Hello darkness my old friend; I’ve come to talk with you again.
Because a vision softly creeping; left its seeds while I was sleeping.
And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains; within the sound of silence (Simon and Garfunkel)

Starsky was taking a long time to recover this time.
It wasn’t the physical recovery although God knows that had taken long enough.

The psychological fallout had really taken Hutch and the others by surprise. Starsky refused to speak to anyone. He stayed locked in his silence. Now he was in a psychiatric clinic doing jigsaw puzzles and refusing to make eye-contact with anyone.

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

Six months.
Two months for each of the bullets that had ripped his body and almost taken his life.

Hutch had doggedly gone on with his job – tracing all the way to the top and finally arresting Gunther. He’d come running when Starsky’s heart stopped the first time and he’d prayed like he’d never prayed before – stuck in San Francisco dealing with the arrest formalities when word came that his heart had stopped for a second time.
Somewhere in the coming and going between investigation and bedside vigil, Hutch had seen Starsky surface for a few sweet moments. Time enough for him to hysterically rattle off the computer printout in his hands; time enough for Starsky to smile before he sank back into the coma. Gunther was already in jail and Starsky lay surrounded by the tubes that took fluids in and out of his body with monitors beeping and bleeping to prove that yes, he was still alive.

In the darkness he was clinging to the sound of those beeps like a lifebelt.

The doctors were amazed that he had survived. One bullet had seared through a lung; another had nicked his spleen tearing a length of gut on the way; and a third had narrowly missed his spinal column. And there were the broken bones too. Two ribs were fractured when he fell and the cardiac massage had broken two more.
His right arm and collar bone were both broken. Two cardiac arrests had severely limited the blood flow to his brain long enough for there to be a possibility of permanent damage…brain damage.
Hutch stood with Lily Starsky while the doctor explained that until her son gained total consciousness there was no way of knowing what his recovery possibilities would be. They took it in turns to sit in vigil by his bedside. Hutch took the nightshift; Lily took the day shift while Hutch grabbed a few hours sleep before going on with the investigation.

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

All Starsky could feel was pain. His body hurt in ways he could never have imagined - and God know he'd been in pain often enough. He knew that he wasn't dead; but he wasn't too sure whether he was alive. He could hear voices somewhere in the distance - the noise in his head made it difficult to hear what they were saying.
He was floating somewhere between life and death and he was going to fight every inch of the way to get to the right side of the divide.

Why can't I tell them I'm here? Hutch? Can you hear me, Hutch?
He was shouting in his head but instinctively he knew that there were no words coming out of his mouth.
So thirsty.
Momma?
Momma where are you it's dark in here and I'm scared!
Can't breathe.
It hurts too much.

It’s like swimming deep underwater and not being able to get back to the surface.
There’s a light over there – but I don’t want to go.
I can hear you calling me…dad…Terri… but I’m not ready to leave them yet.

Aw mom, don’t cry – I’m trying to get back.
It’s so dark and cold here.
So thirsty.
So much pain.

Why is everything fading?....getting colder?...

The monitor by the bed signaled cardiac arrest. Dobey watched in horror as the staff arrived in their calm way – they walked quickly but seemed unhurried. He rushed to a ‘phone and told Hutch to get back here as quickly as he could.

While a nurse prepared to cut the bandages on Starsky’s torso an intern started cardiac massage and another nurse took up the steady pumping of the respirator. The doctor applied the paddles and they stood back as Starsky’s torso jolted with the first shock. There was no sign of a reaction.

Ow what was that? Jolted through me like and made every bone in my body rattle…again?...why are they torturing me like this…Ow, that one hurt even more…
Hey it’s getting warmer…the light has gone…I can’t see you anymore dad. Terri?
I can hear my heart beating. It sounds like a drum in my head. Something is sucking at my chest…

Hutch arrived just in time to see the doctor try again and again. He prayed, begged and pleaded with a god he hadn’t turned to for years to please spare his partner.
The medical team stepped back from the bed and Hutch raised his head to see that the monitor had resumed its steady, monotonous and heart-warming beep beep beep beep….

Hutch sat his lonely vigil…sometimes he was relieved by Lily, sometimes by Dobey or Huggy; but the truth was he dared not go too far away in case Starsky died and he wasn’t there to say goodbye.

Tubes entered and left Starsky's body - evacuating his bladder and his gut; feeding him with a saline drip and boosting his strength with new blood.
Dobey followed Hutch's gaze.
"He'll pull through, Ken. You know that he doesn't give up easily."
"Yea. But this time the damage is massive. The doc said he was lucky not to lose his spleen. They still don't know if his liver is OK."

Finally Hutch agreed to go out and get on with his job – and Huggy ran after him to keep him company.

There was a brief moment when Hutch believed that Starsky had recovered. He was sitting by the bed poring over a computer read-out when he saw his partner’s eyes flicker. But it didn’t last long and Starsky sank back into his coma.

Gunther was arrested and in jail and Hutch spent every day with Lily. They took it in turns to go to the bathroom or to get something to eat. Days passed into weeks and Starsky lay on his back with a peaceful smile on his face as the machines pumped and hissed and kept him alive.

Lily had gone to get some rest and Hutch was alone with Starsky.

Hutch is there...I can sense him even if he says nothing….what was it bubba Starsky said about don’t let the sun set on your arguments…hey buddy…I still want that dinner.

I see them again… they are holding their hands out to take me with them. I’m not ready…but dad says the pain will go if I follow him. It hurts. My whole body hurts.
Terri…I still love you. Why didn’t you marry me? I want to be with you…will the pain go?
No I’m not ready yet. Mom doesn’t want me to go yet…she loves me too. I gotta hang on and fight back. I love you Terri, but I’m not ready to come with you yet.
Too many things to settle here.
You taught me not to run away dad…I’m staying here.

Everything hurts… Worse than after the worst fight with a tough guy…feel like I’ve been run over by a truck….

Hutch listened to the beeping of the monitors. The doctors were pretty sure that Starsky would breathe without assistance – but they were not ready to take the risk yet and the respirator hissed and sighed as it filled and emptied his lungs.
Hutch needed a leak. He was quick as he could be. Something attracted his attention when he returned. He would never know why…but he sensed that something had changed. He went to the read-out that came from one of the monitors…it showed the brain’s activity. Hutch looked at it and saw the pattern – it looked like something he had seen on the TV after an earthquake. He rang for a nurse.
The nurse looked at the paper and went to find the neurologist.

“Something’s happening…no doubt about it… but I can’t say what. It could be that he is dreaming…or that his body is reacting to pain….”

Well give the kid a prize. Pain – that’s what it is….
My whole fucking body hurts….

The needle quivered again and traced a furious series of peaks on the paper.

“He reacted…I’m sure he reacted.” Hutch said urgently. “Does that mean he can maybe hear us doc?”

Of course I can hear you…but you can’t hear me.
Listen Hutch; listen in that part of your mind that links to mine…I’m calling out to you buddy…help me get back

Hutch sat by the bed and took his friend’s hand in his again.
He sat for a while; silent and still; and then it happened. He wasn’t imagining it…Starsky’s hand moved. Hutch changed position so that his hand was in Starsky’s and waited. And waited. He bowed his head in defeat; “maybe I imagined it.”

Hang on to me buddy…. I’m trying to get back…I need you to help me…hold my hand and don’t let me fall back….
Hutch felt Starsky’s fingers move; he waited and this time he felt a pressure on his hand. The needle was moving fast again.
Hutch thought he saw a sign of life from Starsky. One of the long-lashed eyelids had flickered.
“Starsk? Are you coming back to us? Hey buddy.”

Thirsty. My mouth is so dry…feels like the Mojave Desert in here.
Another effort…here we go….

He gripped Hutch’s hand again. Hutch felt the strong slender fingers close around his own.
“He gripped my hand I felt it. Doc he moved.”

Ok let’s see what else I can do.

“He opened his eyes…look he’s opened his eyes. Starsk – hey Starsk, can you hear me.”

And the winner of the dumb question of the month is Ken Hutchinson from Duluth Minnesota.
Shit I wish I could laugh.

Hutch watched Starsky’s eyes carefully – yes his partner; his best friend, could hear him.
“I’m going to call your mom…she’s getting some rest; I’ll be right back.”

Aw shit I hope she isn’t gonna cry
What is this thing in my mouth?
No wonder I’m so dry.

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

“We'll know in a day or two whether he's going to make it or not. And even if he does...he's going to need a very long time to recover. He won't be fit to work for months."
"Months!"
"A few more weeks for the broken bones to heal. And I would guess another month or two for full recovery. He'll have to go to a rehab facility. He's a veteran isn't he?"
Hutch nodded sadly.
"That means he has the right to go to a military rehab - and frankly they have the best facilities. Of course all this is assuming that there isn't brain damage."
Hutch sat upright. "Brain damage?"
"He had two cardiac arrests; his brain didn’t get all the blood it needed. We can evaluate most damage easily enough - his broken bones and his damaged organs; but we can only know the extent of the effect of all this on his brain when - if he comes round. Then we can ask him to carry out simple actions and..."
"...and know if he's a vegetable or not!"
"I wouldn't put it like that but...yes, depending on his responses."

I'm not a fucking vegetable!
"Won't someone please give me something to drink?
So thirsty!

There were two nurses in the room now; removing the breathing tube and checking some of the monitors. Starsky felt the pressure between his teeth relax

“Thanks”…his voice was barely audible. One of the nurses smiled and said “it’s a pleasure to have you with us again. I guess your mouth is pretty dry – I’ll get you something.” She returned with a goblet and a straw – one of those bendy things kids get at the burger joint. Before she could hold it to his lips Lily Starsky burst into the room; followed closely by Hutch.
“Davey, oh my baby, oh my sweet Davey.”
He winked at Hutch. At least he hoped he had; it felt like it anyhow.
She took the goblet. “Here you are sweetheart; momma’s here to help you with this. Take little sips – remember when you had your tonsils out…all that ice-cream you had.”
She turned to the nurse. “He could maybe have some ice-cream now?”
Starsky noted how his mom’s voice took back its Yiddish cadences when she got carried away with emotion and flicked a grin at Hutch. This time he could see that it worked. Hutch grinned back.
“I think maybe just water for now Mrs. Starsky; then we’ll see what the doctor says about ice-cream.”

The doctor said “No.” He explained that Starsky had suffered massive damage and that although there was no evidence of digestive problems there was still a long way to go before he could have solid food.
“Some chicken soup maybe?”
“Not even chicken soup yet, Mrs. Starsky. In a day or two maybe…but for now I’ll arrange for a new drip feed.”
He turned his attention to his patient. “Welcome back. We really thought we’d lost you back there; you have a heart like an ox. And willpower – I’m sure of that.”

Wait for it…”Stubborn as a mule”.

“Stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.” Hutch said.
“My Davey was always determined to get his own way.”

Just like his father
“Just like his father” Lily chorused.

“Now I think that David should be left to rest. You may stay with him Mrs. Starsky – but please don't let him get excited."

