They turned onto Fifth Avenue, which ran parallel to the south end of Sandstone Park, for the third time that night. They were on night shifts now, and driving by the park was a focal point of their beat, as it was for various other patrol units, both marked and unmarked. Zebra Three did it at least once every two hours... more often if there was little else to demand their attention.

The Torino halted at a light, and Starsky made clucking noises as he saw a familiar long-haired, brunette form, hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, making her way along the park's main path. "Some people never learn," he sighed.

Hutch was staring out his side window. "Really."

They had stopped the woman three nights ago to scold her as politely as possible about the foolishness of walking alone in the park in the middle of the night when a killer was on the loose. She had thanked them for their concern, but then launched into a lecture about how if Fate intended for her to be attacked, then any precautions she took weren't going to stop it from happening. God's will was God's will. And besides, she worked at an all-night coffee shop, and if she avoided walking through the park, it would take her an extra half hour to get home.

The light turned green and Starsky gently pressed the accelerator. As the almost-deserted sidewalks continued to pass by, with no sign of anything amiss, he found himself thinking of the man sitting in the passenger seat.

He'd had a little fear, Starsky realized now, that the new element in their relationship might make their time together simply too much. They were sleeping together on a semi-regular basis... going to bed with each other, waking up with each other... in addition to their usual routine of spending at least 75% of their spare time together and 100% of their working time together. In short, it would be understandable for them to occasionally need time away from each other. And, Starsky supposed, they did separate to some degree. After all, they weren't sleeping together every night. His fear had been dispelled when he considered the fact that there were no insecure feelings or major discussions concerning their time apart. If they happened to have separate cars, and be particularly tired and not want to do anything except sleep, they usually went home to their separate apartments, and it was no big deal.

And he never got tired of Hutch when they were together.

"What are you thinking about?" The voice was gentle.

Starsky glanced in his partner's direction, smiled when he decided on the truth. "Us."

Hutch turned slightly in his seat, all ears.

Starsky shrugged. "It just seems so unbelievable sometimes, doesn't it?" The blond didn't answer, and he elaborated, "I mean, it's like a part of me wants to shout it to the whole world. And another part of me wants to keep it locked away in a very, very special place, where it's just our little secret."

The other man sighed, fingers running along his mustache. "Unfortunately, society's prejudices don't allow us much choice but to keep the secret."

For now, Starsky didn't really mind. But he suspected, in time, the hiding would become tiresome. He wasn't sure what they were going to do then, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. At present, he was enjoying the special discoveries that occurred during their time together. The awkwardness was pretty much gone. Their foreplay consisted of experimenting with different touches and positions, different speeds and different moods. That is, when there was foreplay. A lot of times, it seemed, neither had the energy to make their sex play into an elaborate performance. In fact, sometimes sex almost seemed an afterthought once the lights were out.

They went all the way only occasionally, because both had their reservations that the human body was made to withstand very much of that sort of activity. And, so far, Starsky had always been the one on top. He enjoyed that very much, especially since Hutch seemed to enjoy it so much. For himself, he was a little afraid of it, and knew the other was waiting for permission. And yet, the blond didn't seem impatient or deprived. Starsky had tried to talk about Hutch's enjoyment of the submissive position -- because it was so opposite of how they usually worked -- but the other tended to change the subject or downplay it.

"Starsky, slow down."

The words were hushed, calculating. Starsky obeyed immediately, looking out toward the passenger side of the car, as Hutch was. They had turned from Fifth onto Tempo Street, which paralleled the west side of the park. "What do you see?" he asked.

"The bushes are movi-... STOP!"

Starsky slammed on the brakes, and Hutch jumped out of the car, and was immediately on his feet and running in a direction back toward Fifth Avenue. Starsky flipped the Torino around, heading that way. He could now see where a man was grabbing from behind the lady they had seen before. Above the roar of the engine, Starsky could hear her scream. He had no time to slap on the light, but he did flip the siren as the Torino fishtailed onto Fifth Avenue, and then jumped the curb as it made its way toward the crime scene.

Hutch, with those incredibly long legs, was almost there. He paused to shoot his gun into the air, and the attacker hesitated, then took off running. Though the woman was on the ground, Starsky could see her moving, so he steered the Torino toward the fleeing man, whom Hutch was just steps behind.

