White Wolf

--- Somewhere in Germany, 1944.

The train lurched, throwing the passengers against each other. Starsky jerked awake for a moment, then let himself drift back into his waking dream. It was only another whistle stop, not the end of the line.

He covered the horrible sights and smells that surrounded him, with the beautiful visions that were all that kept him alive. In spite of everything, he still had hope.

The man next to him fell over on his side, and someone pushed him back as far as they could. No one really liked sitting next to dead bodies. It was something even they hadn't got used to. Starsky wondered what it would be like when he truly did become used to seeing dead people his every waking moment. Or the smells of human excrement, and filthy human bodies packed together like sardines in a can. Or eating nothing but moldy bread and watery soup.

No. Don't think about what you're becoming. Think about what you were. What you will be. You will survive this. You will find him again.

The train gave another lurch. Voices echoed down the line, from one boxcar to another. The door at the end of Starsky's car opened.

A group of concentration camp guards stood in the entrance. In the midst of them, was an SS officer. He was tall and blond, and his eyes were ice blue.

The SS man glanced around the boxcar once, then snapped some order or other to the guards. They began to move among the prisoners, checking for signs of life, or death. They dragged the dead to the doorway, and threw them out.

This was something new. Starsky couldn't remember such a thing happening before on any of his journeys from one camp to another. He wondered what it portended.

When the car had been cleared of its contingent of human carcasses, the SS man entered the car himself, and began to walk among the prisoners. He swaggered, with that arrogance that only the SS had, as if they were masters of the earth. He carried a light whip in one of his hands. As he strolled down the boxcar, surveying the prisoners like cattle for the slaughter, Starsky was caught by something in the way he moved. A chill slithered up his spine.

'Hutch,' he thought. And it was as if he'd said the name aloud, though he was incapable of making a sound, for the SS man looked up, and their eyes met.

For a brief moment, the officer seemed to sway, then caught himself. The blue eyes, which had gone dark for a moment, regained their crystal clarity. He stalked toward Starsky, and stopped before him. The whip touched Starsky's chin, and lifted, forcing him to raise his face to Hutch's.

Their eyes met, and held for a moment. Then Hutch dropped the whip, and declared in a bored-sounding voice, 'These prisoners are all half dead. I doubt any of them will make it to the next camp. But, orders are orders.'

He turned and strode back down the line of prisoners, the camp guards following.

Starsky watched him until he left the car, keeping his face carefully blank. What are you up to, Hutch? He leaned his head back against the boxcar wall, and closed his eyes. His mind filled with dreams again, dreams of the last time he'd seen Kenneth Hutchinson.

********************************

--- The Warsaw Ghetto, May 15, 1943.

Candlelight flickered on the stone walls. They lay entwined on the old mattress. Starsky's legs were twined around Hutch's waist. Hutch was buried deep inside him, thrusting. His cock was huge, and every thrust threatened to tear Starsky in two. He tightened his grip on Hutch and encouraged him to thrust even harder.

'God! God! Starsky!' Hutch came, deep inside Starsky's body, and they lay still, sobbing a little in relief, and sorrow.

This could well be the last time. Every time they'd made love could have been the last time, but tonight, that was almost a certainty. Starsky clung to his Hutch, trying to work his lover's cock even more deeply into his own body, but it was no use. That beautiful cock was softening now, and slipping away.

'Sweet, sweet, sweet,' Hutch chanted.

'Stay with me. Stay with me, Hutch,' Starsky begged.

'Come with me,' Hutch answered. 'I'll get you away somehow. I'll find somewhere safe for you to hide.'

'Where? There is nowhere safe. You know that. And you can't stay. You must leave. Now. I didn't mean that about you staying. Leave, beloved. I'll survive.'

Hutch drew his spent cock out of his lover's body, and sat back on his heels.

'I pray for that every day. But you'd be safer out of here. The SS is planning on ending this soon. Maybe tomorrow. I wish I knew more, but I'm too low in the chain of command.'

'You've been so much help to us all, Hutch. Don't worry about me, I'm a survivor. I'm tough.' Hutch smiled back at Starsky's brave smile. He'd known Starsky would never abandon his family to the mercies of the Warsaw Ghetto. And Starsky was right. There was nowhere for him to hide. Hutch tried to imagine showing up at home, with Starsky in tow.

'Mother. Father. This is my lover, David Starsky. Yes, he's Jewish. And yes, he's a man. But we're in love.'

Hutch snorted in laughter as he pictured their faces. They'd both end up being sent to concentration camps. That, or they'd be shot right in the street outside the house. His own father would cheerfully pull the trigger.

Hutch got to his feet, and began to gather his clothes. Starsky touched his arm.

'Wash first,' he ordered.

Hutch sighed. 'I want to keep your scent on me. I never want to wash you away.' But he obeyed. He knew Starsky was right.

'You have me inside you. My seed. My spit. I'd give you my heart's blood if I could. But here.' He bent down, drew a knife out of his boot, and pricked his finger.

'Have some Jewish blood?'

'Yes. Yes, damn them all.' Hutch drew Starsky's bloody finger into his mouth and sucked greedily. Then he washed all outward traces of their lovemaking from his body, before he dressed in the hated SS uniform that was his daily hairshirt, and prepared to face the outside world again.

********************************

They held hands as they climbed the stairs from what Starsky called The Dungeon, to the lower levels of the old stone Temple. This was the headquarters of the Z.O.D. -- the Jewish Fighting Organization. They had held off the Nazis for nearly a month now, in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

Hutch had helped all he could, whilst maintaining his cover as an SS officer. Starsky couldn't even begin to imagine how he did this. Hutch never discussed it, but he did cry in Starsky's arms after love. Starsky gave him all the love and comfort he could, before sending him back to deal with the hate and the pain.

There were still a few members of the Z.O.D. in the meeting room, when they walked in. Their leader, Mordecai, was one of them. Starsky's brother Nick, was another. Mordecai smiled at them both, and offered them some water.

'Sorry about the level of hospitality, Hutchinson.' 'I have no complaints,' Hutch answered.

Nick snorted. 'And what about when you do? Are you going to expect the rest of us to roll over for you?'

Starsky stared at his brother, unable to find the words to put him in his place. Hutch, unusually for him, seemed to have no such problem.

'No, Nick. If you want an SS officer to screw you, find your own.'

'Now look, you....'

'Nicholas!' Mordecai snapped. 'Keep your damned mouth shut!'

'Mordecai, don't worry about it. My help isn't dependent on Nicholas having good manners. In fact, you can all despise me if you want. All of this could well be academic by tomorrow, anyway. Our noble leaders are planning something. Watch yourselves. I wish I could do more, but I'm just one man.'

'You've done a lot, Hutchinson. I don't despise you. I admire you, risking your life every day for us. We're not even your own people.'

'David Starsky's people are my people.'

Hutch bent his head and kissed Starsky in front of them all, then he started down the tunnel that led out of the Warsaw Ghetto.

The next day, the Nazis finished their invasion of the Ghetto, rounded up all the remaining inhabitants, shot thousands of them, and sent the survivors to concentration camps.

********************************

'I've heard... rumours.' The chief guard leaned forward, and fixed Hutch with a bleary eye.

'Rumours?' Hutch raised his head and looked around the private train car, as if the rumour mongers were hiding under the furniture.

'Yes. Just rumours, you understand. But I've heard... the war isn't going well.'

You, my friend, are a master of the art of understatement, thought Hutch.

'Nonsense,' he said. 'Rumours spread by degenerates. Jews. Gypsies,' he lowered his voice. 'Homosexuals. All degenerates. It's their fault. But the great Aryan race will prevail, after we've wiped the degenerates off the face of the earth. Especially the queers. You know what Hitler said about them?'

'No. What?' The guard had gone pale for some reason.

'He said that there were no greater enemies of the great Nazi regime, than the homosexuals. They spread their poison everywhere. That's why we have laws against homosexual thoughts. I've never had a homosexual thought in my life. I'm a good Nazi, like you. We're pure.' Hutch studied the guard's face, to see if he'd gone too far. But the guard looked impressed. Subtlety was not a characteristic of your usual Nazi concentration camp guard.

The guard took a long swallow of his beer, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

'How long do you think it will take?'

'How long will what take?'

'Killing all the degenerates?'

'Good question. You see, the problem is that we've been too kind and loving, so far. We should have just shot them all the first day we took over. Instead, we've tried to cure them.'

'Yes.'

'Sending them to camps was a mistake. Oh, don't look so worried. The Fuehrer agrees. He's changing his policy now. Soon, we'll just shoot all degenerates on sight.'

'Ah. How will we know? I mean, how will we recognize...?'

'What do you mean? Degenerates are immediately recognizable. Their degeneracy is written all over them. There won't be a problem.'

The train lurched and ground to a noisy halt. They could hear shouting and gunfire, outside on the tracks.

'What? What's that?' The guard rose to his feet, and turned to look out the carriage window.

'That? That's nothing. That's your death, Nazi pig,' said Hutch, softly.

