best buddy, my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life.”

“And mine,” Hutch said, his own smile wide enough to break his face. “Now go and enjoy.”

“Thanks, Hutch.” Starsky’s grin lit up his face. “I’m starving!”

Hutch watched his partner attack the buffet, and after a few minutes of enjoying the view, he joined Starsky for a much-needed meal.