December 22nd- Zebra Three by DPPatricks

Author’s Note: Mostly canon characters in a somewhat non-canonical pre-series gen story.

Harold Dobey didn’t think he’d ever been any more nervous in his life than he was at this moment. He had been working on the chief’s project for weeks and had only just that morning decided on his first recommendation. He knew his superior wouldn’t be happy with it though, and his stomach was knotted.

When Janice, the secretary who had served three chiefs in a row, received a buzz on her phone, she nodded to him to go ahead in. He smiled as phony a smile as he’d probably ever dumped on anyone, rose to his feet, straightened his shoulders, and opened the door.

Mark Sawyer stood to meet him and held out his hand. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Harold. I hope Janice didn’t give you the impression it was an emergency.”

“No, sir.” Dobey took the firm, dry hand and returned the steady grip. “I was about to head in this direction anyway.”

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow. “My project?”

“Yes, sir.” Dobey studied the tall, graying-at-the-temples brown-haired, dark-eyed man in front of him. Sawyer had gone through the academy in the class behind him but they’d been friends ever since Elmo Jackson’s murder. It was Sawyer and his partner who had worked the case of Jackson’s disappearance. Against department policy, as soon as they heard about a body at the meat plant, Sawyer had called Dobey and asked if he wanted to go. The three of them had found Elmo. Sawyer’s partner had tossed his cookies in a corner and quit the force the following day. Sawyer had requested Dobey as his new partner and had gotten him.

The chief sat down, his still-lean, athletic frame conforming to the high-backed chair as if it belonged there, as Dobey believed it did. Sawyer was a year younger but his career had moved faster, once they’d made lieutenant and been assigned to different precincts. They’d always kept in touch though, and had an admiration and respect for each other that Dobey did his best to guard and perpetuate. Trying to hide his unease, he took a seat in the nearest guest chair.

“Edith’s either feeding you too well or you’re not spending enough time in the police gym.” Sawyer’s discerning eye landed on Dobey’s unbuttoned jacket and the belt that he’d had to let out a notch only that morning.

“Both,” Dobey admitted and the chief laughed.

Sawyer rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his long fingers. “Have you made any headway?”

Dobey crossed his knees just as Janice, after a brief knock, brought in two large cups of coffee, handed one to each of the men, and left. Dobey took a sip of the strong, reviving brew and felt his nerves loosen a little. “Now I know one of the reasons why none of your predecessors replaced her.”

Sawyer nodded agreement and drank half the contents of his cup before setting it down. “Enough palaver, my friend. I know I gave you a tough assignment but if I didn’t think you were up to the task, I’d have found somebody else.”

Dobey lifted his cup in a gesture of appreciation. “Yes, sir, it’s been –”

“I’ve told you about this before, Harold.” Sawyer sounded slightly miffed. “When we’re in private, I need you to call me Mark. We’ve been through too much to stand on ceremony.”

“Yes, sir… uh, Mark.”

“We both know the only reason I’m in this chair instead of you is because I’m white and you’re not.” The chief stared at him, unblinking.

Dobey felt himself flush. Neither of them had ever spoken about race but it was there none the less, always a card someone was willing to play. Yes, Captain Sawyer had been selected to fill the vacant chair instead of Dobey and Dobey knew his skin color had been part of the reason. Dobey also knew it had been the right decision. He raised his cup again in a silent salute. “Maybe when you’re ready to retire, they’ll be ready for me.” He shrugged. “If I haven’t already retired, myself.”

“They will if I have anything to say about it.” Sawyer picked up his cup again. “But you’re dodging the question.”

Dobey finished his coffee and put the mug on the edge of the desk before settling back. “I’ve studied the file of every detective in the department.”

“No simple chore.” Sawyer finished his own coffee and without putting the cup down lifted the phone. “More coffee, please, Janice.”

Moments later, Janice came in and, again silently, refilled each of their cups from a half-full pot. Dropping a hot pad on the desk, she placed a fresh, full carafe on top of it. Smiling this time, she retreated and closed the door softly behind her.

Sawyer sipped, sighed, and finally put the mug down. “I swear that woman’s a treasure.”

Dobey took another swallow himself. “No argument.”

“Damn, we keep getting sidetracked.” Sawyer laced his fingers. “Talk to me. Are you even close to finding your Zebra One unit?”

