Title: Baby Blue

Author/pseudonym: Creed Cascade

Fandom: Starsky and Hutch

Pairing: Starsky and Hutch.

Rating: NC-17.

Status: new, work in progress

Archive: Yes, oh yes.

Series/Sequel: If you beg nicely.

Disclaimers: The faces are familiar and so are the names, but the setting seems a little strange? I kidnapped a few cuties from television land. I accept that they never did and never will belong to me, but I am having oh so much fun while I have them.

Notes: This is just from my poor little brain working over time after I watched reruns of our boys one night. It's an answer to the question, "What if."

Summary: There's a second baby blue in Starsky's life.

BABY BLUE

By Cascade Creed

It was one of those rare Saturdays that the detectives had a weekend off and were allowed the opportunity to sleep in. The drapes were drawn and it was hard to distinguish separate entities from the combined mound of flesh and sheets. A loud buzz caused the curly brown head to move from his comfortable pillow of golden flesh. One groggy blue eye opened and looked at the alarm clock -- 10:37 a.m. With a quick swipe from his hand he knocked the offending timepiece on the floor. The buzzing didn’t stop.

"What’zat," came a mumbled complaint from his bed partner.

"Hell -- I think it’s the goddamn door blondie," Starsky answered as he snuggled back into his warm cocoon of blankets.

"Get up and answer your door."

In response to his comment, Starsky only heard a grunt.

"Come on, Hutch, answer your door."

Hutch merely flung his arm to cover his eyes in the already dark room. Starsky sighed and began to untangle his limbs from his lover’s. Normally, he would just shove the larger man out of bed and insist he greet their unwelcome guest. But his partner had been working so hard the past week that he could barely remain standing when they finally made it home last night. A smile crossed his face when he remembered that no matter how exhausted Hutch was, he never passed up a good fuck.

It took a moment for Starsky to realize that both men were still naked from last night’s festivities. He considered Hutch’s orange tattered robe, but sniffled with disgust. Instead he grabbed a pair of rumpled jeans he assumed were his and quickly dressed. The damn doorbell was still ringing.

Starsky moved towards Hutch’s front door with a bare chest and feet. Whoever had the nerve to disturb their precious free time would have to put up with his hairy exposed torso. The doorbell continued to screech its protest.

"*Alight already* - I’m coming!" Starsky yelled as his hand slipped onto the door handle.

Starsky flung open door and shielded his eyes from the bright light. Once his eyes adjusted, he met the gaze of a complete stranger. A gruff man well past middle age was measuring up Starsky with a critical eye.

"Hutchison? Kenneth Hutchison? I have something that belongs to you," the man spat.

"Well actually I’m not him, but can I help you?"

The man crossed his arms and cleared his throat. "Does Hutchison live here?"

The crazies always seemed to find them. Starsky rolled his eyes at his bad luck.

"Yes, Mr. Hutchison lives here. He’s sleeping. Whatever business you have with him, I can take care of."

"Fine, I don’t care as long as I get this off of my hands!"

The man made a quick turn and reached to pick up an object obscured behind him. Starsky tensed and readied himself to wrestle the man to ground if necessary. He could only freeze when he saw what the older man held in his hands. It was an old-fashioned basinet. He was definitely not expecting that. The stranger shoved the basinet at Starsky and he hastily wrapped his arms around the object. His blue eyes peered over the edge to fall upon a sleeping baby.

"What the fuck!" Starsky gasped, "What’s your game, old man?"

"That belongs to Hutchison."

"Hutch -- get in here, now!" Starsky bellowed.

Starsky winced when he saw the sleeping baby stir. He eyes darted across the room to see his partner emerge from the bedroom wearing his hideous orange robe. His hair was stuck out in every-which-way and he was rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"What’s the matter, Starsk?"

The old man met this display with a look of disgust. Starsky’s gaze drifted between the stranger, the basinet and his lover. He only hoped this was a very bad dream. The baby made a few squawking noises and he sadly realised this was all too real.

"Starsk? What the hell is --"

The old man interrupted, "You Hutchison?"

"What if I am?" the blonde countered.

"That --" the stranger jerked his thumb at the basinet, "-- is yours."

"Excuse me?"

"You’re the father of this bastard and I want no part of it. It’s your responsibility now. Just don’t say I didn’t do my duty by the child."

The man began to move towards the steps. Hutch stormed past Starsky and seized the stranger’s shoulder to stop his departure.

"Explain yourself, you crazy bastard. Where’s this child’s mother?"

The man shook off Hutch’s grip in revulsion.

"She’s dead," he hissed

Hutch took one step back from the figure.

"What?"

"She killed herself in mourning for you. The crazy broad didn’t have the courage to do it before she birthed the lil’bastard. It was born in a loony bin. The staff tracked me down as her only living kin and gave it to me. But, I know you’re the father because she put it in the suicide note. It’s your problem now, not mine."

"Who’s the mother?" Hutch stammered.

"Diana Harmon."

"That’s not possible --"

"Hey, I don’t care if it is yours or not. You look like a fag to me anyways, but Diana said you were the Papa, so it’s your problem now. Drown the kid in a bag for all I care."

The man turned to leave with the intention of never returning.

"What a minute -- Mr. -- uhhhh -- Mr. Harmon? We need some more information."

"Listen, I do not care! All the stuff the loony bin docs gave to me is with the lil’bastard. That’s all I got. I’m done with this."

The man stormed down the stairs and Hutch stood outside the doorway frozen. Starsky shook his head.

"Look’s like I gotta be the sane one here, uh? Come back in, babe. We’ll work this out, you’ll see."

Starsky wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort himself or Hutch more, but his words seemed to work. Hutch moved slowly into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Starsky went to the chesterfield and set the bassinet gently down. The baby was making little mewling noises that made his stomach turn. He looked more carefully at the baby and saw the poor little thing was turning blotchy reddish colours. Its little face was scrunched up and fists were waving in the air. Without a further thought he reached into the bassinet and cautiously picked up the whining bundle. He clasped the baby against his bare chest and it immediately began to quiet.

"It’s got blonde hair just like you, Hutch," Starsky whispered as he ran his fingers tips gently over the baby’s downy head.

"It’s not an it. What I mean is -- it’s got to be a boy or girl. You know what I mean, Starsk?" Hutch was babbling. He always babbled when he was nervous.

"Of course I do, but the blanket and clothes are no help. Yellow, ya know. Must be all that new age crap about not peg holing babies, but it doesn’t help us now. Hutch, look in the bassinet, maybe there’s something in there that will help."

Hutch stopped pacing and stared at his partner. He moved towards the bassinet, glared at the furniture like this was all somehow its fault and grabbed a manila envelope that lined the bottom. He went into cop mode and searched the outside of the envelope for evidence -- there was nothing. He slipped out some paperwork and began to read.

"According to this, our pissy friend’s name there was Vic Harmon. Diana Harmon’s uncle and only living relative. It seems that Diana gave birth in the state mental institution. Says here she slashed her wrists two weeks after the baby was born."

Hutch looked up from the paper and gazed in amazement at his lover. Starsky was rocking the baby smoothly and making little cooing sounds.

"Starsky, this isn’t much to go on. There’s no birth certificate or even a copy of the suicide note. The only thing in this envelope was a letter from a doctor at the state hospital. It didn’t even say if it’s a boy or girl. He or she doesn’t even have a name. They only referred to it as Baby Harmon."

"Poor little thing, no name and no one to love ya. Well at least we can stop referring to you as ‘it’ and there’s only one sure fire way to tell that."

Starsky stabilized the baby against his chest with one arm and moved the bassinet onto the coffee table with the other. He spread the blanket out on the couch cushion and laid the baby out. Swiftly he lifted the little yellow shirt and moved to unclip the cloth diaper.

"Congratulations, babe, it’s a girl!" Starsky crowed with a lopsided smile.

Hutch groaned and covered his face with his hands. Starsky just shook his head and laughed as he did back up the diaper.

"It’s a good thing she didn’t spend any more time with that asshole. Oops, I guess I should watch my language, huh?"

"It’s a baby’s. I mean *she* -- she can’t even understand what going around her let alone what a foul mouth you have. Is there anything wrong with her? Is she alright?" Hutch questioned.

