December 20th- White Christmas: A Starsky and Hutch Christmas Card Part 2 by Mvernet and Spencer5460

Click here to read Part 1

Chapter Three

Starsky stretched out on the hotel room’s luxurious, over-sized bed—a treat he planned to take full advantage of since they had a four-day break before resuming their typically frenetic schedule. He splayed his arms wide, felt the familiar tug of scar tissue and held in a grunt before drawing his palms under the back of his head.

Hutch came out of the bathroom towel-drying his hair and Starsky’s eyes drifted appreciatively over his bare chest and carved biceps. Hutch was as fit and trim as ever. The attributes that had mesmerized all manner of street people and turned informants to putty had done the same to audiences of all ages across the country.

The shirtless man before him enchanted a stadium of thousands with his effortless charm. Now that magnetism narrowed down like a beam of light to focus solely on Starsky. A wave of guilt washed over him as he realized how much he wanted to keep it that way. He willingly shared one part of Hutch with his adoring fans, but this other more intimate part he wanted to hold to himself.

It seemed Hutch had been born to do two things—be a cop and sing. More and more since Starsky had woken up from his coma to see Hutch across the sterile hospital room, Starsky felt he had died and come back to life to do just one. Love Hutch. Exclusive of all others. Whatever that meant. Where ever that lead.

Hutch had done everything Starsky had ever asked of him. Devotedly. Unselfishly. If Starsky wanted Hutch to stay on the road indefinitely, Starsky had no doubt he would. Even as he wolfed down cold sandwiches in a cramped dressing room, even as he looked wistfully through the tinted windows of the tour bus at the cozy houses passing by. Even as his eyes lingered on an effervescent blonde in row five.

Something pulled at Starsky’s gut causing a sharp pain and this time it wasn’t scar tissue. Hutch’s unique effect on him hadn’t diminished with the years, but ever since he’d seen Hutch watching K.C. from on stage, an idea had lodged itself in the space between his ears and he couldn’t shake it lose. If Starsky had a chance to give Hutch back the life he’d stolen away, he would do it. Hutch had served his time. It was time to open the door to the song bird’s cage.

Some days the choices love gave him were easier than others.

Starsky swallowed down the same little flutter he’d felt when watching his old friend on stage. “K.C.’s a great girl, isn’t she?”

“She is at that.”

“I was thinking we should invite her to dinner or something.” Starsky’s tongue felt thick in his mouth but he nevertheless finished the phrase he’d been practicing silently all evening. “Give us all a chance to catch up on old times.”

It was Hutch’s turn to take in Starsky stretched out on the bed. His casual grace had always reminded Hutch of an alley cat. The contrast of the luxurious bedding against the work-worn denim made him seem even less domesticated than usual. Money and fame hadn’t changed him. He still wore his jeans too tight and preferred a chili dog to filet mignon.

“Sure. Sounds good, Starsk. Why don’t you give her a call?”

Hutch sank down on the bed next to Starsky and felt the other man tense fractionally. The small movement stung him, like a band aid being ripped away from a wound. Hutch’s deductive senses snapped on as though by a switch.

He placed his hand on the back of Starsky’s neck to feel for tension and began a deep massage with fingers strengthened by hours spent playing his guitar. It only took a few seconds for a purr-like hum to reverberate in Starsky’s throat. But like a wily animal tempted yet wise to a trap, he seemed oddly guarded.

“Have you been feeling okay?” Hutch asked.

“You ask that same question just about every day,” Starsky shot back. He stretched his neck to the left allowing Hutch more access to knead deep tissues.

“Because you never give me a straight answer.”

Hutch knew he’d never fully comprehend what it took for Starsky to come this far, just like Starsky could never comprehend the fear Hutch felt when he thought his partner might not survive. He still lurched awake in the middle of the night to the echo of gunfire, the robotic beep of a heart monitor. Hutch knew he could never go through losing Starsky again and come out sane.

Starsky had never liked being mothered. Whenever he was suffering—mentally or physically—he tended to pull away. It was another thing he had in common with wild things. But Hutch had made it clear—just as he had when Starsky wanted to confront Prudhome alone—he wouldn’t allow it. Still, Hutch knew, even after all this time, he’d have to push his partner since Starsky wouldn’t let him breach his defenses easily.

