December 18th- A Hallmark Christmas for Starsky and Hutch Part 1 by M Vernet

Author’s Note: Come on. Admit it. You’ve all watched those Hallmark Channel Christmas Romance movies. Whether they make you sigh, or make you laugh, or make you chuck popcorn at your romance deficient partner, we all wish to see Starsky and Hutch up there on the screen with the happy snowflakes melting on their lashes and the holiday kisses on the ice rink, right?

This is an AU romantic fantasy, where Starsky and Hutch meet in a different way than canon.

“Come on, Captain Nolan, you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, I’m quite serious, Starsky and you are definitely the man for the job. Besides, it’s your turn.”

Detective Second Class, Dave Starsky of Bay City Vice Squad slumped in the chair opposite his captain’s desk. He knew he didn’t stand a chance of getting out of this assignment, but he had to give it the old Starsky try.

“I know it’s my turn. I’m all for holiday charity and what not. But Cap. This… this event. It’s not me.”

“Nonsense! What could be more exciting than a charity ice show?”

Captain Nolan stood and came out from behind his desk. His eyes were wide with anticipation and he waved his hand at an imaginary marquee. “Cops on Ice!”

Starsky cringed as his Captain effused. “Surely, you’re jokin’!

“What could be more exciting than Bay City’s finest dressed in holiday tights and sequins, skating their hearts out to a sold out crowd! And don’t call me Shirley.”

“Jeez, Cap. Tone it down a little. I think you’ve been in Vice too long.”

“Starsky, I can see it now. The arena lights dim and a cop blue spotlight appears on center, where a gold shield glimmers beneath the ice. Our star skater floats in, his arms in arabesque, fluttery sleeves catching the air, head held high. The music starts and he circles the ice and performs a perfect camel.”

“He does what with a camel?”

“Then he is joined by his brothers in blue… tights… in a slam bang finale to an extravaganza on ice!”  

Starsky jumped to his feet and grabbed his captain’s arms before he twirled himself around the office.

“Listen to me, Cap. I’m Brooklyn born, but California bred. I know nothing about skatin’ on ice. Give me a skateboard and I’ll skate my ass off. I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I’m really not the man for this job.”

“Nonsense, you always do excellent work. You’ll be great.”

“Cap, you want a Christmas show, right? I’m Jewish!”

The captain clapped his hands. “Fantastic! We’ll do a tribute to Hanukkah too! Maybe a few tunes from Fiddler on the Roof! Sunriiiise. Suuunset. Sunriiiise…”

“Captain! Control yourself! I tell ya, you can’t make me do it!”

Captain Nolan placed his hands on Starsky’s shoulders. “Starsky, you are a good cop. I appreciate that you care more about bringing criminals to justice than getting ahead by playing politics. But if you do this, I can see to it that you get your Detective First Class. The commissioner likes his detectives to show some community spirit, volunteer work and such. A successful charity show will win you that upgrade for sure.”

Starsky sat back down and cradled his head in his hands. He took a moment to compose himself. He knew he could probably organize a show. Since he started working Vice, he often helped out at the shelters during the holidays organizing dinners and a little entertainment for the patrons. And once a month he emceed an open mic talent show at his friend’s Huggy’s bar. He could use that promotion, and although he liked his captain and the team at Vice, he was really interested in moving upstairs to Homicide. He sighed. The captain had him by the short hairs.

Starsky leaned back in the office chair and slowly nodded his head. “Okay, Cap. I’ll give it a shot. My friend, Huggy Brown, knows all about entertainment in this town. I’ll ask him some advice to get me headed in the right direction.”

“Oh, wonderful, my boy! You won’t regret it. It will be so much fun.”

The captain went back to his desk and took out a folder. “I have a list of possible skaters here. These guys all hail from northern climes. But there is one Homicide detective that could be our star. Kenneth Hutchinson, Detective First Class. He’s from Duluth, Minnesota. He transferred to Bay City’s finest about a year ago. Says in his file he was part of the elite Duluth ice skating rescue squad working Lake Superior. This guy’s record is exemplary. He has more commendations for bravery than our whole squad. College boy, cerebral, real Sherlock Holmes type. Plus, he’s simply gorgeous.”

Captain Nolan placed a newspaper clipping on his desk facing Starsky, who stood and took it in his hand to examine it. It was a picture of two men on skates on the shore of a snow-covered lake, beaming at each other. The shorter Asian man had an arm placed firmly on a tall blond’s shoulder. The blond was holding a little girl bundled in a pink snowsuit. The caption read, Duluth’s own skating detectives, Hutchinson, (right) and Kim, (left) save the life of little Amy Finn.

