This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Twentieth Century Fox Studios or any other holders of Starsky and Hutch copyrights.

This story includes two real life characters, actors Ted Neeley and Carl Anderson. In addition to starring in both screen and stage versions of Jesus Christ Superstar, they also appeared on Starsky and Hutch. Carl appeared in "Class in Crime" and "Strange Justice" and Ted was Lionel Rigger in "The Snitch." Sadly, Carl Anderson passed away on February 23, 2004 after a long battle with leukemia. This story is dedicated to him with much love and affection.


GOD'S GIFT TO THE WORLD

by: Aunt Mary

The opening night performance of "Jesus Christ Superstar" was drawing to a close. Backstage, Carl Anderson watched as his friend and co-star Ted Neeley was helped from the safety harness he'd worn during the crucifixion scene. Ted quickly donned a pure white robe and smiled at Carl. It had been a good show. They could hear the Bay City audience applauding enthusiastically as the cast began their curtain calls. Carl returned his friend's smile and then turned his attention back to the stage to wait for his cue.

For two hours, Carl had mesmerized the audience with his intensely passionate portrayal of Judas Iscariot. Now, as he returned to the stage, he was rewarded with thunderous applause. The energy in the theatre was incredible and he allowed himself a brief moment to bask in its warmth. And then he found himself caught up in the anticipation. It was time for the countdown to Jesus! Smiling at the audience and sending a quick wink backstage to Ted, he wound his arm in a huge circle and held up one finger. Another spin and two fingers had them on the edge of their seats. The final spin and three fingers sent them into a fever pitch. As the orchestra broke into the familiar strains of the title theme, Ted made his entrance onto the stage. The crowd was on its feet, the applause threatening to drown out the orchestra completely.

Ted always found the moment incredibly humbling. He'd told Carl once that he knew the applause wasn't really about him and often found himself slipping back into character just to keep it all in perspective. Hands folded across his heart, Ted took his bow and then extended one hand to the orchestra and the other to the rest of the cast. The cast joined hands and, with Ted and Carl in the middle, took a final bow.

A woman in the first row was trying to reach across the orchestra pit to hand a huge bouquet of roses up to the stage. Carl noticed her and made eye contact with Ted; glad that the two of them had long ago learned to speak without words. Ted made his way to the edge of the stage. He raised his eyebrows and placed his hand upon his chest as if to ask "for me?" The woman smiled shyly and held out the bouquet. "Thank you," he mouthed above the roar of the audience.

Carl watched in amazement as his friend bent down and reached across the orchestra pit to retrieve the roses. He knew it was a moment the woman would never forget. Similar scenes played out night after night, city after city and yet Ted always seemed genuinely surprised when it happened.

"Hell, Anderson," Carl thought to himself, "he is genuinely surprised. You've got more ego in your little finger than he's got in his whole body."

Finally, the curtains closed and an exuberant cast made their way backstage to their dressing rooms. It was a small theatre and the backstage quarters were somewhat cramped. Carl and Ted often shared a dressing room when the circumstances warranted and at the Bay City Playhouse the circumstances warranted.

One of the dancers squeezed past them on her way down the hall. "Security says they're already lining up out back. Shall I tell them you're coming out?"

Carl sighed. He was exhausted but he enjoyed meeting the fans as much as Ted did. "Sure," he smiled, "we'll be there."

"Just give us a few minutes to shower and change," added Ted in his soft Texan drawl.

Carl flung open the dressing room door and went straight for the bottled water that was waiting on the dressing room table. As he twisted off the plastic cap, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror and felt his heart leap into his throat. "Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Ted asked as he closed the door behind him. When Carl didn't answer, he turned to find his friend staring at the dressing room mirror. Someone had written in dripping red letters: THIS JESUS MUST DIE.

Ted sighed. It wasn't the first time someone had threatened him but lately the threats had become more frequent and more menacing. "It's okay, Carl. It's just a prank."

But Carl knew better. He reached out and touched the still wet letters with his fingers. He brought his hand to his nose and sniffed; his eyes closing as he recognized the scent. "It's no prank, Teddy. It's blood. This time we're calling the cops." And this time Ted didn't protest.

Detective Ken Hutchinson had his blonde head buried in a case file. He wasn't in a good mood. It was one week before Christmas and the commercialization of the season was beginning to grate on his nerves. Even in the squad room, talk had turned to gift buying, party going and credit card debt. Didn't anyone work anymore? Adding to his irritation was the fact that his partner Dave Starsky was late -- late even for Starsky. Captain Dobey had already been out twice to inform Hutch that he needed to see them both when Starsky arrived. Dobey hadn't seemed in a particularly good mood either. Something told Hutch it was going to be a long night.

Hutch shifted positions in his chair and immediately regretted doing so as the Christmas tree sitting on the end of Starsky's desk began singing and dancing to "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer." The damn thing was motion activated and every time Hutch moved it started up again. Hutch had just picked it up with the intent of tossing it in the nearest trashcan when his partner came through the door.

"Don't you touch my tree, Hutch," the dark haired man cautioned. Starsky loved Christmas and he loved the tree or, rather, he loved the fact that the tree irritated Hutch so much.

"You know," Hutch said, setting the offensive tree back on the desk, "I don't know which is more irritating -- that tree or you being late all the..."

Hutch turned to look at his partner and was momentarily speechless. Starsky was festooned in reindeer antlers, jingle bell suspenders, and a red plastic nose. He flashed Hutch his most charming grin.

"You're late -- again," Hutch said, a bit more angrily than he intended. "Dobey wants to see us -- now." He picked up the file from his desk and began heading toward the Captain's office.

"You're trying awfully hard to hold on to that mad, pal," Starsky observed.

Hutch turned around to say something and found himself eye to eye with his partner. The red nose lit up! In spite of himself, Hutch dissolved into laughter.

"Do you know how stupid you look?" Hutch asked.

"Made you smile," Starsky said as he pulled off the antlers and nose and set them on the desk. "You've been in a blue Christmas funk all week."

"Are we going to have this conversation every Christmas?" Hutch asked.

"Just until you get over your bug."

"My bug?"

"Ya, your bah-humbug."

The door to Dobey's office swung open and the Captain stuck his head into the squad room. "Starsky -- Hutchinson -- in my office -- NOW!"

The two detectives followed their captain back into his office. Dobey gave Starsky a weird look; he jingled when he walked! Dobey shook his head and decided not to comment. He sat down behind his desk and motioned for his men to be seated.

"What's up, Cap'n?" Starsky asked, propping his feet up on Dobey's desk.

"One of the actors down at the Playhouse received a death threat. Apparently it's not the first time. Whoever did it left a message in blood on the dressing room mirror."

"Blood?" Hutch asked, leaning forward. "Human blood?"

"Animal most likely," Dobey said; scanning the few notes he'd made over the phone when he'd first received the call. "The crime lab's on the scene now but I need you two to get down there and find out who's behind this."

"You got it, Cap," Starsky said, rising to his feet with a jingle. Dobey shot a questioning look at Hutch who only shrugged his shoulders and stood to follow his partner out of the room.

"Oh," continued Dobey, "one other thing." The officers waited. "I don't want you to let the intended victim out of your sight. Someone needs to be with him at all times. Is that understood?"

"Sure," Hutch replied. "We'll have our eyes on him all the time -- just like Santa Claus."

"Well see that you do. I don't want anyone saying that Jesus got killed on my watch."

The detectives exchanged confused looks. Starsky started to ask but Dobey cut him off. "They expected you an hour ago."

"Then we're already there," Hutch said; snapping Starsky's suspenders.

Starsky grinned, "With bells on."

Patrolman Pete Langford stuck his head in the dressing room door. "We're about done out here, Hutch. Do you need anything else?"

Hutch was sitting on top of a trunk in the crowded room. Starsky had somehow managed to grab the only chair.

"No thanks, Pete, we're fine. How are things outside?"

"The crowd's dwindling. Joe will stay out there until they're gone and then we'll make sure Ted gets back inside before we leave."

"Okay, thanks," Hutch said as Pete headed down the hall. He turned his attention back to Carl.

Carl had changed into street clothes and was leaning back on the edge of the dressing table; the threatening message now wiped clean from the mirror. "I tried to get him to skip the autographs just for tonight but he wouldn't hear of it, didn't want to disappoint the fans. Do you think he's safe out there?"

Starsky rocked backwards; balancing on the back two legs of his chair. He'd been studying Carl since they'd arrived. The black man had strong features and the darkest, most penetrating eyes Starsky had ever seen. It was obvious that he cared about his co-star and was concerned for his safety. "He'll be fine. Do you wanna tell us what's been happening?"

Carl related the events of the past few weeks to the detectives: the phone calls with no one on the other end, the threatening letters made with words cut from magazines, the single black rose with a business card from a local mortuary that was left in Ted's hotel room, and the thirty silver dollars Carl had found in his.

"Thirty dollars?" Starsky asked.

Hutch answered his friend's question. "Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, Starsk."

The threats had started three cities back on the tour and, up until now, Carl and Ted had tended to view them as isolated instances by separate antagonists.

"The fans are great," Carl said, "but we also run into a few people who think the show is blasphemous and either want to save us from hell or send us there. And there's always the handful of people who think Ted's really..."

"Jesus Christ!" Starsky exclaimed as Ted entered the room. Carl tried to hide a grin as Hutch elbowed his partner and sent Starsky and the chair crashing to the ground. Ignoring his partner who was now spread eagle on the floor, Hutch stood up and extended his hand to the actor. Even in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, Ted bore a striking resemblance to the character he portrayed.

"Mr. Neeley, I'm Sergeant Ken Hutchinson."

Ted took the extended hand and shook it. Hutch was amazed at the warmth of his grip. "Sergeant Hutchinson, please, it's Ted."

"Hutch. And this..." Hutch turned to introduce his partner and realized that Starsky was still down on the floor. He reached a hand down. Starsky took it somewhat reluctantly. "...is my partner."

Ted reached for Starsky's other hand and together he and Hutch pulled the embarrassed man to his feet. Starsky brushed himself off and tried to regain what little dignity he had left. He extended a hand to Ted and blushed sheepishly, "Dave Starsky. No offense meant."

Ted took Starsky's hand in his and smiled, "None taken."

Ted looked at Hutch expectantly. It took Hutch a moment to notice him and another moment to realize that he was patiently waiting for him to do something. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and turned to look at Starsky who was giving him the same expectant look. In desperation, he turned to Carl who smiled and pointed toward Hutch's feet. Finally, the light bulb went on.

"Oh!" Hutch blushed slightly as he picked up the chair and set it down by Starsky. "Sorry, Starsk, no offense."

Starsky grinned, "None taken, Blondie."

Mike Pierce, the Bay City Police Department's finest profiler, was on his way up the stairs to the squad room. He was two weeks shy of a well planned for early retirement and a much-anticipated trip to Europe with his wife Marie. This morning, however, his thoughts were a little closer to home.

He opened the squad room door. "Morning, Hutch."

"Mike, good morning," the detective said; rising to greet him. As the two men shook hands, Starsky's Christmas tree began to sing. Flustered, Hutch grabbed it and quickly stuffed it into the top drawer of the file cabinet. He leaned back against the cabinet and gave Mike a disarming smile. The muffled sounds of "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" could still be heard. Hutch kicked the cabinet with the side of his foot and the music finally stopped.

"Coffee?" Hutch asked.

Mike grinned. "Coffee would be fine."

Hutch picked up his coffee mug from the desk. It began playing "Hava Nagilia."

Mike laughed out loud. "Starsky?"

"How'd you guess?" Hutch asked, setting the mug back on the desk.

"He fits the profile."

"Oh," Hutch asked, looking cautiously in the styrofoam cups before pouring coffee for Mike and himself. "You have a profile for a Jewish Christmas elf?"

Their eyes met. They both grinned and said in unison, "Starsky."

Hutch returned to the desk and both men sat down to discuss the case.

"So who are we looking for, Mike? One guy or a dozen?"

"One guy."

"You're sure?"

"I'd bet my retirement on it. This is a sick guy, Hutch, but he knows his stuff. And he's being very careful -- no fingerprints, no break-ins, no witnesses."

"What about the phone calls -- any of them traceable?" Hutch asked.

"They were all made from pay phones close to the hotels. Hutch, this is somebody who's close. He knows where they are and when they're coming and going."

"You think it's someone in the company?"

"Not necessarily but we're running the cast and crew through our computers as well as the hotel and theatre employees from the last few stops on the tour. I should have something more for you later today."

"He never addressed Ted by name in any of the threats," Hutch noted. "Does he think that Ted's..."

"Jesus? No, I don't think so. In fact, I think the opposite might be true."

"The opposite?" Hutch asked.

Mike finished his coffee and tossed the cup across the room into the trashcan. "He knows Ted isn't Jesus. In fact, he thinks Ted's totally unworthy of playing the part. So unworthy that he won't even acknowledge him by name."

"Mike, I gotta tell you. I've met this man. I don't know what anyone could have against him."

"Well, you find out the what and then you'll know the who. This guy's dangerous, Hutch. He doesn't just want Ted dead. If he did, he'd have made an attempt by now. He wants him to pay for what he's done. He wants him to suffer."

Hutch felt a nagging sense of fear grip at his gut. He wished he hadn't left Starsky alone at the hotel. He looked Mike straight in the eye, "Mike, who could hate him that much?"

Mike stood up and went to the file cabinet. He pulled out Starsky's tree. It immediately began, singing and dancing. He placed it on the desk by Hutch. "They say we can only truly hate the things we used to truly love."

Hutch stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel hallway. Everything was quiet. Mike's words had been weighing heavy on his heart. He had loved Christmas once -- truly loved it: those wonderful holidays when he was young and his grandfather was still alive. He felt a lump rising in his throat. "Okay, Hutchinson," he thought to himself, "get your mind back on the case."

He was about to knock on Ted's door when he heard Carl call his name.

"Hutch, can you stop in here first?"

Carl was in the room next to Ted's and had come to the door when he heard the elevator open.

"Carl, sure. Is everything okay?" Hutch asked as he entered the hotel room.

"Everything's fine with me," Carl said as he shut the door behind Hutch. "I even managed to get a few hours sleep. I don't think the same thing can be said for our friends in the next room."

Carl's room had an adjoining door that opened into Ted's. He and Starsky had agreed it would be a good idea to leave the door ajar for the night. Carl wanted to be close in case anything happened and Starsky wanted to be sure that Carl was safe.

Curiosity aroused; Hutch walked to the door and glanced into the other room.

There was a small table by the glass door leading to the balcony. Starsky was sitting in one of the chairs; his feet propped up on the bed. Ted had pulled the other chair around so that he was sitting at Starsky's side. Hutch couldn't hear what they were saying but it was obvious they were both absorbed by the conversation.

Starsky looked up in surprise when Hutch and Carl entered the room.

"Hutch, what are you doin' back so soon?"

The sight of his partner broke Hutch's heart. Starsky's eyes were red and swollen. It was obvious he'd been crying: something Starsky didn't do easily. A box of Kleenex was wedged in the chair beside him and several crumpled tissues lay in his lap. Hutch couldn't hide the concern in his voice.

"It's not so soon, Starsk. I've been gone for five hours. We're all having breakfast at Huggy's, remember?"

Starsky stared at him blankly. His body was in the room but his mind was a million miles away. Carl laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder, "Why don't we give you a few minutes alone? Ted, you can clean up in my room."

Ted stood up slowly and looked at Starsky. "Will you be alright?" he asked gently.

The sound of Ted's voice seemed to pull Starsky back into the room. "Ya. Ya, I'll be fine," he said, getting to his feet.

Ted put his hand on Starsky's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Hutch watched in surprise as his friend reached out and hugged the actor. "Thank you," Starsky said, his voice still heavy with emotion. Ted returned the embrace and didn't let go until Starsky did.