The long knife, carefully honed to razor sharpness, slid in under the guard's rib, and into his heart. He sighed once, and fell back into his chair, without protest.

Hutch pulled out the knife, and cleaned it carefully. The guard slumped over on the table, and sat quietly while he did this.

'So, as I was saying,' Hutch observed. 'The Nazis should have shot all the degenerates the first day.'

There was a knock at the carriage door. One of the guards was shouting about partisans. Hutch opened the door, and the guard pushed his way inside.

'Partisans! They're storming the train.' He noticed the man slumped over the table. 'What's wrong with him?'

'Drunk,' said Hutch.

'We have to wake him. The partisans are storming the train.'

'So you said,' Hutch observed.

The guard shook the dead man, to no avail.

'What's wrong with him?' the guard asked, again.

'Him? Oh, he's dead to the world.'

'Mein Gott! He's bleeding. What happened?'

'This!'

The long sliver of steel slid through the flesh of its latest victim as if it had been butter. Hutch cleaned his knife again, listening to the sounds echoing down the corridors of the train. Voices were coming closer, but they were speaking French and Yiddish, not German.

'Wolf? Wolf? You there?'

Hutch left the carriage without a backward glance.

'I'm here. I'm fine. Someone come and clear out the trash in here. We're going to need the room for a while yet. Where's Hannah?'

'In the next carriage. Wolf? You sure you're alright?'

'Yes. I've got something to do. Please, someone clean up the mess. Get all the dead bodies out.'

Hutch strode up through the gangway, toward the boxcars. They did seem to be in control of the train, by now.

'Wolf!' Another voice accosted him.

'Hannah. Do we control the whole train?'

'Yes. As far as I can tell. Where are you off to now?'

'The prisoner's cars. He's there, Hannah. He's alive.'

'Who? Your David?'

'Yes. I saw him. I'm getting him out of that hellhole. Can you handle all this?'

'This? Sure. Go get your friend.'

********************************

Starsky was at the point in his dream where Hutch announced to the Z.O.D. that David Starsky's people were his people, then kissed him, before leaving forever. He could taste Hutch's lips on his own. He could feel Hutch's hands stroking his hair....

But wait, that wasn't part of the dream. Hutch hadn't stroked his hair at that moment. It was important to keep the dream intact, perfect, pristine, exactly as it had been in reality. Nothing must be lost. Nothing must be added, or he'd lose his mind.

No. He must start over. Start with Hutch coming to the meeting. Hutch had managed to smuggle in a few new weapons. The guns and knives had been badly needed. No one objected when they slipped away to The Dungeon. No one cared who you fucked at that point in the game. Well, no one but the Nazis.

They stripped naked as soon as the door closed behind them. It had been ten days since they had touched each other. The need to join their bodies was a physical pain.

Starsky reached for Hutch's cock, and it leapt in his hand like a wild thing. They both cried out with their passion. Hutch pushed him back on the old, dirty mattress that was the only bed they had ever shared. He wound his legs around Hutch's waist, and pulled his lover into himself.

'God! God! Starsky!' He heard Hutch cry out, just as he came, again and again, flooding his body with his warm seed.

********************************

Oh, yes. That part of the dream was intact. It echoed in his mind like bronze bells, ringing, ringing.

'Starsky? David? Beloved? Can you hear me?'

Starsky was confused again. He opened his eyes to see who was talking to him. It was Hutch. He remembered now. Hutch had been here earlier, with the camp guards. He was up to something, and Starsky had to keep his secret. Hutch's eyes had told him that. Starsky carefully closed his eyes again, before he revealed anything to anyone.

Hutch went on talking in his beautiful voice. Starsky was gathered close. He was overwhelmed by the smell of Hutch's body, and the warmth of his arms. Hutch was lifting him, carrying him somewhere safe. Somewhere they could be together, forever.

********************************

'Look here. The tracks run this far. It would be worth the risk, to shorten the hike after we must leave the train. A moving target is harder to shoot at. What do you think, Wolf? Wolf? Wake up, Wolf.'

'I'm awake, Isaac.'

'Yes? That is good, that you are awake. But it would help us all if you would pay attention.'

'Pass me a bowl of that soup, someone? I want to try to get a little food into him. I don't like how pale he is.'

Isaac studied David Starsky's face. Pale? Yes, definitely pale. Pale as a bone. Skeletal was the word he was looking for. He looked like death, thought Isaac. But he didn't dare say so. Not to the man who held his friend against his chest, like a mother clutching her baby. Like a lioness with one cub.

All the White Wolf's band of partisans knew of David Starsky. He was the reason the White Wolf risked his life to rescue Jews, and Gypsies, from the concentration camps. Jews. Gypsies. And the other camp victims, that wore the pink triangles. They all knew that the White Wolf could be sent to a camp himself, wearing that symbol.

Pink triangles. Pink, Isaac supposed, because queers weren't really men? Perhaps that was the reason for the symbol. But no one in the band would ever accuse the White Wolf of not being a real man, not if courage was a component of manhood.

For that matter, their other leader, Hannah, qualified for manhood on that score, though she wouldn't thank him for saying so. Isaac had learned a lot from knowing them both. He'd lost many of his prejudices over the last year.

Hannah handed the Wolf a bowl of soup. It was thin, but still better than anything David Starsky could have eaten lately. The Wolf began to croon to the other man, again like a mother with her baby. Murmuring endearments, and entreaties, in several languages. Yiddish. Polish. French. Even Hebrew. Another language that the Wolf used when he was really upset about something. Norwegian, maybe? Or Swedish? David Starsky stirred a little, in answer to the Wolf's gentle demands.

'Come on, baby. That's it. Just a spoonful. It's warm. You like to be warm.'

'Hutch?'

'Yes. It's me. There, now. You're safe. Just another spoonful. Please.'

'Hutch? Where are we?'

'We're on the train, still. But the guards are all dead. We're running the train, now. Don't worry.'

'Is the war over?'

'No, baby. I'm sorry. The war is still on. But we're safe. We're together. I won't let them take us alive. Trust me?'

'Yes.'

'It's me and thee. Always. We'll survive, or we'll go down fighting. But they won't touch you again. Have some more soup.'

Starsky swallowed another spoonful, watching the White Wolf as if he expected the man to disappear at any moment. Isaac turned back to the map, quickly.

'Wolf? Could you honour us with the benefit of your vast experience for a moment? Should we stay on the train, as far as we can go, or should we leave it soon? It would take us longer on foot, but we would attract much less attention.'

'We stay on the train. As you said earlier, this way, we're a moving target. It's worth the risk to shorten the hike.'

'Yes. But look, we took the train over from those who held it before us.'

'A bunch of camp guards. Drunks. Old men. Boys. None of them trained soldiers. The army, and the SS have more to worry about at this moment than a few escaped prisoners. Once we get near the border, it will be a different story. Then, we ditch the train. Continue on foot. For now, we stay on board. Set a lookout for trouble, and call me if you spot anything suspicious.

'Now, the rest of you find other accommodations, if you don't mind. I'm going to get David settled for the night. He needs some real rest, if we're going to hike over the mountains into Switzerland.'

Isaac agreed, though he thought David Starsky wouldn't hike anywhere, anytime soon. People could surprise you, he thought. He hoped that Starsky was one of those people, for the White Wolf's sake.

Hannah assigned posts to everyone, and the partisans left the meeting. They all said goodbye to the White Wolf, but he seemed barely to notice. Just as Hannah was about to leave, however, he looked up.

'Hannah? Could I... Would you do me a favour?' 'A favour?' Hannah quirked an amused eyebrow. Hutch looked embarrassed.

'Yes. It's a personal favour. David needs a proper wash, but I don't want to leave him. He's so strange. I don't know how he'll react.'

'You want me to see if I can heat up some water for you?'

'Would you? I know it's a lot to ask.' The men in the band had learned early not to expect Hannah to wait on them, as if she were their mother.

'No, it is not. You're a friend. I will see what I can find. And maybe some warmer clothes, too. The Nazi pigs may have had some extra clothes around somewhere. What they were wearing, is covered in their blood.'

'Good. My thanks. Their boots may not be so spoiled.'

'I'll see.'

Hannah left them alone. It was the first time they had been alone since that last night together. And that night had only been an hour of passion, writhing on their bed, straining to join their bodies permanently, grieving over the fact that such a thing was impossible.

Hutch helped Starsky over to a bench along the carriage wall. It was padded, a little. More comfortable than the chair they had been sharing. Starsky obediently lay down on the bench, and looked up at Hutch, expectantly. The expression in his eyes was so strange. Hutch stroked his hair, then took the thin hands between his own, and warmed them against his chest.

'Hutch?' Starsky whispered.

'Yes?'

'Aren't we?'

'Hm? Of course we are. It's all right. Shh. Hannah is going to get us some hot water. Would you like a bath?'

'Bath?' Starsky looked confused, as if the word meant nothing to him. Probably it didn't, by this time, except for the connections to the showers. Concentration camp showers.

'Yes. Just a wash. Would you let me bathe you?'

