HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

A Starsky & Hutch Holiday Novel

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

© 1995 by Striped Tomato (stripedtomato@hotmail.com) This novel is a work of fiction, created solely for the entertainment of its readers and for sharing with other fans of the Starsky & Hutch TV series. No infringement is intended on the rights of anyone holding ownership of the Starsky & Hutch characters, stories or names. No profit is being made.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Starsky was slumped in the driver's seat of the Torino, finishing the last couple bites of a jumbo burrito. While Hutch was feeling the pangs of hunger of a long stakeout, he couldn't bring himself to share the bag of Mexican take-outs Starsky had selected. Oh, well, it was only fair. It was Starsky's turn to pick a restaurant--God help me, Hutch thought with a smirk.

"Here," Starsky turned the open food bag toward his partner. "Come on, Hutch. You gotta be getting hungry by now." Hutch looked down in the bag at the cooling burrito in its orange-grease-stained wrapper.

"No, thanks."

"Hey, I got you a present earlier. Look in the glove compartment." Starsky finished his burrito and wiped his hands on an already rumpled napkin. Hutch opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small pink bag.

"You bought me a present that comes in a little pink bag? Is this something I really wanna see?"

"Just open it. And I'll have you know I carried that little pink bag through a downtown business district in front of God and everybody."

"I'm touched." Hutch looked inside the bag and saw six nubby-looking cookies in the bottom of it.

"They're whole-grain granola cookies. When I saw the list of organic crud in those things, I thought of you."

"Organic crud reminds you of me? Gee, thanks, Starsk."

"There's a little bakery a few doors down from the Taste of Paradise Club, and they make outstanding bear claws. I went in there this morning to get breakfast and I got you those."

"What were you doing at a strip club at breakfast time?"

"Questioning Al Dalton--the manager."

"I remember him. Greasy little toad, but he comes up with some good tips for the right price."

"Well, it seems that the owner of Delancey's restaurant across the street complained that a couple of Al's girls are branching out to solicit for a little extra income. I guess one of them approached a customer at Delancey's and he wasn't too amused--Delancey, I mean. The customer was probably amused. Anyway, Dobey figured since Al is one of our sources, one of us should handle this. I drew the short straw."

"Since when did you consider visiting a strip club drawing the short straw?"

"Since it was breakfast time and all I got out of it was a visit with charming Al, his mono-syllabic bartender and a good whiff of stale sweat and cigarette smoke."

"Sounds exciting. Thanks for the cookies. They're pretty good," Hutch commented, chewing.

"Good. Don't be such a pig. Give me one, will ya?" Hutch responded by handing him a cookie. "I don't think anybody's gonna show here tonight. Huggy must be slipping--he seemed pretty convinced there was going to be a big drop made here tonight." Starsky appeared less than thrilled with his cookie, but finished it anyway and chased it with a gulp of coffee.

"And so we get to stare at the side of an empty warehouse for eight hours. Remind me to thank him for this one." Hutch poured himself a cup of coffee out of the thermos. "By the way, what do you know about this?" Hutch pulled a folded up form out of his pocket and handed it to Starsky.

"Dobey just approved me for a month's vacation--the entire month of December. I didn't even try asking for Christmas Day off this year."

"Was there anything in my in-box?" Starsky handed him back the form.

"Yeah--same thing. What gives?"

"YES!!" Starsky exclaimed gleefully. "I don't believe it. This is like picking the right door on 'Let's Make a Deal'--you know, when you win the car?"

"Starsk, if I knew what you were talking about, I wouldn't be asking. Now I know Dobey wasn't just visited by three spirits who convinced him to give us a month off in the spirit of the season."

"Not three spirits. Just one, and you're lookin' at 'im."

"I don't get it--and a month? That's all the vacation we've got."

"I submitted these requests about Thanksgiving time, and I had a talk with Dobey."

"That must have been some talk."

"I just leveled with him about some things. I told him we've both had a couple of really rough years. I mean when you think back, we've been through the whole thing with you getting kidnapped, Prudhomme, Bellamy and that whole poison thing, that lunatic Marcos and his band of junkies, you getting sick, me getting shot, Gillian, Abby, Terry, Rosey--I told him I thought it would really help us get our perspectives back if we could get away from all this for a while and spend a little quality time with our families. I also told him we've almost never had Christmas off and I've never had Hanukkah off to go see my mother. I asked him if we could have December off so we could go spend Hanukkah with my family and then Christmas with your family. Come on, Hutch, you could act a little enthused about this. Whaddya say, huh?"

"I don't believe he granted a month off all at one time. You must've given a real performance."

"The point is, he granted it, and this is a great opportunity. I figured we could take a road trip--drive across country to New York first, spend Hanukkah there, then we'll travel back to Minnesota to do the Christmas thing with your family." Starsky read the skepticism on his partner's face, and he looked almost panicky in response.

"Starsk, a cross-country road trip in December? You know, snow falls in other parts of the country--does the phrase 'snow-covered and slippery' mean anything to you? And what about our cases? Our contacts? We can't just drop off the face of the earth for a month. Besides, we'd spend most of our time in this car, eating greasy take-outs. Do you have any idea how long it would take to drive to New York?"

"So what? If we start out December first and it takes us a week, we'll still be there in plenty of time. We can stop along the way and see some sights and take some pictures. Aw, come on, Hutch--we'll probably never get another chance like this. You and I both know how fast all your chances can be taken away from you. This could be fun."

"You know I hate long car trips."

"This'll be different. We'll take our guitars, we'll trade off driving," Starsky paused, growing more desperate at Hutch's unmoved expression. "We'll even go in your car and you can pick all the restaurants."

"Come again?" Hutch raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, hell, I give up." Starsky slumped back in the seat. His genuinely miserable expression was not lost on Hutch.

"This is really important to you?"

"It would be to you too if you'd stop shooting holes in it long enough to think about it."

"It would be nice to see my folks again. And I'd like to meet your family--you know, see how far the nut fell from the tree."

"That's the apple, Hutch," Starsky corrected with a glare.

"Oh, right," Hutch responded with a snicker.

"Please?" This was Starsky's last ditch effort, short of getting out of the car and dropping to his knees, which he hadn't entirely ruled out in his mind.

"Okay."

"You'll do it?" Starsky's eyes widened.

"Why not? You're right--a month off for the holidays is something only a couple years of solid misery could earn us."

"This is going to be great! I can't wait to call my mother and tell her. She's not going to believe it."

"I imagine she won't. I don't believe it."

Starsky gladly took responsibility for mapping their route, figuring out driving times and estimating the costs of hotel stays along the way. Hutch deferred to Starsky on the point of which car to take, because Hutch had to admit the Torino would be more road-worthy over the long haul than his beloved Hutchmobile.

At exactly six a.m. sharp on December first, Starsky pulled up in front of Hutch's apartment building, and waited impatiently for a few moments before turning off the engine and bounding up the steps to hurry Hutch along. He planned to be viewing the Grand Canyon that afternoon, which meant getting an early start. He rapped insistently on the door, and Hutch opened it quickly. He had everything packed for the trip and was just adding some last-minute shaving gear to his luggage.

"This is the first time you've been all fired up to go anywhere at six in the morning," he commented, zipping his duffle bag.

"If we get going, we can make the Grand Canyon by this afternoon." Starsky paused. "Do you think 10 rolls of film will be enough?"

"Starsk, trust me, we won't pass more than 240 landmarks on the way. Besides, they do sell film in other states."

"I just don't want to have something spectacular right in front of my Nikon and miss it because I don't have the stupid film. I'm hungry." He opened Hutch's refrigerator and withdrew quickly, disappointed. "No leftovers?"

"I tossed everything last night. We'll be gone for over a month. I don't think there's much point in leaving perishables around to stink."

"Terrific. Well, let's get a move on. We can stop to pick up donuts on the way."

"There's a healthy thought. I thought I was going to pick out the eating places on this trip." Hutch turned out the light in his kitchen and carried the last of his things to the front door.

"Donuts don't count." Starsky gathered up a suitcase and Hutch's guitar case and started for the car while his partner carried his duffle bag and a couple bags of provisions for their stints of non-stop driving.

"So when do we arrive at the Canyon according to your itinerary?" Hutch tossed the duffle bag to Starsky, who loaded it in the trunk with the suitcase. The food and guitar joined Starsky's guitar in the backseat of the Torino.

"About two, unless I luck out on the road. Hey, did you remember to pack your ski jacket? Unless we want to buy winter coats, they're probably about our only chance of not freezing to death once we hit our destinations."

"Damn. I'll be right back." Hutch darted back into the apartment building and Starsky slid in behind the wheel. He'd have to get Dobey a real good souvenir from this trip, considering all the red tape he had gone through to approve this vacation. No one at the precinct seemed to ever recall a cop getting more than a week off at the most, and here was this whole month. Dobey had sensed Starsky was honestly feeling very burned out the day they had talked, and he had responded by doing something to "stop the rot". He had used that phrase to Starsky the last day they were at work. "If this trip 'stops the rot' so I don't lose a couple of my best people, then it's worth it."

Hutch opened the passenger door and startled him out of his reverie. Tossing his jacket in the backseat, he settled in for the official launch of the cross-country holiday odyssey, as he had jokingly called it. Starsky handed him a few sheets of paper with the painstakingly constructed itinerary.

"Tell me what you think." Starsky started the engine. Hutch silently scanned the information.

"Two nights at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville? Starsk, if we do something like that, we're going to be out of money before we even get to your mother's house, let alone Minnesota and back."

"Happy Hanukkah. The reservations are all made, prepaid on plastic. My treat."

"How can you afford that?"

"I'm not totally destitute, you know. Besides, you've always said you'd like to go to the Grand Old Opry--and I seem to recall something about you wanting to play on stage there."

"I was kidding, Starsk. I mean about the stage part."

"I have it on good authority there's an amateur contest there the second night."

"I don't know what to say."

"Easy. Say 'gee, Starsk, that sounds like fun.' It's real easy to be agreeable. Just try it."

"It does. Thanks."

"You're welcome. How do you feel about a donkey ride through the Grand Canyon? A friend of mine did that last year, and he said it's a great way to get a closer look at the rock formations, and some of the Indian ruins. I think we'll have time to do that."

"Sounds interesting. You really have this mapped out to the last detail. That's not like you."

"Well we can't very well just wander aimlessly across the country with no clue where to stop."

"I know, but you usually go for spontaneity."

"If we ever get two months off, we can be spontaneous about it."

"Maybe when we retire." Hutch snorted a little laugh. "We probably won't get another vacation until then."

The first four hours of the trip were fairly uneventful. Starsky agreed to take the first eight-hour shift of driving, but midway through, both were ready to stop and stretch their legs. After making a stop at a rest area to move around a little, they continued their journey. Starsky made some good time on the highway, and was impressed with himself to be approaching the Grand Canyon an hour ahead of his planned time. He followed a road around the South Rim of the Canyon, giving them a little taste of the sights to come. At Hopi Point, which was reputed to be one of the best vantage points, they stopped to take in the view with a number of other tourists.

The Colorado River could be seen winding like a thin snake through a bed of schist far below them. Starsky immediately had his camera focused and began shooting pictures of the river, and of the rock formations, which provided a colorful display of rosy sand stone and grey limestone caps.

"I read that there are actually marine fossils in the caps on the mountains," Starsky commented, momentarily looking out from behind his Nikon.

"This is...immense, isn't it?" Hutch leaned forward on the railing, as if the inclination of his body might help him more fully experience the vastness of it all. "Kinda makes you feel insignificant, doesn't it?"

"Something this vast and this old? Yeah, pretty much," Starsky retorted with a smile before snapping more photos.

"If we're going to do the donkey ride, we probably better head for the nearest visitor center and find our asses."

The remark brought a laugh from Starsky, who put his camera back in the camera bag and followed Hutch back to the car.

"Hey, wait!" Starsky pulled the camera back out. "Let's get a couple perspective shots here--you know, capture how small and insignificant we are?"

"You want me by the railing?"

"Yeah. Then you get one of me."

"Or we could take one of both of you if you take one of us," a female voice interjected. Starsky turned to face an attractive redhead carrying an elaborate camera. Close behind her was a petite blonde with a stunning smile.

"There's a deal I can't refuse. Especially if I get to try that camera," Starsky responded.

