Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Warning: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

A/N: Aloha Everyone . . .

I hope that your holidays were festive and bright and that the New Year of 2010 is already treating you kindly, filling you with joy and prosperity and health. Today is the last day of my vacation and tomorrow I must once again go back to work. Knowing this, I spent the day writing this last chapter to IABOAE. I wanted to make sure that I finished this piece and not leave you hanging like I've done all year long. Please accept my humble apologies regarding this matter. The end of 2009 was not kind at all for so many of us. I hope that this chapter makes up for everything. For some reason, it was very difficult to write and I would love to hear your feedback. And now without further ado, I bring to you . . . Chapter Fourteen and the Epilogue.

Love and light to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn

Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":

The loud sound of glass shattering made the blond duck instinctively into a crouch as he dragged the woman down beside him. Another retort came from the rifle outside and Hutch could hear the bullet angrily embed itself into the wooden side of the cabin.

"Hu-Hutch?"

"Starsky, get down!" Hutch snapped, looking towards the couch, eyes bright with worry as he saw his partner struggling to rise. Another stray bullet zinged by and shattered a large glass jar filled with pennies that sat on a shelf near the couch. "Damn it Starsk," Hutch growled, crawling over to the living room, "I said get down! Now!"

~ Chapter Fourteen ~

"Wow, that's some story! You and Hutch getting out of that cabin in the nick of time."

"The sheriff came by just like Ellen said he would, heard all the shootin' and commotion. Started firin' into the trees, all the while yelling at Jake and his boys to drop their rifles and surrender."

"I would think that Jake wouldn't have given up so easily."

"He didn't. His kid and his buddy got the drop on him. Knocked him out cold with the butt of a rifle, then they turned themselves in."

"And how's your arm?"

"It's better. The bullet was pressin' against some nerves, which caused some minor damage. Thank God it was temporary. Took about a month and a half of rest and recuperation and a lot of therapy at rehab, but the arm's as good as new now.

"That's great news, Dave."

"Yeah. Kinda partial to having this hand workin'. (Flexes left hand) Gun arm and all."

"I see that you're a leftie. Play any baseball?"

"Some, but I think I'm better at basketball." (A blinding grin)

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were proficient at a lot of different sports, Dave.

(A quick grin)

And Ellen? What became of her?"

"She's still living in that cabin. Came to visit me while I was laid up in that hospital - the county over. She gave me some good advice."

"And what did she tell you?"

(A quiet snort, then silence)

"Well, whatever it was, it must have been something quite profound to have reached your heart. I don't think you would be here if it didn't, Dave."

"Actually, she told me to quit the force. Said I'd be an idiot to go back. After what she witnessed at the cabin, she said no job is worth that kind of shit."

(A soft chuckle)

"She sounds like a tough lady who knows her mind. Which um . . . brings me to the million-dollar question . . . are you clear about what's on your mind? Talking with you like I have today, I've discerned a lot about your character, and I know that having you back on the force will make our streets a safer place for many! I know a lot of people would sleep better knowing our city was protected by dedicated police officers like you and Hutch.

"Thanks, Doc," (A shy smile, dark lashes lowering over cheeks stained with a hint of pink)

"It's I, who should be thanking you, Dave, for your years of unwavering service, for your willingness to risk your life for the lives of others, but you have a chance now to maybe do something different, to maybe have that white picket fence dream of yours. Do you really want me to give you a clean slate for work, because I will, if that's what you want? And believe me, it's not because you've 'snowballed' me; you didn't have to do that, Dave. I can see for myself that you're probably one of the best cops Bay City has to offer. But I want to give you an opportunity to do what you want. So I'm asking you . . . do you really want to remain a cop? Do you really want to go back to the streets?"

"Yes."

"I see. And might I ask what brought about this change of heart?"

"Yeah, you can ask . . ."

The smell of antiseptic, the quiet hum and beeps from the machines, the rough, scratchy feel of clean sheets, and the soft murmuring of voices down the hall all pulled at the weary brunet, wrenching the detective from the deep slumber induced by the clear drip of morphine that ran through his veins. For a confusing moment, Starsky struggled to clear the haze from his brain, his eyes groggily tracking the lines on the ceiling, slowly shifting downwards to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He didn't need to be a detective to know that he was in a hospital room; he'd been in too many not to figure that out.

The brunet frowned. Last he remembered, they were in Ellen's cabin, flying bullets shattering anything breakable, pain ripping across his upper back and radiating down his useless arm as he tried to sit up on the soft couch, worry and fear causing his heart to flutter as he watched Hutch crawling on hands and knees, making his way over to check on him . . .