Dobey shook his head. “I’ve decided not to use Zebra One or Zebra Two as designations.”

The chief sat back, clearly surprised. “May I ask why?”

“Zebra One sounds too much like a top dog and I don’t want a single team thinking they outrank, or are more important than any of the others.”

“That makes sense. But Zebra Two?”

“Sounds like the also-ran. The second string.” Dobey gave the next sentence his full resolve. “My first team will be Zebra Three.”

Sawyer considered for a few seconds. “So be it. And I can tell you have specific officers in mind.”

“Yes, sir, I do.” Dobey paused, already knowing he was going to get flak. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Spit it out, Harold. You know I trust your judgment.”

“Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson.”

Sawyer nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee he was swallowing. “Are you outta your mind?”

Dobey actually relaxed a little more; the worst was over, hopefully. “Tell me what your objections are.”

“Starsky’s a loose cannon! Sure, he’s got an arrest and conviction record any officer’d covet but he can’t hold onto a partner! I think he’s had twelve or something like that. He works alone now, helps out with other teams’ cases in any precinct. He patrols most of the entire city even though, officially, he’s supposed to stay in the Third.”

“Did you know his father was a cop in New York?”

“No, I don’t think I did.”

“Gunned down when Starsky was twelve.” Dobey drank more nerve-strengthening coffee. “There was confusion and quite a few rumors after a crime figure named Joe Durniak paid for the funeral.”

“Interesting.” The chief’s tone was non-judgmental. “And you think Starsky’s trying to erase that… smudge by being a supercop? Make anyone who’s heard the rumor question it? Or, better yet, forget it completely?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Dobey finished his coffee, got up and topped off the chief’s cup from the fresh pot, re-filled his own, and sat back down.

Sawyer nodded his thanks. “Okay. You’ve given me cause to revise my thinking about why Starsky behaves the way he does. But why would you pair him with Hutchinson? He’s a loser.”

Dobey found himself slightly offended, even though he wasn’t sure why. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it? He may not have the arrest record Starsky has but I wouldn’t use that term.”

Sawyer put his cup down and reconsidered. “You’re right. It’s just that, from everything I’ve heard, or read, he won’t ever amount to anything. He takes no initiative, never does more than absolutely necessary. He was lackluster at the academy, managed to avoid any desperate screw-ups in uniform, and was invited to take the detective’s exam only because we needed to fill the ranks after that rash of serious injuries and early retirements.” The chief narrowed his eyes. “He can’t keep a partner, either, you know. Not before he got his shield, or after.”

Dobey was prepared for that one. “I’ve read all the transfer requests and they fall into the same category: damned for his looks. ‘Too pretty,’ some say, ‘no backbone.’ I read one comment that claimed, ‘Everybody on the street eats him alive because they think he’s a three-dollar bill. And he won’t even stand up for himself!’” Dobey shrugged and bore down on his next words. “I have found no evidence whatsoever to substantiate that veiled innuendo, Mark. And if my personal investigation is correct, none of his partners has ever given him the benefit of the doubt. They believe he’s weak, so they treat him like a weakling.”

The chief did what Dobey knew he would: considered what he’d been told. “I hadn’t heard the rumor that he’s gay. Isn’t he married?”

“Yes.” Dobey took another swallow of coffee before continuing, not sure if he should address the issue. Another gulp. Oh well, in for a penny… “And, in my opinion, she’s part of the problem.”

“Explain that one, please.”

“Edith and I attended one of the social functions she apparently enjoys helping to organize, on an evening when I knew Hutchinson wouldn’t be there.”

“Did you manage to arrange that?” The chief’s tone was sarcastic.

“No, sir. That was pure happenstance.”

“Tell me about her.”

Dobey tried to think of how to phrase his conclusions without sounding too judgmental. “After we got home, Edith and I talked about everything we’d seen and heard, and her opinion of the woman is, if possible, worse than mine.”

“Women can usually tell about other women.” Sawyer kept a straight face.