Starsky closed his eyes, and sighed.

'Will you kiss me? Please. Just once?'

Oh. They hadn't kissed yet. No wonder Starsky looked lost and bewildered. Hutch bent and took Starsky's lips in a tender kiss. Starsky wound his arms around Hutch's neck, and lay back while Hutch kissed his eyes and throat.

'There. Is that better? See. It is me. I'm real. Believe in me now?'

'Hutch,' Starsky sighed.

'Yes. Hutch. Ah. Here's Hannah. See. She has some hot water. At least I hope it's hot.'

'It's hot,' said Hannah. 'I found a small bar of real soap, and some clothes. Boots. Several pairs. One pair might fit not too bad. A little bread. Maybe he can manage to eat some, after he's all nice and clean. Now. I will leave you two alone, if you don't mind. Try to get a little rest, Wolf. We will need you to be alert tomorrow. Good Night, David.'

Hannah strode off down the corridor, toward whatever post she had allocated to herself, her rifle over her shoulder.

'Wolf?' Starsky asked. He looked, and sounded, more alert, as if the kisses had roused him from some deep sleep. The way the prince's kisses had woken Sleeping Beauty, thought Hutch.

'It's what they call me. We're partisans. We work for the Resistance.'

'Oh. And you are a wolf?'

'That's what they say.' Hutch really didn't want to discuss it, though he would, if Starsky needed to. Perhaps he could be distracted.

'Let's get you clean. Will you let me take your clothes off?'

Starsky looked up at him, completely bewildered.

'Of course. Hutch? Aren't we...?' He couldn't seem to finish the question.

'Whatever you want, Starsky. Just let me wash you?'

He lay quiet, while Hutch took off the filthy, torn camp uniform. When he was naked, Hutch wrapped him in a blanket, and began to wash him, starting with his face.

********************************

Hutch was so strange, thought Starsky. What was wrong? Why weren't they naked, entwined together, the way they belonged. The way Starsky needed to be.

This was his dream, all he had left in the world. His Hutch knew that. Why was he changing the dream, taking out the part where they were one? Had he forgotten? Perhaps, after all this time, he had.

The entire outside world had long ago ceased to be real to Starsky. The Nazis could beat him, and starve him, and call him filthy names, but none of that touched him. Not deep in his soul. He kept the memory of Hutch's love at the forefront of his mind, every moment of his existence. It truly was what kept him alive.

Starsky had seen so many camp inmates go mad. Commit suicide. Sit down and wait for death. He knew that some had learned to hate the Germans, as the Germans hated them. Starsky didn't hate anyone, because he had Hutch's love to keep him safe. And he went on living because he had hope.

He had known that Hutch would rescue him. He had dreamt of the moment when his beautiful lover would storm the camp, a thousand brave freedom fighters at his command, and carry Starsky away. This had now happened. But Hutch was leaving out the most important part.

Hutch was washing his feet. So far, he had washed, and gently kissed, every inch of Starsky's body, except for his genitals. Starsky was waiting eagerly for that. His desire wasn't sexual, or not in the usual sense. He had long ago lost all sexual desire. If anyone else touched him in any way, he felt nothing, as if his body were numb. Even the blows from the camp guard's whips had ceased to hurt. But he wanted Hutch to touch him, intimately. That would make the dream real, prove to him that all was now well.

That would make Starsky a real person again.

'Hutch?'

'Yes, beloved?'

'Wash me?'

'I am washing you. There. Almost done.'

'Wash me, Hutch.'

Hutch looked deep into his eyes. The confusion that had clouded his own eyes whenever Starsky had spoken to him, suddenly cleared. Gently, he touched Starsky's penis, and washed it carefully. Then, his testicles, fondling them tenderly. He bent and kissed them.

'Beautiful. You're so beautiful, David. Do you hurt anywhere? Has anyone hurt you, here? Or here?'

'No. I just needed you to touch me. Make me feel real, Hutch.' Now he could say it. Hutch did understand, after all.

'You are real. You're with me, and I know you're real. There, now. All clean again. Wait while I undress. Are you warm enough?'

'I will be.'

Hutch took off his clothes, and slipped under the pile of blankets. The bench was narrow, and it was difficult to get comfortable. Hutch made his body into a mattress for Starsky, and when Starsky's head was resting on his chest, and he could hear his lover's heart beating, he knew he was safe, and himself again. He drew a deep breath, and fell asleep.

********************************

Starsky was asleep. He had been asleep for several hours, now. Hutch had dozed, off and on, which was now his way. He'd forgotten what it was like to fall asleep, secure in the belief that he would wake in the morning, safe in his own bed.

Starsky was asleep. His head was resting over Hutch's heart. One of his hands was buried in Hutch's hair. The other nested in Hutch's hand. Starsky's legs were entwined with his own. The motion of the train rocked them, like babies in their mother's arms.

Starsky was asleep. Hutch pulled the blanket down, just a little and studied what he could see of Starsky's body. Bone thin. Pale. Marks of abuse, and starvation. It looked like he'd been whipped.

Hutch indulged himself in a brief fantasy, in which he tracked down the man at the other end of that whip.

Starsky slept on. Hutch eased the blanket down a little more. His eyes found a mark he had noticed when he had given Starsky his bath. Hutch had pretended the mark did not exist, because Starsky had not needed a display of homicidal rage at that moment. He had needed Hutch's tenderness, and complete acceptance of his body.

Now, Hutch indulged himself in another fantasy, in which he tracked down the monster who had dared to tattoo his lover with a number.

Starsky slept, rocked on top of Hutch's body, like a sailboat on the sea. Hutch was overwhelmed with love. Somehow, his lover had survived. He'd survived being sent to a concentration camp. He'd survived being branded, beaten, starved, and God only knew what else. All, to come back to Hutch and save his soul. Hutch wasn't sure how much of his soul was left, but Starsky could save it, if anyone could.

Hutch felt his cock swell. His love was so deep, it was hard to lie like this, with his lover's body pressed to his own, and not react. But he couldn't help feeling guilty. Starsky wasn't ready for making love. He'd spent the last year in Hell. He didn't need someone molesting him.

Starsky stirred in his arms. He lifted his head and looked down into Hutch's face.

'Hutch,' he whispered. He slid up Hutch's body, until he could kiss his mouth. 'Love me! Love me, Hutch.'

Starsky aligned their bodies, until Hutch could thrust up, into the warm channel made by Starsky's thighs. It had been too long. After only a few thrusts, Hutch came, crying out Starsky's name.

They fell asleep, this time together.

********************************

A little light was coming in the carriage window. Hutch knew that he had slept for several hours, longer than he had slept for a year now. Starsky was no longer lying on Hutch's breast. He had moved to the end of the bench, and was sitting at Hutch's feet. One of his hands was curled around Hutch's ankle.

Starsky was praying.

Hutch lay quietly, listening to the murmured Hebrew words, until Starsky finished. Starsky turned, and looked down at Hutch. He actually smiled, just a little.

'So. You still believe in God,' said Hutch.

'Of course. Don't you?'

'Yes. But I'm not sure He still believes in me.'

'He does,' said Starsky, with certainty. 'But why should I not believe in God? Because of what some of His creation has done? God did not send me to the camps, Hutch.'

'No. Forgive me.'

'There's nothing to forgive. I knew some people in the camps who stopped believing in God. Or they came to hate Him. They said that He had abandoned us. Why now? What had we done? We must have committed terrible sins, to be so punished. I said that there had always been hatred and suffering in the world, and that we, the Jews, had contributed our own share of that.'

'I'm sure your observations made you popular.'

'Yes. They all loved me.' His voice dripped with irony.

'You are incredible. Do you know that?'

'Why do you think that God does not believe in you?'

'I've committed more than my share of terrible sins.'

'Have you? God has never forgotten you. I know that. He told me that you would come to save me, and you did. Help me up there. I need to lie down, again.'

Hutch pulled Starsky into his arms, and lay back down, covering them both with blankets. When Starsky's head was resting on his shoulder again, he continued.

'I never doubted God's word. I never doubted for a moment that you would come to save me, unless you died, and then I would die too, and we would be together again in any case.' Starsky said something in Hebrew. Hutch knew some Hebrew, but not enough to translate. Starsky did it for him.

'I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies. Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.

'That is what I thought, when I saw you standing in the doorway of the boxcar. My love is terrible as an army with banners.

'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death.'

Starsky was whispering now. He was running down, like a wind-up toy, and would soon be asleep again.

'The Lord be between me and thee, for ever,' said Hutch.

'Yes.'

********************************

'Shouldn't one of us check on the Wolf?'

'That wouldn't be a good idea, Isaac. Let sleeping wolves lie.'

'Excuse me? Hannah? The Wolf is asleep? The Wolf never sleeps. He takes very little naps, with one eye open.'

'I checked on him only a little while ago. He was asleep.'

'Are you sure that he is well?'

'Quite sure. Only asleep,' Hannah affirmed.

'If you were speaking of me, I'm now awake.'

