But Starsky had forgiven because he'd seen how helpless Hutch had been, both to explain himself, and to try to make it up somehow. That first intense flare of pain and perfidy had eventually faded enough to reveal Hutch was hurting nearly as much as Starsky was. And with both of them swearing it wouldn't happen again, Starsky had forgiven and they had moved on.

And now Hutch had gone and done it again... while Starsky was in the hospital. Had maybe been doing it all along with Angie, laughing behind Starsky's back at fooling him. How low could a guy get?

Hutch couldn't have meant it, not a single word he'd said after Kira. With those sad eyes and nervous hands, he'd fooled Starsky into forgiving him, but it hadn't been real. And if that hadn't, what else hadn't been over the years? His tolerance of Starsky's different tastes and weaknesses? His concern when Starsky was injured?

The blood drained from Starsky's face. Oh, God, had Hutch taken care of him these last few months out of guilt?

His chest felt like it was on fire and Starsky curled up on his side, trying to relieve some of the agony. It couldn't be. Hutch had held him in the alley just that morning, breathing with him, comforting him, saving him. Starsky knew what he'd felt; there was no way that could all be an act.

But then, he'd known he could trust Hutch, too. The violation of that basic fact threw everything else he believed into doubt. And care, even honest, concerned care could come from a lot of motives and a lot of different kinds of people, including those who helped you up with one hand and stole your lady with the other. Starsky loved and trusted unconditionally, and wouldn't have believed Hutch might be any different.