- On the first day of Christmas Starsky helped me set all my inhibitions free.
- On the second day of Christmas Starsky gave to me the courage to be me.
- On the third day of Christmas Starsky showed me a new meaning for me and thee.
- On the fourth day of Christmas Starsky raised my temperature by more than a few degrees.
- On the fifth day of Christmas Starsky took me on a shopping spree.
- On the sixth day of Christmas Starsky heard my unspoken plea.
- On the seventh day of Christmas Starsky said he wanted it to be just him and me.
- On the eighth day of Christmas Starsky told me he had to disagree, there was nobody he loved more than me.
- On the ninth day of Christmas Starsky said everything he was he owed to me.
- On the tenth day of Christmas Starsky gave me a kiss as we put up the tree.
- On the eleventh Day of Christmas Starsky fulfilled a secret fantasy.
- On the twelfth day of Christmas we finally made love underneath the Christmas tree.
Monthly Archives: December 2012
December 10th- David & Paul pictures by Flamingo
Here are a few of my favorite things!
Paul puzzle can be found here.
David puzzle can be found here.
Click on the pictures to see them larger. Right click and save to download.
December 9th- Starsky & Hutch Puzzle by Dawn
December 8th- How Do I Love You! by Monika
How do I love you
When you’re thinking hard.
The wrinkles on your forehead
Make me smile.
Wish you would let me
Smooth them out and run
My hands through your unruly curls.
How do I love
When you walk by my side
Your bouncing step signaling
You are one with the world.
When your steps slow down,
And you’re feeling sad and tired,
I’d be willing to carry you.
How do I
Miss you when you’re far away
When you can’t give me a kiss
And put your strong arms around me.
I take your favorite sweater
And press it into my face.
Then I feel your presence.
How do
I hate you coming home late again.
Going ballistic when something goes wrong.
You criticize me, forgetting the praise
And who leaves the toothpaste open?
Do I really love you?
How do I love you!
December 8th- Handsome Hutch by Nicky Gabriel
December 7th- Starsky & Hutch Icons by SHfan
December 6th- Eureka, What an Epiphany by Dawnwind
December 24th, 1983
“Hey.”
Starsky rustled the magazine he’d been reading, jolting Hutch out of his dogged surveillance of the warehouse down the street. He looked up at Starsky without saying anything, fully aware that Starsky would fill him in on whatever had suddenly struck his fancy at the current moment. It was bound to be far more interesting than the dull stake-out on Yaretzi Transport. Not that he was hoping for another shipment of heroin—Mexican brown or China white—just that any action would be better than sitting on his ass in a car for twelve hours straight.
“This article says that the twelve days of Christmas start on Christmas day.” Starsky poked a finger suspiciously at the page. “What kinda sense does that make? Isn’t Christmas done on the twenty-sixth of December?”
“The twelve days of Christmas mark the time between Christ’s birth and the season of Epiphany in the church calendar,” Hutch said, keeping one eye on the big concrete building at the end of the street.
“How do you know this stuff?” Starsky sat up straighter, his blue eyes alight with interest.
He reminded Hutch of a perky little puppy waiting for a treat, which made Hutch think of all sorts of other fun things he could give Starsky—like a kiss. Or something even more intimate…he shook his head to eliminate those thoughts when there was no possibility of following up on them.
“My grandfather was a pastor. The liturgical calendar is split up into seasons. Christmas is the second, with Advent before it and Epiphany afterward.”
“Epiphany, like…” Starsky assumed a radio announcer type voice. “Ah, ha, Newton had an epiphany and discovered gravity when an apple fell on his head.”
Hutch snorted a laugh. “Not really, Epiphany is when the three wise men came to see the Christ child. Twelve days after he was born.”
“Those wise guys took twelve days to get there?” Starsky put a finger to the side of his nose with a New Jersey accent. “Didn’t Vinnie the Geek and Sal drive ’em in their cah?”
“Wise guy,” Hutch said affectionately. “The three wise men came from far away to Bethlehem. Asia, India, places like that. It would have taken at least twelve days to get there riding on a camel.”
“Egypt,” Starsky said sagely. “That’s where they ride camels.”
“There must be camel riding in some of those other desert like countries, surely?” Hutch squinted, glad there was no movement at Yaretzi. “Uh—Tunisia?”
“Where Lucas filmed Star Wars.” Starsky brightened.
“I know the Wise men didn’t come from Tattooine!” Hutch chuckled, the absurd image of C3PO, R2D2 and Chewbacca carrying gifts across the sand dunes under the double moon of Luke Skywalker’s home world popping into his brain. “They came bearing gold, frankincense and myrrh for baby Jesus, and arrived twelve days after Christmas. My grandmother would make a special cake with a little trinket on it and we’d eat the cake after my grandfather got back from church.”
Starsky rolled up the magazine, his restless nature always in motion, and tapped the glossy paper tube on his knee. “Fun times up in the Great Lakes,” he said with exactly the right measure of sarcasm and fond amusement.
“Hey!” Hutch grabbed the rolled magazine and bopped Starsky on the head. “We thought it was fun! When I was really small, Grandmother would give me a little crown and I was king for a day.”
“Sadist!” Starsky made a grab for the now fluttering pages of People and his hand landed smack in Hutch’s lap. “I’d crown you any ol’ day.” He backhanded the magazine away, and took a good handful of Hutchinson.
Damn that felt good! Hutch gasped, squirming under the assault, his cock filling instantly. What if someone walked by the car and saw them? “Starsky, not here!”
“Where, then?” Starsky challenged with a naughty gleam in his eye. “And when?”
Hutch considered the question, idly watching the imposing structure across the street. Nothing happened over there. Starsky bounced his knee restlessly, humming some vaguely Christmas tune.
“Tomorrow,” Hutch told him.
“Tomorrow—but that’s twenty-four hours from now!” Starsky groaned, his dark blue eyes wide.
“If you want to wait that long…” Hutch shrugged as if it made no difference to him. Starsky was so easy to play. “However, it is nearly dark already, and tomorrow is…”
“One minute after twelve, it’s December twenty-fifth.” Starsky grinned, poking Hutch on the chest with his forefinger. “Right after we get off from work.”
“What do you have in mind?” Hutch asked, making an obvious show of adjusting his crotch.
Starsky watched with the avid interest of a bird of prey, even smacking his lips when Hutch sat up straighter. “I think you get the basic premise,” he said. “But I got…conditions here to make things interesting.”
“What?” Hutch asked, suddenly wary. Between the two of them, they’d come up with a few dares that had gotten overly competitive, even dangerous on occasion.
“Nothing that will have you dressed up like an old geezer selling pencils,” Starsky smirked. “Just that there are twelve days of Christmas, huh? Starting tomorrow and ending…?” He waggled his fingers as if counting silently.
“January fifth,” Hutch supplied.
“So, we each take six days. I’ll start.” Starsky hummed a much more recognizable tune this time, launching into the words, “A partridge in a pear tree!”
“You want me—both of us to act out the words of the song?” Hutch asked in astonishment.
“My true love gave to me…” Starsky rolled his hand, indicating the rest of the verse.
“Starsk.” Hutch belatedly remembered he was supposed to be watching Yaretzi Transport, and turned to stare at the building. “You’re crazy.”
Starsky beat Hutch back to the house, glad they’d taken two cars that night since Hutch didn’t approve of using the Torino as a stake-out vehicle. He dashed into their condo, going straight for his record collection. It was five minutes to midnight. Ever since he’d proposed they bring the Twelve Days of Christmas song to life, he’d been wracking his brain for ideas. He had days one, three, five, seven, nine and eleven. He’d always relished challenges, and this one was a doozy.
He grinned in triumph, finding the record that Molly had left in October when she came over to watch the World Series with him. He placed the licorice disc on the turntable and scurried into the kitchen to find what he needed.
Hearing Hutch coming up the stairs, Starsky raced back to the turntable, tucking the fruit he’d grabbed into the branches of the Ficus. As Hutch came through the door, Starsky placed the needle on the correct groove.
“I think I love you!” Keith Partridge warbled.
Hutch looked half startled, half delighted, his eyes going from the pear in the tree to Starsky.
“Do you think you love me? I think I love you…!” Partridge sang along with his faux family.
Hutch grabbed Starsky around the waist, kissing him with joy. “I’ll even listen to the rest of that fucking album to get you into bed right now.”
Starsky laughed, pulling Hutch into the next room. Their clothes littered the floor from the record player to the mattress.
“Can you top that?” Starsky whispered, rocking his pelvis, and thick erection, up against Hutch’s equally swollen cock.
“Doesn’t matter at this moment,” Hutch said, cupping Starsky’s ass. He rubbed hard, increasing the friction with finesse.
Starsky gasped, his whole body tingling, his balls tightening in anticipation of the climax. To the Partridges’ harmonics, he and Hutch orgasmed as one.
Because Starsky presented his gift in the first moments of December twenty-fifth, Hutch had the whole night and day to think up how to give two turtle doves. Between getting up late after an athletic night, lazing around all day opening the few presents under their tree, dinner with the Dobeys and then drinks at the Pits with Huggy at nine p.m., Hutch realized he knew exactly what to do.
“When do I get my present tomorrow?” Starsky asked when they were driving home from the Pits, both just a little tipsy from Huggy’s homemade holiday cheer, a mulled wine with lots of spices.
“Oh, you think I already have something?” Hutch smiled slyly. “When did I possibly have time to go shopping on Christmas day? You were with me every moment.”
“Because you have that look in those pretty blue eyes,” Starsky said laughing, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
“After lunch, then,” Hutch told him, wishing he could return the kiss—but that would have to wait until they got home.
They had to be at Metro by seven a.m., and found out that the bust on Yaretzi Transport had occurred on Christmas day: the drug dealers apparently assuming that there would be no police presence on the holiday. Hutch grinned when Dobey announced the arrest. He and Starsky wouldn’t have to sit unmoving all day in the car.
After an uneventful morning cruising their beat, Hutch drove to a little shopping area for their noonday meal. In the middle of the block was a very pricey bakery. Under normal circumstances, Hutch would never have gone into the place—twenty bucks for a cake always seemed highly extravagant to him. But for his true love…
“Turtledove’s!” Starsky pointed to the sign with a huge grin. “I’ve heard their cookies are fantastic!”
“According to the song, I’m giving you two,” Hutch said with a wink.
He followed Starsky into the bakery, inhaling the enticing scent of baked goods. Hell, he might just indulge in a few Christmas confections himself. “What do you want?”
“Saw them first off,” Starsky said, leaning in to whisper, “true love,” in Hutch’s ear. He pointed to a plate of ball shaped cookies dusted with powdered sugar. “Two Mexican Wedding Cakes—one for me and one for you.”
“This is turning out to be more fun than I expected,” Hutch said as the salesgirl handed over the sweets. Well aware that he hadn’t always gotten his partner a gift that Starsky really wanted, Hutch was thrilled at how successful he’d been on the first try.
Starsky woke up before Hutch on the twenty-seventh and lay watching his lover sleep. It was barely past dawn, long golden streaks of early sun piercing the gap in the curtains to play with the blond strands of Hutch’s hair.
He still had to figure out how to arrange for three French hens. While Hutch would probably adore owning laying chickens–fresh eggs every morning–Starsky doubted that would be practical when they were living in a second floor condo. Had to be something that didn’t need tending or feeding.
“Morning,” Hutch muttered, scrubbing his face to wake up. He smiled, looking straight down at Starsky’s groin. “What do we have here?”
“You want to open something now?” Starsky turned onto his side, displaying his prominent morning woody which was topped by the bow that held his pajama bottoms in place. He liked to sleep in as little as possible, but in December, it was cold enough at night that he gave in to the warmth of flannel pajamas.
“I can’t imagine you are hiding any chickens in here, French or otherwise.” Hutch tugged at the knot.
“I always knew that college degree was going to pay off someday.” Starsky winked, arching his pelvis forward when Hutch wrapped one hand around his cock. Reaching forward, Starsky blindly slipped his fingers into the slit of Hutch’s flannel pants and pulled out Hutch’s cock. It felt so warm, solid and yet sweetly soft, pulsing against his palm.
Hutch pumped Starsky hard, just the way he liked it, the friction igniting his nerves, sending arousal through his skin.
They stroked in unison, Starsky sensing Hutch’s needs through the pads of his fingers. He played his partner’s length like a musical instrument until Hutch sucked in air, shuddering his release.
Laughing with delight, Starsky tumbled over into his own orgasm.
They were slightly late getting to Metro, but neither of them cared.
Starsky was leafing through the phone book to look up a listing for Poole’s Pool Service, a business the BCPD suspected of being a front for male prostitution when he saw the words Poulet Français. Starsky’s French was non-existent but he recognized the restaurant name. He and Hutch had driven by many a time without ever going in.
There were three little chickens painted on the sign over the front door. Chickens wearing French berets on their white heads.
Perfect!
When he escorted Hutch to the restaurant that evening, Hutch laughed at the cute French hens and kissed Starsky hard. Right there in front of the restaurant. Starsky didn’t care how much the bill would cost—that public declaration of love meant more to him than a fifty dollar bottle of Napa Valley wine and two servings of Coq au vin.
Hutch didn’t have to think very long to come up with four calling birds—the gift was obvious. When Starsky had moved to Bay City at the age of thirteen to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Rose, he’d entered a houseful of girl cousins. They’d eagerly welcomed a boy into the nest without reservations, surrounding him with love. It was the work of a few minutes to get in touch with the oldest cousin and arrange everything.
The phone rang as Hutch was unlocking the front door after a day sitting in court to testify against a drug dealer he and Starsky had arrested earlier in the month. “Starsk!” Hutch said urgently. “Answer the phone while I warm up the Chinese food.”
“Why me?” Starsky asked testily. He’d been out of sorts all day, but the annoyance on his face transformed to happiness the minute he heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Robin! What a terrific surprise! Aunt Rose said you and Mike wouldn’t call until you got moved into your new place in Tokyo…”
Hutch hung back, watching Starsky chat with the cousin closest to his own age. The silly dare to act out the words of the twelve days of Christmas song was turning into something very meaningful and strong. There was nothing he wanted more than to be with his love, and make him happy.
Starsky hung up the phone with a grin, but it rang again before he could even move his hand away. “Grand central station here tonight.” He laughed, grabbing one of the egg rolls Hutch brought in before picking up the receiver again.
Hutch munched his own egg roll, glancing over at the photograph on the wall that had inspired him: David Starsky surrounded by the four Starsky sisters, Robin, Lark, Wren and Paloma—all as curly haired as he was.
Hutch knew the twins, Lark and Wren, wouldn’t talk long because they had to hurry off to their winter job as dancers with the Rockettes.
“That was…” Starsky pointed at Hutch, obviously realizing that Hutch had conspired with the girls to have them all call on the same night. The phone rang once more. “I’m never going to get any cashew chicken, am I?” Starsky asked rhetorically, saying, “Hey, Paloma,” before she even got in a hello.
Hutch heaped Chinese food on a plate for Starsky, listening in on Starsky’s questions about Paloma’s grad school thesis on children with cerebral palsy, and her love of Harvard medical school. It occurred to him that he’d never cared whether his ex-wife was simply happy with life. Probably because little had ever satisfied Van, certainly not their marriage. But he wanted Starsky to be happy—independent of their bliss with one another, because it gave him enormous pleasure to see Starsky smile.
“We’re all so far flung, especially since Robin moved to Japan,” Starsky said softly, hanging up the phone for the third time. “Never expected that, but I’m really glad you got us to reconnect, especially with my ma dead, their parents gone, and Nick…”
“Can’t change Nick.”
“No.” Starsky shrugged, the melancholia only slightly modifying his smile. “Thanks, Hutch. That was a real treat.” He chuckled, “And I never saw it coming. Four calling birds…”
“Do I get five golden rings next?” Hutch asked, wiggling his fingers under Starsky’s nose.
The Olympics was coming to Los Angeles in July. Ever person in the entire LA basin—not to mention, the world– must be aware of the fact. There were billboards up all over the area and merchandise festooned with the new logo; speedy looking red, white and blue stars above the more traditional Olympics symbol.
Starsky had bought a T-shirt and cap the first time he’d seen the souvenir clothing, even though the games were six months away. He’d planned to surprise Hutch when the tickets went on sale and include the clothing to make a day of watching the bike races or swimming complete.
Didn’t mean he couldn’t give some of that a little early. He wrapped the shirt emblazoned with 1984 Summer Olympics in a box, adding an IOU for tickets to the event of Hutch’s choice, and tucked it under the seat of the Torino before they left for work.