The group looked up. The White Wolf was, in fact, wide awake. He stood in the doorway of the room they were all using as a dining car. He looked quite alert. That was not surprising. What was surprising was the man who held onto his arm, for a little support.

David Starsky had looked near death yesterday. He still looked like an inmate of a concentration camp, but his eyes blazed with life. He was dressed in a motley assortment of clothes, that were far too big, but at least were cleaner than the filthy rags he had worn the day before. The hand that wasn't clinging to the Wolf's arm, held onto a piece of bread. He stared back at the room full of people staring at him, then took a bite of his bread and shrugged. The Wolf led him to a chair at the table, and helped him sit down. He himself pulled up another chair, very close, and sat down, his thigh touching Starsky's.

'So,' he asked the group. 'How are things going?'

'Very well, Monsieur Wolf. But that won't last.'

'Of course it won't. How far have we gotten? I noticed we are in the forest.'

'The Black Forest. Yes. But just at the edge. Soon we will be near the Swiss border. Time perhaps to leave this train, before someone becomes curious. Yes?'

'Yes. How are the other passengers doing?'

'The former prisoners, you mean? They are as well as can be expected. We gave them some food, some water. What more could we do, under the circumstances? I think they all understand the circumstances.'

Starsky looked up at that, showing interest in the conversation for the first time.

'Hutch? I think Nicholas might be among them.'

'You're not sure?'

'We were together at Dachau. Then, we got separated. I thought he had died, but someone told me that he was still alive. Someone said they saw him being put on this train. But then he died.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I didn't know him well. But he knew Nick, apparently. He was quite certain it was him.'

The Wolf looked up, and noticed the confused expressions on the faces of his friends.

'Nicholas is David's brother. He may be on the train. I should check, later.'

'Hutch?'

'Yes?'

'May I have a gun?'

'Do you want to shoot Nick?'

'Not right now. Maybe later. I want to be armed, in case we have to fight.'

'Of course. There should be some extra guns. We got all the weapons from the camp guards when we took over the train. Hannah? Isaac?'

Hannah reached behind her back and pulled out a light pistol. She handed it to Starsky.

'Do you know how to use this?' Hannah asked. Starsky took the pistol, and turned it over and over in his hands.

'I think I remember. You pull this, and the bullets come out here. Right, Hutch?'

He looked up at the White Wolf, solemnly. The Wolf smiled. It was the first time anyone in his band had ever seen him truly smile.

The two men shared a long, secret smile, as if Starsky's question were a private little joke.

********************************

---The Warsaw Ghetto, spring 1943

'Herr Hutchinson?'

The man so addressed, looked up from the rifle he was cleaning. In the doorway of the little room he used as an office, stood the most adorable young man he had ever seen. Herr Hutchinson remembered him from the class in firearms he had led the other day.

'Yes? Herr...Starkey, isn't it?

'Starsky. But you can call me David.'

'David Starsky. What can I do to help you?'

'I was wondering... about this gun....'

'Yes?'

'I'm not sure how it works.'

'Weren't you in my class the other day?'

'Yes.'

'I think I explained how guns worked then.'

'Yes. But you see... how do you aim it?'

'Aim it? You point the end at the target, and pull the trigger.'

'I've tried that. It doesn't work.'

'Maybe you were pointing the wrong end.'

'I don't think so. Show me.'

'Show you?'

'Show me how to aim.'

Herr Hutchinson looked at his demanding student. What an aggravating little snot, he thought to himself. Aggravating and adorable. He had curly black hair. Dark blue eyes. That olive skin that he loved, so different from his own. So warm. He got to his feet, hoping that any effects of his meditations on the virtues of Semitic colouring were not immediately noticeable.

He stepped up behind David Starsky, and put his arms around the compact, warm body. He took Starsky's hands in his, and showed him how to hold the gun.

'See. Just as I showed you in the class. You aim the end of the barrel at the target. There are no sights. It just takes practice.'

'Ah,' said his student. He moved back a little, so that his rear brushed against Hutchinson's groin.

'Careful with that,' said Hutchinson. 'It might go off.'

'Would it hit its target?' asked Starsky.

'I don't know. That depends.'

Starsky put the gun down on a nearby table, and turned to Hutchinson.

'On what?' he asked.

'On whether or not the target is moving out of the way, and too fast.'

'What if the target doesn't move away at all? What if the target wants to be hit?'

'Where?'

'Downstairs. There's a room.'

'Show me.'

********************************

Hutchinson let Starsky pull him into the dark stone room. Starsky lit some candles, before closing the door. It was a bare chamber, with a couple of rickety chairs, a small table, and a dirty, bare mattress on the floor. There was a rolled up blanket as a pillow.

Appropriate enough for my rutting, thought Hutchinson, but you deserve better. He watched as Starsky pulled off his clothes. He was lean, and wiry, as was to be expected. The Warsaw Ghetto diet was not elaborate. But the man looked healthy. Strong.

Starsky chattered away, about the room being pretty much sound-proof.

'We torture prisoners here,' he said, laughing.

Hutch went cold. He stopped in the act of removing his shirt, and looked around, as if for bloodstains. Starsky noticed his shock.

'I was joking. I'm sorry. That wasn't very funny,' he said.

'No. It wasn't.'

'Forgive me?'

Hutchinson said nothing. Starsky stepped out of his trousers, and stood naked.

'Now do you forgive me?'

Hutchinson stared for a moment, and closed his eyes.

'Herr Hutchinson? This doesn't have to mean anything, you know.'

'What are you talking about?'

'It doesn't mean that you're queer. If you've changed your mind, that's all right. But if you're thinking....'

'You don't know what I'm thinking,' Hutchinson snapped, in his iciest voice.

'No. Of course not.' Starsky was starting to look nervous. 'I simply meant that, if you like, you can think of me as a woman. I like being on the bottom, and you can just....'

'Is that what this is to you? Is that what you think of me? I'm a Nazi stormtrooper? Some sort of sadist? Maybe you thought I'd bend you over the table, and screw you, still wearing my boots?'

'No, no, no. I'm saying it all wrong. I'm trying to tell you, that you don't need to think this will destroy your manhood.'

'My manhood?' There was no question in Hutchinson's mind about his manhood, no matter who he fucked.

'You can do anything you want to me. I won't hurt you.'

As if you could, thought Hutchinson. You were studying the Torah, only a little while ago. I was learning to kill, while I was still a child. I kill people, the way you swat flies. I'm not worthy to clean your shoes, and you want me to fuck you. He leaned back against the door, and looked at the man before him.

'What's wrong?' Starsky asked. 'Tell me.'

Hutchinson realized that he had sunk down on the floor, and Starsky was bending over him.

'What's wrong?' Starsky asked, again. 'Did I come on too fast, and too strong?'

Yes, thought Hutchinson. You're a brute, dragging me off to your cave.

Starsky smiled, as if he'd spoken the words aloud, and got to his feet. Hutchinson did the same. Starsky put his trousers back on.

'Would you like some wine? It's rotgut, but what isn't these days?'

Hitler's special store of fine French wines, thought Hutchinson. Then, some of his friends have good liquor, as well. That old bugger, what's his name....

'Herr Hutchinson?'

David Starsky's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

'Yes?'

'Why don't you have a seat? Here.'

Starsky held out a chair for him. He's trying to seduce me, thought Hutchinson. As if I were a nervous virgin. He was too shocked to laugh, which was probably fortunate. All he could do, was walk over to the chair, sit down, and take the wine that Starsky offered him. It was in a chipped tea cup. Starsky poured some wine for himself, in another. He sat on the other chair.

They drank the wine. It wasn't exactly rotgut, but not up to Hitler's standards. But then, neither was his host, Hutchinson thought. That's fine with me.

'Better?' Starsky asked, after a moment.

'Yes,' Hutchinson answered, politely.

'Do you want to stop? Go back upstairs. Forget this ever happened?'

'I want to make love to you. Let me suck your cock?'

'I told you, you can do whatever you want,' said Starsky.

'But I shouldn't,' Hutchinson heard himself say. 'I should go home. Where I belong.'

'If you want to. But I'd like you to stay. You're very beautiful, you know. I want you. Very much.'

'I'll stay. I'll suck your cock. Then I'll go home.'

Starsky said nothing. He got up, and walked over to the mattress. He took his trousers off again, and lay back, across the mattress. Hutchinson came to him, knelt over the offered body. He longed to touch it, stroke the soft, warm, olive skin. But he took Starsky's cock in his mouth, and swallowed it, deep into his throat.

Starsky gasped with shock. He sat up a little, and looked down at Hutchinson, his eyes wild. Hutchinson sucked harder. Starsky bucked up into his mouth a few times, and came.

Hutchinson let himself fall over Starsky's prone body for a few moments. It was a weakness that he shouldn't allow himself, he thought. The need for comfort. He started to sit up, but Starsky caught his arm, and pulled him back, with surprising strength.

'Oh, no,' he said, shakily. 'We're not finished yet. I want you inside me. Fuck me.'