"Trade ya," she said with a smile as she lifted the strap bearing the camera over her head and handed it to Starsky, who did the same with his camera.

"I'm Dave Starsky, this is Ken Hutchinson."

"Samantha Thomas and this is my friend Janine Marsh. We're from Phoenix--how about you two?"

"L.A.," Hutch spoke up.

"We just arrived a little while ago. We were thinking about taking a donkey ride through the canyon. Have you ladies tried that yet?" The wheels were turning in Starsky's mind, and they seemed to be moving in unison with Samantha.

"Not yet, but we're game," she said, glancing at Janine who nodded a confirmation.

"I hope that was an invitation, or we just invited ourselves," Janine added.

"It was. We'd love the company, right Hutch?"

"Absolutely."

"How about that picture?" Samantha prodded.

"If you ladies will kindly strike a pose over there by the railing, I'll see what I can do." Starsky took a few shots of the girls, who then traded places with the guys and returned the favor. After trading their cameras back, the foursome went caravan-style to the nearest parking area and abandoned their cars to find a more primitive means of transportation through the Canyon.

Once mounted on their respective donkeys, the foursome started making their way down the trail. Since Samantha was a veteran Canyon visitor, she was elected to lead the parade. In her words, hired tour guides "are for sissies". Starsky seemed to bond with this more forceful member of the pair, while Hutch and Janine brought up the rear, conversing quietly, yet almost continuously as they made the tour. They also were greatly amused by the unofficial photography contest that Starsky and Samantha seemed to have initiated. Each would photograph the same landmark, from his or her selected angle, and of course boast that it would be the better of the two.

"So what do you guys do in LA?" Janine finally asked.

"We're police detectives," Hutch responded.

"So this is where police detectives spend their vacations, huh?" Samantha probed.

"Part of it. We're driving across country and back," Starsky volunteered.

"That would be a great photo op. Sorry. I'm a free-lance photographer--big surprise," she said with a grin.

"Now she tells me. Do you believe this woman?" Starsky asked in mock outrage. "I've been trying to compete, with my motley little camera, against a pro? Geez."

"What do you do, Janine?" Hutch asked.

"I'm a full-time secretary, part-time college student. I'd like to be a teacher. I work at one of the magazines Samantha works with pretty frequently. We both love to travel, so here we are."

"My partner here decided we should take this major road trip in December. I think we're going to hit some rocky weather myself."

"Yeah, but you can't go home for the holidays in July," Starsky protested.

"Where are you from originally?" Samantha took aim at a rock formation and fired her camera.

"New York."

"Duluth."

"L.A. does bring some interesting combinations together, doesn't it? I mean, what are the chances of some guy in New York ending up friends with some guy in Duluth?" Samantha handed her camera to Starsky. "I need a couple donkey-joke photos."

"Donkey-joke photos?" he asked, focusing the camera on her.

"Yes--you know, 'this is Samantha, sitting on her ass in the Grand Canyon'. Or, 'when I was in the Grand Canyon, I let this really cute guy take pictures of my--' well, you get the drift."

"Did ya hear that, Hutch? I'm really cute. Remember that one, Mr. Lady's Man."

"Just shut up and take the lady's picture, will ya?" Hutch looked over at Janine and laughed.

The afternoon drew to a close near four, when the group returned their animals to the visitor center and made their way back to the parking lot.

"Anybody but me hungry?" Starsky asked.

"Starving," Janine responded, with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"Well, I think there's a hot dog stand or something around here," Hutch started scanning the terrain. "Where are you girls staying?"

"The new lodge they just finished building--you have to drive through Petrified Forest National Park."

"That's where we're staying, too," Hutch volunteered, which Starsky considered a pretty smooth move, since they were really planning to stay at a cheap motel a few miles away. Hopefully this new lodge wouldn't be booked solid.

"There are some great shots of the Painted Desert--I guess normal people would call them 'views'--from the road that leads up there. The lodge also has a dynamite restaurant."

"Have either of you been to the Navajo reservation?" Hutch asked.

"We went yesterday. Is that where you guys are headed next?" Janine asked.

"They have Indian souvenirs in New Mexico, too. We'll be passing through there tomorrow, so it isn't urgent. Right now I want something to eat."

"Me, too," Janine chimed in with Starsky.

"I guess we should take that drive toward the lodge then," Hutch concluded.

Despite their professed hunger, neither Starsky nor Janine grumbled at spending a considerable amount of time taking in the view of the desert from the road to the lodge. Samantha and Starsky snapped their photos, and finally concluded they needed to exchange addresses so they could mail the results back and forth. Janine and Hutch preferred to stroll along the road and get to know each other better while their more effusive counterparts captured the scenery on film. Not since Gillian had Hutch clicked so immediately with a woman, and he planned to use every possible moment to make a lasting impression so they could stay in touch after parting company.

Janine was a health-food enthusiast who made many of her own recipes, practiced meditation on a regular basis and liked to sing, though she claimed to be 'kind of lousy at it'. She hoped to teach music and art to grade school children. Her quiet, subtle personality and friendly, open nature were a pleasant change of pace from the usual game-playing that seemed to accompany first dates. Is that what this was? Hutch wondered. Maybe this trip was fate...

"So, is there a Mrs. Starsky back home?" Samantha asked.

"There almost was," Starsky answered almost involuntarily. Why did he feel the need to bring Terry into this conversation? Maybe because liking Samantha this much felt like cheating on her.

"Is that my cue to ask something else or mind my own business?" Her tone was good-natured, but this was not a woman who minced words.

"My fiancee was killed about nine months ago in LA. This lunatic who was after me shot her. She had a bullet lodged in her brain, and it was inoperable. She only lived about a week or so after it happened."

"Oh, my God. Dave, I'm so sorry."

"Well, we packed a lot of living into that week, anyway." Starsky sighed. "I didn't mean to be such a downer."

"You have a right to be a little down over something like that."

"How about you? Is there a Mr. Samantha in Phoenix?"

"No," she laughed. "I've been dating this guy off-and-on for a couple years, but we aren't exclusive, and it doesn't seem to be going in any specific direction. Maybe I don't want it to, I don't know."

"Well, I think I've photographed every rock visible from here. Should we head for the lodge?" Starsky asked.

"If we can get those two to quit batting their eyelashes at each other long enough to eat," Samantha added with a smirk, nodding to Hutch and Janine, who stood almost nose to nose, talking and giggling back and forth.

"Okay, kids, time to eat!" Starsky bellowed, and the other couple started a little, then fell into step with Starsky and Samantha.

Fortunately for the guys, there were a few vacancies at the lodge. They signed in and parted company with the girls so everyone could change and freshen up for dinner. Upon learning there was a disco on the premises, no member of the foursome was about to launch into the nightlife looking like a tourist and smelling like a donkey.

"You know, Starsk, this trip might not have been such a bad idea after all," Hutch checked out his reflection in the mirror. The tan sportcoat set off his coloring perfectly, and he was more than mildly satisfied with his look.

"I see you and Janine are kind of joined at the nose. Every time we looked at you two, I don't think your faces were more than an inch apart." Starsky pulled on the jacket that was the final piece of his light suit. He had the Saturday Night Fever look down pat.

"You didn't seem to be too miserable over there with Samantha."

"She's a neat lady. Are we ready to go?" He turned toward Hutch.

"As we'll ever be." Hutch led the way out the door and downstairs. They passed through the rustic lobby, complete with fireplace and a wall made of logs. Down a wide hallway, past the reception desk, the rustic image ended. The pulse of the disco beat filled the room, flashing lights set the atmosphere, and a large mirrored ball suspended from the ceiling cast its reflections throughout the room. Samantha waved to them from the bar, where she and Janine were sipping their wine.

"This is kinda embarrassing--they got ready before we did," Starsky commented under his breath.

"Hey, it isn't easy to be this beautiful, Starsk." Hutch elbowed his partner with a chuckle.

"You guys look great," Samantha sprang from her barstool and greeted Starsky with a kiss on the cheek. Dressed in a bright red dress and red strappy shoes, topped off with her mane of red hair, Samantha reminded Starsky of a flame. In shorts and an old shirt, she had been pretty. In this outfit, she was stunning.

"You look...amazing," Starsky commented, stepping back. Hutch ordered a couple of beers for them and took up residence on the barstool next to Janine, who was dressed in a dark blue dress and silver heels. Her long blonde hair was pulled on top of her head, and little ringlets framed her face.

"And you," Hutch turned to Janine, "are a thing of beauty. And a thing of beauty is a joy forever," he concluded, kissing her hand. Starsky and Samantha rolled their eyes at each other.

"Should we find a table? They serve great burgers here," Samantha craned her neck to see beyond the dance floor to the tables, which were located on a portion of the floor elevated above the dance floor, surrounded by a gold railing.

"I'm starved. Let's go," Starsky responded.

After finishing dinner and taking some time to visit and relax for a while, the dancing bug finally overtook Starsky and Samantha, who headed for the dance floor. Janine and Hutch followed on the next song, the slow and romantic "I Like Dreamin'". Holding Janine close and swaying to the music, Hutch stole a glance over her shoulder to see his partner doing the same with Samantha. And then Starsky suddenly stepped back, said something to his date, and hurried out of the room. Hutch stopped his movement, and Janine looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

"Janine, would you excuse me just a minute?"

"Sure. Is anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure." He started across the dance floor and paused when he met Samantha. "What's with Starsky?"

"He just said he was sorry, and that he couldn't do this yet, and then he took off. Ken, I know about his fiancee. Look, just tell him it's okay, and to give me a call anytime he'd like a friend."

"Thanks, Samantha. I know he likes you, but..."

"No explanations necessary. Go see if he's okay. Janine and I'll be fine."

Hutch followed her instructions, and when he didn't see Starsky in the lobby, continued upstairs to their room. Starsky had tossed his jacket on a chair and was lying on his bed with his back to the door.

"Starsk? Are you okay?" Hutch stood at the foot of the bed. Starsky sat up and sniffed loudly.

"Why don't you go keep the girls company? I just don't feel too great."

"The girls are okay for now, and you're lying." Hutch sat next to him on the side of the bed. "You wanna try telling me the truth?"

"I don't know how to explain it myself," he looked at Hutch through puffy eyes. "I really like Samantha. I guess after losing Terry...nothing seems to fit right. First there was Helen, then Terry... and then Rosey, and for the first time since Terry died I really felt something again...and then she left. I know it sounds crazy but I guess I'm just not ready to go through that for the fourth time. I mean, Terry didn't leave me by choice. But the first person I really trusted after her was Rosey, and I know that whole mess was a mistake from the get-go, but I thought she loved me. Maybe she did, but not enough to stay with me. Ultimately it's like Terry was still the only one that was really right. Then tonight, for a few minutes it felt really good with Samantha, and then all of a sudden it was like it just made me miss Terry that much more, and I thought about what it felt like to watch Rosey walk away, and I couldn't get away from her fast enough. Maybe I never got over Terry...I know I didn't. I still miss her so much I feel like there's a knife right in my chest."

"Nobody ever promised grief would be logical," Hutch commented, putting an arm around his partner's shoulders.

"Maybe it's just that stupid song. I heard it the first time about a month after Terry...I was on my way to pick you up to go to work, and it just voiced everything I was going through--dreaming about her, reaching out and she's not there anymore--and the future I can picture us having that we lost--you know, the whole 'I see us with our children and our happy home' part? It's a beautiful song but every time I hear it, it takes me right back to feeling like I did when she first died. That one day, I had to pull off the road and just sit there and cry like an idiot. I think I was about a half hour late picking you up."

"Yeah, and you tried to tell me you looked like hell because you had developed allergies."

"Well, I couldn't very well tell you the truth, could I?" he responded with a weak chuckle.

"You can always tell me the truth, dummy. Besides, I know anyway, so you might as well not put so much energy into trying to fool me."

"I guess it's just that it still hurts so much. I meet somebody like Samantha, somebody I could really like, and I'm not me anymore. Do you think I'm ever gonna get over this, Hutch?"

"If you mean do I think you're gonna forget Terry, no, I don't. If you mean do I think you're going to reach a point where you can fall in love with someone else and not be miserable, yes, I do. It hasn't even been a year, Starsk. Give yourself some time." Hutch tightened his hold momentarily. "Hang in there. It isn't going to hurt like this forever. Eventually you're going to run into another 'right person', and she isn't going to walk out on you."