He and Hutch were called to a liquor store by a shotgun wielding owner holding two stupid-ass boys at bay. The would-be robbers had tried to grab what was in the till but were clearly too stoned to recognize a bad plan when they saw one.
“You have the right to remain silent…” Starsky started and burst into laughter when he realized he was speaking in time to the tune playing over the liquor store speakers: Twelve days of Christmas.
The puckered faced store owner gave him a sour look and Hutch took over the recitation of the Miranda rights so smoothly there wasn’t more than a pause in the flow.
“Thanks, Mr. Lee,” Starsky said after he’d composed himself. “Might change your playlist, it’s almost the new year.”
“New year not until end of January,” Lee snarled as Hutch led the recalcitrant thieves out the door. “Year of the Rat can’t come soon enough.”
“Auld lang syne to you, too,” Starsky muttered.
He waited until they’d booked Huey and Dewey and were back in the Torino again. “On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” Starsky warbled, looking straight into Hutch’s bright blue eyes. “Look under your seat right now.”
“I thought I felt something bumping the back of my ankle.” Hutch bent over and pulled the box out. He examined the t-shirt sized parcel, raising his eyebrows. “Far too big to be a jeweler’s box.” He carefully peeled the tape up, folding back the edges of the wrapping paper.
“Do you do that to torture me?” Starsky moaned. “Rip it off!”
“You do it your way, I do it mine.” Hutch had already lifted off the lid and was smiling at the contents. “Perfect, Starsk, really perfect. These are exactly the five rings I would wear.”
Hutch was beginning to feel the pressure—they’d both given each other really wonderful, heartfelt gifts—and played fast and loose with the words to the song. But how was he supposed to present Starsky with six geese a-laying?
He thought about searching a gourmet shop for goose eggs, but once cooked, how different would they be from regular chicken eggs? What else did goose egg bring to mind?
A bump on the back on the head, but Hutch wasn’t about to wallop his true love with a baseball bat for lyric verisimilitude, no matter how annoying Starsky could be once in a while. While he wanted to keep the spirit of competition alive, he didn’t want to make this a game of one-upmanship. He and Starsky had gotten past that in their relationship.
All through the morning he kept flashing on an image of a flock of geese perched on nests—where? It was an infuriating half-memory, illusive and confusing. Was he just fixated on geese in general?
“Hutch,” Starsky said loudly. From the tone of his voice, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Hutch’s attention.
“Huh?” Hutch shook himself out of his daze.
“You need some black staff molasses or vitamin E?” Starsky turned the steering wheel of the Torino in a lazy arc, going left onto Broadway to complete the sweep of their patrol area. “You’ve been zoning out all day.”
“Black strap…” Hutch corrected, surveying his side of the street like a good detective, which he hadn’t been when he was daydreaming. “It’s full of minerals like iron, potassium and…the liquor store!” he yelled so loudly that Starsky stomped on the brakes.
“What the hell?” Starsky cried, the cars behind him all honking their horns. “We’ve got beer—and several bottles of wine at home.”
“Uh, no—” Hutch scrambled mentally to come up with a reasonable motive for shouting. Passing Lee’s Liquors for the second time in two days had cleared his memory. Goose Egg was the name of a local brewery. They’d put out a holiday ale, which had been featured next to the cash register when he and Starsky arrested Huey and Dewey. “I was just wondering how Mr. Lee was doing after the robbery.”
“Just like you to check up on the victim,” Starsky said indulgently, nosing the Torino into a parking place a few yards away. “You gonna slip him a twenty?”
“I need to buy something,” Hutch explained, trying to go for huffy so Starsky wouldn’t guess why he needed to go to a liquor store in the middle of the day. “Never you mind!”
“Oh.” Starsky grinned impishly. “I’ll call us out for lunch and wander over to the diner across the street while you do some shopping?”
Getting out of the car, Hutch laughed in spite of himself. Starsky understood him far too well. “Yes, that would be perfect. Order me a…”
Starsky put his fingers to his forehead as if reading his mind. “Tuna melt on wheat, iced tea and…side salad.”
“Don’t let success go to your head,” Hutch said, pointing a steady finger at him. God, he loved that man.
“See you in five.” Starsky winked rakishly, heading across the street to Broadway Buns.
Hutch was actually glad that Mrs. Lee, who didn’t speak much English, was working the till instead of her husband so he didn’t have to make chit-chat. He was in and out of the liquor store and over to the diner in less than Starsky’s estimated five minutes.
He plunked down next to Starsky in a back booth and placed the six pack of Goose Egg into his lap.
“Hey!” Starsky slid a bottle out of the cardboard carrying pack, examining the label. “Laying in the supplies for New Year’s eve?” His eyes twinkled with merriment, and he pitched his voice below the ambient noise in the diner. “I’d kiss you right now if we were at home.”
“I’ll take a rain check,” Hutch promised.
Starsky and Hutch lucked out and got New Year’s Eve off. Although the Pits always had a wild bash, complete with streamers, noise makers and kisses at midnight, they decided a night in would be far more cozy. They’d partied with Huggy and the Dobeys on Christmas; this was just for them.
Opening the TV guide to plan his football watching for the next two days, Starsky saw a listing that solved the problem of how to give Hutch seven swans. In fact, chances were, there were actually more than seven swans involved. And it was absolutely free. While he had no qualms about spending a load of cash on his true love, the Poulet Français meal had set him back a pretty penny.
At five-thirty p.m., Hutch stretched after his afternoon nap. “I’ll go pick up the steamed crab and sourdough bread we ordered from Lococco’s for dinner,” he said. “Do you want anything else?”
“Nope.” Starsky glanced up from a recap of the Peach Bowl: Florida State had won against North Carolina. “We got the beer you bought yesterday and the French bubbly your mom sent from her trip to Champagne.”
“Not to mention the chocolate she bought in Belgium.” Hutch chuckled. “I know which one you want more.”
“European chocolate is far superior to the American stuff,” Starsky said loftily, waving his fingers over the top of the couch. “I’ll be waiting for you, sailor!”
When Hutch got back, the scent of sourdough and freshly cooked crab wafted through the house the minute he shut the door. Starsky turned up the sound on the TV; Swan Lake was just starting. As Hutch put the food on the table, Tchaikovsky’s magnificent score began to play.
“Swan Lake?” Hutch turned, looking at the TV as robed trumpeters played a fanfare and a young prince leapt onto the stage, his dancing both powerfully athletic and light as a feather. “Mikhail Baryshnikov,” Hutch identified, joy lighting his face. “Is this the collaboration between the American Ballet Theater and the Moscow Ballet from last summer?”
Hutch’s enthusiasm warmed Starsky down to his toes. “Babe, I know how much you wanted to see Anna Akhanatova dance again–”
“The price of those tickets were way out of our league,” Hutch said, sitting on the couch to stare at the screen as if he was going to forego eating until he got a glimpse of his favorite ballerina. “Not to mention the flight to New York for only a couple days. Starsky, this is fantastic!”
“Do I get any kind of reward?” Starsky asked flirtatiously to distract Hutch away from the dancers.
Hutch hugged Starsky from the side, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Starsky had to tilt his head to get a second one in the correct place, but Hutch’s eyes were riveted to the TV for Akhanatova’s first entrance.
Giving it up as a lost cause, at least until the swans pirouetted out, Starsky cracked the crab. He understood Hutch’s obsession—it wasn’t just his love of ballet, but the memories of his brief affair with the prima ballerina, Anna. They’d both had women throughout their lives that ‘could have been the one.‘ Starsky had always suspected that if Hutch and Anna had had more time to get to know each other, there might have been a lasting connection. As it was, the time had been so fleeting that no one would ever know for sure. Starsky held no jealousy to the beautiful ballet dancer, just as he knew Hutch didn’t resent his fond memories of Terry or Rosey.
Those women were their past—but they were forging a future as a couple. Just owning this condo together and sleeping in the same bed every night was special. Even what had started out as a silly competition had turned into an incredibly meaningful way to show his love to his partner.
Starsky blinked away the moisture in his eyes, silently chastising his oversentimentality. He was getting to be an old softy, just like the blond guy mesmerized by the artistry on the television.
Starsky tossed salad and divided it into two bowls, eating a slice of still warm sourdough as he worked. He popped the caps off two Goose Egg ales. Placing a plate of crab on Hutch’s lap, Starsky ruffled his hair affectionately, but Hutch only murmured an absent thanks.
Sitting back to eat his meal, Starsky watched his lover watching ballet. Nothing better.
Swan Lake was over at eight-thirty. Good thing, because Hutch was in a very amorous mood by then. Starsky performed a sexy little dance that had none of the technique of a trained ballet dancer, but got Hutch’s full and undivided attention.
Flipping the Olympics t-shirt he’d given Hutch but had worn all day over his head, Starsky sashayed across the living room to get the champagne. He wiggled his hips, made a little teasing kick with his left leg and danced the bottle back to the coffee table. Hutch had the glasses ready.
Starsky unzipped his jeans, leaving them on but open in an invitation to his lover.
Hutch laughed, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He was wearing a white t-shirt underneath, but that was simply a challenge to Starsky.
“Ready for some bubbly, Mr. Howell?” Starsky twisted the wire cage off the cork and pushed both thumbs under the bulbous top.
“Starsk…” Hutch stood up warily, staring at the bottle pointing directly at him. “You wouldn’t…”
“Time to get naked, babe!” Starsky warned. “This is gonna blow!” He pushed the cork—just a little—and the warm, carbonated wine burst out, showering Hutch.
“That was low!” Hutch growled, drenched. He threw off his wet clothes.
Exactly what Starsky had wanted all along. Starsky tackled him onto the floor, laughing and trying to get at all the parts of Hutchinson anatomy that had been splashed with sparkling wine.
Hutch kissed him hard on the lips, sucking Starsky’s tongue into his mouth and scraping his teeth against Starsky’s. Arms around each other, they lay in the nest of scattered clothing, engrossed in rediscovering erogenous zones.
Starsky licked the curve of Hutch’s throat, sure he could taste a hint of wine, and latched on, instantly raising a hickey.
“How could you waste champagne my mother sent from…” Hutch murmured into his ear, grinding his erection into Starsky’s groin.
“Was cheap…” Starsky lost all ability to speak for a while as his cock sparked against Hutch’s. Purple and green fireworks exploded on his retinas when he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t breathe, his whole being trembling.
When Hutch pushed a finger back along Starsky’s perineum and then circled his puckered anus, Starsky climaxed. Panting, he relished the incredible high, very aware that Hutch hadn’t come yet. Fighting fatigue, Starsky turned on his side, scooting down until he was level with his lover’s thick cock.
“The bottle your mother sent is on ice; that was a bottle of plonk.” He looked up into Hutch’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Fooled you though, didn’t I?”
Hutch grabbed a handful of Starsky’s curls, pulling gently. “You wish. I got some in my mouth–and can taste the difference between grapes grown in France and some blend of table grapes grown in Fresno.”
“I’ve got you in my mouth,” Starsky slurped Hutch’s length in, humming Twelve Days of Christmas while he cupped Hutch’s tight scrotum in his left hand.
Hutch came, and came, and came.
Nursing a slight hangover from polishing off three ales and two glasses of imported champagne by the time the clock struck twelve to usher in 1984, Hutch watched the Rosebowl parade with his feet cushioned on the Bay City Times. Starsky curled at his side, finishing the last of his cheese omelet.
Hutch had always intended to get over to Pasadena, a barely thirty minute drive away, some year to see the parade in person. Except that half the population of Southern California seemed to be camped out from the middle of the night to get a good place on the main parade route. That was not how Hutch ever wanted to spend his New Year’s Eve.
“I’m always amazed they can make those floats completely out of flowers,” Starsky said. “Look at that one about Africa—the apes are made from coconut hair.”
“I know.” Hutch pointed at the TV. “That’s what the commentator just said.” Slightly irritated that Starsky was repeating what he could hear for himself, Hutch reached for the phone on the side table just as it rang.
“Happy New Year, Edith.” Hutch easily identified her voice despite a throaty rasp. “How are you—”
“Ken, I have a request, and I know it’s a big one but…” Edith sneezed violently three times in a row.
Hutch could hear her blowing her nose before she could speak again. “You sound like you have the same flu the captain had the other day. What can we do for you?”
As Edith related her dilemma, Hutch began to grin, greatly relieved. In one fell swoop, the day had fallen into place—and so had his gift. He promised Edith that he and Starsky would help out and hung up. “Dobey’s still under the weather, Cal is sick, and now Edith’s caught the bug, too.”
Starsky had gotten up during a commercial to go into the bathroom. He came out brushing his teeth. “What about little Rosie? Dobey was hacking and sneezing all over the squadroom,” Starsky mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. He reversed course to spit into the sink and rinse his mouth out.
“Which is exactly why I gave you the extra vitamin C.” Hutch nodded. “Anyway, since we had nothing planned today until working night shift…”
“I was kinda thinking about making out with my true love and waiting for those maids a-milking,” Starsky said with a pout.
“We can make out another time.” Hutch leveled his forefinger at Starsky’s naked chest, sighing inwardly. The sacrifices he made to complete the holiday dare. He’d have preferred making love all afternoon, too. “Get dressed. We’re shepherding Rosie’s Camp Fire girls troop to Maiden Fresh dairy.”
“A dairy?” Starsky repeated, pulling the red shawl collared sweater they both shared over his head. “Oh, eight maids a-milking. You’re sneaky, Hutchinson.” He thumped Hutch on the arm, hard enough that it hurt, just a little. “Did you plan this?”
“No, honestly,” Hutch said over his shoulder, going to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. He’d need a lot of caffeine to keep up with Rosie and seven other fourteen year old girls. “I was glad to help Edith, above and beyond the fact that it solved what to get you on the eighth day.”
Starsky put his arms around Hutch from behind and kissed his ear. “You’ll always be the cream in my coffee, milkman.”
Starsky stared out the window of the Torino, waiting for Hutch to dole out a couple of twenties to the homeless men huddled around a fire in a trashcan under the freeway overpass. He’d had many ways to go with ladies dancing. He’d already used ballet dancers, so that was out. And much as he liked going to a disco, that had seemed a little obvious. Besides, even if he and Hutch phoned every old girlfriend still in their address books after five years, that wouldn’t add up to nine.
In the end, he’d come up with a brilliant gift, if he said so himself. Once again, a little pricey, but Hutch was more than worth it. It wasn’t as if Starsky would hate where they were headed. He was going to love every minute of the show.
“Come on, blondie,” Starsky called as Hutch waved goodbye to a grizzled old guy with a patch over one eye. “Get a move on, we haven’t got all day.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Hutch asked, climbing into the car and laying one of his wind chilled hands on Starsky’s cheek.
“You’re freezing!” Starsky shuddered, driving on to the freeway. “Crank up the heat. We’ve got tickets and we need to get to the court on time.”
“Let’s see—nine ladies dancing,” Hutch trilled in tune. “At a court. Couldn’t be something legal since the courts are closed today because Sunday was a holiday.” He looked speculatively at Starsky and then through the windshield at an enormous structure looming in the distance. “Starsk! You got tickets to a Laker’s game?”
“With nine Laker girls dancing at half time, including that cutie on Huggy’s calendar, Paula Abdul.” Starsky nodded proudly.
The kiss Hutch planted on his cheek heated him up far faster than the old Torino heater.
The Lakers lost to the New York Knicks, but neither Starsky nor Hutch cared a bit. They sat in the bleachers cheering on the home team, and if their hands clasped now and again while everyone else was focused on the game, that was no one’s business but their own.
The half-time show, featuring the fanny wiggling, high stepping cheerleaders decked out in glittery yellow and purple mini-skirts was the highlight of the afternoon. Starsky’s adoration of his blond prince didn’t stop him from admiring the bouncing breasts of a line of gorgeous women dancing to Flashdance.
Hutch didn’t like Christmas shopping at all. Even after many wonderful holidays celebrated with Starsky, he still would prefer to have his wisdom teeth pulled again rather than wade into the fray of frantic shoppers. On the other hand, a wander through a bookstore in the new year was another thing entirely. Holiday wrapping paper was on sale—which was exactly what Starsky had come into the store to buy—and so were the calendars.
He skipped over glossy calendars featuring adorable kittens, Edward Gorey pen and ink drawings of small children dying in oddly funny ways, photos from Return of the Jedi and Octopussy, looking for a plain day-to-day planner. Didn’t seem like there was anything with a leather cover and large pages like his father used to have. With a sigh, Hutch was about to go ask a Waldenbooks employee when he spotted a calendar with Princess Diana on the cover. He had a secret crush on Prince Charles’ wife, but he didn’t want Starsky to know. He’d never hear the end of it.