Starsky floored the accelerator, the car fishtailing even more on the uneven ground, and finally passed the two men on foot. They were all approaching a small stream which a bridge crossed, and Starsky turned the car sharply to the right, cutting off access to the bridge.

Just as the Torino stopped, the assailant, unable to adjust quickly enough, slammed into the passenger side of the hood, crying out. Hutch, who would have known his partner was going to make that move, pulled himself up just enough to minimize the impact, but the air could still be heard rushing out of him as he collided on top of the man.

Starsky was out of the car, gun drawn. "Police! Hold it!"

The man looked up, continuing to cry out, and Starsky knew, at the very least, it had to be from broken ribs. He was pleased to see that Hutch, though breathless, had recovered enough to straighten and was forcing the man's legs apart.

"Spread 'em!" the blond managed. He started the search process.

Starsky joined him, producing a knife from inside the man's jacket. "You okay?" he tossed over his shoulder.

The blond gritted his teeth. "I'm better off than he is."

The man stopped groaning long enough to growl, "Fuck you!"

"I don't think so," Starsky said, relaxing slightly. "You're going to be put away for a million years." While Hutch started reciting the Miranda rights, Starsky reached into the car, called in a brief report, and summoned an ambulance. Then he looked across at Hutch as the blond placed their handcuffed captive into the back seat. "We've got to get back to the woman."

"Right." When all three were in the car, Starsky drove it more carefully across the park. They found the woman still on the ground, but she was partially sitting up, crying hysterically. Again, it was Hutch who went to her first, speaking softly, assuring her an ambulance was on the way, asking if she was hurt.

Starsky stood out of the way, not wanting to interfere, for the woman was hysterical enough as it was. Besides, Hutch looked more like "a nice guy" than he himself did, and strangers responded to the taller man more easily. Add to that the soft tenderness of the blond's voice, and it left few people that his partner couldn't charm.

The victim needed far more than charm, but under Hutch's soothing manner she quieted somewhat, and was not visibly injured. The ambulance arrived a moment later and, behind it, a few black and whites, for already the rumor was making the rounds that the Sandstone Park murderer had been caught.

Really, Starsky thought, the man was rather ordinary-looking, didn't have any strange mannerisms that would mark him as less than a model citizen. But if he didn't outright confess, then they would have their hands full trying to prove he'd committed the murders, for they'd had so little evidence to go on throughout the entire case.

* * *

It turned out to be a long shift. They questioned the man -- Edward Schneider -- for hours, with Starsky playing the heavy, for Hutch was nursing tender ribs of his own and not up to the part. Schneider had been taken to a hospital to be bandaged up, but had been released back to the custody of the police. He answered very few of their questions, for he'd summoned his lawyer, and then it was apparent that they weren't going to get much information from him. And that meant most of their energy until the trial would have to be spent gathering as much of the slim evidence as possible.

Finally, they were in the Torino, ready to go home. The sun was bathing the city in its early morning light, and since they had come in together -- having shared Starsky's bed the previous day -- they now left the parking lot as a twosome.

Hutch had his hand on his forehead, which was tilted downward. "What an anticlimax, huh?" he asked in a tired, gruff voice.

"You mean the way this whole thing is gonna drag out forever, and he may never get convicted?"

Through the corner of his eye, Starsky saw the tousled head shake. "Not just that. Just the sheer luck of us driving by the park when he attacked that woman." Hutch looked at his partner. "It wasn't brilliant, methodical detective work that brought him in."

"No, but it was brilliant observation. If you hadn't seen the bushes move funny...." Starsky smiled now. "Like the football players say, 'A win is a win and we'll take them any way we can get 'em.'"

Hutch muttered an unconvinced, "Yeah."

"How ya feelin'?" Hutch had taken some extra strength aspirin for his strained rib cage, which seemed to help a little, but now the blond looked so ragged....

"I'm probably going to be sore for a while," came the reply around a sigh.

Starsky clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Guess that means celibacy for both of us for a while."

Hutch grunted. "Not necessarily."

Starsky smiled.