"Promise?" Starsky tried to force a smile with the question.

"I promise." They sat there silently for a few moments, then Hutch moved away a little. "We abandoned two really gorgeous women downstairs. Think you're up to going back?"

Starsky stood up and walked to the window. "You go ahead. I'll be okay now."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm sure." He turned back to face Hutch and sat against the window sill. "Thanks for checking up on me." He smiled slightly. "Hutch, I really will be okay. I'm not going to jump out the window and end it all."

"Out of a second floor window? That risk isn't really worrying me too much." Hutch stood up and moved toward the door. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I am now."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Samantha said to tell you it's okay, not to worry about anything, and to call her up if you ever need a friend. I think she really likes you, buddy."

"Tell her I'm sorry--and I will call her when I get my head together."

"In that case, I'll tell her not to wait by the phone," Hutch said with a snicker as he headed for the door. He felt less concerned about leaving when he heard Starsky chortle a little in response.

Samantha excused herself from the threesome after a short time, feigning a headache, leaving Janine and Hutch on their own, which neither seemed to mind. In fact, the evening continued on for quite a while on the back porch of the lodge, gazing at the stars, far from the noise and confusion of the disco inside.

"You told me you liked to sing," Janine prodded. "How about a little sample of your talents?"

"My musical talents?"

"You're bad," she playfully hit him on the arm. "Yes."

"My guitar's in the car. Sit tight." He hurried around the lodge and through the parking lot to the Torino. Relieved he had his set of keys, he unlocked the car and fished out his guitar. Janine looked beautiful in the bluish white light of the moon. And she had a beautiful heart. She was so full of enthusiasm and kindness and creativity. The perfect woman...and she lived in Phoenix. And this is why God made airplanes, Hutch thought to himself with a grin.

Samantha hesitated, then tapped on the door. She had to see Dave one last time before the guys got their early start for New Mexico in the morning. After a few minutes, the door opened, and he stood before her in his bathrobe.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in bed already."

"I'm not. I'm just kind of lying around. Come in." He stepped back while she came inside and closed the door behind her. "I'm really sorry about earlier."

"That's okay. I can go to a disco anytime. Look, Dave, I just wanted to tell you in person how much fun I've had today, and that I really think of you as a good friend. I don't want you to not ever call me again because you think it has to be something more involved than that. If it turned out that way someday, that would be okay too, but you can never have too many friends."

"You're an incredible lady, Samantha. By the way, have a seat." He picked up his sportcoat off the one overstuffed chair in the room and when she was seated, sat opposite her on the foot of the bed. "I really had a good time today, and for the first time since Terry...died, I really felt something. I'm just not ready to handle all that again." Starsky refrained from mentioning Rosey. After the initial pain of losing her, he had developed a real anger at her choice of loyalties...at her walking away from him and a life with him on the right side of the law to go into hiding with her gangster father. Damn those mob bosses and what they've taken away from me, he thought to himself. But none of that should matter to Samantha, and there was no point in telling her the miserable story of his life.

"I'm not so insecure that it bothers me that you loved someone else that much before. It just means you're capable of giving so much of yourself to another person, that when you lose that person, it takes a long time to heal. There aren't too many guys out there with that problem. Most of them are so damn selfish they couldn't invest enough in a relationship to mourn it for long."

"I don't know if I deserve any special praise for being miserable, but I appreciate the kind words."

"Look, Dave, I know that Janine is going to use up most of her life's savings keeping in touch with your partner, which means she's going to want to drag me to LA every chance she gets because she hates to travel alone."

"So you mean we're going to be stuck being friends whether we want to or not?"

"That's about the size of it. Because I think that you and Ken are sort of a package deal, too. Janine and I are like sisters, and we do everything together. So I guess we'll have to get along."

"It'll be tough, but I'll force myself." Starsky smiled, relaxing a little.

"I'm going to turn in. Hopefully Janine can pry herself away before too much longer, or you're going to have to do all the driving tomorrow while Romeo sleeps." She headed for the door and Starsky sprang to his feet to reach it before she did.

"Samantha, I'm really glad we met today."

"Me too. Take care of yourself, Dave. And remember one thing: you're a very sensitive person, and I'm sure that you made Terry very happy. Don't ever wonder about that."

"Thanks, pal," he embraced her, and she returned it tightly.

"Call me--and don't forget to send me your pictures. We still have a contest running, remember?"

"I won't forget--any of it."

"Me either," she smiled and slipped out the door.

Hutch spent the better part of an hour serenading Janine in the moonlight, and finally coaxing her to sing along with him. Seeing this evening end would not be easy. And it didn't end until almost two in the morning. Upon delivering her to her door, he inclined slightly toward her, and she gladly accepted the overture. They exchanged a prolonged good night kiss before Janine fumbled for her keys a little nervously. An old fashioned girl--that was a little refreshing, if not a little frustrating.

"I'll call you on each one of our stops--and describe all the sights worth seeing."

"You do that. I'm going to miss you."

"Phoenix isn't China, you know. We'll be seeing each other again--I promise."

"Good. Drive safely, huh?"

"We will. Goodnight, Janine."

"Goodnight, Ken." She smiled and held his gaze for a moment before quietly letting herself into her room.

The alarm shattered the golden silence of sleep. Starsky took a swing at it but missed. Hutch made a direct hit which not only ended the ringing but knocked the clock under Starsky's bed.

"Good shot," Starsky grumbled and rolled over.

"I suppose if we don't get up now, we'll miss out on all sorts of enriching experiences in New Mexico," Hutch murmured into his pillow.

"I'll drive 100 miles an hour all the way there if you'll just shut up and let me sleep." Starsky pulled a pillow over his head. Hutch was moving around. Mr. Early Bird. Where's a cat when you need one, Starsky thought with an evil grin.

"You've got a couple spots marked on your itinerary that sell Indian pottery and various other souvenirs, and you also noted here what a wonderful experience it would be for us to see the Aztec Ruins National Park and the Taos Indian Reservation."

"The ruins have been there a thousand years. They'll be there an hour or two later."

"Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to rise and shine."

"I don't get this," Starsky came out from under his pillow and sat up in the bed. "You get three hours of sleep and you're all up and bouncy and perky. I've been in the sack since midnight and I feel like crap this morning."

"It's my diet. I told you to start watching what you eat, but do you listen to me?" Hutch grabbed a towel. "I'm going to shower and get dressed." Hutch went into the bathroom and the shower started. Showering and dressing--at least a ten minute reprieve, especially if he threw shaving in there, which he probably would.

By six-thirty, the Torino was gassed up and back on the road toward New Mexico. Driving itself had already lost its novelty, so Hutch pulled his guitar up front and started strumming along, arguing with his partner about what they ought to sing. Both despised the concept of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall" or "Row, Row, Row Your Boat", so Hutch finally wracked the musical portion of his brain and came up with "This Land is Your Land", which was so appropriate that it even shook Starsky out of his drowsy early morning slump.

"You know any Christmas songs? I mean this is a holiday vacation," Starsky prodded.

"'White Christmas'? We'll be doing more than dreaming about it in a couple days."

"Hit it," Starsky responded, fumbling under the seat for something.

"Will you watch where you're going?" Hutch reached over and yanked the wheel toward him, pulling the car out of the wrong lane and the path of an irate motorist.

"I wouldn'ta hit him," Starsky grumbled, producing a small Santa Claus on a red ribbon from under the seat. "This fell off the rearview mirror. Tie it back on there, will ya? It'll make things official."

"You're one strange Jewish guy, Starsk." Hutch tied the dangling St. Nick in place and settled back in the seat. Before beginning the Christmas song, he continued, "I didn't think Jewish people celebrated Christmas. Never could figure out how you got away with that one."

"My family cheats. That way we get more presents and two holidays in December." Starsky cackled a little wickedly. "Seriously," he continued, his smile fading a little, "my aunt was Catholic, so even though my uncle--my dad's brother--was Jewish, my aunt loved Christmas, and she celebrated it to the hilt. So once I moved to LA, I got into the whole Christmas season thing with her, even though I didn't convert."

"Knowing how you like presents, I'm not surprised you figured out a way to stretch the issue." Hutch laughed a little as he tuned a couple strings on his guitar.

"Guilty as charged," Starsky returned the smile, but then became serious. "It's more than that though. It's about family, friends--and it's one of the few times of the year people actually treat each other better. There's a lot of love and giving and family gatherings. I just like it, I guess. And where my aunt was concerned, you could get in the spirit or move out!" he concluded with a laugh. "So how about a little of that Christmas music now?"

They passed most of the morning driving with their sing along. Starsky seemed happy to stay behind the wheel for the nearly six-hour drive, letting Hutch handle the musical accompaniment. Though there was some scenery of interest to both of them, the majority of the drive was uneventful

until they approached the area of the Aztec Ruins National Park, and began to spot a few sources of souvenirs. Near noon, Starsky pulled over at a fast food restaurant, fearing it would be the last one they would encounter for a while.

"I think rigor mortis just set into my back," Starsky complained, stretching as he got out of the car.

"Probably nothing a plane ticket to New York City wouldn't cure." Hutch stashed his guitar in the backseat. "It's feeling a little cooler here."

"The farther east, and then north, we go..." Starsky let his voice trail off. He caught hold of Hutch's arm. "Look inside."

There was a tall man standing behind a young woman with dark hair. He had his arm around her neck and a gun at her head.

"We better get back to the car for the guns." Hutch turned to walk back quickly and Starsky followed him. "We should probably just call the local cops. We're out of our jurisdiction here."

"Yeah, and if that nut blows somebody's head off while we're on the phone, we're going to feel kinda responsible." Starsky checked his Beretta's ammo.

"So what's the plan?" Hutch leaned on the roof of the car, looking across the top at Starsky.

"One of us goes in front, plays the dumb tourist while one goes around to look for a back entrance?"

"And play it by ear?"

"Pretty much. I'll be the front man." Starsky tucked the gun in the waistband of his jeans and put his leather jacket on to conceal it.

"What if he shoots you when you walk in?"

"Then we'll know it was a lousy idea. I don't think he'll do that, though. He's got a hostage."

"Okay. How long do you want before I come in?"

"Just a couple minutes. We're working on distracting him, and I can only keep him interested for so long."

"Watch yourself."

"Always do," Starsky responded with a hint of a grin. Hutch watched him stride confidently toward the restaurant. Hutch ducked behind the parked cars and hurried to the back of the building to look for an entrance.

Starsky swung open the front door and walked up to the front counter to place an order, not paying any attention to the gunman until he pretended to be surprised by the unresponsiveness of the girl at the cash register. He turned to look at the man who held the woman tightly in his grip.

"Hey, man, I'm just here to eat. I don't want any trouble," Starsky raised his hands in the air.

"Yeah? Well, you got some, amigo," the gunman responded. He was an Hispanic male, about thirty. The woman looked to be approximately the same age, also Hispanic. "Get over there with the others," he directed, waving the gun toward a group of terrified diners huddled in the eating area of the restaurant. Starsky complied silently, sitting in a chair at the end of a table where a family was seated. There had to be at least fifteen kids in that restaurant all together, Starsky thought grimly. No way to protect 'em all, no matter how well this plan might work.

"What's up with you? There's not that much here to steal, man," Starsky prodded.

"Ask the slut!" He shook the woman in his grip. "Filthy brujerita!"

"Hey, that's no way to talk to a lady, pal," Starsky retorted.

"This ain't no lady, man. Somebody in here's been meetin' her. All I want's her lover. All she gotta do is point, and everybody goes home but him."

"Manuel, please don't!" She sobbed and tugged at his arm, but he only tightened his grip on her throat.

"Maybe you want I should kill this guy?" He brandished the gun in Starsky's direction. "Or maybe this little kid?" He pointed the weapon at the little girl who sat next to Starsky. As almost a reflex action, Starsky stood up and stepped in front of her. The child's mother let out a strangled sob, but was held down by her husband. "Okay, baby, this is what you want. I'm startin' to kill one of these people for every minute you don't tell me who you been with!" he bellowed. He pointed the gun at Starsky, who maintained his post in front of as many of the children at the table as had managed to get behind him.

"Let her go, it was me," Hutch made his entrance from the back. The gunman whirled around to fire at him, but Starsky was ready for the lapse in his concentration and the clear shot at his back. He drew his weapon and fired, hitting the gunman in the shoulder and as he spun, in the hand that held the gun, which flew out of his wounded hand. The young woman went sprawling to the floor unharmed in one direction while her wild-eyed boyfriend flew forward in the other.