“Don’t worry doc – she’ll get hysterical enough for both of us!” His voice was strained but his mother heard him clearly enough.
“Davey!”
“I love you mom.”
Lily started to cry.
I knew it!
He drifted off again – but this time he was only asleep. Lily turned worried eyes to the doctor and for the first time Hutch noticed how much her son resembled her.
“He’s very weak; he’ll drift in and out of consciousness for a while; but don’t worry, I really don’t think we will lose him now.”
Not if I can help it you won’t!

Hutch left them and went to give the good news to the Dobey family and Huggy.

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

It was a long time before he could get out of bed. His right leg wasn’t cooperating with his left leg; there had been a little neurological damage after all.
“He’s young and in good health,” the doctor assured Lily, “we’ll have him back on his feet again.”

He was in the hospital for another few weeks; waiting for his bones to set. Lily stayed until she was sure that her son was on the road to recovery and then returned to New York to help look after her second grandchild – a girl born while her uncle David was still lingering on the borders between life and death.

Starsky took stock of his situation. He'd been out cold for a month he didn't need to be told that the bandaging on his torso was not as tight a fit as it had been when it was put on.
He decided to make a few tests of his own. He took a deep breath. Fingers first, I think; Right hand? All present and correct. Left hand (please God, I promise I'll observe every holiday; please...)...phew; well it won't hurt me to starve for 24 hrs once a year; I managed it last year after all.

He rested again for a while and then went back to concentrating on his legs that were hidden under the covers. At least he hoped they were. He moved his right hand gingerly and lifted the covers. Yep, there they were; he concentrated hard and was amazed to see a slight movement in a big toe - the pain told him how dumb he had been to try. Well at least I know that one works...now for the other....
Fuck! Tears ran down his cheek; tears of pain fear and frustration.

He couldn't resist making sure that everything else was still there too - all those tubes were beginning to worry him. All present and correct...well I'll check that out later - hope there's a pretty nurse in this joint. The door opened and the answer to his earlier wish came in. This nurse was a doll...slim; fair hair in a pony tail; pretty hazel eyes...Starsky thought lewd thoughts and grinned in secret relief.
"I've come to check your catheter"
Oh shit!
She pulled back the covers and smiled - "I see you are feeling better!"
"Uh... I... uh...I just woke up, guess I must have been dreaming..."
"Sweet dreams!"
"Better than the nightmares my leg is giving me."
"Oh. I see. I'll ask the doctor to come and explain things to you."
"Why is it that I don't like the sound of that?"

The doctor was reassuring. "Your leg will be OK in time. One of the bullets came close to your spinal column and there's still a little pressure on the cord...and when your heart stopped the blood supply to the brain was interrupted – that may have compromised something too. That leg has been badly damaged in the past hasn’t it? I saw the bone scars on your X-rays; when did that happen?"
"Nam. Doc? Even Hutch doesn't know how bad that was..."
"Your secret is safe with me...I'm impressed though - you obviously keep fit and you are a first class cop."
"Mind over matter I guess. Plus I had good care."
"Well you'll be going to the military rehab when you've healed, so I guess you know what to expect."
"I'll tell Hutch ...no Huggy to bring me food parcels!"
“Close your eyes – I want to do a little test.” Starsky closed his eyes obediently – he had a feeling he knew what was coming and he crossed his fingers.
The doctor took the end of his stethoscope and slid it along the sole of Starsky’s foot. There was no reaction; he tried again. A toe moved.
“What did you feel, David?”
“Nothing. What was I supposed to feel?”
“I stimulated the sole of your foot twice. The first time there was no reaction” Starsky sighed and closed his eyes. “But the second time, there was a weak reflex shown in your toe.”
“So, I wasn’t too good at biology in school, I only listened to the bit about the rabbit. What does it mean?”
“It means that I think your leg is going to recover. But it’s going to take a long time and hard work in Rehab.”
“How long?”
“I can’t say; it rather depends on your determination. You are young, fit - it’s going to be a case of how long it takes your nerves to remember how to tell your muscles what to do.”

Starsky looked at him - his deep blue eyes seemed to penetrate the doctor’s consciousness.
“Just one more question doc.”
“Yes?”
“Was that the good news; or the bad news?”
“Let’s see what the X-rays say.”
Starsky lay on the X-ray table and obeyed the orders to hold his breath and not move while the technician took the slides of his arm, shoulder and torso.
He lay back in pain while the shots were developed.
The doctor came back with the X-rays and put them onto the viewing lamp.

“I want to take another shot of your back - I think we may have better news than I thought.”
Gently the nurse helped Starsky roll over onto his side so that the technician could focus on the base of his spine.
“Breathe in; don’t breathe,” the machine buzzed; “you can breathe out now.”
Starsky rolled back and lay still, waiting for the next photo to arrive on the reading lamp.

What did he see? Please God; let it be good news. I’m too scared to go through this without Hutch!

The doctor studied the X-ray for what seemed to Starsky like a half hour.
“David; you’ll be back on your feet sooner than I thought. There is a lot of bruising on your spinal column and the pressure is on the main nerve to your leg. I’m going to put you under, and relieve the pressure. You’ll still need rehab for the other leg; but…”
“But I might not need a candy-apple red wheelchair!”
Starsky laughed with relief before moaning as the pain reasserted itself.
He watched as the doctor prepared a syringe to prep him for surgery.
“I really hate those things, doc; ever since some nut tried to kill me with one.”
“Just hold out your arm. Now I want you to start counting down from one hundred.”
“Hundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…nine..ty…sicsh…ni…ni..ninety fi….”
By the time the gurney was out in the corridor Starsky was fast asleep

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

Starsky was lying half propped up; when he heard the door open he tried to turn his face into the pillows that were puffed up around his head. He wasn't quick enough and Dobey saw the glistening trail of a tear on the young man's cheek.
He sat down gently and took Starsky's hand. "Are you hurting, son?"
"Yeah. I had a painkiller but...it's not just my body that hurts...it's my whole being. I'm scared Captain...I'm really scared because this time I don't think I'll be back on the beat."
"Come on Starsky; you always bounce back eventually."
"Not this time...not if I'm not gonna be able to walk again."
Dobey stared at him. "What?"
"I can't feel one of my legs. Doc says it’ll get better but…. They're gonna transfer me to Veterans Rehab in a coupla days..." he sniffed...
"I guess I'll just have to paint the wheelchair candy apple red!"

Dobey sat speechless for a second. He looked at Starsky who was leaning back on his pillows and making a feeble attempt to wipe his nose with a finger.
Dobey took a Kleenex and gently wiped Starsky's face.
"Listen to me Starsky; you are not going to end up in a wheelchair - and that's an order!" Starsky turned a lop-sided grin at the fat man sitting next to him.
"OK, Cap'n; for once I'll try to follow orders - but we have to make a deal, OK?
"Shoot.
"I make a big effort to walk out of rehab; and you lose twenty pounds.”
“I already lost a few worrying about you…but you’re right, if I don’t lose some weight it’s gonna be me in the hospital.”
“Deal; and our secret.”
“The doctor says your internal damage is mending nicely but you’re going to have to be patient…bones heal in their own time and nothing you can do will speed that up. Relax and let your body heal.”
Dobey sensed that there was more on Starsky’s mind; “your record doesn’t tell everything about the injury in ‘Nam, does it son?”
Starsky looked at him calmly – a calm that Dobey usually expected to announce the storm; no storm came
“No. I didn’t want anyone to know…especially my mom. When they got me to the field hospital I had to fight them to stop them taking the leg off there and then. They shipped me out direct to a hospital ship…the two surgeons had this big argument over my bed; one wanted to take it off and the other said it could be saved.
Lucky for me the second guy won. I had all kinds of surgery – mostly on the knee – and by the time I got to Hawaii it felt like they’d cut it off and sewn it back on again. The surgeon was a great seamstress – the scars on my knee are so fine you can hardly see ‘em – and well I have nice hairy legs to cover the rest.
I was in that place for six months…yeah, I know the record shows two months…that’s ‘cos I found a pretty lady in the records department and…uh…charmed her into changing things. Six months of slowly learning to walk again. I had a couple more ops along the way too. If I did it back then I guess I can do it now.”
What could Dobey say? He knew that Starsky kept a lot of things to himself, but this…
“Well the rehab worked didn’t it? I hear you can still out-run most of the force if you put your mind to it”
“Yeah…and sometimes I pay for it later…but I have something that eases the pain. And I have Hutch to keep an eye on – that’s what’ll drive me Cap’n knowing that the Blond Blintz wouldn’t survive in the jungle without me.” He winked and smiled. “Only kidding; he does just fine on his own. He brought in the bastard that wanted me dead, after all.”
The ‘phone rang on the night stand and Starsky reached painfully over to answer it. Dobey knew better than to help him.
“Hi, mom….getting better…yes mom…Mom? …I’ll call you Friday, I promise…” He blew a kiss into the mouth piece. “..I promise…shalom momma.”
“You’re lucky to have her Dave, she loves you.”

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

As a veteran Starsky had the right to be admitted to the VA rehabilitation unit – generally considered to be one of the best in California. The therapists would be tough with him – but if he was going to walk again he had to follow orders. Those few seconds when the oxygen didn’t make it to his brain had taken their toll; not just his leg, but his right arm too. He arrived in a wheelchair; a drab gray standard issue wheelchair.

Veterans' Rehab...Starsky was effectively back under army rules and regulations!
He was wheeled into his room and helped into bed. The nurse explained his daily routine for the next week or two. Two hours of physiotherapy in the morning. One hour of exercises to back it up. Lunch at mid-day. Another couple of hours of treatment in the afternoon; followed by exercise and a massage. Lights out at nine-thirty.
"When will I be able to fit in a little R&R?"
"That is not what you are in here for officer!"
"Whoooo!"

It was kind of funny though. The last time he'd been in one of these places he was a simple GI; no rank, no privileges - except that he was considered a 'hero' and so he got a little more TLC than some of the others. Plus there had been Dr. Laurence!
This time he was in as a veteran and as a cop in active service...and he had a Police rank that got him officer treatment.