"She’s fine, but think about it," Starsky continued to talk as he wrapped the baby up and picked her back up, "She’s not wearing enough clothes. She should be covered head to toe with a little hat or whatever on and do you see any extra diapers or food? It’s a good thing she found us."

Hutch was pacing again. "Maybe we should phone social services?" he blurted out mid stride.

"No," Starsky replied sharply.

"Why?" Hutch demanded. He was surprised at the force with which his lover had refused that option.

"Because Hutch, what if this is your kid? I don’t want to turn her over to strangers. That’s just not right."

"I guess not, but we have to do something. There’s got to be forms to fill out and officials to notify. Hell, we’ve got to get a blood test to be conclusive."

"Calm down, blondie. You don’t wanna worry the baby, do you? First things first -- we have to go shopping." Starsky smiled at his lover happily, "Ya know this little girl has blue eyes just like you, baby blue."

"Blue eyes -- I think all babies have blue eyes at birth and why do we need to go shopping?"

"Poor Hutch, you weren’t listening earlier were you? We need diapers, formula, bottles, baby clothes, blankets and a crib -- I mean she can’t sleep in that old bassinet."

Hutch was running his hands nervously through his blonde hair as the list of baby supplies continued.

"Whoa, just one minute. Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves. I mean we don’t even know if that is Diana Harmon’s baby or if it’s mine. I mean, what are the odds -- I only slept with her one night."

"It’s been known to happen before. Do the math, Hutch. You were with Diana ten months ago. The baby looks like she is only a few weeks old. It’s a very real possibility and we have to accept that."

Hutch plopped down on the couch’s arm next to Starsky. He ran his hand over his lover’s shoulder and gently squeezed his neck.

"What are we going to do?" Hutch sounded like a lost little boy.

"Well I can tell you for sure we are going to handle this quietly, Hutch. I don’t want social services involved if we can help it. I think we should contact Dobey right away and ask for some time off. He can also help us get everything together. We have to get a blood test to see if she match’s your blood type. Diana’s blood type is on her police file and that will give us a little more information. After that I think we should contact the doctor who wrote that letter."

"Sounds like a good plan to me and here I thought I was the brains of the operation," Hutch smiled fondly.

"Depends, which head are you talking about?"

"Hey, I seem to recall --"

"Never mind," Starsky smiled, "We’ve got some shopping to do."

Hutch groaned at the countless worrisome possibilities of Starsky in a baby store.

"Starsky, don’t you think we should make a list of what we need? I know we need baby formula and all that paraphernalia, but what about brand names and stuff? I have no idea."

Starsky stopped to think for a minute. He had a basic idea of what they needed, but maybe a detailed list was best. He braced the baby against his shoulder and got off the chesterfield, moving towards the phone. Cradling the calmed baby with one arm, he used his free hand to dial the familiar number.

"What are you doing?" Hutch questioned.

"Calling an expert," Starsky answered with the flash of a bright smile.

"Are you calling Edith Dobey?"

Starsky shook his head and concentrated on the ringing in the receiver. Starsky soon started to talk and Hutch listened to the one sided-conservation with interest.

"Hi Ma, you are home – yes, everything’s fine – what can’t I just call to talk? – yes, I know Ma – yes, Ma – well actually I did call to get your help – I know, I don’t know everything, I can admit that – okay, you see this friend of ours unexpectedly got his niece for the week – family emergency, Ma – anyways, he has no idea what a baby needs – under a month – yes, that young – can you tell us what to buy for a baby? – okay, mmm hmmm."

Starsky had the phone scrunched between his head and shoulder, writing like mad. With the swaying of his upper body, the baby girl began to cry. Starsky quickly turned and motioned to Hutch and handed him the little bundle. Hutch froze in panic, not wanting to drop the baby and not sure what do about the crying.

"Shit," Starsky whispered, "-- are you sure you heard something? – yes, I know your not stupid – a baby? Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that our friend is over here for a visit and he – yes, Ma I know you can tell when I’m lying – no, Ma I swear I didn’t get a girl in trouble, really I – no, you don’t have to come here – Ma, we’re just taking care of baby for a friend and – Ma, Ma are you there?"

Starsky was looking at the phone with a panicked expression on his face. Hutch was amazed that this man could remain calm during a shoot out, but reduced to near terror by a little old lady.

"She hung up?!" Starsky blurted out, "I am such a dead man."

"Welcome to club, stud," Hutch chuckled.

Starsky glared at him with flaming blue eyes. Hutch always thought he looked hot we he was pissed off.

"You’re holding the baby like she’s a football. Give her to me," Starsky held out his arms.

Hutch gladly handed over the baby to the more competent half of the partnership.

"Let’s get dressed and go shopping. No point in putting it off," Hutch called on his way towards the bathroom.

Maybe a fieldtrip was the best thing for everyone right now.

<><><><><><>

It was several hours later that two very tired men and a crying baby stumbled into Venice Place. Starsky was carrying the baby who was now wearing a fresh diaper and new clothes from head to toe. Hutch struggled behind the twosome laden with numerous packages.

"Whoever would have thought such a little critter would need so much stuff. I don’t know which hurts more, my back or my credit card," the blonde complained.

"You’re just mad that the salesladies kept looking at us funny," Starsky chuckled.

"What -- don’t men ever go out with babies? It’s not like we were dragging her around by the hair."

"Yes, men do go out with babies, but rarely one as gorgeous as you. You two did look good together, ya know. My two blondes."

"Starsky," Hutch warned, "Don’t get too attached to her, we don’t even know if she’s my daughter or not."

"Sure, Hutch," Starsky was pacifying him again, "But I know where I am going to place my bets."

Hutch merely glared at him and huffed a bit. He set his packages down and pulled the box marked CRIB into the middle of the room. Starsky had insisted on a new crib and bedding saying that used furniture couldn’t be trusted. He pulled out the instructions and threw them next to the couch. Screw driver in hand he was sure he would be done in no time.

"How hard can it be to put together a baby’s bed," he muttered.

Several hours after those infamous last words and one grumpy big blonde later, there was a fully assembled crib in his once childfree apartment. Somehow Starsky had managed to wash, change and settle the baby down for the night. They were now sitting on the chesterfield together with Starsky pressed against Hutch’s chest. Hutch had his arms snaked around the jean-clad waist and his head rested on Starsky’s shoulder. They were both looking at a book grasped in the brunette’s hands.

"Eileen?" questioned Starsky.

"I like it, but she doesn’t look like an Eileen."

"Mavis?"

Hutch made a face at that suggestion, "No, makes me think of my grandmother."

"Mmmmm, what about Bella?"

"Didn’t you already suggest that one?"

"Yeah, I like," Starsky pointed at the lined page, "It says here it means beautiful, she’s beautiful."

"Keep going, babe." Hutch snuck his hand under Starsky’s shirt and began to play with the chest hair.

"Well, if you weren’t so picky, we could have finished this an hour ago."

"Hey, I was just happy to keep calling her baby and you were the one who was conned into buying the baby book."

"It’s just not a baby book, blitz. It has all the meanings of the names and the meaning of a name is real important. Don’t wanna call a baby something then find out it means cabbage in some foreign language," Starsky countered, "And we have to call her something. I looked up Kenneth as it means ‘one who is handsome or of fire’. I definitely think there’s truth in that."

"Flattery will get you no leverage this time."

Starsky began to thumb through the book and skimmed the words. He stopped suddenly and squinted at the page.

"Fiona," he crowed.

"What?"

"F-I-O-N-I-A. Fiona. It’s Irish and means ‘fair-complexioned’. I think that suits the baby."

Starsky glanced back at Hutch with big blue puppy dog eyes.

"Fiona, huh? Well, I can live with that. At least it’s better than Bella."

Starsky turned and kissed Hutch full on the lips. His tongue slipped into the willing mouth and both men lowered themselves back onto the couch. Hands began to wander everywhere and soon both men were panting heavily. Starsky’s hand was just working its way into Hutch’s pants when their mutual haze was interrupted by a shrill cry.

"Ah, the joys of parenthood," Starsky quipped, "Let’s go and see what Fiona wants."

Starsky heaved himself off of his prone partner and moved towards the crib. He smiled when heard Hutch mutter, "Life is so unfair."