Ted gave the detective an encouraging smile and then walked over to Carl. He laid his hand on Carl's heart in greeting and Carl placed his own over Ted's. It was an unspoken gesture they had created for the play to show their characters' bond to one another. Somehow the gesture had spilled over into real life.

"We'll be in the other room, Hutch," Carl said.

Hearing his name, Hutch turned to look at Carl. "Huh? Oh. Ya. That's fine. Just leave the door ajar. We'll be right here if you need us."

Carl followed Ted out of the room. Hutch turned back to find a box of Kleenex sitting in the chair were Starsky had been. The glass door to the room's small balcony stood open. Hutch stepped outside into the cool morning air.

Starsky was staring out at the city. Hutch came up behind him and started to put his hands on his partner's shoulders but then thought better of it. He leaned his back against the balcony railing, next to Starsky but not looking at him. And then he waited.

Eventually, Starsky had composed himself enough to speak. "Talk about embarassin'."

Hutch felt the talons of fear gripping his stomach once again. He didn't know what had transpired between the two men but it was obvious that Starsky was an emotional wreck. He reached out and laid his hand on Starsky's forearm. "I'm here for you, buddy. Whatever it is, I'm here."

He felt Starsky tremble and then suddenly he was in Hutch's arms; hot, wet tears spilling onto his partner's chest. Hutch pulled him close; almost overwhelmed by the grief he felt emanating from his friend. He hadn't seen Starsky in this much pain since -- well, since Terry's death.

George Prudholm, an old nemesis seeking revenge on Starsky, had fatally shot his fiance earlier that year. They had spent weeks and months working through the grieving process together. Then one day Starsky simply got on with his life. "Because," he told Hutch, "it's what Terry would want."

Hutch knew these tears all too well and was all too familiar with this grief. "Oh, babe," Hutch comforted. "I'm so sorry."

He felt Starsky's embrace tighten; hanging on as if his life depended on it. Hutch didn't know how long they stood like that but eventually Starsky's tears lessened.

"This is about Terry, isn't it?" Hutch asked gently.

Starsky pulled away, wiping his tears with his hand. "Always could read me like a book."

Hutch pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his partner's eyes. "A slightly soggy book," he gently teased. "Blow."

Starsky blew into the handkerchief that Hutch had pinched to his nose.

"Don't say I never gave you anything," Hutch said, handing him the handkerchief. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Starsky sighed and blew his nose again. "Last night, after you left, Ted called his wife to say good night. It wasn't like I was eavesdroppin'. S'just that we were in the same room. They started talkin' about Christmas and their kids and..." His voice broke.

Hutch laid a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "And everything you lost suddenly came crashing back. Is that it?"

Starsky nodded. "Ya. Poor Ted made the mistake of askin' me what was wrong."

Hutch grinned. "Well I bet he won't make that mistake again."

"Really." Starsky took a deep breath and continued. "It wasn't just the phone call, Hutch, that was just the last straw. It's been real hard with the holidays comin' and all."

The image of Starsky in antlers and a red nose flashed before Hutch's eyes: Starsky trying to make him smile.

"My God, Starsk, why didn't you say something?"

Starsky laid a hand against Hutch's cheek and locked eyes with his partner. "Because I know you loved her, too. And I didn't want you hurtin' any more than you already were."

Hutch reached up and laid his hand on top of Starsky's. Hutch's cheeks flushed with shame as the tears began to form in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Starsk. I should have realized."

"Hey, don't you start, too." Starsky warned. "I don't think this one little hanky can take much more." And then, because it was what Terry would want, Starsky made them get on with their lives. "'Sides," he smiled, "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"

Things were quiet at the Pits which usually catered to a much more nocturnal crowd. Huggy had outdone himself, creating a smorgasbord of eggs and bacon, pancakes, hash browns and -- especially for Starsky -- sticky buns. The hungry men had made a huge dent in the meal. Huggy came by the table and began to refill the juice glasses.

"Great meal, Huggy," Starsky began. "Can you do just one more thing?"

"What it is?" Huggy asked.

Starsky grabbed Huggy's hand. "Marry me and make me breakfast for the rest of my life?"

"You don't let go of me and the rest of your life's gonna be real short. Besides, Starsk, you ain't exactly my type."

"Oh," Hutch grinned. "And what exactly is your type, Huggy?"

"Same as yours: female -- any flavor, any size." He refilled Ted's orange juice. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a definite familiarity about you?"

"Uh, Hug, I wouldn't go there," Starsky said.

"No," Hutch agreed, shaking his head "Definitely not."

"You okay Starsky?" Huggy asked, observing the detective's still bloodshot eyes. "You look like you should invest in some Visine."

Starsky's mouth was full of sticky buns but he managed to mumble, "Too many onions in the omelet."

The other men at the table broke into amiable laughter. Huggy shook his head and turned back to the kitchen muttering something about them all coming out during the full moon.

"So," Hutch said, finishing his second cup of coffee. "What's the agenda for the rest of the day?"

"Well," Carl said, "We've got a tech rehearsal at 11. That'll go until about 1. Then we've got interviews with the local press at 3 and then some down time before tonight's curtain."

"Good. Mike thought he might have something more by this afternoon. Maybe we can stop by the station on the way back to the theatre."

"Can you tell us what you've found?" Ted asked.

Normally, Hutch wouldn't have shared Mike's information with the intended victim. But he hadn't had a chance to bring Starsky up to speed and he was well aware that Ted had given up a good night's sleep to sit with his grieving partner. It didn't seem right not to put all of his cards on the table.

"Okay. If anything rings a bell -- anything at all -- let me know. We're looking at one man with a grudge. He's smart. He's dangerous. And he's nearby."

"And," Starsky interjected, "does he think that Ted's..."

"No," Hutch said. "No." He hesitated for just a minute before telling Ted the rest. "He knows you're not Jesus and he wants to punish you for pretending you are. He doesn't think you're worthy. He doesn't just want you dead. He wants you to suffer. He wants it to hurt."

Carl winced and then exploded. "That's it? That's all you have?"

Hutch sighed. He understood Carl's frustration. His friend was in mortal danger and they were no closer to finding this guy than they'd been the night before.

"Don't shoot the messenger, Carl," Ted said calmly. "It'll be okay."

"How do you know that?" Carl asked. "What makes you so sure?"

Ted took Carl's hand in his right and Starsky's hand in his left. Instinctively, Starsky reached for Hutch. Carl also extended a hand to Hutch, completing the circle.

"Sometimes," Ted said softly to all of them, "you just have to keep the faith."

Back at the theatre, the cast and crew gathered on stage for a brief meeting before the technical run through. Starsky and Hutch took the opportunity to introduce themselves. If the suspect was in the company, the detectives wanted their presence known.

The group seemed tight and fiercely protective of Ted and Carl. They were willing to do anything they could to help.

"What we need is for you to be our eyes and ears," Hutch was saying, "If you see anything out of the ordinary -- no matter how insignificant it seems -- let Starsky or me know immediately."

"That's right," Starsky said, picking up where his partner had left off. "Don't feel silly about bringin' anything to our attention: an open door that's usually shut, a missing tube of make-up, a chair that's out of place. What you see may be the key to the whole puzzle."

Hutch continued, "We'll be talking to each of you on a one to one basis. It's extremely important that you tell us everything you know."

"May I?" Ted asked. Hutch nodded. Ted looked around at the faces of his co-workers. Life on the road wasn't easy and they'd all seen each other at less than their best on more than one occasion.

"What Hutch is asking is that you not keep anything secret out of some misplaced sense of loyalty to me. You don't have to keep up the image. I'm not worthy of this role. I know it. You know it. Whoever is doing this knows it. Somewhere along the line I did something that pushed him over the edge. I may have brushed him off. I may not have listened well enough. Somehow, in his eyes, I failed him and I have to be punished."

Ted spoke softly. Every eye in the room was focused on him. "If you remember anyone I've hurt -- if I've hurt you -- then you need to share that with Starsky and Hutch."

"Thank you," Hutch said. He turned to look at his partner. "Do you have anything else, Starsk?"

"No. I think that's it." The mood in the room was somber. "Have a good rehearsal and break a leg."

"Just not Ted's," Carl deadpanned. Ted looked at his friend and started to laugh. Carl laughed, too. Their laughter was contagious and soon the mood in the theatre had lightened considerably.

Starsky and Hutch set up chairs in the wings so they could keep Ted in their line of vision while they conducted interviews. The tech rehearsal got under way. Having been encouraged by Ted to do so, several people brought stories to the detectives of instances when their co-worker had been "out of character." However none of the lapses seemed likely to have incited death threats.

"Hell," Starsky commented to his partner, "I've treated you worse than that and you still love me."

"You know, Mike said something like that."

Starsky grinned, "Mike loves me, too?"

"No, Starsk, listen," Hutch said, leaning forward. "Mike said that in order to truly hate something, you had to have truly loved it first."

"So what you're sayin' is, it's someone who knows him?"

"Or someone who thought they knew him. Starsk, we're asking the wrong questions. It's like what happened to you last night when Ted called his wife. He didn't do anything wrong. It was just..."

"The last straw," Starsky said, completing Hutch's thought. "Only I didn't blame him for makin' the phone call 'cause he didn't know."

"But whoever's doing this thinks Ted knows him," Hutch said, "and he thinks Ted deliberately hurt him."

"Damn," Starsky sighed, "that must be one helluva wound."

Just then one of the dancers headed over to them. She was a pretty little blond with big blue eyes and both men got to their feet as she approached.

"Dave Starsky," Starsky said, extending his hand and offering her his seat.

Hutch gave him a withering look and then turned to smile at her. "Ken Hutchinson, Miss-?"

"It's Sarah," she said, perching on the end of Starsky's chair. "You said we should tell you everything even if it seemed insignificant."

Hutch sat down in his chair, facing the young woman. "That's right, Sarah. What is it?"

"This is probably nothing. They're getting ready to run through Judas' death. Carl has a noose he puts around his neck and then he's rigged into a safety harness. It makes the hanging look pretty authentic. But they can't find the noose. Carl said he didn't mind waiting until they ran backstage and dug up another but since it's just a tech run through, they're mostly concerned with the harness working right."

Hutch looked up at his partner and knew that Starsky was thinking the same thing. They both made a dash for the stage and arrived just in time to see the harness break and Carl come crashing to the ground. Several people screamed while others just gasped in horror and then pandemonium broke out on the stage. Starsky tried to get control of the crowd.

"Folks, folks! Just stay where you are. Someone -- you," he said pointing to one of the stage hands, "Call an ambulance."

Starsky had lost sight of Hutch in the confusion. Hutch wasn't having any better luck calming the crowd and he couldn't seem to get to Carl.

"It's all right." Ted's soft voice seemed to float above the chaos. It was gentle but full of authority. It was also familiar -- the voice of someone the cast knew and trusted. The crowd quieted and held its breath as Ted walked to where his friend had fallen. He knelt beside Carl's still figure. Using the familiar gesture, he laid his hand over Carl's heart and closed his eyes in prayer. Seconds later, he felt Carl's hand close firmly over his. The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Are you alright?" Ted asked with concern.

Carl moaned and put his other hand to his head as Hutch dropped to his side. Hutch put his hand on Carl's shoulder. "Don't try to move just yet. Are you in pain anywhere?"

"Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?"

Hutch expertly ran his hands over Carl's limbs. There didn't seem to be any broken bones. "You were out for a few seconds. Do you know where you are?"

"The Playhouse," Carl said, closing his eyes. He had one killer of a headache. "Tech rehearsal."

"Do you know who I am?" Hutch asked.

Carl opened his eyes and grinned. "Starsky."

Starsky joined his partner and laughed at the joke. "He wishes. Ambulance is on its way. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Carl said. "I just had the wind knocked out of me. I was only a few feet off the floor when it broke."

"Still," Ted said, "we're getting you checked out. You hit your head pretty hard when you came down."

"Hey, help me get up off the floor will you?"

Ted still had one hand clasped in Carl's. He put his other arm under Carl's shoulders and helped him to his feet. Once he was on his feet, Hutch helped Ted guide him to a seat on the risers. Ted sat next to him and then glanced concernedly up at Starsky and Hutch.

"I thought you said he was after me." There was no accusation in Ted's voice, just a huge amount of concern for Carl.

The detectives sighed. This case was getting more puzzling by the minute.

"Look," Hutch said, "let's not jump to conclusions here. Maybe it's just a coincidence that the noose disappeared. Maybe it was just an accident that the harness broke."

"Maybe," Starsky suggested to Hutch, "he's tryin' to get to Ted by hurtin' Carl."

Carl shook his still aching head. "No, don't you see? He didn't hurt me. If the harness had broken while I had the noose on, I'd have broken my neck. He could have killed me if he wanted to and he didn't."

"Well next time we might not be so lucky," Hutch said. "I think we need to consider canceling tonight's performance."

"No," Carl and Ted said in the same breath.

"Hutch, we can't," Ted continued. "We can't give him that much power."

Others in the cast were nodding their heads in agreement.

Starsky noticed the vein on Hutch's temple starting to pulse.

"Starsk, will you talk to them, please?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Starsky knew Hutch wasn't angry with the actors. He took his responsibility to these men seriously and he felt like he was failing. Hutch didn't fail graciously.

Starsky squatted on the floor in front of Ted and Carl. He looked them straight in the eye.

"You'll have to forgive my partner. He's just concerned about our ability to protect you. But, if you understand the risks and want to go ahead anyway, we'll respect your decision. Won't we, Hutch?"

Starsky looked up at his partner. Hutch gave him an angry, disbelieving glare.

"Come on, partner," Starsky pleaded. "You know we'd do the same thing in their shoes."

Hutch sighed. He knew Starsky was right. "Never give up?" he asked.

"Never give in," Starsky concluded.

Hutch looked at the two actors. "If you do this, I don't know if we'll be able to protect you."

"Then maybe it's time you stop trying," Carl said. His dark eyes locked onto Hutch's blue ones. "Maybe it's time we give him what he wants."

The doctors at the emergency room had given Carl a clean bill of health. He had some bumps, some bruises, and one very nasty lump on the back of his head but no concussion. Carl would be allowed to perform that evening on one condition -- that he spend the afternoon in bed, resting.

Ted had made a quick phone call to reschedule the press interviews while Starsky had arranged for two uniformed officers to accompany the actors back to their hotel. Pete Langford and his partner Joe Benson would stand watch until it was time for all of them to return to the theatre.

Carl was already settled in the back of Pete's squad car and Hutch was waiting for Starsky in the LTD.

"I can come down to the station if you need me," Ted volunteered.

"I appreciate the offer," Starsky replied, "but you should get some rest, too. Besides, God only knows how Dobey's gonna react to this."

Ted smiled and laid a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Then let's leave it in His hands."

"Absolutely not," Dobey said, "I won't allow it!"

Harold Dobey could feel his blood pressure rising. Starsky, who normally would have been seated with his feet propped on his captain's desk, was instead standing politely in front of it. Hutch was pacing nervously behind him.

"With all due respect, Captain," Starsky replied calmly, "They don't work for you. You can't disallow it."

"Well I can disallow you!" Dobey said, raising his voice. "And I can put enough uniformed officers around those two to make it damn near impossible for them to carry this thing out!"

"I don't think you want to do that, Captain," Starsky said in the same calm voice.

Dobey wasn't sure which was more irritating: Starsky's uncharacteristic politeness or Hutch's incessant pacing.

"Hutchinson! Can you light somewhere?"

The detective stopped in mid-step, blushing slightly. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Dobey's desk. The captain studied the blonde detective. Hutch was likely to be the more cautious of the two. He'd work on him.

"I'm surprised you agree with this hare-brained scheme," Dobey observed.

Hutch opened his mouth to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Starsky sending him a pleading look. Dobey caught it, too. He loved it when they showed their hands. Starsky wasn't about to fold but he could tell Hutch wasn't as confident about playing his cards. Dobey still had a chance with him.