Starsky was still trying to figure out how best to get around the situation when the door opened and a big muscular guy came in. He was bald and built like the Hulk; except he was black not green. He wore a white tank top and white jogging pants which exaggerated the effect of his muscles. Starsky felt like the proverbial beach-side wimp compared to this guy.
"Officer Starsky?"
"That's me!"
"I'm Bill and I'm your physiotherapist." Starsky dismissed all fantasies of a lithe blonde helping him with his rehab.
"I've come to assess you leg and arm and see what we need to do."
"Great. Hey, be gentle, I'm ticklish."
Bill drew back the bed covers and looked at Starsky's leg. "Looks OK to me; you're pretty strong, aren’t you? How much do you work against in the gym?"
"I never work in the gym. I run (but don't tell my partner) I chase bad guys; I play a little tennis and swim sometimes."
"OK, how much do you weigh?"
"Hundred sixty five....well normally I do anyways. I guess after what those guys did to me and the hospital food I might have lost a bit"
"OK, I'll weigh you down in the gym. That way I can figure out what to pitch you against. Have you tried to stand on your own yet?"
Starsky looked away.
This guy seems straight up; I guess I can trust him
He turned back to Bill. "To be honest, I've been too scared to find out if I can or not. I reckon with you here to catch me...."
""That's what I'm here for. Listen, I've looked in your file; you've been through one hell of a bad time. I'm here to help you, not bully you. So what do you say we see if you can stand up on your own? I'll be right here to catch you, OK?"
Starsky took a deep breath and nodded.
"One other thing, Dave; you call me Bill. Now sit up properly...I'm not going to help you here..."
Starsky sat up and swallowed hard.
"Don't be ashamed to yell."
"Thanks!"
"Now, swing your left leg and then the right over the edge of the bed. Take your time and concentrate..."
"Starsky slid the left leg over the edge of the bed with no difficulty. He frowned with concentration as he willed his right leg to follow; then fell back on the pillow in disgust. He was fighting back the tears.
"It's OK Dave, let it go if you want; I expected that...I just wanted to see how determined you are. So let's see what this leg will and won’t do with or without your help?"
Bill took Starsky's ankle and gently pushed it up and back to bend the knee.
"Try to resist me, OK?"
Starsky willed his muscles to push against Bill's strong pressure.
"That's great man, what did you feel?"
"Frustrated! I didn't feel a fucking thing, if you must know."
"Don't worry. You were resisting me hard - even if you couldn't feel it. Ok now I'm going to try the opposite. You push your foot away and I'll keep the leg bent."
Once again Starsky closed his eyes and willed his foot down. He felt a slight flicker in the thigh muscle. He opened his eyes and Bill grinned at him reassuringly.
"You felt something that time, didn't you?"
"Yeah...I mean...I think so...it kinda flickered."
"Next stage; are you ready?"
"Go for it!"
"OK, I'm not going to help you this time; you're on your own. Bend your knee."
"Starsky closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He felt something; but it was a weird sensation.
"Ok that's fine. Want to see what you did?"
Starsky opened his eyes warily; the knee was slightly bent and his foot had moved maybe two inches back. He grinned.
“What about my arm?”
“Oh I’ll sort that out, no problem. That's enough for now. Of course if you want to practice and show off to me tomorrow; it’s up to you man. I'll see you tomorrow at ten...in the gym!"
"Get the weights ready."

Starsky watched Bill leave and lay back. He was still scared; but he knew that he was going to make it. Bill's method was so different from what he'd gone through the last time he'd been in this place. Back then, they'd hauled him out of bed and put him on a kind of ramp with parallel handrails and left him there until he took a step. He'd stood unsteadily for a half hour before they took pity on him.

He stared at his foot.
OK, let's see if I can do it on my own.

When Hutch came to visit him the next morning he found Starsky propped up against the pillows with a magazine resting on his two bent knees.
Starsky grinned up at his friend. "I cheated a little, but I did most of it myself."
He pushed back the covers; "Watch this," he said and Hutch saw him slide his right foot so that his leg started to straighten again. Starsky pushed his knee a little to help things along.

"Hey man, I thought I told you to be in the gym at ten am! You’re in an army facility here, Officer!"
Starsky sketched a mocking salute and Bill laughed. "Well I guess five minutes is nothing!" "Watch this!" Starsky slowly lowered his left leg to the floor and then dragged the right leg across the bed. He set his feet a few inches apart and pushed himself up off the bed with his free hand. He swayed slightly and Bill put out a steadying hand.
"No! If I fall, catch me."
He stood for a second and then took a deep breath. He leaned slightly to the right to put his weight on his good leg and lifted his left foot. He fell backwards onto the bed and swore.
"Don’t try to run before you can walk, Dave." Bill told him.
"I’m not trying to run; I just want to fucking walk! Sorry, it’s not your fault. I’m stubborn that’s all."
He hauled himself to his feet again and this time he let Bill guide him to the wheelchair.
“Catch you later, Blondie!”
Hutch grinned and went back to work.

Down in the gym Starsky was installed on a seat with his feet on the weight press. Bill had loaded it to 20lbs and Starsky was pumping away slowly, his teeth gritted with grim determination.
"Wait a minute," Bill stopped him, "right leg only now."
Starsky lowered his left leg out of the way and pushed - the weights only got halfway up the pulley this time. He gritted his teeth and pushed again; and again and again until he was pumping slowly but strongly. Bill left him to go on exercising for another few minutes.
Starsky was so determined to get back on his feet that he wasn’t bothered by the aches and pains that he knew he’d have later. After a while Bill came over and released him. He led Starsky to a flat couch and told him to lie on his back. Bill started to massage his legs, easing the knotted muscles and helping them to relax.

"If you carry on like this you’ll be out of here in no time; but don’t overdo it Dave."
"You don’t understand. I have to get out of here.”
He looked across the room and saw the familiar parallel handrails. He nodded towards the apparatus. "Get me over there, will ya please, Bill?"
"Rest now and do it this afternoon."
"Now!" Starsky barked and Bill could tell that there would be no point in arguing.

Starsky stood with his left hand on the rail; his right arm hung by his side and he forced himself to place the hand on the other rail. He put his weight on his right foot and lifted the left. He took a step forward and grinned. He put his weight on his left foot and bit his lower lip then moved his right foot. He staggered slightly, but he made it. Bill watched Starsky’s mouth grinding in concentration as he slowly walked the length of the ramp. He managed to turn himself around and started to walk back. After a couple of steps he took his hands off the rails.

He turned to grin at Bill and nearly lost his balance. "Fuck!" He steadied himself and did a couple more return trips. After five minutes he was walking a little unsteadily, but without support.
Bill grinned at him. "Dave, you are the toughest bastard I ever had to deal with! Man you are amazing! I’d reckoned on a couple of days before you could get this far."
"Aries. Stubborn as a ram; I just keep butting my head against things until I get my own way! Now we have to work on my using a stick - right?"
"Right. How tall are you?"
"Five eleven; why?
"So I can get the stick to the right length. Do you want an elbow crutches or sticks?"
Starsky noted the use of the plural and swallowed hard. Damn tears come so easily right now!
"What do you think is best?"
Bill considered for a second. "I think you should use elbow crutches for a couple of days and then see how you get on with a stick; you’re still weak remember. Wait there and I’ll go find one for you."
Starsky took another little stroll along the ramp. He was aware that someone was watching him.

A young soldier was sitting working his arm muscles; he was staring at the way Starsky walked.
"Hey man, sorry I’m not a pretty blond, but I can’t help the way I wiggle - that’s a souvenir from my last stay here."
The boy smiled. "I wasn’t thinking of that - I was thinking how lucky you are."
Starsky looked again - the kid had no legs.
"Yeah;" he said softly, "I guess I am. But hey, they can do pretty good stuff these days …you’ll probably be on fake feet before you know it."
The boy smiled. "Thanks. I feel better already."

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

It was a long hard haul; but he made it and soon he was back home; taking one day at a time and slowly preparing himself for his first medical review board. Hutch had offered to come and stay but Starsky had brushed him off gruffly. “I don’t need a nurse-maid.”

And then he had another setback.
He woke up in pain…he was lying in a pool of blood. He managed to dial Hutch’s number before he lost consciousness.
Hutch had been there before – a call in the middle of the night and a frantic ambulance ride with Starsky fading visibly.
Starsky was in hospital for another two weeks; he had overdone things and ruptured the wound in his gut.

Then it happened. The darkness closed in – but this time he was totally conscious. This time he embraced it.
Hutch found him. He was sitting on the bed staring blankly into space and rocking gently. He didn’t respond when Hutch spoke to him.

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

Hutch had never seen him like this; oh sure, Starsky had his dark side, the side that after all these years Hutch still qualified as ‘mysterious’, but this time he’d closed up completely. The normally loquacious Starsky had not spoken a word for nearly six weeks. Not so much as a ‘yes-no-please-thank you’. Just silence and a blank stare. The blank stare was something else too. Starsky had a way of communicating with his deep blue eyes that had got them out of trouble more than once. He could transmit a whole sentence to Hutch with a glance; Hutch could read him most of the time. His mind went back to when Van had been found dead in his apartment. Starsky had arrived and poured him a stiff drink, told him to drink it and asked him what happened – without actually uttering a word. Later he’d arrived to execute the arrest warrant; he’d insisted on handcuffing Hutch to the guy from IA and with a movement of his eyes indicated that in no way was he going to take his partner in. They’d left the other guy cuffed to the kitchen table.

In times of pain and in times of laughter, Starsky’s eyes were always alive and expressive; and now they were blank. “The eyes are the window of the soul”; Hutch had read that somewhere – well right now it looked like even Starsky’s soul had been switched off. As Starsky might have said; ‘the lights are on but there’s nobody home.’

Now those deep blue eyes were blank and stared out from above a thickly bearded gaunt face.

Hutch went to visit him every day. He sat for hours in silence watching as Starsky mechanically placed another piece of puzzle. He always started at the top. The shrink had noted this methodical approach and asked Hutch about Starsky’s approach to life.
“Would you say that he is organized?” Hutch hadn’t needed a second to reply. “Starsky is one of the neatest people I ever met; if that’s what you need to know. He goes about most things in a logical way – unless he’s working on some hunch or instinct.”
“I see. Thank you Sergeant.” And that was the end of the interview. Hutch still didn’t know if the shrink had the information he needed.

Then the shrink had asked to visit Starsky’s apartment. He said he wanted to see what was important in his patient’s life. Hutch had taken him over there and stood back while the doctor made a quick tour of the apartment. Hutch had only had been a couple of times since the shooting. Once, at Starsky’s request to take the stuff out of the fridge, the fruit bowl and the vegetable rack. “Use what you want and throw the rest out, OK.” The second time had been to throw together a few clothes and stuff for Starsky when he was transferred to the clinic.

Now he stood in the apartment and tried to see what the doctor might be seeing. A neat, tidy, clean apartment that showed its owner’s eclectic tastes. On a table there was a lamp with a beautiful Mexican pottery base, a bowl for fruit and a Menorah. The pictures on the walls included a girlie calendar from an Italian tire manufacturer, a series of vintage cars, a couple of modern paintings, and a sketch of a woman that Hutch had a hunch Starsky had drawn – he’d never asked, and he’d never been told.
In pride of place was the wrecked clay bust of Starsky – a reminder of a case where he’d accidentally blinded a young woman. The doctor stood and stared at it for a while and said nothing.
On the bureau stood one of Starsky’s model ships – a full-rigged galleon; in his mind’s eye Hutch saw himself handing Starsky a reel of cotton and a needle while his friend concentrated on the rigging and pretended that he wasn’t hurting. “Does he have any particular hobbies?” The shrink’s voice brought Hutch back to the present.
“Yes. He loves photography; he has a really good Nikon.” Hutch went over to the coat-stand and found the camera hanging beneath Starsky’s blue windcheater. He handed it to the doctor who turned it over appreciatively in his hands. “This is not exactly the amateur version.”
“No, if Starsk wants to do something he wants to do it properly; and he’s willing to pay for the best equipment.”