Starsky and K.C. had fallen into a friendship quickly and effortlessly back when Starsky had worked that undercover gig as a cabbie. At the time, Hutch had fought an uncomfortable jealousy at the image of K.C. serenading Starsky under the streetlights in the cozy front seat of the cab. But after they’d caught a killer with K.C.’s help, they’d amicably drifted apart like so many others they’d met on cases, and the status quo was restored.

But the uncomfortable feeling had returned when he’d caught Starsky studying K.C. from back stage with a curious look on his face. His expression was hard to read in the shadows. Pain mixed with wistfulness, and a kind of secret longing.

Why would Starsky feel the need to hide something from him? They’d been through everything together. From their awkward rookie years when they’d been so eager to prove themselves, to finally just wanting to survive another day. They’d seen one another hold dying friends and lovers in their arms and then they’d held each other.

Hutch felt the tension in Starsky’s body. Felt the tiny gasp he held in as he turned on his side. Normally, Hutch’s massages worked magic but tonight was different. Starsky was holding back.

Starsky would never admit that he was tired or hurting because then Hutch would stop going on the road. And Starsky didn’t want him to stop. Starsky thought he knew how much Hutch loved singing. But how could Hutch make him understand he loved Starsky more?

It was K.C. That had to be it. Old feelings never acted upon had been reignited. Hutch couldn’t blame Starsky for being attracted to her. She was pretty, sure, but she was more than that. She was friendly and spunky and sure of herself. Not waiting for a man to sweep her off her feet. She seemed to do her own sweeping quite well.

She and Starsky would make a great couple. And Hutch would step willing out of the way.

Hutch withdrew his hands and got up from the bed. “Sure, Starsk. Dinner. That sounds great. Catch up on old times.”

When Hutch’s hand left Starsky’s shoulder he felt bereft. He’d turned on his side away from Hutch during his ministrations and stayed that way. He could play a thousand roles under cover with ease, but to be disingenuous with his partner took super-human effort.

Starsky remembered how he’d gone behind Hutch’s back to find out the truth about Gillian. How he’d emptied his bank account to encourage her to leave, knowing their relationship would destroy them both.

He was only half right. Gillian had ended up dead while Hutch had fallen into Starsky’s arms. They’d clung to each other as if reaching into each other’s skin. As if both their hearts had broken and only pieces of each other could bind the wounds. Another tragedy they’d survived together.

Yeah, he’d do it again. He’d do anything he had to make things right. Even if it meant letting him go.

Chapter Four

Back in 1928, Reno pronounced itself the biggest little city in the world. In the decades since, its gambling halls did their best to compete with its brasher cousin, Las Vegas, in break-neck efforts to build ever bigger and more glitzy structures to catch the tourists’ eyes. Eventually Las Vegas became the undisputed gambling mecca, catering to a transient crowd, as Reno clung to its roots and community-feel.

Although gambling continued to be a big draw, tourists now were just as attracted to the rugged scenery and nearby ski resorts. Investments were being made in the downtown area that focuses on local businesses and not just big name casinos.

Starsky and Hutch spent the next few days taking in the sights with K.C. As they made their way through the streets, Hutch felt like he was back undercover, hiding his well-known features under a large cowboy hat, sunglasses, and the flipped up collar of his jeans jacket. It made him feel comfortable yet strange at the same time. It was good to relax with someone who remembered them from when they were just Starsky and Hutch, not Ken Hutchinson, music star and his dedicated manager.

Starsky seemed to relax, too, sharing stories with K.C. to make her laugh. Then he’d laugh, too, at the way she’d slap her thigh and squawk “No! You’re kidding,” as his tales grew more and more outrageous.

One evening a cab dropped Starsky and Hutch off at Sisters, the little dinner club K.C. had invited them to. K.C. had told them about the owners, sisters who had been Vegas entertainers years ago and had rubbed elbows, along with various other parts, with the Rat Pack and their ilk in their heyday.

K.C. had explained that Mae and June were like aunties to K.C. They had taken her under their wings when she first came to Reno and she had seemed thrilled at the prospect of introducing her friends to each other.