"Well," Dobey demanded, "what have you got to say?"

"Cap'n," Starsky began.

"I'm not talking to you, Starsky. I want to know what your partner has to say."

Both men looked expectantly at Hutch. Hutch knew how Dobey felt. He'd felt the same way a few hours earlier. You didn't allow the people you were protecting to deliberately put themselves in danger. It wasn't smart, it wasn't responsible and it just didn't make a hell of a lot of sense. Still, despite his own misgivings, he knew Starsky was depending on him to go along with this.

"You know what I say, Captain?" Hutch began. "I say it's six days before Christmas and maybe the best thing we can give Ted and Carl is the chance to wrap this guy in a straight jacket and send him to the state hospital for the holidays."

"And what if somebody gets killed?" Dobey asked. "What kind of Christmas will their families have if one of them goes home wrapped in a body bag?"

"They know the risks, Captain," Starsky replied. "Hutch and I painted a dozen different scenarios for them."

"None of them good," Hutch added. "They understand what could happen if something goes wrong."

"They've prayed about this, Cap," Starsky concluded. "It's somethin' they need to do. And Hutch and I want to help them."

"Well I don't like it. I don't like it one bit," Dobey said.

"But do we have your permission?" Hutch asked.

"Are you asking for it?" Dobey questioned.

Hutch looked expectantly at Starsky. He knew his partner was willing to go without it but Ted and Carl had insisted they play by the book. If it was meant to happen, Dobey would say "yes".

Starsky looked his captain straight in the eye and with every ounce of sincerity he had, he replied, "We're askin' for it. I'm askin' for it. If you say 'no', we won't do it."

It would have been easy to say no, easy and probably smart but Dobey had learned to trust his detectives' gut instincts. If they felt this strongly about it, it just might be the right thing to do. One thing was for sure; Ted and Carl weren't the only ones who'd be praying.

They'd stopped at Starsky's place first so he could shower and change and gather up his camera equipment. Hutch had used the opportunity to grab a few winks on Starsky's couch.

"Should have taken the bed," Starsky said when Hutch woke up with kinks in his back. "You're not as young as you used to be."

Now Hutch stood in his own shower, letting the hot water roll over his shoulders and down his back. He could feel the aches and pains melting away.

"Do you know what's wrong with your place, Hutch?" Starsky had asked when they first arrived.

"No, Starsk. Why don't you tell me what's wrong with my place."

"No wreath, no Christmas tree, no colored lights."

Hutch had started to argue and then remembered Starsky in the reindeer nose and, later, in tears at the hotel. He had affectionately grabbed Starsky at the back of his neck. "You know what, buddy? When we finish this case, I'm gonna take you to the tree lot and we'll buy the biggest Christmas tree they have, okay?"

Starsky's eyes had lit up like a little kid's.

"'Kay."

Hutch turned the water off and reluctantly stepped out of the shower. He toweled off and slipped on his robe. Wiping the fog off the mirror with his sleeve, he stared at his reflection. Maybe Starsky was right. Maybe it was time to stop mourning the past and start celebrating the present.

Hutch walked into the living room and was greeted by Christmas music playing on the radio:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight.1

Starsky was stretched out on the sofa; snoring softly, his arms wrapped around a white teddy bear. Hutch smiled when he saw the bear. Feeling slightly paternal, he pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and laid it over Starsky and Ollie. Ollie had been Terry's bear. She had entrusted him and Starsky to Hutch, with instructions to love and care for them both.

"And I really blew that assignment," Hutch thought to himself. "I was so caught up in my own problems that I didn't even realize how much pain he was in." He thought of Terry and silently promised her that Starsky would never again have to pour out his heartache to a stranger in a hotel room.

His eyes were beginning to mist up when the doorbell rang. He hurried over to open it, hoping to keep the caller from waking his friend. He was surprised to find Mike Pierce waiting on the other side.

"Hutch, hi. I'm sorry I missed you at the station earlier. I got called out on another case."

Hutch tried to wipe his eyes on the sly but Mike caught him. He noticed Starsky crashed on the sofa.

"I'm sorry, is it a bad time?"

"No," Hutch said. "Just wrestling with a few ghosts of Christmas past."

Mike smiled as he came into the house. "Good for you."

"Have a seat," Hutch said closing the door. "Can I get you something? Beer? Coffee?"

"I'm off the clock so a beer would be great."

Hutch leaned over his sleeping partner, "Starsk."

Starsky clutched the bear tighter and buried his head deeper in the sofa cushions.

"Starsk, wake up."

"Is it morning already?" Starsky mumbled.

"No, it's still afternoon. Mike stopped by. He needs to talk to us about the case."

"Right now?" Starsky sighed.

"Ya, partner, right now. Do you think you can sit up?"

"Ya, I can do that," Starsky said. It took him a few more seconds to wake up. Then he slowly sat up, wrapping the afghan around him, unapologetically holding on to Ollie.

"Mornin', Mike."

"Hi, Starsky. Sorry to interrupt your nap," Mike said, sitting down in a nearby chair.

"Well, I'm willin' to forgive and forget but I think Ollie was in deep hibernation mode."

"Well, then my apologies to Ollie," Mike smiled.

"Do you want a beer, Starsk?" Hutch asked as he headed toward the fridge.

"I think I need coffee."

"Okay, coffee it is."

"With lots of sugar."

Hutch returned a minute later with a beer for Mike, a cup of coffee for Starsky, and a beer for himself. He sat down on the sofa next to Starsky.

"So, Mike, what do you know?"

Mike had done a computer check on the cast and crew as well as on the employees of the various theatres and hotels the company had used. He'd found a misdemeanor here and there and the occasional unpaid traffic ticket but nothing that indicated any kind of real criminal or psychotic history.

"We did find a number of temporary hires at all of the theatres and hotels. None of the names or social security numbers matched but we're running a check of hire and fire dates to see if there are any similarities. It's entirely possible that he's using fake IDs to get hired at these places. Unfortunately, it'll take a while to track all this down and I understand from Captain Dobey that we don't have a while."

"He told you about our plan, then?" Hutch asked.

Mike nodded.

"It feels like the right thing to do," Starsky said. "But you tell us, are we even close to getting inside this guy's head?"

"I think so and so does Dobey. That's why what you're doing is so dangerous. This guy will jump at the chance to see Ted betrayed by a friend because that's what he thinks Ted has done to him. But Carl has to be absolutely convincing or it will never work. Do you want to run the scenario by me?"

"Sure," Hutch said, taking a swallow of his beer. "Ted and Carl are planning to be a little distant to each other at the theatre tonight. No harsh words or fights, just a little subtle tension that our friend might pick up on. After the show, they'll keep their regular routine of meeting the fans and signing autographs. Starsky's bringing his camera along and he's gong to be taking photos of the crowd while I do the roving reporter thing."

"You realize," Mike interrupted, "that he probably already has you pegged as cops."

"Ya," Starsky replied, "but we don't want him to know that we know. We figure it'll make him a little bit cocky if he thinks we're not the brightest crayons in the box."

"Okay," Mike agreed, "Go on."

"Then it's on to a late night dinner at the Pits," Hutch continued. "They'll have words. Ted will want to call it a night and Carl will basically tell us all to go to hell and leave him alone."

"Which we'll do," Starsky continued. "Then we'll circle around the block and come in the back door. Carl's going to be wired and we'll set up surveillance in Huggy's kitchen."

"And," Hutch said, "with a little luck, our friend will decide that Carl is a kindred spirit and want to swap life stories with him."

"What happens then?" Mike asked.

"Well, I guess that depends on what this guy has in mind for Ted," Starsky replied. "We know we don't have anything concrete on him so we have to let him play this out as far as we can."

Mike nodded in agreement. "I spoke to the DA and she agrees. All we've got now is circumstantial evidence and that's shaky at best. If you want this guy off the streets for good, you're almost going to have to catch him in the act. Are Ted and Carl willing to take that risk?"

"Ya, they are," Hutch said. "But I think they're counting on us to pull the plug if it gets too dangerous."

Mike sighed, finishing his beer. "That may be the one hole in your plan. This guy's not stable. Pulling the plug may make him more dangerous than he already is and if we can't hold him..."

"Then we'll just have to see it all the way through, won't we?" Starsky said.

Mike put his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and stood to leave. "Keep me posted. I'll let you know if we turn anything new on this end."

"Thanks for coming by, Mike," Hutch said, rising to open the door.

"There is one other thing Dobey wanted me to tell you. Don't try to be heroes."

"Anything else?" Starsky asked.

"Do be heroes," Mike said strongly. "But be careful heroes."

Security was tight at the Playhouse. Guards were posted at every door leading backstage. The safety harnesses had been replaced and kept under careful observation. The hydraulics on the cross, the trap doors, scaffolding and props had all been checked and re- checked. Short of making the audience pass through metal detectors (an idea everyone had nixed), the theatre was as secure as it could be.

Ted and Carl were alone in their dressing room. They had just finished getting into their costumes for the evening performance.

"So," Ted said, adjusting his robes one final time, "I guess this is it."

"I guess so," Carl said, studying his friend's face. "Scared?"

"Yes," Ted admitted. "How about you?"

"Oh, ya," Carl confessed.

"Any second thoughts about going through with this?" Ted asked.

"No," Carl replied. "I want this guy off the streets. I want to know you're going to be around to open your Christmas presents." Ted smiled as Carl continued, "What about you? Is this still what you want?"

Ted considered the question seriously before responding. "What I want is for this not to be happening at all but since it is... yes, this is what I want to do."

There was a knock on the dressing room door.

"Ted, Carl, curtain in ten," the stage manager called, "Five if you're praying, Ted."

"Thanks, Joan," the two men said in unison.

Carl started to open the door and then stopped. He turned back to Ted.

"Look, if things go badly tonight -- if something goes wrong -- there are some things I wanted my family to know. Things I want to say to you. I left an envelope..."

"Back at the hotel," Ted finished his thought.

Carl looked at him in surprise. "You found it?"

"No," Ted said with a smile. "I did the same thing. Just in case."

A look of understanding passed between them. They were old friends and words weren't necessary. Ted laid his hand on Carl's heart. Carl held it there for a second and then agonizingly pulled it away.

"Until it's over," Carl said.

Ted gripped Carl in a bear hug. "Be careful, my friend."

"You, too," Carl replied. "Pray for me."

"Always," responded Ted, "Vaya con Dios."

Consummate actors, Ted and Carl harnessed all that nervous energy and channeled it into their roles. The audience was spellbound. Critics would later describe their performances as "riveting" and "electrifying".

One reviewer would note that Jesus Christ Superstar was "a jammin' rock 'n roll experience. Neeley has the Jesus moves down to an art form and plays the title role perfectly. His vocal range is amazing."2

Still another would write "Neeley takes us inside Jesus' soul in a way Scripture can't." 3

They were equally impressed with Carl. "Watching Anderson's Judas destroy himself is like watching a man set himself on fire before your eyes; he brings that much intensity to the role."4

From their vantage point in the third row, Starsky and Hutch were also transfixed. In the last twenty-four hours, they had come to know and respect the two actors. Their friendship was genuine and deep, making the relationship between their characters come to life as well.

It was the final song of the first act. The program noted that it was Tuesday of Passover Week. Carl was about to bring the house down.

Actress Shelley Winters once said, "Every now and then, when you're on stage, you hear the best sound a player can hear. It is the sound of a wonderful deep silence that means you've hit them where they live."

That wonderful silence hung in the Playhouse as the lights came up for intermission. It took a moment for the spell to be broken and for the audience to remember to applaud.

"Wow!" Starsky said in amazement.

"You took the word right out of my mouth," Hutch agreed. "Let's hit the lobby and talk to some people."

Press badges around their necks, they began mingling with the audience on the pretext of doing a story on the show's great appeal to the public. Many of the people they spoke with had seen the show multiple times and were long time fans of both the musical and its two stars.

Starsky viewed the room through the lens of his camera; shooting interesting faces and asking a question here and there.

Hutch looked for people who seemed to be by themselves; asking their opinion of the show and their opinion of Ted and Carl, hoping someone, somewhere might hint at darker feelings.

The lobby on the mezzanine level looked out over the main lobby. A solitary figure nursed a drink and watched as the detectives worked the crowd below.

"Fools," he thought. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. He had covered his tracks well and had no doubt that he could easily outwit the two officers. He toyed with the idea of strolling through the main lobby and was about to do just that when the house lights flashed, signaling the audience to return to their seats.

He finished his drink, throwing the cup in the trash before he returned to his seat. This was his favorite part of the show. He knew what happened on stage wasn't real but he greatly enjoyed seeing the actor bound and mistreated. Soon, all too soon, he intended for him to experience the real thing. After all, it was no less than he deserved.

There was a moment early on in the second act that really tugged at Hutch's heart.

"Some friends," Hutch thought to himself. How could they not have seen his pain? "How could you not have seen Starsky's?" he thought guiltily.

Starsky leaned his head in toward Hutch and brought his hand to his mouth to cover a whisper. Hutch leaned his ear toward Starsky, wondering what he had spotted.

"Stop beatin' yourself up," Starsky whispered. "I forgive you already."

Hutch looked at Starsky in shocked surprise. How had he known?

Starsky gave him a crooked grin and then turned his attention back to the stage.

The betrayal was devastating to watch. Any concerns the detectives may have had about Carl's ability to be convincing went right out the window.

It seemed a little too real at times. Starsky had to fight the urge to jump on stage and wrestle Ted from the hands of his tormentors. He knew Hutch was fighting the same urge because he could feel him shifting nervously in the next seat.

Carl changed into his costume for the finale (a sharp looking white suit with a white sequined vest) and then returned to the wings to await his next cue.

"And," he admitted to himself, "to keep an eye on Teddy."

The crowd is relentless in their cry for crucifixion. Pilate hopes that a flogging will make them more sympathetic to Jesus' plight.

While on stage, Carl had succeeded in keeping his fear at bay. Now, watching Ted broken and bleeding on the ground, it attacked him with a vengeance. What if something went wrong? What if he screwed up and Ted got killed because of it? Could he live with that or would he end up like Judas, swaying from a rope?

The scene had a similar affect on Starsky and Hutch. When Ted had collapsed on the stage, the two men had turned to look at each other; deep concern etched on their faces. They both sighed and turned their eyes back to the stage. In their heads, they knew taking control of the situation was the best way to go. Better to have things play out on their turf, by their rules. But in their hearts...

They were right to be concerned, for slipping out of the theatre was the man who most wanted to see the actor broken, bleeding and barely alive. It was only a matter of time now. Everything was playing out exactly as he'd planned. And, should the need arise, he was perfectly willing to take Anderson and those two pesky cops along for the ride.

A storm was coming in -- thunder rumbled in the distance and an occasional flash of lightning brightened the night sky. There was no rain yet but a strong wind made the December night seem much chillier than it actually was. None of this dampened the spirits of the fans gathering outside the stage door of the Playhouse.

The sidewalk leading from the theatre was separated from the parking lot by a concrete wall. Starsky, camera in hand, was perched atop the wall directly across from the stage door. It was a prime position for picture taking.

Hutch, on the other hand, was working the line and talking to anyone and everyone. He was amazed at the crowd's dynamics. Total strangers stood in line sharing stories and waiting patiently to meet the cast. They were all more than willing to chat with Hutch. Some had met the actors before and obviously felt like they were waiting to greet old friends. No doubt, Ted and Carl made their fans feel like family -- an admirable quality -- only in one case it had backfired dangerously.

Every head turned toward the stage door as it opened. Sarah smiled as she stepped into the crowd.

"Sorry," she said, looking at the expectant faces, "it's just me. They'll be out shortly."