The doctor had spotted the Menorah. “Interesting. Is that purely decorative or does he use it?” Hutch smiled at the memory. “Yes, he uses it. A couple of years ago he gave me a lesson in comparative religion while he was lighting the candles!”
The doctor continued his tour. “…almost compulsively neat…wide range of tastes…traditionalist…but a little unconventional at times…ah; what’s this?” He stopped in front of Starsky’s latest modeling project.
It was a small sloop. Starsky had been working on it the day they were called out to deal with what should have been a routine hold-up situation. In theory it was their day off; Hutch had dropped by to see if Starsky felt like going to see a movie and found his friend carefully drawing shapes on a sheet of balsa wood preparatory to cutting them with firm confident strokes with a modeling knife. “What are you making this time?” Starsky had replied by singing the Beach Boys song ‘Sloop John B’. Hutch had laughed and joined in with the harmony line…they both pooped out when they realized that they would never hit the top notes.

Now Hutch looked at the sheet of balsa and the knife; it gave him an idea.
“Doctor Friedman?”
“Yes.”
“Starsky loves making models; could we maybe take this to him?”
Friedman hesitated; Hutch could see that he was assessing the knife and its possible uses. “We don’t usually allow our patients to have anything …dangerous…”
“You haven’t seen his shaving kit yet, doc!” Hutch grinned. “Seriously though; can’t he be allowed to use it under supervision or something? Starsky really loves making his models and it’s been a kind of therapy to him in the past.”
Friedman hesitated; “well all right, I’ll make sure that he is supervised. To be honest I don’t think he’d try to harm himself anyway. Now what’s so special about his shaving kit?”
Hutch showed him. Friedman said nothing. The shaving kit stayed where it was.

So now Hutch was sitting in Starsky’s room watching him finish yet another jigsaw puzzle. Friedman had decided to keep the model for a therapy session.
Starsky grunted in disgust as he realized that he had wrongly placed a piece of the puzzle. Hutch waited for the explosion and sure enough the puzzle went flying across the room. Starsky slumped back onto the pillows and a tear ran down his face. Hutch touched his arm and Starsky flinched away.
This was the pattern. Starsky would show some sign of emotion and Hutch would try to reach out to him; only to be rejected. Hutch stood up and began to gather the scattered pieces of cardboard. Starsky stared into space and made no move to help.
While Hutch was still picking up the pieces of puzzle (and wishing that he was picking up the pieces of Starsky’s mind) an orderly came in to announce lunch. Hutch glanced at the bed – no reaction.
The orderly shrugged. “Either you come down and eat or you go without. If you won’t eat you’re back on the tube.”
Starsky closed his eyes and turned his face to the pillow.
“I hate to have to do it to you; but we’ll be back later with the feeding tube.”
Hutch stopped him as he went out. “How long has it been going on this time?”
“Forty eight hours; it’s the limit; either he comes to eat, or he’s on the tube.”
“Isn’t there something I can do? Why don’t you bring him a tray; I’ll see if I can get him to eat…I’ll even try to feed him.”
The orderly shook his head. “I don’t see why you should succeed where we can’t; but OK…”
Ten minutes later Hutch was holding a forkful of meatloaf out to Starsky. He had to admit it smelled good – amazingly good for meatloaf; incredibly good for hospital meatloaf. “Come on Starsk…Dave, since when did you refuse gourmet meatloaf?”
Starsky didn’t move. He stared into space. Hutch felt that he was staring through him rather than past him. He put down the fork sat on the bed and tried to look Starsky in the eye. He leveled his face directly in front of his partner’s and focused on the familiar blue eyes in front of him. He recoiled. Starsky showed no sign of recognition; if Hutch hadn’t seen him doing the jigsaw he would have believed Starsky to be blind.
“Oh buddy; oh Starsky where are you? What pain are you in that you won’t even let me in there to help you?”
Starsky continued to stare at him; and then he turned away.
I don’t know if I can trust you any more.

Hutch patted his cheek and returned to his chair. When the orderly returned he took one look at the tray and sighed. “The doctor will be along in a few minutes…he’ll tube him.”

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

Dr Friedman was an avuncular man in his late fifties. He’d worked with trauma victims during the Viet Nam war and had made a specialty of it ever since. His clinic was well-respected and the Police Department had even recommended it to victims of rape or other attacks who needed a little therapy to get over their experiences. Starsky and Hutch had met him a couple of years ago when he had taken over the care of Lieutenant Slate’s daughter Leslie after she had been raped and her father had been arrested. Hutch had shown a certain wariness of Friedman’s profession but Starsky had laughed it off. “Don’t take any notice of him, Doc. He’s just an uptight WASP who believes in self-help. Now me; I’m your average semi-neurotic Jewish boy who loves his momma too much and would give old Siggy hours of entertainment!”

Friedman had been impressed by the two cops who had brought Leslie Slate to him. The young woman had been raped; her mother was long dead and her father, a Police Captain, had been arrested for trying to kill the rapist. Starsky had led the girl into his office; his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him protectively. Hutch had kept his distance – as Starsky had said; there was a chill air of Protestantism in his demeanor as far as Friedman was concerned. Friedman had already taken Hutch’s measure and seen that the blond cop was not as self-confident as he liked to appear. The dark cop, however, intrigued him. He came across as bluff and naïf; but his intelligence shone out of his eyes like the beam from a lighthouse.

Now Starsky was in Friedman’s care.

When he’d been called to Memorial to assess a case of post-traumatic shock the last person he expected to see lying in the bed was Detective Sergeant Dave Starsky.
He checked the chart. All the indicators were that Starsky should be up and out of bed and probably clamoring to be allowed to go home. Instead he had been lying in silence for a week, refusing to respond to any one and hardly ever eating. He was thin and his face was pale and drawn. He looked as if he’d been through Hell and back. Friedman knew that he was going to have to find out what that particular Hell had been. He had arranged for Starsky to be transferred to his clinic immediately.

Now, nearly a month later Friedman still had not broken through the wall that Starsky had built around his psyche; and worse, the young man frequently refused to eat.

Hutch stood up as Friedman came into the room.
“Are you really going to tube-feed him, doctor?”
“I’m afraid so…” he turned to Starsky, “unless you are willing to cooperate, David.”
Starsky didn’t react.
“I think it would be better if you left now, Hutch. Tube feeding can be pretty distressing – for the feeders as well as the patient.”
“That sounds like a good reason for me to stay with him. I’m his best friend, even if right now he doesn’t seem to care if I’m here or not.”
“Very well. But please, whatever happens, don’t try to intervene.”
Hutch nodded his assent and returned to his chair.

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

Dobey was having a tough time with the Chief of Police.
“I’m sorry Dobey, but that is the regulation; Hutchinson must be allocated a temporary partner. I really can not see why you are so opposed; after all Meredith worked with Starsky easily enough while Hutchinson was hospitalized. Please make it plain to Hutchinson that he does not have a choice in this, and that if he wishes to object he knows where my office is. As far as I am concerned, the matter is closed. Meredith and Hutchinson go out on the streets together as of this afternoon.”
“But you don’t understand how it is between Starsky and Hutch.”
The Chief raised an eyebrow. He had been appointed as an emergency replacement when his predecessor had died suddenly of a heart attack; he hoped that come the next elections he’d be confirmed in the post and he was busy asserting his reputation as a no-nonsense Chief of Police who got results and who ran a tight ship. He had heard that these two detectives were very close. “Are you implying….”
“It’s nothing like that! Those guys are very close friends, that’s all. They’ve worked together so long they operate almost like one person. Plus, there’s something you don’t know. When Meredith and Starsky worked together they…uh…uh… Hutch might not have the same rapport with her that’s all.”
“Or on the other hand, from what I’ve heard about him when it comes to his partner’s girlfriends, he might. In any case, they are a team as of this afternoon two pm. Make sure that Hutchinson is present when Meredith reports on duty. And Dobey, that’s an order!”

Dobey sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. This was not going to be easy…not one little bit. He went into the squad room in the vain hope that Hutch might be there.
Minnie looked up from the filing drawer where she was working. “He’s with Starsky, Captain. Apparently there’s been another incident.”
Dobey returned to his office via the candy machine. He was unwrapping the candy bar while he dialed.
“Friedman Clinic; how can I help you?”
“I need to speak to detective Hutchinson; this is Captain Dobey speaking.”
“Oh, Hutch; I’ll page him for you.”

Hutch was sitting in his chair and watching as Starsky was being fed through a tube in his nose. He’d never seen the procedure before and could well understand why it was used as a form of torture in some countries. Friedman had started by showing Starsky the tube and explaining that it would be passed through his nose down into his esophagus and down to his stomach thus enabling the direct introduction of nutrition to Starsky’s system. Starsky had blinked and turned his face to the pillow.
Friedman called for the nurse and orderly to help him. As Starsky struggled the two of them managed to hold him in position and Friedman introduced the tube.
“If you struggle it will be worse, David. You know what to do; swallow and relax.”
Starsky looked at him and for a second Hutch was sure that he saw pure hatred flash in his friend’s eyes. Starsky suddenly went limp and Friedman started the feeding process. He started to pour a protein solution into the funnel at the end of the feeding tube. The nurse held the funnel up so that the liquid would run down the tube and into Starsky’s stomach. Starsky gagged.
There was a knock at the door and a nurse came in to tell Hutch that Dobey was on the ‘phone.
“Tell him I’ll call back.”
“He says it’s urgent.”
Hutch took her to one side. “When Starsky and I don’t want to hear our Captain we pretend that the radio isn’t working. I am asking you to pretend you couldn’t find me; OK? Say you think maybe I’m in the men’s room, anything…tell him that you will ask me to call him back immediately.”
She nodded her head and slipped out of the room.
Hutch went over to the bedside and took Starsky’s hand in his.
“I’m right here Starsk.” He got no reaction.
Friedman interrupted the feeding until his patient had calmed down again. When the contents of the bottle had run their course Friedman leaned towards Starsky and said gently. “It doesn’t have to be like this David.” He withdrew the tube as gently as he could and handed it to the nurse.
“Give him a sedative and let him sleep.” He beckoned to Hutch and then turned back to Starsky. “I’ll be back to see you in a little while, David; try to rest for now.”
Starsky remained as expressionless as before.

Hutch followed Friedman out of the room. “Doc; for a moment there…I thought…oh…I…uh….”
“So did I Hutch; I think for a second he let his barrier down. I guess you’d better call Dobey.”
Hutch went over to the nurses station and was about to take the ‘phone when the messenger looked up. “Captain Dobey left a message. He said that you are to report to his office immediately. Oh and Hutch, he said that if you took that long in the can you must either be sick or trying to avoid him!”