As Starsky and Hutch entered, they instinctively cased the dimly lit joint. But then they caught each other’s furtive glances and laughed at themselves. Starsky reached over and fondly caressed the back of Hutch’s neck.

“You can put a cop out to pasture…” He spoke softly into Hutch’s ear.

“But you can’t keep him from eyein’ the bulls…”

The atmosphere felt welcoming yet slightly naughty, too. The substantial bar was made out of a severely laminated natural oak slab and lined with wicker stools. Plants hung everywhere and a tree seemed to be growing right in the middle of the small dance floor and in front of a slightly larger stage. More natural wood tables lit by mason jar candles gave an ethereal glow to the plant and human life clustered around the main room.

There was distinct lack of slot machines and the thinly disguised security guards that graced most of Reno’s clubs. Starsky could tell Hutch loved the place and smiled as his partner became distracted by a bounteous Boston fern hanging from an oak beam. The relaxed atmosphere made Starsky breathe easier and gave him a small boost of confidence for the business that lay ahead of him.

Starsky chuckled at Hutch’s focus on the fern, then spotted K.C. chatting animatedly with the bartender, an attractive, red-headed woman in a cowboy hat and a green t-shirt sporting the words, Love The Earth. Starsky walked up to K.C. and tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to turn away from the red head. He gave her a warm embrace and brotherly peck on the cheek then turned back to Hutch.

The barkeep and K.C. both grinned as Starsky made a show of dragging Hutch’s attention away from his new leafy friend.

“She’s beautiful, Starsk,” Hutch murmured as he gazed at the plant but then turned to see K.C. lifting an eyebrow at him.

“You talkin’ about little ol’ me, sugar?” K.C. layered her accent on thick, obviously enjoying Hutch’s shy look and barely there blush.

“If the leaf fits,” he joked lamely.

Starsky gave him a light punch in the arm. “Don’t embarrass me, blondie. Can’t take you anywhere.”

“You know you’re beautiful, lady.” Hutch laughed as he hugged K.C. tightly and dragged her off her stool. He held her off the floor, evoking a small squeal of delight from the petite woman and a deep exhalation from the bartender. Starsky swallowed as he watched Hutch press his lips to K.C’s flushed skin.

“This is Whimsy,” K.C. indicated the redhead behind the bar as Hutch kept his arm wrapped around K.C. “Whimsy, this is Ken Hutchinson and David Starsky. They’re old friends of mine.”

Excitement lit up the barkeep’s lightly freckled face, but K.C. quickly interceded. “They’d like to keep attention to a minimum, if you don’t mind.”

Just then two women appeared from somewhere in the back, interrupting their animated greetings. They looked to be in their fifties, with formally styled golden hair and similarly sparkling eyes, one set blue, one set brown. Their shapely hips swayed beneath breathtaking and obviously expensive, baby blue sequined Dior gowns as they made their way to the bar and their alluring presence seemed to draw all the candlelight and eyes in the room.

“Unhand that maiden, sir!” The taller of the two women directed Hutch.

“Those boots were made for walkin’, Sir Knight,” quipped the smaller blue goddess. “She can do that fine on her own.”

Hutch put K.C. down and she playfully slapped his hands away. “Behave, you two, and let me introduce the owners of this fine establishment, Mae and June.” K.C indicated which woman was which with a flourish of her hand. “Mae, June, meet my dear friends, Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchinson.”

The two ladies offered blue satin-gloved hands to the partners in turn. Starsky and Hutch took the offered hands and lifted them to their lips, pressing a hint of a kiss on each.

“Well, well. Handsome and genteel. What a deadly combo,” commented the taller woman K.C. had identified as Mae approvingly.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, boys,” added June in a voice that held a musical lilt.

“Whimsy,” Mae addressed the bartender. “Please see K.C. and her gorgeous guests to the V.I.P. table. Drinks are on the house. Now, please excuse us,” she turned back to Starsky and Hutch. “We have to get ready for our number”.

Whimsy nearly jumped the bar trying to get to Hutch. “No problem, Mae.” She beamed at Hutch and took his arm, nearly dragging him to the tables near the stage. Starsky sighed as he heard her begin to tell Hutch what a big fan she was.