Flipping up the cover, Hutch checked out the pictures for each month. The calendar actually featured more than just the popular princess; there were pictures of other royals and aristocracy. He laughed out loud when he saw the image for March—Starsky’s birth month–and bought the calendar immediately.
“What’d you get?” Starsky asked when they arrived home. He opened his shopping bags, unloading his bargain wrapping paper, ribbon and a pair of boxers with Santa on the front.
“You won’t be allowed in bed if you wear those!” Hutch declared, folding the bag around the calendar as impromptu wrapping paper. “It’s for you.”
“Hey.” Starsky grinned, mischievous glee glinting in his eyes. “You’re forgiven for mocking my shorts.” He felt around the edges of the gift. “From the shape, it’s either an LP or a calendar, and probably has something to do with leapin’ lords.”
“Gloriosky, leaping lizards, Little Orphan Annie,” Hutch deadpanned.
Starsky tossed the bag aside, holding up the cover with Diana accepting flowers from a pink cheeked British child. “Dear Ann Landers, on the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave me a picture of his English girlfriend. Should I be worried?”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hutch grabbed the calendar out of his hands.
“Oh, who insisted we watch the wedding in the middle of the night?” Starsky rolled his eyes, pointing to the picture for February as Hutch flipped the pages. Diana was wearing a diamond and pearl tiara, beaming at the camera. He picked up the new wrapping paper to stow it in the closet.
“We were in the squadroom anyway.” Hutch glared at Starsky, horrified that he’d guessed his secret.
“We don’t usually watch TV while going through arrest warrants.” Starsky laughed. “I’ve seen you reading People magazine with Diana’s pictures in the grocery line. Give me that back. I want to find the…”
“Ten Lords a-Leaping!” Hutch held up the picture of polo team made up of entirely of young British aristocracy jumping into the air after their victory.
“Jolly good show, Sir Kenneth,” Starsky intoned, pretending to knight him with a long roll of red and green holly paper. He leaned in for a kiss, dropping the wrapping paper on the rug.
Hutch let go of the calendar in favor of holding his lover in his arms, curving his hands over Starsky’s round butt. The kiss they shared was long and extremely satisfying.
“Does that mean I have to look at Diana on every other month?” Starsky pointed down at the calendar splayed out on the floor with July face up. Diana was waving from the balcony of Buckingham Palace with Charles on one side and the Queen on the other.
“Cultural détente, Starsk,” Hutch said, capturing his partner’s mouth for another kiss. “After all, you got Paula Abdul’s autograph yesterday.”
“How many plumbers is this gonna take?” Starsky asked, not expecting an answer. He perched on the bumper of the Torino, watching a squadron of men tromping into Metro.
The temperature had gone below freezing during the night, causing the pipes in the building to burst. The staff on hand had to be evacuated and most of the employees of the police department were standing around in the parking lot with resigned expressions.
“This probably wouldn’t have been so bad in Minnesota,” Hutch commented, chewing on a bagel for his breakfast. “They’re used to freezing weather there.”
“It’s colder’n a witch’s tit out here,” Starsky complained, shoving his gloved hands under his armpits. “And we’ve been out all night long, what’er we gonna do?” He knew bitching about it wasn’t going to help but he was exhausted after a night investigating a fatal shooting between two drunks, and just wanted to file his report and go home to snuggle in bed with Hutch. Under a nice warm duvet.
“Wait until the plumbers give us the all clear.” Hutch shrugged, apparently impervious to the chill.
Dobey hurried over, his breath puffing in white clouds like a steam engine. “That makes eleven pipeworkers inside, to deal with the pipes.”
Had he heard what he thought he heard? Starsky started to giggle and looked over at Hutch. Hutch’s eyebrows were hovering near his bangs and he snorted under his breath as if he was trying not to laugh.
That made Starsky giggle more, much to Dobey’s obvious consternation.
“What are you two laughing about?” he bellowed. “This is serious stuff here, the flood could have damaged important evidence and arrest paperwork, setting back cases already in the courts as a result!” He shook his head at their foolishness and marched off, his breath clouds floating over his head.
“No fair, Starsk,” Hutch said, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard. “You didn’t have to do a thing to get this one.”
“I had to sit out in the cold, freezing my fanny off!” Starsky pointed out. “And only got half a bagel for breakfast because you ate the rest.” Hutch did not look at all guilty about that. “Besides, you didn’t have to think up taking the girls to the dairy.”
“Hey, you liked that place,” Hutch countered. “I saw you guzzle two containers of chocolate milk.”
“Lizzie Diamond was lactose intolerant.” Starsky shrugged. “She couldn’t drink hers.” He hunched his shoulders, shifting his butt on the back of the car. The metal still held enough heat to give him a little warmth. “The girls sure looked adorable milking the cows.”
“You know,” Hutch said, turning his head to watch a pair of cops get into their cruiser to drive out. “When you started this, I thought this was another one of your cockamamie ideas, but this has been really fun.”
“Makes me think about you all the time,” Starsky said softly, his heart full to overflowing. “Not just getting something that is mentioned in the song, but something maybe that’ll be fun to share together or…just that you’d like.”
“We should do this next year.” Hutch patted Starsky’s hand, squeezing just once.
“We’re not even finished, you have one more gift!” Starsky jumped up to get some warmth into his feet. “Thought about how you’ll wrap up twelve drummers?” He played a rat-a-tat-tat on the trunk of the Torino.
“Wait and see,” Hutch promised.
After having to wait two hours until the plumbers fixed the broken pipes in the building, plus a four car pile-up on the freeway when they drove home at ten a.m., Hutch never had time to come up with one last gift. He and Starsky had fallen into bed on January fourth at eleven in the morning and gotten up at nearly nine p.m. in time for the next shift.
Yawning, all Hutch cared about was injecting caffeine straight into his veins, eating something and taking a shower before work. Starsky dragged around the condo, throwing together bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, his eyes at half-mast.
“How come sleeping all day doesn’t make up for being up for more than twenty-four hours before?” he groused, stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee.
For once, Hutch didn’t comment on the high fat meal or Starsky’s overuse of sugar. He was exhausted, and they had another all-nighter to put in. “I’ll just be glad when we pull day shift again next week,” Hutch said. “You ready to go?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Starsky buckled his shoulder holster in place.
Hutch watched, feeling just a little of the tiredness drain away. The day he stopped yearning for his partner’s body as he arched his chest to snap the holster straps in place was the day he’d be buried in the ground.
“Come here,” Hutch urged, tugging Starsky’s black turtleneck down more smoothly just so he could feel Starsky up a little.
Starsky kissed him quick, a smile replacing the fatigue. “On January sixth, big boy, ain’t that when I get to king you?”
“What an epiphany!” Hutch chuckled. “He got the concept after all this time.”
Unfortunately, since they were both exhausted, the night never seemed to end. Wednesday barreled into Thursday with what seemed like a mini crime wave. A domestic dispute that led to a fight at a bar with one man shot dead took up most of the wee hours. The sky was lightening in the east when the last of the brawlers had been hauled off to the city jail and the body to the morgue. Both Starsky and Hutch were ready to clock in but a fender-bender not two blocks from Metro brought traffic to a halt. Starsky rolled his eyes and grabbed the mic to call into dispatch when they were hailed first.
“Zebra three, there’s a report of a 211 at 765 Elby Street,” Kevin called.
“Sure thing, with the cars snarled up on Washington, there’s no way we’re getting to Metro anyway,” Starsky replied, bracing himself as Hutch made a sharp right into a less crowded side street and sped away. “That’s the community theater.”
“Victim says the thief was a tall thin man in blue sweat pants and a yellow and purple jacket,” Kevin continued. “Talk to a Thierry Miburu.”
“Some name,” Hutch commented, taking two successive rights to bring them onto Elby, about six blocks east of the theater. The sun wasn’t high enough to brighten the street. Shadows hung from every high building but Hutch could see the neon sign spelling out Tripoli—the T was faulty and occasionally blinked out for a few seconds.
“Hutch!” Starsky called out suddenly, pointing not at the bright red and blue sign, but to the sidewalk opposite the car. “Stop!”
“Wha…?” Hutch didn’t have time to register the command before Starsky shoved the car door open.
“Starsky!” Hutch yelled.
Starsky barreled across the road, diving headlong at a man just passing under a streetlamp.
Hutch braked, sent a hasty call for back-up and went after his partner. Starsky was already cuffing a stringbean of a man wearing a huge parka in Laker’s colors.
“What took you so long?” Starsky asked rhetorically, glancing up at Hutch. He gave the prisoner a little shake and hauled him to his feet. “Saw Ichabod Crane here and knew the description sounded familiar.”
“I didn’t do nuthin’,” Crane said sullenly.
Hutch snorted, unconvinced. Isaiah Crane was well-known for robbing movie theaters, usually when the cash was being taken to the after-hours bank drop. “You find any money on him?”
Starsky pointed to a manila envelope lying under the streetlamp on the sidewalk.
“That’s mine!” Crane protested. “I just got paid!”
“You have a job?” Hutch picked up the envelope, turning it over. On the front was printed Royal Drummers of Burundi, Thierry Miburu, Manager. “I guess you changed your name. I’ll return this if you can spell your new moniker.”
Crane gaped at Hutch, the port wine stain on his right temple suddenly glowing as the sun got high enough to shine down on the street. “I…” He shuffled his feet, apparently ready to flee with his hands cuffed behind him.
Starsky laughed, reciting the Miranda as fast as he could. “And look.” He turned Crane around to see the black and white cruiser pulling up behind Hutch’s Ford. “Here’s your ride to your temporary hotel. Have a nice stay.”
Hutch showed the officers the envelope stuffed with several hundred dollars and had them take photos of the evidence so that he could return the cash to the rightful owner.
Miburu was a small man with powerfully muscled arms and a bald head. He was overcome with thanks when Starsky and Hutch knocked on the door of the Tripoli.
“I was resigned to the fact that this money was gone forever,” he said breathlessly, in heavily accented English. There were tears in his dark brown eyes. “We gave our first performance in your country last night, but the bus has broken down and we did not have enough money to book a hotel—so we slept here. I…”
“You’ll have to come down to the station to sign a formal statement,” Starsky told him. “But we ain’t impounding money that’s obviously yours.”
“It was the ticket sales from the first show,” Miburu explained. “I was told to take it to the bank on the corner. To put it in the night safe.”
“A good plan,” Hutch agreed. “Just don’t do it by yourself, before dawn. Where are you from?” He looked around and saw Starsky’s eyes widen at the shabbiness of the place. The community theatre had fallen on hard times, too. The lobby looked dingy and dark at seven-thirty in the morning. From somewhere deep inside the building, a rhythmic pounding rose, nearly shaking the walls.
“Bujumbura, Burundi in Africa,” Miburu said graciously with a slight bow. “Please, come inside, we have breakfast. Would you share some sweet potato?”
“Thanks, we cannot eat when on duty,” Hutch replied. He couldn’t take food from these people who clearly had very little. Besides, he and Starsky would eat something soon enough at the station. The pounding was getting louder, an almost hypnotic beat that seemed both primitive and alive—something born of the earth.
“What’s that sound?” Starsky said over his shoulder, pushing open the door to the main hall.
The drumming spilled out of the theater, thunder from an ancient world, speaking to Hutch’s blood, his very soul. Starsky immediately began to bob his head to the tempo, watching the brown-skinned men on the stage jump and dance around their three foot tall drums, pounding ceaselessly. One man leapt so high that his knees seemed to touch his forehead and he laughed, his teeth white against his dark skin. The joy in their performance was infectious, and in spite of his fatigue, Hutch grinned.
“This is incredible!” he said, unable to take his eyes off the show.
“We are the Royal Drummers of Burundi,” Miburu said proudly. “Last night was the first show, and although we did not make much money, we hope that we provided happiness to the audience.”
“If they saw what I’m watching,” Starsky waved a hand at a performer carrying a staff and shield, twirling and leaping across the stage to the regular beat of the drums, “the audience couldn’t help but be happy. You guys are great.”
“Thank you.” Miburu clasped his hands in gratitude. “I had been afraid of coming to this country, of encountering dangers. Your swift justice on our behalf has given me new hope that we will be able to support our families back home.”
“We’ll spread the word, get you bigger audiences for the rest of your run,” Hutch promised. “Just make sure you walk in pairs when you take the money to the bank.”
“I’ll give you the name of a good mechanic for your bus, too,” Starsky said, digging into his pocket for a paper and pen to write out Merle’s address.
The booming percussion followed them out of the theater and back to Hutch’s car. Hutch’s ears were ringing from the sound. Even so, he and Starsky would be back to see the entire show before the drummers left town.
“Twelve drummers drumming…” Starsky yodeled.
“We did it,” Hutch said softly. “Finished the final verse.” He smiled, recalling the last twelve days. They’d not only given each other special gifts, but reconnected with family, helped out friends and new acquaintances, and found profound meaning in the interpretation of an ancient song.
Starsky glanced around at the quiet street, grasped Hutch’s hand and kissed his knuckles, quick. Hutch knew there would definitely be more where that came from when they were in the privacy of their own home.
“You got lucky, blintz,” Starsky teased, his eyes bright with love. “That one fell in your lap, like taking Rosie to the dairy, and—”
“As if you planned for the pipes at Metro to break!” Hutch countered. “And not like it was hard to find something with five rings on it with the Olympics coming.”
“You still wore the shirt!” Starsky climbed into the car, sliding his sunglasses on.
Hutch blinked in the bright morning sun and patted his letterman’s jacket for his shades. It promised to be a glorious morning, if still quite chilly for Southern California. “So did you.” He turned over the car engine, sure he could still hear the pounding drums at this distance. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Turtledove’s bakery displayed a Gateau du roi in the front window, complete with a gold paper crown. Starsky thought it looked more like a pie than a cake, with a crust-like top, but it smelled delicious. He could barely keep from opening the pink box and snitching a bit on the way home in the car.
Hutch sliced the first piece, and lucky man that he was, got the trinket on his fork when he bit into the cake. Starsky didn’t care—he was having cake for breakfast—with Hutchinson for dessert afterwards.
“You have to put on the crown,” Starsky said, placing the paper coronet on Hutch’s fair hair. “It must be in the rule books somewhere.”
“You wear it!” Hutch laughed, snatching it off and stuffing it down on Starsky’s curls. “We’ll rule this fair kingdom together.”
“Oh, no, you’re the king. Care for a game of chess? Knight’s pawn to King’s joey?” Starsky asked as if he really didn’t have other plans. He leaned back on the pillows to display his naked chest, savoring the taste of almond paste and crust lingering on his tongue. The crown tumbled off into the bed sheets. “Jousting with lances?”
“Chess, no.” Hutch pushed the Friday morning newspaper off their bed and set the remains of the cake on the floor. “But jousting sounds like fun.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone pokes an eye.” Starsky stretched out, his cock swelling just from the word play.
“I should never have let you talk me into seeing that Christmas Story movie,” Hutch chuckled, removing his only clothes, Starsky’s Santa boxers.
“Can I help it if your publicity sold out the Burundi drummers’ show and we had to buy tickets for another night?” Starsky shrugged, his eyes on Hutch’s display. “I needed some entertainment after working the late shift for the past week. Kiko and Molly both gave the movie two thumbs up.”
“Reminded me of my childhood,” Hutch murmured, gathering Starsky into him. He kissed Starsky reverently.
The kiss melted Starsky’s bones. He flowed into Hutch’s arms, giving and responding to the nuzzles and licks as Hutch covered his upper body with love.
“You ever do that…” Starsky sighed, lapping at Hutch’s warm neck. It was nothing like a frozen pole. “Lick a…”
“I knew better.” Hutch swallowed, his Adam’s apple giving Starsky’s tongue a rollercoaster ride. “But the way you laughed, you must have?” He turned to suck briefly on Starsky’s ear lobe.
Starsky snickered, letting Hutch arrange him against the headboard with the pillows shoved under his butt for leverage, remembering the scene where Ralph triple dog dares his friend to put his tongue on an icy flagpole. “No, Nicky did.”
“Nicky would,” Hutch conceded with a grin. His blond hair fell over his forehead, brushing his eyelashes when he gazed at Starsky. He ran his fingers lightly down the inside of Starsky’s thighs, adding his tongue for effect.
Starsky gasped, arousal swirling like a vortex inside him. “Babe…” He wanted Hutch inside him sooner rather than later. “King for the day—all yours.”