<><><><><><>

It was a very long night that slowly became one very long morning. Fiona was fed according to the directions on the back of the formula container. They both checked her diaper and changed it when it obviously had to be done. But the poor little girl didn’t stop crying and couldn’t be comforted in the strange environment. Both men took turns either pacing the floor or rocking her back and forth. It was around noon on Sunday when little Fiona finally succumbed to sleep.

Both men were used to sleep depravation from their job, but this was way more tiring than any stake out or bust they could remember. Sleep seemed like the best idea, but neither man was known for following commonsense. When they were stressed, they usually found two ways to release it – a screaming match or sex. Screaming was definitely out of the question with a sleeping baby in the next room, so it wasn’t surprising when the two bodies fell onto the bed. Quietly they removed their clothes that were sporadically spattered with baby spit and dumped them onto the floor.

"We’ll make this quick, babe and then we can catch some sleep," Starsky muttered as he pushed the blonde back and straddled his waist.

"Uh huh, sure, whatever," Hutch whispered as he kissed his lover’s neck, "Come here, Starsk."

Hutch wrapped his large hand into the brown curls and drew his lover down for a kiss. Starsky was happy to oblige and soon both sweaty bodies were plastered together. The only sound to be heard in the apartment was the steady rhythm of squeaking bed springs. They rocked together with a familiar rhythm and their cocks slid blissfully against each other. Hutch’s palms moved to grasp his lover’s ass cheeks and pulled him even closer.

Both men were groaning softly and kissing passionately. Their eyes were closed and they were solely focused on their nearing completion. The only thing that could have stopped them was the cry of a baby and everything else was blocked out. Starsky began to pump his hips with greater thrusts and stopped suddenly when he heard a gasp, followed by a loud crash. His eyes flew open and he turned to see a figure standing in the doorway. He was frozen for a spit second before he fell off of Hutch and grabbed for a sheet to cover them.

"Fuck, oh, fuck," Starsky wheezed.

Two sets of blue eyes met a very confused set of brown eyes.

"Davey?"

"Ma, It’s not what – I mean I can explain --"

Those brown eyes hardened and her lips drew into a tight scowl. Hutch clutched the sheet to his waist and looked like he was going to bolt. The baby began to cry in the background.

"Can it, Davey! I got the key from your house. When you weren’t there, I thought you’d be hiding over here. We obviously have a lot to talk about, young man."

"Ma, what are you doing here?"

"What was I supposed to do, mmmm? I knew you’d gotten yourself into trouble," she eyed Hutch critically, "but I obviously didn’t know exactly what kind of trouble."

All five feet four inches of spitfire and greying hair turned and walked towards the baby crib. Starsky eyes widened even further and he stumbled out of the bed, taking the sheet with him. Hutch made a snippy indignant noise and covered his exposed parts with his hands. Starsky wrapped the sheet into a pseudo toga and chased after his mother. Hutch grabbed a pair of pants off of the floor and quickly discovered they were Starsky’s when he couldn’t button them all the way up. He wasn’t sure which was more uncomfortable, the tight encasement of denim or facing off with the two Starsky’s. Definitely the latter, his mind screamed. Hutch resigned himself to his fate and followed after his partner as he would have in any situation, regardless of the danger. Starsky was creeping slowly towards his mother with one hand grasping the sheet and the other held up palm up -- the international sign of surrender.

"Ma?" he croaked.

She was peering into the crib at the crying baby and both of her fists were knotted against the railing. When she heard her son speak she spun around quickly to face off.

"Tell me what I’m supposed to think, Davey. Tell me."

"Ma, I’m sorry."

Starsky’s eyes were downcast with shame. Hutch couldn’t bear to see his lover in pain.

"Mrs. Starsky, we lo--"

"You," she interrupted Hutch, "You just be quiet."

His jaw snapped shut mid-syllable. Quiet, he could do quiet. Mrs. Starsky turned her assault back onto her offspring.

"You’ve got to enlighten me here. Because right now my mind is thinking you knocked a girl up and she left you. Did she find out about you two? Is that why she abandoned the baby?"

"There’s no mother, she’s dead."

"I see and what were you planning on doing? You’re a cop. You aren’t married and evidently--," she glared at Hutch again, "--you like boys now. What were you thinking, Davey?"

"Ma, I don’t think we really know what’s going down."

Mrs. Starsky shook her head and sighed deeply, "You always were the most trouble."

Starsky winced at her last comment. Hutch knew he always tried hard to please his mother.

"Well, I might as well get a good look at my grandchild."

She reached into the crib and picked up the squawking baby. Behind her turned back, Hutch was mouthing the words --tell her-- and making strange movements with his hands. Starsky was shaking his head and pointing back at his partner. They immediately froze when she turned around.

"Ma, we have something to tell you."

"Sush, I’m busy here."

Starsky looked back at Hutch and shrugged his shoulders. Mrs. Starsky made disappointed tsking noises and picked at the too-large sleeper hanging off of the baby. She pulled the little pink cap off and ran her hand over the blonde locks. Her finger traced down the forehead, between an unfocused pair of blue and stopped at the end of her tiny nose. She continued to gently bounce the quieting baby and her forehead scrunched up in concentration. She stared at the baby for a few final seconds and then turned to her son.

"This child isn’t yours. This is definitely not a Starsky," she emphasized, "Either that girl was lying to you, or you two hoodlums have got some serious explaining to do."

Starsky’s eyes darted between his mother and lover. He waited for Hutch to nod before he spoke, "The baby is Hutch’s."

Hutch kind of choked and added, "Well, we aren’t even sure she’s mine yet, Mrs. Starsky."

Mrs. Starsky shook her head in the universal sign of mothers everywhere that meant ‘grant me patience with these idiots’.

"Call me, Ma. You might as well. I mean you’ve done everything with my son except marry him. It’s really not that big of a shock finding out. I’ve suspected for a while now," she turned and glared at her son this time, "It was the shock of finding out the way I did that did me in."

Starsky was sputtering like a fish out of water, "What do you mean you’ve suspected?"

Mrs. Starsky moved beside her son and cuffed him on the back of the head, "Davey, I’m old, not stupid."

"Of course not Ma, I never thought you were."

She rolled her eyes.

"Dear, you’ve always talked about your friend a lot, but in the last year or so, it’s only been about him. Hutch this, Hutch that. No talk of girls."

"You’re not mad?"

"Not mad, disappointed."

"I’m sorry," Starsky mumbled.

"I’m disappointed you never told me."

Starsky’s eyes flashed with surprise and his mother snorted, "Oh, I’m not such an ol’stick in the mud. I know the ways of the world. Living in New York I’ve seen everything twice, David Michael Starsky. Hell, your Uncle even had a little boyfriend before he got married. I guess in this day and age you two can just forego the girl thing if that’s what you want. I can’t say I don’t wish you would get married to a nice girl and give me lots of grandbabies, but I’ll cope."

"Ma, I don’t know what to say," he stuttered.

"Don’t say anything. Shut up and hold this baby," she handed Fiona to him, "I have to have a talk with your friend."

She turned to Hutch and put her hands on her hips. He realized how stupid he must look in jeans two sizes too small and cuffs riding up his calves. He shifted from foot to foot and truly appreciated for the first time the panic his partner had faced.

"What’s your real name? I won’t be calling you that ghastly Hutch name like my son."

Starsky snickered but stopped when his mother fixed a frown at him.

"Kenneth Hutchison."

"Alright, Kenny. What exactly are your intentions with my son?"

Starsky couldn’t stop shaking from his perch on the back of the couch.

Hutch locked eyes directly with his lover. "I love him."

"Well that’s all fine and dandy, but what are your intentions? I mean is this some fling for you? Are you going to run off on him with the next pretty little thing that struts by? If that’s the case, I want this all to stop now because I know my Davey and he’s fallen hard for you. If it’s not serious you tell us both now."

Hutch’s mind was swimming in upheaval. The only clear thought to permeate the muddle was the fact that he now knew where Starsky got his passion from.

"Like I said, I love him. I have loved him for years and I will love him the rest of my life. He’s it for me. I would die for him, ma’am."

"Ma, I said call me Ma. I thought as much. Davey always did have a weakness for blondes."

Hutch smiled at that last comment.