K.C. spoke in Starsky’s ear, startling him. “Don’t worry, Hutch couldn’t be safer than he is in here. Whimsy is interested in someone else, but she’s crazy about musicians.”

Starsky, puzzled by her words, took a good look around the club as she directed Starsky to their table. The background noise had a decidedly feminine lilt. The back booths were filled with pairs of women, some talking quietly to their partners, some holding hands and one couple kissing. A few men were scattered around the tables, but seemed to interact with their companions more platonically than intimately.

Memories of the Green Parrot flew into Starsky’s head. “Ohhhh!” Starsky leaned into whisper to K.C. “Mae and June, they’re not really sisters, are they?”

“Very good, Detective. Guess that badge isn’t so rusty after all. Sisters is a gay club on the feminine side. Mae and June have been life partners for years, but because of the times they lived in, told everyone they were sisters. They don’t hide any more, but they’re still afraid to open up to strangers. Painful memories keep them partially in the closet even now. They always tell me how they admire the new generation’s openness and pride.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” she asked carefully.

Starsky looked at K.C. and realized her open mindedness was another reason she was so easy to be with. His work as a detective had challenged many of his beliefs about right and wrong. He’d realized the lines between them weren’t always so clear cut.

He’d seen enough of life’s ugliness to learn to appreciate beauty in the most unlikely places. And he’d concluded that love was definitely a beautiful thing. Love between a husband and wife, between a parent and child, between brothers, between partners….

Starsky felt K.C. squeeze his hand and he blinked as they joined Hutch at the table. Hutch, finishing up with an autograph for Whimsy on a Sisters cocktail napkin, noticed and caught Starsky’s eye.

Starsky saw a hint of pain cross Hutch’s face just before he turned away to give Whimsy a brief hug and an even briefer kiss. Was Hutch jealous? If he was, Starsky had to make sure Hutch knew he had no interest in K.C. He chuckled a bit to himself, knowing that it was absolutely true.

The trio settled down with K.C. in the middle and beers all around. The stage lights came up and the fabulous Mae and June electrified the audience with their campy song and dance routine. The enthusiastic crowd hooted and whistled and the ladies in blue clearly loved every moment.

 

Starsky and Hutch stole a glance at each other over K.C.’s head and smiled at the whimsical song.

“Sisters, Sisters
There were never such devoted sisters
Never had to have a chaperone, no sir.
I’m here to keep my eye on her.
Caring, sharing,
Every little thing that we are wearing…”*

Along with everyone else, Starsky and Hutch gave Mae and June a standing ovation at the end of the performance. Whimsy ran on stage to present white roses for each lady. Mae thanked their audience graciously and adjusted the microphone as a stagehand brought out a barstool and a classic Martin acoustic guitar on a stand. She fiddled with the knobs and cords on the peavey amp making sure everything was ready for the impromptu act.

“I’m going to be a wicked little club owner now and put a lovely gentleman on the spot.” Mae tapped lightly on the mic and flashed a smile at Hutch.

“We have with us tonight a great talent, and maybe if we treat him real nice, he’ll sing us a little somethin’, somethin’. Let’s hear some Sisters brand encouragement for… Ken Hutchinson!”

Hutch rolled his eyes modestly as June came down from the stage and gently took his arm. The audience exploded in catcalls and hearty applause. Starsky clapped as well, hiding a grin behind the froth of his beer mug. He was reminded of the old days when from time to time an undercover gig would call for Hutch to sing in public. Hutch would stumble to the stage and stutter a line or two, looking to Starsky for encouragement. When he caught Starsky’s eye he’d forget his nerves and magic happened.

Hutch clasped June’s arm in a gentlemanly fashion and looked once more to Starsky who simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged, then he climbed onto the stage.

He fiddled with the mic to get it in just the right spot and when June sincerely thanked him for putting himself out, he smiled and leaned into it. “Let’s just say I’m doing it for a pal from the old days.”

Hutch winked at K.C., drawing several sighs from the audience, then settled on the stool and picked up the guitar. He rubbed a hand along its curves, admiring the craftsmanship of the smooth body as he decided what to sing.

The stagehand returned with a handful of picks and Hutch chose one as carefully as choosing a diamond for a ring. He took a few seconds to tune the guitar and nodded at his silent helper who smiled and hurried off the stage.