“Gonna claim my prize,” Hutch whispered, positioning himself. He knelt, his thick erection poised at the entrance to Starsky’s body. “I love you.”
“No question.” Starsky arched as Hutch pushed in, the initial burn an erotic cocktail, both painful and amazingly powerful. Once Hutch was fully seated, the pleasure intensified tenfold and Starsky shook with lust. “Love you so much.”
Hutch panted, his chest heaving and he leaned down to Starsky to kiss him hard, all thrusting tongue and clashing teeth. He curled his palm around Starsky’s cock, squeezing hard just as his climax must have hit. His length expanded inside Starsky, pulsing against his interior walls like a second heart.
Starsky orgasmed seconds after Hutch, linking his hands around his lover to keep them close when they tumbled sideways onto the sheets together.
“You’re a better hump than a camel any old day,” Hutch muttered into Starsky’s ear as he fell asleep.
“My true love said to me…” Starsky sang to himself, wrapped in Hutch’s arms.
December 6th- Roots to Grow by Muckel1470
You can see Hutcherie’s artwork for this story here.
And special thanks to my beta, provencepuss!
Part One
Meeting
He stared out of the window and observed the snowflakes slowly growing thicker and thicker. It had become colder; frost flowers had formed on the window panes and now sketched an attractive picture against the snow mounting higher and higher outside. Actually, a perfect day, if not, yeah if not…
It had been a terrible last week; only one day longer, and it would have been even worse than it was already. He had run away…as fast as he could…
Like always.
That’s why he had driven more than 2000 miles in two days to find some peace. Some peace in his grandpas’ old hunting lodge in the middle of nowhere. The first half year of his training was over, this was his vacation. Vacation, spare time, Christmas Eve. Time for family, friends, time for memories.
Time to run away… he had run away, away from the annoyance, the constant pressure, disputes, away from the bustle… away from Christmas and his painful memories, like every year.
‘Dear God…you’re 24 years old and you’re still afraid of celebrating Christmas…’
Besides, this year had begun so well. A new start, a new job, to the displeasure of his family. But he knew that he had found the right way for himself.
It was what he wanted to do and nobody would dissuade him from it again. He would struggle through…but, maybe it wasn’t necessary after what had happened two days ago…
‘Why you have to mess up with everybody? Maybe the guy’s even not worth it at all and you risked your job, your future… ‘
‘Because you are who you are and because you can’t be someone else. I expect nothing else from you…’ The small voice in his head answered.
‘Oh yes, of course! Getting myself into the biggest trouble possible, I’m very good at this game, you don’t have to tell me. After all something to be proud of, even…’
‘Isn’t it enough that I’m proud of you? You acted like your instinct told you, as well as I have taught you to do and it was correct.’
‘My instinct… better call it my stubbornness! In two weeks I’ll know if I still have a job and whether you can be proud of me or not.’
‘He’ll realize that he made a mistake. He played with the man’s life and you interfered and you know it was right. Maybe that man would be dead if you hadn’t helped him. He won’t forget this.’
‘Oh please stop talking… I would have saved him and me an amount of trouble, it’s enough… leave me now I’m tired and my hand still hurts so much… please, just leave me alone for a while, okay?’
‘We don’t need to talk anymore… you will see, everything’s fine. You won’t be alone anymore…’
‘But I want to be alone now, so leave me, NOW!’
Tiredly he tripped to his bed, laid down, rolled on his side and pressed his aching hand against chest.
‘I only want to be alone.’
“Hutchinson…what do you think you’re doing there?” The sharp sound of his instructor’s voice made him wince, but he didn’t stop.
“Stop that, at once or I’ll…”
“This man will die unless something is done quickly. So let me do my work and back off, okay?”
Two sky blue eyes stared at the man in the blue tracksuit, full of anger and incomprehension, while he picked up a rope from the ground and draped it over his shoulder.
“The boy there is scared to death, he can’t even make a move. So let me help him and then you can do what ever you want. But first I’ll tell the administrator what happened here…”
“You won’t tell him a thing…or I’ll…” Sergeant Jenkins glared at the blond cadet, but the other man simply stared back evenly with more determination in those sky-blue eyes than Jenkins had ever seen.
“You’ll what? Throw me out of the academy? Do it if you want, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be happy if I’m not part of all this crap here any longer. So is somebody here going to secure me with this rope, or not?”
His glance went around but he didn’t have to wait long before a group of other cadets stepped forward and one of them took the end of the rope. “I’ll secure you Hutchinson, but you are sure you know what you’re doing? Maybe we should wait for the rescue-team…?”
“No time for that Donovan…and yes I know what I’m doing…not the first time I’ve climbed down a rock, believe me. Just make sure you guys hold me tight, okay? And make sure that you don’t slip over the edge, I can’t fly…!”
“We know you’re blonde, Hutchinson so you don’t have to act like a bimbo, okay. You owe us a beer tonight…”
“You got it, promise.” The man smiled, went on his knees and step by step climbed over the ledge.
“Okay…”He shouted down to the form that desperately clung at the rock face. “Don’t move…I’m coming…It’ll take a while so don’t run out of patience.”
The small figure moved slowly its head and tried to look up at him.
“I said don’t move…don’t look up!” Hutchinson growled and looked for a foothold.
“J-Just wanna know who the c-crazy guy is. I’m dead meat…You’ll fall down…don’t come after me…” Came back was the whispered reply.
“No, I won’t fall…take it easy…it’ll be over soon.”
“Easier said t-than done, Blondie…I’ve seen better days…”
“Shut up, will ya’? And don’t you ever call me Blondie, Curlyhead, or I’ll forget all my good intentions and climb up again…Hey…you up there…I need more rope, I’m almost there.” Carefully and one step after the other the cadet climbed down to the scared man. All the time he talked to him, tried to calm him with his voice and encourage him to hold still although he himself was scared down into his bone too.
All this because of a year-end test and false pride.
But today their instructor had irritated them up to their eyeballs, especially the dark-haired Starsky.
Jenkins hated David Starsky, hated the way he did things and how he behaved. Without fail, Starsky said what he thought and didn’t live by the rules of the academy and that pushed Jenkins into a rage. The worst thing was that he was the best in the class in every practical field. Hutchinson didn’t know why, but for some reason he was in awe of him, maybe because he had his own differences with Jenkins too and he didn’t like how Jenkins punished Starsky. Jenkins tried to push Starsky at every possible opportunity and then, when he had found out where his weakness was, he pitilessly used this to his advantage.
And Starsky’s only weakness was heights.
So it happened that their last test before the winter vacations began was to run the barricade course including climbing up a nearly fifty yard high rock.
And Jenkins decided to push the cadets even more by having them do this without wearing a safety rope.
‘That’s why I’m hanging forty yards above the ground. Only because this stubborn mule was too proud to accept his weakness. He would rather fall down the rock and break his neck, than ask anybody for help.’
‘And you’re as stubborn as he is, Hutch.’
‘Yeah…I know Grandpa…oh boy…I’m still talking to a man who’s been dead for over ten years now…’
Hutchinson shook his head to clear his thoughts. A few small stones separated from the rock face and fell down when his feet searched for a new place to brace himself, and his rope dangerously swung back and forth.
‘Concentrate Hutchinson, you will be no good for the boy down there if you fall down now.’
“Hey… you up there…you’re still with me? I’m kind of lonesome here!”
He heard the quiet voice of the man hanging under him. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew from the way Starsky was talking that he was more than only frightened: he was terrified like a little boy and he still wasn’t ready to accept that fact.
“Yeah…got some problems here, but I’m on my way. So tell me…what are you doing here? Couldn’t you find a better place for a picnic?”
The blonde cadet started his comforting chatter to calm down the panicked Starsky and himself.
He heard a soft giggle. “Well, what shall I say…I was looking for a very quiet place. Think I found it…”
“Sure you did…but next time find a place with better room service, okay? You should complain about the service here.”
“Will do…when I have steady ground under my feet again…promise.”
Carefully the dark-haired cadet looked up and met Hutchinson’s eyes. “You’re crazier than I thought…but I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re so crazy…” A small smile spread across his face, and his dark blue eyes lost their fear for a second. “Think we can make it?”
“Of course…don’t want to pick up your sorry ass from the ground down there and what’s more important…I don’t want to fail in that last audit, you know…so I decided to collect some more points to get an A+…”
“Jerk…”
“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you…”
“Touché…So…what took you so long?”
“Another Jerk named Jenkins…”
“Oh, Mister Perfect himself…how do we look then?”
“You don’t wanna know…” Hutchinson lifted his head to the top of the rock. “Hey Donovan… I’m with him now. I need some time to secure him with the safety-belt. Hold the rope as still as you can, and when I say up, you lift us up, understand?”
“Yeah, but hurry…it’s not much fun up here!” Donovan shouted back.
“It’s no fun for us down here either.” Hutchinson murmured under his breath and began to wrap the belt around Starsky’s hip. “Okay Starsky…I need some space between you and the rock to get the belt around your body. You’re sticking to the wall like a fly…hey don’t move so much…you’re ticklish or what?”
“N-No… don’t wanna move…don’t wanna fall down…”
Suddenly Starsky clung even harder to the rock wall, incapable of moving even an inch. He pressed his face against the wall and started to tremble uncontrollably. “S-Sorry…can’t…”
“Sssh…Dave…it’s okay…relax, I’m with you now. Let me do all the work, just relax. Everything’s fine.” The blond soothed and put his hand on one of Starsky’s trembling shoulders, meaning to comfort.
However, Starsky winced with the touch, startled, and tried to turn away.
He lost his hold and slipped off.
“HUTCH!”
It was just a whisper, a quiet cry, but it echoed in Hutchinson’s head like a kettledrum.
Later he couldn’t remember exactly what happened after Starsky slid off the wall; all he knew was that suddenly he was holding Starsky’s heavy body in his arms. He dangled on the rope, saw the rock wall coming nearer and nearer and heard the shouts above him.
Both slipped some yards into the depth.
Starsky struggled in his clasp as if he wanted to free himself. Hutchinson tightened his grip around Starsky’s chest; he thought his shoulders would rip out of their sockets. Because of the unexpected movements, he crashed into the wall and let out a shout of pain when his back was smashed into the sharp stones.
Starsky struggled again.
“No…NOOO…don’t wanna fall…DON’T!” He cried out in panic.
“Starsky! Stop fighting me! I won’t let you fall, you hear me? I’m still with you! Just hold still, will ya’?” He whispered. “Dave…please, stop that…”
It took all of his willpower to calm down the man in his grip. He could feel Starsky digging his fingernails into his upper arms, but after a while he somewhat relaxed and stopped struggling.
“That’s better Dave…you’re doing good, it won’t be long until we’re back on the ground, promise. Just keep still, okay?”
Starsky didn’t say a word, but Hutchinson heard his violent breath along with some suppressed moans, and it was obvious that Starsky was still fighting with his demons.
It seemed to Hutchinson as if their rescue lasted hours, but it took only a few minutes before someone pulled him with a jerk over the ledge. Completely exhausted, he remained lying on his back and gasped for air, his eyes closed. He felt someone trying to lift the heavy load from his chest, but his arms and hands were so tense, they had to pry them open by force to relieve him of his burden.
Someone bent over him and slapped his face.
“Hey Hutchinson…you okay? Man, that was the craziest thing I ever saw…You hurt somewhere?”
It was Donovan who talked to him, and it took Hutchinson some time to clear his vision. With a groan he rolled onto his side and leant on one forearm. He saw Starsky lying on the ground beside him, breathing heavily, his eyes wide open, but Hutchinson wasn’t sure if he could see him or not.
“No…no…some bruises on my back…but I think I’m okay…you’ll help me up so I can check on him?”
With clear lack of understanding in his expression, Donovan helped him to his feet, but Hutchinson took a dive to the ground. His legs felt like jelly and trembled so violently, he immediately fell on his knees and a feeling of sickness welled up in him.
“Whoa, whoa… what do you think you’re doing here? We better call an ambulance to check you both out…”
“Don’t need an ambulance…” Hutchinson growled out. “Just wanna see if the guy is alright…” With the help of Donovan he stumbled back to the still motionless Starsky and gathered his head into his lap.
“Starsky…hey Dave…you’re safe now…we made it, you hear me, we made it.” He mumbled and waited for Starsky to react in some way.
A weak smile rushed over the dark-haired man’s face when he finally came around.
“D-Doing…doing fine…what…what took you so long?”
“Let’s wait how he’s doing after I’m done with him. What do you think you were doing, disobeying my orders?”
An angry voice shouted behind Hutchinson and Donovan was pushed aside. Now Jenkins stood beside him, his arms crossed over his chest, his face flushed red with fury and sweat pearls covering his forehead. He looked as if he was ready to explode. He grabbed Hutchinson by his collar, jerked him on his feet again and shook him to and fro.
“I told you to wait but you have to play the hero. What if you had both fallen down, huh? You’re under my command here and you have to do what I tell you to do and nothing more. Have you understood that for once and for all, Cadet Hutchinson? After that stunt I could expel you from the academy…”
Jenkins was a strong man, and he was made even stronger by fury, but he hadn’t calculated on the sudden counter weight of his victim. With a quick body rotation, Hutchinson escaped from Jenkins’ clutch on him; he swung, and his powerful right hook crashed into Jenkins precisely on his chin. Everybody heard the crunching noise when Hutchinson’s fist hit Jenkins’ jawbone.
As if he was stuck by lighting the Sergeant fell to ground and remained lying there without moving. Blood ran down from his mouth and dripped onto the ground. Hutchinson stood in front of him swaying dangerously, he wheezing as if he just had run a marathon. A sharp pain shot through his arm and into his right wrist. He clutched the injured limb against his chest and bit down his pain.
“My grandfather taught me I have to obey the orders of my superiors. But he said nothing about obeying senseless orders. Your order could have killed a man… I… I … thought once I could be proud of being a police officer…but not this way. This is not my way…” He gasped out in a husky voice.
Stunned and unable to do anything, Starsky watched as Hutchinson ran away as if the devil himself were after him, not looking back even once. The other cadets stood there, not knowing what to do next until one of them sprinted back to the academy and called for help. Starsky was still too weak to move a muscle and so he fell back to the ground and stared into the blue sky.
‘Someone has to look after this guy, and that someone’s gotta be me, I guess.’
Finding
He didn’t know what woke him up in the first place. Maybe it was the constant throbbing in his hand or maybe the coldness in the lodge or a noise, a noise from somewhere else intruding on his subconscious. But it didn’t matter. His deep dreamless sleep was over, and he curled up in a ball to push back the coldness in the lodge.
‘Should have stocked the fire before falling asleep…it’s cold like a fridge in here.’
He had to have slept longer than he had thought, because it was getting dark, and the burnt down fire in the stove donated only meager light.
Suddenly he heard the strange noise again and it took him some time to work out where it came from.
Someone was at his front door.
With a blanket firmly tied around his shaking body, he got up and shuffled to the door, not sure what to do.
“Someone out there?!”
“Of course! It’s Santa Claus! Open the damn door, I’m freezing!”
“What the hell…” He opened the door and was immediately pushed aside by a colossal big fir tree followed by a frozen and snowy David Starsky.
“Yes, what the hell are you doing here in this wilderness, Hutch? It’s easier to find a needle in a haystack than you!”
Starsky stamped his feet to get the cold out of his limbs and rubbed his hands. “Heaven it’s cold in here! Have you forgotten to pay the electricity bill or what?”
Hutchinson stared at Starsky as if he was a visitor from Mars.
Starsky seemed as if he didn’t expect or even noticed the winter weather. He only wore a leather jacket, jeans and his now totally soaked blue sneakers.
“What… where…why…?” He stammered, over and over again staring first at Starsky and then at the fir tree.
“Your comprehensive vocabulary tells me that you watch Sesame Street regularly!” Starsky grinned broadly. “What about: It’s so nice you are here, please take a seat? Can I offer you some hot tea…”
“Damn it! Shut your mouth!” It slipped out of Hutchinson. “How did you get here? How the heck did you find me? What are you doing here?”
“First: By car. Second: I would like to become a detective sometime, remember? Third: My mother raised me well; she would be disappointed in me if I forgot all my good manners. And before you ask further: I thought it was a good idea!”
Without waiting he pressed the fir tree into Hutchinson’s hand and took off his wet jacket. Then he knelt beside the fireplace, added some of the split wood to the glow, and waited until the weakly glowing embers became a powerful fire again. While he warmed his fingers he looked up and couldn’t keep back from laughing any longer.