Hutch ordered one of the girls behind the counter to call an ambulance and the local police while Starsky helped the woman to stand. She was shaken but otherwise unharmed. Her boyfriend still moaned and cursed in a variety of languages from the floor where he had rolled on to one side and was cradling his wounded hand. Hutch gathered up the extra weapon, using a napkin to preserve the criminal's prints, and tucked it in his belt.

"Nice work, partner," Hutch said as he approached Starsky and the woman, who was seated at a table with a glass of water offered by one of the other customers. "Who's he?" he asked her.

"My boyfriend, Manuel Martinez. I was going to break up with him, because I met somebody else, and he found out, and he must've followed me here. Thank you both."

"Is there someone we can call for you? You'll have to wait and talk to the police, but someone who could wait with you?" Starsky asked.

"My mother." She wrote the number shakily on a napkin with a pen Starsky handed her. One of the waitresses volunteered to make the call.

Upon showing their credentials to the local police, the travelers were only held up a very short time from returning to their vacation. Once they had given statements and a couple of phone numbers where they could be reached in the event of a court trial, they were free to go.

"Somehow I didn't feel like staying there for lunch," Hutch commented with a slight smile as they got back in the Torino.

"I'm sure they'll have a hot dog stand or something in the park. You know I didn't think I'd have to carry this thing around on vacation." Starsky took out his gun and looked it over.

"Well, so much for escaping the loonies in the city."

"Yeah. Well, at least we can drive away from this looney and let someone else do the report." Starsky started up the engine. They were two hours delayed on their trip, and as they hoped to make it at least into Oklahoma before staying over again, they had to make their stop at the Aztec Ruins fairly time-efficient. Having viewed some Indian ruins at the Grand Canyon, they settled for stopping at a little mission that sold numerous Indian goods and loaded up on souvenirs, some of which would also serve as Hanukkah and Christmas gifts at their destinations.

"You and your table cloths," Starsky teased Hutch as he tried on a poncho.

"This is a poncho, Starsky."

"The last time you gave it some other goofy name."

"Serape."

"Whatever. It still looks like a table cloth with a hole in the middle for your head to stick out."

"And you look so much more sophisticated in that hat."

"This hat is a sombrero, amigo. I thought I'd hang it on my wall at home. Hey, do you think your mother would like this?" He held up a hand made throw displaying a range of soft southwestern colors.

"You're getting something for my mother? I don't have anything for your mother."

"So pick something out."

"Pottery?" Hutch pulled an attractive, brightly colored vase off one of the tables.

"I think she'd love it. Hey, we better get a move on if we're gonna eat and make Oklahoma before stopping again." Starsky headed toward the table where an elderly woman was collecting money from shoppers. Arms loaded with pottery, jewelry and other accessories, they made their way to the car and set about the task of finding places to tuck their new purchases among the luggage.

Dinner wound up being a couple of burgers and fries at a take-out restaurant on the way out of New Mexico. Eating in the car wasn't what they had envisioned, but it was getting cooler as night fell, and eating outside was the only other alternative at the drive-in where they stopped.

"Don't drop anything on your dress," Starsky goaded Hutch about the poncho he was wearing to dispel the coolness of dusk.

"I swear, Starsky, you have no sense of culture."

"Who planned this trip?"

"You did, but I--"

"And who picked out the stops?"

"You did, but--"

"So haven't you gotten your fill of local color in the last couple days?" Starsky bit into his hamburger again and chased it with a slurp out of his drink.

"Okay, all right, you have a sense of culture."

"Thank you."

"That was a close one back there at that restaurant." Hutch hadn't brought it up again until then, and Starsky hadn't wanted to dwell on it. They risked their lives on a fairly regular basis at work, but this was supposed to be a vacation, and somehow it had hit harder in this context.

"I kinda thought I was gonna buy the farm when he aimed at that little kid. The scary part is that I think he woulda shot her."

"I feel sure he would have. And he wouldn't have hesitated to shoot you first to get to her."

"I know that. But you know, I couldn't just sit there and let him kill a little kid right next to me. Better me than her. I'm just glad you didn't get your head blown off pretending to be that woman's lover. Unless of course you have a little something going I didn't know about."

"Well, I didn't want to brag, but it doesn't take long for me to strike something up in a new town." Hutch snickered a little and took another drink of pop.

"Thought anymore about Janine?"

"Thought anymore about Samantha?"

"I asked first."

"Yeah, quite a bit."

"Me too. About Samantha, I mean." Starsky leaned back in the seat. "Our first stop might have been our best."

"So it's all downhill from here?"

"Well, we've met two great women, been involved in a shootout, and picked up a bunch of cool souvenirs. If we went home now, most people couldn't top our stories."

"But you're not interested in doing that?" Hutch asked.

"Hey, if we did all that in the first couple days, think what could happen by the time we really get home?"

The drive from New Mexico to Oklahoma was a long, tiring and uneventful one. Starsky relinquished the driving duties to Hutch for the second leg of the journey, which stretched into the small hours of the morning. There was something incredibly peaceful about the last few hours of that drive for Hutch. Starsky had dozed off somewhere after eleven, and the only sounds were the consistent rumbling of the engine, the low drone of the radio and Starsky's even breathing of deep sleep. Time to think...it was a rare commodity that the last couple of years hadn't really provided. Everything had been such a high-speed blur that it was hard sometimes to remember everything that had happened, and even more impossible to put it in perspective. Strange how a brush with death, like the one in the fast-food restaurant in New Mexico, could have such a profound and soul-stirring impact in this relaxed setting while several brushes with death over the last couple years had swirled into a big blob of tension that never had time to release.

He glanced at Starsky. Maybe he didn't give his partner credit for being as insightful as he was at times. This trip was like an oxygen mask to a dying man...a chance to breathe easy for a change. It was also a time to confront a lot of pushed-aside feelings, which to Hutch seemed like the downside. Frightening memories of the helplessness and desperation of being trapped inside a heroin addict's body, grief over losing Gillian, the horror of watching Starsky die a slow and tortured death from a poison eating its way through his system...thank God they'd stopped it in time, he thought, glancing away from the road at Starsky again. After Terry died, Starsky had said that at least no matter how rotten things went in either of their lives, at least they each could count on one thing--each other. How many rough spots had that pulled them out of lately? Plenty.

Hutch started humming along with the radio a little and thinking about going home again. Would seeing the rolling hills and country roads near the farm make him unhappy with his city lifestyle? Going home for any length of time was almost scary, because the first few years in LA had been such a hard adjustment. Not that it wasn't exciting and he didn't love it, but there was something about sitting on the big back porch and strumming on his guitar and looking out over the fields that was so peaceful and so perfect that going back to his cramped apartment and the smog and dirt and depravity that too often characterized his new home was a whole new culture shock all over again. Man, I'm gonna nail you in one hell of a snowball fight when we get to the farm, Hutch thought with a snicker as Starsky shifted in the seat and started snoring a little. But then, having grown up in New York, his partner was probably a veteran snowball warrior.

What would going home mean to Starsky? He seemed so anxious and vehement about doing it, and yet what would it be like? Home had been a hard place for Dave Starsky. His father's shooting when he was just a kid, just a couple blocks from their house, his mother playing footsy with Joe Durniak...and a gangster paying for a cop's funeral. And it hadn't ended with Durniak's death. Starsky had admitted, acting ashamed as if he himself were consorting with the mob, that his mother was maintaining a close friendship with Tommy Goretti, Durniak's second in command. Starsky had never elaborated on the nature of his mother's sudden friendship Durniak, nor did he describe her connection with Goretti, but it was obvious that both were a source of unhappiness and embarrassment to him. Was Durniak just being a supportive friend at the time of Starsky's father's death, or was he covering his tracks for killing him, or did he really respect the fallen cop and resent his murder by a rival crime family? Starsky himself didn't seem sure what to believe, but then he was only a little kid at the time it all happened. What could he know? And a cop's murder left to fester for over twenty years, unsolved, no shooter in jail. Could the NYPD be that blase about the shooting of one of their own, or was the case so volatile that they buried it in a file drawer and tried to forget it? These night time questions...where could they possibly lead? Nowhere useful, Hutch thought.

And what would life have been like with Gillian if she had lived? There was a horrible question that Hutch had been able to squelch under a pile of cases and crises that had kept both of them on the run since she died. But now, here he was, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, Starsky asleep, no distractions...and there was Gillian and that nagging question.

Could he have ever gotten past her past? Would he have always pictured her with other men, doing what she had done best for the last several years? The grief had been so overwhelming when he had seen her dead on the floor of her apartment...so overwhelming he had actually wanted to "kill the messenger" as they say, when Starsky explained what she really did for a living. Geez, partner, I guess I did deck you for that one, didn't I? What for? Gillian was the one who betrayed me, he thought a little bitterly. And there it was. That underlying anger and betrayal that made her death so different for him than Terry's was for Starsky. Not less painful, but different...there were two reasons to be miserable: not only had the love of his life wound up murdered, but she hadn't really been the woman she pretended to be. She was someone totally different. So maybe he was mourning a woman who never existed...and yet, what they felt had been so real...it had to be. Even Starsky had said that it was her love for Hutch that was making her face off against Grossman to get out of her old line of work. She died for our love, then. Somehow he had spiraled into a line of thinking that made him feel worse, not better. Think about something else. It was more of a challenge out here on the road to get rid of night demons than it was when there was always another case file handy to exercise his brain.

"Hey, sleepy head." He poked Starsky. There was no reason to wake him up yet, but Hutch needed a diversion, and Starsky would have to be it. If he knew the real reason, he wouldn't mind. Not that Hutch planned on telling him.

"What?" Starsky started a little in the seat and then straightened up. "Are we there yet?"

"Why do I suddenly feel like my father driving the family on vacation?" Hutch snickered. "No, we're not there yet. Will be in about an hour or so, I think."

"Something wrong?" Starsky blinked a few times to come to. He was really out of it, Hutch thought a little guiltily.

"I got bored. I didn't want to risk dozing off," Hutch lied.

"Oh. Well, I guess I have to do something interesting then to keep you entertained, huh?" Starsky was quiet a moment. "I could drive the rest of the way if you want. I'm conscious now," he finished with a smile.

"Nah, that's okay." Hutch turned off the radio. "How 'bout dazzling me with your musical talents?"

"You never like to admit I have any. You must be real desperate for something to do." Starsky leaned over the front seat and fumbled around until he disentangled his guitar and pulled it up front, almost smacking Hutch in the head with it.

"That woke me up," Hutch returned to a straight position after ducking to miss the oncoming instrument.

"Sorry." Starsky was quiet a minute while he thought about what to play.

"Something upbeat. I'm going to fall right across the wheel if it's a slow one." Just don't play a love song or something deep and introspective, Hutch thought. As the first notes of a Jim Croce song, "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" emanated from Starsky's guitar, Hutch smiled. Knew I could count on you, Starsk. A Jim Croce wannabe, Starsky knew every one of his songs by heart, and he wasn't too bad at it either, though Hutch was loath to admit that to him. But the upbeat spirit of the song had Hutch singing along with the refrain before long, and the last hour of the trip progressed quickly, the oppressive darkness in the corners of his mind lit up by this diversion. Lit up by his irrepressibly energetic partner. Thanks, Starsk, he thought with a grin.

Tulsa, Oklahoma. All it represented at that moment was a chance to stop the car. Hutch pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn and parked the Torino near the building. It was almost three in the morning, and if they wanted to get to Tennessee in time to have any fun, they'd need to get a reasonably early start.

"Kinda makes you wonder if it's worth paying out for a hotel room for a few hours, doesn't it?" Hutch turned off the engine.

"Let's see. A real bed, a shower, room service for breakfast..."

"Okay, point made." Hutch got out of the car and grabbed his duffle back out of the trunk and tossed Starsky's to him. After checking in at the desk, they made their way back to their room. Starsky pulled off his jacket and crawled on top of his bed and moaned in relief. Within moments, he had resumed the nap he had been shaken out of on the road.

Hutch took the time to turn back his bed and get out of his clothes before falling into bed for a brief sleep.

In a remarkable role reversal, it was Starsky who was awake at seven the next morning, shaking his partner insistently. Since they had both neglected to set an alarm, that meant his inner clock was actually capable of functioning before ten.