He cleared his throat and spoke haltingly into the mic. “Thank you all for that wonderful… um… encouragement. I hope I can meet your expectations.”

Above the enthusiastic clapping that followed, Hutch heard Starsky’s distinct whistle. He could always make out that sound and remembered how much he used to count on it, on him, to warm the cold waves of stage fright that once threatened to drown him. Now he felt overwhelmed by even stronger feelings left unspoken, yet set to music.

“I think I’ll do a song that I actually just wrote about a week ago. If you like it, consider it a Sisters exclusive premier from my next album. If you hate it, well, I’ll put it away in the ‘what were you thinking,’ file.”

Polite laughter rippled through the group. When he began to strum a soft G chord, the room fell silent, as if bewitched.

“Love, you didn’t do right by me
You planned a romance that just hadn’t a chance
And I’m through

Love, you didn’t do right by me
I’m back on the shelf and I’m blaming myself
But it’s you

My one love affair didn’t get anywhere from the start
To send me a Joan who had winter and snow in her heart
Wasn’t smart

Love, you didn’t do right by me
As they say in the song
“You done me wrong!”*

When the rich voice stopped and the strings from Hutch’s guitar came to rest, nothing could be heard in the room except for the quiet clearing of thickened throats and handkerchief-covered sniffles.

The song had been painfully sweet, heartfelt. To Starsky, it had been all Hutch. It spoke plainly of the pain love had caused his partner in the past and his longing for a life with someone who could give him something more permanent. Starsky knew Hutch didn’t just carry his burdens on his sleeve; he had a whole heavy overcoat filled with them that he wore every day because of him.

Gradually, applause began to erupt like heated popcorn until it filled the room. Starsky watched a small blush form on Hutch’s face. Hutch always seemed so innocently surprised by the intensity of emotion his music inspired. But Starsky was well aware of his partner’s ability to reach into people’s hearts.

Starsky placed his arm around K.C. as she brushed away some tears and gave her a few gentle pats. More than ever, Starsky felt it was time to do right by his partner and steadfast friend.

He’d do everything in his power to give him what he needed. No matter what the personal cost.

Chapter Five

Hutch set the guitar back gently in its stand. The stagehand, her eyes glistening, came to turn off the mic and collect the guitar. She signaled to the club band to start the evening’s mix of dance music, then received a hug from Hutch for her troubles. Hutch looked over the young lady’s shoulder to the table where he saw Starsky’s arm around K.C. They seemed to be talking intimately. With his arms full of star-struck stagehand and an entire audience singing his praises, he never felt more alone.

He plastered on a too-bright smile and joined Starsky and K.C. at the table. A waitress quickly appeared at his side, eager to take his order.

“Vodka and tonic with a lime twist for me, thank you, miss. You guys want another?”

K.C. nodded. “Sure, but I’ll have some nachos to go with it.”

Starsky smiled at that and answered, “Naa, I’m good.”

Hutch knew that Starsky seldom drank anymore. Just a beer or two if they were out. He sighed once more at the toll life had taken on his partner. Hutch also noticed the raised dark eyebrow at his own order. Vodka and tonic had been his drink of choice in his Vanessa years and had nearly cost him his badge. But Starsky had always been there to scold him and hold him. Now that it was time to let go, he bemoaned the return of his need for liquid courage.

Hutch leaned back and watched Starsky and K.C. dig into chips dripping with cheese, sour cream, and jalapenos, discussing the fine art of nacho making and coming up with silly puns all the while. They looked perfect together. Exactly what Starsky needed, Hutch assured himself. K.C. was a loving person. She could love Starsky almost as much as Hutch could. Almost.

Reno’s climate would also be good for Starsky. He got cold so easily these days. And the fear of pneumonia or worse haunted Hutch every time Starsky shivered or sneezed.

Hutch ordered another drink. “Keep ’em coming,” he whispered to the obliging waitress.

Hutch speared a fork into his complimentary dinner—a Sisters famous apple walnut salad and ribeye steak—but didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. The waitress waited on their every need as Starsky and K.C. seemed to form an eternal bond over junk food.

“Isn’t that right, Hutch?”