"But don’t think you’re off the hook, mister. What are you two going to do about that baby? What’s her name?"

"Fiona," the two men answered in unison.

"Well then, what are you two going to do about Miss Fiona Hutchison?"

"Actually, Mrs. Starsky," he stopped when he met a patented Starsky glare, "Ma, I mean. We don’t even know if she’s mine."

"Men!" she sputtered, "Of course she’s yours. She may not be a Starsky, but she looks every inch to me like a waspy Hutchison if you are any judge of type. Are you going to keep her?"

Hutch was silent with shellshock. He could barely handle one Starsky, but two of them put him at a loss for words.

"Yes," answered Starsky for him.

Mrs. Starsky turned to look at her son in his silly bed sheet and holding a squirming baby. She always thought he would make a good father, but never imagined it this way.

"Oh my poor Davey, you’ve fallen hard for both blondes, haven’t you?"

"Yes, Ma," he nodded.

"Well, that settles it then. Kenny get out of those ridiculous jeans that I suspect aren’t yours and change into something decent. You’ll find my bags out in the hall. Davey, give me Fiona and go put some pants on. Then we can have a nice discussion over Sunday brunch."

Both just stood there with their jaws hanging open.

"Don’t look so shocked. I’m moving in. I’m surprised this child is still in one piece after spending anytime alone with you two. You want to keep her -- I plan to help."

"What about New York?" Starsky asked.

"What about your home and family?" Hutch added.

"New York is too cold anyway. As for my home, it’s lonely by myself in that stuffy old apartment. As for my family, Davey is my family. Nicky doesn’t need me anymore and I’m going where I’m needed. Now, move!"

Hutch and Starsky jumped into action. Starsky handed Fiona over to his mother and nearly tripped over his sheet in his rush to get back to the safety of their bedroom. Hutch grabbed the heavy suitcases from the hall and dragged them into the living room. He had a strange feeling that they had just gained a very good ally with a strange desire to bring every heavy object in New York with her.

<><><><><><>

"Ah, hell. My back is killing me," Hutch complained from the passenger seat of the Torino.

"And do think mine is faring any better, *partner*? I mean we’re supposed to share everything fifty-fifty, but you sure as hell had more than your fair share of that couch last night."

Hutch crossed his arms and stretched his long legs out as much as possible in his classic sulking position. He huffed, "Need I remind you that we wouldn’t be in this predicament if *your* mother wasn’t sleeping in *my* bed last night."

Starsky only smiled back at him and tapped the steering wheel. "Well, she sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep on the couch or curl up on the floor. If it wasn’t for her, we’d have to bring Fiona with us to beg time off from Dobey."

Images of their captain blowing a gasket and waking a sleeping Fiona flashed through Hutch’s mind. He knew he needed a good night’s sleep when he would rather face off against a pissed-off captain, than a cranky baby.

"Good point. But Starsk, it’s just not normal. I mean it’s like we don’t even faze her. My own mother wouldn’t even shake your hand, let alone sleep in the same bed she caught us fucking in."

Starsky only chuckled at the show of uncertainty his partner was putting on.

"We did change the sheets, baby blue. My family never claimed to be normal. We’re full of black sheep and the white sheep in the family get a dye job."

"Funny, Starsk, real funny."

Their debate was interrupted when a female voice squawked over the radio, "Zebra Three, Zebra Three – patch through from Captain Dobey--"

"Starsky – Hutchison? Where are you?" the familiar gruff voice of their captain demanded.

Starsky reluctantly responded, "We’re en route to the precinct, Captain. Sorry, we’re late, but we had a family emergency. We need to talk to you about--"

"Never mind that. Dispatch just reported a domestic disturbance in progress at 1027 1/2 Ocean Boulevard. Venice Place, Hutchison, I double checked."

Starsky dropped the radio set onto the seat, "Shit, Ma – the baby!"

Hutch slapped the flashing light onto the roof of the car as Starsky manoeuvred a quick u-turn. Soon the Torino was speeding back towards Venice Place and both men ignored the voice of their yelling captain over the radio.

As the Torino screeched to a halt in front of Venice Place, two bodies flung themselves out of the still running vehicle and drew their guns. Both figures froze in place when they saw the bizarre scene in front of them.

Huggy was huddled behind a nearby garbage can. The strangest thing of all was why he was taking shelter. Just as Hutch and Starsky exchanged a questioning look, a small projectile launched itself out of the open front door and exploded onto the concrete sidewalk after ricocheting off the heavily dented can. Huggy flinched and lifted the garbage can lid higher over his head.

He glanced over at the recently arrived reinforcements and shouted out, "HA! See, now the cops are here and you’re in for it!"

The instant response was a high-pitched, sharp laugh and another bombardment that landed squarely on its target. Starsky holstered his gun and began to move closer to Huggy, but before he could get close enough, two more rounds launched themselves from the doorway. They slammed against Huggy’s makeshift shield and he crowed in laughter after the last one landed.

"That’s the last one! I know for sure that’s the last one. Twelve, I counted twelve!"

Hutch moved in behind his partner and reviewed the scene around them. The doorway to the stairway was propped open and the perpetrator was hiding behind it. The sidewalk was littered with what appeared to be leaking and smashed aluminium cans. Huggy was glaring at them with one eye and the other was already swollen shut. The eye in question was turning funny colours and rimmed by a dark circle where a can had impacted directly with his flesh.

"Police!" Starsky shouted, "Come out with your hands up!"

The door flew open and a figure rushed towards Starsky.

"Oh, Davey, thank God you’re finally home!"

A truly confused Starsky was engulfed by his mother who rained kisses on his face.

"You know this crazy chick, Starsky?!" Huggy protested.

"This crazy chick is my mother."

"Oh, shit." Huggy clutched the side of his head and brushed the wet spots off his red polyester suit.

Mrs. Starsky turned around and confronted the haggard Huggy, "Arrest this man!"

"What for, Ma?"

"He tried to break in. Luckily, I was there to stop him and save Fiona."

"I don’t care if she’s your mother or not, she’s insane," Huggy contradicted, "Why in the hell would I break into that dump? I was only doing Hutch a favour and who in the hell is Fiona?"

Starsky stepped between his mother and friend, "Never mind that right now. Tell me what happened, Hug."

Huggy shrugged his shoulders and moved further away from the Starsky duo. "Fine, man. I was just delivering Hutch’s beer--"

"Oh no, don’t tell me that my Fleck’s all over the sidewalk," Hutch moaned. He looked forlornly at the various puddles almost considering if it could be salvaged.

"The one and only," Huggy continued, "You know how long it took me to find a distributor who carries Fleckunteen -- Flackatein -- Fluck--"

"Fleckenstein--"

"Hutch," Starsky groaned.

"As I was saying, brother. Hutch ordered that Minnesota firewater for this weekend a few weeks back and you guys never bothered to pick it up. I thought I was doing you a favour by dropping it off this morning. I know where the key is and I was just going to slip it into the fridge. One minute I’m opening the door, the next thing I know I’m being attacked with a broom. That hellcat chased me out into hall and when I tried to explain what was going down, she started to throw beer cans at me."

Mrs. Starsky peered behind her son, "And I hit you, too."

"Ma," her son warned.

"Don’t you *Ma* me. I was feeding Fiona and the next thing I know I hear someone fiddling with the door. I knew you two weren’t supposed to be back for hours, so I did what needed to be done to protect the baby."

"Baby?" Huggy croaked.

"Yes, a baby. Speaking of the baby, I’m going back upstairs. She’s been left alone for too long as it is. You three boys can take care of this mess," she began to move towards the doorway and called over her shoulder, "Obviously you know him, but warn me next time if you’re expecting company and what kind of name is Huggy?"

Before anyone could answer, she was already out of sight. The three men stood looking at each other and the mess around them.

"So which of you is the proud Papa?" Huggy questioned.

"Papa to who?" a deep voice boomed out behind the threesome.

All three turned in time to see Captain Dobey surveying the carnage. Things could not get any worse.

"Oh shit," were all the language skills Hutch could manage.

"Captain," Starsky attempted to be smooth, "What are you doing here?"

By the look on Dobey’s face, Starsky’s crack at nonchalance had failed miserably. Maybe things could get far worse if the throbbing vein doing the cha-cha on Dobey’s forehead was any indication.