She signed a few autographs and smiled sweetly at Starsky who snapped her picture. She worked her way through the crowd quickly as the rest of the cast had done. Then she climbed aboard the bus that was waiting to take them all back to their hotel. Since Carl and Ted would be leaving with the detectives, the bus closed its doors and pulled out of the lot.

The stage door opened again and Carl, six-pack of evian tucked under his arm, stepped out into the chilly night air. An ominous rumble of thunder greeted him. The fans closest to the door immediately surrounded him but Starsky was amazed at how patiently they all waited their turn to speak with him.

Since they were all still waiting for Ted, Carl worked his way down the line, talking to fans, signing autographs and posing for photos. He was delighted to see so many familiar faces and yet he wondered if one of them was the person plotting to harm his friend. It seemed impossible and yet he knew someone, somewhere was waiting to do just that.

Hutch caught up with him as he was talking to a theatre major from Bay City Community College. The young man, whose name was Bill, was commenting that his father was concerned about what type of job security acting would give his son.

"It isn't easy," Carl admitted, "but I'm an actor and a singer and a musician. When one gets slow, I just switch to the next one."

"Sounds like a good plan," Bill said. He turned to Hutch and held out his camera, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Hutch replied.

Carl signed Bill's program and then posed for few pictures. He shook Bill's hand warmly and then moved on down the line.

Hutch returned the camera, "I hope I didn't cut anyone's head off."

"Thanks," Bill said.

Hutch stuck close to Carl. The actor was doing a good job of dropping subtle hints that all was not well between he and his co-star. He was careful not to make any derogatory remarks. Instead, when Ted's name came up, he simply changed the subject. If the speaker persisted, he would reply somewhat tersely, "I don't know. You'll have to ask him that yourself."

More than one person seemed concerned about the apparent rift. The plan was to let Ted smooth things over by saying that Carl was simply having a bad day. Hopefully, the fans would give Carl the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, the whole point of this exercise was to reach out to whoever was threatening Ted.

"We're throwing out the bait," Hutch thought, his eyes scanning the crowd, "but no one seems to be biting."

He glanced toward the stage door. A little boy -- maybe five years old -- was climbing up on the wall next to Starsky.

"Whatcha doin'?" the little boy asked.

Starsky lowered the camera and smiled at the child. He had blonde hair and blue eyes - - a little Hutch!

"I'm takin' pictures," Starsky told him. "What are you doin'?"

"My mommy and daddy and me are waiting to see Jesus."

"Oh, I see," Starsky said. "Would you like me to take your picture when you meet him?"

The little boy's eyes lit up and he nodded an enthusiastic "yes".

"So, what's your name?" Starsky asked, checking to make sure the child was safely seated on the wall.

"Timmy. What's yours?"

"I'm Dave," Starsky said, shaking hands with the youngster.

"Santa's bringing me a puppy this Christmas," Timmy said, delighted to be sharing secrets with his new friend.

"A puppy?!" Starsky exclaimed. "That's great! You must have been really good this year."

"I was," said Timmy very seriously. "It was really hard."

Starsky laughed and ruffled the child's blonde hair. "Good for you, champ."

"What did you ask Santa to bring you, Dave?" Timmy asked.

Grief unexpectedly tugged at Starsky's heart. He looked into the miniature version of his partner's face. He wanted Terry -- wanted their children -- but since he couldn't have that, there was something Santa could bring him.

"See that guy down there, Timmy?" Starsky asked as he waved at Hutch. Timmy nodded as Hutch returned the wave. "That's my best friend Hutch. He's been kind of sad. When he was a little boy like you, he always spent Christmas with his grandpa. But his grandpa died and he misses him a lot -- especially at Christmas time."

"Did his grandpa go to heaven?" Timmy asked, looking at Hutch with concern.

"Ya, I think he went to heaven," Starsky said with a catch in his throat.

Timmy gently laid a hand on Starsky's arm. "Then he should have a happy heart."

Starsky laid his hand over Timmy's and said, "You're right, Timmy. And that's what I want from Santa. I want him to bring Hutch a happy heart."

"That's a good gift," Timmy said.

A young couple walked over to the wall. "I'm sorry," the man said. "Has he been bothering you?"

"Not at all," Starsky answered honestly. "I promised to take his picture when he meets Ted." The stage door opened. "And speak of the devil..."

"It's Jesus!" Timmy shouted.

Ted smiled and immediately came over to speak to Timmy and his parents.

"That's right," Ted said, "I was pretending to be Jesus."

Starsky jumped down off the wall to shoot some pictures as Ted spoke with the little family and signed a program for Timmy. Timmy's dad left his business card with Starsky so that he could send them copies of the photos.

"Merry Christmas, Timmy," Ted said as the family prepared to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Ted!" Timmy said, climbing into his dad's arms. "Merry Christmas, Dave! I hope you get what you want for Christmas!"

"You, too, Timmy," Starsky replied. "Take good care of that puppy!"

"I will!"

A woman and her ten-year old daughter were next in line to speak with Ted. The woman told him how distraught her daughter had been during the second act.

"She thought they were really doing those things to you! We tried to come backstage after the show but they said no one was allowed back there."

Starsky had climbed back up on the wall. From his vantage spot, he could see the vein pulsing angrily on the side of Ted's forehead.

"Who told you that?" Ted asked. But the anger disappeared as quickly as it had come. The little girl was all that mattered.

Bending down so that they were eye-to-eye, Ted carefully explained that what happened on stage was just make believe. He told her in detail how everything was done with props and make-up. He held out his hands for her and she carefully examined them for any telltale nail marks. Eventually, satisfied that he hadn't been hurt, she put her arms around his neck and gave him a huge squeeze.

"I should have brought my camera," her mom lamented.

"Not a problem," Starsky said, snapping the shutter on his camera. "Why don't you get in the picture, too?"

He took their picture and added another business card to his jacket pocket. As the woman and her daughter headed toward the parking lot, Starsky smiled at Ted and said, "I think I'm gonna need bigger pockets."

Ted laughed appreciatively and then turned his attention to the next person in line.

Meanwhile, Carl had made his way to the end of the line. He offered Hutch a bottle of water, which the detective gratefully accepted. His throat was parched from talking to so many people for such a long time.

Carl opened his own bottle and leaned back against the theatre wall; taking a long drink. He glanced down toward the stage door. Ted was surrounded once again, laughing, signing autographs and posing for pictures. Starsky was shooting pictures with his camera and any other that was thrust into his hands.

A very light mist began to fall.

"We're really lucky, you know," Carl observed.

"How's that?" Hutch asked.

"Ted and I come from really different backgrounds. We look at life differently. We react to things differently. But in every way that really matters, we're the same." Hutch smiled knowingly as Carl continued, "I've done this show without him before and, no matter how good the actor playing Jesus is, it just never clicks like it does with Ted. We're really in tune with each other. I don't even know how to explain it. And when I look at you and Starsky, I know I don't have to."

"Is he always like that?" Hutch asked.

"Like what?"

"Like this," Hutch said. "I mean we've been out here for an hour and a half. It's dark. It's cold."

"It's raining," Carl noted with a smile, seeing where Hutch was heading.

"It's raining," Hutch agreed. "And I know you're both scared about what might go down tonight." Carl waited for him to continue. "But look at him. He hasn't rushed a single conversation. I don't think he's even looked up to see how many people are still waiting to talk to him. How does he do that?"

"It's simple," Carl replied. "He just puts their needs ahead of his own."

"Does he drive you nuts sometimes?" Hutch asked.

Carl laughed. "Sometimes. Starsky?"

"Oh, ya," Hutch laughed. "Still, I can't imagine not having him as my partner. He's my best friend, my brother."

Carl nodded in understanding. "God is good," he said, raising his water bottle to Hutch. "To friendship."

Hutch tapped his water bottle to Carl's. "To friendship."

The crowd was finally beginning to disperse. One last group had clustered around Ted. They were students from a local high school. Earlier that month, they had starred in their own production of Jesus Christ Superstar. Now they stood in the misty rain, softly singing the title song to Ted.

Carl and Hutch came over to listen. When the song was finished, all four men applauded.

"That was wonderful!" Ted said. "How about another song?"

"A Christmas song!" one of the teens suggested.

Someone started "Joy to the World" and soon everyone was singing along. Starsky finished up his roll of film with a wonderful shot of Hutch joyously harmonizing with Ted and Carl and the kids. They all applauded each other at the end.

"Do you have time for one more?" one of the kids asked Ted.

"Sure," he replied. "Do you have a favorite?"

"I do!" one of the girls said and began singing, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

Starsky quietly took a few steps away from the group, pretending to pack up his camera. Hutch had caught the shadow that had passed over his partner's face. This time, he was right by his side.

"Are you okay, buddy?" he asked softly.

"Ya," Starsky said. "I was just thinkin' how much Terry would have loved this. I just wish she could be here."

Hutch laid his hand on Starsky's heart. "She's right here, Starsk. Just like she promised she would be."

Starsky smiled and put his hand over Hutch's. Carl caught them out of the corner of his eye and nudged Ted who smiled to see the detectives using their gesture.

By the time the song was finished, the thunder and lighting were stronger and the mist had turned into a real rain. Everyone shared hugs and Christmas wishes before the kids headed off to their cars.

"So, what now?" Carl asked.

"We go to Huggy's," Starsky said. "Just 'cause we couldn't pick him out doesn't mean he wasn't here."

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Ted asked with concern.

"I'll be okay," Starsky assured him. "Thanks for askin'."

"To the Pits?" Carl asked.

"Gentlemen," Hutch replied, "your tomato awaits."

"Don't pick on my car, Hutch," Starsky warned.

A dark, late model sedan was parked down the street from the theatre. As lightening flashed, the car's occupant sunk lower into his seat. He couldn't risk being seen just yet.

He watched as the four men got into the Torino. If that wasn't just the damnedest thing -- an undercover cop tooling around town in a candy apple red Torino with a white racing stripe. Which of course, he thought, was why they were in the Torino and not the other's LTD. They were making themselves targets. They wanted to be followed. The man smiled to himself. They'd drastically underestimated their opponent.

The storm was in full force now and the windshield wipers kept a steady rhythm as the Torino headed towards the Pits.

"Don't look now," Starsky said when they were several blocks away from the theatre, "but I think we're bein' followed."

Hutch glanced in the rear view mirror. The rain made it impossible to identify the driver who was keeping a safe distance behind them.

"I can't make out the plates," Hutch said.

"Shall I slow down?" Starsky asked.

"No, let's not risk spooking him," Hutch replied. At this point in time, it didn't really matter if they could identify him or not. The important thing was to get him to follow them to the Pits.

"Everybody doin' okay?" Starsky asked. He'd noticed that Ted and Carl had been exceptionally quiet since leaving the theatre parking lot.

"As okay as we can be with a killer following us," Carl mused.

Hutch turned in his seat so that he could study the faces of the two men in back. "It's still not too late to back out," he said.

"And what would happen then?" Ted asked.

"We could spin around, pull him over and take him down to the station for questioning," Hutch said.

"With a little luck," Starsky continued, "we might be able to get him to confess."

"Or not," Hutch added.

"Still in?" Ted asked Carl.

"Still in," Carl answered.

"Bring it on then," Ted said.

"Okay," Hutch said.

"Okay," Starsky agreed.

Several minutes later, the Torino pulled to a stop in front of Huggy's. A block away, the sedan turned into an alley.

"So far so good," Starsky said as they got out of the car.

The Pits was packed with holiday revelers. Huggy spotted them as soon as they came in the door and went to meet them.

"Open bar tonight, Hug?" Hutch asked as he eyed the packed house.

"Do I look like Santa Claus?" Huggy asked. "However, in the spirit of the season, I do have a present for you."

He led them to a table smack dab in the middle of everything. "One table, center stage."

"Thanks, Hug," Starsky said. "You're a prince among men."

"We owe you one," Hutch added.

"You owe me several," Huggy corrected. "But whose keeping count? I'll settle for your help on the 23rd."

"We'll be there," Hutch promised.

"Count on us," Starsky added.

The night before Christmas Eve, Huggy was planning on closing the Pits to its usual clientele and hosting instead a pre-Christmas dinner for the homeless. The detectives planned on lending a hand since they were off duty that evening. It was one of the few Christmas activities that Hutch didn't protest being involved with.

The men sat down at the table and went to work. Carl made a point of sitting in between the detectives and not by Ted. Huggy brought them dinner and drinks. Carl quickly downed most of his mug of beer (which was actually cream soda) and ordered another.

"You know, you probably shouldn't be drinking while you're taking that pain medication," Ted said.

"Why don't you mind your own business?!" Carl said loudly.

Several people turned to see what was happening at the table.

"He didn't mean anything, Carl," Starsky said, trying to calm the man down.

"Mixing drugs and beer is not going to help what's wrong here," Ted said patiently.

"What's wrong here," Carl raged, "is your holier-than-thou attitude."

Huggy delivered the second "beer".

"Look, my man," Huggy said, "you'll have to keep it down to a small roar. You're disturbing my other patrons." He looked at the other men. "I hope one of you is the designated driver."

"It's okay, Huggy," Hutch assured. "Starsky's driving."

"Okay," Huggy said. He turned to Carl. "But take it slow, bro. The night is young."

The other men finished their meals while Carl continued to go through one beer after another. With each glass, he became more belligerent and much louder. He was so convincing that at one point, Starsky tried to catch a whiff from the glass to make sure Huggy hadn't switched over to the real thing.

"Mr. Beer!!" Carl hollered to Huggy. "Another bear, please!"

Ted laid his napkin on his plate and stood up. "I think maybe it's time we headed back to the hotel."

Hutch also got to his feet. "I think that sounds like a good idea."

Starsky pulled some bills from his wallet and got up to pay their tab. "I'll meet you at the door."

"Where? Where's everybody going?" Carl slurred.

"We're going back to the hotel. I think it's time to call it a night," Hutch said. He reached out to help Carl to his feet but Carl swatted his hand away.

"I'm not going anywhere. You heard Haggy..."

"Huggy," Hutch corrected.

"Whoever. The night is young and I have not yet begun to party."

Ted put an arm around his friend's back and tried to pull him to his feet. "Come on, Carl. I think you've done just about all the partying you can for one night."

Carl pushed Ted aside with so much force that, if Hutch hadn't reached out to steady him, he would have fallen on the floor. By now, everyone in the place was checking out the fight.

"I said I'm not ready to leave!"

Hutch tried reasoning with him. "Well, seeing how we have the car, you don't really have a choice."

"Look, man, I don't need your car and I don't need you telling me what to do!"

"Take it easy, Carl," Ted said in a calming voice. "He's just trying to help you."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Leave me alone."

"Carl," Hutch began.

Carl got to his feet, somewhat unsteadily and put his face in Hutch's. "Get the hell away from me!"

Seeing the scene getting ugly, several of Huggy's patrons had left the bar.

"Look," Huggy said coming over to the table, "either take him away or leave him alone. You're scaring off the paying customers."

"And how's he supposed to get home?" Hutch asked.

"Leave me some cash and I'll see he gets a cab," Huggy said.

Hutch started to reach for his wallet.

"Let me," Ted said. He pulled out his wallet and gave some money to Huggy. He reached in again and gave the man another bill. "For your trouble."

"Think nothing of it," Huggy said, pocketing the money.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Ted asked Carl who was now sitting down at the table.

"Just go," Carl replied.

Starsky, Hutch and Ted had gone out the door and gotten in the car. Starsky drove around the block and let Hutch out at the back door. Then he and Ted drove around the neighborhood a few times trying to spot the sedan they'd seen earlier in the evening. Unfortunately, there hadn't been anything particularly memorable about the car and there were no less than a dozen dark sedans in the neighborhood. Feeling somewhat defeated, they circled back to the alley behind Huggy's and joined Hutch in the kitchen.

"What's shakin'?" Starsky asked, pulling one of Hutch's earphones aside so that he could listen, too.

Hutch passed the entire headset over to him. "Nothing so far. Did you find the car?"