Hutch looked up from the salad he had been stirring to see concern bright in Starsky’s eyes. Embarrassed, Hutch realized he hadn’t even heard the question. He wished they would stop trying to include him in the conversation. He felt like a third wheel.

Hutch suddenly found himself being dragged to his feet by his overly perceptive partner.

“Time to dance, ya big blond beauty. I think you need a little exercise.”

K.C. giggled and took both men’s hands. “Let’s all go.”

The lights above the dance floor changed color with the mood of music, making the dancing couples look dreamlike. Starsky pushed K.C. into Hutch’s arms and he gently pushed her back into Starsky’s as he found himself caught up in the Sinatra-inspired songs the band was playing.

K.C. grabbed both of them and pushed them together. “Loosen up! Have some fun. Anything goes here. I’m going to the bar to talk to Whimsy.”

K.C. spun off the dance floor leaving them alone. Hutch looked around, his head swimming in an alcoholic haze and then found himself safe in Starsky’s arms.

“Hutch. Why ya hittin’ the hard stuff, babe? You all right?”

Hutch closed his eyes, trying to think up a clever Starsky-proof answer. That only made him dizzier and his head inclined on Starsky’s shoulder for just a moment.

He felt more than heard Starsky sigh, “Oh, babe,” and was held tighter, undoubtedly to keep him on his feet. “I got ya, ya big dumb blond blintz.”

Was he embarrassing him? The music flowed around them, sultry and passionate, blocking out everything and everyone else. All that was left was the music and Starsky. Always Starsky. But he had to let go.

The thought made Hutch hold on even tighter as Starsky started to sway gently with the music. They weren’t dancing as much as holding on for dear life. Hutch thought he felt Starsky smooth his hair back and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, and was immediately grateful for the seclusion of the place, the lack of photographers.

“I may have done you wrong, babe, but I swear I’ll make it right,” Starsky whispered.

As they swayed, Hutch wondered if he’d heard the words right and pondered what he meant.

They were interrupted by the gracious Mae and June, now wearing twin fedoras and tuxedos, minus the pants. They still had great dancer’s legs and showed them off in black tights and high heels.

Mae touched Starsky gently on the shoulder and he stepped aside while June asked Hutch politely, “Would you care to join us for coffee and dessert?”

“Black coffee and lots of it, if you get my drift,” Mae added.

Hutch found himself escorted back to the V.I.P. table, then seated with a coffee cup in front of him and the lovely June patting his arm. He looked around sheepishly at his circle of friends, then smiled and reached for his cup. He took a sip and the strong liquid warmed him. He would be just fine.

Chapter Six

Starsky maneuvered his latest birthday present from Hutch expertly down the dark one lane country road. The flashy red corvette—customized with a bright white stripe—cut effortlessly through the swirling mists that rose from the ditches on either side of the old road.

Starsky heard Hutch sigh yet again. He put his eyes back on the road and waited for it.

“Starsk, are you sure you know where you are? Why’d we have to take this hellish alternate route again?” Hutch asked petulantly.

“Because, the main road to Pine Lake is under construction,” Starsky explained for the third time, biting his lip to keep from saying anything that would ignite a full scale argument. They were both tired. “I hate playing dodge the glowing traffic barrels and being threatened every six feet with fines if I hit a worker. Makes me want to kill a road sign painter.”

Hutch snorted. “Starsk, are you sure this is even the right road? Look at those weeds growing in the cracks in the pavement. Hell, there’s more cracks than pavement. I don’t think anyone even uses this road anymore. What’s that shape up ahead? Slow down.”

“It’s a freakin’ dead tree, Hutch. Get a grip. I have this.”

“Looks like a road where you break down for no reason and the undead take over your body,” mumbled Hutch, but loud enough for Starsky to hear. “Watch out! On the right. I see something glowing up ahead.”

Starsky longed for the time when Hutch had been the one as comfortable in the woods as a logger. But Starsky recognized he was now dealing with new, over-cautious Hutch who had emerged after the shooting.

Starsky slowed a bit, not wanting to mess up his ‘vette or contribute to the production of road kill. He peered into the darkness as they passed two glowing eyes off to the side of the road.

“Hutch. It’s a little tiny raccoon. They’re pretty smart. It knows better than to commit suicide in front of my car.”