Starsky looked over Hutchinson, the tall blond, and he had to admit his captain was right. He whistled. “Wowser, what a looker. He married?”

The captain checked his file. “Huh, doesn’t say.” The captain added sotto voce, “Guess he’s available then.”

Starsky stared at the captivating image of Detective Hutchinson. Even in black and white, his beautiful, handsome face lit up the page. He looked like an angel fallen from heaven to give joy to the earthbound. Starsky imagined him under a spotlight, his long legs covered in spandex and maybe wearing a golden tunic. He began to sweat.

“Does his file say why he transferred?”

“No, maybe he got tired of being cold.”

Starsky smiled wistfully. “I think this guy could thaw the arctic ice cap with his smile.”

“Starsky? You with me?” The captain smirked up at him.

“Oh, yeah, Cap. Yeah. Just makin’ plans.”

The captain rubbed his hands together in glee. “Go get ‘im, Tiger.”

Starsky returned the photo and gave his captain a half-assed salute as he left. He entered the bull pen and the crew looked up, ready to harass him.

Starsky held up a warning finger and waggled it. “One word and you all will be on the ice wearing pink polka dot tutus, skating to Tghe Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies.”

Starsky only heard good natured laughter as he exited on his way upstairs to Homicide.

Starsky stopped at the glass door marked Homicide Department and peeked in. The Homicide squad room was much more sedate than Vice’s bullpen. Most of the desks were pushed together in twos to accommodate partners. Vice didn’t have a partner system since a lot of the work was undercover. You worked alone, trusting the team to have your back if you called them in.

Starsky spotted Jake Simmons and Hank Babcock facing each other over their cluttered desks. Babcock nodding absently while writing up a report and Simmons was ranting about something or other. Starsky had worked with them before when Homicide was called in to take over a case gone tragically wrong. Starsky liked Babcock right off. The soft spoken family man always lent a kind word and a helping hand to the Vice guys.

Simmons was loud and abrasive and Starsky wondered how Babcock could stand working with him. Until the day Starsky was on the scene at a drug bust where Hank Babcock had been shot. Starsky would always remember the pleading, helpless look in Simmons’ eye as he rushed to his partner’s side and rocked him in his arms, speaking gentle words of encouragement while holding his jacket against his partner’s wound. Starsky thought Simmons was an okay guy afterwards and wondered what it would be like to have a work partner who you loved that much.

Babcock’s desk had a cluster of family photos and a macaroni-covered, tin can pencil holder on one side, and Simmons had a souvenir hockey puck and a plastic owl bank perched on his. One single desk by the window stood out because of its tidiness and lack of personal items. This desk looked empty except for some finished paperwork in the out basket, a pencil, and a leather varsity jacket hanging from the back of the chair.

Captain Dobey’s door opened and a blond came out holding a stack of files. He pulled out the chair at the lone desk and sat down, immediately opening the top file.

Starsky recognized Hutchinson from his picture. But the detective appeared to have changed. He was still a beautiful blond, but he seemed hunched over with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was thinner. He looked like someone who was recovering from a long illness. The easy smile was absent from the pale face. Starsky had the urge to grab the guy and take him for a walk on the beach. The image flashed in his mind of a golden mostly naked body glowing in the sun, but it didn’t match with the somber, winter-worn man before him.

Starsky pushed open the door and stopped to greet the partners.

“Hello, Dave. Nice to see you again,” said Babcock pleasantly.

“Hey, Starsky,” said Simmons, “How’s it hangin’?”

“A little to the left, Simmons, You? Hey, Hank. How’s the wife and kiddies?”

“Got another on the way, due December 25th, more or less.”

Starsky grabbed Babcock’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Hank, that’s great. Congrats.”

“Yeah,“ added Simmons. “I’m hoping the kid holds out for January. Or I’ll have to spring for two gifts for the little ankle-biter. You’re making me go broke with all these Babcock juniors. What number is this one, twelve?”

“Shut it, partner. Or I’ll tell the missus I changed my mind about naming my third child after you.”

Starsky chuckled as Simmons leaned back with a self-satisfied smile, silenced by his partner’s gentle jab.

“What can we help you with, Dave?” asked Babcock.

“Well, actually I’m here to see Detective Hutchinson.”

Babcock nodded and made the introductions across the room.

“Ken? This is Detective Dave Starsky from Vice. He wants to talk to you.”