"Does the phrase 'welcome to the Grand Old Opry' mean anything to you?" he asked Hutch as one squinted blue eye looked out at him from under a droopy lid. "Come on, if we don't get moving, we're not gonna get there in time for the show tonight!"

"You're up early this morning," Hutch grumbled as he rolled over and sat up in bed.

"I just don't want to throw the schedule off too far, that's all. I'll drive us there today--you can just relax."

"You're dressed--but then I forgot you fell on the bed that way."

"I showered and shaved already. I'm way ahead of you. I'll call room service for breakfast while you get your act together."

"Order something that won't clog off my arteries by noon, will ya?" Hutch asked as he wandered through to the bathroom.

Starsky ignored his partner's directive and ordered eggs, bacon and hash browns for both of them. Despite his best mini-speech on the evils of cholesterol, it didn't take Hutch long to polish off his plate. The prospect of visiting the Grand Old Opry and staying at the posh Opryland Hotel was a nice thought, even if it was the off season, and some of the attractions would be closed.

Starsky had his heart set on taking a scenic route through Arkansas that would take them through the woods and past the Ozark Mountains. It was apparent that he was itching to start taking pictures again, since all he had managed to capture on film in New Mexico was a couple shots of the mission where they had bought the souvenirs, and the front of the Tulsa Holiday Inn from Oklahoma. Well, at least no state went entirely undocumented. Hutch couldn't complain that he wasted much time on this pursuit, however, because he would jump out of the car, quickly snap a few photos and then hop back in and keep going.

Absent most foliage, there was little of interest to be seen by driving through the woods. The temperature outdoors was in the fifties for most of their trip, but once they left the relative mildness of Tennessee's climate and entered Pennsylvania, Mother Nature would take the gloves off.

Arriving in Nashville on Friday night had not been any accident in Starsky's travel plans. He figured that if they were going to plunge into the Nashville nightlife, the weekend would be the time to do it. Before going to the hotel, Starsky cruised around for a while, giving them a chance to scout out places they would hit on their two night "hillbilly blitz", as Starsky billed it.

The room was much more luxurious than anything they had stayed in so far, but then they had been watching out for their increasingly limited cash prior to this splurge in Nashville. This was the only stop where they had actually unpacked more than two or three things, and where they actually took their guitars inside with them.

"This ain't bad," Starsky closed the door as the bell boy left after carrying most of their luggage upstairs.

"This must've cost a fortune, Starsk."

"Ah, so what? Oh, incidentally, we better get ourselves together and go grab something to eat. Otherwise, we'll be late for this." He handed Hutch a pair of tickets.

"You got us tickets to a Hee-Haw taping? I thought you hated that show."

"I do, but when in Rome...hey, it might be funny. They're doing a special concert in the concert hall, so it isn't going to be all those bad hillbilly jokes--mostly music, they tell me."

"Who's 'they'?" Hutch was still in a slight state of shock at the amount of planning Starsky seemed to have put into this stop. He did know how to give one hell of a Hanukkah present.

"The lady I made the reservations with here. I asked her if there was anything good going on I could still get tickets to. She said that a customer had just canceled out their reservations and they had these tickets they wanted to unload, so I told her to hold them for me. Of course, I had to exert a great deal of personal charm--"

"And give her your credit card number."

"Yeah, that too," he responded with a snicker. "We ought to pick up some brochures in the lobby so we can decide what we're gonna do tomorrow. I got a few ideas out of the atlas and from the desk clerk, but if we've only got one day, we gotta make it count."

"You really get into this whole tourist thing, don't you?"

"I just think this trip is a once in a lifetime thing, you know? I mean, even if we did get to do something like this when we retire, who knows if we'll both still be here in another thirty years? I think we have to make the most of it."

"What's got you spooked about packing all this living into a month? Don't get me wrong--I'm having a great time so far. It just seems like you're trying to get a lifetime into a month."

"When somebody tells you you're gonna die in 24 hours, it puts things in a whole new light. That day, while we were chasing our tails around trying to catch Bellamy and the professor, even though we were busy and I felt lousy, I still had all this stuff playing itself out in my head that I wasn't going to get to do, and all the places I wasn't gonna see, and how much of my life I had wasted doing everything that everybody else wanted me to do and never really just getting in my car and following the road wherever it led. My dad lived like that--working long, erratic hours like we do, taking every second of overtime he could handle to keep us going, and he never got to go anywhere and he was dead in the street with a bullet in his head at 43 years old. So I said to myself that one of these fine days, Hutch and I ought to just take off down the road and go on a vacation--see all sorts of interesting places, meet some different people...then last month you got sick, and I thought you were gonna die before we could drag Callendar in to get the antitoxin. And I thought, here you go again, Dave--you let life get away from you. I didn't make a commitment to Terry right away, because the whole marriage thing makes me skittish. And by the time I knew what I wanted, I couldn't have it. Watching you dying in that oxygen tent, I thought I'd messed up again. Then everything turned out okay, and I just snapped. I decided I wasn't going to wait for the next near-death experience to teach me that there was just too much out there for us not to break free for a while and enjoy it. Over the last two years, we've both looked death square in the eye. And if it had won, our families wouldn't have seen us for years before it happened. That's not a nice thought either. So when I essentially begged Dobey for this time off, I promised myself if I got it, that we'd used every minute of it to the fullest."

"I guess I never thought all that through," Hutch responded quietly.

"You probably haven't had time." Starsky stood up from the seat he had taken on the end of his bed and looked at his watch. "And we aren't gonna have time to eat if we don't get a move on."

The concert was crowded, noisy and did include a number of bad hillbilly jokes, but Starsky's summation of "when in Rome" about covered it. It was the atmosphere and the enthusiasm of the crowd that made the concert most memorable. Hutch had some interest in country music, so he was more genuinely entertained by the performances than his partner, who was vowing to himself to find a good rock concert as soon as they arrived in New York. But this was a Nashville vacation, and it would never have been complete without at least one concert to attend.

After the show, they took off in the Torino to cruise some of the area clubs. They decided it might be a good idea to check out the one offering amateur night on Saturday, just to see what the atmosphere and crowd would be like.

It was a large building, with an exterior of rustic wood with a big wooden sign hanging from the overhang that read "Watering Trough". Inside, it was spacious, with a good-sized dance floor surrounded by dozens of tables for four, all covered in tablecloths of various country prints. The music was pumping through a powerful sound system, and waitresses dressed as saloon girls made their rounds from table to table with cocktails and snack foods ranging from french fries to pizza.

The guys found a table near the stage, where a sign promised a local band would be performing again at midnight.

"Hey, this is kind of a nice place," Starsky glanced around them. "You didn't happen to notice that table behind us and to the left, did you?"

"You mean the two brunettes and the blonde?"

"You did notice it."

"Three on two--whaddya think, Starsk?"

"The more the merrier. I think we oughta mosey on over there."

"I think we oughta send them some drinks first. See if they have big ugly boyfriends lurking around here somewhere." Hutch flagged down a waitress and told her to go to the girls' table and offer them a free round of drinks with his and Starsky's compliments. Both detectives watched with interest as the waitress approached the table and made the offer. The first brunette, a tall woman with long wavy hair that easily reached her waist, craned her neck to have a better look at their benefactors. The other girls turned around to join her. Finally, they nodded in agreement and sent the waitress back with a message.

"The ladies said they accept if they can buy you a round, and if you'll join them."

"Make it two beers, then," Starsky spoke up and stood, leading the way to the other table. "Good evening, ladies. I'm Dave Starsky, this is Ken Hutchinson. We're visiting from LA."

"Sit down, guys," the blonde spoke up. As they followed her suggestion, she introduced herself and the other two. "I'm Karen Moore, this is Lisa Hirsch," she indicated the long-haired brunette, "and this is Tania Davis." Tania was also a brunette, but her shorter hair was curly and barely brushed her shoulders. Everyone exchanged hellos, and the drinks were served.

"So what brings two guys from LA to Nashville?" Lisa asked.

"He's a singer. Amateur night," Starsky patted Hutch on the back, who shot him a black glare before trying to recover his winning smile for the ladies' benefit.

"Actually, we're on a holiday vacation, driving across country. This is just one of our stops."

"How exciting," Karen cut in. "Where've you been so far?"

"We toured the Grand Canyon, saw some Indian ruins--"

"A Holiday Inn in Tulsa," Starsky cut in, adding a little levity.

"And now we're here. Next stop is Pennsylvania. So, tell us about yourselves. Are you all Nashville ladies?" Hutch probed.

"Born and bred," Tania spoke up. "I'm a legal secretary. What do you guys do?"

"I guess you could say we're tied into the legal system too. We're detectives with the LAPD," Hutch responded.

"How about you two?" Starsky turned toward Lisa and Karen.

"I'm a boutique manager. We sell western accessories to gullible tourists," Karen smiled and poked Starsky on the arm.

"I work for a travel agency," Lisa added.

"So how does a travel agent, a legal secretary and a boutique manager wind up in one place?" Starsky asked.

"College. We all went to the University of Tennessee together. Lisa and Karen were from here originally, but I was from Kentucky. I love it here, so I stayed. Now tell us about your music, Ken."

"It's nothing, really."

"Oh, he's too modest. He's really terrific. You oughtta hear him. The hit of every police barbecue for the last six years running."

"Starsk, will you knock it off," Hutch tried to tone down the edge in his voice. Starsky was smirking at having gotten so effectively under his partner's skin so quickly. "I mean, just because you lead a couple sing-a-longs doesn't make you the next Johnny Cash." He shot another withering look in Starsky's direction. His partner was undaunted.

"Anybody here feel brave enough to teach me how to dance Nashville style?"

"Don't look at me," Hutch responded dryly, taking a sip of his beer.

"Don't worry, I wasn't."

"I'm up for it," Tania stood up, and she and Starsky made their way to the dance floor. It struck Hutch that his partner looked pretty idiotic out there fumbling his way through dancing to country music. Mr. Disco King goes down home, he thought. His number was up soon enough when Lisa asked him to dance. Karen said she would be happy to hold down the table and dance with whichever guy learned fastest when they got back.

The band took the stage on schedule at midnight, and played a country-rock style music for their 45 minute set. Some of the audience danced, while others ordered snacks and watched from their tables. In their opinions, having made fools of themselves long enough, the guys were relieved when the ladies were happy to order a pizza and watch from the sidelines.

"I think you'd be a real hit here," Starsky said to Hutch, with no trace of teasing in his voice.

"I don't know," Hutch was obviously embarrassed by the reference to his possible performance the following amateur night, but he had to admit, at least to himself, that this seemed like a good crowd for his style. They weren't all hard core country music fans, and his easy going style, that could have a little country flavor when he wanted it to, would be a good fit.

"I mean it. I think you're gonna win that contest tomorrow night." Starsky took another gulp of his beer and leaned back in his chair.

"Do you write your own music?" Tania asked. "Have you recorded anything?"

"I do a little songwriting--just for fun mostly."

"He's really good--you ladies will come back tomorrow night?" Starsky prodded. Hutch shifted nervously in his chair and shot him a withering look.

"We wouldn't miss it," Lisa spoke up. "Would we girls?" The other two shook their heads vehemently.

"I'm gonna get you for this one," Hutch whispered in Starsky's ear as the girls turned their attention to the band.

"What? I'm just trying to drum up a friendly audience, that's all." Starsky grinned a little wickedly.

And then he thought about dancing with Samantha. If she were here, we'd be out on that dance floor, making idiots of ourselves. I wonder what angle she'd have chosen for that shot of the front of the Opryland Hotel? he queried to himself. Lisa, Karen and Tania were nice girls. If they lived in LA, he might even be concerned to get their phone numbers...but there was no chemistry, no spark. That had made the evening more fun and less emotional, but it had made him regret the missed opportunity of spending more time with Samantha while they were in Arizona. A girl who could bat her eyelashes, dress up for him...do all those old fashioned things...and still compete with him and be his buddy. God, what a rare find that woman was...like another rare woman he had known not too long ago...And he had let the stupid paranoia he seemed to carry with him since Rosey left ruin their time together. Can you really live your life in fear of the people you love leaving you? How could you ever have any love in your life at all if you functioned that way? Maybe he really was going nuts. Maybe Rosey had been the last straw where women were concerned. Maybe it was the beer and depressing themes of lost love that seemed to permeate country music that was sending him in all these odd directions...