Dobey was greatly relieved that the chief seemed willing to listen with an open mind. “Mrs. Hutchinson didn’t once, in our hearing, mention her husband voluntarily. And when she was asked about him, she used the most derogatory, demeaning terms you can imagine, none of which will I repeat. The gist though, was that he’d given up a promising career in medicine to be a cop!” Dobey stared straight at his superior. “Believe me, the venom dripped from that single word. Vanessa Hutchinson is an emasculator. Her husband gets no support, understanding, or encouragement from that quarter when it comes to his job.”

“His own wife and all his former partners believe he’s the word I used before. But you have a different opinion, I take it?”

“Let me tell you a story.” Dobey hitched forward to the front edge of his chair, his elbows on his knees, his cup in his hands. “Remember, three years ago, when I took the ‘housemother’ assignment at the academy rather than disability after that TA?”

“Damn jackass!” Sawyer exclaimed. “The guy should be doing time right now instead of the final year of his community service.”

“I agree, but he had a great lawyer. My leg was shattered, my driver ended up with early retirement and I was offered the pleasure of babysitting that fall’s class of recruits. Wouldn’t give me a teaching gig either because they thought I couldn’t get around well enough to handle that bunch of rowdies.”

“You got a raw deal.”

Dobey shrugged. “Better than a desk in R an’ I for the rest of my career. At least being at the academy allowed me to get my leg back in shape.” He sipped more coffee. “Orientation Day, as you know, is always pretty crazy but that morning I saw something I’d never seen before.”

“This is gonna be good, I can tell.”

Dobey sat back, realizing that his friend was listening without being pressured. “I was standing at the top of the steps, trying not to lean too heavily on my cane, greeting each of the recruits as he or she went through the front door.”

Sawyer smiled. “I remember the role and duties of ‘Ma Hen.’”

Dobey grimaced and mentally brushed the comment aside, not wanting to be distracted. “A hopeful cadet with dark, curly hair was in the middle of a bunch of guys coming up the stairs. They were laughing and punching each other, probably trying to cover any outward nervousness.”

The chief’s eyes lost focus for a moment as he was plainly remembering something. “I think I was in the same kind of group on my first day.”

“Trying to watch everybody, I noticed a tall, lanky blond hurrying up the stairs behind Laughing Guys. This kid looked like he’d just stepped off the plane from Sweden. Or Norway. One of those northern European countries, anyway.”

“I get the picture.”

“Well, he tripped. And, faster than I would have thought possible, Curly spun, shoved between two guys, reached out both hands, and caught the tall blond. It couldn’t have been easy, steadying that much forward-momentum weight without losing his own balance. Might have been a serious spill for both of them; those are unforgiving steps.”

“You are talking about Starsky and Hutchinson, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“If Starsky had his back to Hutchinson, laughing with his friends, how did he even know he’d stumbled?”

“Good question.” Dobey shook his head. “But one I can’t answer. Corner of his eye? Instinct? Superlative hearing? To this day, I have no idea.”

“But you saw it. Starsky saved Hutchinson from a potentially serious fall.”

“Yes.” Dobey drank more coffee before continuing. “That wasn’t the important part though.”

“Go on.” Sawyer was definitely interested now.

“Starsky helped this man he’d almost certainly never seen before over to the staircase wall and sat him down. Most of the other recruits had filed inside, leaving only a few stragglers. No one seemed interested in a Good Samaritan and the subject of his rescue. I moved down to where I was close enough to listen. I didn’t want to interfere but I was fascinated to hear what these two strangers would say to each other after that kind of introduction.”

“And…?”

“Starsky crouched in front of Hutchinson and said something like, ‘You okay, buddy?’ Then he put his hand on the blond’s forehead, even though Hutchinson had weakly tried to wave it away. ‘Hey!’ Starsky said. ‘You’re burning up! You should be in a hospital!’

“I could see that Hutchinson’s face was flushed, he was sweating and all hunched over as if he was in pain but he shook his head violently. ‘No! I have to register. I need to get to Orientation! Let me go!’ He tried to get up but Starsky held him down easily, his hands on Hutchinson’s forearms.

“‘Answer a question!’ Starsky held Hutchinson’s gaze like a magnet holds iron filings. ‘Are you in pain? Lower right quadrant of your belly?’ I could see that Hutchinson wanted to deny it but any fool could tell that Starsky had hit the nail on the head. Maybe not about the exact location but, for sure, about the pain.”