Hutchinson looked up from his file. He pierced Starsky with an appraising look. “Detective Starsky.”

Hutchinson didn’t offer his hand. His demeanor was as cold as his ice blue eyes.

Starsky froze under that gaze. “Um, yeah, well, Detective Hutchinson. I… uh…” Starsky cleared his throat and tried again. “See the thing is that my captain put me in charge of the Christmas charity show this year and… ummm…”

Hutchinson shifted in his chair. “What? I missed giving a donation? I’m fairly new here, you know. Hank, how much do you usually give?”

Babcock shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Ken. Vice usually gives a show and sells tickets.”

“Oh. Well, how about I give you a donation instead. I’m not much into Christmas pageants.”

Hutchinson reached for his wallet and Starsky waved his hand. “Nononono! I don’t need any money from you. My captain wants to put on a holiday ice show and we found out you are an expert skater from the hinterlands. I thought maybe you’d like to help out. It’s called, Cops on Ice. Catchy, huh? Whatta ya say, Hutch?”

Simmons began to laugh. “Cops on Ice? An ice show? Starsky you have got to be on something.”

Babcock kicked Simmons under the desk and glared at him. Simmons turned a puzzled face towards his partner. Then his eyes opened wide with understanding. ”Oh, shit,” he said quietly.

Hutchinson jumped to his feet. “You think this is funny, Detective Starsky? Who put you up to this? I don’t appreciate this adolescent behavior. I’m no rookie to be hazed. I’ve done my time. I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’m a professional and I do my job. I suggest you learn to do the same. And where do you get off calling me ‘Hutch’? Nobody calls me Hutch. Nobody but my… partner. Get out of my way, Detective.”

Hutch grabbed his jacket and gave Starsky a shove. He stormed out the door slamming it so hard the glass rattled and threatened to break.

Starsky stared after him.

“What the hell happened? If he didn’t want to help out, he could have just said no.”

Babcock jumped up when Hutchinson shoved Starsky, ready to step in. He placed a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Dave. Ken Hutchinson has a… problem.”

“Ohhh,” said Starsky. He raised a few fingers to his lips mimicking sipping from a bottle of booze. “He’s got a drinking problem?”

“No,” said Simmons. “He’s got a skating problem.”

Babcock sat on the edge of Simmons’ desk and continued. “Ken came to us from an elite skating rescue team in Duluth. He was very close to his partner, Joon Kim. One night they got got a call out. A liquor store robbery. The clerk was killed and the perp put on skates then took off on the ice of Lake Superior. The temperatures were in the single digits. Kim was the first to get to him, but the guy fell through a crack in the ice and pulled Detective Kim in with him. Hutchinson was frantic, but managed to pull the perp and Kim out of the freezing water. The perp made it. Kim didn’t.

“Hutchinson almost died himself of pneumonia after Kim’s funeral. When he was released from the hospital, he hung up his skates and applied for several Detective First Class positions in California. We were lucky enough to get him. He’s brilliant and quite a nice guy under that frigid exterior. He’s only just begun to open up to me and Simmons. I’ve almost got him to agree to come to my house on Christmas Eve for dinner. I’m afraid this is going to send him back down into that black hole he lives in.”

“Shit, Hank. I wish I had known! I really messed up. Hutchinson must hate my guts. I gotta apologize to him. I’ll let him sucker punch me if it makes him feel better. But I gotta let him know no one was trying to hurt him. Jeez, I feel like such a louse.”

Simmons patted Babcock’s arm and looked thoughtful. “Hank, Hutchinson lives in Venice, right? Do you think he might hang out at Venice Beach? Lots of places to sit and contemplate life along the boardwalk.”

Babcock nodded. “It’s worth a shot, Starsky. He’s new in town and that’s a popular spot.”

Simmons added, “Oh, and if you’re really trying to arrange a holiday ice show you might try the police hockey team. They play for fun down at the Bay City Ice Palace. I’m from Denver and I used to play a little hockey in high school. I head down to the rink and pass a puck around with the guys whenever I miss the Colorado winters. I might be willing to join your show, some of the other guys, too.”

“Jake here is an excellent skater, Starsky,” said Babcock. “Me, I’m a San Diego boy. Spent my youth waxing my surfboard and hanging at the beach.”

Starsky felt a little better. “Thanks guys. You’re the best. Thanks for the hockey team idea, Simmons. I might take you up on that offer to skate. I’m gonna head out and try to find Hutchinson. I’ll talk to you later.”

To be continued…

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