“You don’t know that! What if it ran out in front of you and you swerved, hit a tree, and got knocked out on this God-forsaken road!”

“Maybe then I’d get a few minutes of peace and quiet all to myself,” Starsky grumbled under his breath.

“Want to repeat that, buddy?”

Starsky ignored him as a stop sign loomed in front of them. “Here we go. Pine Lake Road. See? No problem.”

Hutch settled back in his seat as Starsky made the turn, but only a few minutes later sat back up again, his head swiveling from side to side. “Starsk. Starsk. Starsky?”

Starsky took in a deep breath and reminded himself he loved this guy and really didn’t want to murder him and leave him in a ditch on this road where no one would ever find the body.

“Yes, Hutch?” he asked pleasantly.

“Where’s the snow?”

There hadn’t been any snow at all that year. Yesterday, the high temperature was a balmy 75 degrees, very unusual for the area. Locals said they were in for a green Christmas. Local business owners, dependent on the skiing trade, watched their ledgers change from black to red.

Starsky glanced at his moody partner staring into the gloom. He was becoming more worried about Hutch every day. While Starsky had grown used to his overt mother-henning, ever since the night at Sisters, Hutch had seemed distant and depressed. And drinking way too much for Starsky’s liking.

It was oddly fortuitous that they’d received a call from K.C. a few weeks after their visit in Reno telling them that she’d been asked to put on a holiday show at a venue they both knew well and suggesting they join her. Now, Starsky both hoped and feared that seeing K.C. would perk his partner up.

A half-hour later they arrived at Captain Dobey’s lakeside cabin that the Dobey family loved so dearly. When Dobey retired shortly after Starsky and Hutch’s farewell party, Edith had come up with the savvy idea of buying an old ski lodge a stone’s throw from the Pine Lake cabin.

The lodge had fallen into disrepair after stories of Satanic rituals in the area had kept buyers away. Happily, the Dobeys had been able to purchase the lodge along with six acres of prime real estate for a bargain price. Modernizing the place and opening it up to the public since then had kept Dobey occupied and active.

Away from the crippling stress of his job, the captain—now just Harold Dobey—shed pounds just as he shed the responsibilities of being the captain to his many boys. As the area grew in popularity, their investment grew in value. The lovely Tyrolean-style lodge, complete with dinner, dancing, and entertainment, had become a favorite getaway for Bay City’s elite, as well as the escape of choice for over-worked city dwellers.

When Edith became ill last year, she had made Harold promise to keep the lodge open. She feared her husband might waste away not just without her, but also without the hustle and bustle of running the lodge. Just before she died, she had prayed not for herself, but for her man. She had prayed he would go on to find happiness without her and would always have a white Christmas.

Starsky fumbled in the dark to stick the key in the lock of the cabin’s vibrantly painted entrance. Dobey never could get the red off the door from the Satanist’s party all those years ago. Edith had huffed at the sight and covered it over with a rich cranberry red. She was determined her home away from home would be blessed with friendship and love no matter the color of the door and she’d been right. Starsky and Hutch had spent many pleasant hours in this cabin and eventually both had been given their own keys and free reign of the premises.

They had reciprocated their old captain’s generosity with anonymous charitable donations to the Dobey’s congregation and Bay City’s homeless shelter.

When they had decided to take up K.C.’s invitation, Hutch suggested staying at the old cabin the first night and surprising their friends at the lodge in the morning. Starsky had agreed wholeheartedly. A night in the old cabin with his Hutch all to himself was just what he wanted most of all. After all, if everything went as he planned over the next few days, Hutch would soon belong to someone else. This might be the last days of me and thee.

Now was the perfect time to get Hutch and K.C. together. He couldn’t think of a more romantic time than Christmas—full of music and magic—or a more romantic place than the Dobey’s, an environment filled with family and love. No one had to know he was the one who had put a bug in Rosie Dobey’s ear suggesting that K.C.’s act would be perfect for the Christmas crowd at the ski lodge.

Rosie had sounded overjoyed to hear that two of her favorite “uncles” would be paying a visit over the holidays. Starsky, Hutch, and Huggy had watched the Dobey children grow up and, along with the captain and Edith, had encouraged them to find their own paths in the world. Rosie was now head of a successful personal electronics start up. She was one of the youngest female entrepreneurs in the field.