Dark blue eyes suddenly widened as he thought of his partner. Where was Hutch? Starsky could feel his heart rate accelerating in panic as he struggled to move his lethargic body into a sitting position, pain flaring at the sudden movement, but the need to watch and protect his partner's back overriding everything else.

"Easy there, Dave," A soft hand stroked his head soothingly and gently pushed him back against the pillows, easing his struggles. "Figures you'd be stubborn enough to regain consciousness even with that amount of morphine pumping through your body. Take it easy, boy, you're as weak as a kitten. They just brought you down from recovery."

Breathing heavily Starsky turned his head and relaxed when he saw Ellen standing next to his bed, reaching over the guardrails to stroke back his curls. He winced as he innately tried to reach out with his left hand, feeling the bandage and sling holding his arm tightly against his chest.

The dark haired detective attempted to swallow, his throat dry and uncooperative, "Wh . . . where's Hu . . ."

"Hutch?" At the brunet's stilted nod, Ellen smiled reassuringly. "He's outside chattin' with the doctor and you should be sleepin'.

"Wha' . . . ha?"

"What happened? Well, we ain't dead if that's what yer askin'." At the disgusted eye roll and quiet snort that came from the bedridden detective, Ellen grinned widely, "But it sure came close to that fer me." The recluse paused and then smiled reassuringly at the brunet who stared up at her.

Starsky frowned as he silently eyed the woman, confusion and weariness making the color of his eyes darken even more. He was so tired, and the fiery fingers of pain were already beginning to make its unwanted presence known; it was difficult to remain focused, but the brunet wanted earnestly to find out what happened at the cabin.

"Ya really don't remember anything that happened back there, d'ya?" Ellen frowned, running her hand gently through the dark curls on the detective's head, probing the egg-sized lump on the back of Starsky's head, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as the brunet winced. "Y'were concussed when you came to mah cabin, ya know that, right?" At the small nod from the brunet, Ellen took out a small penlight from the pocket of her denim shirt and leaned over to peer into the Starsky's eyes, making the detective squint at the sudden glare that pierced his orbs. "Yer pupils are equal and reactive right now. That's a good sign, boy."

"Y'always carry . . . a fla . . flashlight around?"

"Old habits die hard, son," Ellen chuckled. "The surgeon did a great job on removin' that bullet, I checked. Looked over his handiwork and talked to him a few minutes ago. It's gonna take some time and therapy, but I think yer arm's gonna be just fine. Now y'get some shut eye and rest . . ."

"So, what hap'n . . ." Starsky whispered tiredly, dark lashes blinking sporadically to keep the sleep from his eyes. The pain was getting stronger; probably what pulled him from his slumber in the first place.

"Y'saved me, y' idiot . . . that's what happened. Probably made that bullet in your back move and cause more damage to yourself." Ellen sighed; the gentle strokes to the dark curls on the detective's head never stopping.

At the confusion she read in the sea of sapphire, Ellen continued, "That partner of yer's and I were standin' by the window whisperin' when those jackasses started firin', bullets were flying 'round in the cabin and you chose that time t'try and sit up."

"I 'member that . . ." Starsky murmured, feeling the phantom fear and worry that pierced his heart when the gunshots went off, seeing Hutch crawling across the cabin's wooden floor in his mind's eye. "But after that . . . I don' . . ." The brunet shook his head, instantly regretting that small movement as pain reared its ugly head once more.

Ellen sighed, reading the pain the detective tried to mask. "We can talk later. Yer feelin' sore, ain't ya? I'll go call yer surgeon, he's just down the hall. Maybe he can increase yer dosage of morphine so that . . ."

"Jus' . . . tell me . . ." Starsky gasped softly, closing his eyes to surf the pain that was steadily growing stronger. "Wha' . . . happ . . ."

Ellen shook her head, amazed at the tenacity of the hurting brunet. "Yer a stubborn ass, Dave, y' know that, right?" As a small smirk lifted a corner of the detective's mouth, the older woman continued, "Ya probably don't remember 'cause y'passed out soon after hurling yer body off that couch o'mine and shoving me to the floor. Even now, I don't know how you did that, hurt the way you was, but they say an adrenalin rush can do many strange and unexplainable things . . ."