“I wondered why he didn’t come through the academy with Starsky. I know they’re the same age.” A look of sudden understanding crossed the chief’s face. “It was appendicitis?”

“Sure was.”

“But how did Starsky know?”

“I’m getting to that.” Dobey drank more coffee and gathered his thoughts. “Starsky let go of Hutchinson’s right arm and lightly pressed his knuckles into the blond’s stomach on the right side. Hutchinson let out a strangled cry before he slumped off the wall. And Starsky caught him again, this time in his arms.”

“You’re killin’ me here, Harold! How come I’ve never heard about any of this?”

Dobey shrugged. “To my knowledge, it never made it into anyone’s report because Hutchinson didn’t register that day.”

“So, what happened?” The chief had forgotten about his cooling coffee; he didn’t take his eyes off Dobey.

“Instead of shoving Hutchinson away, Starsky cradled him and yelled over his shoulder, ‘Call an ambulance! Acute appendicitis here! This man needs to get to a hospital now!’ I grabbed the arm of a recruit who was standing beside me and shook him out of whatever fugue state he was in. ‘You heard the man,’ I said, ‘get inside and make the call. That ambulance needs to be here ten minutes ago!’ I don’t even remember which one of the cadets I shouted at but he ran, presumably to follow my order.”

“After that?” Sawyer appeared mesmerized.

“I ignored my screaming leg and squatted down next to Starsky. ‘Help’s on the way, fellas.’ I didn’t know what else to say but Hutchinson was shaking his head, trying to move away from Starsky’s support, attempting to sit up. ‘No! I can’t go to the hospital! I need to get registered. I quit pre-med so I could be a cop! My family will probably disinherit me and my wife’ll divorce me but I have to do this!’

“Starsky forcibly drew Hutchinson back against his chest and gently brushed the hair out of his eyes. ‘Not today, Blondie. You were in med school and you don’t recognize the symptoms of what you’ve got?’”

Dobey stared into the intense eyes of his friend and chief. “I’ll tell you, Mark, I couldn’t have left those two guys at that point if my life had depended on it.”

“I hear you.” Sawyer swallowed cold coffee and didn’t even blink.

“I sat on the step beside them and stretched out my aching leg while Hutchinson forced words out from between his clenched teeth. ‘I’ve been telling myself since yesterday that it’s only a stomach ache. Guess I knew better but, for some reason, I felt like I just had to be here today. Had to register for this session! It’s important somehow!’

“I reached across Starsky and put a hand lightly on Hutchinson’s shoulder. ‘Nothing’s more important than your life and health, son.’ He looked at me and reluctantly nodded his understanding.

“I moved my hand to Starsky’s arm then and got his attention. ‘How do you know so much?’ He shrugged, rubbing Hutchinson’s shoulder in a comforting gesture and damned if the blond didn’t seem to relax a little! ‘My Uncle Al nearly died,’ Starsky explained, ‘because he wouldn’t believe me and Aunt Rose when we told him what was wrong with him. He put off going to the E.R. until his appendix burst and we damn near lost him.’ I saw Hutchinson shudder and Starsky held him closer. His voice took on an almost crooning quality. ‘Help’s comin’, buddy, just hang on.’”

Dobey refilled his cup from the cooling pot but when he lifted it in Sawyer’s direction, the chief shook his head. Dobey put the pot down and sat back. “I could hear the siren by that time and started moving everyone who had gathered around out of the way. Not paying any attention to me, Starsky kept up his soothing assurances. ‘You’re gonna be okay. Just relax. You can learn to be a cop next term. Don’t worry, the academy’ll still be here. It ain’t goin’ nowhere.’”

Dobey took a deep breath; relating the story had brought all the intense memories back. “The ambulance attendants arrived and loaded Hutchinson onto the gurney. As they lifted him, he raised his hand and caught Starsky’s. Rather than shake it off, Starsky walked down the stairs beside him. ‘I don’t know your name,’ Hutchinson said. I saw Starsky squeeze the hand he held when he answered, ‘Dave Starsky.’ ‘Ken Hutchinson,’ the blond responded. They had to let go of each other when they got to the ambulance but Starsky called after the stretcher as it was loaded inside, ‘I’ll wait for ya. Once we’re detectives, we’ll be partners.’”

