This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit, and is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders of the rights to Starsky and Hutch.

Many thanks to Starsky’s Strut, great writer, beta reader, and a wonderful friend!


“H-help… Help me get… to my car, Hutch… wanna die in… in my car.”

At first Hutch had refused to acknowledge the ultimate meaning of his partner’s words. After a whole day of ineffective searching for the antidote that could save Starsky’s life, the taller detective was emotionally and physically exhausted. His brain was wrapped by a fog of hopelessness and fear, and at that moment, an excerpt of a book he had read years ago crossed his mind. In that book the main character was the last man in a world inhabited by frightening, non-human creatures. That man had no one to talk to, no one to love. Remembering this story, Hutch realized that Starsky was going to die, and soon he’d feel as alone as the character in that book.

“Listen, buddy… Let’s wait here, huh?” Hutch advised gently “Ambulance is on its way. They’ll take you to the hospital and-”

“In t-the hospital… I’m gonna die, Blondie...” Starsky cut him off. “I’ll die surrounded by nurses and docs f-for which I’d be just one more patient… No Hutch. I don’t wanna go this way; lying in a g-goddamned hospital bed and being poked and prodded to no use…I wanna leave with you, sitting in my car… looking at the sea… Can you humor me one last time… p-please?” Starsky’s life was ebbing away from him. His determination though, seemed stronger than ever.

“Sure Starsk… Sure.” Hutch answered after just a moment of hesitation. He then picked Starsky in his arms, carefully carrying him downstairs and placed him in the Torino. The limp body of his partner felt heavy, but Hutch’s strength didn’t waver. They left Bellamy’s body on the rooftop. Hutch knew that he should’ve remained there and waited for an ambulance to take Starsky to the hospital, and for the black and white and the coroner that was also on its way.

But he knew also that if Starsky wanted to depart from this life with him by his side, sitting in his beloved Torino and looking at the sea, that’s how it was going to be.

The ride to the beach was made in silence. Hutch drove one-handed; his free arm surrounding Starsky’s shoulders as the brunet’s head rested on his chest. By then, Starsky’s breathing was just a faint wheezing and his face looked very pale, almost grey, as if death itself had covered it with a faded, drab veil before claiming its grim prize. Thankfully the pain that had been ravaging Starsky’s insides for hours seemed to have lessened.

Once parked by the seashore, Hutch turned off the car’s engine. The blond detective remained with his arm surrounding Starsky’s shoulders and basking in the warmth of his partner’s body against his. After more than twenty hours of search it felt strange to be there, doing nothing, giving up and just waiting for death to come. And though on a rational level he knew that they had done all they could to find the antidote, this surrender, this giving up, still seemed to Hutch more wrong than anything he had ever done.

“The sea looks beautiful.” He said, wondering if Starsky was able to hear him. His mind drifted to happier times spent with his partner in that same beach, jogging with Starsky along the shoreline, playing volleyball with him and a few of the mutual friends they had shared over the years or having lunch with two girls in the double dates they occasionally had.

“I wish… I wish I could be here to s-see the sunrise.” Starsky said then. He had woken up from his poisoned slumber while still leaning against Hutch. He now was staring, without blinking, at the full moon.

“Starsky, buddy… I really think I should take you to the hospital now.” Hutch tried once more. The voice in the back of his mind was still screaming at him to not give up.

“W-what for? ...” Starsky answered weakly. He was about to say something else when a violent spam of pain exploded in his guts, spreading through his whole body. The brunet curled up, tightly clenching the front of Hutch’s shirt in his hands, holding his breath while the blond one did his best to soothe him and help him ride out the pain.

The bout of agony seemed to last forever. Eventually, Starsky loosened his grasp on Hutch’s shirt as his body went limp again. Hutch looked at him, expecting to see the rise and fall of his chest. However, he saw nothing.

“Starsky?...Starsk, partner?...STARSKY!!” Hutch panicked. He reached out his hand to look for a pulse in Starsky’s neck. For his relief he found it, though weak and fast. Then Starsky opened his eyes wide, convulsively inhaling in a lungful of air, once more reaching out to clutch Hutch’s shirt… He was struggling to breathe, to hold onto life, but death was quickly gaining the upper hand. This wasn’t going to be the sweet departure he had imagined.

“Okay Starsky. Enough is enough!” Hutch said determinedly turning on the Torino’s engine. “I’ve tried to make things your way, but now we’re going to the hospital and that’s it!”

Hutch made to Memorial in record time. Once there, Starsky was quickly rushed into the emergency room where he saw his partner for which both men thought had to be the last time. Soon afterwards, a strong dose of chemically induced darkness engulfed him.

From then on, and until he awoke next day, still very sick, but already in his way back to recovery, he remained unaware of anything or anybody around him. Until days later Starsky didn’t get to know all the details about Hutch’s race against time and about how had he managed to beat the odds being able to finally find the lifesaving antidote.

However, for the blond one, the reward had been worth the effort, because neither next day, nor any time soon, was he going to feel like the last man on earth.