"We found twelve of them," Ted informed him.

"But only one Tomato," Starsky said with pride.

Hutch laughed and then Starsky shushed him.

"What is it?" Hutch asked.

The look of anticipation faded from Starsky's face. "False alarm. It was just some other drunk wanting to commiserate about the lack of true Christmas Spirit."

"Oh," Hutch said.

The rest of the evening went like that. They traded the headset back and forth with each other and Ted just to help fight the boredom. Several people had approached Carl but their motives weren't in the least bit suspicious.

At one point, Carl had even gotten up and drunkenly made his way around the room trying to engage people in conversation. But nothing came of that either.

Eventually, Huggy gave a last call and the bar began to clear out. He followed the last group to the door and locked it behind them. He picked up a box from the bar marked "glassware" and headed over to the table where Carl was sitting dejectedly. He set the box on the table.

"I'm sorry, man," Huggy said. "I thought for sure the dude would show."

"Ya, me too. The coast is clear boys," Carl said into the wire that was under his shirt. "You can come on out now."

He pulled up his shirt and tore the microphone wires loose, dropping the whole thing on the table. The other men entered the room looking equally disappointed.

"Well," Starsky said, "I guess we'll just have to try again tomorrow night." He smiled at Carl. "You were great by the way."

"Thanks," Carl sighed, "not that it did much good."

"He's got his own agenda," Hutch said. "All we can do is try again."

"Starsky and Hutch were telling us about your pre-Christmas dinner for the homeless," Carl said to Huggy. "That's a classy thing to do, man."

"Well," Huggy said, "one does what one can."

"So how'd you like some entertainment for the party?"

"I'd love some," Huggy said. "Unfortunately every penny in the budget is tagged for food."

"What if it's free?" Ted asked.

"Are your for real?" Huggy asked and then turned to Carl. "Is he for real?"

Carl smiled. "Oh, he's for real. The cast always tries to give something back to the communities we visit. This is right up our alley."

"And," Ted continued, "we only have a matinee that day so we're available if you want us."

"You're hired!" Huggy said. "And maybe, out of the goodness of your hearts, you'll let these two bozos jam with you."

"We'd be honored," Carl said.

"Then it's a deal," Huggy smiled. "Speaking of bozos, are you gentlemen ready to leave?"

"I just need to check in with Dobey first. Can I use your phone, Hug?" Starsky asked.

"You leave the dime you can use my line," Huggy said, picking up the box of glasses. "I'm just gonna put these back in the supply room then I'll let you out the back way."

"Thanks, Huggy," Hutch said.

Starsky went behind the bar. He made a big show of digging a dime from his pocket and ringing up a ten-cent sale on the cash register. Huggy shook his head and disappeared down the hall with the glassware. Starsky pulled Huggy's phone from beneath the bar and dialed Dobey.

"Captain, Starsky here... no, he was a no show. We're just gettin' ready to head back to the hotel... we'll check in with Mike in the morning... but not too early in the morning... okay... toodles, Cap'n."

He hung up the phone just as the sound of a loud crash came from the supply room.

"Damn!" Huggy cussed.

Starsky laughed and called down the hallway, "Save the big pieces, Huggy." Then he turned to Hutch and said, "I'd better go help him or we'll be here all night."

Starsky headed off down the hall as Carl picked up a pool cue. "Think we have time for a quick game?"

Hutch grabbed a cue for himself. "Sure, why let the evening be a total loss? Rack 'em up, Ted."

Starsky was humming a Christmas carol as he entered the supply room.

"Huggy, what the hell..."

He felt something hard strike the back of his head. The floor rose up to meet his face and then everything went black.

Hutch had just sunk a great shot. He looked up to brag when Starsky came back in the room -- only it wasn't Starsky. Instinctively, Hutch reached for his weapon.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you, Detective," the man said, pointing a gun at them. "Now take it out nice and slow and set it on the bar."

Hutch slowly pulled the gun from its holster and set it down gently on the bar.

"Now push it down this way," the man demanded. Hutch did as he was told.

"Now put down the pool cues," the man said as he picked up Hutch's gun and put it in his belt.

Carl and Hutch laid their cues down on the pool table. Then they both stepped protectively in front of Ted.

"Just stay calm," Hutch said, "there's no need for anyone to get hurt here."

"Oh someone is very definitely going to get hurt here but there's no need for it to be you."

Ted stepped in between his two friends. "Look, I'm the one you want. Let them go."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that," the man said, his voice dripping with venom. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of an audience. I know how much you love pretending to be something that you're not." He waited for a response from Ted but when none came, he ordered, "Come over here."

Ted started to walk over to him but Hutch put a hand on Ted's shoulder, holding him back.

"Come here," the man demanded.

"It's okay, Hutch," Ted said. He walked over to the man who immediately grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Ted winced in pain and this time Hutch had to stop Carl from heading over to tackle the man.

"Okay," Hutch said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. "We'll do whatever you say. Just take it easy."

"Into the supply room -- all of you -- and don't try anything funny."

Starsky was dimly aware that he was sitting in a chair and that his hands and feet were bound. He opened his eyes and the room slowly came into focus. He didn't like what he saw. Huggy and Carl were similarly bound. Ted was also seated in a chair, his ankles bound. Hutch was in the process of tying his hands behind his back. Standing in front of them, with a gun pointed at Ted, was the stranger they'd been waiting for.

"Whoa," Starsky sighed, "you close your eyes for a few minutes and you miss the third act."

"Are you okay?" Hutch asked with concern as he finished tying Ted's wrists.

"Ya, I think so," Starsky said although the room was still a little fuzzy.

"Shut up!" the man with the gun demanded, pointing it at Hutch. "Sit down."

Hutch couldn't think of anything he could do without putting the other men in danger so he reluctantly sank into the other chair.

"Now toss me your handcuffs."

Hutch raised up a little to get the cuffs out of his back pocket. He tossed them to his captor.

"Now put your hands behind your back."

The man carefully moved behind Hutch and cuffed his hands. Next, he tied Hutch's ankles to the chair legs. He checked on the other prisoners to make sure Hutch had tied them securely. Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Okay, here's the deal. I'm going out front for a beer and a cigarette. When I come back, I'm going to vent a little of my pent up frustration on one of you. And just to show you I'm not a bad guy, I'll even let you pick who gets to go first. Any questions?"

"You plannin' on payin' for that beer?" Huggy asked.

The man laughed as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"You want to flip for it?" Starsky asked Hutch.

"And just what are you proposing we flip?" Hutch asked.

"Well, I thought we could knock Huggy's chair over. If he lands on his back, I'll go. If he falls on his side, you go."

"Thanks a lot, Starsky," Huggy said. "Look, I'm the most expendable. I should go first."

"No, Hug," Starsky protested, "This isn't your fight."

"I'll go," Carl offered.

"No," Hutch said. "I'll do it."

"It should be me," Ted said.

"No!" all four men said in unison.

Ted smiled. "Thank you for that." Then he turned serious. "Hear me out. What's to stop him from killing any of you right off the bat? You're a liability to him. Emotionally, he has nothing to lose with you. But Mike says he wants me to suffer before he kills me. He'll want to drag it out. If I go first, it buys us some time."

"He's right, you know," Starsky said.

Hutch sighed, "I know. I just don't like it."

"Well, I don't like it either," Starsky admitted, "but right now time is all we have on our side."

"You're risking a lot on Mike's profile," Carl said to Ted.

"Is he good at what he does?" Ted asked the detectives.

"He's the best," Hutch said without hesitation.

"Then that's good enough for me. I just wish we'd have thought to ask him one more question."

"What's that?" Hutch asked.

"Well, now that he has me, what's the safest way to play it -- saint or sinner?"

It was a good question. And Hutch didn't have a response. He looked at Starsky who gave him a "damned if I know" look. It was Huggy who offered an answer.

"When in doubt, be yourself."

"And," Carl added, "follow your own advice."

"What advice is that?' Ted asked.

"Keep the faith," Carl said.

Their captor returned ten minutes later, brandishing a lethal looking butcher's knife. He was surprised and delighted that they were offering Ted as the first victim. This was more than he had hoped for.

The knife sliced through the ropes like butter. He pulled Ted to his feet; keeping his arms pinned behind his back.

"If you gentlemen will excuse us for a few minutes, I promise there'll be a more public show later on."

Carl and Ted's eyes locked as the man pushed Ted into the hallway. Carl felt sick to his stomach.

"So who's next, partner?" Starsky asked. "Me or thee?"

"Sorry, pal. You and Carl have both had head injuries today. You're at the bottom of the list. I'll go next."

"Look," Huggy said, "I ain't tryin' to be no hero but as owner of this establishment, I might have an advantage out there. If I can get him to let me fix him a drink or make him a sandwich, I might be able to get to the panic button on the alarm. Besides, unless you guys can come up with a better answer real quick, I'm going to have to have a turn sooner or later. I'd just as soon get it over with before he gets himself too worked up."

"You're sure, Hug?" Starsky asked.

"Ya, I'm sure," he answered.

The silence in the room became deafening. They could just make out the sounds of the beating going on in the outer room. The four men listened helplessly. Each time it grew quiet, they hoped that it meant it was over but apparently their captor was just taking a break because within a few seconds it would start up again. They could occasionally hear both men's voices but couldn't make out what was being said.

At least, thought Carl, he's still alive. But he looked anything but that a few minutes later when he was shoved into the room. Hands bound again behind his back, he was unable to break his fall or move out of the way of the shards of broken glass that littered the storeroom floor. He hit hard and all four men winced in pain for him.

"You bastard," Carl swore. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Tell him what you did to me," the man demanded. Ted was concentrating desperately on controlling the pain. Every breath he took sent new waves of agony through his body. When he didn't respond to the request, the man pointed the gun at Carl.

"Sit up and tell him or I'll shoot him."

Carl watched as Ted closed his eyes and tried to harness what little strength he still had. Then slowly, he pulled himself into a kneeling position -- no easy feat with his arms bound behind his back but since he did the same thing on stage every evening, his body was somewhat accustomed to cooperating. Then he took another deep breath and shakily rose to his feet. Even bruised and bleeding, Carl thought, he showed an incredible amount of dignity. He'd never been more proud of his friend.

"Carl," Ted began, "this is Tony McKay." The name seemed vaguely familiar to Carl. Ted continued, "We met and spoke with him and his wife after the show when we were in Hanleyville."

Hanleyville. Suddenly everything came flooding back. "Evelyn McKay," Carl said.

"Who's Evelyn McKay?" Hutch asked.

"She was my wife," McKay spat out angrily, "until he got his hands on her."

Huggy, Starsky, and Hutch looked at Ted in surprise. This wasn't what they had expected to hear. Carl noticed their shocked expressions.

"It's not what you think," he said.

"Oh, it's exactly what you think," McKay said. "Tell them how you took her away from me."

"She came to see us the next day," Ted continued, softly. "She was afraid and didn't know where else to go."

"And she trusted Ted," Carl added.

"She was taken in by his lies," McKay said, angrily. "I tried to tell her it was all an act but she fell for it hook, line and sinker. And he was only too willing to lure her in."

"I only told her the truth," Ted said quietly.

"She left me because of you!" Enraged, McKay moved across the room and shoved the actor into the wall. Ted's knees buckled and he slid to the ground. It was only with great effort that he remained sitting upright.

"She left you because you beat her," Carl accused. "Just like you're beating Ted."

McKay turned angrily toward Carl and raised his gun.

"Go ahead," Huggy encouraged. "Blow him away. They got no business messing with your wife. Ain't nobody gonna tell me how to treat my old lady."

"They kidnapped her," McKay said turning to Huggy. "I came home one night and she was gone."

"That's really low, man," Huggy commiserated.

"By the time I found out what had happened -- who'd been involved -- the show had packed up and left town. It took me days to find out where she was and then the people at the shelter wouldn't let me see her."

"Look, McKay," Starsky said, "I know you're hurting but this isn't the way to get her back."

"She's not coming back. Last month she served with me with divorce papers. The last time I saw her was that night at the theatre."

"I'm sorry," Huggy said with as much compassion as he could fake.

"Don't apologize to him," Hutch said angrily.

"Look Hutch, you and Starsk are my friends but I would never have agreed to help you if I'd known what these guys were involved in."

Huggy studied their captor's face and hoped he was saying what McKay needed to hear. So far, it seemed to be working. Now if he could just get McKay to take him out by the bar -- without beating him to a pulp in the process -- he just might be able to get to the alarm. Timing, he thought, was everything.

"Lord," Huggy prayed silently, "if you're listening, tell me when."

As if in reply, McKay's stomach growled -- loudly.

"Hey, man," Huggy asked sympathetically, "when was the last time you ate?"

"It's been a while," McKay confessed. In fact, he couldn't remember the last meal he hadn't drunk from a bottle.

"Let me throw a burger on the grill," Huggy offered. "Won't take but a minute."

"And they called Judas a traitor," Carl said sarcastically.

"Shut up!" McKay ordered, "or you'll be the next one I use for batting practice."

"Batting practice?!" Carl said in shock, unable to hide his revulsion. "You used a bat on him?!"

McKay just smiled.

"Had that bat behind the bar for years," Huggy said, trying not to choke on the words. "Glad someone finally found a use for it."

He looked at Ted and fought hard to keep from losing his dinner. Huggy knew he had to keep playing the game. He had to get to the alarm and he had to get there soon.

"How about that burger, man?" Huggy asked.

"Ya," McKay said. "That sounds good. Let me go get the knife and I'll cut you loose. And then," he said, turning back to Carl, "I'm having you for dessert."

McKay disappeared into the hallway and everyone in the room exhaled.

"Nice job, Hug," Hutch said.

Seconds later, McKay reappeared with the butcher's knife. He sliced Huggy's ropes. Huggy stood up trying to rub some circulation back into his wrists. He slowly headed for the door.

McKay walked over to Carl and put the knife to his throat, putting just enough pressure on it to break the skin.

"I'll be back for you shortly," McKay sneered. Then he left the room with Huggy.

Ted let his back relax against the wall.

"Man, you gotta stop antagonizing him," he said to Carl.

"I'm just calling it like I see it," Carl replied.

"Your greatest gift," Ted smiled.

"And my greatest flaw," Carl conceded. Then he asked with concern, "How bad are you?"

Ted shifted his body; trying unsuccessfully to find a more comfortable sitting position. "Let's just say I've got some valuable experience to draw upon the next time I'm on stage."

"I hate to ask this," Starsky said, "but do you think you can get on your feet again?"

"If you need me to, I will," Ted said.

"We need you to," Starsky said, "if you can."

"What are you thinking?" Hutch asked.

"You have the cuffs," Starsky said, "and I have..."

"The key," Hutch finished, looking at his partner with admiration. "I love you, Starsk."

"Thanks, partner, but this is all gonna be for naught if McKay comes back too soon."

"That sounds like my cue," Ted said. He closed his eyes and tried to focus his energies. And he tried not to be afraid of the pain he knew each movement would cause. Carl held his breath as Ted struggled to his knees; willing all of his strength to his friend. Ted swayed unsteadily for a minute and then rose to his feet. But getting to his feet was only half the battle. Nothing seemed to be broken but all of his muscles were quivering like jelly. His knees felt like butter and he didn't know if he could walk the short distance to where Starsky was.

Captain Harold Dobey was alone in the squad room rummaging around on Starsky's desk. The detective usually had a candy bar stashed somewhere. Dobey was hoping a snack would settle the uneasiness he felt in his stomach. There was no reason to be concerned, he told himself. Starsky had called almost two hours ago to let him know they were calling it a night. They would have been back at the hotel in less than twenty minutes and were no doubt sleeping like babies by now.

Mike Pierce came through the squad room door just as Dobey pulled a candy cane from beneath a stack of files. The action set off Starsky's Christmas tree.