“You look good as a Christmas tree holder! Want to hold onto the tree forever? You can let him go. It has a stand!”
Hutchinson rolled his eyes and on command let go of the tree. A thousand thoughts went round in his head, but he suppressed the growing wish to rush towards Starsky and shake him, until he told him why he was there. It didn’t seem to disturb him that Hutchinson still stared at him completely confused, and when he finally noted that it didn’t matter one whit to Starsky, he furiously stamped back to his bed without saying another word and sat down.
Starsky was still crouching before the fireplace and warmed up his stiffly frozen fingers, without letting him out of sight for a moment.
In the end, he got up, went over to the window and looked out.
“Oh boy Hutch, a storm is brewing outside. I’d better fetch the rest of my stuff from the car before it’s snowed in completely. Will you come along and help me?”
Hutchinson lifted his hands in defense.
“Hey stop, wait a moment. What…what the hell are you doing? You drive 2,000 miles straight through America, okay, I don’t know why, but, that was your decision. Now you are here and…and…” Helpless he fumbled for words.
“Correct! And now I want to fetch my stuff from the car! Got a problem with it?!”
“Oh yes! I have a problem with you suddenly standing in front of my door with a fir tree and thinking you can move in with me! I didn’t invite you, so what are you doing here? And please explain it to me so that I can understand it. I’m not in the mood for your crazy jokes, do I make myself clear? And why do you constantly call me ‘Hutch’? That’s not my name! Curlyhead!” Hutchinson ranted; now his voice was so full of anger that even Starsky winced involuntarily.
“What should I call you then?” Starsky barked back, all on edge now.
“What about my first name?!”
“Kenneth???”
“Yes, David Michael Starsky! ‘Kenneth’ or ‘Ken’ if you want. This is my name! Not ‘Blondie’ or ‘Hutch’!” Hutchinson exclaimed triumphantly. “Why don’t you call me Ken?!”
Red faced Starsky stared at him. Now it was his turn to fumble for words. “Because I don’t like to call you something so…” He whispered to himself.
“What?!”
“It’s just…,” he stuttered. “I thought…” His voice failed, and he cleared his throat to give his voice a steady tone again.
“Ah, I thought it would be a good idea to thank the man who risked his life for me.” Starsky whispered and looked firmly in Hutchinson’s eyes. “And I wanted to ask the man why he did such a crazy thing and then disappeared then without a trace. I thought you would do something stupid…”
Hutchinson raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And that would be what? Getting a job in the mountain rescue service?!”
“I give up! Leaving the academy for example…or worse…”
The blond man let out a hoarse laugh. “I don’t think you have to leave. Attacking his instructor is one of the stupidest things a cadet can do and, it doesn’t exactly contribute to the cadet finishing his training successfully! But that isn’t the reason why you drove through half the country, or am I wrong?”
“Uhh…well, I…”
A loud knocking at the door startled both of them.
Questioningly Hutchinson looked at Starsky and got up once more. “Who else have you invited to this party, Starsky? Jenkins maybe?!” He snorted furiously and opened the door, but this time, only a crack. In the darkness he saw a bright red face surrounded by hair that was bathed in sweat.
“Oh thank God… when I saw the car and the light I hoped somebody was here…please open the door, this is an emergency!”
“My quota of emergencies is covered…”
“Please, sir…my wife…she’s out there, please we have to help her.”
Hutchinson quizzically glanced over to Starsky and for some reason–and Starsky didn’t know why–he could understand his silent question.
‘What do you think?!’ He seemed to ask.
Starsky looked through the window. Then he reached instinctively for a frying pan sitting on the range. He hid it behind his back then he stepped beside Hutchinson and nodded silently. ‘Whatever he wants, I’ll watch your back.’
Hutchinson slowly opened the door and the man hurried in. He was as tall as Starsky and was also close to his age. He wore jeans, an absolutely soaked sweatshirt and boots. He shivered with cold although beads of sweat ran in streams down his face, and his fingers were frozen blue.
“I…I…please, my wife urgently needs help…she’s outside…” The man stammered; there was no doubt about it: he was in shock. “Please, you must help me…” He grabbed Hutchinson by his upper arms and tried to pull him with him outdoors.
“Hey man, calm down first!” Reassuringly Starsky laid a hand on the anxious man’s shoulder. “You’re completely frozen, come in first and get warm. What’s your name?” With gentle power he loosened the grip around Hutchinson’s arms, simultaneously throwing a warning look at him.
‘Something is wrong with the guy…’
Almost indiscernibly Hutchinson shook his head.
‘I’ll go with him…’
Starsky’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You’re not going anywhere with him…’
‘Then I guess you’ll have to come with me!’
The man had watched their silent dialog; desperately he looked at Starsky and Hutchinson.
“Please, my name is Warren, Jack Warren. Our car broke down a few miles away and we continued on foot, then the weather got worse… Please believe me, please!”
“Okay Jack, calm down, everything’s fine. This is Dave Starsky and I’m Ken Hutchinson, we’re coming with you.” Hutchinson tried to calm down the agitated man again while he reached for his coat. “Starsky, there in the cupboard are flashlights. And get a blanket, I think we’ll need it.” And with a look that brooked no contradiction he added in silence.
‘No discussions now, we talk later.’
Cursing silently Starsky looked for the flashlights and the blanket; he didn’t like the scenario. Something disturbed him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
‘Someday your charity will break your neck, but this time I won’t watch idly. You don’t play the hero again!’
The storm had increased in intensity and the temperatures had fallen below freezing. Three men trudged through the deep snow and scanned the area in the light of the flashlight.
“How long will it take? Where exactly did you leave your wife?” Hutchinson asked and wiped the snow out of his eyes.
“There was a fallen tree…” Jack murmured under his breath. “Wait, yes, there…over there, there it is, it has to be!” He tore the lamp out of Hutchinson’s hand and ran off.
“I hope you’re not yanking our chains, Jack!” Starsky growled quietly and rushed after the man. “The snow will be the last of your problems if we don’t find your wife there…”
Jack had already arrive at the fallen tree and knelt down in the snow. In the light of the flashlight Starsky could make out a doubled up form lying on the ground.
“Mara? Oh thank God we found you! Mara… I found you some help, now we get you out of here! Can you hear me?” Jack raised the head of the woman and shook her gently. “Mara…Honey… please open your eyes…”
The young woman let out a loud groan and murmured something incomprehensible words; her eyes remained closed.
“Jack…” Now Hutchinson too knelt beside him on the ground and felt for the pulse, his expression one of concern for a barely conscious woman. The woman was covered with a coat, but her ice-cold skin and ashen face disturbed him. The fact that her pulse was very weak and very slow alarmed him even more. “Starsky, give me the blanket!” he said in a hurry. “Jack, how long has she been lying here?”
“I…I don’t know…”
“She’s almost frozen to death.” He noticed in shock and wrapped the blanket around the woman.
“Oh God…The baby!”
“What?!” exclaimed Hutchinson and Starsky at the same time.
“She…she’s pregnant!!!”
Horrified, both men glanced at each other and both could read the thoughts of the other.
“Starsky…run! We need water and all blankets you can find. Take Jack with you; he should help you!”
“And you?!”
“I’ll look after Mara…now run!” Hutchinson put the woman’s arm around his shoulder and raised her up.
Starsky nodded wildly and pulled Jack with him back to the cabin.
Their sprint back seemed to last forever and they had almost reached the cottage when Hutchinson suddenly tripped and fell into the snow. Starsky heard a suppressed cry of pain behind him and stopped immediately.
“Damn it!”
“Hutch? Hutch, what’s wrong?” In a split second Starsky was at his side.
“I…I…slipped…can’t hold her anymore! You have to take her!”
“What?! Wait…I…I got her…” Starsky took over carrying the limp body, but had to fight himself not to drop her while Hutchinson fell to his knees in front of him. Groaning he pressed his right arm against his body.
“Go, Starsky, go, I’m okay.” He pressed out with a pain-consumed face.
“Of course you’re okay…Jack, something’s wrong with him, you have to help him, come on now, we have to hurry!” Starsky urged.
Hutchinson furiously glared at him, but the piercing ache in his hand almost knocked him out and finally he gave up. He nodded in agreement. “Okay …but hurry up.”
Jack grabbed him under his armpits and together they made the last yards to the cabin.
Jack pushed the door open to let Starsky in and followed on his heels, immediately looking for blankets and towels. Carefully Starsky laid the woman down on the bed and Hutchinson started to pull off her shoes and socks. Starsky noticed that he could only use his left hand while he cradled his apparently injured right against his chest. Obviously he was still in pain because he didn’t manage to suppress a soft groan. But instinctively Starsky knew that now was not the right time to talk with him about it.
“Starsk…I need the blankets and what about the water?” Hutchinson asked impatiently.
“Everything’s here…but, the water isn’t hot yet!”
“We don’t need hot water now…Have a look at her hands and feet.” He pointed to the slightly bluish colored extremities. “We have to warm up her hands and feet very carefully, but first with only tepid water to restore the blood circulation. By no means with hot water, that would burn the skin. Jack, take her feet and start to massage them carefully and you Starsky control the water so it doesn’t become too hot. And give me the blankets.”
Carefully he wrapped the blankets around the woman. That was when he saw her extremely rounded belly and let out an audible moan. “Jezz…Jack how far along is she?” he asked hardly audible.
Jack helplessly twitched his shoulders.
“I…I don’t know…she said it wouldn’t be much longer…” Nervously he looked at Hutchinson. “But she won’t have the child now, or?” Desperately he grabbed at Hutchinson’s right forearm.
Hutchinson suppressed a yell. He cradled the limb against his chest, his face suddenly snow-white, and he hit the hand aside, swearing quietly.
“Man, don’t ask me, but I’m afraid your forced march wasn’t the best idea…Starsky help me…we have to warm her up…” He grunted out, still holding his right arm protectively against his chest. Starsky had noticed the little incident.
“Okay, Hutch, that’s enough, I’ve got eyes…It’s obvious that you’re hurt and need a break. So sit down and let me have a look at your arm.” He said in a decisively tone.
Hutchinson looked up. “It’s not that bad, think I sprained it when I slipped in the snow, okay? We’ve got more important things to do right now…so are you gonna help me here or what?”
“I have to…since you’re a little handicapped…”
“Then stop joking and listen to me…”
He explained briefly to Starsky what had to be done, and Starsky was more than a little surprised at Hutchinson knowing exactly what to do. And the concerned look and deep furrows on his friend’s forehead showed him how dangerous the situation was. After what seems like hours of constantly changing the water’s temperature, wrapping towels around Mara’s hands and feet and massaging the cold limbs Hutchinson was satisfied with Mara’s condition although she was still unconscious.
Exhausted he stood up and stumbled to the kitchen corner. With a glance he asked Starsky to join him.
“Okay Starsk… for now she’s fine, but I don’t know how the baby’s doing.” He ascertained with relief and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But my biggest worry is that her water will break and the baby will come right here. When she wakes up, we have to calm her down. Any excitement could be a problem for her or the baby. We should have something ready for her to drink when she wakes up. You can do that? I’ll check and see if I can find a few warm clothes for her.”
“Sure…” Starsky nodded.
‘But we two are not ready yet, Hutchinson…’
The blond man rummaged through the closet while Starsky prepared some hot coffee.
“Hey Dave, Ken…I think she’s coming around!” Jack’s nervous voice caused both men to look up.
“What’s the matter Jack?” Hutchinson sat beside the bed and took Mara’s still cold hand into his.
The woman groaned quietly and started to stir. She turned her head in his direction, opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion. “J-Jack?!”
Hutchinson softly glided his fingers over her face and his tense features changed into a reassuring smile. “No, Mara, I’m Ken, you’re safe now, everything’s fine. How do you feel?” He asked with a soft voice.
“‘M…c-cold…Where am I? My hands hurt a-and my feet…where’s Jack? Where are the others?” She trembled in spite of the blankets and her teeth clattered violently. Searching, she looked around.
“I’m here darling…I’m fine!” Jack bent down to her. “Just relax, you’re safe now!”
“The other men…where are they?”
Starsky and Hutchinson looked at each other, both concerned by Mara’s talking but unsure how to stop her.
“There’re no other men; you must have been dreaming…”
“But Jack…I ran…the baby…the baby, is it all right?”
“Sssh Mara, it’s okay, you don’t have to worry.” Hutchinson said soothingly, and Starsky was fascinated by how quickly Hutchinson managed to calm the excited woman down by using only his gentle voice.
“The baby’s doing fine; you’re the one we’re all worried about. You’re in pain?”
“No-no I don’t think so…just cold…Sorry…tired…” She mumbled and closed her eyes.
“No, no, no Mara, you have to stay awake. “Hutchinson urged and shook her gently. “I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake for me, here…talk to Jack.” He took Jack by his sleeve and pushed him to Mara’s side. “Talk about your baby, okay and I’ll get you something to drink. But stay awake for me, please.”
“But I’m tired…and urgh…” Suddenly Mara pressed her hands over her belly. “Oh God…the baby…the baby…I…”
“What Mara? What is it?” Hutchinson asked worriedly.
“I…I think…my water….it broke…” Mara gasped out, her eyes full of tears. “Please, no…I don’t want to have the baby now! Don’t, please not now…”
“Let me see, Mara…” Hutchinson soothed. He pushed the covers aside and after some minutes he nodded his head.
“Yes…you’re right your water broke…but that’s not that bad Mara, as long as you’re not in labor we still have 24 hours…
“And then?” Jack asked in a nervous tone.
“We worry about that when we have to!”
“But you’ve got a car outside. Why we don’t drive her to a hospital?”
“You remember the snow storm? No chance, it’s too dangerous. We could get stuck in the snow.”
“But we have to do something! There’re…”
“There’re what?” Starsky asked, suddenly remembering what Mara said when she woke up. “What didn’t you tell us?”
“Can we discuss this later?” Hutchinson hissed quietly and angrily glared at Starsky. “Mara is still too cold. We have to warm her and make her as comfortable as possible. Jack you lift her up and Starsky…we have to change the sheets and her clothes.”
After that was done, Starsky didn’t wait any longer. He stood up and gave Jack a sign to come with him. He saw that Hutchinson also stood up to go to the table to get himself some coffee. But before he could reach the table he swayed dangerously and would have fallen face down to the ground if Starsky wasn’t there to keep him from falling. He doubled over in obvious pain and clutched his right arm into his lap.
“Shit…Starsky…” He grunted out. “Help me up…”
“Hut…ah Ken…what’s wrong with you?” Starsky asked concerned and–counter to what Hutch had asked–used all his strength to keep him down.
“‘S nothing…just my hand…”
“Let me see.” Starsky ordered and tried to grab the hand in question but Hutchinson pulled it away.
“Leave it alone…I told you it’s just sprained.” His voice was muffled. “Just used it too much…”
“When it’s only sprained then it wouldn’t hurt too much to check it out, so let me see. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, so which way do you choose, Hutchinson?” Starsky’s unyielding glance allowed no resistance and with a deep sigh Hutchinson finally gave up and allowed Starsky to get a better look at his injured hand.
“Damn it Hutch…” Starsky barked out when he took the hand into his own and saw the abnormal swelling and the black and blue bruises around the wrist. He immediately remembered the dreadful noise when Hutchinson’s fist had hit Jenkins’ jaw.
Hutchinson glared at him and pulled back his hand. “I told you not to…”
“I don’t care what you told me…you’ve got a broken wrist, that’s what I care about! And you didn’t hurt it when you slipped in the snow, did you? It happened when you hit Jenkins, and that was three days ago! Why didn’t you go to a hospital?”
“Oh back off! Since when you are a doctor, Curlyhead?” Hutchinson hissed out between gritted teeth. “It’s only sprained…”
“Yeah, and reindeers fly…it’s broken and you know it. At sunrise we get you and Mara to a doctor, end of discussion! But till then, you need a splint for that arm…”
“I don’t need a splint, all I need is…”
“No…now you back off! Don’t try to be as pigheaded as I am! I always win this game!” Angrily Starsky looked at Hutchinson, but then his features softened and he crouched down beside him, softening his voice. “So, how about I get us a cold beer?”
Puzzled Hutchinson looked up. “Sorry, what?!”
“I’ve got some canned beer in my car. Hopefully they’re not frozen…”
“I don’t think I can handle a beer now…”
“Sure you can…And then I’ll take care of that hand of yours.” Warningly he raised a hand to bar Hutchinson from saying anything against the plan. “Nope, no discussion about that Hutch. Then you’re gonna tell me about your short guest performance as a doctor, understand?”