Ellen smiled sadly, her hazel eyes soft and shimmering, "Y'protected me with yer own body, Dave. I was followin' after your partner who was crawlin' over to ya, shoutin' the whole time fer ya t'get down. Both us didn't see it, but you did. That heavy wooden shelf near the couch window was beginning to topple over us, probably would have broken some bones in yer partner's leg, it would've definitely crushed my spine fer sure, but you saw it. Y'just . . ." The recluse shook her head and paused, her eyes lost in memory.

"I don' know how you did it, but y'jus' . . . y'jus dove over the back of the couch, knocking yer partner to the side as you tackled me down, coverin' me with your own body as the shelf collapsed just mere inches from the both of us. Me and Hutch were coughin' with the dust that rose and you . . . you were knocked out. Soon after that we could hear the sheriff hollerin' at Jake and his boys to drop their guns. When it was all over and Sherriff Jonas came into the cabin, he chuckled 'cause all of us were white as ghosts with the fine dust that covered us and the place was a shambles! What're ya smirking at, boy? I never said I was much of a housekeeper," Ellen grinned as Starsky smiled, dark blue eyes still twinkling with mirth despite the pain he was obviously in.

The old recluse leaned over and pressed the button to summon a nurse, informing her of the detective's discomfort when she popped her head in from behind the door. After carefully watching the nurse inject more morphine into the IV line, Ellen waited until the fine lines of pain that etched the brunet's face slowly receded.

Once the nurse left, Ellen shook her head, her hazel eyes growing soft and serious as she whispered, "I know y'wants to quit the force, Dave, and you should. After what I saw at the cabin, aint' no job is worth that kind'a shit, but I can see that yer an officer of the law through and through . . . the need ya have t'serve and protect is ingrained in ya, boy, it's part'a who y'are, and it will always be."

Starsky nodded and wearily closed his eyes; dark lashes hiding the thoughts that rose in his heart as he silently pondered Ellen's words, "Yeah? Seems like . . . those are words you should . . . you should think about too . . . you bein' a doctor and all . . ."

Ellen laughed out loud. "Funny you should say that boy, Jonas said 'bout the same thing at the cabin as he watched me care fer ya while we waited for the ambulance to come. The sheriff said we needed a doctor fer our small town, just fer emergencies and all . . . said I shoud think about it, that I didn't need to leave my cabin to help others, that they could come there and that I could do a lot of good for people . . . that doctorin' was ingrained in my blood . . ."

Starsky nodded, though his lashes never raised, his voice rough and slurring, "Seems li' good advice t'me . . ."

"Huh, what d'ya know," Ellen snorted, "Yer flyin' as high as kite now, boy. Just shut yer pie hole fer now and enjoy this while you can . . ." The woman smiled as she continued to gently stroke the dark curls from the detective's face, remaining quiet until she knew for sure that Starsky was fast asleep. "That's right, son, just enjoy this freedom while y'can 'cause I know that in no time yer gonna be back on those streets servin' and protectin' others. After all, yer just an idiot like me . . . and we idiots need all the reprieve we can get!"

Hutch looked over his shoulder at his longtime friend who lay resting upon his couch. It had been just a few weeks since Starsky had been released from the small Oregonian hospital and on the long drive back to Bay City, it was agreed upon that Starsky would stay at his partner's for a while until he could get back on his feet once more. Today had been an especially grueling workout at the rehab and the blond winced in sympathy watching his partner grimacing in pain as the curly haired detective carefully massaged his aching shoulder. "You hungry, pal? I can make you a salami sandwich if you want?"

"Nah, too tired to eat," came the soft reply. "Just coffee's fine."

The handsome blond snorted softly, his eyes softening with the affection he felt for his weary partner. Therapy was often times brutal and painful, but so needed; and with the positive results he saw in Starsky's arm each day, Hutch made it a point to never let the brunet skip a session despite the constant whining and complaining he had to endure.

Hutch quickly filled the mug to the brim with the coffee he'd just brewed, grabbed the ice pack he'd just made, and carried both over to his reclining partner, who slowly sat up at his approach. "Here," the blond said quietly, setting the mug carefully on the wooden side table and turning to help Starsky sit up. "Hurting, huh?" the blond asked sympathetically.

"Boy, that therapist can make me see stars sometimes," Starsky admitted with a grin, "Would hate to have to wrestle that broad. Did'ya see the muscles on her biceps?"

Hutch chuckled and nodded picking up the ice pack as he sat beside his longtime friend. Nurse Broderick was quite a bruiser, but the woman was very efficient and knew what she was doing as she worked Starsky's shoulder and arm twice a week, and though the sessions were often times painful, the positive results to the brunet's arm mobility were nonetheless very noticeable.