Hutch didn’t really want to leave the clinic without checking up on Starsky one more time. He peered around the door and saw that his friend was asleep; he felt better about leaving him.

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

Watch out behind you man...the gooks are everywhere...wait up...I can't let them hurt that kid...Joe? Ricky? Hey guys, wher'd'ya go?
Why's it all black in here?
My legs...oh my God...momma...I want my mom...help me ...I can't see....
"His pulse rate is up again doctor."
"Give him another couple of CCs of diazepam to calm him."
"It's slowing to normal again."
No please...don't cut it off…please...no...no....

His screams brought the nurse running and she gave him another dose of sedative.

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

“How is he?” Dobey asked before Hutch had even the chance to sit down.
“I don’t know Captain. He still doesn’t say anything. He threw a tantrum with a puzzle – but just stared blankly all the time. He’s refusing to eat again and I watched them tube feed him…” Hutch’s voice broke off as he tried to control his emotions. “He tried to fight it off...why wouldn’t he want to eat?”
Dobey didn’t want to think about that one.
“Hutch, I have an order from Chief Pearson. You are to report at two this afternoon to go out with a new partner.”
Hutch opened his mouth to protest but Dobey continued. “Pearson says that it’s a direct order from him and if you have a complaint you have to go to him. I don’t recommend that Hutch; the mood he’s in he’ll suspend you at the slightest excuse.”
Hutch considered that for a moment. Suspended, even on half pay, he could at least spend time trying to help Starsky to come back.
“Don’t even consider it Hutch! I need you on this case. Leave Starsky to the doctor for a while. Now I guess you want to know who your new…”
“Temporary!” Hutch interrupted vehemently.
“…your temporary partner is.”
Hutch nodded glumly. The thought of having to work with anyone but Starsky filled him with a reluctance that bordered on fear. He could trust the “Me and Thee” thing with Starsk - but with anyone else…?
“It’s Meredith.” Dobey said.
“Meredith? You mean…oh boy, maybe it’s a good thing Starsky isn’t communicating right now!”
Dobey smiled and nodded. “I don’t really know what went down between those two.”
“I do; Captain. Believe me; this is going to be interesting.”

The Pits was bustling as usual at mid-day. Huggy was transporting a tray laden with four plates piled high with burgers and fries. Angel was preparing sandwiches and Anita was managing to serve four different people at the same time. Hutch found a stool and waited for her to notice him. Huggy arrived behind the bar and came to Anita’s rescue. When he had finished with the regular customers he turned to Hutch.
“What can I get you my man?”
“A beer, I guess and maybe a sandwich; I don’t know.”
Huggy looked at him carefully. “Still no change, huh?” Hutch shook his head wearily.
“No; and he isn’t eating again. I watched them tube feed him, Hug; it was terrible…he tried to resist but then he just….” He took a long swallow of beer. The memory of Starsky with a tube in his nose and showing absolutely no reaction to what was happening to him haunted Hutch. “And now you won’t believe what the Chief has done.”
Huggy nodded. “He’s ordered me to go out there with another cop; and guess which cop.”
Huggy raised his eyebrows.
“Meredith! Can you believe that Hug? They’ve put me with Meredith. And after what she and Starsk had going! If he finds out he’ll think I’ve done it deliberately”
Huggy grinned. “And you reckon she’s gonna be over the moon about having to work with you after what you said to her?”
“Hey, all I said was she shouldn’t have parked right outside Train’s place…even a rookie should have known better!”

At one fifty-five precisely, Meredith was sitting in Dobey’s office. At two fifteen Hutch came into the room. Good manners dictated that he shake hands with Meredith. He obeyed his upbringing. Meredith smiled and returned the compliment. Her handshake was firm and warm; Hutch pulled his hand away. He didn’t say anything.

“Chief Pearson expects you two to work together without problems.” Dobey said.
“I see no problem, Captain.” Meredith shot a smile at Hutch as she answered. Hutch found he couldn’t resist. “No problem for me either Captain.”
“OK. The hold-ups are still happening; and I want you two to put an end to them.”
Out of habit, Hutch stood up to go to his desk; Meredith followed and installed herself at Starsky’s desk. Hutch glared at her.
“Come and sit here.“ He said pulling a chair next to him. She took her place.
“I don’t want to replace him Hutch; just like I didn’t want to replace you when I worked with Dave…how is he?”
“He’s…he’s…he’s not Starsky. I don’t know what’s happening to him. It hurts to see him like that.”
“Who else visits him?”
“The usual gang: Dobey and his wife, Huggy, and a few other friends. He doesn’t seem to even notice we’re there.”
She didn’t push the point.

After he had brought in Gunther, Hutch had gone back to more routine detective work. His last assignment had been dealing with a series of hold-ups. During the last one a cop had been shot. In the confusion the robbers had managed to escape and so far, six weeks later there were still no leads as to who they were.

And then Starsky had gone silent.

To add insult to injury they had pulled off two more capers since the shooting. One was across the County line in Ventura County and the other one was in the heart of the city’s business area.
Hutch had to admit that he had been so preoccupied with Starsky’s condition that he had not taken much notice of the two other incidents. Meredith, it seemed, had at least read the reports.
“What I don’t understand is how they just appear and disappear like this.” She said to Hutch. “I mean no-one seems to know who they are or where they come from; and they always manage to escape.”
Hutch studied the file. He stared at the page in front of him; but all he could really see was a cop lying on the floor of a grocery store; and the image melted into Starsky on the ground by the Torino with three bullet wounds in his back. He tried to focus on the hold-up and make some sense of what Meredith had just said.
“I don’t remember hearing a car.”
“Excuse me?”
Hutch looked at her with distaste; Starsky would have understood.
“Hey; it’s not my fault I can’t read your mind!”
“I’m sorry but…”
“Yea, yea; Starsky wouldn’t have asked – he’d just know – blah blah. Don’t you think I had enough of that from him when you were out of it?”
“Sorry.”
“Mmm. You were saying?”
“I don’t remember hearing a car. I mean, if they had a getaway vehicle I don’t remember hearing its motor running – or taking off.
“Are you saying that they left some other way?”
“Yes; the question is – how?”
“The last hold-up was in the business district – why don’t we go and talk to the witnesses again. Perhaps somebody saw something so obvious that they didn’t realize it was important.”
Hutch was impressed (but he couldn’t bring himself to show it). “OK come on; let’s go talk to the people who were around at the time.”

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

Friedman was sitting by the bed when Starsky woke up. His eyes opened but there was no other sign that he reacted to his surroundings. He sat up and pulled the bed tray towards him and started working on his puzzle.
He stared at each piece; turned it around in his fingers and looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. He tried a joint and when it didn’t fit he eased the two pieces apart and tried another combination. He continued until he found a fit for the piece in his hand. If there was no fit he placed it carefully along one of the borders of the tray.
Friedman watched him for about fifteen minutes. The upper border of the puzzle was almost completed; Starsky fingered one more piece and a smile flickered across his lips as he fit it into the last gap. He started to select the pieces for the left side of the border.

“David?” Friedman said gently. “David? I know you can hear me.”

Yeah I can hear you; but it doesn’t mean I have to listen.

Starsky continued sorting the pieces that should fit into the left border. He didn’t react.
“David. I want to help you. I want to help you without having to use any invasive treatments.”

God helps those who help themselves…that’s what bubba Starsky used to say…but I can’t help me right now so why does this guy think he can?

Starsky glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and then pieced together a row of six cardboard shapes. He slid the assembled sequence along the tray and fitted them to the upper border.

“David. Please leave the puzzle for a few seconds and listen to me.”

I’d leave it if I could…but I’m stuck inside it.

Starsky continued to sort another group of pieces. He stared at the tray and seemed to be concentrating. Once again he assembled another sequence and fitted it to the last one; the left border was almost completed.

Friedman touched his arm. The effect was not what he had expected. Starsky turned and looked at him; then he put his own hand on the doctor’s and lifted it away from his arm.
“OK; you don’t want me to touch you. I won’t do it again.”

Starsky completed the left border and started on the bottom of the puzzle. He rarely looked at the picture to guide him; he seemed to prefer to work it out for himself, without clues. Friedman thought of the model sloop. Hutch had told him that Starsky scorned kits; he bought a plan and the materials and made his models from scratch.

“David. Would you like to work on the sloop?”
Starsky stopped what he was doing. He held a puzzle piece in mid-air above the sequence where it would surely fit. He bit his lower lip and seemed to think for a second before continuing his puzzle. If I could get it together in my head – then I’d tell him. But right now I can’t get it straight.

Friedman left the room. If he was going to get through to Starsky he needed to find something that would hook the younger man’s interest. He was beginning to wonder what he could ever find to distract him from the jigsaw puzzle.
A week earlier he had tried to take away the puzzles; to stop Starsky from continuing his compulsive behavior. The result had been distressing for everyone. Starsky had ended up in a straightjacket and had been forcibly tube fed for three days. At least this time he had not really resisted the tube.

“Dr Friedman?” Friedman turned. A bearded man in his late forties was standing by the desk. Friedman went over to him. “Yes.”
The other man held out his hand. “I’m Jonathan Stern; I’ve been away for a while and I’ve just found out that David is here.”
“Yes, yes he’s here; in fact he’s been here for some time. Are you a friend of the family?”
“I’m his friend. I guess I’m his Rabbi.”
Friedman took this in. “Come to my office Rabbi; I think we should talk.”

“David first came to me a couple of years ago. He and Hutch had been protecting a ballet dancer from threats that purported to come from JOA; they discovered that the American Fascist Party was behind the threats and managed to stop any attacks on the dancer. David came to me because his real sympathies had been with JOA; he told me that he would rather have been outside the theater with a placard than inside watching Anna Akhanatovna, as he put it, prancing around on the stage. He felt a need to rekindle his spirituality a little.”
Friedman made a note of this. “I noticed the Menorah.”
“Ah yes; he’s very proud of that; his grandmother gave it to him; apparently his great grandfather was a rabbi and that Menorah came from the shtetl synagogue.”
Friedman jotted down a few more notes. Stern continued. “About a year ago, Starsky and Hutch found themselves up against the Fascist party again. This time they wanted revenge and they captured Starsky. They used a young actor who looked like Hutch to taunt Starsky. He was tortured and…and Hutch got there just in time to stop David from being gassed to death. He came to me again after that and joined the synagogue. He attends as many services as he can – and with his line of work that is not many – but he did observe Kippur with my family this year.”
“Does he confide in you?”
“Yes, he’s talked to me a great deal recently; about his fears and about his hopes; I think that he was going through a great deal of difficulty about his job and his relationships…and then….”
“And then he was shot.”
“Yes. I heard about it when I returned from a sabbatical – I’ve been in Israel; I called his Captain who told me that he was in here.”
“You didn’t call his partner; why was that?”
“I don’t know; I felt that perhaps it would be better to speak to Dobey; I can’t put my finger on why. How is he?”
“He is totally withdrawn. He won’t speak to anyone; doesn’t make eye-contact – not even with Hutch; and he has refused to eat on more than one occasion. We had to tube feed him today.”
Stern thought for a second. “May I see him?”
“Yes; perhaps you will be able to touch something that we haven’t.”