* * *

A few days later, after getting some sleep after their shift, Starsky and Hutch were again at Sandstone Park, but merely as civilians. Hutch had wanted them to take Luke out for a beer, and Starsky had reluctantly agreed. Actually, the curly-haired man thought, as he and Hutch waited at the rendezvous point, he wished he hadn't been expected to come along. He wasn't really sure why Hutch wanted his company, for he always felt like he was a slightly intimidating presence. And surely, the other two would just as soon enjoy themselves together without him around. But when Hutch had seemed so hopeful that Starsky would join them, the smaller man could hardly weasel out of it.

There was a nip in the winter wind, and Starsky watched from a park bench as Hutch hunched deeper into his thick leather jacket. The blond was standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking up at a tree.

"What's so fascinatin' up there?" the seated man asked.

Hutch glanced in his partner's direction, then moved toward the bench. "Just watching the birds rustle around."

"We're gonna have to get you out of the city, nature boy. If you're findin' the urban 'wildlife' of interest, you must be feeling pretty cooped up."

Hutch looked down at Starsky from where he stood beside the bench. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to get away a bit. With the murderer in custody, we ought to be able to talk Dobey into a few days."

Starsky's eyes closed a moment. They were always so precious, these moments when Hutch reached out... and was willing to demand more of life for himself. The smaller man found his voice soft. "It would probably be good for us. You know," he bashfully met the other's eye, "just spend some time for us."

An unleashed, small dog trotted up to the bench, and Hutch bent down to pet it absently. His head tilted to one side. "Yeah," he agreed longingly.

Starsky watched him stroke and scratch the dog with those large, gentle fingers. "Where would you like to go?"

An elaborate shrug answered him. "Doesn't matter. Somewhere private. Or far away." He glanced up. "Maybe we should go somewhere we've never been before."

"That's startin' to sound like a real vacation."

"Mitzy! There you are." A large woman walked briskly up to the dog, who tried to move away, but Hutch instinctively grabbed its collar. "Thank you," she told him, then scooped the dog up and carried him away.

Hutch straightened and joined Starsky on the bench. The smaller man felt a hand rest on the back of his neck, a thumb reaching to scratch into his hairline. He had an urge to clasp Hutch's other hand right then, but restrained the impulse, not wanting to make a spectacle of themselves in public.

Maybe going somewhere very private was exactly what they needed.

"Ken, Dave."

Both looked up and saw Luke Huntley approaching. Hutch was on his feet in an instant, approaching his mentor with arms outstretched. They met in an embrace, slapping each other on the back. And then they pulled apart.

Starsky's eyes narrowed in puzzlement, for he'd never before seen the men carry out such a brief physical display. They started to look in his direction, and he forced the scowl of distrust from his face and walked up to Huntley with a deliberate stride.

"David," Huntley took his hand, clasping his shoulder with the other.

"Hi, Luke," Starsky greeted with a nod. He had not seen the man since visiting him alone at his house, which had since been sold. Huntley was now living in a small apartment, and Hutch had said something about his working part-time as a consultant for a small weapons manufacturer.

"So what do you say?" Hutch asked. "Is The Pits okay?"

Luke held up a thumb. "Sounds good to me, fellas."

Noting the same old Ford that he'd seen in Huntley's driveway, Starsky pulled out his keys. "I'll drive."

They all headed toward the Torino, and Huntley glanced about the park. "Hey, heard you guys made the arrest of a lifetime."

Hutch shrugged while they all got in. "We're a long ways from proving he committed all the murders, or even getting a solid conviction on just one of them. But at least he was denied bail."

"Still, making a safer community for everyone is what it's all about, right?"

"Right," Hutch said, and Starsky mumbled likewise.

As they drove, Hutch turned in his seat to converse with Huntley, who was in the back. They talked about anything inane in nature, and it made Starsky wonder once again why the two just didn't get together themselves, rather than having him along as a third wheel.

When they were at The Pits and settled with their beers, Hutch finally stopped making small talk. He looked Huntley in the eye. "So, Luke, how's it going?"

A pallor came over the man's face, but he nodded as he answered with forced a smile. "It's going."

Gently, Hutch said, "I bet you really miss her a lot."