"Here, let me ice that shoulder." Hutch said as he gently removed Starsky's left arm from the sleeve of his buttoned down shirt. Wincing in sympathy at the soft grunt that came from the brunet, Hutch gently applied the ice pack to the shoulder of his friend, smiling as Starsky closed his eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure. "That feel better?'

"Mmm . . ." Starsky murmured, his body relaxing against the padded cushions of the couch, inadvertently pressing the back of the blond's hand against them.

Hutch smiled as he gazed at his partner and longtime friend; sitting there with his eyes closed, unruly dark curls framing a face filled with peace. The blond knew that if he remained quiet Starsky would soon fall fast asleep, and though Hutch wanted his partner to get some rest, the phone call he'd received in the morning was a nagging reminder that there were pressing things that needed to be discussed.

"What is it?" the gravelly soft voice of Starsky pulled Hutch from his thoughts. The blond looked down at his dark haired counterpart; one cobalt blue eye peeked curiously up at him from under a curtain of lashes. "What's wrong, Blondie?"

Hutch snorted. Leave it to his partner to sense when something of off keel between them. It seemed at times, they could almost sense each other's thoughts, so in tune were they with one another. "Nothing pressing, I just forgot to tell you that Dobey called while you were in the shower this morning."

"Yeah?" Starsky opened his other eye and sat up a little straighter, Hutch moving with him to keep the ice pack in place. "What did he want?"

"He was just asking about you, how you were doing, and if your arm was getting better."

"Huh. That was nice." Starsky grinned. "He's probably glad I'm not there to steal his donuts or put my feet up on his desk."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Hutch grinned back, "I think he misses you. I think he wants you back on the force so he can keep you in line. He told me that you weren't gonna be allowed to play pool anymore."

Both detectives chuckled as Hutch removed the cold pack and began a gentle massage to the iced area. The blond smiled as Starsky sighed with pleasure, but a slight frown marred Hutch's handsome visage as he said, "Dobey also asked if you've made that appointment yet to see the shrink?" Hutch could feel the slight tensing of his partner's body beneath his hands.

"Yeah? What'd ya tell 'im?"

"I told him you haven't as yet done that."

"And?"

"And he said to tell you to get a move on it."

Starsky snorted. "Figures he would say that."

Hutch smiled gently, "Yeah, like I said, I think the Captain misses you."

"Ri-i-ight!" Starsky said, his playful grin turning into a wince as Hutch helped him put on his shirt, placing the strap of the sling over Starsky's neck and then carefully lifting the brunet's left arm into its support. "Take it easy, buddy," the flaxen haired detective whispered soothingly, knowing the slight movement was causing Starsky some discomfort. "There you go, pal. Good as new."

"Thanks Hutch." The blond leaned over to reach for the mug of coffee, but stopped as he felt Starsky's right hand clutch at the sleeve of his shirt. For a suspended moment, light blue eyes searched a sea of sapphire blue before the brunet finally whispered, "I mean, thanks for everything. I don't think I would've made it in those woods if it weren't for you, Hutch."

"Hey, you did the same for me, diving over the couch like that. I swear, Starsky, if you ever pull a stupid stunt like that again . . . I'll kill you myself!"

"Hey, we're partners aren't we?" Starsky replied, his voice softening with affection.

The hard glint in Hutch's eyes dissolved into a wash of gentle blue, "Yeah, we are. Me and thee . . . always, right?"

"Right," Starsky whispered, swallowing down the sudden emotion that rose within, his Adam's apple bobbing spasmodically.

Hutch smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting the love and camaraderie he felt inside for his dark haired partner. "Yeah. Me and Thee." After a quiet pause, Hutch reached over to squeeze his partner's knee. "I need to tell you that I get it now," the blond said softly, his honey smooth voice, soothing and reassuring, "I get how you've been feeling about the job, about Sean, about all the crap we go through on a daily business out there on the streets. And Starsk, I want you to know that I would totally understand and support you if you really wanted to leave the force."

Sapphire colored eyes widened in surprise and searched the blue of the sky, and for a moment both men were lost in thought. The brunet finally broke his gaze, dropping his eyes to his hands as he cleared his throat. "I thought you said that you didn't wanna . . ."