Dobey smiled apologetically to Mike, "Kids."

Mike looked at his watch. "It's 4 AM, do you know where your kids are?"

Dobey laughed. "They're back at the hotel, Mike. Our perp was a no-show."

Mike suddenly looked concerned and Dobey knew with an unpleasant certainty that the uneasy feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with hunger.

"They're not at the hotel," Mike said.

"What do you mean they're not at the hotel?" Dobey said, raising his voice slightly. "I talked to Starsky two hours ago and he told me they were calling it a night."

"I tried calling them at the hotel," Mike said, his brow knit with worry. "Benson and Langford said they weren't there. We've identified the stalker, Harold. He's not someone they should be messing with."

Dobey picked up the phone and dialed Hutch's number. "Maybe they went back to Venice Place."

He let the phone ring a half dozen times. Hutch was a light sleeper and surely would have picked it up had he been home. Dobey slapped down the phone and dialed Starsky's number.

"Come on, Starsky," Dobey pleaded, "Pick up."

He let the phone ring a good dozen times. With each ring, he prayed for the sound of Starsky's sleepy "ya?" But all he heard was the ringing of the phone. He finally gave up and dialed an interoffice number.

"Dispatch?" Dobey said gruffly, "This is Captain Dobey. Patch me through to Zebra Three."

As he waited for them to make the connection, he unwrapped the candy cane and began sucking on it nervously.

"Yes? I see. Thank you." He hung up the phone. "No response. What could have happened to them?"

He tossed the rest of the candy cane into the trashcan. "I'm going down to the Pits to see if Huggy knows where they went. Want to come along?"

"I'll fill you in on the way," Mike said, unable to hide the sense of urgency in his voice.

It was still raining when Dobey and Mike left Metro. The Christmas lights brightening the darkened streets only served to tighten the knot of apprehension in Dobey's stomach.

Mike filled him in on what they had learned about McKay. Using a variety of aliases, McKay had worked briefly at each of the hotels along the tour. Fortunately, one of the hotels routinely fingerprinted their employees. McKay's matched up to an old arrest for domestic abuse.

The people Mike had spoken to all described McKay the same way -- mean, and not just mean but "crazy mean".

"He's a loose cannon waiting to go off," Mike said. "Apparently his wife confided in Ted about the abuse. He got her to a shelter and she filed for divorce a few days later."

"And McKay blames Neeley for breaking up his marriage?" Dobey asked.

"Not exactly a godly thing to do from McKay's point of view," Mike responded.

The car phone rang and Dobey picked it up.

"Dobey here." He looked at Mike and said, "A silent alarm just went off at the Pits." He turned his attention back to the phone. "We're on our way. Send a squad car and an ambulance but have them go in quiet. We may have a hostage situation on our hands. Have them wait until I arrive. Our ETA is three minutes."

Mike rolled down the window and slapped the light on the roof as Dobey put the pedal to the metal.

Three minutes later, they pulled into the alley behind the Pits.

"Damn, looks like they're in trouble," Dobey said when he saw the Torino. He sent the squad car around to the front and then he and Mike, guns drawn, went to the back door. Dobey tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand.

"Who says there's no Santa Claus?" Mike said quietly.

Huggy stood nervously behind the bar. He was running out of witty repartee and was beginning to wonder if the panic button on the alarm had malfunctioned. He didn't know how much longer he could stall McKay.

"How about another beer?" Huggy asked as McKay set the empty mug back on the bar. Getting to the panic button had been easier than he'd thought. He'd made McKay a burger and fries; talking to him the whole time about how wrong Ted had been to steal Evelyn away from him. When Huggy suggested a beer to go with the burger, McKay had readily agreed. Once he was behind the bar, Huggy had no trouble tripping the alarm. But that had been five minutes ago. Never a cop around when you need one, Huggy thought.

McKay declined the offer of another beer. "It's time to get this show on the road."

McKay had retained his own gun and the butcher knife but Starsky and Hutch's weapons lay abandoned on a table across the room. If McKay would just leave him alone for a minute...

"Look, my man," Huggy said, "if you don't want anything else to eat, I'm gonna shut down the grill and fryer."

"Hmm?" McKay asked, clearly distracted by thoughts of returning to the supply room.

"I'm gonna go power down the grill," Huggy repeated.

"Oh, sure. Go ahead."

McKay pulled the knife from his belt and headed toward the supply room as Huggy pushed open the kitchen door. A hand grabbed Huggy and pulled him into the kitchen while another hand was slapped across his mouth. Huggy panicked for a minute until he realized Captain Dobey was manhandling him.

Dobey released the thin black man.

"What took you so long?" Huggy asked quietly.

"Is everyone okay?" Mike asked

Huggy eyed the stranger skeptically.

"Sorry," Dobey said, "Huggy Bear, Mike Pierce -- department profiler. Mike, Huggy Bear."

"Proprietor of this fine establishment," Huggy added.

"Has anyone been hurt?" Mike asked again, obviously concerned about the other men.

"Starsky was clobbered with a gun barrel earlier. He was out for a few but he seems okay," Huggy said, "Okay for Starsky anyway. Ted's been worked over once. He's not complaining but I think he's hurting pretty bad. McKay is heading back to work on Carl now."

"Thanks, Huggy," Dobey said. "Now get out back where it's safe."

"You don't have to tell me twice," said Huggy. He paused just long enough to turn off the grill and the fryer.

"Be careful," Huggy warned them. "The dude's pot is seriously cracked."

Then he ducked out the back door and into the safety of Starsky's Torino.

Ted leaned heavily on Hutch and Carl as they walked him back across the room. When the three men reached their destination, they made a half turn and eased Ted up against the wall.

"You okay?" Carl asked, observing his friend's pallor.

"Just don't let go," Ted said with a weak smile.

"We won't," Hutch promised, "but we need to get you back down on the floor. Can we go on three?"

Ted nodded.

"Okay," Hutch said, tightening his grip on the actor. "One -- two -- three."

They gently lowered Ted to the ground, holding on until he steadied himself, his back resting against the wall.

Starsky had just finished stashing the cut ropes when he heard McKay coming down the hallway.

"Hutch," Starsky said in warning.

The three men quickly sat down and put their arms behind their backs as if they were still tied up.

McKay entered the room; gun in one hand, knife in the other. Neeley was where he'd left him, sitting up but barely conscious. It pleased McKay to see him that way. He'd just finish off Anderson and then have another go at the man who had wrecked his marriage.

He glanced at the other men and paused. Something was wrong.

Starsky noticed it, too. They were sitting in the wrong chairs!

"Where's Huggy?" Starsky asked, hoping to distract him.

"What have you done with him?" Ted asked, drawing McKay's attention back to him.

McKay grinned evilly and then walked over to Carl.

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about what I'm going to do with your friend here."

"You're a big man, aren't you, McKay," Carl said, "hiding behind those weapons?"

McKay raised the gun and pointed it at Carl.

"I've had just about enough of you," McKay said. "It's time to watch you bleed."

"Drop it, McKay," demanded Dobey. "Police!"

"What?!" McKay screamed in shock, spinning around to see who was behind him.

In an instant, Starsky and Hutch were out of their chairs. Hutch grabbed the arm with the gun and raised it toward the ceiling just as McKay fired. The shot discharged harmlessly into the ceiling. Starsky had grabbed the other arm and twisted it behind McKay's back, causing just enough pain to make him drop the knife.

McKay was hysterical as Mike cuffed him and began reading him his rights.

As soon as McKay was secured, Carl was out of his chair and on his knees at Ted's side.

McKay was screaming vulgarities as Mike led him from the room.

Hutch handed the gun off to Dobey, who deposited it in an evidence bag.

"Nice of you to drop by, Captain," Hutch said.

"Well, you can thank Huggy Bear for alerting us to your situation."

Starsky retrieved the knife and gave it to Dobey.

"Where you worried about us?" Starsky asked.

"No, I wasn't worried about you," Dobey lied. "I was concerned about the men you were assigned to protect. Are you both okay?"

"Ted's in pretty bad shape," Carl said with concern. "I think we need to get him to a doctor."

"The paramedics are just out back," Dobey said. "Mike will send them in. I want to thank you both for what you did. It took a lot of guts."

"How about Huggy?" Hutch asked. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Dobey assured them. "He's waiting out back. You can swap stories at the emergency room."

Starsky was sitting on an exam table in the ER. His head hurt. He was tired and hungry but compared to what Ted had been through, he knew he shouldn't complain. He just wanted to go home.

He perked up when the door opened.

"Oh," he sighed as Hutch entered the exam room, "it's just you."

"Thanks a lot," Hutch said, feigning injury. "It's good to see you, too."

"Sorry," Starsky apologized. "I just hate hospitals. I want to go home."

"Here," Hutch said, pulling some Christmas cookies from his jacket pocket and giving them to Starsky. "This should make the wait a little easier."

"Where'd you get these?" Starsky asked, sinking his teeth into a gingerbread man.

"Stole them from the nurses' station," Hutch confessed.

"Did you steal some milk, too?" Starsky asked.

"You're hopeless," Hutch laughed.

"How are the others?"

"Huggy was released thirty minutes ago. Dobey gave him a lift home. Carl just got the all clear and he's waiting for some word on Ted."

The door opened and Starsky's doctor entered the room, reviewing the notes on his chart. He looked up and smiled to see Starsky munching on Christmas cookies.

"Good, aren't they?" he asked. "My family makes a batch for the staff every year."

"Sorry," Starsky mumbled with his mouth full. He gave Hutch a death glare but Hutch just smiled.

The doctor laughed. "Don't worry. They'll be happy to know you enjoyed them."

"So, how is he, Doctor?" Hutch asked.

"Well, Detective Starsky, I've got good news and bad news."

Starsky swallowed the cookie he was eating as he and Hutch exchanged concerned looks. Hutch took a step closer to his friend.

"What's the bad news, Doc?" Starsky asked.

The doctor examined the back of Starsky's head once again, making Starsky wince.

"The bad news is that McKay was an expert at inflicting pain. This lump on the back of your head is going to give you a bad headache for a few days. Over the counter pain killers should take the edge off but I'll write you a script in case you need something stronger."

"So, Doc," Starsky asked. "What's the good news?"

The doctor finished writing the prescription, tore it off the pad and gave it to Starsky.

"The good news is that McKay was an expert at inflicting pain without inflicting permanent damage."

"At least not physical damage," Starsky said, thinking of Evelyn McKay. Hutch nodded in agreement.

"Do you have any questions?" the doctor asked.

"Can I go?"

"Sure. Just take it easy for the next few days."

"Thanks, Doc," Starsky said.

"Thank you, Doctor," Hutch said, shaking hands with the doctor.

"You're welcome," he said as he left the room. "Happy holidays to you both!"

As the doctor exited, Carl entered. Starsky hopped down off the table. Hutch handed him his jacket.

"You okay?" Starsky asked as he put his jacket on.

"Ya," Carl said, pointing to the band-aid on his neck. "No stitches needed. How about you?"

"He's been sprung, too," Hutch said. "Where's Ted?"

"He's up on the psych ward," Carl said. He noticed the look of surprised concern on the detectives' faces and quickly explained, "It's okay. He's not a patient. He's just visiting."

An orderly was pushing Ted down the hall in a wheelchair. The pain medication had helped immensely but he was still a little unsteady on his feet. Like Starsky, the injuries McKay had inflicted were painful but would leave no permanent damage. The orderly brought the chair to a halt in front of McKay's doctor.

"Is it alright if I go in?" Ted asked.

The doctor nodded. "He's been sedated and he's in restraints." He paused to study the man in the wheelchair. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Ted considered his answer for just a moment. "Yes, I do. I need to do it for him and I need to do it for me."

Resigned, the doctor opened the door and the orderly wheeled Ted into the dimly lit room. He stopped the chair at the side of McKay's bed and put on the brakes.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he said.

"Thank you," Ted replied.

The orderly left, closing the door behind him, leaving Ted alone with McKay.

Through the fog of sedation, McKay had been vaguely aware of someone entering and exiting the room. Still, he had the uneasy sensation that he wasn't alone. His eyelids felt like they were weighted down with sand bags but he forced them open.

At first, seeing the face at his bedside, he thought he was dead. Then, with panic clutching his heart, he realized it was Neeley. He struggled against the restraints, afraid for his life. Why would they leave him alone and defenseless with the man he had tried to kill?

Ted was reaching out toward him and McKay tried desperately to pull away.

"It's alright," Ted said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

McKay was amazed at how gentle his touch was and how easily it calmed his pounding heart.

"I spoke with Evelyn a few minutes ago," Ted said. He immediately felt McKay try to recoil from his touch but he didn't withdraw his hand.

"She was concerned about you and wanted to know how you were."

McKay was having trouble focusing and his thoughts seemed wildly disjointed. He couldn't speak. He thought Ted had said that Evelyn had asked about him, but how was that possible? Ted had made Evelyn hate him. Maybe this was all a dream -- a nightmare.

Ted, somewhat shakily, got to his feet so that McKay could see him more clearly.

"Evelyn loves you, Tony," he said. "She always has. She always will. But she can't be with you until you get some help. The doctors here can help you, if you let them."

The door opened and McKay's doctor came into the room followed by Ted's orderly.

"I'm sorry to cut you short," the doctor said, "but he needs his rest and so do you."

"Alright," Ted said.

As the orderly helped him back into the wheelchair, Ted's hand slid over McKay's arm. McKay grabbed Ted's hand as it passed his, grabbed it so tightly that it made Ted wince.

The doctor started to intervene but Ted raised a hand to stop him.

"What is it, Tony?' he asked.

McKay wanted to curse at him; wanted to crush the hand that he held in his but he was too doped up to do either.

Ted pulled his hand away and then laid both of his on top of McKay's.

"I forgive you, Tony. Get well."

McKay wasn't ready to hear those words, wasn't ready yet to take responsibility for the pain he had inflicted. But somewhere down the road, after months of therapy, he would remember, forgive himself, and begin to heal.

Starsky dropped Ted and Carl off at their hotel and then dropped Hutch off at his apartment. Then he went home and crashed. Twelve hours later, Hutch picked him up and they went in to the station to file their reports.

Dobey called them into his office at the end of their shift and gave them the next two days off.

Surprised, but grateful, the detectives grabbed the opportunity for some R & R.

True to his word, Hutch took a delighted Starsky to the Christmas tree lot and bought the biggest evergreen they could find.

Ted and Carl had called their families right away to tell them they were safe.

Ted spent much of the next two days in bed recuperating but he refused to miss a performance or an opportunity to meet with the fans. Carl was amazed at his stamina.

By the day of Huggy's party, his pain had faded to an intense ache.

Ted was working his way around the tables at the Pits; refilling coffee cups, clearing dishes and talking to Huggy's guests.

"Hot behind you," warned Starsky. He was carrying a huge serving tray laden with platters of turkey, dressing and veggies. Huggy was serving things family style at his party. He thought it made things more "festive and familial."

"Let me give you a hand there," Ted said, setting down the coffee pot and taking some of the platters from Starsky's tray.

"Thanks," Starsky said. "Here you go, folks, hot from the oven."

There were murmurs of approval from those at the table.

"If you folks need anything else," Ted said, "just give a holler."

"Wanna help me bus the next table?" Starsky asked.

Huggy had had a steady stream of guests ever since he'd opened the doors. As quickly as a table opened up, it would be cleaned and filled again.

"Lead the way," Ted said, following Starsky to a momentarily deserted table. The two men began stacking dishes on the empty tray.

"So," Starsky said, "what do you think of Huggy's little party?"

"It's incredible," Ted replied. "This is what Christmas is all about."

"Ya," Starsky agreed. "It even brings Hutch out of his humbug."

"You know, Starsky," Ted said softly, "sometimes people hold on to their grief because it's all they have left. They're afraid to let go of it because they're afraid they'll be letting go of the person they loved."