Friedman led Stern to Starsky’s room.
Starsky didn’t look up from his puzzle. The two men noticed that the picture was nearly completed. It was a seascape – expanses of shades of blue with very little to differentiate the scene.
Stern looked from the puzzle to Friedman. “Yes,” came the reply, “he does them all the time and he hardly ever refers to the picture on the box.”

Stern went over to the side of the bed.
“David? David I have been away; I am sorry to see you here. If there is anything I can do ….” He stopped. Starsky had turned his deep blue blank stare towards him – but tears were welling up in his eyes. Stern sat on the edge of the bed and took Starsky’s hand. “I’m here David; whenever you need me – I’m here.” He felt Starsky’s grip tighten for a second before the hand dropped away from his.
Starsky went back to completing the puzzle. Only a few of the pieces from the very center of the picture remained to be placed. Stern got up to leave. “No,” said Friedman, “I think you should see what happens.” The two men stood at the end of the bed and watched as Starsky fitted in the last pieces. He stared at the completed picture for a moment and then sighed before methodically breaking it up and replacing all the pieces in the box. He fitted the lid carefully and pushed the box away. Starsky leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes.

“He does that each time. He won’t do that puzzle again. It is as if he has completed a stage in is mind – but for the life of me I can’t break through to him to understand what is troubling him and why.”
They left the room.

He can’t break through! I can’t fuckin’ break through so why does he think he can?

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

Meredith was talking to a young woman who kept a flower stand just across the street from the store where the last hold-up took place.
“Think back; I know you didn’t see what happened, but think – did anything strike you as unusual that day?”
“I don’t know. I mean I had a big delivery of flowers just then; they could have taken off in a helicopter, I wouldn’t have heard a thing – not with the truck in front of my stand and the kids on the sidewalk with all their noise.”
“Why do you say…what kids?”
“Hare Krishna or whatever they call it. You know; dressed in flowing clothes and chanting the same thing over and over. What was odd, now I come to think about it…yes…they had some kind of amplifier rigged up to a tape machine and that made it sound like there were more of them.”
Meredith thanked her and looked for Hutch. She spotted him talking to the owner of the store next door to the one that had been robbed. The victim was a grocery store and the neighboring store sold greetings cards and the kind of gimmicks and gadgets that would probably have kept Starsky happy for hours…back when Starsky was behaving normally. As Meredith came over Hutch was leaving.
“Anything?”
“No, the owner isn’t in today and he was here the day of the robbery. I have his address; let’s go.”

Meredith was driving and Hutch wondered whether a canary yellow car was preferable to a candy-apple red one. They made their way from the Downtown district to the San Fernando Valley suburb where the owner lived in a comfortable ranch-style house in a leafy street.

Tom Bishop was in his workshop; his wife led Hutch and Meredith around the back of the house and called her husband. “Tom? It’s the police.” Bishop didn’t look up from what he was doing. “I guess it’s about the hold-up; come on in.”
Hutch and Meredith entered the workshop and Tom Bishop switched off the small drill that was whining in his hand. “My hobby; I sell them in the store. Each one is unique.”
Hutch looked at the workbench to see that the drill was a jig saw; Bishop was cutting a puzzle; a photo of a St Bernard dog was glued onto a sheet of thick plywood. Hutch had an idea. “If I brought you a photo, could you make a puzzle for me?”
“Sure. But that’s not why you’re here, is it?” Bishop smiled. “Can I offer you two a beer – or lemonade; I have an icebox out here.” Hutch settle for the beer, Meredith gave him an old-fashioned look and asked for lemonade.

Bishop had not heard anything until the three robbers ran out of the store next door. No, he hadn’t seen a car or van in the vicinity. No, he didn’t see them get away.
“The minute they came out of the store those Hare Krishna kids went by…”
Meredith put down her glass. “Were they chanting?” Bishop looked at her as if she had asked the proverbial stupid question. “Yes; I thought it was kinda weird that they had an amp with them though….I mean usually it’s little bells and stuff – these kids and a recording of an electric guitar – no wait; it might have been that Beatle guy’s record.”
“Enough noise to distract attention…and enough of them for the hold-up men to melt in with their crowd.” Meredith said quietly.
Hutch looked at her with approval. “Nice thinking. Let’s go check out the other scenes.” He put down the half-finished beer. “Mr. Bishop I’d like to bring you a photo and ask you to make a puzzle for a friend of mine.”
“With pleasure; drop by the store and if I’m not there, come here.”

Hutch and Meredith went back to the car.
“It’s a nice idea. What photo will you take?”
Hutch didn’t answer; instead he picked up the radio mike and contacted Metro.
“This is Zebra…this is Hutch, Mildred. I need a patch through to the Ventura County Sheriff’s office.”
The Sheriff came on the line and Hutch arranged to meet him at the liquor store that had been held-up a couple of days earlier. It didn’t take long to discover that the Hare Krishna group had been outside at the time. Meredith was almost triumphant. “That’s it; they slipped away with the crowd.”
Hutch snapped at her. “So what are you going to do, put out an APB on all the kids in flowing robes chanting Peace and Love or whatever? There are hundreds of them out there…Hare Krishna; Peace and Love; the Maharishi – you name it! Most of them genuinely believe in all that stuff; some of them are just looking for another joint.”

Meredith started the car. “So what would Supercop do if he wasn’t playing with the pieces of his mind?”
Hutch reached over and pulled the key out of the ignition. “That’s enough!” he said angrily. “I thought you had a thing going with Starsky. Now it sounds like you don’t care about what’s happened to him. Well I do care; he’s my partner and he’s my best friend and if you can’t stop yourself from making snide remarks about him shut up. I don’t care what Pearson says; I ‘m working on my own.” He handed her back the keys and got out of the car.
“Hutch; how are you going to get home?”
He ignored her – there was a bus-stop along the way and he could see from here that the line went along the coast road to Venice. He set off to catch his bus.
He didn’t go out again that day.

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

Merle looked up as Hutch drove his disreputable excuse for a car into the yard.
“Man why do you want to mess up my place with that heap of junk.”
Hutch grinned. “Pleased to see you too; Merle.”
“How’s Starsky?”
“That’s why I’m here. He’s still locked away in his own little world. I need your help.”
Hutch explained what he wanted and Merle led him into the office. As Merle was leafing through a pile of big glossy photos showing off his handiwork Hutch spotted something else. “Merle, is that some kind of a plan of a car?”
Merle looked at him like he was some kind of simple child. “Yes Hutch; it is ‘some kind of a plan’; it’s the technical drawing; shows all the parts and how they fit together. Now that is a real jigsaw puzzle.”
Hutch thought for a moment. “Would you have one of the Torino?”
“No I don’t; but I can try and get you one…why?”
“We’ll see; I’ll let you know. Right now I’m more interested in the photo.”
Merle pulled a big eight by twelve glossy out of the pile. The Torino gleamed in the sunshine; its new paint-job had only just dried and the white stripe was clearly defined against the red paint.
“That’s perfect Merle – I hope it isn’t the only copy.”
“I have another; why?”
“Because, this one is going to be cut up into a two hundred ‘n fifty pieces.” Hutch ducked as Merle threw a service handbook at him.
“All in a good cause, Merle; I met a guy who makes custom jigsaw puzzles and I figured Starsky would enjoy doing this one.”
“I got plenty more where that came from; when he finished that I’ll find him one of the T-Bird he had before he went to ‘Nam.” Merle said.
“He had a T-Bird?”
“1962 model, a real beauty; his cousin wrecked it while he was in ‘Nam…good thing for him that Starsk came back a little more mellow than when he left!”
Hutch preferred not to think about the pre-‘Nam Starsky too hard.

Hutch ignored the radio as long as he could.
First Meredith came on; “Hutch are you listening? I have a lead; I’m going to see some guy over at Malibu – I’ll let you know what happens.”
Then it was Dobey. “Hutchinson where in the hell are you? I want you in my office now!” He repeated the message again five minutes later. Hutch sighed and switched off the radio.
He drove into the residential area of Tarzana and found Bishop’s house. Molly Bishop waved from the window and pointed to the workshop; Hutch went straight to the back of the house. Ted Bishop was putting the finishing touches to the puzzle he had been cutting the last time. He was sanding the edges to make sure of a perfect fit.
“Mr. Bishop? I wondered if…”
“Call me Ted. You want a custom job? OK show me the lovely lady.”
Hutch smiled and shook his head; “she’s not exactly a beauty queen; but my partner loves her.” He held out the photo of the Torino. Bishop whistled. “Some paint job; this is your partner’s car? I thought you guys were detectives.” Hutch laughed; “it’s a long explanation; maybe when Starsky finally snaps out of it he’ll explain.”
Bishop explained what he was going to do. “First I glue the picture to the wood and varnish it to protect the paper. I cut from the back – the wood side; the saw creates its own pattern at random. I sand the edges – like I’m doing now – and the thing should be a perfect fit. I’ll have this ready in about two days.”

Hutch nodded. “I guess I’d better go back to work now before my Captain fires me.” He started to walk out of the workshop when Bishop called him back. “Hey I thought of something. Those kids…I think they had a camper parked around the corner; one of those VW campers that the hippies favor.”
“What color?”
“It was covered in flowers that I guess they painted on it themselves.”
“You didn’t happen to notice the license number?”
“No, sorry…but …I’m pretty sure it was out of state. Oregon maybe; or Oklahoma; I’m pretty sure I saw an ‘O’.”
Hutch ran to the car and switched on the radio.
“Zebra Three to control. I need to contact Meredith.”
“This is control, Zebra Three. Detective Meredith has not been in contact since…”
Hutch slammed his fist against the wheel and swore.
“Hutch!” It was Dobey.
“Yes Captain?” Hutch said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
“Get back in here; we have an emergency. Meredith has disappeared.”

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

Starsky was in Friedman’s office. He was sitting upright and foursquare on his chair and seemed to be staring at a point on the wall to the left of Friedman’s face. The modeling equipment was on the table.
“David, I though you’d like a change from your puzzles. Hutch suggested we bring this from your apartment.”
Starsky turned his gaze to the table. He studied the sheet of balsa wood; the pencil and the knife for a few seconds. He reached out. Friedman held his breath.
Starsky picked up the pencil and started to draw the shape of the boat’s keel onto the wood. He worked freehand and used one firm movement. The shape was perfectly symmetric. He picked up the knife and released the safety device. With one steady, confident stroke he cut out one side of the keel. He repeated the sequence and held the two pieces in his hands, staring at them. He looked at the table.
“Oh I’m sorry, David. I forgot the glue.”
Starsky looked at him steadily. For a second Friedman was sure he saw an expression of derision in Starsky’s eye.

Glue! He doesn’t know anything! Unless he thinks he can stick me back together again.