"I know what I said," Hutch cut in, "And I was wrong. Just . . . just listen to me, okay? I guess I didn't want you to do something rash, something you might regret. I know how much you love this job, Starsky. And you're the best detective this city has, but trying to make you do something you don't want to do anymore would be selfish of me." The tall blond cop reached over and passed his partner the steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks, Hutch," Starsky murmured, long lashes hiding his expressive eyes from the flaxen haired detective who sat beside him. The handsome blond found himself tilting his head to catch the familiar blue that would clue him in to what his partner was feeling and thinking.

"Hey, pal, you okay?" Hutch asked softly, concerned lines making slight furrows between his pale brows. "That's what you want, isn't it . . . to leave?"

"Yeah, but . . ." cobalt blue eyes shifted to peer up at Hutch, worry and guilt making Starsky's irises appear to grow even darker. The brunet sighed softly and looked down into the coffee mug as if all the answers to life's questions were contained in the ceramic cup.

"But what?" Hutch prodded gently, wanting to understand what was making his partner react the way he was. If anything, the blond thought his revelation would make his best friend ecstatic with joy.

Starsky shrugged, but remained silent.

"You're having second thoughts now, Gordo?" Hutch pushed, his heart beating faster against his chest. "I mean, you were pretty adamant about resigning that day we left the cabin and I just thought . . ."

"I don't wanna leave you, Hutch, I mean out there on the streets . . . alone. I don't trust anybody to watch your back out there, except me." Starsky said, dark blue eyes glancing up to read the expression on his partner's face.

Hutch nodded solemnly, pale blue eyes locking on dark sapphire. "And I don't trust anyone else to watch my back either, so I'm going with you . . . gonna quit the force, too. We can do something else, maybe become PI's, or open a pizza store, or . . . something. We'd build houses next door to each other with white picket fences all around and your kids and my kids will run havoc in our neighborhood. Everyone will hate us!"

Starsky snorted, lowering lashes once more to the mug he held in his hands, feeling the coffee growing colder by the minute.

"What is it?" Hutch gently prodded, knowing something was eating away at his partner.

"Yeah, well . . . it's different now, I guess."

"Different? How?"

Starsky sighed and shook his head slowly, replacing the mug onto the table as he tried to put to words all that was in his heart. "I dunno. I just don't want you to do this on account of me. I mean this is your career too, Hutch. I appreciate you wantin' to sacrifice it all for me, but . . ."

"Back in that cave, when you were bleeding out and the rain was falling hard," Hutch softly interjected, crystal blue eyes lost in memory, "I fell asleep. I don't know why I did that, I mean I knew the danger we were in and all, but I . . . anyway I started dreaming."

Starsky raised his head, dark sapphire searching his friend's features, silently encouraging his friend to continue. When nothing came forth, the whispering brunet gently prodded, "What did you dream, Hutch?"

"You . . . they killed you in that alley. Execution style. I saw you fall, saw the back of your head . . .and you said to me before they pulled the trigger . . . you said . . ."

"Hey, hey, buddy," Starsky leaned into his partner's personal space, reaching out to clutch at the blond's shirt with his right had, needing to pull Hutch from his living nightmare, "Hey, it was dream . . . just a dream, pal."

"Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."

Hutch sighed and then silently nodded, closing his eyes as he dragged a large hand through his fine golden hair with frustration. "Yeah, I know, but . . . but in that cave, after I woke from that nightmare . . . all I could hear was your voice telling me how you could see me dying every night, right before your eyes, and that there was nothing you could do save me. That's how it was in my dream, Starsk . . ." The handsome blond turned to look his partner in the eye, "You died, in some dirty back alley. They made me watch and there was nothing I could do to save you . . ."

"It was a dream, that's all," Starsky interjected firmly. "We have 'em all the time. It helps us to stay wary, keeps us on our toes. We're cops, Hutch, I guess nightmares are just part of the job."

Hutch frowned, eyeing his stoic partner, the fear of almost losing his partner to some crazy backwoodsmen still fresh in his mind, "So what're you . . ."

"'M just sayin' that it's normal to have nightmares with what we do." Starsky cut in, his voice rough with emotion. "And since we're stayin on the job, we might as well get used to it."

"Staying on the jo . . . wait a minute, when did you make this decision?" Hutch asked incredulously.

Starsky shrugged and looked away. "I dunno . . . now, maybe." The dark haired detective could feel his partner's eyes on him and flushed profusely. "Maybe it was what Ellen said at the hospital."

Hutch arched a pale brow, "Ellen said something to you? When?"

"You were out talkin' to the doc and she was in the room when I first woke up."

"W-wait . . . what? You woke up and she didn't call me?" Hutch sputtered.