"What do you think I’m doing here?!" he bellowed. "One minute I’m telling you two bozos about a disturbance at Hutch’s place and the next thing I know the line went dead. What was I supposed to think?"

"Ah--" Starsky managed to croak out before his Captain went on.

"I’ll tell you what I was supposed to think! I was thinking you two had managed to get messed up in another sad state of affairs. Knowing your past I could only imagine what it was and I had a sneaking suspicion it would have to be kept under wraps. Am I right or am I right?"

"What were the choices again?" Starsky managed a lopsided grin.

Dobey huffed a bit and shook his head. Hutch merely glared at his partner’s ill-fated attempt at humour.

Hutch interceded, "Captain, you’re right on all accounts. But I don’t think we should discuss it out here. Everyone come upstairs and we’ll explain things the best we can."

"What about this mess? It’s a public hazard." Dobey eyed the catastrophe with distain.

"Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Starsky will take you up."

Starsky glared at Hutch as he turned towards the doorway. When Starsky looked back through the window he saw Hutch hand a folded bill to a street bum who proceeded to pick up the aluminium wreckage. Hutch leaned against the wall and waved at his partner who was trapped between a pissed off Dobey and a nosy Huggy.

<><><><><><>

Hutch glared at his watch and decided he couldn’t put off going in anymore. He had spent at least five minutes on the street and now here he was standing outside of his door, afraid to go in. There was no screaming filtering through the door. In fact, things were too quiet to be possibly normal with this bunch. Warily he opened the door and squinted at the strange scene before him.

Starsky was sitting in a chair feeding Fiona and his mother was boiling bottles in a large pot. Captain Dobey was making goo-goo eyes at the baby and only frowned when he saw Hutch enter the room. Huggy was hunched over the kitchen table with a bag of frozen something plastered to this face.

"Ummm, hi," Hutch turned to Starsky and muttered, "What’s going on?"

"We were just waiting for you Hutch," Starsky replied with a practiced feral grin.

"Appears they didn’t want to start the fun without you, Hutchison. Both were tight lipped about this gorgeous little lady. Now that you are here, I want answers."

"Of course, Captain. But first of all, is Huggy okay? He’s too quiet."

Starsky chuckled, "With nothing better to do, Huggy and Ma got better acquainted. He’s still recovering, but I’m not sure he’ll ever be the same."

"Oh, will you boys be serious! Hawthorne is just fine," Mrs. Starsky felt the need to point out.

Huggy groaned and buried his head further into the frozen mystery food.

Hutch mouthed silently to Starsky, "Hawthorne?"

Starsky merely raised his eyebrows and whispered back, "Don’t ask."

"I heard that, Davey. Let’s get things straight here. Hawthorne and I had a little *discussion* about his birth name. I had no intention of calling him that horrid nickname and I down right couldn’t call him ‘hey you’. After a little convincing he told me his proper name and there’s nothing wrong with Hawthorne. It has character."

"Oh yeah, likes he *needs* more character," Hutch mumbled.

Hutch reminded himself to comfort poor Huggy after this was all over. He had been on the receiving end of the Starsky whirlwind and could easily understand how the man had revealed a name that was rumoured to be known only by the IRS.

Dobey changed the topic to one both Starsky and Hutch would rather avoid. "That’s enough stalling, how did you two manage to get your hands on a baby? Cough it up."

"Well, you see Captain, there are these birds and then there’s some bees--"

"Starsk," Hutch warned and turned back to Dobey, "It’s actually a complicated story."

"We have all the time in world. If I can endure physical injury at the hands of your mother, I can stand your ravings," Huggy finally piped up.

"Alright," Hutch grunted, "Like I said this is complicated. I never really meant for it to happen, but Starsky and I are going to deal with it together. Do you remember about ten months ago when I--"

"Oh, you’ll never get to the bottom of this matter at this rate," Mrs. Starsky interrupted, "You’ll have to excuse my boys, they are just unnerved with the prospect of being daddies. Fiona belongs to Kenny and I have to say I’m happy to get a grandchild at all, now that they are sleeping together."

Four sets of jaws hit the floor and the only sound in the room was Fiona slurping away at her bottle.

"Ma, I can’t believe you just--"

"What? You can’t believe that I just told your boss and friend that you’re lovers and that Kenny couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants ten months back. Grow up, Davey. You have some tough truths to face and sugar coating them won’t make it any easier."

Huggy was staring at the group in the living room bug-eyed with his one good eye. Captain Dobey’s mouth was still agape and he was close to hyperventilating. Hutch was turning a funny shade of green and Starsky was glancing worriedly at his partner.

Mrs. Starsky reached over and smacked Captain Dobey swiftly on the back, "Breathe."

He gasped out a deep breath. "So you mean to say you two are -- ahhh -- are *you know* and the baby is yours. I am-- I am--"

"Going to accept this or leave now," supplied Mrs. Starsky.

Dobey’s mouth snapped shut and he looked suspiciously at Mrs. Starsky and then at his two detectives. "Is she always like this?"

"I’m afraid so, Captain," snorted Starsky.

"I want to hear your version of the events, Starsky -- Hutchison. I won’t judge anything until I hear this from your own mouths and I want the condensed version--" he frowned at Mrs. Starsky, "--but not as condensed as hers."

Hutch moved to perch on the armrest beside his partner and would-be-daughter. The two men exchanged an intense look and Hutch ran his hand gently over the baby’s downy head. They presented the picture of a united front.

Hutch took a deep breath and began, "Ten months ago I made a mistake and slept with a woman who turned out to be a psycho. She was delusional and ended up stalking me. After she was put in the mental hospital, she gave birth to this baby. The timing is right and apparently she identified me as the father in her suicide note. A relative abandoned the baby here on Saturday morning and Ma was here by Sunday. If Fiona is mine, I plan to keep her. I’m not sure what else to say."

Dobey scowled, "I think you’re leaving something pretty significant out."

Hutch just raised his eyebrow. "I thought it was obvious, but Starsky and I have loved each for a long time."

"How long?" came the curt reply from their Captain.

"I don’t think that’s any of our business," interjected Huggy.

"Oh, but it is *Hawthorne*. I need to know how long my men have been lying to me."

Starsky added, "We haven’t been lying to you Captain, you just never asked. If you had paid attention you would have noticed that we haven’t been seeing anyone since Hutch was stabbed by Diana Harmon." At Dobey’s questioning look, he continued, "That’s the name of the baby’s mother and Hutch’s attacker. He failed to mention *why* she was put in the mental hospital. When she stabbed Hutch, it was the last straw for me. I decided Hutch had made too many bad decisions involving women. When one finally tried to kill him, I put my foot down and it’s been just us ever since."

"It doesn’t affect our work," concluded Hutch.

During the slight lull in conversion Mrs. Starsky moved to stand in front of Huggy and tugged at the frozen bag of mystery food that still covered his swelling eye. Huggy scowled at her and attempted to swat her hands away. "Ahhh, can’t you keep her away from me?" he moaned. "She’s already done enough damage to my noodle today."

"Quite fiddling, Hawthorne." Mrs. Starsky had managed to wrestle the frozen goods away from the seated man and was probing around his eye with her fingers. "You’ll live. But, what do you make of this matter?"

"I think they make a cute couple and I only hope they don’t corrupt that kid too much. Uncle Huggy will just make sure she gets a proper role model, especially with you around."

"You’re a good boy after all," she pronounced with a smile as if she didn’t hear his last comment. With a pat on his cheek that was perhaps a little too hard, she pressed the bag back and turned her attention back to the other men in the room. "Well it seems there is no problem with your friend here, now I want to know what this boss of yours has to say."

"It’s simple, Mrs. Starsky. After listening to everything and having time to cover I’ve decided as their superior I really don’t care what they do in their time off as long as it doesn’t affect their job. As a friend, I can say they truly deserve each other. I also can offer my support as far as this baby is concerned as their boss and as a father myself," he turned to address his detectives, "Whatever help you two need, I will provide whatever is in my power to give. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," echoed Starsky and Hutch.

"Well now that that mess is all cleared up, I think I will start lunch. Will you be able to stay, Captain Dobey?" questioned Mrs. Starsky as she paced around the cramped kitchen.