Huntley shook his head, glancing at the table a moment, then back at Hutch. "Yes and no." An embarrassed snort. "In one way, she was everything," he explained softly. "In another, we never spent that much time together anyway, so...." He shrugged, quickly sipped his beer.

Starsky's discomfort increased. He decided the best remedy was to join in the conversation. Placing his chin in his hand, he quietly asked, "You stayin' busy?"

"Yeah," Luke brightened at the change in subject, "pretty much. The firm may be offering me a full-time position."

"That's good," Hutch offered.

There was an awkward silence for lack of anything meaningful to say, then Huntley suddenly said, "Hey look, fellas, I'm really okay. 1979 was one helluva rotten year, but," he gestured with his hands, "it's 1980 and the world is still here. I'm looking forward to the future."

Hutch smiled. "That's good. Glad to hear it, Luke." He nodded toward his partner. "Starsk and I have been feeling pretty run down after all the murders, but now that we have a suspect in custody, we're thinking about taking a little vacation."

Inwardly, Starsky cringed, wondering if Hutch was now going to invite Luke. Surely....

"Where are you guys going?" Huntley looked from one to the other.

"We haven't decided yet," Hutch replied. "Got any ideas?"

"That depends on what you want to do."

A shrug from the big shoulders. "We aren't sure about that, either. We mainly just want to go somewhere private. You know, get out of the city."

Starsky knew that, on the last two sentences, Hutch had started to watch what he said. Inwardly the smaller man sighed, already starting to feel tired of the fact that this is the way it would always have to be for them. It seemed so unfair.

"Skiing in the Rockies is awfully good this time of year," Huntley pointed out.

Starsky straightened. "Hey, I tried that once when I was a teenager and broke my leg. Haven't had any desire to go back since."

Hutch tilted his head. "I don't know, Luke. Skiing sounds a bit crowded."

Luke seemed to consider, then, "Well, if you guys are looking to do absolutely nothing for a few days...."

Starsky wasn't sure what that meant, but was glad that Luke was assuming he wasn't invited.

Hutch encouraged, "Yeah?"

"I've got a couple of plane tickets to Kentucky that I'm not going to use."

"Kentucky?" both detectives said in unison.

Huntley chuckled at their expressions. "Like I said, there wouldn't be anything to do, especially at this time of year, but it's quiet and fairly pretty, especially if you don't mind looking at horse farms. An old acquaintance of Doris' who owns a travel agency always sent us tickets for Doris' birthday to little obscure places." He looked down, swallowed heavily. "I hadn't told her yet about Doris, so she sent tickets again this year." He glanced up. "I don't have any use for them, so I was just going to send them back with a note of explanation. But I don't think she'd mind if I gave them to friends."

Hutch shifted, then glanced at Starsky. "I've never been to Kentucky."

Starsky's chin rested in his hand. "Neither have I." Really, he didn't give a damn where they went as long as they could shack up for a while, undisturbed... spend time together... not have to worry about where the next victim was coming from.

"Are the tickets to Louisville?" the blond asked.

Huntley shook his head. "Lexington. That's what I meant about the horse farms. Louisville is only 70 or 80 miles away if you'd like to drive up there."

Starsky suddenly snapped his fingers, straightening with excitement. "Hutch, that'd be great. I mean, maybe we can visit some of Partner for Life's relatives or somethin'."

Hutch chuckled softly, and Huntley asked the blond, "What's he talking about?"

"Oh," the taller man shrugged, "it's a horse he's been following." Again, Starsky saw the effort Hutch was making to be careful with his words. Huntley didn't know about the money they had won, and they wouldn't feel right bragging about it because of Doris.

Hutch studied at his partner, then turned to the older man. "Yeah, Luke, if you really think it would be all right with Doris' friend, we'd like to take you up on it. When are the tickets good for?"

"Later this month -- I don't remember the exact dates. It's only a few days, I think, but it doesn't sound like you're interested in anything more than that. I've got them sitting on the table at home. Why don't you take me back to my car and follow me home? You can show them to Dobey and tell him I insisted you use them."

They all chuckled at that, then rushed to finish their beers.