Sawyer’s eyes widened. “You heard Starsky say that? They’d be partners?”

“I did.”

The chief shook his head. “But it didn’t happen.”

“Not yet.” Dobey crossed his knees again, all his nervousness behind him. “Starsky and John Colby were best pals and pains in everyone’s ass, but then Colby bailed out and Starsky’s had no one to reel him in since. Could never find a partner that suited him, always pushed the regs, tested how far outside the lines he could go before being dragged back. Hutchinson, on the other hand, has been spinning his wheels, looking for direction but not finding it.”

“And you think they’ll be able to work together.” The chief did not sound convinced.

“You weren’t there that day, Mark. You didn’t see them. There was an… a connection. I don’t know how else to describe it.” He knew his confidence was spilling over into Sawyer’s space. “Yes, sir, I’m sure. You asked me to put together a unit of teams who can work every kind of case and I want to begin with Starsky and Hutchinson.”

The chief sat back. “Okay. You don’t need my permission, I gave you carte blanche. But I am going to be interested to watch the fireworks.”

“I don’t think there’ll be too many of those, sir. Starsky’s going to give Hutchinson the support, encouragement and trust none of his other partners, or his wife, have been able or willing to give. And Hutchinson’s going to keep Starsky’s feet on the ground. You watch; theirs will be the best partnership this department’s ever seen.”

Dobey opened his door a crack so that he could see and hear what went on in the small two-chair waiting area he’d had set up outside his office. Starsky and Hutchinson had been summoned for their initial meeting with him and he wanted to eavesdrop on what he believed would be their first encounter since that day on the academy steps, before he called them in.

Starsky arrived early, swaggering up the hallway as if he owned the place. The curly hair was longer than Dobey remembered, in direct violation of department regulations, as Dobey knew Starsky was aware. The jeans were rattier and tighter and, combined with the red t-shirt and worn bomber jacket, it was an outfit suitable only for certain kinds of undercover work. Dobey was pretty sure Starsky was aware of that, too. Casually checking the number on the wall next to Dobey’s door, Starsky plopped down in one of the chairs. He was projecting an air of unconcern but Dobey sensed bridled tension.

Not more than a minute later, Hutchinson walked around the corner. His hair was regulation-short and he was neat and very trim in tan cords, light blue long-sleeved shirt, and brown hip-length leather coat. He was a fine figure of a Metro detective but his step was tentative until he caught sight of Starsky slumped in the chair. When their eyes locked onto each other, an amazing transformation took place in both sets of features: Hutchinson’s face brightened and Starsky’s softened. It was as if each had been waiting years for this moment. Dobey sucked in a breath he hoped hadn’t been audible as he realized that’s exactly what he was seeing.

Starsky stood up and, with no hesitation on either man’s part, they threw their arms around each other in the middle of the hallway. Uniformed and plain clothes officers walked around them, a few casting disapproving looks, some smiling, others ignoring them, until the pair broke apart.

Hutchinson dropped his hands from Starsky’s arms and stepped back, glancing around as if suddenly embarrassed. He nodded toward Dobey’s slightly open door. “You, too?”

“Yeah.” Starsky sat in one of the chairs and patted the seat next to him.

Hutch sat and Dobey had to strain to catch his next words. “You saved my life that day.” He glanced sideways at Starsky. “You know that, right?”

Starsky considered for a few seconds. “The way I see it, I may have saved both of our lives.”

“Excuse me?” Hutchinson was definitely surprised. “After the surgery, the doc told me if I’d been an hour later showing up in the E.R., I might not have made it. And you’re solely responsible for my ending up there when I did.”

Starsky shrugged. “Okay, maybe I got you there three years ago so that you could show up here today. And today you’ll be saving my life.”

Hutchinson shook his head. “You’ve lost me.”

“They say I’m a loose cannon, Hutch. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. My call sign’s ‘Wild Card.’ I go off half-cocked all the time, get myself and anyone who’s with me into all kinds of trouble. Nobody’ll partner with me and I think the brass wouldn’t mind giving me the boot.”

“How is my being here going to help, Starsky? I’m a loser as far as the department’s concerned. I know you’ve heard those stories.”

Starsky’s nod was unmistakably reluctant.