Too tired to answer Hutchinson nodded his head yes.
Satisfied Starsky stood up and headed for the door when Hutchinson called him back.
“Starsk…”
The dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder.
“Yep?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Uh…for the fir tree! For hanging around with me, you dummy!”
‘Oho…that was not so easy for him…’
“Oh…told you that my mother raised me well!” He glanced at Hutchinson and an amused smile spread over his face. “But tell me…since when did I agree to let you to call me ‘Starsk’? I only allow my friends to call me that!”
The blonde man raised a brow. “Well I think since I allowed you to call me ‘Hutch’!” Ken ‘Hutch’ Hutchinson said in quite tone, glancing back at David Starsky. His eyes sparkled with joy.
Caring
“Be back in a minute!” Starsky laughed, opened the door and stepped into the dark night. The storm intensified and the door shut back in the jamb with a crashing sound.
Tiredly Hutch closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He was still sitting there on the ground, totally drained and too weak to even raise a finger.
But his brain worked overtime. Too much had happened in the last four hours and he had to admit that he was more than a little glad that this curly-haired nut case had suddenly appeared in front of his door.
He couldn’t even begin to explain it, but for some reason ever since Starsky had arrived, he’d enjoyed every minute. He had even begun to like his stupid jokes and was getting used to his mother-henning. It just felt good not to be alone anymore.
He looked at Mara and Jack; it seemed as if Mara finally had fallen asleep; her husband was holding her hand and mumbling soothing words into her ear.
Hutch smiled; maybe he did something right…
With a loud noise, the door slammed open once more and Starsky stepped in, but this time not alone. Three men were following him, and one of them had wrapping an arm around his neck and aiming a gun at Starsky’s head.
“Sorry Hutch.” He pressed out, never letting Hutch out of sight. “Guess I have some company…”
“Shut the fuck up, Curly.” The man barked out and tightened the grip around Starsky’s neck. “Just one word and you’ll eat this bullet! Got that?”
“Got it…” Starsky croaked out and gasped for air.
And before Hutch could react, one of the other men was at his side and holding him at gunpoint, telling him in no uncertain terms not to move even a muscle.
“So, gentlemen… what do we have here?” The man holding Starsky glanced over to the bed noticing Jack and Mara. “The Lady and her Knight! Jack, Jack, Jack…!” Disappointed the man shook his head. “You really found her! Not the best idea you ever had! If you hadn’t found her, she would be safe now. So, any explanations from you about why you ran away? You would have saved yourself a whole heap of trouble if you hadn’t, my friend!”
“I’m not your friend, Steward Mayers. And I would never abandon Mara! What do you want?” Jack asked with an angry voice.
The man who was called Mayers giggled. “You ask me what I want?! You know what I want. Where are the rest of the diamonds?”
“I told you before; I don’t have more diamonds, Mayers. I gave you all I got!”
“Liar!”
“I’m not a liar, I told you the truth, Jerry gave me everything he had; ask him if you don’t believe me!”
“Well, I asked him, but unfortunately he also didn’t tell me the truth and I had to punish him…”
“You did what? You mean you killed him?” Jack gasped out in horror.
“Well, he’s dead now…it was an accident…” Mayers shrugged his shoulders. “So I think you don’t want to have an accident too…or maybe Mara!” His smile was as cold as ice. “So, you want to tell me anything, Jack?”
“I can’t tell you something I don’t know…”
“Okay…sorry for interrupting you…”
Mayer turned round at the sound of Hutch’s voice. “Who allowed you to talk? Shut up or we’ll have another accident here!” Mayers threatened Hutch with his gun.
“What if he told you the truth?” Hutch asked in a hurry, clearly aware of the danger they all were in. “As far as I understand, you hired Jack to bring you some diamonds, but some were missing, right?”
Mayers shook his head yes.
“What if Jack told you the truth and Jerry didn’t give him all the diamonds? What if he kept the remaining ones himself?”
Only with effort could Starsky suppress a grin as he understood what Hutch was planning. He tried to make eye contact with him.
‘Damn it Hutch, what you’re planning is dangerous, but go on… You nearly got him.’
Mayers tossed Starsky to the ground and gave the red-haired man beside him a sign to watch him. Mayers rushed over to Hutch and crouched down in front of him, playing with his gun all the time.
“What makes you so sure that Jerry betrayed me, huh?” He glanced at Hutch, his face as hard if it was carved in stone.
“The greed for more?”
Mayers smiled thinly, bent down closer to Hutch and whispered in his ear. “You son of a bitch… He was my brother…”
He jammed his fist into Hutch’s stomach and roared: “Ritchie! Bring me the woman!”
“NOOO!” Starsky cried out. He whirled around, slammed both fists into his guard’s face and rushed towards Jack and Mara. But before he could reach them, the red-haired man recovered from the attack and threw himself on Starsky and started to punch his chest and head.
“Starsky! Don’t!” Hutch cried out under his breath when he saw Starsky go down. He struggled to fight against his captor, but Mayers gave him no chance. Helplessly he had to watch the red-haired man and Ritchie beat the shit out of Starsky. He heard him crying out in pain and saw blood trickling out of his mouth and nose, with more blood running down his left cheek. He fought with all his power, but the blows hit him hard and he doubled over in pain unable to catch his breath. But the worst thing was that all the time Starsky held his gaze, his dark blue eyes fixed on him like a silent prayer not to move.
And that was too much for him.
With all the strength he could muster, he bucked with his whole weight against Mayers, flung him against the wall and rushed towards the other men. He whipped Ritchie around by the collar and kneed him in the gut. Then, like a wild animal he threw himself at the redhead and hammered his fist into his ribs. That was when he heard the sound of a shot.
He looked into Starsky’s shocked face, saw the left side of his shirt was covered in blood. Without even feeling it, he took a couple of steps forward to catch Starsky’s fall, but a murderous blow on the back of his head floored him and before he even had a chance to get back on his feet again, someone from behind grasped his right arm and twisted it up against his back.
The pain was excruciating.
Hutch screamed out in pain, felt bones crushing and he curled up into a ball. As if he was looking through a fog that was becoming thicker and thicker, he saw Starsky lying on the ground in his own blood, his eyes still open. Starsky opened his mouth and with his last attempt before he blacked out Starsky mouthed only one word.
“Why?”
Something exploded in Hutch’s head; he went down like a rag doll and fell into a deep blackness. He didn’t hear the shocked shouts, didn’t notice how Starsky and he were hauled out of the cabin like pieces of meat and thrown into the small tool hut nearby the cabin.
Believing
He felt nothing but coldness. No, scratch that, he felt a constant knocking pain in his head as if a drummer was performing a new, experimental rhythm. He found it hard to open his eyes and was terrified when he noticed that, once he did, he couldn’t see a thing.
‘Okay, calm down, Hutchinson…might be a blackout…no wait, there’s no electricity in the cottage, and you forgot to stock up the fire. That’s the reason why it’s dark.’
Slowly he turned around and noticed that he was not lying in his bed but on the cold ground.
‘Damn…what the hell…’
He moved to sit up, but the constant knocking in his head morphed into an immense pain, and he nearly blacked out again. With a moan he fell back on the ground trying to remember how he ended up on the ground with the worst headache he ever had.
Like flashbacks, his foggy brain began to remember.
Starsky with a fir tree, the strange man at the door, finding the woman in the snow.
Starsky…
The memory of the curly-haired man immediately made him disregard all the pain in his head.
“Starsk…you’re here? Hey can you hear me?” He croaked out. “Come on…tell me you’re okay…”
He remembered the fight with the three goons. Then a shot and Starsky falling down to the ground, lying in a puddle of blood.
“STARSKY!” He yelled out in panic and started to fumble around on the ground to find him.
His eyes soon got used to the darkness and he saw a body lying on the ground a few feet away from him. Forgetting all his pain he started to crawl over to the unmoving form. That was when he noticed that he was unable to move his right arm that now dangled uselessly at his side.
‘Don’t have time for this now…Have to help Starsky.‘
“Starsk…come on, don’t do this to me…I’ll kick your sorry ass all the way back to Los Angeles if you do something stupid now.”
Somehow Hutch managed to crawl over to him and carefully turned him on his back. He winced when he saw Starsky’s whole face was coated in blood. He noticed an ugly laceration on the right side of his temple and ran his fingertips over Starsky’s face, finding an obvious broken left cheek bone.
He went on with his examination, concerned when he found Starsky’s upper body covered with bruises. Running his fingers over his friend’s ribcage, he noticed that at least three ribs were badly bruised if not broken. He found the still bleeding gunshot wound on Starsky’s left side but was relieved that it was only a flesh wound and that the bullet didn’t cause any internal damage. It would hurt like hell and he had to stop the bleeding, but after all that had happened Starsky was alive and that was what mattered most.
Hutch searched for a cloth to stop the bleeding from Starsky’s side. In the dark he couldn’t see much and with his own injuries slowing him down, was a long time before he managed to treat all the wounds. His right arm was still numb and right now Hutch was glad about that fact.
Starsky was still out like a light, not moving a muscle, and even though he was sure that Starsky couldn’t hear him, Hutch talked to him in a low voice constantly while he bandaged his head wound with a bandanna he had found in his hip pocket. He was concerned about Starsky’s cold and ashen face and the coldness in the hut, and as Starsky was wearing nothing more than his sweat shirt, he had to warm him up somehow. And so he dragged the floppy body single handedly to the wall. He slumped down, leant his back against the wall, spread out his legs in a V and gathered Starsky’s body against his chest, wrapping his good arm around the other man’s waist.
“Sorry…Might be not the best idea to move you around like this, but I have no other choice…” Hutch slurred, out of breath. He laid his chin atop Starsky’s head, feeling the slow heartbeat against his own chest. “This is a fine mess we got ourselves into, huh? Not the best idea to run after me! Should have stayed in L.A. you dummy!”
He hugged Starsky even closer. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but after a while he noticed that the man in his arms started to stir; Starsky’s head lolled from side to side and Hutch heard him mumbling incomprehensible words.
Hutch bent over him and looked into the bruised face.
“Hey Curlyhead…time to wake up…come on now, I’d actually really like to hear your awful jokes again…” He encouraged him, gently slapping his uninjured cheek. “I’m kind of lonely here, so wake up and tell me that you’re okay, please!”
Starsky half opened his eyes, his vision still blurry and unfocused. All of a sudden he struggled out of Hutch’s grip and tried to move away from his captor. But before he could climb to his feet, a wave of pain washed over him and he fell down back into Hutch’s lap, crying out in pain.
“Whoa…Starsk…don’t do this…it’s me, Hutch! Don’t move around, you’ve got some nice bumps that don’t need any more trouble. Just lay still and breathe!” He soothed the upset man and held him tight.
Starsky turned his head and stared bewilderedly at Hutch. “Hu-Hutch?” He asked in a husky voice. “W-What…urgh…hell, it hurts!”
“Sure it hurts…”
“Why…why does it hurt?”
“First tell me: what do you remember?”
“Not much…do I have to?”
“Have to know if there’s at least a little part of working brain in that thick skull of yours… You took some awful punches to your head.”
“Uh-huh…”
Hutch listened to Starsky’s ragged breaths. “Starsk? You still with me?” he asked concerned.
“Huh?” Starsky’s voice sounded weak and drained.
“No, no, no don’t fall asleep now, you hear me…”
“Asked me if I remember anything…well, I’m still thinking…”
“Can you do it a little bit louder then?”
“If I have to…” Starsky said tiredly and moved around to sit up.
“I should have checked out your ears too…I said don’t move! You’re really beaten up!” Hutch was at the end of his tether.
“I’ve been worse…”
“If you keep moving around you will, right…”
Starsky glared at him and smiled weakly.
“This time you won the ‘stubbornness of the day’ game…So, how do we look?”
“We’re a mess, that’s how we look.”
“Terrific…So what happened?”
Hutch sighed. “You tried to play superman and had a fight with three goons attacking our Christmas Guests!”
“Christmas Guests? Oh…Jack and Mara…so, did I win?”
“You won some broken ribs, a crushed cheek bone and probably a nice concussion. That enough?”
“Sounds like the jackpot to me…these goons still with Jack and Mara?”
“Think so…how do you feel?”
“Like I ran into three goons, shit…” Starsky suppressed a yelp when a burning pain exploded in his left side. A coughing fit caught him by surprise, and he pressed his arms against his aching chest. He grabbed Hutch by his sleeve and groaned out loud. “God…that really hurts…”
“It’s okay Starsk…” Hutch clutched him closer to his chest as if he could ease his pain. “I know it hurts, but the bullet only scratched the skin; it’s only a flesh wound.”
“A bullet? You forget to tell me that small detail…” Starsky spit out through gritted teeth waiting for the pain to pass away. “If it’s only a scratch, then why does it hurt so much?”
“Well, I told you not to move…”
“If you say so…” He felt silent, just lay there in Hutch’s lap and tried to regain some of his strength. He could feel Hutch’s touch and focused on it to help his arching body relaxed. For a minute or two he closed his eyes.
‘Don’t know why, but this guy is good at what he’s doing.’
After a while he turned around to Hutch. “So what do you think, what’s our plan?”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “Surviving this night would be a good plan…”
Starsky looked up at him, not sure if he was joking or not. “You know the goons are still with Jack and Mara?”
“Yeah…” Hutch replied quietly. “But we both are in no shape to perform another stunt right now. Need some time to rest…”
“But we have to help them!” Starsky said emphatically. “I thought you trusted Jack’s part of the story! We don’t have time to waste!”
“We will…Starsk…I just…” For some reason Hutch’s voice trailed off and a weariness greater than he’d ever known crept over him like a wave. He felt the adrenaline rush was over; he began to tremble and suddenly broke out in sweat. He groaned as he felt the coldness climbing up in his bones. And then the numbness in his injured arm was gone and a piercing pain shot through his shoulder and arm.
Starsky noticed the trembling in Hutch’s voice and heard him gasp out in pain.
“Hutch? You okay?”
“I…I…” Hutch slowly slipped to the side and let out a cry. “Starsk…”
“Hutch!”
Forgetting the pain he was in, Starsky crawled to Hutch’s side as fast as he could, and held the trembling body in his lap. And all of a sudden he remembered Hutch fighting with one of the criminals after he himself was knocked to the ground. And he remembered Hutch’s bloodcurdling scream when Mayers twisted his arm behind his back.
His injured arm.
He noticed Hutch had cradled his arm against his chest and clutched it with his left hand, trying to ride out every new pain wave.
“Easy Hutch, easy…let me see.” He said softly. “I’ll try not to hurt you, just stay with me, okay?”
Feebly Hutch nodded his head and then twitched when Starsky slowly and carefully loosened the grip around his limb with shaking fingers.
“Oh shit Hutch…” It slipped out of his mouth when he finally held the damaged arm in his hand. Gently he ran his fingers over Hutch’s forearm and felt bumps where there shouldn’t be any, the bones moving under his touch. Hutch moaned deeply, tears streaming down his face when he couldn’t hold back his pain any longer.
“Sorry…don’t want to be so wimpy…”
“It’s okay, Hutch…relax…I know it hurts…”
Starsky’s soothing words engulfed him like a warming blanket, and for the first time in years he allowed himself to be weak. His exhausted body slumped against Starsky’s, and he had to close his eyes when a sudden nausea crawled up his throat. He found it hard to think, and he called out for Starsky as if he was his last hope; the lighthouse in the dark.
“Starsk…”
“I’m here Hutch…” He heard the soft voice again and looked into two dark blue eyes full of grief. “This will hurt…Hutch….but I have to do it. Cry if you need…”
“Do…do what?”
“Have to splint that arm.”
Hutch eyed his arm. “Is it as bad as it feels?”
“Yeah…” Starsky had to swallow when he looked at the deformed arm. “It’s bad. It will hurt like hell, but I’ve got to splint it somehow. Remember, we talked about it some time ago…”
“T-thought you didn’t remember a thing…” Hutch whispered wearily.
“Only the important things…and that was one of them…so tell me, you got some branches or shelves in this shelter?”
Hutch’s arm waved to the side, and Starsky stumbled to his feet. After a few minutes he found some shelves and an old shirt. He went back to Hutch, knelt beside him and started to shred the shirt into makeshift bandages.
“Looks like you get to play the doctor now…” Hutch said ironically and eyed Starsky with little amusement when he knotted the last piece of cloth into a sling.
“Good point…” Starsky retorted. “How is it that you played the doctor so perfectly not so long ago?”