Hutchinson looked down into the pure blue eyes, that were hot with desire, and need. His own body was singing with that same need, but it was Starsky's passion that decided him. Starsky reached down and freed Hutchinson's cock from its prison of clothing.

'Beautiful. Keep all your clothes on,' he ordered. 'Just push it in. I'm all relaxed, and ready. I used some oil on myself, before I came to meet you. Why waste time?'

Hutchinson felt his cock twitch at the picture Starsky painted for him. The little demon, his fingers, coated with oil, twisting inside his own body. Starsky wrapped his legs around Hutchinson's shoulders.

'Come on, what's taking you so long? The world could end tomorrow. In fact, it probably will. Stop thinking. Just fuck me. Now.'

Hutchinson obediently pressed the blunt end of his cock against the warmth of Starsky's body. The flesh gave way before him. He pushed further inside. Starsky moaned. He pulled out a little, and Starsky tightened his muscles, to hold him back. He pushed in a little further, and the warmth of Starsky's body melted, and welcomed him. With each thrust, Starsky let him deeper inside. With each withdrawal, he clung all the tighter. Starsky's own cock was growing hard, again.

They moved together, rocking, clinging, demanding, submitting. Hutchinson felt the powerful demands of his own body take over. Always, there was a violence that lurked under his cool, calm facade. He rarely let it loose, and never in bed. With anyone. But Starsky was encouraging that wildness to break free of his iron control. He was keeping up a constant, obscene commentary, in several languages, on the size, and shape, and power, and heat of Hutchinson's cock, and how it felt inside him. His feet were drumming against Hutchinson's back now, his hands pounding his shoulders.

Hutchinson felt a deep wave of ecstasy surging up his spine. He gave several final, powerful thrusts, and felt his cock jerk inside Starsky's body, and release his seed. Starsky cried out and came again, himself.

Hutchinson looked down into the lambent, dark blue eyes, that saw into his very soul. I love you, he thought. He let his head sink down onto Starsky's shoulder. Starsky stroked his hair. He said something in Hebrew.

Hutchinson murmured, 'I don't know enough Hebrew. What did you say?'

'And the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and he loved him as his own soul.'

********************************

The Temple was dark, and deserted. Starsky led him inside, past the stone arches, into the central room. The windows were broken and boarded up. Starsky carried his candle to one of the small candelabra, and lit it. Overhead, the great arches of the choir loomed, and the high stand, from which the Torah was read.

Starsky drew him down on a bench.

'Have you ever been in a temple, or a synagogue, before?'

Hutchinson didn't want to answer, but he couldn't lie to this man.

'The first time, was when I was in the Hitler Youth. It was a sort of field trip.'

'I gather you weren't invited in, and you didn't stay for prayers.'

'No.'

And then, after a long moment of silence, 'Being inside your body, is like being in a temple.'

Starsky took his hand, and stroked it.

'Mordecai told us all about you, before you came to talk to us about guns and fighting.'

'I very much doubt that he did anything like that.'

'He told us you were an SS officer, that you'd been raised as a Nazi, but that you were secretly working against them. He said that you passed on information to the Allies. That you tried to save Jews and Gypsies from the camps. That you were very brave.'

'Well, as I said, I doubted he told you all about me.'

'What more is there to tell?'

'Much that you'll never know.'

'Why shouldn't I know?'

'Do you need to? Does it distress you, to think you shared your body with someone like me?'

'No. I have no problems with that. But you don't need to hide anything. I'm yours, no matter what you've done, or will do. That is a vow, and I've made it in the Temple. We're married, now.' 'I doubt that others of your faith would see it that way.'

'Nor would your Nazi friends. It doesn't trouble me. I prayed to the Lord for a lover, just like you, and he has sent you to me. We need each other. What does if matter what others think of us?'

'Nothing. You have my vow, too. For what it's worth.'

'Oh. It's worth a lot.'

********************************

--- Somewhere near the German/Swiss border, spring, 1944.

Their secret smile ended. Starsky took another bite of his bread. He chewed slowly, then looked down at the bread he still held in his hand.

'This is too much,' he said, and looked up at Hutch. 'Help me eat it.'

********************************

Hutch strolled among the former prisoners. They looked, perhaps, a little better than they had the day before. A little less resigned to death. They had accepted the changing of the guard from Nazi to Resistance, with stoic calm. But then, Hutch suspected they wouldn't have reacted if their guards had turned into giraffes.

They still sat about on the wooden floors of the boxcars. The cars had been cleaned out as much as possible. A few blankets had been distributed and the passengers huddled under them. Everyone had been given a bowl of watery soup and some bread. Nothing more could be done, at this time.

Hutch noticed a man, sitting a little apart from the others. He stalked up and raised the man's head with his whip, as he had done to Starsky the day before.

'Hello, Nick,' he said, gently.

Nicholas Starsky stared up at him. He was thin, and dressed as the other prisoners, but he didn't look quite so defeated. Certainly, he did not appear to have been as abused as David Starsky had.

'Well, if it isn't the SS come to rescue me. Thank you.'

'You're welcome. How are you doing?'

'Well. The accommodations aren't as fine as what my brother is enjoying, I'm sure.'

'He deserves better than you.'

Nick snorted.

'Since when do queers deserve anything but death?'

'I'm finding this conversation enthralling, but it's taking up far too much of my time. David wants to see you.'

'Why?

'You're his brother. For some reason, that matters to him. He still loves you, no matter what you've done.'

'No matter what I've done? That's good. Really good. What have I done?'

'You were one of the kapos, weren't you?'

A woman, sitting a few yards away, raised her head, and looked at Hutchinson. Their eyes met. She nodded.

'Yes, sir. He was a kapo.'

Nick laughed.

'So what, bitch? And what are you, Hutchinson? You're still wearing your little Nazi uniform, I see. You enjoy all the privileges of being a Nazi, and convince yourself that you're righteous by performing these little acts of charity, once in a while. Bringing us a few guns, back in the ghetto. Now, a few slices of bread. And all the time, you're just one of them.'

'Privileges? You think it's a privilege, to be a Nazi?'

'You've been eating good meals the last year. While we've been starving. No one has been beating you, or killing your friends before your eyes.'

'If you say so,' said Hutchinson. 'As I said, for some reason David wants to see you. You keep all these opinions to yourself, while you're with him. Pretend you're happy to see him. If you cause him any grief, you will look back on your time in Dachau with fond nostalgia. Do I make myself clear?'

'Sieg Heil!'

'Keep your filthy tongue still, or I'll cut it out, Nicholas. Get on your feet.'

Hutchinson had always kept his temper around Nicholas Starsky, only for his brother's sake. Now, Nicholas paled at the sight of his face. He got to his feet, and stared. The other prisoners, who had scarcely paid any attention to his presence up until this moment, sat up too. They shrank back, as far as they could.

'David is waiting to see you. Don't talk to me, while we walk to his carriage, or I'll throw you off the train, and say it was an accident. Do you understand me?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Get moving.'

Nicholas got moving. Being a Nazi did have its good points, thought Hutchinson.

********************************

'Starsk?'

Starsky looked up. His Hutch was back, from wherever he had wandered off to, and from whatever, in his infinite wisdom, he had done there. Starsky could wake up again. All was well.

'Hutch,' he said, and smiled.

'Look. I found Nick.'

Starsky looked back and forth between his lover and his brother.

'Hello, Nick,' he said, his voice rather cool.

'David. It's good to see you. Hutchinson said you wanted to talk to me?'

'Yes. How are you doing? We have a little bread. Would you like some?'

'Just a small piece. I've had some already.'

'We don't have much. We've been sharing it equally, Nick. I've been trying to persuade Hutch to eat something. I don't think he ate anything from the time he came on board the train, until I forced some bread down him, a while ago.'

'I'm fine,' said Hutch.

'Of course you are. But you need your strength. Have more. You too, Nick.'

Hutch looked at the man. He resembled nothing so much as a walking skeleton, yet he was worried about Hutch, and Nick, and offering them the bread he needed for his own life. Hutch knew that Starsky wouldn't eat until he was satisfied that those he loved were fed. He took the hunk of bread offered him.

'You'll even take the food out of his mouth, won't you?'

Hutchinson turned white, and put the bread back down.

'Nicholas....' Starsky stared at his brother, in confusion. 'He's not. I want him to eat something. Hutch, please. Nick, why do you say these things?'

'Yes. Why, Nick?' Hutchinson asked. 'Remember what I told you, earlier?'

'You told me you'd throw me off the train.'

'And what did you say to push him to that, Nicholas?' Starsky asked.

'Why do you think I said anything? You always take his side. He's a queer, and a Nazi. He's led you into perversion. You deserve to be stoned to death for what you've done, according to the word of the Lord. I've said to you before....'

'And you would be wise to not say it again.' Starsky's voice had gone hard. Harder than Hutchinson had ever heard it. 'Hutch has not led me into anything that I hadn't done before. He didn't make me queer. I've told you that. I was always queer. And yes, I do take his side. I'll always take his side. I know him. I know you both. He never speaks against you. You always denigrate him. He has never lied to me. Your lies are endless. If you want equal consideration, change your ways.'