* * *

Dobey threw the tickets down on his desk. "You both have been carrying on for months about taking a weekend getaway. Now you want four days?"

"Come on, Captain," Hutch gestured to the tickets, "it's a gift. We've got the Sandstone Park killer behind bars. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," Dobey sat back in his chair, "is that this department has to concentrate all its energy on getting the alleged killer convicted. As things stand, we're never going to get enough evidence together in time for a murder conviction."

Starsky stepped forward to stand beside his partner. "Cap'n, having us here isn't gonna create more evidence outta thin air. Come on, we deserve this, and besides, if we have a few days to refresh ourselves we'll come back all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and eager for work."

Hutch restrained a smirk as he glanced at the bundle of energy beside him.

Dobey grunted skeptically. Then he picked up the tickets again, leafed through them. "Why in the world would anyone want to go to Lexington, Kentucky, especially in February? I've got relatives there and it's damn cold this time of year."

Starsky said, "That's where all the famous Thoroughbreds are. You know, bluegrass country and all of that."

Dobey's eyes darted from one detective to the other. "Since when have either of you been interested in Thoroughbreds?"

Hutch snatched up the tickets. "Since when do we have to explain what we want to do with our time off? Do we have the time or don't we?"

The black man had the grace to look slightly sheepish. Under his breath, he muttered, "All right. Just make sure you've got Masterson and Tuney up to speed on everything you're working on."

Hutch saluted with the tickets. "Right."

Starsky bounced toward the door. "Thanks, Cap'n."

* * *

It was still a week before their four day weekend -- a Saturday through Tuesday -- was scheduled to begin. Starsky spent the time preparing, though it was a kind of preparation that Hutch had never seen before.

"See, Hutch?" Starsky held up a book to show the blond. They were at the smaller detective's apartment.

Hutch held a basket of laundry, and put it down to look over his partner's shoulder.

Starsky pointed to a paragraph in the book. "See, it says right here that the Man O' War sire line is dyin' out. There's only a few stallions now that carry his blood directly from the sire line of their pedigree."

Based on Starsky's babblings in previous days, Hutch thought he knew what his partner was saying, but he decided to indulge him. "So?"

Starsky dropped the book to his lap with an exaggerated sigh, as though frustrated that Hutch hadn't been listening to all his newly acquired knowledge. "The so is that one of the few active stallions carrying Man O' War's blood all through the sire line is a horse called Olden Times. And Olden Times is the sire of Best Partner, who is the sire of Partner for Life."

Hutch picked up the laundry basket. "Starsky, Partner for Life is a gelding, so he's not going to breed on, anyway."

The smaller man's sigh was even louder this time. "I know that. But Best Partner is a direct descendant of Man O' War, who was one of the most famous horses of all time. And Best Partner is standing at stud at a farm in Lexington. So, we can go visit him."

Hutch was in the bedroom, putting underwear and socks into their proper drawers. "I don't know, Starsk. It seems I read somewhere once that those big farms don't like tourists visiting."

"We aren't tourists," Starsky insisted. "We have a vested interest in Best Partner. Well, in his son, anyway."

Hutch had no doubt that they could visit any farm they wanted, as long as it was left to Starsky to sweet talk anyone who would stand in their way. "I just hate to see you get your hopes up, pal." The laundry put away, Hutch returned to the living room.

"I mean," Starsky reasoned, "it's not like we're tryin' to visit Secretariat."

"Hey," Hutch teased, ruffling Starsky's hair, "now that's what I'd like to do: visit Secretariat." Looking over his shoulder at the mess on the couch, the blond was amazed at the library of books and trade journals his partner had collected on the sport of kings in just the past few days.

Starsky tilted his head back to speak, but before any words could emerge, Hutch leaned down to place his lips on top of the other's. The smaller man started to struggle -- as though still determined to speak -- and it encouraged Hutch to press all the harder. He felt the other yield to him, the firm lips so soft beneath his, and he placed both hands on the other's shoulders and massaged with a deliberate motion. Finally, ages later, they separated, and Hutch whispered, "You were saying?"

Starsky looked him right in the eye, his breath brushing against Hutch's mustache. "I was sayin' I never knew devils came in blond."