He took another bite of his cooling pizza and tried to turn his attention back to the evening at hand. There was no point in screwing up every attempt they made at a little nightlife. Maybe all this time to relax and think was a dangerous thing. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from all these repressed thoughts and memories. "Photographs and memories...all that I have are these, to remember you..." Jim Croce's words played through in his mind.

"Starsky?" Hutch's sharp tone shook him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Tania's talking to you, pal. Look alive," he said with a smile.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just drifted with the music for a minute," but not this music, he thought.

"Do you want to dance? It's a slow one--no stomping around, I promise," she said, grinning.

"Sure." He followed her to the dance floor and swayed to the music with her, but it did not seem to have any profound effect on him like it had with Samantha. Hutch was relieved to see the evening flowing without a hitch. After the way things went in Arizona, he was beginning to doubt his partner's capacity to have a good time. Those fears were dispelled as he watched Tania and Starsky break into a fast, if not awkward, dance pattern when the music picked up its tempo.

A tall man dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and a cowboy hat walked up behind Lisa and tapped her on the shoulder.

"I think you owe me a dance, Lis," he stated grimly. She looked instantly nervous.

"I'm with someone, Gavin," she stated firmly, linking her arm through Hutch's.

"I said, you owe me a dance and a hell of a lot more, baby. What the hell are you doin' out messin' around with pretty boy here?"

"Damn it, Gavin, I told you to leave me alone!"

"I think you're upsetting the lady, and I'd like you to leave," Hutch stated, standing.

"I bet you would like that, blondie. Why don't you make me?"

Tania felt Starsky's body tense and his movement cease. She turned to watch the scene he had noticed transpiring at the table. He moved away from the dance floor toward their table just as the discussion became loud and heated, and a swing from Gavin sent Hutch sprawling backwards onto the table behind him. Starsky walked up behind Gavin, as he was leaning over Hutch to launch another attack, tapped him on the shoulder, and decked him with a left to the jaw. Everything appeared under control until the other men at Gavin's table came forward. Two about his size, not looking at all friendly.

By now, Hutch had regained his equilibrium and awaited Gavin's retaliation, but Gavin leaped to his feet and rushed at Starsky, tackling him to the floor. Gavin's friends arrived and one grabbed Hutch to hold him while the other prepared to swing. Using the first man's hold on him for leverage, Hutch kicked his approaching attacker in the stomach with both feet and delivered a blow to the other man's ribs with his elbow, temporarily freeing himself. Gavin, for his part, sailed backwards into yet another table, courtesy of a rumpled and ragged Starsky, who despite a bloody nose and split lip had finally gotten the upper hand. Gavin appeared knocked out, and momentarily Starsky rushed over to join the dance going on between his partner and Gavin's friends. Hutch had sustained a couple of bruises but was dodging and punching pretty effectively. Starsky's arrival was a deciding moment in the fight, as Hutch had his hands full with one of the men as the other rose from the floor where he had been knocked down and was heading back for revenge. Starsky blocked his aggression, successfully dodged a right cross and managed a knock out punch.

And then the cops arrived. Hutch was still struggling with the final member of the trio, but managed to overpower him with much effort in time to hold up his badge for the incoming cops.

"What happened here?" The first officer picked his way through a maze of broken chairs and overturned tables.

"He started it all," the restaurant manager pointed out Gavin, who was staggering toward the scene with an angry look on his face.

"He was harassing this lady," Hutch spoke up, pointing to Lisa. "We were in a group together, so I asked him to leave her alone, and he wouldn't."

"But that guy threw the first punch," Starsky spoke up, mopping his nose on his sleeve. "I intervened after he attacked my partner and these other two goons popped out of the woodwork somewhere and turned it into a free-for-all."

"Did you identify yourself, Sergeant?" The oldest of the patrolmen handed Starsky back his ID.

"I didn't exactly have time to reach in my pocket while this guy over here was beating my face in. I also didn't want him getting his hands on this." He pulled back his vest to display the gun in its holster that only Tania had noticed was there while they were dancing. "If somebody here found one of us was armed, they might've thought it necessary to bring something more than fists into this, and then you'da probably had a couple dead bystanders to deal with.

"Are you interested in pressing charges?" One of the uniformed officers turned to the restaurant manager.

"Damn straight I will--against those three." He pointed to Gavin and his companions. "They hassled these folks and then started the fight."

"Okay. Here's what I think we oughtta do with this mess," the older officer began. "You guys all punched each other around, that's obvious. I don't think we're gonna serve any useful purpose trying to sort out assault charges. If you get your damages covered is that going to do the job for you?" he asked the manager.

"I s'pose."

"Pay the man, Gavin."

Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances as Gavin pulled an enormous bankroll out of his pocket and peeled off several large bills and handed them to the manager. They were even more amazed that assaulting a police officer wouldn't be worth the effort to pursue. Of course, pursuing it would mean a major hold up on the trip, and a dirtbag like Gavin wouldn't reform his wicked ways from one slap on the wrist, which probably wouldn't be a hard slap since he seemed to have cash to burn. The familiar tone used to him by the cops and their immediate willingness to let him pay his way out of trouble indicated a pattern that was not encouraging. Both LA detectives kept their mouths shut and let the situation be resolved according to the patrolman's suggestions.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?" Starsky asked, taking a napkin offered by Tania to hold under his nose, which didn't seem likely to stop bleeding.

"He came up to Lisa, started giving her a hard time. I told him to get lost, and you know the rest."

"I'm really sorry about all that, Ken. I didn't think he'd take it that far." Lisa joined the group, followed by Karen. "I went out with him a few times last year, and then I told him we were finished. He doesn't like to take no for an answer, but usually if he shows up and I'm with somebody, he makes a couple of snotty remarks and leaves. Of course, not all the guys I've been out with are gentlemen enough to stand up to him either."

"Let's find a quiet corner here and get you guys cleaned up." Tania rejoined them followed by a waitress carrying a tray with a bowl of water and several cloth napkins and a couple of glasses of ice.

They moved to a table in the back corner of the night club, as far as possible from the commotion of the personnel cleaning up the mess. Tania took up residence next to Starsky while Lisa fussed over Hutch with ice packed in one of the napkins for his eye, which was swelling as they watched.

"How's the nose?" Tania asked.

"Still going."

"Okay, keep the napkin right where it is and lean forward."

"Forward?"

"Trust me." She waited while he followed her directions. "Is it both sides?"

"Just one--the left."

"Okay, press your index finger firmly on the side of it, just under the bone, and hold it there about ten minutes. It should stop."

"Well, this has been a night to remember," Hutch mumbled as he borrowed a mirror from Karen to survey the damages. His right eye was the most noticeable, though a few other light bruises were appearing. He was most uncomfortable from a couple of blows to his stomach, but he didn't feel they had done more than bruise and wind him.

Starsky's biggest problem was his nose, though it was not broken. The left side of his mouth had swollen considerably by now, and Tania was holding ice on it while he kept the pressure on his nose.

"Let's check out that nose," Tania confirmed by her watch that the appropriate span of time had passed. Starsky sat straight and was pleasantly surprised to find her remedy had worked. He borrowed the much in-demand purse mirror and started washing off his face.

"I think we should go back to the hotel. We've had enough fun for one evening. You know, Lisa, you really ought to file a complaint against that lunatic before he does something to hurt you," Hutch advised.

"I think if I file any reports it'll just make matters worse. He's a pretty influential guy around here. I guess I was supposed to be impressed by that."

"Ken, if you can talk her into a complaint, please do it. I've been trying to tell her for months she better do something." Karen sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. "That nut's liable to come back and kill you one of these nights."

"Thanks, Karen. I really needed to have that spelled out for me."

"Listen, we'll follow you ladies home just in case Gavin is lurking around anywhere." Starsky stood up, signaling that he was finished with the ill-fated evening.

They followed each of the women to their apartments, and when they were satisfied each one was safely in for the night, they returned to the hotel, obtained a bottle of aspirin from the front desk clerk, and went up to their room.

"I feel like a freight train just ran over my head," Starsky groaned, stretching out on his bed.

"How's the nose?"

"Now it's just throbbing. Of course it takes my mind off the lump on the back of my head from where Gavin smacked it against the floor a couple times trying to knock me out. How about you? You aren't movin' real fast," he commented on Hutch's snail-like walk across the room to his own bed, where he lay on his back and let out a loud sigh.

"I think I picked up some bruised ribs, and that eye's damn near shut, but other than that, I feel fantastic."

"Well, this was a real highlight, wasn't it?" Starsky stared at the ceiling, and then looked at Hutch. For some inexplicable reason, they started laughing. Hutch held onto his side, but he still shook as he lay on the bed.

"I'm glad we took this trip to get away from all the pressure and danger in LA!" He winced at the pain in his ribs but laughed hard enough to evoke tears.

"Yeah--I think we've gotten roughed up and threatened more in the last two days than we have in the last two months back home. I guess we just know how to attract the finer element of society."

"What do you call that move--the one where you were riding around on Gavin's back there for a few minutes?" Hutch asked, still chortling.

"Oh, you mean right before he threw me up on the stage? I think desperation is the name of that maneuver."

"Incidentally, thanks for jumping in there for me."

"I didn't see his two friends." Starsky groaned a little as he pulled himself up and sat against the headboard.

"That wouldn't have stopped you."

"Nah, I'da still been dumb enough to jump right in."

"You're good backup, partner. I owe you one." Hutch said, completely serious.

"Right back at ya, pal. As far as owing me one, I think we lost count a long time ago."

"Yeah, I think you're right," Hutch replied with a smile.

"So, I guess we might as well hose ourselves down and get some sleep. If we can move tomorrow, we could go see some sights." Starsky swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed and then stood up gingerly. "I've seen my grandmother move faster than this." He stretched, vainly trying to ease the stiffness in his back. "Man, he really slammed me on that stage."

"Do you think you ought to get looked over by a doctor for any reason?"

"Nah. How about you? Are you sure it's just bruised ribs? I mean we shouldn't mess around with it if there's any danger of internal injuries."

"It's nothing a couple days won't heal up. If you want the shower first, go for it. I don't think I'll ever get up again."

Starsky plodded into the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The nosebleed had left him with enough stains to resemble a stabbing victim. He touched the cut on his lip with his tongue and winced. It would be a couple of days before his characteristic grin could get back in action. His head was engaging in a full fledged pounding by now, emanating from the large lump on the back of it. He turned on the shower and hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.

The following day was better, and the weather cooperated. It was sunny and mild, the temperature climbing up to almost 60 degrees. While neither of them moved swiftly, the previous night's injuries appeared to be superficial, and nothing that would prevent a little sightseeing. Starsky's camera was back in action, and their first stop was the Hermitage, the white-pillared mansion of Andrew Jackson. The tour of the inside of the house was interesting from an architectural standpoint, and staying true to form, Starsky had unearthed at least one piece of strange trivia for the occasion.

"See that mantel over there?" He nudged Hutch. "One of Jackson's soldiers worked on that for 24 years."

"It's beautiful--doesn't look quite that intricate, though."

"He only worked on it one day each year."

"He must've had about as much time off as we do."

"More. He had time to take up woodworking in the first place." Starsky captured the mantel on film.

The gardens of the house were impressive, but not at their peak during the winter season. There was more of interest to look over at the Belle Meade mansion, which boasted a good collection of old carriages and a wealth of equestrian history, with the ancestors of the famous racehorse, Secretariat, having been bred there. Hutch added the Cheekwood Fine Arts Center to their roster of sites for the day. This was not popular with Starsky because it meant delaying lunch to "traipse around and look at art".

By mid-afternoon, they stopped at a restaurant to eat, and contemplate the possibilities for the evening. As their steaks were served, Starsky broached the subject of returning to the Watering Trough for amateur night.

"I just hate to see you get screwed out of playing there because I think you'd win it. I'm not just blowing hot air now, either. I really think you'd be a hit there."

"Well, Starsk, I don't plan on getting tossed around the bar again."

"Look, this time, we know what the dangers are. I'll be your bodyguard."

"Yeah, sure. You're in a lot better shape than I am, Quasimodo." Hutch referred to Starsky's stiff back and shoulder, which he had favored most of the day. "I'm just not interested in starting something."