'You queers all stick together.'

'That's the explanation for this situation, I'm sure,' said Starsky. 'Hutch, stop looking at Nick like that. Just ignore him. It's best. Threats don't really work. Nothing does. Eat that bread, or I'll beat you.'

Hutchinson picked the bread back up, and choked down a mouthful. Every time he looked at his lover's face, he wanted to take a vow never to eat again.

Nick smirked at him. Starsky took his hand, and watched while he ate.

'That's better,' he said.

********************************

'Monsieur Wolf? Hannah and Isaac are looking for you. They think we should leave the train very soon.'

'Thank you, Robert. I'll come and join them. Could you escort Nicholas back to the boxcar?'

'Certainement.'

'The serfs must return to their places, non?'

'Nicholas.'

'Oui, oui, David. He is right, always. Toujours juste. I know who is in the wrong. C'est moi. I will retire, and leave him the field.'

'Thank you. Don't bang the door on your way out,' said Hutch.

Nick smirked at Hutch, again, and marched off.

'Well,' said Starsky.

'I'm sorry, neshomeleh.'

'What do you have to be sorry for?'

'I tried to persuade him to behave around you.'

'I'm used to him. He is a brat. That's not your fault.'

'He blames me for something.'

'Making me queer. The entire concentration camp system. Maybe the outcome of the first war. Whatever is wrong in his world, someone else must be to blame. Why not you, or me. Never Nick. Ignore him.'

'He worries me. He wants to cause trouble between us.'

'No one can cause trouble between us, unless we let them. We must not let them.'

They had reached General Headquarters, as Starsky had christened the meeting room. Isaac and Hannah were studying a map.

'Wolf,' Hannah said. 'We are thinking it's time to leave, very soon. We're coming up to this village, here. See. The train lines don't go on much further. We're getting too close to the border. We could run into some trouble soon.'

'I agree. Starsky?'

'Hmmm?' Starsky was studying the floor, intently.

'Do you have an opinion?'

'I don't know enough to offer one, Hutch. But what happens after we leave the train?'

'We've done this sort of thing many times. We'll abandon the train, and start across country, into the Alps. I know a secret pass over the Alps into Switzerland. Anyone who enters Switzerland is arrested, but they're treated much better than here in Germany. It's a worthwhile payoff.'

'I don't want to go to a camp, Hutch. I want to stay with you.'

'Then you will stay with me. After we lead the rest of the passengers over the pass, we'll return. Find somewhere to hide, until you are strong enough to go on.'

'I'm strong now, as long as you're with me.'

'If you like. That's settled, then. We should stop the train where you suggest. Another half hour. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' said Isaac. 'We'll pass the message on to the others. Start getting the passengers prepared.'

Hannah and Isaac left them alone.

'Hutch?'

'Yes?'

'You won't leave me, will you?'

'Never. As long as I'm alive.'

'I've wondered sometimes. We had so little time together. Would you get bored with me, if we lived together?'

'Bored? How could I ever be bored with you?'

'I could irritate you,' Starsky offered.

'You are irritating, yes. That is true. Not boring. I could live with you, if you were irritating.'

'That is good, Herr Hutchinson. I could live with you as well. Even if you are irritating.'

'Am I?'

'No. Not at all. You are very beautiful, in fact. I want to make love to you, Herr Hutchinson. But there is no time. When will there be time? There will always be people around. I want to be alone with you. Touch you.'

'Shh.' Hutchinson closed the door, and put a chair against the handle. He drew Starsky over to the farthest corner.

'Quickly now. We don't have much time. Touch me.'

********************************

Starsky kissed Hutchinson's cock one last time, and tucked it back inside his trousers. He sighed, and rested his head on his lover's thigh. 'We should go, now,' said Hutchinson, stroking the dark curls of his lover's hair. 'The train is stopping. End of the line. Time to get off.'

'Just one moment more.'

'Are you happy?'

'Yes. I had you inside me, again. In my mouth. Your seed is inside me, now. It tastes good. It smells good on my hands. You made sounds.' He sighed again. 'Are you happy?'

'Mmm. Your tongue. So soft and warm. I only wish....'

'Don't worry about that. It doesn't matter. It's not the most important thing. I felt your pleasure... you made sounds,' Starsky said, again. He looked up at Hutchinson, and his expression was blissful.

'You like that, don't you?'

Hutchinson had trained himself to be silent during sex, lest he give too much away. He had trained himself to concentrate only on the physical pleasure in his cock, and ignore the rest of his body, and his emotions. It had been one of the happiest moments in Starsky's life, he had informed Hutch, when he made Hutch moan with pleasure; when Hutchinson had truly given in to his emotional needs, as well as all the pleasures of his entire body; when Hutchinson had wept in his arms, after making love.

'We should go,' said Hutchinson. 'Come on. Let me help you up.'

Hutchinson gathered his lover into his arms, and lifted him to his feet. He weighed no more than a child, but Hutchinson didn't let his fear show. Starsky would survive, if he had survived this long, thought Hutchinson, firmly, barring the interventions of the Nazis or the Allied bombers. If not, if he did die, Hutchinson would join him, as soon as possible.

********************************

The band of partisans was waiting. The train had stopped close to the edge of the Black Forest, not far from Lorrach. Basle was about 10 miles away. They were near the juncture of three borders: Germany, France, and Switzerland. The Jura Mountains loomed ahead.

They had gathered everything that could be of any use to them on their journey, and distributed the spoils among all the members. The former prisoners were too weak to carry much.

'Where is Monsieur Wolf?' Robert asked.

'He'll be here in a moment, I am sure,' Hannah answered.

Nicholas was nearby, and overheard.

'Sie ficken,' he said.

Hannah shrugged. 'That is their business, not ours. They'll be here.'

'We're here now,' Hutchinson announced. 'Where's my pack?'

'Right here,' said Isaac, handing it to him. 'Let's go.'

'Hutch? I can carry something,' Starsky protested.

'If you want. Carry some food for us. Hannah? Do you have something for Starsky to carry? Food?'

Hutchinson's eyes met Hannah's. She dug into her own pack, and pulled out some bread, wrapped in cloth. Starsky put it in his coat pocket.

'I'll take care of it, Hutch.'

'I know. Let's get a move on. I want to be at our first stop at nightfall.'

Hutchinson helped Starsky disembark from the train. The others followed. They started off, toward the secret mountain pass.

********************************

---Somewhere in the Alps, several days later

Hutchinson looked around at the mountainous landscape, then called a halt. He gathered tree branches to make a bed in small depression among the rocks, and settled Starsky there. He covered Starsky with his own greatcoat, and persuaded him to get some rest.

'I have something to do. I won't be long. Let Hannah get you something to eat. And don't worry.'

'I'm not worried,' Starsky said. 'You'll be back soon.'

Starsky closed his eyes, and seemed to go to sleep. Hannah had told Hutchinson that whenever he was out of sight, Starsky was unreachable, as if the rest of the world did not exist. This didn't worry Hutchinson too much. Starsky would eventually regain all his faculties, he was sure. In the meantime, Hutchinson was there most of the time, and Starsky appeared to be perfectly rational.

He found Hannah, and asked if she would keep an eye on David. Nicholas still worried him. His experiences in the camps seemed to have warped him in some ways. Hutchinson wasn't sure how far the damage went.

He left the path, and hiked through the alpine forest, following a path only he knew. He found the great pine still standing, and studied the rocks around it. His pack, with its hidden store, was still safely buried under them. He changed his jackboots for the hiking boots that would be far more comfortable. He pulled out the coat that provided more camouflage than his Nazi greatcoat. There was a pullover sweater that would keep Starsky warmer than what he was wearing currently. A store of dried food that would be welcome.

Best of all, there was his bow.

He remembered his childhood, back before the Nazis took over, when he spent time in Norway with his grandparents. They were not Nazis, and they provided the needed support for his own beliefs. They had taught him to think for himself, to make up his own mind. They had taught him to hike, to ski, to hunt and fish, to live off the land, and to survive.

********************************

'I wonder where your little Nazi fotze went off to now?'

Starsky didn't answer. Nick studied the blank face before him. He nudged Starsky with his foot.

'Hey! Leave him alone,' Hannah said.

'Or you'll do what, little whore?'

'Verpiss Dich! I can't believe you're David's brother, born of the same mother. She must have died after she gave birth to you, and you were raised by wolves or something. Leave your brother alone. If the Wolf saw you kicking him, he'd throw you over a precipice.'

Hannah stomped off. Starsky seemed not to have heard a word of the conversation.

There was a bit of a stir, off at the edge of the camp. Starsky woke up.

'Hutch,' he said. He got to his feet, and walked off as if drawn by a magnet. Nicholas followed, curious about the noise that Hutchinson's arrival was causing.

'It's worth the small risk, Robert. I know this area, remember? Build up the fire, we'll roast the meat quickly on spits. Get everyone fed, then maybe fit in another quick march before it's too dark to see properly.'