Starsky took the knife and started to carefully cut notches in one piece of the keel; he took the second piece and did the same. He slid the two pieces together and Friedman realized that they were joined by a perfect dovetailing system. Starsky cut another piece that fitted into the keel to form the deck. It held by pressure against the tension created in the bent wood of the keel. He looked at the table. “He’s looking for the rest of the model.” Friedman said to himself.
“David, I’m impressed. I could never make a model – not even with a kit and both my brothers helping me. I’m sure you want to finish this one. If you would like to tell me what you need I’ll have it brought in for our next meeting.”
Starsky looked at the sloop in creation and sighed. Friedman waited in silence; he didn’t want to force Starsky to speak. The silence seemed to last for minutes – but the ticking of the clock on the wall told the seconds. Starsky picked up a pencil and the legal pad that Friedman had left on his desk.

Nice try – but I’m not ready!
“Thread; scissors, sailcloth and a length of one eighth inch rod.” He wrote.
“I’m sorry David; I don’t understand the last bit of that…”
Starsky looked at him wearily. “I need thread and scissors and sail cloth. I also need the rod to make the mast – one-eighth inch diameter rod…please.” He wrote again.
“Where should I go to buy it?”
Starsky scribbled again: “It’s in my apartment.”
“I think that’s enough for now…unless you want to…” Starsky was already standing up to leave. Friedman let him go without further comment. He leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief.

Starsky went back to his room. He climbed into bed and turned his head to the pillow and surrendered to sleep.

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

It was the same old nightmare; with a twist. A big nasty twist in the tail; that hit him four-square in his mind’s eye and knocked his brain out of gear.
Back in the alley; hiding behind a trash can. The alley leads to a jungle and the jungle leads to another alley.
The trash can becomes bamboo and mud.
Only the sounds remain the same.
Gun fire.
A single shot; or a burst from a machine gun.
No matter how hard he tries to run – he can’t. He’s frozen in place. Petrified – literally, stuck in place like stone. Fear stops him from crying out. Instinct tells him not to cry out. He can’t stop it happening. His dad…Hutch…Joey and Mike and Ricky and Pete; the people in the village…he can’t stop the bullets. He can’t stop them from dying- not this time. This time he has frozen in place and fear won’t even make him tremble.

“Starsky!” He watched the man turn to see who had called him. He watched from behind the trash can…silent…terrified…helpless. A single shot and he saw his father fall to the ground.

Inside his head he could hear his voice cry out.
Inside his head he heard the voice change octave in mid scream.
Inside his head; outside his head there was no sound.
Only the sound of footsteps running down the alley; and his mother’s scream when she saw what had happened.

Inside his head he could hear his voice; strong and confident.
“Joey, Mike, Ricky, Pete…” they didn’t hear him.
They didn’t hear his warning and they ran straight into it.
Straight into what he would learn to call “an accident”.
Straight into what he knew was “friendly fire”.
But it wasn’t friendly…not this time…it came from “friends” who didn’t want the others to see what they were doing.
Inside his head…and outside his head he heard himself shout and saw the children run to the safety of a ditch.

How many times had he seen it and heard it?
How many times had he shouted a warning just in time?
He’d always been there for Hutch…he hadn’t let him down.
He hadn’t always been able to stop the bullet making contact with that strong body…but he’d been there; doing his job…alert and ready to cover his buddy.

And Hutch?
He’d been there enough times.
He’d held him as poison ran through his veins.
He’d hauled him out of a gas chamber and he’d nursed his wounds enough times. But this time…this time he hadn’t been quick enough.
He hadn’t been quick at all. Hutch hadn’t really been there…and Starsky knew that there was no excuse.
He’d seen Hutch; he’d seen him…
Only this time…this time it wasn’t a nightmare.
He was wide awake and he saw.

This time it was once too often; one bullet too many had burned its way into his body; ripping his flesh.
Once too often; trusted and been let down…but he had never expected it to happen this way.
He’d trusted women who had betrayed him.
He’d trusted his fellow grunts in the jungle…and seen them turn against him.
He trusted Hutch…with his life…
But Hutch had betrayed him with Kira…
He couldn’t handle it any more.
I don’t want to go back!
I feel safe here in the silence!
I feel safer here inside my head!
The lines of communication are broken
He sobbed into the pillow until he heard the door open and felt the sweet relief of the needle.

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

Hutch was having his own problems. Dobey held him responsible for what had happened to Meredith. And to tell the truth, Hutch knew that he had a point – but he was in no mood to admit it. He had enough on his mind to feel bad about.

After she’d watched Hutch walk to the bus stop; Meredith had decided to take things into her own hands. She’d gone back to see the Ventura County Sheriff and checked with him where the local communes hung out. That was two days ago. The last thing anyone had heard from Meredith was when she dropped by Hutch’s place dressed in frayed jeans, a short cropped tie-dyed top and bare feet. She’d painted a flower round her navel and another on her cheek. She was wearing a bandeau around her hair and had flowers and beads around her neck. She smelled of patchouli – at least Hutch hoped that’s what it was.
“How do I look?”
“I don’t know – I mean what am I supposed to say? You look like a hippie.”
“That’s all I needed to know. I have a favor to ask you.”
Hutch looked at her sourly.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
Hutch made a bowing gesture and stepped to one side. Meredith settled herself on the sofa and smiled up at Hutch. “Any chance of a beer?” she asked.
Hutch sighed and went to the fridge to find a can of beer; he handed it to her and stood sipping from his own can.
“You wanted to ask me a favor?”
Meredith drank some of her beer. “Yes…I need some wheels.”
“What’s wrong with your car?”
“Nothing; only….well it’s kind of smart for a hippie; if you see what I mean.”
Hutch had a feeling he knew what was coming. He nodded.
“Well I figured that we could maybe swap cars for a while. You can drive my car and…” She saw the expression on his face. “Oh, maybe you’d rather drive the Torino.” Hutch swallowed his beer and shook his head.
Meredith grinned at him. “No; I can understand that. Starsky’s pretty possessive about that car of his isn’t he?”
“That’s not the point. I’m not sure…I guess…I mean…”
“Well to get to the point; I need a car that fits the image and yours is just fine. I mean it looks more the part than mine does.”

Hutch thought about it for a second; he went over to the bed and picked up his jacket. He fished in the pockets and found his key-chain. He removed the car key and went back to Meredith. He handed her the key in silence. She gave him the key to her car. “Don’t beat it up too much; Hutch; I kind of like the paint and all.” Before he could say anything she was gone…with his car.

He closed the door and went back to his beer and his plants. He hadn’t bothered to ask her where she was going…and he realized that he didn’t care. He was still too preoccupied with Starsky’s silence. He made a mental note to go over to Starsky’s place and tend his plants too. He picked a couple of dead leaves off the plant and watered it. He was hungry and a quick check of the fridge showed that he had nothing much to eat in the house. He decided to go and eat at The Pits and see if Huggy had heard anything of interest about the hold-ups. He pulled on his jacket and went out into the street. The canary yellow car was parked just in front of the spot where he usually parked; he noted yet another oil spot on the road where his car had been and swore.

“Hutch, how’re you doing?” Huggy was as cheerful as ever.
“OK I guess Hug.”
“How’s Curly?”
“Bad. Friedman says that there are moments when he thinks he is breaking through and then the barriers go up again. I went to see him yesterday and he turned away when I went in the room and refused to even look at me.”
Huggy could see how much Hutch was hurting about Starsky. They turned to one another so often that this rejection was like torture to him.
“The worse thing is…I…I feel like it’s something I’ve done. Like maybe I did something that upset him and tipped him over the edge.”
Huggy looked at Hutch carefully. “And did you?”
Hutch said nothing. He was thinking and he knew what the answer was.
“I need something to eat, Hug; what does the house recommend?”
“A Huggy Bear Special!”
Hutch looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “If that means cold burger in a stale bun; forget it!”
Huggy rolled his eyes. “It means a fresh bun with a quarter pound burger; tomato, pickle and coleslaw on the side.”
“Hold the pickle.”

Huggy sat opposite Hutch while he ate what he had to admit was a great burger.
“What about the most beautiful cop in the Force?”
Hutch looked up at him. “Huh?”
“Meredith; the woman I plan to marry one of these days – if I can ever persuade her to find normal employment.”
“She took my car.”
“The lady has flipped!” Huggy grinned. “What she do a crazy thing like that for?”
“She turned up at my place dressed like a refugee from San Francisco in 1969 and took my car. She left me hers in exchange.”
Huggy stood up and went over to the bar. He served a couple of customers and came back with a cigarette hanging from his lower lip. He looked at Hutch: “And?”
“And I don’t know where she went. I mean she probably has some crazy idea that she’s going to solve this on her own. And you know what Huggy? I don’t care if she does…just as long as she doesn’t cause me any trouble!”

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

Meredith took a while to get used to Hutch’s car. The transmission lived a life of its own and going up a slight hill she found it necessary to slip it down before the engine realized that it couldn’t handle the strain. The brakes were fine – but if it had shock absorbers they didn’t work too well. At least the steering was OK – so far.
She radioed in to inform Dobey that she was following up a lead in Ventura County and that she’d be in touch through the Sheriff’s Office. That was her last call.