"Hey, last night we were a couple of stupid tourists who walked in and acted like civilians when a fight broke out. If I go in there tonight, I go in as a cop, with my defenses up and my hand a few inches away from my gun."

"You made the right call not bringing a gun into that fight last night. Could've made matters a lot worse."

"Yeah, yelling 'freeze, police' would've been a lot harder than getting thrown around the bar." He stretched uncomfortably in the booth. "If we decided to go there, we could call the manager first, see if he's gonna put a ban on Gavin and his goons coming in there. If he is, then I can keep an eye out for them while you do your thing."

"I was kind of planning on you for my backup band."

"I can't play the guitar and play bodyguard at the same time. Come on, Hutch. I've just got this really good feeling about tonight--about that contest."

"What're the prizes again?"

"$500 first, $250 second and $100 third."

"$500, huh?" Hutch contemplated the prize money as he chewed another bite of meat. "I suppose we could talk to the manager. I mean if they're going to keep Gavin and company out anyway..."

"We might as well not let it ruin your chances. Maybe you'll get discovered. I could handle managing a star--you know, supervising your security to keep the sex-crazed women away."

"Or at least just screening them for me," Hutch retorted with a smile.

"You'll do it then?"

"Why not? We've lived through this much, we might as well go for it and hope our luck holds."

"It will. I have--"

"I know--a feeling."

Hutch managed to convince Starsky to go entertain himself elsewhere for the afternoon while he worked on his material for the night's performance. There was a song bouncing around in his head just dying to come out, and he wasn't sure how Starsky would react to it. Something about his partner's continuing grief over Terry, and the depth of a love that would cause such a continuing level of pain, was inspiring to the songwriter in him, and despite his misgivings of how Starsky might feel about it, Hutch put pen to paper and started writing lyrics. And when they came, they flowed like a river, and the soft, gentle strummings of the guitar that would bring them to life seemed to come with equal ease. Maybe this song would help. Maybe it would let Starsky know that someone else really did understand how he felt, and maybe that would make it easier. Maybe it wouldn't...Hutch didn't know, but the song was beautiful, and just maybe if Starsky thought he wasn't so alone in remembering Terry, he'd be a little less depressed.

The Watering Trough was even more crowded than usual for the amateur contest. Hutch had been one of the last allowed to sign up, with a total of twenty local musicians on the roster to play one song each. The manager had assured them that Gavin was not welcome at the club, and had no objections to a little free security service from Starsky, who lived up to his bodyguard job by keeping a constantly vigilant eye on the entrance throughout the evening.

Lisa, Karen and Tania didn't show as they had said they would, but given the chances of a repeat of the previous evening, the guys didn't blame them. Furthermore, they probably assumed Hutch's plans to compete in amateur night had been scrapped.

Hutch shifted nervously in his chair. They had only seen two acts, and he was tenth on the list. Stage fright seemed to be seeping in, right on schedule, Starsky thought with slight amusement.

"You're ten times better than those two turkeys," Starsky said calmly, and he genuinely meant it. He hadn't heard anything he considered serious competition from the first two performers: one a young girl who had problems singing in the right key for more than a few notes and the other a middle aged man who performed an old Hank Williams song very well, but didn't seem to bond with the crowd, who only applauded politely. Hutch seemed encouraged by Starsky's assessment.

"You really think so? 'Course we've only heard two acts."

"I already told you you're gonna win. I don't know why you won't believe me. Besides, you're wearing your lucky dress."

"Serape, Starsky, serape."

"Serape, poncho, dress, what's the difference?" Starsky needled.

The next few acts were quite good, a band with a country-rock style, a woman who sang a pretty decent version of a Crystal Gayle love song, and a couple of young men who sang more up tempo country hits. Hutch had rehearsed most of the afternoon and planned to play a new song he had written but never performed before. In Starsky's opinion, it was a beauty and a sure-fire winner. It was slow and a little melancholy, but it gave Hutch's voice a perfect showcase, and would probably go over well with the couples in the crowd.

"Let's have a big hand for Tammy Garner, folks," the emcee took the microphone after the ninth act finished. "Our next performer is visiting Nashville from LA, where he spends most of his time chasing the bad guys. Let's give a big Watering Trough welcome to the singing cop from California, Ken Hutchinson," the large man clapped loudly, and as the audience joined him, Hutch headed for the stage, with a backward glance toward Starsky. His partner raised his fist slightly and grinned. He has every confidence I'm gonna win this thing, Hutch thought to himself. Maybe he's right...

Hutch's performance was flawless. He had most of the women obviously entranced, making significant eye contact with a few of them during the song. What a song it was too. Hutch had announced its title as "The Light of Shooting Stars":

Now and then I find myself

Reflecting back on you,

Memories of the love we had

Return so painfully true.

I've been all alone it seems

For such a long, long time,

Since the first time I kissed you

... And called you mine.

Loveliness that never fades

Since time has yet to pass,

You were called away from me

From a love that still lasts.

When I'm in a crowded room

Or with a love that's new

Why am I there all alone

... Still loving you?

Now I've learned to live

By the light of shooting stars,

I have no more left to give

Since all I want is what was ours...

And it fell so fast and bright

Just like the heavenly flight...Of shooting stars.

Through the flood of tears I've cried

In the darkness of the night,

I see the beauty of your smile

In the dawn's first rays of light.

Oh, my love, you promised me

You would always be

My special angel up in heaven...

Watching over me, so...

Now I've learned to live my life

By the light of shooting stars.

I have no more left to give,

Since all I want is what was ours...

And it fell so fast and bright

Crashing through the darkest night...

Just like the heavenly flight...

Of shooting stars.

Can I hold you one more time?

Can I kiss you or call you mine?

Is the river you crossed too wide

To see you on the other side?

Or are you still there loving me,

Somewhere in the light...of shooting stars.

Starsky found himself fighting back tears at the words, which expressed so perfectly and so beautifully everything he ever felt about Terry's death. And maybe what touched him the most was that someone else understood his very soul so completely that they could speak for him...and that someone cared enough to put into words what he couldn't himself. He barely remembered to snap a few shots of the performance, but this was a moment too special to miss.

When Hutch finished, he was rewarded with an enthusiastic round of applause, which of course was helped along by Starsky, who had prodded a couple of tables near them to join him in starting a standing ovation. Hutch didn't know there was any subterfuge involved, and in Starsky's opinion, there probably wouldn't have had to be. Of course a little insurance never hurts. After they saw at least six people on their feet, most of the other tables followed suit. Hutch left the stage amid the cheers and returned to the table. He gave Starsky a high five and sat down for a gulp of beer. The people at the nearby tables made various positive comments, and one woman even handed him a slip of paper bearing her name and phone number.

The next act took the stage, and Hutch looked infinitely more relaxed.

"I told you you'd do great tonight. You had the audience right here," Starsky pointed to the palm of his hand. "That song is beautiful. It really hit home, but it was beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it. I wrote it for you."

"I know. You're never going to know what it means to me."

"I know how much you and Terry had together, and I loved her too--as a good friend. When she died, I watched you suffer a lot, but I also saw you come back out of it, get back on the job and go on with your life--but I know that it never really got better. You just found a way to put it somewhere inside so you could move on. The whole situation just inspired the words in the song. I was afraid you'd feel like I was trivializing the situation by making it into a song, but you were the one who encouraged me to do this, which is something I always wanted to do, so I wanted to acknowledge that somehow. Plus I wanted you to know that I really did understand what you were trying to tell me."

"It did a lot of things, Hutch, but trivializing the loss isn't one of them. I don't even know what to say." The gesture seemed to have moved Starsky even more than the song.

"I see you had your camera in action again," Hutch tried to lighten the mood a little, but Starsky would not be that quickly diverted.

"Thanks, Hutch. I know Terry loved it, too."

"No more than we loved her, right?"

"Right," Starsky replied with a slight grin.

"No sign of Gavin?" Hutch craned his neck to scan the club.

"All's quiet on the western front, as they say," Starsky responded.

Both of them enjoyed the remainder of the evening, the pressure of Hutch's performance behind them. The other acts were all pretty good, but Starsky maintained to the bitter end that his partner would emerge victorious. The judges were a group of ten people who cast ballots, and they supposedly based their decision on their own opinions as well as audience response. The emcee took the stage near midnight to announce the winner's list.

"Hey, gang, let me have your attention. We've got some prizes to give away here." He opened a sealed envelope, slowly and deliberately as the audience and performers fidgeted nervously. "Okay, our third prize of $100 goes to...Marie O'Connor! Marie gave us her best Crystal Gayle impersonation, and it got her a hundred bucks. Come on up, Marie." The audience applauded, and the young woman accepted her prize and disappeared back into the audience. "All right, settle down, folks. We've got two more winners here. Second prize, $250, goes to...The Horse Shoes!" The country rock band hurried up to the stage, all four of them, to collect the prize. The audience settled their cheering rather quickly in anticipation of the upcoming announcement. Starsky had the fingers of both hands crossed, and had moved to the edge of his chair. Hutch was alert now, too, still as a statue watching the emcee. "And now, for our grand prize winner, the one who gets the big prize, the Watering Trough's favorite amateur...the winner of 500 big ones...our singing cop from LA, Ken Hutchinson!"

Both Starsky and Hutch were out of their seats with the rest of the cheering crowd instantly. Hutch took only a second to briefly hug his partner before running up to the stage to accept his prize. This was another standing ovation, and Starsky hadn't had anything to do with it. Hutch waved to the crowd as he left the stage, and he had to admit, Starsky had been right about this one. It had been probably the most exciting live performance experience of his life. A big crowd of strangers who had no reason to be polite. These people genuinely liked him. In one of the country's music capitols, he had been a big hit.

"Man, I don't believe this," Hutch said gleefully as they sat back down at the table and were served a free pitcher of beer, compliments of the management. "What a night!"

"Glad you came?" Starsky poured them each another drink.

"Oh, yeah. I have you to thank for that one. I didn't wanna get back into this crowd again after last night, but this was...incredible." Hutch was more animated and enthusiastic than Starsky had seen him in a long time.

"I'm glad we didn't let some overgrown dirtbag mess it up. I told ya you'd blow 'em away."

"It's weird, you know, performing in front of a group where you only really know one person in the crowd. I mean, you were the only one who would've clapped for me anyway if I had been lousy. Playing for get-togethers, or even a couple times at Huggy's for fun--those people are gonna be polite, even if you stink. These people were genuinely into the music. My music. People who have everything in Nashville at their fingertips all the time, were excited by my music. I'm tellin' ya, Starsk, this was the ultimate high."

"It was a tough crowd, but you won 'em over. Say, what about that phone number you got?"

"Souvenir. I've tangled with enough ex-boyfriends for one vacation."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right about that."

It was after two in the morning when they returned to the hotel, which was later than they'd planned, since they had a fourteen-hour stretch of driving to Pennsylvania planned for the next day. It was getting dangerously close to Hanukkah, and bad weather had been reported in some areas of Pennsylvania and the East Coast, so holding to their driving schedule would be essential to making it there on time.

Starsky stared at the ceiling for a number of hours before dozing off. He was sleepy, but somehow his mind wouldn't turn itself off for the night. The song lyrics replayed in his mind. He should be taking Terry home to meet his family. How had Hutch captured it all in that one song?

Going home again. That was an odd thought. He had consciously avoided returning to the Brooklyn neighborhood of his youth for a number of years. His mother had begged him to visit, but he had always found some other way to spend his vacation time. He wanted to see her again, to see his brother and his cousins and his old friends, but the ghosts of the past were everywhere in that old neighborhood.

Hutch was sleeping soundly in the other bed, though it had taken a while to peel him off the ceiling from his performance. What a performance it had been. That guy shouldn't be wasting his time chasing sleazebags around the city. He ought to be doing this for a living. He was too talented to just waste it away on half-drunk cops lying around belching and eating ribs at the next police barbecue.

It was almost six. They had agreed to start out at seven. Maybe he ought to forego waking his partner for another couple hours. Last night had been a big night.

"You awake, Starsk?" Hutch's voice startled him.

"Yeah. Have been for a while. You want to start out on schedule or sleep in a while?"

"Nah. I'm awake. I think we ought to do our damnedest to get to Pennsylvania by tonight. I don't want us to get thrown too far off if we hit some bad roads. The weather report I heard yesterday said they had about six inches of snow in parts of Pennsylvania over the last day or so with more on the way."