Hutch had done some hunting, obviously. A chamois. A brace of grouse. Isaac and Hannah were building up the fire, cutting sticks for spits. Hutchinson was butchering the small antelope, and he'd handed the grouse to Robert for cleaning.

'Ah. There you are, Starsky. Look what we have. Do you think you could eat some of this, even if it isn't kosher? Build up your strength, for me?'

Starsky sat down on the ground beside Hutchinson, and leaned his head against the other man's shoulder.

'Yes,' he said. 'If you like.'

'I like. We still have a long march ahead of us. Another two days, before the Pass.'

********************************************

'Why do we have to march after dark? I'm tired.' 'Because I say so, Nick.'

Nicholas opened his mouth, as if to say 'Heil Hitler!', but closed it when everyone around him glared.

It was late, and very dark. Everyone was tired, and the air was thin this high into the Alps. It was cold, though it was late spring. At this altitude, there was still some snow around, and the possibility of another snow storm existed. Hutchinson insisted that the night march was necessary.

'The White Wolf knows his way around here, Nick Starsky. We just follow his orders, and he's never led us wrong yet,' said Isaac.

'There's always a first time.'

'Now, there is a positive attitude for you.'

'I'm sick of positive attitudes.'

'Indeed,' said Hutchinson. 'There was a lot of that sort of thing at Dachau, was there? First I've heard of it. How did this phenomenon assert itself?'

David Starsky smiled at his Hutch. Hutch had shown up two days ago, dressed as a mountaineer. He had shed the Nazi boots, though they were still stowed safely in his pack. He only used the greatcoat as a blanket, now. He looked beautiful, and more relaxed, out of his hated uniform. Starsky wanted to make love to him, but though they slept together, under the coat, there was no opportunity to do so.

That didn't stop Nick from making obscene remarks about what was going on under that coat, when everyone else was asleep. Starsky didn't understand his brother. They had been through hell, but had escaped, and all because of Hutch. They weren't out of the woods yet, by any means, but Hutch was doing everything he could to get them there, and with little help from Nick.

Starsky wondered if Nick felt guilty, because of his privileged status in the camps, as a kapo. Starsky had forgotten that Nick had been a kapo, until Hutch told him. They had lived in different parts of Dachau, and then Nick had been moved to another camp, if he remembered correctly. Starsky was vague on the details of his time in the camps. One horrible experience tended to blur into another. Had something happened, to make Nick so bitter, and full of hate? Something that Starsky had forgotten about?

But then, Nick had been bitter about his relationship with Hutch even before the camps. And Hutch had suffered many painful things in his life, and he was courtesy itself, kind and thoughtful to everyone, no matter what was happening. Starsky imagined that, even when he was killing people, he did it quickly and humanely, and without any crudeness, or bad manners.

Starsky wondered, not for the first time, if there was some jealousy behind Nick's hostility toward Hutch. Did Nick secretly desire Hutch? He had never given any signs of being queer, but such a thing was not impossible. Other than that, Starsky could find no explanation for Nick's behaviour.

'Come on everyone,' Starsky said. 'The sooner we get going, the sooner we can stop for the night. Right, Hutch?'

'Right, buddy. Are your boots tied nice and tight? Got a scarf on under that coat?'

Hutch was like a mother hen, with one chick, thought Starsky. He had made Starsky put the greatcoat on over his own coat, saying that there was no one to see it in the dark, in the middle of a mountain pass, and that he might as well get some benefit from Nazi paraphernalia.

Starsky took Hutch's arm, and they started on the final part of the march, to the secret pass. Starsky could smell the snow in the air. It was getting difficult to breathe, at this altitude. He gave up on trying to see where they were going, and simply clung to Hutch's arm, letting Hutch lead him where he would. Hutch seemed to have some mysterious knowledge of where they were, and where they were going.

Starsky had listened to the others talking, whenever Hutch was out of ear shot. Everyone thought he didn't know what was going on around him, when Hutch was not there. This wasn't true. Starsky couldn't react, it was as if there were a veil between him and the world, a veil that only Hutch could pierce, but he saw and heard everything that went on. The other partisans had told stories, of how Hutch led former prisoners over the pass. Always after dark. Hutch had never said why, and they had stopped asking.

The sky was crystal clear, this high up. The moon and the stars were their only lights. Starsky felt the cold walls of the mountain pass close around him. He clutched Hutch's arm even tighter, and followed his lover into the unknown.

They marched for several hours, Hutchinson leading them on, into the unknown night. It was nearly dawn, and a faint glimmer of light was appearing in the east, when the Wolf finally called a halt. He led them into a cave, and they settled down to sleep.

Starsky was cradled against his lover's breast. He let his hand trail down the firm chest, down, down to his lover's cock.

'Careful,' Hutch murmured in his ear. He gently caught the questing hand, and held it tenderly. 'I know what you want. I want it too. But we mustn't. Not with people around.' Hutch lifted his hand, and kissed it.

'Everyone's asleep,' Starsky protested.

'Maybe. But I can't relax, if there's any chance that they could hear. Not with you. It reminds me too much....'

Starsky didn't know the details of Hutch's previous sex life, but he knew that a lot of it hadn't been pleasant and went against everything Hutch truly wanted and enjoyed. Knowing what he did of the activities of the SS, he speculated that rape was involved, that Hutch had been forced to take part in some of the rapes. He didn't want to know more. At times, Starsky almost thought that he was the one who had had the easier time, the last few years. When the war was over, and they found refuge, somewhere in the world, Starsky was going to do all he could to make up for everything his lover had suffered.

He pulled Hutch's hand to his own lips, and kissed each finger tip, carefully. Then the knuckles. Then the centre of the palm.

'Starsky. Please.' Hutch's voice was ragged with repressed desire.

'I'm sorry,' Starsky said.

He heard Hutch draw a breath to answer, but loud voices outside interrupted. The shouting drew nearer. Hutch threw back the coat they used as their blanket and got to his feet. He drew his gun, and stood facing the cave entrance. The guard at the entrance had already done the same.

Starsky got up, and followed Hutch and Zack, the guard, outside. Robert was approaching the cave, dragging Nicholas behind him. Nick was protesting, shouting something about not doing anything wrong.

'Nick?' Starsky asked. 'What were you doing out of the cave?'

'That's it. I wasn't doing anything, but you all just immediately blame me for something. I only wanted to take a shit. Ask Zack. I told him I was taking a shit. Didn't I?'

'He's right, Wolf. He did say he was going out to answer the call of nature. But I think that was an hour ago.'

'So what? I was all plugged up. I couldn't just do it, you know?'

'I found him way back down the pass, Monsieur Wolf. He was heading back down to where we came from.'

'I wasn't going anywhere, just stretching my legs, and looking for a place to shit in private. I'm tired of doing everything surrounded by dozens of people.'

'So are we all, Nick,' said Hutchinson. 'I'd like some privacy, too. Why were you looking for yours back in Germany?'

'Nick? Hutch? What's going on?'

'Starsky,' said Hutchinson, tenderly. 'Go back in the cave.'

'No. I want to know what's going on. Now. Stop treating me like a child, Hutch. I'm not.'

'I didn't say you were. But you don't need to be involved in this.'

'Involved in what? Tell me,' Starsky ordered.

'Your Nazi fotze is going to try out some of his SS techniques to question me. He doesn't want you to know the kind of person he really is.'

'Nick, what were you up to?' Starsky asked, himself. 'Why were you walking back to Germany? Tell us now, please Nick.'

'I have nothing to say. If you don't believe my word that I was doing nothing....'

'No, Nick. I don't. You have to come up with a better explanation than looking for a place to relieve yourself. It's still mostly dark. You don't know where you are. It was stupid to wander off. You could have fallen and killed yourself. I know you're not that stupid. What were you really up to?'

Nicholas was silent. Hutchinson looked down at the ground for a long moment, then he turned to Starsky.

'Won't you go back in the cave, David?'

'I can't, Hutch. Do what you have to do, but I'm staying.'

'So,' said Nick. 'You choose the Nazi over your own brother. Your own people. You'd stand there and watch while he tortures me?'

'If you tell us what you were doing, Nick, he won't have to torture you. And is that what you think I am doing, here? Choosing Hutch over you. I love you both, Nick. If he were in the wrong... if he were the one.... You were going back to Germany. Why, Nick? To pass on information? You're a spy, aren't you? The Nazis wanted to know how people were escaping into Switzerland, but they couldn't find the pass. So they sent you.'

'No. They didn't send me. But I heard that they wanted to know about the pass.'

'So you were going to try to make it back, and sell them the information? Are you insane? They wouldn't pay you for it, they'd torture you. Or even if they did pay you, what kind of a life is that? Selling out your own people?'

'I don't know why you act so surprised,' said Nick, watching Hutchinson's face. 'You're a traitor to your own race. And your manhood. You know what I've been up to. I told you before. Why do you act so innocent?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'My brother was in on the plot,' Nick announced, to the other partisans. 'He and his Nazi boyfriend. They've been leading you on all along. Tricking you. Gaining your trust. But they'll just sell you out to the Nazis.'