She drove across the county line and pulled over. She disconnected the mike from the radio and stashed it in the glove compartment. There was a ‘phone booth about two hundred yards further along and she stopped to make a call. She followed the instructions carefully; driving up North Ventura until she came to the junction that led her to Devils Canyon. The camper was waiting on a bend in the road – just like her contact had said.
As she approached the camper moved away from the side of the road and she followed it. They continued up the winding road for another mile or so before the camper turned off and started up a dusty bumpy track. Meredith couldn’t help wishing she had her own car – at least it had good suspension – she wasn’t too sure that this thing of Hutch’s had any suspension.
The camper pulled up in front of a rambling wood-built house that looked like it had been designed by a committee on a trip – and built by another one. Bells hung from the trees, a young man was playing a bongo drum in front of a fountain. He was wearing a saffron colored loincloth and his hair looked like he hadn’t washed it or tried to comb it for at least a month.
Her guide climbed out of the camper and came towards her with an outstretched hand. If she didn’t know better she’d say he was Hutch’s brother. The guy was a little skinnier but the same tall lean frame; blonde hair that flopped over his ears (this guy’s was at least six inches longer. He had a moustache like the one Hutch had grown recently. He was wearing a poncho that looked like it might double as a dog blanket and velvet pants that flared wide from the knees down to touch the ground and covered his silver platform-soled boots. When he reached out his arm she saw that his torso was bare under the poncho. The thought of his body was kind of exciting. She tried to keep a cool cop’s head on her shoulders.
“Peace. My name is Jason; but most people call me Jay.”
She shook his hand and felt his finger linger in her palm. “Most people call me Merry.” She smiled at him as she spoke.
“Welcome Merry; come on in and I’ll show you where you can stash your stuff.”
She grabbed a big army surplus back pack from the back of the car and hitched it onto her shoulder; then she followed him into the house.
The main room was lit with candles even though there was bright sunshine outside. All the windows were draped with semi-transparent red cloth; the atmosphere was warm and relaxed. Meredith sniffed carefully and detected the heady fumes that contributed to this ambiance. She followed Jason up the stairs and across a hall way. As he went he gestured to the doors that they passed. “That’s the john; the bathroom; the men’s dorm and this…” they went up another flight of steps and he knocked on a door at the end of the hallway, “is the where the ladies hang out.”
Someone called out “come on in” and she followed Jason into a big room under the eaves of the house. The room had been partitioned with tie-dyed lengths of cloth to create individual cubicles. A young woman sat cross-legged on a cot, she was braiding her long still-wet blond hair and she was naked from the waist up. Jason didn’t seem to notice and the woman didn’t seem to care. She looked up at Meredith and smiled.
“Peace.” She said dreamily and went on braiding.
Meredith saw that one of the cubicles was obviously unused so she dumped her pack on the cot and turned to Jason. “How about a guided tour of the rest of the commune?”
He smiled and beckoned to her to follow.
They visited the other communal rooms on the first floor; a big dining table dominated one of the rooms. It had benches like something out of a monastery; Meredith noticed that it was beautifully waxed and clean. The grain of the wood was beautiful; she stopped to admire it.
“Happy made the table. He’s our woodworker. Sherri likes to keep it looking good; she’s our beekeeper.” Meredith took in the sweet smell of beeswax.
They went into the kitchen. It was a sunny room that opened onto a deck. The windows had transparent stickers on them and the rainbows and flowers sent the sunlight into the room as if it was reflected through a prism. There were pale yellow muslin curtains to add to the glow. In the center of the kitchen three women and two children were working at a scrubbed pine table. The kids were shelling peas and shucking corn; one of the women was mixing something in a bowl; another was chopping onions and garlic; the third was cleaning a chicken. Meredith started. The woman was sitting holding the chicken between her legs and expertly stripping away the feathers. Jason saw Meredith’s reaction. “We eat a whole-food diet here; but we are not all vegetarians. We are as self-sufficient as we can be – we keep our chickens for eggs and we breed some for the pot. Moon-song is our chief cook.” He smiled at the woman chopping onions.
“Hi,” she said, “Peace.”
Meredith smiled and muttered “Peace” before following Jason out into the yard.
Some of the men were working the truck garden. Meredith could see that there was enough to feed the commune and to sell or trade for those things that they did not produce. Jason must have read her mind. “We take our stuff to the Farmer’s Market once a week; plus we supply a local store with our eggs and extra goat cheese.” Meredith noted the goats roaming in a field a little further along. We buy stuff like rice and pulses and sugar and flour with what we make…and we allow for little extras to brighten up our days – if you see what I mean.” She watched a man stop to roll a “cigarette” and figured that she knew exactly what he meant.
“Do you really make enough to buy all you need from the stuff you produce?”
Jason looked at her carefully. “Of course not. Many of us use our skills to provide services or to make things to sell. We have a pottery studio; Carla teaches music; Ben teaches yoga and Happy repairs things as well as makes things on special orders. He has a good reputation for his furniture and people pay well for good work.”
He stopped. A second camper had just pulled up behind the barn and Jason seemed anxious to draw Meredith’s attention from it. He moved to block her line of vision. “Why don’t you come and meet the others and drink the tea of togetherness?” He led her back to the lawn in front of the house. As she turned Meredith caught a glimpse of a young woman in a Hare-Krishna outfit slipping into the barn. She said nothing.

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

Friedman had been impressed when Starsky had started to work on the sloop; especially because Starsky had at least communicated with him – if only in writing. He decided to allow Starsky to work on the sloop on condition that he did so in one of the communal rooms so that he could be discreetly supervised. Starsky still said nothing and the next morning he installed himself at a table in a corner of one of the rooms. A male-nurse had been assigned to keep an eye on Starsky as he worked. “I want you to observe him; see if he shows any sign of communicating,” Friedman told Bob, “and you’d better stay close enough to make sure that nothing happens with the knife. I don’t know if I’m taking a risk here or not.”

We went on the Sloop John B. My grandfather and me…I never went on a boat with him but he taught me to love the silence.
It would be nice to just sail out to sea and drift and drift until I disappear over the horizon…disappear and never have to come back. No that’s running away isn’t it, and dad taught me not to do that.

Starsky sat quietly; he had finished the keel and the deck and was now cutting the cloth to make the sails. He worked without any kind of pattern and Bob was fascinated to see that everything seemed to fit perfectly. Now Starsky was whittling at the piece of wood that would be the mast. He worked carefully; painstakingly, obsessively paring the wood to fit tight enough into a small hole in the deck not to need to be fixed with glue.
Suddenly Starsky stopped working. He stood up and walked over to the door; Bob watched him as he went into the men’s room.

In the shadows – behind the door – they got me from behind. I was pissing and they got me from behind. They took me to the darkness – but it wasn’t the right darkness and I didn’t want to go there. Watch the mirrors. Watch out behind you; always watch your back…the law of the jungle – watch your back.

When Starsky returned he seemed less calm. Bob couldn’t put his finger on why he thought so, and he would later tell Friedman that he just had a sense that something was going to happen
Starsky sat down at the table and picked up the knife. He stared at it for a while. Bob was talking to one of the other patients when he turned and saw in horror that slowly and carefully Starsky was drawing the knife across the flesh of his inner arm. He didn’t cut deep; he was scoring his skin in a criss-cross pattern. He seemed to be concentrating on what he was doing. Bob reached the table just as Starsky started on another cut. Bob knew that if he grabbed the knife he could provoke a more violent reaction. Gently he put his own hand around Starsky’s left wrist. Starsky didn’t resist. His fingers relaxed and the knife dropped onto the table. He turned his blank staring blue eyes on Bob and his face was an expressionless mask. Bob guided him to his feet and back to his room. Starsky lay quietly on the bed while Bob bathed and disinfected the cuts. He didn’t move while the nurse bandaged his arm. Friedman arrived just as Bob was putting on the bandage.
“What happened?” He asked without anger.
“I was answering Freddie and I turned round and saw that he’d started scarifying his arm.”
“Did he show any distress before he did it?”
“No, he went to the john and then started doing this when he came back.”
Friedman sat on the edge of the bed. “Why do you want to hurt yourself, David?”
Starsky closed his eyes.

Because it takes my mind off the other pain.

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

Meredith was assigned to help in the kitchen. She went to see Moon-song to find out what she should do.
“You can go down to the herb garden and pick me some sorrel.”
Meredith took the basket that Moon-song held out to her and went out into the yard. The herb garden was to the left of the deck. The green sorrel leaves seemed succulent as Meredith picked them; she wondered what Moon-song was going to use them for. While she was gathering a basketful of leaves one of the children came skipping out to her. She was an elfin child of about six; her long auburn hair hung in wisps around her face and she had big almost green eyes. Like the other children she wore dungarees and nothing else – her feet were bare and filthy.
“Merry; mom says to pick her some parsley and thyme and rosemary.”
Meredith resisted the temptation to ask if she wanted sage too…the song was already echoing around her head. “Remember me to the one who lives there; she was once a true love of mine.”
“OK; why don’t you help me?” The little girl grinned and started to pick a bouquet of parsley leaves.
“What’s your name?” Meredith asked.
“Venus…my brother is Mars…mom likes to watch the stars at night and she chose our names for her favorites.”
“How old are you?” Venus stopped picking and thought for a second. “I’m six and three quarters and one week and two days.” She replied with the precision that small children revel in. “And Mars?” Venus had to think a little harder; finally she said “Nine.”
Meredith looked around and noticed that there were other children playing on a homemade swing. “What about the others? Are they all brothers and sisters?”
“No, silly. That’s Jack and Sara and Tommy and Angel. Their moms and dads all live here too.”
“What about school?”
“They don’t need to go to school to learn to be good members of society.” A man’s voice said behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with a black man with a wild ‘Afro’ hairstyle. He was staring at her. “They learn to read and write and count and all that is important here. We have many people here with good college degrees who can teach them all they need to know to make their way in the world without being brainwashed by the capitalist culture out there.
“That’s great; but suppose they want to go to college too?”
“Ask Jay about that; his son is in pre-law at USC. He did all his studying in places like this!”
Meredith accepted the point. The man looked her up and down.
“I’ve seen you around,” he said “don’t tell me; it’ll come back to me sometime.”
He walked away leaving Meredith with an uncomfortable feeling that her cover might not be as good as she thought it was. She finished gathering the sorrel and followed Venus, who was clutching a huge bundle of the herbs her mother had asked for.

Later that evening all the members of the commune were sitting around the big table on the deck. They had eaten a rich chicken stew and now they were sipping herb tea and smoking joints or plain tobacco according to their tastes and moods. Jay was drawing on a pipe. Someone pulled out a guitar from behind a chair and the afternoon drummer took up his bongos. They started to jam and sing. Meredith was impressed by the natural harmonies that many of the women were singing alongside the men’s stronger voices. “…we are one person…we are two together…we a three for each other….”
The man from the garden sat down beside her and whispered in her ear. “I still haven’t figured it out…maybe we could get to know each other better.” She turned and smiled into his eyes and found herself drawn to him irresistibly. Later he took her by the hand and led her down to a soft bank beside the creek. They spent the night there.

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

Meredith was missing. She had called in a couple of days earlier to say that she was following up a lead. They understood that she had infiltrated a commune and that the only chance she had to make contact was if she was in town with the others getting supplies. She called from a payphone and at the time no-one thought it necessary to identify its location.
Hutch was in Pearson’s office.
“I ordered you to work with Meredith, Hutchinson. Why did you allow her to go off on her own?”
Hutch looked at him with distaste. Most of the cops in the city knew that Pearson was a desk cop who had hardly ever been out on the streets. He had political contacts and had climbed up to the position from where it had been an easy step into a dead man’s shoes. Hutch was not alone on the force in hoping that the Governor would be re-elected thus stopping Pearson from getting what he really wanted – a permanent appointment in the job. It was a well-know fact that his support was in the Republican Party and as long as the present Democrat governor held his place Pearson would not be confirmed in the job.

“I am not responsible for Meredith’s movements, Chief. I mean…”
“You are her partner; and what is more Hutchinson you hold a higher rank than she does; I do not see why you think that you are not responsible.”
Hutch resisted the temptation to explain about women’s equality to this urban red-neck.
“What I meant, sir, is that Meredith went off alone when we were not on duty. I couldn’t know what she was doing.”
“She took your car.”
“I thought she was going to play a joke on some friends.” He knew it was weak but he hoped that it fooled Pearson. He was wrong.
“She had already informed the Ventura County Sheriff what she was doing; and she had cleared it with Dobey…and you are trying to tell me that you thought she was going to a fancy-dress parade!”
Hutch shook his head. “I figured that she didn’t want or need me in the way. I was worrying about something else.”
“You were worrying about your partner. From what I’ve read in the IA report – you are going