"Swell." Starsky sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. He was suddenly sleepy now that the night was over. "Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again for the song."

"Think of it as an early Christmas present," Hutch replied, seemingly a little uneasy with the subject. But then he never did like emotional moments.

"It said it all. Everything I've tried to explain, you know in little disjointed parts? It pulled it all together and made sense. I could've never put it all in words, but you did. I was thinking about it while I couldn't sleep, and it amazes me."

"I don't know how amazing it is."

"It's amazing, if not a little scary, that you must know me better than I know myself."

"I'm just more naturally eloquent than you are," Hutch teased, getting out of bed.

"I guess that must be it," Starsky said with a slight smile. "So, should we go downstairs for breakfast? They put on a pretty good spread down there."

"Okay. You want the shower first?"

"No. Go ahead. I get to stay in bed longer that way." Starsky slid partway down into the covers again.

They loaded the car before going into the dining room to put away a big breakfast. They were a little behind schedule getting started, but Starsky vowed to make it up on the clear roads before they entered what they had come to call "the snow zone".

The first part of the drive was uneventful, if not dull. Starsky did make good time on the highway, sending trees and mountains whizzing by the windows in drab-colored blurs. Hutch teased Starsky at one point that the impressionist painters had gotten their perspective on nature while traveling with him. They opted to eat munchies out of their provision bags rather than stop for a meal. The weather was getting increasingly colder as they traveled, and there were even snow flurries as they entered Virginia. After Starsky complained of a stiff back from so long in the car, they stopped at a rest area off the highway through Virginia. The snow was picking up pace now, and the temperatures were in the low thirties, threatening the possibility of freezing rain with a little fluctuation of the mercury. It was near dinner time, almost six, when they gave up and made the stop. Starsky had been determinedly driving like a demon down the highway, and he didn't seem interested to break that stride until almost eight hours had passed. Hutch had dozed off for a stretch, and was amazed that he had slept for two solid hours while his partner kept going.

"You want me to drive the rest of the way?" Hutch offered.

"That's not fair. The weather's getting crappy now."

"I'll get even with you on the way to Minnesota. The keys?" Hutch held out his hand and Starsky tossed them to him and went to the passenger seat of the car. He was relieved to be off the hook for a few hours, and it wasn't fifteen minutes down the highway that he was asleep.

The weather was increasingly treacherous as they moved through Virginia and into Pennsylvania. The snow had picked up again, and by the time Hutch was seeing signs for Lancaster, he was traveling about twenty miles per hour under the speed limit. The windshield wipers were working overtime tossing the wet snow back and forth, and the headlights were reflecting off the white stuff Hutch hadn't had to contend with on the road since he was a teenager. The wide tires on the Torino did a good job in the snow, but it was still a white-knuckler for an LA resident to make his way down a highway at night in a snowstorm. Starsky stirred and came to as they took the exit for Lancaster, which was their destination. It was almost ten at night.

"Whoa--I guess we're in the 'snow zone'."

"We've been there for a few hours now, sleeping beauty."

"What time--" Starsky squinted at his watch. "Man, ten o'clock. I didn't mean to die on you like that."

"No problem. I've had my hands full with the road conditions anyway. We should be in Lancaster any minute now, so you might want to get the directions out for that bed and breakfast."

"By the way, when we get into Lancaster, don't hit any Amish people."

"I don't think there are any on the expressway in horse-drawn carts, but thanks for the warning," Hutch retorted with a snicker.

Starsky read the directions aloud and would continue as they met each landmark until, having passed a couple of horse-drawn carts struggling through the snow on less-traveled roads, they arrived at the bed and breakfast. It was probably the only non-Amish dwelling in the immediate area, and Hutch had to admit Starsky had picked the perfect spot for them to soak up a hot shot of local color. The snow had accumulated to almost a foot in Lancaster over the past couple of days, and they both trudged, with soaked feet, through a considerable amount of it before completing their trail to the front entrance. Boots and gloves had slipped both their minds, so dressed in ski jackets and scarves, they arrived at the front desk with frozen hands and saturated shoes.

"Welcome to the Traveler's Inn, gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?" The woman behind the counter was an older lady with greying hair and a pleasant smile.

"Starsky and Hutchinson," Starsky spoke up. "I called you a week or so ago."

"I have it right here. You'll be in room 2B. Just follow the stairs up to the second floor, turn right. It's the second door on the left-hand side of the hall." She glanced at the reservation form. "That room has its own bath, so you won't have to worry about sharing." She pulled a key off a hook on the wall and handed it to Hutch. Starsky had been blowing into his cupped hands to get a little feeling back to sign the register. "Oh, and I did manage to get you the one with the fireplace, Mr. Starsky--just like you requested."

"That's great news. Thanks again." He smiled as he signed the guest book.

They followed the directions and found the room easily, unlocked it and dumped their luggage inside the door. It was a large square room with rich woodwork, finely striped wallpaper and heavy decorator shades in the window, burgundy to match the carpeting. There was a large fireplace with a good supply of firewood stacked in a brass holder on the brick flooring immediately in front of it. Two overstuffed chairs faced the fireplace, while twin beds, a dresser and a desk completed the room's furnishings.

"This is quite a place," Hutch pulled off his blue ski jacket and scarf and hung them on the back of the desk chair. Starsky didn't seem ready to relinquish his red jacket and black scarf anytime soon. He crouched by the fireplace and started working on stacking the wood for a fire.

"I can't believe neither one of us had the presence of mind to wear boots."

"How many times has it snowed in LA in the last few years?" Hutch sat on his bed and kicked off his wet shoes. "Where'd you find this place?"

"You know Tom Sherman at headquarters, right?"

"The records guy? Sure."

"His parents live around here, and when I told him we'd be passing through Pennsylvania, he asked if we were interested in seeing Amish country up-close. I said yes, so he told me about this place. The lady who owns it is a friend of his mother's." Starsky struck one of the long fireplace matches and thrust it into the center of his log pile. A few weak flames began crackling. Satisfied, he straightened up and took off his jacket and tossed it on the foot of his bed.

"You did a lot of research into this project, huh?"

"You can't just start out and keep driving. I mean, you could if you had a few months to do it, but since we've got plans for the holidays and we have to travel pretty quickly, I didn't want to miss anything." Starsky returned to look at his fire, which was beginning to leap and crackle invitingly. He slumped in one of the chairs and removed his shoes and wet socks, flexing his toes a few feet away from the fire. Before long, Hutch joined him in the other chair.

"I wouldn't want to drive that straight through many times," he commented, pushing back some damp blond hair from his forehead.

"It was a little intense, I guess. But it seemed like a good way to pick up some time."

"It was, I'm just tired," Hutch concluded, through a wide yawn. The warmth of the fire was seeping into the room, and it was hard to fight the urge to doze off and sleep in the chair.

"She said something about a bathroom," Starsky stood up and located the door and disappeared into the adjoining bath. The bathroom, Hutch thought. I might go if I could get out of the chair, he pondered with another yawn. "Are you hungry?" A voice called from the other side of the door.

"Starving." Hutch was quiet a minute. He heard the pipes clang as Starsky turned on the faucet. "I s'pose they only serve breakfast here," he called over the running water.

"Hence the name," Starsky replied, returning to the room. "I guess we shoulda stopped." He looked at his watch. It was after eleven.

"That's probably my fault. I didn't want to be out on the roads too much longer."

"I better give my mother a call. She'll be worried when she hears the weather reports." Starsky picked up the phone and dialed the number quickly. After a few rings, he began talking. "Ma? Yeah, it's me...no, we're fine. That's why I'm calling. It's a little snowy around Pennsylvania...yeah, a bed and breakfast in Lancaster. We're going to look at Amish people tomorrow..." He looked over at Hutch who smirked at the comment. "The roads were kind of nasty near Lancaster--Hutch did most of the driving in the bad weather tonight, so he'd be a better judge than me...I'm hoping we'll be on schedule, but I promise--right, I promise if things get too hazardous we'll stay over somewhere...No, I won't...I hope so too." He sat on the edge of the bed while she apparently elaborated on something. "So he's not gonna be there? How long's he been gone?" Another long pause. "Who's keeping you shoveled out?" Starsky suddenly looked irritated. "Ma, I told you not to...You know very well why Vinnie shouldn't be hanging around there...I don't care," he said firmly, and stood up again, pacing back and forth. "So hire somebody." He waited another long stint. "I'll pay for it myself when I get there but I don't think--...I know you've been running the house fine on your own, but I'm tellin' ya I don't want Vinnie and his cohorts anywhere near you. You know they're nothin' better than thugs for Goretti," Hutch's ears perked up at the mention of this name. Good old Joe Durniak and his band of merry men. They still had their foothold in Starsky's family even after the old mobster was dead. "Okay, yeah, you're right. Will you please just pay the neighbor kids for the driveway? Unless it does anything unusual in the meantime, I'll look at the furnace when I get there. If you have any problems just get it done and have them send a bill. I'll take care of it." He sat back on the edge of the bed. By now, uneasy at eavesdropping on the conversation, Hutch had disappeared into the bathroom. "Okay. No, I understand...right. I love you too, Ma. See you soon...Bye." He hung up the phone.

"You can come out now!" Starsky called to Hutch, who looked out of the bathroom a little sheepishly. "You don't have to hide in the bathroom. There's nothing new happening you haven't heard about before. My flaky brother is in Florida with his new girlfriend, my mother is letting hoods that work for Tommy Goretti keep her driveway shoveled...damn it, some things never change."

"She's still in touch with Durniak's people, huh?"

"I don't know." Starsky shook his head and sat back in one of the chairs by the fire. "Somewhere, my dad is turning over in his grave as we speak."

"Did the NYPD ever have anything on him in connection with your dad's shooting?"

"Nobody ever had anything concrete on that toad for very long. I remember seeing his fat, ugly face across the dinner table in my father's chair...turned my stomach then and just thinking about it does now. I made a sort of peace with him at a point when we were guarding him. He explained a lot of things to me about how he felt about my mother, and that he was essentially turning state's evidence on a lot of his old rivals because he was getting uneasy about her safety. But this Goretti character was always in charge of Joe's muscle. He led the thugs in their daily activities when Joe didn't want to get his hands dirty." Starsky hit the arm of the chair with his fist.

"Hey, Starsk, take it easy." Hutch sat on the arm of the other chair and rested his hand on his partner's shoulder. He groped for some other wise advice, but he could think of nothing profound. Durniak was a gangster, and he had spent a lot of time moving in on Starsky's father's territory after his death. But Durniak had been "the end of an era" as he had said himself. He was the last of the gangsters with hearts of gold who protected women and children just out of the goodness of their hearts. Goretti was nothing more than a common hood, and Starsky's anger, frustration and pain over that fact was justified.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Getting all worked up over this. It's nothing new." There was an uncharacteristic tone of resignation in Starsky's voice that saddened his partner greatly. As argumentative as he could be, as optimistic as he could be that he could change the status quo if he just tried hard enough, on this one point he seemed resigned to a miserable situation.

"You don't want Tommy Goretti to spoil your visit with your mother, do you?"

"Hell, no. But I didn't want Durniak coming over for dinner and kissing her goodnight either, but he did that too. Of course I was a lot smaller then. If Goretti touches her now, I'll knock him on his ass before he knows what hit him."

"If she doesn't want him to." Hutch ventured the remark, but Starsky did not react angrily.

"I guess I don't want her to want it. That doesn't mean she doesn't."

"Come on, let's go find some food." Hutch stood up. "Maybe they'll let us have something from the kitchen.

"Okay," Starsky rose from his chair and followed his partner downstairs, where they followed a hallway back to a darkened kitchen. No one was at the front desk, the lights were dimmed, and it was obvious the owners were off-duty and retired to their own private quarters. Finding an unguarded refrigerator was too much to hope for.

They found a ring of bologna, some mustard and ketchup, a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. It wasn't gourmet fare, but it looked pretty good under the circumstances. Starsky was silent and moody while he ate, the call to his mother not having had a good effect on him. Hutch was quiet as well, but for more pleasant reasons. He couldn't get his successful performance in Nashville out of his mind, and he had been thinking a lot about Janine. Tomorrow, he would call her and tell her that.

"So, what's on our itinerary tomorrow?" Hutch broke the silence.

"Well, being it's winter I don't know how much fun touring