"Well, I really shouldn’t," he looked at the door and patted his stomach, "I should be getting back to the precinct."

"Nonsense, you stay and I’ll feed you. I did some shopping and finally got some decent food in this house. Would you believe there was pretty much rabbit food in that fridge when I got here," she glared at Hutch, "But how does roast beef sandwiches on freshly baked bread, with all the fixings sound?"

"It sounds delightful, I’ll just phone dispatch to let them know I’m on lunch."

Neither Starsky nor Hutch were surprised to hear their Captain unable to turn down food. They still shared the same chair as they usually did, only now it was crowded with another smaller being and they didn’t mind. They were also too busy fawning over Fiona who was making little gurgling noises to see Huggy make an attempt at escape.

"Where do you think you are going, Hawthorne?" demanded Mrs. Starsky as she shook at carrot at him for emphasis.

"Back to my bar to soak my head in an ice bucket," he muttered.

"Sit! I’m making lunch."

"I didn’t think I was invited," his eyes followed the carrot warily. He wasn’t having very good luck with food products today.

"You weren’t invited because I had no intention of letting you out of my sight until the swelling goes down. You sit right were you are and stay out of my kitchen," admonished Mrs. Starsky. She then turned to mutter at Hutch, "Kenny, your kitchen is too small. You do realize that you can’t have a full house life in this shoebox. My son and that baby deserve better."

"There’s nothing wrong with my apartment," griped Hutch.

Starsky had Fiona on his shoulder and was patting her back. "She does have a point, babe. This apartment is only one a bedroom and my place is no bigger, even if it is better."

"Better?" snorted the blonde.

"Well, my place ain’t an overgrown jungle," was the immediate reply.

"Would you two put a sock in it," grumbled Huggy, "I have a headache. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I have to agree with your Ma for once. Neither of your places are suitable for a growing kid or the cage you’ll need for her keeper. I know people who can hook you up with a nice house without gouging you on the price."

"You always know people. What kind of people they are is questionable," added Captain Dobey who was now off the phone and eyeing the growing layout with an appreciative glance. "It’s a good thing I’ll be around to make sure it all stays legal. My Edith will be able to set you two up with other parents who will be a better influence than the some of the folks you hang around with."

"So let me get this right?" growled an exasperated Hutch, "In the matter of two days, I have been outed and I get the joy of a new daughter, new house, new friends and new mother-in-law?!"

"Sounds like that’s pretty much it, baby blue," comforted a grinning Starsky.

His grin died when Fiona managed to puke all over his shirt. "Yuck."

"Oh don’t be so squeamish, Davey," admonished his mother, "It’s just a little up chuck. Now you and Kenny go eat before that Captain of yours hoovers it all down."

Between bites of an overloaded roast beef sandwich Dobey managed to say, "After we’re finished, I expect to see you two in my office to work out all of the official details of this case. Knowing you two, you will need all of the help you can get."

<><><><><><>

"Starsky, get your feet off of my desk!" Captain Dobey griped as he hung up the phone.

"Yes, Captain."

The blue addias’ slipped off the desk and thumped onto the floor. That thump jolted Hutch from his daydream and he whacked his head against a filing cabinet. Starsky reached over and ran his hand over the back of the blonde’s head. Hutch scowled and dodged the probing digits.

"You two look like crap." Dobey snorted and shook his head at his detectives.

"Thank you, sir. I noticed that this morning," Hutch complained.

Having checked over his partner to his satisfaction, Starsky turned his attention back to his Captain. "What did the doctor have to say?"

"Doctor – oh what’s his goddamn name," he reached over and flipped open a file, "-oh yes, Dr. Karl Durkheim from the state mental hospital supplied me with all of the grizzly details. Diana Harmon did in fact give birth to a baby girl two weeks and five days ago. Exactly two weeks to the day after the baby was born, Diana’s body was found in a storage closet. The autopsy and death certificate confirm that it was a suicide. Dr. Durkheim is sending us a copy of the suicide note. He also confirmed that the social worker on staff felt sorry for the deceased and instead of following procedure after the mother’s death, handed the baby over to the listed next of kin."

"Is that all? Anymore information on Fiona?" demanded Starsky.

"The doctor said she cried a lot," Dobey chuckled, "Seems her case fell through the cracks. The hospital claims social services were notified, but social services claim they were never contacted. He says without official guidelines the staff left the baby with her mother because she seemed non-violent. There’s no birth certificate, but Hutch was identified as the birth father in her suicide note. Blood test pending of course, Hutch would have first dibs on her. If he doesn’t want her, she goes into foster care and up for adoption eventually."

Hutch looked disturbed and he asked, "What if we forego the blood test and just keep her?"

Before Hutch could respond Dobey interrupted, "I wish you could do that, son. I really do, but there all these technicalities. The baby is in limbo right now and could very easily be made a ward of the state. You have the burden of proof in this case. With pre-existing circumstantial evidence -- mainly your past relationship with the deceased and her claim of your paternity, you have a good ground to claim custody. If the baby’s blood type is consistent with yours, then she officially becomes a Hutchinson."

"She already whines like a Hutchinson, I can tell you." Starsky was beaming.

The chances of keeping the baby all hinged on a blood test and he already knew in his heart what the outcome would be. Starsky failed to notice the haunted look that flashed over Hutch’s face and then just as quickly disappeared.

Dobey managed to catch the blonde’s apprehension. "Before I go any farther I need to know this is what you want, Hutch. Fatherhood is a huge responsibility and you’re in such a dangerous profession with no wife to help. I also know you aren’t on good terms with your family. Can you do this alone?"

Starsky went on the defensive, "He has me and my mother."

Hutch nodded in agreement and added calmly, "Starsky is my family. If this baby is mine, then I have no intention of letting her go."

Starsky turned and looked at his partner with adoration shining in his eyes and flashed Hutch a brilliant smile. Hutch returned the toothy grin with an indulgent smile and a pat on Starsky’s thigh.

"If that all, Captain, we have to get to the lab to see a vampire about some tests," Starsky launched out of the chair and swaggered towards the door. He stopped and waited for Hutch who trailed behind him.

"Are we approved for time off?" Hutch asked over his shoulder.

"Yes, now get out here, Daddy Hutch and Uncle Starsky. I have work to do," yelled their Captain with a dismissive wave.

<><><><><><>

Starsky calmed the wailing baby down and handed her over only slightly whimpering to Hutch so he could supervise the proceedings. Fiona wailed long and hard when the lab worker pricked her heel to draw blood. Deep down the crying of little Fiona wretched something in both men. Poor Hutch flinched and closed his eyes when the needle punctured the skin. Starsky on the other hand watched the lab worker like a hawk with a very intent and protective blue gaze.

When it was finally over Hutch stared intently at the small band-aid on the bottom of Fiona’s foot. His gaze travelled her tiny frame, ending on her light downy head resting comfortably in the junction of his arm. She was only making little huffing sounds now and one Starsky had assured himself she was alive, he turned his attention to the processing of the blood. He was too busy looking over the lab worker’s shoulder to notice the intense look on his partner’s face.

"So how long is it gonna take, Debra?" Starsky questioned the pretty lab worker.

Normally she would be flattered by such a man’s attention, but she could clearly see he was not interested in her, but rather her work.

"Not very long," she muttered impatiently and looked into the microscope. "In fact, I’m done."

"That was quick," smiled Starsky with approval. "So what’s the verdict?"

Debra looked back at Hutch holding the baby girl. "This little sweetheart’s blood type is O+."

"So what’s that mean?" Starsky urged. "Is Hutch the father?"

She stuck her hands into her lab coat and looked between the two men. Two sets of blue eyes gazed back at her with nervous excitement, one more anxious than the other.

"The mother’s criminal file records her blood type as O+ and Ken’s is B-. Now that we know the baby’s blood type is also O+ that means that Ken is not excluded from consideration as the possible paternal parent."

Starsky looked at Debra like she was speaking Lithuanian.

"It means I *could* be the father," supplied Hutch.

Starsky smile melted into a scowl. "Could?"

Debra sighed and put on her most professional face. "You have to remember that blood types can only be used to determine the possibility of paternity. We can’t establish 100% certainty, only the likelihood. I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do."