Hutch let out an exasperated laugh. “You never give up, huh?”
“Yep…one of my best qualities…So, I’m all ears…”
Hutch rolled his eyes again and let out a deep breath.
“Went to medical school for three years, but decided to put an end to it before things became worse…”
“Worse?” Starsky raised his brows. “What’s so bad about being a ‘well-paid’ doctor?”
He held the shelves around Hutch’s arm and began to wrap the bandages around it. Hutch suppressed a cry and turned his head to the side so Starsky couldn’t see some tears streaming down his cheeks.
‘Have to distract you somehow, keep you talking Hutch.’
And as if the man could read Starsky’s thoughts he began to talk in a low voice, first in harsh words, but then he talked his head off, as if someone had pulled a plug out of an overfull sea.
“Seeing all the people you couldn’t help no matter how hard you tried, that was worse. I worked in a social hospital, not the best place in Duluth. A lot of homeless people, criminals. They came into the ER, bloodied, with shattered bones, bullets in their bodies…crying for help and you did everything you could and they died in front of your eyes. I did what I could but it was never enough, I failed more than I won. My father was a doctor in the army. He told me that I wasn’t good enough in what I was doing; I had to work harder and stop being a softy.”
‘I always have to make a conscious decision, but you, you always want to help all people. Help everyone. Then you have to learn to make a choice… Some are not worth helping.’
Argh…Starsk…stop that! God!” Hutch stopped for a minute, holding his breath when the pain in his arm spiked again.
“Almost done…sorry…just…just a second.” Starsky pressed out, fighting with the bandages holding the shelves in place. “So your dad wanted you to be a tough guy?”
“Yeah…Think that was the reason why he forced me to go with him to Vietnam with his unit. To learn to be hard and to save people who are worth it. But…but I couldn’t do that, I saw so much blood and I… it almost broke my heart that I couldn’t already help the few people in the ER. How should I do it in a country where war ruled? What about the victims, the Vietnamese people?
My father called me a loser. I never could do anything right to him. He said that I was too weak, that I need to be strong, that my Country needs me and I have to learn to get my feelings under control and so on. He was more than mad, but I stayed at home in the hospital.”
He stopped for a while as if the memories were too strong.
‘Oh Blondie, your heart is bigger than the Rocky Mountains. And you’re so damn right with Vietnam…be glad that you were not there! Wonder what your father would tell you when he heard about you caring about a total stranger! You even risked your life to do justice to the demands of your father. But your father called you a Softy, a Loser… And nobody ever told you that you did the right thing and that you’re so damn good in what you’re doing.’
“But you can’t save everyone, Hutch!”
“But I wanted it…”
Hutch sighed deeply and continued.
“But things got worse…I…an addict attacked the ER, wanted some drugs. He had a gun and was shooting around erratically. I was standing beside a nurse; she made a move in my direction and she got hit in the belly. I…I really did everything I could…but she bled to death in my arms…I never forgot the look in her eyes. They were so full of hope; she trusted me, but I couldn’t help her. I had the chance but I failed again, as usual…” Hutch hissed out in pain when Starsky put the now splinted arm into a sling. “Jezz…Starsky that hurts…stop that, please!” He begged, feebly pushing him aside.
“Almost done…just a second…” Hurriedly Starsky adjusted the sling around Hutch’s neck. “What…what happened then, Hutch, huh? Tell me…”
It took Hutch some minutes to catch his breath, but eventually the pain abated and he went on with a husky voice.
“I stopped medical school and took a year of absence. Did some backpacking in Canada, went to Mexico, and saw some wonderful places, but…but all the time I felt…useless. I went back to Duluth, and my father tried to force me to go back to medical school but I couldn’t do it again, I told him that I wanted to leave Duluth and wanted to go to California to do something different. Something where I could help people in a better way…”
“And that was to become a cop?” Starsky asked in amusement. “Let me guess…he was anything but inspired?”
“He threw me out of the house.” Hutch said shortly. “I haven’t spoken to him since that day.”
“Oh…” Starsky kept silent for a moment. “So…why do you want to be a cop? Helping dealers, addicts, hookers before they end up in the morgue?”
“Maybe help them not to end up there in the first place…” Hutch met his eyes. “My father told me the same… ‘You won’t be able to save them! They are losers; they’re not worth helping. You’re too sensitive, and when it becomes difficult you always run away!’ he said, and he was right…I always run away…”
“But before you ran away you played superman and risked your life! You didn’t run away when I needed your help…” Starsky said quietly glancing at him, his deep blue eyes full of understanding. “And you didn’t run away when Jack or Mara needed your help… You did everything you could, you were always there… I saw you fighting with Mayers…without you three people would be dead, it’s that simple!”
“No, it’s not that simple…My father said caring for someone distracts you from your work. Makes it so you can’t focus anymore.”
“So what’s wrong about showing feelings?”
“You’re vulnerable when you do it, and you never know if the people you’re caring about will kick you in the ass some time later.” He whispered.
“Well I don’t know if my useless life is worth enough that you saved it, but it was definitely good that you showed your feelings when you hit Jenkins! And I wouldn’t have kicked your ass unless you had fallen down that rock…And what you performed on Mara…well I guess that wasn’t that bad. So forget the crap about being a Loser and too weak!”
“Well, I broke my wrist when I hit Jenkins, but that was worst of the trouble!” Hutch smiled shyly. “Has anybody told you that you’re a damn good listener?”
Starsky blushed. “Uh no…ah…so how do you feel…what about your arm?” he asked him, trying to change the subject.
“Feels broken, and as you said, hurts like hell…” Hutch looked down at his splinted arm. “You did a good job. Maybe you should become a doctor!”
Starsky shook his head vehemently. “Oh no, thank you, that would be your department! So, what shall we do now? Leave Jack and Mara alone? You were the one who trusted Jack first!”
Starsky climbed to his feet and limped over to the door to find it locked. So he walked over to the small window and looked out.
“And I still think he told Mayers the truth! But now we don’t have to react rashly. There are three goons, well-armed and we’re both hurt. So how do you think we should attack them? Perhaps we can convince them to let us all go…”
“You better come up with something better and very fast.” Starsky cut him of sharply. “We got company. You have got any weapons?” And without waiting for an answer he searched through a rack and found a bolt cutter. He rushed back to Hutch, pressed him to the ground and threw himself beside him.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Starsk…” Hutch murmured.
“Do I ever?!”
“During the last thirty minutes…no.”
“Then it’s time now. We’ve got surprise on our side; just play your part, okay?”
Hutch looked at him in disbelief.
“What part?”
“‘Sleeping Beauty’, dummy.” Starsky explained impatiently. “Now keep quiet, will ya’?”
Trusting
The two men heard the door opening; cold wind and snow blew into the shelter, and a shadow fell on them.
“Oh, that’s boring; both sleeping like little babies…okay, no risk no fun. I won’t make it so easy for you!” They heard the red haired man say. “So, it’s time to wake up, Curly!”
He went over to Starsky and started to kick him in his side. He expected a yelp or a groan, but what he didn’t expect was Starsky spinning around, snatching one foot with both hands and twisting it around. With a yelp, Redhead fell to the ground and in a second Starsky jumped to his feet and jammed the bolt cutter over Redhead’s head. The man led out a soft groan and lay without moving.
Breathing heavily Starsky dropped down to his knees, pressing his hand against his left side, his face consumed with pain. “I told you, nobody calls me Curly! I hope we haven’t bored you too much…”
Hutch got up slowly with a groan and looked first at Starsky and then at the unconscious man. “That was the craziest thing I have ever seen… Somehow I’m getting used to your surprises…”
“Then this must have been one of my better days…Let’s see if there’s something useful in his pockets.”
Together they turned the man onto his back and searched his pockets.
“Well look… a gun and a flashlight, everything we need!” Starsky exclaimed enthusiastically. “Come help me, we have to tie him up.”
With the help of the flashlight they tied up the man near a shelf with the rest of the shirt. Hutch stared at the gun in Starsky’s hand.
“Think he wanted to kill us…You have to let off two shots before we go.”
“Yeah, good point. So, any other ideas?”
“We only have a gun. I’ve got a busted arm, and you’ve got a hole in your side and more bumps and bruises than I can count. We’re both in no shape to fight with two kidnappers, right?”
“Told you… we have surprise on our side.” Starsky argued. “And we’ve got us…”
“Oh…Better me than nobody, huh? Glad that I’m your first choice! Sounds like we’re a team for now…”
Starsky’s eyes beamed with joy. “The best choice I’ve ever had. Only me and thee.”
Hutch looked at him puzzled.
“Me and thee, huh? Well that doesn’t sound so bad!” He held out Starsky his hand. “Help me up; I don’t like the idea that Jenkins’s favorite pupil will take all the credit.”
“I bet you don’t. So let’s get out of here!” He wrapped Hutch’s good arm around his shoulder and guided him to the door. Before they left, Starsky fired off two shots and shut the door behind them.
It was still snowing heavily, and the wind blew like a hurricane.
“We have to hurry… If their buddy won’t come back in time they’ll look for him.” Starsky quivered with cold.
Hutch nodded in understanding, and they snuck around the shelter until they stood in front of the cottage.
Starsky went to the corner and carefully looked through the window. After a few seconds he came back.
“Now what?” Hutch whispered. “Storm into the hut, yelling ‘Freeze! Police Cadets!’?”
“Hey, that’s not so bad! Okay, there’s one behind the door and one on the left side.”
“And what about Jack and Mara?”
“They’re alive, but they don’t look so happy. We have to hurry, I’ll will kick the door open, then I go in first. You go high and I’ll go low!”
“Just that simple?”
“Any better ideas? Remember, we have the element of surprise!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’m curious what Jenkins would think about that type of tactic!”
“He would like it! Okay Hutch…You ready?”
“As ready as I can be… But only use the gun when it’s absolutely necessary. You could hit Jack or Mara. And Starsk…”
“What?”
“Be careful!”
Hutch’s sky blue eyes looked at him, bright even in the dark, and Starsky could read so much in them, everything he couldn’t put into words. He squeezed Hutch’s shoulder and nodded.
‘Me and thee…’
“On three…one, two…”
“THREE!” They both yelled; Starsky kicked the door open, stormed in and threw himself on one of the criminals. They both fell to the ground and began to fight. Hutch saw Mayers whirling around to help his buddy. Knowing that he was in no shape to fight with him, Hutch frantically scanned the room for something to keep him back. He found a wooden stool in the corner, grabbed it and threw it at Mayers.
The stool hit him square on the head and he staggered back.
Hutch knew that this was his only chance. With two long steps, he reached Mayers and threw his whole weight on top of him. The pain that shot through his right arm when they both tumbled to the ground nearly knocked him out. Somehow he managed to stay conscious and tried to pin Mayers to the ground. Again he threw himself on Mayer’s body, but the man was faster and floored Hutch with two hard punches.
Mayers jumped on him, pinned him with one knee to the ground and began to strangle him with his hands. “I told you not to interrupt me, Blondie!” he whispered into Hutch’s ear.
Hutch gasped for air; his vision became blurred and foggy as Mayers pressed harder and harder.
‘Starsk…I need one of your surprises here!’
That was when he heard the sound of two shots.
Starsky’s surprise attack was short lived. Rickie, his combatant, was a few inches taller and much heavier than he was and even his attempt to compensate for it with speed failed. Because the man knew exactly how to hit him effectively, some hard punches to Starsky’s midsection and injured side caused him to buckle to his knees. The gun fell out of his hand and skidded across the ground.
The dark-haired man lay on the ground and lifted his arms protectively over his head to ward off more blows. In a last, desperate attempt, he rammed both feet into the man’s body. But the man only briefly went to ground and was back on his feet seconds later, and all of a sudden he had a gun in his hand. He aimed the gun but instead of one shot, two rang out; Starsky felt a bullet graze his left ear and heard a muffled cry. Rickie abruptly stopped in the middle of his movement. Total astonishment was written in his face. Slowly he turned sideways, grabbing his chest with his hands. Blood gushed out between his fingers, and without a single sound he fell on his knees and then on his side. Completely confused Starsky looked up and saw Jack standing directly in front of him, a gun in his hand.
He swayed dangerously.
“You’ll never hurt anybody again…” He mumbled. He looked at Starsky, his face white as a sheet.
Starsky jumped to his feet, his legs soft like jelly. He took the gun out of Jake’s hand, and then he grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him fiercely. “Jack, Jack, it’s over…hey, can you hear me, you’re okay?”
Jack nodded weakly. “Take care of Mara, okay? I have to look after Hutch…”
He stumbled around the bed and watched in horror as Mayers nearly strangled Hutch to death. At once he aimed his gun, but lowered it again immediately. No, one mindless movement and Hutch suddenly would be the target. Wildly he looked around and found the frying pan still sitting on the range. Without thinking he seized it, ran to the two fighting men and slammed the pan on Mayers’ head as hard as he could.
Later Starsky couldn’t remember how many times he hit the man, but it seemed to be half an eternity before Mayers loosened his grip around Hutch’s throat. He slumped and broke down over Hutch.
Starsky used the last of his strength to shove Mayers aside; panting heavily he slumped down beside Hutch and gathered the slack body in his lap. Anxiously he took Hutch’s head into his hands, staring at the man’s deathly pale face. In panic, he shook Hutch fiercely, hoping to get a reaction.
“Hutch, damn it! Wake up; don’t do this now…You have to wake up! Hutch!” He gasped out in shock. There was no response and Starsky let out a cry of despair.
‘Come on, Davy, think straight…the pulse, search for a pulse and then the breathing, what about his breathing…’
Long forgotten First Aid Knowledge kicked in and his trembling fingers actually found a soft but steady pulse. Hutch’s breathing was present if slow. Starsky sent a quiet prayer heavenward and calmed down a bit. Carefully he patted Hutch’s cheeks and shook him gently.
“Hey Hutch…it’s over. You let me do all the work, now it’s time to wake up. Come on… Hey, I remember you didn’t want me to get all the credit, so open your eyes! Now!”
A shiver ran over Hutch’s body and he started to cough violently. He tried to push Starsky’s hand away but he was too weak, and his hand fell back on his chest. His eyes fluttered open, his gaze wandering unfocused through the room.
“Hey Hutch! Hey look at me!” Starsky led out a deep sigh of relief and glided his hand gently over his face. “You scared me to death! Now relax and breathe, just breathe! Everything is fine!”
Again a coughing fit took Hutch’s breath and Starsky helped him to sit up. After a few minutes Hutch was able to catch his breath and looked into Starsky’s eyes. A small smile appeared on his face. “W-what took you s-so long?”
Starsky led out a laugh. “Hey, that’s my line! Nice of you decided to join me again! How do you feel?”
“Don’t know…you tell me…”
“Oh, you look terrific!”
“So we got t-the bad g-guys?”
“Yeah…we got them. How’s the arm doing?”
“You don’t wanna know…” Hutch moaned quietly; he felt for his hurting arm and closed his eyes for a brief moment. Starsky could see that Hutch was riding out the pain. “S-so you’re okay? I-I heard a shot…”
“Well, I’m glad that you trusted Jack…”
Hutch wrinkled his brows. “Huh?”
“Without him I would be dead meat…”
He gestured with his head to the man lying beside the bed. “He wanted to kill me…”
“Oh…well I’m also glad that I didn’t throw you out. Uninvited guests are sometimes the best thing that can happen to you!”
“Tell me something…Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Lay still!”
Hutch struggled to get up. “Please…need to check on Mara…”
“She’s doing fine…lay still and relax, you’re pretty banged up. I’ll…”
A piercing cry interrupted Starsky.
“Dave…Ken…there’s something wrong.” Jack shouted out worriedly.
“Oh no…please no.” Hutch whispered worriedly. “Help me up Starsk…It’s not over…”
Both men struggled to their feet and staggered to the bed. Hutch sat down beside Mara and one look at her eyes told him that Jack was right; something was wrong.
“I…” In pain, Mara doubled over and pressed both hands onto her belly. “It hurts…it hurts!” she cried out.
Hutch changed concerned looks with Starsky. He pulled the blankets aside, saw the small amount of blood on the sheets and placed a hand on her belly. He swallowed hard then pulled himself together and bent over Mara with a weak smile. “Okay, Mara I hoped we would make it to the hospital, but your baby doesn’t want to wait any longer. It’s coming and we’ll all help you. But you have to help us too. You have any idea if the baby’s coming head first?”
Mara nodded.
“That’s very good…So Jack, you sit behind her and hold her. Mara, bend your knees so I can help you. Starsky…I need your help here!”
