This story is an amateur publication and does not intend to infringe upon copyrights held by any party. No reproductions without permission. Originally published in the Starsky & Hutch zine Intermission 2, in 1985 by Magic Carpet Press. Electronic scanning, typing and proofreading for the archive was generously donated by a longtime fan. Enjoy!

A dark alley, cold even with summer. Dirt and garbage littered the small passageway, sending out spiritual contamination to all who dared venture in, leaving safety behind.

Is this the way it's to end?

The gunfire was gone, but Starsky could still hear it echoing in his ears. He looked up at the moon, alternately damning it with the whole world in general, and begging the pale round face for mercy. He pleaded silently, willing himself not to let the tears fall.

Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow; as he glanced up every other second, straining for the comforting sounds of the ambulance. Blood soaked unnoticed from one body into the clothes of the other. He was aware of the warm body in his arms, and tightened his hold, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect, make it all better again. Miraculously feeling the pressure around him, Hutch managed to call his partner's name weakly.

"Hutch, listen to me -- Hang on. You've got to!"

What is it you said to me that day? That I don't need you? Tough, streetwise Starsky, practically raised myself. Alone, all those years. Yeah, I put on a really good act, didn't I? -- Even fooled you. It's a lie, Hutch. Sure, I'm independent, but only 'cause I had to be. Had to fight for what I got twice as hard as anybody else.

Real independent.

I can do anything by myself.

Except face the world...

Hang on, Hutch.