'I give up, Nick. I don't know you any more. Do whatever you want with him, Hutch.'

'That's right. Sell out your own brother. That way you get all the profit.'

********************************

Nick had been tied up, and awaited the judgement of the partisans.

'What do you want to do with him? We're nearly at the Swiss border. We can send him on with the others. He'll spend time in prison, like everyone else,' Hutchinson pointed out.

'I don't know, Monsieur Wolf. Is that wise? He is a traitor.'

'In his heart, yes, Robert. But he hasn't actually betrayed us. Or anyone, as far as we know. He couldn't have led the Nazis here. No one knows the way into this pass, or the way out. Only I know the way, or will ever know it.'

'That is true, perhaps,' said Isaac. 'Yet he still intended to betray us. He failed, yes. He is still a traitor. And then there is the other matter. The matter of his brother.'

'What about his brother?' Hutchinson asked, softly.

'I am sorry, Monsieur Wolf,' said Robert. 'But he did say that his brother knew of his actions.'

'And you believe him? He was only trying to cause trouble. To take David down with him. You know that.'

'I don't know what to believe, Wolf,' said Isaac. 'But he has cast doubt upon David Starsky's loyalty. That question has to be addressed.'

'There is no question about David Starsky's loyalty, Isaac. I know this. That is final.'

'But Wolf....'

Isaac found himself staring into the barrel of Hutchinson's pistol.

'Back up, Isaac. All of you. Back up slowly. That's good. Now, one at a time, take out your weapons and put them on the ground. Isaac, you first. Carefully now.'

'What are you doing, Wolf?'

'I would think that would be obvious, Isaac. You don't trust me. You believe the word of a traitor over mine. I know you have a small pistol in your boot. Take it out slowly. Thank you. Now back up further. Hannah? You next. All your guns. All your knives.'

'Hutch? What is going on?' Starsky had slipped up behind Hutchinson, silently.

'It's all right, Starsky. My friends and I are having a disagreement about something. Stay behind me. Do what I say. Immediately. Understand? The rest of you, put your weapons down. That's it. I will shoot the first person who makes a funny move. Never doubt it.'

All the partisans put their weapons on the ground, and sat down when Hutchinson told them to.

'Now,' said Hutchinson. 'We are going to have a little talk about whose word is reliable. And whose isn't. Do you have your gun, Starsk?'

'Yes.' Starsky pulled his gun out from behind his back, and pointed it at the partisans.

'I taught him how to shoot,' Hutchinson observed, as if there were nothing more to be said.

'Has he ever killed anyone, Wolf?' Hannah asked.

'I fought with the Z.O.B. Yes, I killed people. I'll fight beside Hutch. To the death.'

'So,' said Hannah. 'There is a way he can prove to us all he's not a traitor, along with his brother.'

'What is that?' Hutch asked.

'If he executes Nick. That will prove....'

'Oh, no,' said Hutch. 'If you want to take up killing Jews, you'll have to do it yourselves. And I'm having no part of this, now.'

'It's the way we've survived, Wolf,' Isaac said. 'We can't be emotional over these things. If someone can't be trusted, they must die. They are endangering the lives of others.'

'David Starsky is endangering no one's life. No one is going to force him to kill his own brother. The next person who suggests that, dies himself.'

'Then, you are choosing this man over your brothers.' Isaac said.

'If you want to look at it that way, be my guest. Now, here's the situation, as I see it. You can trust my word that David and I are not traitors, or you can't. If you can't, you have two choices. We can fight it out, here and now. Perhaps you can get to your weapons, and take us down before we shoot the lot of you. I've stood against greater odds, and won. Whatever happens, it would be a bloodbath. On the other hand, you can march with the prisoners, down into Switzerland. Spend the rest of the war there, in relative safety.

'Or, you can take your chances. Trust my word that David Starsky is not a traitor. Finish out this mission. I'll lead you to whatever border you want to cross. You can go on, fight for the Resistance.

'Whatever you choose, we're finished. But I'm no traitor. Which is it to be?'

********************************

Hutch stood watching the former prisoners walk down into Swiss territory. The Swiss Army patrolled this area, on a regular basis. Soon, the band of refugees would be in their hands. Nick walked among them. They had cut his bonds, before sending him off into Switzerland. He seemed to understand that he would have a better chance if he marched with the others, rather than trying to escape back into Germany. 'I still think you were wrong to insist that Nicholas go free,' said Hannah. 'He's dangerous, whatever he was planning to do.'

'I'm sick of killing. I know I will have to kill again, but I couldn't stand there and let you shoot David's only living relative in cold blood. And we are both dangerous, Hannah, you and I. Who knows what harm you might do to me, or I do to you? Shall we shoot each other, now?'

'No. I want to stay friends. Won't you change your mind about leaving?'

'No, Hannah. I'm sorry. I could forgive you for not trusting me, but not for what you said about David.'

'I know that you think we were being too paranoid. But there is no such thing, in this world. Spies are everywhere.'

'I will lead you to the French border. Then we part ways.'

'If that is what you wish.'

'It is what I wish.'

********************************

Hutchinson led the partisans back into the pass. They were spending the night in the cave, where the drama over Nick started. In the morning, they were going on to the French border. Starsky wasn't sure what he and Hutch were going to do then.

They fell asleep, nestled under Hutch's greatcoat. Starsky awakened several hours later, from strange dreams. At first he thought that the cold, wet nose that nudged him awake was part of his dreams. But then he looked up into dark eyes set in white fur. A long tongue snaked out, and licked his chin. The wolf sat back on his haunches and laughed at him, silently. It looked over its shoulder to the back of the cave, got to its feet, and whined at Starsky, expectantly.

Starsky looked down at Hutch. He was asleep, and Starsky didn't want to wake him. The others slept on, obliviously. Starsky slipped out of Hutch's arms, and joined the white wolf.

The wolf led him toward the back of the cave, and then around a bend in the cave wall that Starsky hadn't noticed before. It was pitch black in the cave now. Even the faint light of the moon and stars did not reach here. But the wolf's white fur seemed to have trapped moonbeams. Starsky could see him walking on ahead, and continued to follow.

The wolf led him on, deeper and deeper into the cave. The dark enclosing walls gave way, and Starsky found himself in a great chamber. A faint light emanated from the water and the spires of stone that rose from the floor and hung from the ceiling. What were they called? Stalagmites, or something.

There was a large pool in the centre of the underground chamber. Steam rose from the water. Starsky couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed a bath. He stripped his clothes off quickly, and dove into the hot water. He gasped as the heat welcomed him. It was almost painful, but there was pleasure mixed with the pain, just as in the sex he liked best. He used the sand on the bottom of the pool to scrub away the filth of the last year.

He stood up, and looked down at his naked body. He was thin, frighteningly so. But he was alive, and he would go on living. Hutch was near. They had each other, if nothing else, and no one else.

'Hutch,' he whispered.

Strong arms encircled him. 'I'm here. What's wrong?'

'Nothing. I want you.'

'Let me suck your cock?'

'You can do anything you want.'

Starsky lay back on the sand by the pool, and Hutch bent over him. He took Starsky's cock in his mouth, swallowing it to the very base, in that wonderful way that only Hutch had ever been able to do for him. Starsky writhed under Hutch's caresses, pleading for more. Pleading to be owned. He poured his seed down Hutch's throat, and heard Hutch moan as he welcomed his lover's heat. Pleasure and pain.

********************************

'Hutch?'

'Yes, neshomeleh?'

'Let's come back here, after we leave the others.'

'If you want.'

'I'm not ready for fighting the Nazis. I need to be with you. I feel strong here.'

'That pool is probably therapeutic.'

'Very. I didn't think I'd ever have another erection.'

Hutch smiled and kissed him. 'I knew you would,' he said.

'You could teach me more about fighting. How to hunt.'

'You don't mind eating food that isn't kosher?'

Starsky laughed at their old joke. 'Your cock isn't kosher, and I've swallowed that. I draw the line at pork chops, though.'

'Starsky? You said you weren't choosing me over your brother. You seemed to imply that I was the better man. But I'm not. I keep telling you I've done terrible things.'

'You admit it.'

'That makes such a difference?'

'Yes.'

'I see. I think. How did you find your way back here, anyway?'

'A wolf led me.'

Hutchinson sat up and stared down at Starsky. 'A wolf?' he asked, blankly. 'A white wolf?'

'Yes.'

Hutchinson laughed. 'I thought only I could see the wolf. It guards the pass. That's how I knew that Nick could not escape and lead the Nazis here. But it's accepted you. I wonder what that means.'

'Perhaps that we really are one soul.'

Starsky heard a soft whine from the other side of the pool. He looked up, and met the dark, wolf eyes. They gazed back into his, without blinking. Then the white wolf slipped silently out of the chamber of stalagmites, back toward the cave entrance, as if to take up its guardianship, again.

*** The End ***

Links Forward and Back

White Wolf Series Homepage