“You don’t want me to get you hot water and towels…”
Hutch looked at him irritated. “What? No, not hot water, but I need a knife and a cord to cut the umbilical cord and yes, some towels would be good.”
“You…you don’t want her to have the baby here…” Starsky stuttered nervously and bent down next to him. “You’re no doctor, you can’t do that!”
“But we have no other choice…Remember, I’ve had some practice…”
“Some practice?! You’re kidding?!”
“Do I look like I’m kidding? We don’t have time to discuss it now!”
“But…but I can’t do that…I…”
“You can and you will, Starsk.” Hutch whispered, grabbing his hand. “I know you’re afraid, I’m afraid too. But listen to me and listen very carefully…you can do this… don’t allow the fear to control you. I need you, I need you to be at my side! So please… don’t leave me alone…this…this Me and Thee thing again, okay?” Hutch implored; his sky-blue eyes so full of pleading and determination that a shudder went down Starsky’s back.
‘Please, you have to trust me, as well as I have trusted you. I really need you here.’
Starsky swallowed back an argument and slowly nodded his head. As if he was in a trance, he got up, searched in the kitchen cupboard for a knife, towels and a cord and gave Hutch everything.
“Me and Thee…we’ll get through this, okay?” he said, hardly audible.
Hutch thanked him with a wordless nod and turned back to Mara to give her his full attention.
“It won’t be easy, but I know you’ll make it. It won’t last long, so if you think you have to push then you have to do it even if it hurts. Cry if you need, but don’t forget to breathe okay?”
For the next one and a half hours Starsky thought he was in the ‘Dr. Marcus Welby’ show, and he was sure he would never forget Mara’s terrible screams. It was as if he observed everything through a deep fog; his body was there but his mind was somewhere else. He needed all his willpower not to run away from the scene and was astonished by Hutch’s strength and coolness. Somehow he managed to calm down the excited Mara only by mumbling encouraging words to her, holding her hand and wiping away her tears and sweat.
‘How could your father think you’re a Loser?’
Then all of a sudden Hutch grabbed Starsky’s hands and laid them on Mara’s belly.
“You have to help her now, Starsk…she’s too weak to push, so push now Starsk…push!” He yelled out.
Mara screamed out one more time and then, exhausted, she fell back on the bed and breathed heavily.
“Starsk…need some help here.” Hutch whispered toneless. He didn’t need to say anything more, in a second Starsky was at his side. With wide eyes he stared at the small bloody body that Hutch was holding in his good arm.
“What shall I do?”
“Just hold it….” Hutch laid the baby into his arms, then opened the tiny mouth with his pinky and cleaned it with a corner of a towel, afterward cleaning the baby’s eyes and nose. Then he shook it gently. “Come on now…come on…”
First Starsky heard a small wail and then a strong cry.
He heard Hutch letting out a loud sigh of relief; looking up, and Starsky saw tears swimming in his eyes.
“It’s a boy, Starsk…he’s alive! Mara, Jack, you have a beautiful little boy!” He laughed and cried at the same time. With Starsky’s help he cut the cord, wrapped the baby in a towel and laid the squirming bundle into Mara’s arms. Hutch bent over Mara and ran his fingers over her cheeks wiping away some tears.
“You were wonderful Mara…and you too Jack! You can relax now; your son is fine, just keep him warm, okay?” He said with a quivering voice. “You have a name for the young man?”
Mara and Jack exchanged a look and then Jack said in a quavering voice, “Matthew…I think we’ll call him Matthew…”
Starsky saw Hutch wince, then he stared at Jack and slightly shook his head in obvious surprise. Then he glanced over to Starsky.
“That’s a wonderful name, Jack…” A broad smile flittered across his face. “You know…that was my grandpa’s name…” He croaked out, and tears began to stream freely down his face.
Starsky needed no more words to understand him. And for the first time since he’d met Hutch, he saw him happy.
He saw the little baby in Mara’s arms and all of a sudden he was overwhelmed by his feelings. He needed some time to be alone, wanted to escape and get his feeling under control.
Moaning slightly Starsky stood up and walked to the door. But the sudden movement made him dizzy, and the sharp pain in his side made him wince in pain. He leaned one hand against the nearest wall and, exhausted, laid his head in the crook of his arm. He began to shiver, and Hutch was surprised to hear him sob.
Not sure whether he was in pain or simply wanted some privacy but unable to see him so exhausted and do nothing, Hutch also jumped to his feet and walked over to Starsky.
“Hey Starsk…” He whispered in a comforting tone. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. “How are you doing, buddy? You look like you better sit down…”
“I…I’m okay Hutch…just a bit dizzy.” Starsky croaked out, still shivering.
Hutch saw the bloodstain on Starsky’s shirt had become a little bit bigger. “You’re bleeding again, sit down. I have to look at this.”
“It’s nothing…it’s just…”
“You better sit down before you fall down.” Gently Hutch pushed the trembling man to the ground and knelt next to him.
“But you said it’s only a flesh wound! It doesn’t even hurt any more…”
“Yeah, I can see that. But I don’t want you to bleed all over me, so let me do my work!” In a hurry he examined Starsky’s wound, then he pressed another cloth against the wound. “I need your belt to fix the cloth in place. The pressure will stop the bleeding immediately.”
Starsky unbuckled his belt and tied it around his hip. “Satisfied?”
“I’ll be satisfied if you don’t get an infection, but for now…yes.”
Hutch saw the deep furrows on Starsky’s forehead and the tears still streaming down his ghost white face.
‘Oh boy…don’t play the tough guy here.’
Hutch dropped down beside him and wrapped his good arm around Starsky’s shoulder. His friend closed his eyes and his head lolled to the side. “Relax Starsk…it’s over.” He soothed. “Just let it out…just let it out…”
It was like redemption for Starsky’s soul; he started to cry.
Hutch held him even closer and whispered comforting words into his ear. Calmed and comforted him like a frightened child.
After a while the crying ebbed away and Starsky wiped away some tears.
“Oh boy…That was…that was…I never…” Starsky suppressed a sob, and a small smile spread over his face. “I still can’t believe what we did!”
“Yeah… Thanks to you I did something right…” Hutch mumbled wearily and looked at Starsky. “You were great!”
“Yes…but you did it Hutch! You…”
“No, Starsk, we did it!” Hutch interrupted with force.
Starsky grinned. “Okay, we made it, and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything! Do you think I also have the talent to become a doctor?”
“Oh please!”
“Hey, you said….”
“Yeah, yeah, so what about that beer you offered me a few hours ago? I really could take one now!”
Starsky looked at him with indignation.
“You don’t want me to go out in that blizzard, do you? So what about some coffee?”
“Anything you want Starsk…And one for our newly-wed Christmas Family! I think they can use one too. Hey, wait…” He held onto Starsky’s sleeve.
“What?”
Hutch stared at him without saying a word; his eyes seemed to scan every inch of his face.
‘Oh Blondie…stop that, will you…’
“Huh?”
“So what? What do you want?? You said ‘wait’!”
“Uh…nothing…” He smiled sheepishly. “Ah…I want my coffee black, no sugar…”
A few minutes later Hutch sipped a cup of hot steaming coffee and enjoyed the pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body. Starsky watched him closely, didn’t like his still pale face. So he grabbed another blanket and wrapped it around him. He was worried when Hutch tiredly closed his eyes.
“Hutch? You okay, are you in pain?”
“Yes…I’m okay and well, my arm is killing me.”
“So?” Starsky worriedly raised a brow.
“Just thinking about…”
“About what?”
“What day is it?”
“Uh…Christmas day! Why?”
Hutch chuckled. “I always hated Christmas, never liked the arranged friendliness and solemn ceremony, peace on earth for all and everything…but this was the first Christmas in years that could change my mind.”
“Uh…we were beaten up, we were almost killed, you have a broken arm, I have a shot gun wound in my side, correct me please if I missed something important…”
“We saved the life of two, correction three people. We put three criminals out of action…”
“Oh excuse me, I didn’t mention that…”
“And I learned and found something I never had before…” Hutch’s voice was barely audible now and he was silent for while.
“What Hutch…what did you find?” Starsky asked softly.
“Trust…I learned to trust me and I found trust…I found you, Starsk…”
“Hutch…”Starsky felt a big knot rising in his throat. “I…uh…”
“It’s okay…take it as it is, okay? I can’t explain it, but that’s something I never experienced before. It’s as if I’ve known you my whole life. Sometimes I feel like I know what you’re thinking even when you don’t say anything and strangely enough it doesn’t frighten me.”
Starsky nodded his head in understanding.
“I know what you mean…when I was stuck to that rock wall and nearly fell…I knew that you would never let me fall down Hutch. And that’s why I went after you because I could feel that you needed help…not because of your arm… I saw it in your eyes when you ran away. Fear…” He looked directly into Hutch’s eyes. “Why do you hate Christmas Hutch?”
“My Grandpa died on Christmas Eve… when he died I lost the only one who understood me. Did I tell you he always called me ‘Hutch’ too?
“That’s why you didn’t want me to call you ‘Hutch’?”
Hutch shrugged his shoulders. “Think so…I was so shocked when I heard that name…and it hurts…Well, when Grandpa died my parents removed the decorated Christmas tree, the presents were locked away, and since that day Christmas wasn’t celebrated in my family. It was as if the day was erased from the calendar. I lost Christmas…”
“And now you found it?”
With a knowing smile he pointed with his head in the direction of the bed where Jack and Mara marveled at their newborn son, enjoying their luck in silence.
“I got the best Christmas gift in the world, and I’ll never forget it.”
“Then I don’t wanna know how you celebrate New Year’s Eve…”
Hutch burst out laughing.
“As long as I’m not alone…”
“I was worried about that! But first we have to take Mara and you to a hospital. I don’t like the idea of spending another night here in this cottage.”
“Well, I don’t think we can use one of our cars…”
“Any neighbors?”
“Some miles away, yes…”
“Terrific…Sounds like a long hike…”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then let’s wait until dawn, and to be honest, I’m a little tired and could use some sleep.”
Hutch grinned broadly. “Too many surprises for one day for you, city boy?”
“Too many Christmas surprises for me I guess, and by the way I’m Jewish! And little Jewish boys need their sleep and sick boys too! So no more surprises for today, promise?”
“Promise…”
Hutch snuggled up under his cover and suppressed a yawn. “Hope you don’t snore…And Starsk…”
“Mmh..”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas Hutch.”
Growing
The next morning a good friend of Ken Hutchinson’s grandfather, Bob Fuller and his son Daniel were checking their traps and passed Matthew Hutchinson’s hunting lodge. They were more than astonished when they discovered the footprints in the snow. They tried the door, found it unlocked and entered. Their breath faltered when they found two bloodied men lying beside the bed. But what shocked them even more were the woman and the man sleeping on the bed with a newborn child lying between them. Two obviously injured young men also sleeping or unconscious crouched on the ground and one of whom was well known to them.
Daniel immediately ran back to their horses, rode back to their house and called for an ambulances and police while his father took care of the two men and the couple with their baby.
Two hours later all victims were in the care of the hospital. Their body temperature was too low and they were exhausted, but nothing that a good hot meal, a warm bed and some rest couldn’t fix. Mother and child were fine, and the father was beyond proud of his little family. Starsky and Hutch were taken into surgery to stitch up their wounds and set their broken bones, but the doctors were certain that all their injuries would heal without complication. The next day a police officer came and took their statements and told them that Mayers and the red haired man were alive and in custody.
Two days later both were discharged from the hospital; Starsky still limping slightly, a big band aid over his right eyebrow, and Hutch with his right arm in a bulky white cast and resting in a sling. A patrol car drove them back to the station where the men’s cars were waiting. When they got out of the car and walked over to the parking lot, Hutch suddenly stopped. With great astonishment he stared at the car that was parked beside his old brown LTD.
“What on earth is that…please don’t tell me that’s your car…”
“Why? What’s wrong with the car?” Starsky asked surprised.
“It’s red…”
“Sure it’s red! It’s a red Torino. What’s your problem?”
“And it has a white stripe…”
“Yep! It’s cool, right?”
“I can’t drive the whole way back to L.A. in that car!”
“Why not?”
“Oh Starsk please…you can’t do that…”
“I can and so can you! Since you can’t drive with that cast on your arm we have to take my car, because I won’t drive that heap you call a vehicle! And since I gave the doctor my word that I’d take care of you the next few days, there’s nothing else you can do about it. Of course you could spend a few more days in the hospital if you like…”
“Shut up, will you? And it’s not a heap…it’s got character…” Hutch grumbled and with obvious dislike he opened the passenger side of the bright red Torino and got in.
“And mine’s a flash for every eye!” Starsky beamed and slid behind the steering wheel.
“Yeah…and I need sunglasses…” Hutch replied dryly. “And before you start thinking about even more ways to torture me…drive me back to L.A. and then you’re free to go, okay?”
“No…not okay! I told you, I gave the doctor my word, and I’m trained to hold my word, so you’re stuck with me, partner!”
“Partner?! Since when are we…”
“Since you were the only one who has the courage to tell me that you don’t like my car and because you’re the only one who will laugh at my bad jokes.” Starsky ascertained soberly.
“That’s all?”
“No…” He turned around and eyed him seriously. “Because I don’t have to hide my feelings in front of you. I can cry if I want, and I’m allowed to be afraid if I want and you don’t make fun of me. You stay cool when I need to freak out. You tell me what to do. You said ‘Don’t let fear control you’. And I didn’t. I know that I can trust you.”
“It was my Grandpa…” Hutch mumbled.
“Sorry?”
“That sentence…my Grandpa told it to me when I was a little boy and at first I didn’t understand it. But when I started medical school, every time I thought I couldn’t do it I heard him saying it…and well, it helped me sometimes not to run away!”
“So, then I’ll tell it to you again: ‘Don’t run away!’ When I’m done with my training I want to have you as my partner. So don’t you dare give up your training now. Jenkins won’t dare to suspend you. We’ll make our graduation, together, whether Jenkins likes it or not. Me and Thee?”
For some minutes Hutch only stared at Starsky and tried to get his feelings under control.
Because he knew that Starsky was right.
Me and Thee…
Even if he couldn’t understand it yet, this curly-haired man with the dark blue eyes beside him was a match. They fit like pieces in a puzzle. He never had a friend, a best friend he could tell all his worries and hopes and after only three days this man knew more of him and his life than anyone else in Duluth.
And besides, he felt good about it. Because he knew that he could trust him too.
Me and Thee…
“Hutch…you still there?”
“Yeah…where else would I be?”
“Then you agree?”
“How long do I have to wear this damn cast?”
“Uh…the doctor said something about four or five weeks, why?”
“Well, since I’m right-handed and can’t prepare myself a sandwich or a decent meal and because I don’t want to starve and you’re the reason why I broke my arm, it should be for you a self-evident fact that you have to look after me.”
“I’m the reason? I’m the reason that you’re right-handed? This is the reason why we left-handed are so blessed!”
“Can lefties cook?”
“Sorry?”
“I asked if you’re blessed enough to cook?”
“You like pizza?”
“Uh…what about some vegetables?”
“Oh veggie pizza is also available!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of…”
“Hey take it easy, buddy; I bet you’ve got a lot of cook books to test, haven’t you? So I’ll take that as a yes!”
A wide grin spread over Hutch’s face. “Well, because I’m very curious and you already knew everything about me, you have to tell me everything about yourself. There’s no way I can work together with a man I know nothing more about other than that he’s a left-hander and Jewish. So we have 2,000 miles to uncover the mystery. All right?”
“2,000 miles is one hell of a damn long way… so be prepared for a damn boring trip!”
“Since I know you I’m prepared for everything but boredom! And don’t forget, New Year’s Eve is in three days. I would prefer not to spend that day somewhere between Duluth and L.A. but comfortably at home with a good meal and a bottle of red wine. So, have you lost your car key or what? ”
“A New Year’s Eve without surprises? I think I have to find myself a new partner…”
“Starsky.”
“Huh?
“Drive!”
And Starsky gunned the engine and a few minutes later the red-striped Torino disappeared in a cloud of dust.
The End…
…or to be continued?
December 5th- Starsky & Hutch Episode Title Word Search
Thanks to Anachron for providing this clever word search. How many episode titles can you find before you have to sneak a peek at the list she so kindly provides at the bottom of the page? We have also provided a solution for the truly desperate. We know none of our Advent Calendar fans will need to rely on that cheat sheet to solve this puzzle. Right?
Click here to print the puzzle




