"Of course we’re grateful for your help and on such short notice, Miss Kaki." Hutch smiled reassuringly. "Thank-you."

Hutch stood up with a still fussy baby in his arms and nodded politely to Debra. He was glad she was a personal friend of Captain Dobey’s and would keep the matter quiet. They walked out of the laboratory and Hutch stopped. He was starting to get a massive headache.

"Starsk, can you take the baby, please?"

Starsky shrugged his shoulders and took the baby without further thought. He could see the lines around Hutch’s eyes were prominent which meant he must be thinking too hard again.

"Do you think that your mother would watch Fiona for the evening?"

"Of course she will, babe. Isn’t it what she’s been doing from the start?"

Starsky’s wry comment was met with a somewhat weak smile.

"Actually that’s a good idea, Blondie. We could do with some time alone together, huh? How about my place for tonight?"

"That sounds good. We have a lot to talk about."

Starsky watched Hutch move down the hallway towards the parking lot doors. His eyes automatically slipped to enjoy his favourite denim encased feature.

Starsky looked down at Fiona and grinned. "Looks like I’m going to have to do something to make your Daddy relax, Sweetpea."

<><><><><><>

They tried to drop Fiona off at Hutch’s place and be out of there quickly, but after Starsky delivered the good news, they still weren’t able to escape after an hour and twelve minutes exactly. Starsky had counted.

At least they were well fed after Ma forced supper on them, muttering something about boys overexerting themselves. Hutch had only picked at the salad Ma had especially made for him, so he knew the blonde had something serious on his mind. And God knows he wouldn’t be able to get laid until they talked about it.

As he pulled up in front of his place, he smirked at the likelihood they would have a good argument. Make up sex was always the best and they both needed to blow off a little steam. They got out of the Torino in silence and climbed the all too familiar stairs.

The door closed and Starsky looked expectantly at his partner. Uh oh. Hutch was quiet. That certainly wasn’t good. When Hutch was mad he stewed and then exploded with pent up passion. When something was seriously wrong he was quiet.

Shit.

"What was that, Starsk?"

Oh, he’d said that out loud.

"Nothing, babe. I just want you to tell me what’s on your mind."

"It’s nothing really." Hutch didn’t sound very convincing.

"Sure, babe."

Starsky agreed and moved slowly towards Hutch who was pacing across the living room. He kept talking to pacify Hutch and it was the tone of his voice that was more soothing than anything he was really saying. He moved directly in Hutch’s path and stopped him mid-stride wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

"It’s just nothing that your life has changed so much in the past few days. I know you’re strong Hutch, but you don’t have to handle this alone. You have me. You’ll always have me. And now you have Fiona --"

"That’s just it, Starsk," Hutch’s voice cracked, "Maybe I don’t have Fiona."

Starsky pulled Hutch even closer and locked his arms into place. Hutch wasn’t getting away until he’d gotten over this silly nonsense.

"Everyone needs someone, Hutch. She has no one if she doesn’t have us," was his soft reply, "I *know* she’s yours."

"How?" Hutch demanded in a broken voice.

"I just feel it, baby blue."

That seemed to break Hutch and he buried his face into Starsky’s neck.

"What can I offer her?" he whispered against the salty skin.

"Yourself."

"Maybe that’s not good enough."

"Hutch, that’s enough. You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. Why do you deny this? You’ve always been good with kids. Don’t you want to be a Daddy?"

Hutch tried to break Starsky’s strong grip, but instead Starsky just guided them to the chesterfield. With a heavy thump, they landed side by side, still in an embrace.

"Do you know this isn’t the first time I was a father?" His words were barely audible.

"What did you say?"

"This isn’t the first time," Hutch said a little louder, "That’s why this is so hard. Some things are too painful to talk about, that’s why I never told you before. I just tried to forget."

"Go on, you can tell me anything," the brunette prompted.

Hutch was shaking and Starsky hadn’t seen him this upset since in years.

"When Van and I were first going out, I really wasn’t all that serious. I mean she was basically a summer fling and the sex was good, but I just never though about marrying her."

"But you did." Starsky managed to finish his partner’s thought.

"Yeah, I did," he said softly. "I got her pregnant. She said she was on the pill and I believed her, but she lied to trap me into marrying her."

"What happened?"

Hutch closed his eyes and ran his free hand through his hair. "I married her because I thought it was my duty. I accepted my responsibility and was ready to make the best of a bad situation. She thought she was marrying into old money and was rather pissed off when she found out I was disinherited after I moved out here. I didn’t care, Starsk. I was so excited about being a Dad. I just wanted to make an honest start with my new family away from my fucked up parents. I paid the ultimate price. She aborted the baby to spite me."

"Oh, Hutch," Starsky comforted softly and drew his partner tighter into the embrace.

"But that’s not it," Hutch confessed. "I learned after that. I never wanted to be hurt that way again. Always wore a condom, no matter what the girl said."

"Hutch?" Starsky’s voice was shaking with suspicion.

"I even wore one the night I was with Diana."

"Oh God."

Realization hit Starsky like a brick wall. Hutch’s apprehension, uncertainty and self-doubt. It all made sense now.

"Starsk?" Hutch said uncertainly.

"You kept it from me all this time," Starsky countered in a flat voice. "You let me care about her and it was a lie."

"That’s just it," Hutch confessed. "I don’t know if it’s a lie. I wanted so desperately to believe Fiona was my daughter, especially after I saw the way you took to her. I wanted to tell you the first morning, but I couldn’t make myself do it. She still could be, ya know. There was always this little voice in the back of my mind nagging at me that mistakes happen, that nothing is one hundred percent positive."

"So you’re saying what?"

"I’m saying that I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I *had* to tell you. But I still want to believe that there’s a small chance she belongs to me."

"And you don’t think that I want that, too?" Starsky demanded. "Hell, when I look into that little face, I see your eyes staring back at me, Hutch. I swear, I do."

"I know you’ve always believed that since day one and I didn’t think it was fair to live a lie. Even if she is my kid, Starsk, I don’t know that I can offer her what she needs. You would be a far better father than I ever could. Looking at you and Fiona makes me think of what I’m taking away from you by loving you."

"What are you talkin’ about now?" Starsky sighed. This entire conversation was taking a lot out of him.

"I’m talking about the fact that you gave up on the family you always wanted by choosing to be with me."

"You *are* my family, Hutch. We’ve been over this, thousands of time before. I need you. You’re worth more to me than any phantom wife and kids ya cooked up for me."

"But what are we going to do about, Fiona?" Hutch asked. Starsky was always good at fixing things. He wanted desperately for Starsky to fix this.

"I’m not sure what we can do. If you’re not the father, then who would we hand the baby over to? Any other man who slept with Diana was most likely also stalked and may not want anything to do with Fiona. Hell, we might not even be able to find any other men who slept with her, if she did sleep with anyone else. What if it was a one night stand? Only Diana knows who the father is and she’ll take that to the grave with her."

"But that doesn’t solve our problem, does it?"

"No it doesn’t. I gotta ask ya one thing. Would you really give Fiona to strangers to raise?"

Hutch closed his eyes and tried to think about the benefits of someone else raising her. Someone else could offer her stability and normal life. But then he wouldn’t get to see her grow up or hear her call him Daddy. His mind may tell him he may not be the biological father, but his heart was telling him he wanted to be her Daddy.

"No," he admitted quietly. "I don’t think I could do that."

"Me neither," Starsky assured him. "She’s ours now, Hutch. Part of our family. She has no one else and who cares who fucked her mother. She’s ours and that’s all that matters. We deserve a family and this is the only chance we’re going to get."

"You’re right, Starsk," Hutch agreed, pulling his lover to him and burying his face in dark curls. It may not be right what they had both decide just now, but it was what they both wanted.

<><><><><><>

Judith stopped in front of the building marked Venice Place. This was the correct address all right. Her investigations had led her here and she had no intention of turning back now.

"What a dump," Judith murmured under her breath.

Resigned to her fate, she opened the front door and climbed the stairs, stopping only when she reached the apartment that matched the addressed scribbled on the crumbled piece of paper in her hand. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no answer. This time, she thumped her fist against the wood panelling in hard, steady rhythm.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming," she heard a muffled male voice coming from the other side of the door. The door opened just enough for a pair of sleepy eyes to peer out. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Judith looked down at her watch. "It’s precisely 9:04 a.m.," she asked in a curt, professional voice.