Starsky nodded, then he studied Ted for a moment. "How about you? How are you doin'?"

"I feel so good that I don't even mind that I feel so bad," Ted said with a laugh as he wiped down the table.

"Sounds like a great hillbilly song to me," Starsky chuckled.

Ted laughed and asked, "Do you want me to take that to the kitchen for you?"

"No way," Starsky said as he hoisted the tray to his shoulder. "You don't carry nothin' heavier than that coffee pot. Doctor's orders."

"Yes, mom," Ted smiled. "Hey, before you go, do you know that sweet old lady sitting over there?"

Starsky looked across the room in the direction Ted had indicated. An older black lady flashed him a smile and waved. Starsky waved back.

"You talkin' about my girlfriend Hattie?" Starsky asked. "The one who keeps callin' you Jesus Boy?"

Ted blushed and smiled. "That's the one."

Hattie waved at him and he waved back.

"She keeps asking me to send Paul over. Do you know who Paul is?"

Now it was Starsky who blushed.

"Oh," he said with a grin, "that's me. Hutch told her once that my mom thought I looked like Paul Muni and now that's who she thinks I am."

"Why don't you go visit with the lady? One trip to the kitchen won't hurt me."

Ted started to reach for the tray but Carl snatched it from Starsky on his way past the table.

"Got it," he said, heading out to the kitchen.

"I give up," Ted laughed.

"Good," Starsky replied with a grin.

Ted reclaimed his coffee pot and Starsky headed over to visit with Hattie. He was almost to her table when Sarah ran in to him.

"Whoa," Starsky laughed. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Oh, Dave, I'm sorry," Sarah apologized. "I'm on my way up to sing. I guess I'm just a little nervous."

"You?!" Starsky said with a surprised look. "You'll knock 'em dead."

"Thanks," Sarah said. "I hope so."

"I know so," he encouraged.

"Paul," Hattie called, "you get your cute self over here!"

"Comin', darlin'," Starsky called back. Then he said to Sarah, "She thinks I'm cute."

"So do I," Sarah said with a wink as she dashed off toward the microphone.

Starsky smiled happily and headed over to Hattie.

Back in the supply room, Hutch and Huggy were helping Dobey into his Santa suit. Hutch was trying, unsuccessfully, to buckle Santa's belt.

"Captain," said Hutch, "can you inhale or something?"

"I am inhaling, Hutchinson," Dobey replied.

Huggy studied the situation carefully.

"Maybe," he suggested, "we should take out some of the padding."

Hutch cracked up. He was laughing so hard that he had tears rolling down his cheeks. Dobey was not amused.

"It's not funny, Hutchinson."

Huggy didn't get the joke. "Hutch, what's with you? Let us in on it, huh?"

"He's not..." Hutch began but then dissolved into laughter again.

"I'm not wearing any padding!" said a humiliated Dobey.

"Oh," Huggy grinned. "Sorry."

"Can you send him someplace?" Dobey asked as Hutch continued to chuckle.

""Sure," said Huggy. "Hutch, my man, as the song says why don't you go pass around the coffee and some pumpkin pie?"

Hutch nodded and headed out the door still laughing.

"Now," Huggy said, turning back to Dobey. "Let's see what we can do here."

Sarah was at the microphone singing.

Merry Christmas, darling
We're apart that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams
I'm Christmassing with you.7

Hutch felt a tug at his heart and glanced around the room, looking for Starsky.

"Have you seen Starsky?" he asked Ted who was talking with the guests at a table in the corner.

"Excuse me for a minute," Ted said to them. He walked over to Hutch.

"He's out there on the dance floor," Ted said.

"The dance floor?" Hutch asked.

Ted nodded toward the table by the bar. Starsky was dancing with Hattie.

"You know what they say," Ted said.

"Hmm? What's that?" Hutch asked.

Ted put his hand on Hutch's arm. "If you can't be with the one you love..."

He gave Hutch's arm a squeeze and then headed back to his table of guests. Hutch watched Starsky spinning a delighted Hattie around the floor.

"If you can't be with the one you love," thought Hutch, "then you love the one you're with."

The place broke into applause as Sarah finished her song.

Starsky took Hattie's hand and bent down to kiss it. "Merry Christmas, darlin'," he said.

She surprised him by enveloping him in a huge bear hug.

"Now boys and girls," Huggy hollered, "here comes Santa Claus!"

Starsky started singing "Jingle Bells" and everyone else joined in. Santa, looking slightly uncomfortable with his belt buckled, entered the room and began greeting the guests. He had something for everyone -- a small toy for the kids, some non-perishable food items for the adults.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" said Santa Dobey. "Merry Christmas!"

As Santa continued to make his way around the room, Carl grabbed the microphone. "Hey, Starsky, how about joining me for a song?"

Starsky broke away from Hattie. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then joined Carl by the mike. He picked up Hutch's guitar, scanning the room for his partner.

"S'alright?" he asked when his eyes met Hutch's.

"S'alright," said Hutch.

The four men had gotten together earlier in the day to practice a few tunes. Hutch and Ted (the "hillbilly boys" as Starsky called them) had agreed on a song right away but Carl and Starsky had experimented with a number of songs before settling on a great old blues tune called "Santa Claus Is Back In Town".

Starsky put the guitar strap over his shoulder and sat on a barstool. Carl sat down at the piano, pulling the microphone close to both of them.

"Ready?" Starsky asked.

Carl smiled. "Oh, man, I was born ready."

Starsky strummed a few chords and Carl played a few in response.

Well it's Christmas time pretty baby
The snow is fallin' on the ground
Yeah, it's Christmas time pretty baby
The snow is fallin' on the ground
Well you be a real good baby
"Cause Santa Claus is back in town

Got no sleigh with reindeer
No sack on my back
You gonna see me comin'
In a big black Cadillac.8

It was a great song and they had a lot of fun with it. The audience did too. Santa Dobey and Huggy had joined Hutch.

"Where'd Starsky learn to sing like that?" Huggy asked.

Hutch smiled. "He's good, isn't he?"

"Good?" Dobey said, beaming with pride. "My boy's a natural!"

Hutch, just barely, resisted the impulse to give the older man a hug. For all his gruffness, Dobey was a man with a big heart. He didn't show it often, but both Starsky and Hutch knew that he loved them like sons. And, like sons, they sometimes took that love for granted.

"What about you, Hutchinson?" the captain said. "I hope we're going to hear from you tonight."

"Ted and I have a number coming up in a little while, Captain."

"Good. I'll look forward to it," Dobey said, tugging on the Santa suit. "Huggy, can we get me out of this thing?"

"We can try," Huggy said, rolling his eyes at Hutch.

Hutch coughed to cover a chuckle. "See you in a few."

The two men headed off in the direction of the supply room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that was Dave Starsky!" Carl said. "Let's give him another hand!"

The room was filled with applause. Starsky set Hutch's guitar back on the stand, took a quick bow and then joined Hutch.

"How'd I do?" he asked.

"You should have seen Dobey! He was so proud I thought he was gonna bust right out of that Santa suit."

"Really?" Starsky asked.

"Really," Hutch replied. "You did great, Gordo."

"Thanks, Blintz."

Carl waited until the applause died down and then he invited his fellow cast members to join him for a song.

As they gathered around him, Carl spoke to the audience, "We want to thank you for inviting us to share this night with you. We have a special song that we'd like to sing for you. My grandmother always told me that life is hard but God is good. Your presence here tonight is a gift to all of us. This song is our gift to you."

Ted had picked up his guitar and was sitting on the barstool Starsky had previously occupied. Another cast member was at the piano. Sarah and the others gathered around Carl to sing back up.

This one, that one, each one
Is God's gift to the world
We are, they are, each one
Is God's gift to the world.

There are no extra people
In a mansion or a ghetto
From where you start your journey
Anywhere you go
So look across the ocean
See those on distant corners
Or see the one beside you
Look in their eyes long enough
And you will know

This one, that one, each one
Is God's gift to the world9

Starsky and Hutch had grabbed coffee pots and were making their way around the room, refilling cups.

"Could I have some de-caf, please?" a man asked Hutch.

Hutch smiled. Some things never changed. "I'm regular," he told the man and then pointed to Starsky. "He's de-caf."

They were headed back to the kitchen to refill the coffee pots when Dobey and Huggy reappeared.

"Starsky, you were great up there, son!" Dobey said, breathing much easier in his own clothes.

"Thanks, Cap'n," Starsky said with a smile. "How about helpin' me serve some pumpkin pie? I'll let you be the whipped cream man."

Dobey laughed. "Now that sounds like an offer I can't refuse."

"Oh, Starsk," Hutch said. He handed his empty coffee pot to his partner. "Thanks."

Huggy slipped behind the bar and poured himself a drink.

"So did you have any trouble getting Dobey out of that suit?" Hutch asked with a smile.

Huggy sighed. "I ain't never gonna get my deposit back. I'm gonna have to hock my granny's jewels to pay for it."

"How much are they getting for Santa suits these days?" Hutch asked.

"That particular piece of red flannel runs about $150."

Hutch gave a long whistle.

"Ya," Huggy said. "Tell me about it."

Hutch took out his wallet and put three fifty dollar bills on the bar. He slid the money across to Huggy.

"What's that?" Huggy asked.

"Buy the suit," Hutch said. "We'll make sure Santa loses ten pounds before he has to wear it again."

Huggy shook his head and pushed the money back toward Hutch. "I appreciate the thought, Hutch, but you and Starsky have already given..."

Hutch pushed the money back. "Just say thank you, Huggy."

"Thank you Huggy," Huggy said with a smile. "And thank you, Hutch. You're all right, no matter what Starsky says."

Hutch smiled.

The Superstar choir had finished their song and had scattered around the room to talk with the guests. Ted came up to the bar, guitar slung across his back.

"Can I get a glass of water, please, Huggy?"

"Sure thing."

"So Hutch, are you ready for a turn at the mike?" Ted asked.

"I am if you are."

Huggy handed a glass of water to Ted who took a generous swallow.

"Thanks, Hug."

"You're welcome," Huggy said. "That was a great song, my brother."

"Thanks," Ted said and then turned to Hutch. "Shall we?"

Hutch followed him over to the mike. He studied the actor for a moment before asking, "Do you believe that?"

"Believe what?" Ted asked, pulling another barstool over for Hutch.

"That song you were just singing," Hutch said thoughtfully as he picked up his guitar. "And I mean really believe it, not just as a song, but in your heart?"

"Do you mean do I believe that each of us is God's gift to the world?" Ted positioned the microphone between them. "Yes, I do." He smiled at Hutch. "In my heart."

Hutch wasn't being judgmental and Ted wasn't taking it that way. In fact, Ted was used to having people question him about what he believed. It went with the territory.

Hutch climbed onto the barstool. "Even McKay?"

"Especially McKay," Ted said as he slid his guitar around to the front and seated himself on the other stool. "Now what about you?"

Hutch looked at him questioningly.

"This song we're about to sing isn't just a song, it's a prayer. It has to come from your heart."

For just a minute, Hutch thought he heard his grandfather's voice. "And when you sing, Kenny, it's like praying twice."

Ted turned on the mike. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Ken Hutchinson, sharing a prayer from his heart."

The audience applauded and Hutch smiled as he heard Starsky whistling and cheering him on. Then he closed his eyes, shutting out the room, and let the song flow from his heart.

Hey, Lord, won't trouble never end
Tell me how you're still my friend
I got such a heavy load
When will I reach that glory road?

One more mountain to climb
One more river to cross
I've come such a long, long way and still
I've got a long way to go
Weary all of the time
I've been tumbled and tossed
There's always one more mountain to climb
And one more river to cross.

Hutch opened his eyes. Ted smiled at him and then joined in, harmonizing with Hutch.

Hey, Lord, I'm nothin' but a man
I try to do the best I can
Sometimes the road is hard to see
Please, Lord, won't you walk along with me?

One more mountain to climb
One more river to cross
I've come such a long, long way and still
I've got a long way to go
Weary all of the time
I've been tumbled and tossed
There's always one more mountain to climb
And one more river to cross10

It was almost dawn when the last guest headed back for the street. Huggy, Dobey, Starsky, Hutch, Carl and Ted had sent the rest of the volunteers home. They finished cleaning up an hour later.

Huggy brought a tray of juice out to the table where they'd all gathered.

"What's this?" Starsky asked.

"Fresh squeezed orange juice," Huggy said.

"It's healthy, Starsky, you won't like it," Hutch teased.

"Ha, ha," Starsky said.

They all helped themselves to a glass as Huggy sat down at the table.

Dobey drained his glass quickly and got to his feet. "I hate to drink and run," he said, "but I've got an 8 AM meeting."

"No rest for the wicked, eh, Cap'n?" Starsky teased.

Dobey ignored him. "Huggy, what can I say? This is a great service you provide for the community."

"Thanks, Captain," Huggy said. "And thanks for coming to my rescue the other day."

Dobey nodded and then shook hands with the actors. "Carl. Ted. It's been a pleasure getting to know you both."

"Thanks for all your help, Captain," Carl said.

"And thank Mike for us, too," Ted added.

"Will do," Dobey said. "Starsky. Hutchinson. Edith and I are expecting you for dinner at eight."

"We'll be there, Captain," Hutch said.

"Oh, and Starsky," Dobey said.

"Yes, sir?" Starsky replied.

"Bells and antlers are optional."

Starsky smiled.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Dobey said.

They all returned the greeting and then Dobey left through the kitchen.

"Oh-oh," said Huggy.

"What?" Hutch asked.

"Isn't this the part where we all got in to trouble last time?"

The men laughed.

"So are you all headed home for Christmas?" Hutch asked.

Carl nodded. "We've got a matinee this afternoon and our final performance is tonight then we're all on our way home."

"I hate to break up this old gang of mine," Huggy said, "but I've got a lunch crowd due in a few hours and I need some shut eye."

Carl raised his juice glass in a toast, "Well, we'll always have the Pits. Here's to Huggy and his incredible pre-Christmas party."

Ted raised his glass. "Here's to the finest of Bay City's finest. Thanks for all you've done for us."

"And," added Huggy, raising his glass, "for all you keep on doing for me."

"To new friends," Starsky toasted.

"And to old friends," Hutch added.

They all clinked glasses.

"God bless us," Ted began.

"Everyone!" they finished in unison.

It was almost midnight Christmas Eve when Starsky pulled the Torino to a stop in front of Hutch's place.

Mike Pierce and his wife Marie had joined them at the Dobeys' for Christmas Eve dinner. Edith Dobey, like always, had made them a wonderful meal. Starsky and Hutch had shot some baskets with Dobey's son Cal and read "A Visit From St. Nicholas" to his little daughter Rosie. All in all, it had been a pleasant evening filled with good food, good friends, and good times.

"Want to come in for a while?" Hutch asked.

"Sure," Starsky replied.

As they entered the apartment, Hutch plugged in the tree. Its lights cast a soft, warm glow over the living room.

"Take off your jacket and stay a while," Hutch invited. "Do you want a beer?"

"Ya," said Starsky, tossing his jacket on the sofa and then plopping down beside it. He put his feet up on the coffee table. "A beer sounds great."

"That was some meal Edith fixed for us, wasn't it?" Hutch said as he opened the refrigerator. He pulled out two bottles of beer and popped the tops off.

"Ya," Starsky smiled. "No wonder Dobey can't fit in his Santa suit."

"Right," Hutch said. He handed Starsky a beer and then sat down on the sofa. It felt good to relax. He was exhausted.

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

The clock struck midnight and the room lapsed back into momentary silence.

"Hutch," Starsky said softly.

"Hmm?" Hutch murmured, wishing Starsky hadn't disrupted the quiet.

"It's Christmas," Starsky observed.

"Mmm," Hutch acknowledged.

They were quiet for a few more minutes, and then Starsky asked, "Do you wanna do something?"