Hutchinson clasped his hands in his lap. “My so-called colleagues are convinced I’m a wimp, that I don’t have the stones to be on the street. And for some reason I can’t work up the energy to refute the allegations. My wife’s about ready to divorce me and I can’t keep a partner, either.” His shoulders slumped.

Starsky put a hand on the blond’s arm and when Hutchinson looked at him, Starsky drilled him with intensity. “I’ll bet you remember that day as clearly as I do.”

“I’ll bet I do, too.”

“I told you we’d be partners and, consciously or otherwise, I believe we’ve each been waiting for that to happen. You’ve been waiting for a kick in the slats from me and I’ve been waiting for you to settle me down.” He smiled around his dead serious gaze. “We’re meant for each other, buddy. I’ve got the street smarts, you’ve got the intelligence, the pers… persp…”

“Perspective?”

“More. Longer, a real twenty-five cent word.”

“Perspicacity?”

Starsky beamed. “See?”

Hutch glanced up and down the hall. “You think that’s what this is about? Captain Dobey’s going to let us be partners?”

Starsky’s nod was emphatic. “It’s gotta be about the new Zebra Units.”

“What new Zebra Units?”

“Where ya been, Blondie?” Starsky punched Hutchinson’s arm lightly. “Word’s gotten around that Chief Sawyer asked Dobey to put together some special teams to investigate high-profile cases.”

“High profile?” Hutchinson jumped up, appearing ready to bolt.

Starsky stood up and put a hand on his arm. “Easy, partner. I’ve been hoping for this. You and me, together, finally. It’s meant, Hutch, I’m sure of it.”

Hutchinson appeared to fall into Starsky’s eyes, needing to believe so badly it was almost palpable. Dobey felt like a voyeur.

Hutchinson tore himself away from the hand and gaze and moved across the hall to the alcove that housed a vending machine. Digging coins out of his pocket, he plugged them into the slot, bent and pulled a handle. What dropped into the tray though, was clearly not what he’d wanted. He reached down, picked up the offending item and looked at Starsky, speechless.

Starsky sauntered over to him, a smug smile on his expressive face. “Bet you wanted that new granola thing.”

“Damn right I did! And look what I got! A Milky Way! If I’d wanted unadulterated calories with zero food value –”

Starsky grabbed the confection. “There’s actually quite a lot of nutrition in one of these. There’s peanuts for protein, caramel and chocolate for –”

Hutchinson grabbed it back. “Like I said, zero food value.”

Starsky dug what Dobey thought were probably two quarters out of his pocket and handed them to Hutchinson, gently taking the candy bar. “I’ll trade ya. And, being as I’m such a nice guy, and soon to be your partner, I’ll give you a little hint.” He stood back and appraised the candy dispenser that was taller than he was. “The guy who services the machines here in the Ninth is evidently the same one that does ours in the Third. And he’s a wiseass. When he thinks no one’s looking, he fills the shelves that are supposed to deliver the new granola bars with Milky Ways. If someone actually wants one of those, they’d have to pull the handle for Almond Joy. Now,” he turned to Hutchinson, “since you want a healthy snack, I’d suggest you try the Baby Ruth.”

Starsky wandered back to the chairs and sat down, beginning to open the dark brown wrapper. He stared across the hall at Hutchinson, who hadn’t moved. “Go on, Hutch. Pull the knob for the Baby Ruth.” When the blond still didn’t move, Starsky dropped everything but sincerity from his voice. “Trust me.”

With those two words, Hutchinson visibly relaxed. He turned to the vending machine, inserted the coins and without hesitating, pulled the lever below the window displaying the red-and-white wrapper. Into the tray dropped a granola bar.

Hutchinson bent and retrieved it. Turning to Starsky, his face broke into the most room-lighting smile Dobey had ever seen. “Thanks, Starsk.”

Having witnessed more than enough to confirm his thoughts and feelings, Dobey pulled his door fully open. Starsky stood up and turned. Hutchinson moved forward and, shoulder to shoulder, they waited.

Dobey had a difficult time keeping satisfaction off his face as he put on a deliberately gruff tone. “Starsky! Hutchinson! My office!”

Where does love begin?
With instinct, connection, trust,
And full partnership

End Note: I’m a bit anachronistic with granola bars in 1972 but I hope it’s an acceptable ‘mistake.’