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"Get out of here."
It wasn't "goodbye," no matter how desperately Hutch wanted it to be. There were so many things he needed to tell Starsky, things from his heart, words about life and partnership and love... but looking into his partner's anguished eyes, Hutch knew he couldn't say them, not out loud.
"It's always harder for the one left behind."
It was the gospel truth. Hutch had known that when he'd said it, back when Starsky had been poisoned, and he knew it now. The pain in his chest, crushing though it was, was no match for what he'd felt when Starsky was dying. The only thing that had kept him going then was hope—the chance, however slim, of finding an antidote.
Hope. A reason to keep going. That was all he could give Starsky now.
"Get out there, roam the streets and check the sewers, hop in the holes...." he gasped out.
Even from behind the mask and gown, Starsky's distress was palpable but he obeyed, his gloved hands reluctantly pulling away from Hutch's. Hutch closed his eyes as Starsky left, determined to keep the words in his heart hidden away, unspoken.
I love you. Goodbye, Starsk.