Hutch took a sip of his beer, "I'm doing it, Starsk."

"Oh," Starsky said with a twinge of disappointment.

Hutch sighed. He really didn't want to move from the spot he was in but Starsky sounded so pathetic. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know," Starsky said, taking a drink of his beer. "Do you wanna go to church or something?"

Hutch looked at him as if he'd just suggested they knock over a liquor store. "You're joking, right?"

"No," Starsky said, a bit defensively. "I just thought..."

"Well, don't," Hutch said.

Starsky sat quietly nursing his beer and his hurt feelings. Finally, more to himself than to Hutch, he said, "I bet Ted and Carl are going to church today."

"Well then maybe you should go spend Christmas with them," Hutch said sharply.

"I don't wanna spend Christmas with them. I wanna spend Christmas with you," Starsky said, although at the moment he wasn't sure why. "Look," he said sounding more than a little irritated, "just forget I brought it up, okay?"

"Okay!" Hutch said shortly.

The room was silent again but there was no longer anything comfortable about it. Still, Starsky hadn't left and Hutch hadn't thrown him out.

"I'm gonna get another beer," Hutch said as he stood up, "do you want one?"

"You haven't finished the one you got," Starsky observed.

Hutch hadn't really wanted another beer. He'd just been looking for an excuse to break the awkward silence. He quickly finished his beer and gave his partner an "are you happy now" look.

"Do you want one or not?" he asked.

"No, thanks. But, since you're up," Starsky asked quietly, "do you think I could have Ollie for a while?"

Hutch felt his annoyance melt away. "Sure."

He set his empty beer bottle on the table and went to retrieve the bear. He came back and handed him to Starsky.

"Thanks," Starsky said, taking the bear. He sat Ollie in his lap and wrapped his arms around him, then looked up at his friend.

"Hutch?"

"Ya, Starsk?"

"I'm sorry."

Hutch sat down on the coffee table, facing his friend. "I'm sorry, too, partner. Maybe we should just agree to disagree about Christmas."

"I can't do that, Hutch," Starsky said, hoping that he wasn't precipitating another fight.

Hutch sighed. "I put up that damn tree for you, Starsk. I just don't know what else you want from me."

Starsky knew that Hutch didn't get it, knew that he didn't understand, and knew that he had to try to explain.

"Hutch, I don't want it from you," he said, "I want it for you."

He reached over to his jacket and pulled a small Christmas package from the pocket. He thought about it carefully for a minute and then offered it to Hutch.

"Starsk," Hutch said sounding genuinely distressed. "I thought we weren't buying each other gifts this year?"

They had agreed instead to donate money to Huggy's Christmas party.

"I didn't buy it," Starsky said.

"Oh, great, make me look bad," Hutch teased. "I'm sorry, pal. I don't have anything for you."

"S'okay," Starsky smiled. "Go ahead. Open it."

"Okay," Hutch said. He took the package from Starsky and tore off the paper, revealing a small box. He opened the lid and picked up the business card that was inside.

He read, "Bay City Bereavement Group."

Hutch was confused. He looked at Starsky questioningly.

"I joined a support group," Starsky said.

"That's great, Starsky," Hutch said. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Starsky said.

"But how..." Hutch started to ask.

"But how is that a gift for you?" Starsky finished for him.

Hutch nodded and waited for Starsky to continue.

Well, Starsky thought, here goes nothing. "I thought," he suggested, "maybe you would go with me?"

Hutch smiled in relief. He'd been picking up some strange vibes from Starsky. He wasn't sure why his friend was so nervous.

"Of course, I'll go with you, Starsk," he said. "You know I'll do anything I can to help you."

"Thanks, partner," Starsky said. "I couldn't have gotten through the last few months without you. But, well, I thought you might want to go for you."

"For me?" Hutch said. Suddenly, he knew where Starsky was going with this. No wonder he'd been so nervous. Hutch quickly got to his feet and headed into the kitchen.

"Did you want another beer?" he asked.

"That excuse wasn't very original the first time you used it," Starsky said gently. "You can't keep running away, Hutch."

"I'm not running away," Hutch said defensively. "I'm getting a beer."

He'd built a wall around that part of his heart years ago when his grandfather had died and now his best friend was threatening to tear that wall down, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

Hutch opened the refrigerator door and stuck his head inside. He didn't want Starsky to see the look of sheer panic on his face.

"You didn't cry when it happened, did you?" Starsky asked gently.

Hutch froze where he was -- head stuck inside the refrigerator. There was nowhere else to hide.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hutch said into the refrigerator.

"When your grandfather died," Starsky said compassionately, "your mom said you didn't cry."

His mom? Hutch felt violated and his temper began to flare. He latched on to it like a drowning man to a life preserver. Anger, at least, was an emotion he felt comfortable with. He slowly pulled his head out of the refrigerator without retrieving a beer.

"You called my mother?!" he fumed at the wall, not trusting himself yet to be seen by his partner. "What in the hell gives you the right to go prying into my life?! Starsky, I swear I could..."

"What?" Starsky asked quietly, "Beat the hell out of me? Throw me out the front door? Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Hutch slammed the refrigerator door and spun around toward Starsky intending to do just that but the sight of his partner stopped him dead in his tracks.

Starsky was on his feet holding Ollie out to Hutch with both arms. "Just don't hit me too hard, 'kay?"

"Aw, Starsk," Hutch sighed as he walked over to him.

Hutch took Ollie and sank down on the couch. Starsky sat down on the coffee table. He picked up his beer from the floor and offered it to Hutch. Hutch took it and took a long drink.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Starsky asked gently.

Hutch gave him a small smile. "Do I have a choice?"

"You can still hit me," Starsky offered with a smile.

"Don't tempt me," Hutch chuckled. He took another swallow of Starsky's beer before admitting quietly, "I'm scared, Starsk."

"I know," Starsky said. "But -- and correct me if I'm wrong -- I think you're less scared now than you were a few minutes ago when you were hidin' in the fridge."

"I wasn't hiding," Hutch corrected. "I was getting a beer."

But what Starsky had said was true. Hutch wasn't sure how it had happened but the panic that had paralyzed him just a few minutes earlier had vanished. He looked up from his beer and returned his friend's steady gaze. It felt like Starsky was looking right into his soul but suddenly he didn't feel like he had to hide. He wasn't sure why he'd never shared any of this with Starsky before.

"I did cry," Hutch said, "when my mom first told me. Then my father came in the room and told me to stop. He said that men didn't cry."

"But you weren't a man, Hutch. You were just a kid -- a scared, hurt kid."

"He told me that my grandfather would have been ashamed of me for acting like a baby." Starsky could hear the bitterness creeping into Hutch's voice.

"Good thing he didn't see me at the hotel," Starsky grinned, trying to take a bit of the edge off.

Hutch smiled. "Oh, ya. He'd have loved tearing into you."

"Well," Starsky said, "better me than you."

"I wanted to cry so many times, Starsk," Hutch continued, "but I didn't want my grandfather to be ashamed of me or my father to be disappointed in me. So I just kept burying my feelings deeper and deeper. And then I started being afraid of the things that reminded me of him."

"Like celebrating Christmas," Starsky said quietly.

"Ya, like celebrating Christmas," Hutch admitted. "You'd have gotten along great with him by the way."

Starsky smiled. Hutch took another swallow of his beer and paused for a moment before continuing.

"It was the first time I'd lost someone close to me. I'd never really thought about dying before -- about losing my family or my friends. I'd never been that scared before."

"Ya," Starsky said, remembering the overwhelming emotions he'd drowned in after his dad had died and the fears that Terry's recent death had given birth to -- especially the fear of losing Hutch.

Starsky nudged the side of Hutch's knee with his own. "So will you go with me?"

Hutch hesitated. It was one thing to sit in his own living room talking with Starsky. It was quite another to talk about his feelings in public with people he didn't know. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Promise?" Starsky asked.

"Promise," Hutch said, playfully tossing Ollie at Starsky.

Starsky caught the bear and studied him for a second.

"What's that?" Starsky asked the bear. He held Ollie up to his ear. "Oh, I forgot."

Hutch was watching all of this in amused silence. Starsky sat the bear down beside him on the coffee table.

"Ollie says best friends don't have to promise."

"Oh," Hutch smiled.

"You did good tonight, Hutch."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you. It was a very thoughtful present, Starsk. Thank you." He finished Starsky's beer and set the empty bottle on the floor. "So is there some non-material something I can give you for Christmas?"

Starsky thought for a minute and came up with something. Hutch could feel the nervous energy again. He leaned back on the couch and rolled his eyes heavenwards.

"Oh, God," Hutch sighed, "Please don't let me be sorry I asked."

"You know," Starsky said, "It's funny you should mention God. That night at the hotel, Ted asked if he could pray with me. I gotta tell you, Hutch, the man knows his stuff."

Hutch smiled. "Sarah told me he gets teased a lot about how much he prays."

"So," Starsky said, "Do you think maybe we...?"

Hutch was giving him that "liquor store" look again.

"Us?" Hutch asked in disbelief.

"Ya. Do you see anybody else in the room?" Starsky responded.

"Aw, look, Starsk. You know I'd do anything in the world for you."

"It's okay," Starsky smiled gently. "Forget I asked."

"I don't want you to think I don't pray for you, buddy. I do," Hutch said.

"I know," Starsky said. "I've prayed for you, too. I just thought it would be nice..."

"I don't know, Starsk," Hutch hesitated. "Praying is kind of an intimate, personal thing."

"Ya," Starsky said. "But best friends do intimate, personal things."

"Oh, boy," Hutch said, wiping his face with his hands as he sat up straight on the edge of the couch. "Okay."

"Really?" Starsky said in surprised delight.

"Really," Hutch said.

Starsky held out his hands to Hutch who looked at him skeptically. "Take my hands," Starsky invited. When Hutch still hesitated, Starsky grinned, "Come on. I won't bite."

Hutch smiled as he put his hands in Starsky's and was comforted by the warm strength of his friend's grip. Starsky closed his eyes and then, a second later, opened one to check on Hutch who was still watching with both eyes open.

"You're supposed to close your eyes," Starsky instructed.

"Oh," Hutch said with a small grin. "Sorry. I'm new at this."

"S'okay," Starsky said. Hutch closed his eyes and so did Starsky.

"Starsk?" Hutch said, opening his eyes again.

Starsky opened his, too. "What?"

"You're never going to want to buy presents again, are you?"

Starsky knocked his knee into Hutch's again. "Are we going to do this or not?" he asked.

"Okay," said Hutch closing his eyes. Starsky closed his as well. They were both silent for a minute.

"You want I should go first?" Starsky asked.

Hutch considered for a minute. He had no idea what he was going to say. On one hand, if he let Starsky go first he'd have more time to think of something. On the other hand, if Starsky turned out to be really good at this, he might be a tough act to follow. He finally opted to let Starsky go first.

"Well, it was your idea," Hutch said.

"'Kay," Starsky said. Suddenly he had butterflies the size of chicken hawks. He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. He knew Hutch was nervous too but he really wanted to do this. "Dear God, please bless my friend Hutch with a happy heart this Christmas. Help him know how proud his grandfather would be of him tonight and help his father appreciate the good man his son is. Help him to know it's okay to be scared -- that we're all afraid sometimes of losing the people we love. Help him know that I ain't goin' nowhere." He gently tightened his grip on Hutch's hands. "Help him forgive me for the times I pushed too hard, for the times I don't hear what he's trying to tell me and -- here's the big one -- help him forgive me for all the times I drive him crazy."

Hutch smiled as Starsky continued. "Thank you for the gift of my best friend Ken Hutchinson. I don't know if he realizes how much I depend on his strength, his level- headedness, and his friendship. Keep him safe and away from the bad guys. Amen."

"Amen," Hutch echoed.

"Your turn," Starsky said.

"Okay," Hutch said. He took a deep breath as he collected his thoughts. And then he remembered what Ted had told him the day before. It's a prayer. It has to come from your heart. "Hey, Lord. He's quite a piece of work, isn't he?" Hutch said with admiration. "If the roles had been reversed a little while ago and he had treated me the way I treated him, I'd have left but not Starsky. When he latches on to something, he doesn't let go. Lucky for me, he latched on to me for his best friend. The same thing with Christmas. I know there have been times this Christmas when it's hurt as deeply as it's blessed and yet he still embraces it with everything he has. Help me be a friend who can share his childlike enthusiasm and joy for the holidays. Help him feel Terry's love close to his heart." He felt Starsky's hands tighten in his. "Help him forgive me for the times I haven't been the friend I should have been, for the times I was oblivious to his pain, for the times I should have been there for him and wasn't and -- most of all -- for all the times I drive him crazy."

Starsky smiled as Hutch finished. "Thank you for the gift of David Michael Starsky and the gift of our friendship which I treasure above everything else in my life. Watch over him and protect him always. Amen."

"Amen," Starsky said, as they both opened their eyes. "Thanks."

Just then the phone rang, making both men jump. They laughed.

Hutch gave Starsky's hands a final squeeze before heading out to the kitchen to pick up the phone.

"Maybe it's God," Starsky joked, "calling us back."

"Well, if it is," Hutch laughed, "you can talk to him." He picked up the phone. "Hutchinson... Captain, what are you still doing up?" Hutch listened to the answer and then passed the information along to Starsky. "He's putting a dollhouse together for Rosie."

Starsky got up and came into the kitchen. "Ask him if he wants us to come over and help."

Hutch repeated the offer to Dobey. "You're sure? We wouldn't mind... no, no, we're off until four. We've got the late shift... umm... ya, I guess we could do that. Hold on a minute. I'll let you ask him yourself."

Hutch put his hand over the receiver and held the phone out to his partner. "Dobey wants to ask you something. Go ahead and say yes."

"He doesn't want us to come in to work early does he?" Starsky asked, his voice heavy with dread. "Hutch, it's Christmas."

"Just say yes," Hutch said, handing him the phone. He grinned at his unhappy partner. "Come on, Starsky. It's Christmas."

Starsky grudgingly took the phone, trying to cover the disappointment in his voice. "Merry Christmas, Cap'n. What can we do for you?"

"Merry Christmas yourself, Starsky," Dobey said. Starsky realized immediately that he wasn't using his office voice. "Edith, Cal, and Rosie and I wanted to know if you and Hutch would like to join us for our church service this morning."

"Really?" Starsky asked, looking at Hutch in surprise.

"Yes, really," Dobey responded.

But Starsky had actually been asking the question of Hutch. Hutch smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He was rewarded with Starsky's face lighting up like his Christmas tree.

"Well," Dobey asked, "do you think you'll be joining us?"

"Ya," Starsky grinned. "It looks like we will. What time's the service?"

"Ten o'clock," Dobey said. "Why don't you be at my house around nine? We'll need to leave early to get a good seat."

"Okay," Starsky said. "Nine o'clock. It's a date."

"And don't be late," Dobey warned.

"We won't," Starsky promised. "Goodnight, Cap."

"Goodnight, Starsky. And say goodnight to that partner of yours."

Starsky hung up the phone. "Dobey said goodnight."

"We should probably be saying goodnight, too," Hutch said.

"Ya. Dobey wants us at his place at nine."

"Then I'll pick you up at 8:30," Hutch said.

Starsky studied his partner for a minute. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Aw, Starsk," Hutch said, "if I let you drive, we'll be late."

Starsky smiled. "You know what I mean. Are you sure you wanna go to church?"

"No," Hutch admitted frankly, "but I think it's time for me to try. Besides, if it gets scary, you'll be right there with me."

"All the way," Starsky promised. "Me and thee."

Hutch smiled and laid his hand on Starsky's heart.

"Merry Christmas, Starsky."

Starsky put one hand on top of Hutch's and then he put the other around Hutch's neck and wrestled him into a huge bear hug.

"Merry Christmas, Hutch."

Through the years we all will be together if the Lord allows
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.11