"Take it easy, Blondie," Starsky grinned, dark blue eyes peeping up at his red-faced partner through a curtain of long lashes, "I was up for only a few minutes, but she gave me food for thought before I passed out again from the drugs."

"Huh," Hutch huffed, "And what words of wisdom did Ellen impart to you?"

"She said that being a cop was ingrained in me, that the need to serve and protect would always be there, that it was a part of who I am . . . a part of who WE are." A sea of dark sapphire eyes searched a sky of azure blue, looking to see if the tall blond understood all that he was trying to say.

At Hutch's stilted nod, Starsky continued, "I guess being cops is who we are. I mean, we see some horrible stuff on the streets, and I guess what happened to that kid . . . to Sean . . . it shook me, Hutch. All I could think about after awhile was that I couldn't survive if the streets took you too. It paralyzed me, made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to run . . . run far and fast . . . away from the dirt, away from the corruption and stench of the streets . . ."

"So let's do it," Hutch desperately cut in, "We don't have to go back . . . we can start a new life, we could . . ."

"Don't you get it, Blintz?" Starsky whispered, his voice soft and resigned, "There's no running from it. It's who we are. We're cops. It's like Ellen said. The need to serve and protect is ingrained in us. So we get our dream . . . so we quit the force and get our white fenced house and life is good, until one day when we go to the grocery store down the street and its being held up by some punks . . . what are you gonna do, Hutch? Walk away?"

Hutch sighed and lowered his head, knowing his partner knew the answer to that question without him giving an answer.

Starsky snorted softly, cobalt blue eyes softening as he read his partner's face. "It's who we are, Hutch. We're cops. And all this bullshit, these nightmares, what happened to a kid named Sean Fitzgerald . . ."

Hutch looked up then, his light blue eyes searched the brunet's determined face, "Yeah, what about all of that? How are we gonna deal with . . ."

"Hey," Starsky said softly, reaching out to thump his palm against the blond's chest, "We just deal . . . and we deal with it together, like always. Me and Thee . . . who do we trust time."

It was Hutch's turn to snort softly, his large hand lifting to cover his partner's, feeling his own heart thumping beneath their joined hands, beating steadfast and strong.

"And anyway," Starsky continued, his dark blue eyes soft now with affection and emotion, "A wise man once told me, bad things happen to good people all the time. We can't control that, but maybe if you and I are still out there . . . maybe we can still change things for the better in a blink of an eye . . . whadduh ya say, partner?"

A soft chuckle shook the shoulders of the blond and the brunet soon joined in, as laughter grew stronger in the once quiet living room.

"You ready for this, pal?"

"Yeah. I guess, but I hate going through this crap!"

"I know, buddy, but if anyone can snowball a shrink . . . you're the best!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Blondie!"

Both sets of eyes turned as the door opened and Hutch stood, reaching out to shake the doctor's hand.

"Hey, I'm Detective Ken Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Detective David Starsky."

"Yes, nice to meet you both. I'm Doctor Edward Phillips," the doctor said, shaking Hutch's hand. Turning to look at the dark haired detective who remained sitting, the psychologist looked to the clipboard he was holding and then turned to his opened office door, "After you, Detective Starsky."

Hutch winked and smiled reassuringly as his partner gave him a sick look, the brunet reluctantly following the doctor into his office as the door closed behind him. The tall blond sighed and listlessly picked up one of the many magazines that were strewn over the waiting room's coffee table, his heart and mind still with his partner, wondering how Starsky would fare under the grilling that would soon ensue . . .

"Why don't you sit down over there? I'm told that armchair is the most comfortable seat I have here in my office . . . how does it feel?"

"Okay."

"Great! Would you like some coffee or tea? I have cream and sugar or . . ."

"Look . . . can we just get to the point? I don't wanna be here and the more small talk you make, just means that it'll take longer to leave."

"Okay. I totally understand, Dave. So . . . why don't you tell me why you're here."

"Read the report on your desk. I'm sure ya know why I'm here."

(A quiet chuckle fills the room.)

"I've read the report, but I'd like to hear it from you. What happened, Dave?"

~FINIS~

A/N: Many mahalos (thank-yous) go out to those who have stuck with me through this long and arduous journey and have taken the time to leave a word of encouragement and feedback. This story would never have been completed if not for you, dear readers.

Deep respect and abiding love goes out to Brook who has been a constant needle in my side to get this story completed as well as prodding me to start another one. UGH. I don't know how she does it . . . (BG)