"And you just about woke my whole household," Starsky complained, opening the door more.

He stood there in his blue boxers, rubbing his eyes and his hair was all askew. Hutch would have called him cute, but Judith just thought he looked like a slob. She really didn’t have any taste.

"Are you Mr. Hutchinson?"

"Nah, but you can deal with me for now," he said, words half distorted by a yawn. "What did ya want?"

"I really prefer to deal with Mr. Kenneth Hutchinson."

"Well," Starsky flung open the door a bit more and pointed to a lump of blankets on the floor topped with a mop of blonde hair. "That’s the rather unconscious Mr. Kenneth Hutchinson."

"Wake him up then," Judith huffed.

"Na huh. I just got him to sleep a few hours ago and I’ve got no intention of waking him up."

"I could care less if he was out drinking and debauching last night. This is *important*."

"Oh yeah, he was up all night with this little blonde number," Starsky laughed. Nothing they had tried had calmed Fiona. Starsky’s mother called it colic, but Hutch insisted the baby was possessed. After hours of taking turns walking her up and down the floor, everyone including the baby had crashed.

"I don’t want to hear about his disgusting exploits," Judith said in most cold and yet civil voice, "Let me repeat myself slowly in case you can’t understand me. I’m here to see Mr. Kenneth Hutchison on urgent and private business."

"Well you sure as hell ain’t gonna get any privacy in this place," Starsky countered, "Besides Hutch and I share everything. You deal with him, you deal with me. Got it?"

Judith wanted smack that self-assured smile of the bastard’s face. Here he was standing in front of her nearly naked and flaunting his… maleness and intimacy with his partner. "I don’t care how many women you ‘share’," Judith said, he voice tinged with disgust, "I am here to see Mr. Hutchinson about his child."

Air escaped from Starsky’s lung and he looked at the woman standing in their doorway with suspension, "Who are you?"

"My name is Judith Williams. I’m a social worker."

"Yeah, and…"

"And I’m here to inquire about Baby Harmon."

"She’s got a name, ya know," Starsky grumbled, but opening the door more.

"Oh really," Judith replied, "Last time I checked the file, no first name had been filed on the birth certificate. As far as the state is concerned, she’s simply known by her mother’s last name. The poor woman never even bothered to name the child before she killed herself."

"Her name’s Fiona Hutchinson," Starsky said. "And you might as well come in before the neighbours get to talkin’."

Judith strolled into the apartment that looked like a disaster area. The lights were off, but enough light streamed in through the windows to illuminate a flurry of plush toys, pacifiers, drying clothe diapers and empty bottles. The coffee table was pushed into the corner and right in front of the couch, under a pile of blankets and pillows was a halo of blonde hair. Starsky waded into the mound and stood straddling over the lump in the middle of the mass.

He reached out and gently shook the lump, whispering, "Hutch…. get up… please." The lump in question moved and grunted, but didn’t talk. Starsky tried again. "Please, Hutch. I really need ya right now."

"Not now, Starsk," a raspy voice finally responded. "I have a headache."

"Hutch, there’s some social worker here about the baby."

Blankets went every which way and next thing Judith knew she was staring at a blonde man, who just so happened to have his face level with Starsky’s groin now. Starsky reached out and patted the man’s cheek, said "Good mornin’" and stepped to the side.

"Are you Mr. Kenneth Hutchison?" Judith asked, looking down at the man with distain.

"Yes, I am," he returned, somehow managing a dignified tone, even though he just woken up from a few hours of sleep on the floor.

"I’ve tracked you down Mr. Hutchinson to check on Diana Harmon’s baby."

"She’s sleeping right now," Hutch said. "Finally. She’s got colic, so whatever you want, please make it quick and quiet."

"Did you know she died because her pregnancy?" Judith asked. There was no point in beating around the bush.

"What are ya talkin’ about?" Starsky put it. "She killed herself."

"She might have taken her own life…" Judith shook her head, her voice rising. "…but she could have controlled her manic depression with medication. Medication she refused to take because she feared it might harm the child. Despite her delusion, she loved that baby. I got quite close to her during her stay at the hospital. She told me all about what you did to her… and you’re lucky she just tried to stab you, Mr. Hutchinson. I know more than one woman who would have castrated you for abandoning their pregnant fiancée for another man!"

"Shut up, woman!" Starsky hissed. "You’re going to wake up my ma and the baby. And you don’t want to piss off my mother. You’ve got no right to say all those things about Hutch. There’re all lies."

"I went out with her once. One date. One night together and she started stalking me," Hutch said quietly. "She tried to stab me when I wouldn’t play in her little fantasy world."

"I promised I would look out for her baby," Judith hissed. "I was the one who made sure the baby wasn’t taken away from her after it was born. I tried to get Diana to take her medication… but she wouldn’t because she wanted to nurse the baby. They found a stash of medication after they found the body. All those months with out medication and she was all alone… it was too much for her. The only promise I didn’t fulfill to her was that you got the child. Now I’m glad I didn’t."

"You were the one who gave Fiona to Vic Harmon?" Starsky asked in disbelief.

"He was the only living relative on Diana’s record. The child deserves to be raised by family…" Diana spat. "Not by some homosexual father who had to be tricked into getting his fiancée pregnant…"

"What did you just say?!" Hutch cut her rant off.

"I said… she had to trick you into letting her have your child. She said it was the only thing she thought would tie you to her. Foolish, I admit, but she wasn’t a sane woman…"

"Tell me what you mean by ‘tricking me’?" Hutch demanded.

Judith glared at Hutch, but rifled through her briefcase and pulled out a tattered piece of paper. "It says it all here in her suicide note…"

Hutch moved like lightening and grabbed the note from her hand. They still hadn’t been a sent a copy of this from the hospital and he’d never heard Diana’s last words.

"Give me that back!" Judith said in shock.

Starsky moved in between her and Hutch. "Let him read it," he said in a dangerous tone.

Hutch’s eyes flashed over the words and he held his voice as he heard Diana’s in his head…

I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you. I tried so hard to be what you wanted, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. Not even the baby is enough. She’s part of you, but every time I look at her, I can only think about how much I failed. Don’t hate her because of me. I had to do it… I wanted to make us a family. That night, I poked a hole in the condom. Not nice, but effective. It only takes once. You’re her daddy. There was never anyone else. Every time you look at her, you’ll think of me. We’re forever bound together by her. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.

When Hutch didn’t say anything, but just stood there staring at letter, Starksy gently put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. "What does it say?"

"I’m her daddy," Hutch whispered.

Starsky scanned the letter quickly. "You always were, Baby Blue, you always were…"

"I hate to disturb your bonding," Judith interrupted with distain, "But the fact that you’re the biological father doesn’t make you a fit parent. When I went to visit the baby at Mr. Harmon’s place and found out he’d given her to you… I tracked you down and did a little investigation. You’re lifestyle is not appropriate for a child. A cop and a… homosexual. I’m going to contact Child Protective Services and have her removed."

"You will do no such thing," Hutch said in a dead calm voice. "I’m her father. My ‘lifestyle’, as you put it is none of your business. She’ll be loved and be part of a family who wants her. If you so as much make a peep against us, we can make your life a living hell. I’m sure you have secrets you don’t want other people to know. Secrets that could endanger your job. And just think about it… if we lost our jobs and Fiona, we would have all of our time to make you pay for your… lapse in judgement."

"You wouldn’t!" Judith paled and took a step back.

"We would," Starsky said. "Now get outta here."

Judith knew she had secrets that she couldn’t afford to see the light of day. And she had no doubt that these men would hound her if they were crossed. She picked up her briefcase and backed up towards the door. "You’re dooming yourselves and that child to hell," she spat just before she slammed the door. No one child was worth her career and privacy.

"I’m her daddy," Hutch repeated to Starsky with a large grin.

Starsky launched himself onto Hutch and they both landed heavily on their bed on the floor, with Starsky on top. Starsky kissed Hutch messily and happily. "We’re a real family now. No one and nothin’ will get in between that!"

END