As for Cal, he had developed a love of flying ever since the Black Baron, at Huggy, Starsky, and Hutch’s secret request, gave him a ride in his rickety plane on Cal’s fourteenth birthday. Dobey didn’t find out about the wild ride till years after when Cal became an Air Force Captain and confessed the adventure to his beaming dad. Dobey couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad, since it was already filled with love and pride for the second captain in the Dobey family.

After assuring Uncle Dave that his wish was her command, Rosie had her secretary clear her schedule. She had already decided to spend some time with her dad anyway. She had planned to join him for Thanksgiving since holidays without her mom were so hard on all of them. Now, she would just stay on till New Year’s. Having Uncle Ken and Uncle Dave there would be just like old times.

As Starsky approached the front door in the dark, Hutch let out a long, pitiful sigh and grabbed the flashlight. He tapped Starsky on the left shoulder, then leaned to the right and flipped on the light. Hutch chuckled as Starsky swiveled his head and jumped at the sudden movement.

“Very funny. Very funny. You’re a real comedian, blintz.”

“Don’t tell me this dear old place still scares you.”

“Naaa! You scare me, Blintz. You are so weird. I never know when you’re gonna jump out at me from the shadows just for kicks.”

“I keep you on your toes! That’s why you love me.”

The last three words hung in the air between them as Hutch looked down quickly and Starsky concentrated on opening the door. Finally a “snick” filled the silence.

“We’re in,” Starsky said softly.

“I’ll get our bags, babe,” Hutch responded in the same soft tone.

Hutch had awoken with a head of soft brown hair tickling his nose. He pulled Starsky closer knowing he was fast asleep and ran his fingers through the precious curls. When Starsky let out a soft hummm, Hutch shushed him with two fingers to his lips.

Last night had been perfect. It was as if the years had melted away and Gunther’s hit had never happened. Hutch had teased Starsky with sprout sandwiches, but then surprised him with steak and potatoes cooked in the fireplace over a searing flame. They shared half a bottle of red and needed no more than that. Hutch brought out a blueberry cobbler for dessert and even whipped some cream to top it.

They played “remember the time…” until the logs in the fireplace turned from solid wood to glowing charcoal and they were overly warm and sleepy. Then they made their way to the queen size bed they shared since Starsky’s brush with death. It was the only time they slept side by side other than when they were hurting and they treasured it.

Inevitably one or the other would turn into open arms and grab hold, not letting go till dawn. Then one or the other would rise and start the coffee, the precious intimacy of the night fading in the light of day.

They never spoke of it in the daylight. Hutch refused to think about what their closeness meant. He only knew it was me and thee in its purest form and he treasured it. Had treasured it for years, like he treasured the red underwear, the quiet talks by the fire, and their cabin in the woods. No matter what was happening in the outside world, they’d always been able to find sanctuary.

But Hutch had come to realize in his bones that it wasn’t right to keep Starsky to himself. To keep him moving from place to place, with an endless schedule and unpredictable hours. After all, how long would his frail health take the rigorous schedule? Yet he knew Starsky fell asleep earlier now and slept in longer. He didn’t bounce out of bed ready to take on the world the way he once did. Hutch laid a hand on his side and cringed when he felt his partner’s ribs even through the soft red fabric. Starsky’s mumbled “uuutch” at Hutch’s touch made him wince. He pictured in his mind’s eye the brutal scars that criss-crossed his chest.

Starsky would never slow down of his own accord. He couldn’t shake the thought that a perfect storm had swept them here, together again with K.C. McBride, the one woman who might make Starsky happy.

This was it then. Starsky was the most important thing in his life; he had to take care of him. To do what was best for him even if Starsky didn’t see it. Hopefully, one day he would. With a strength of resolve he didn’t know he had, Hutch gently pushed Starsky away and rose to make the coffee.

Starsky stretched out on the queen size bed that took up almost all the space in the cabin’s one tiny bedroom. He had long since given up sleeping on the couch, but still wore the old red flannel long johns he always kept at the cabin. He could care less if mice had chewed holes in them over the years and they were drafty in some places.

Dobey was a big man and a twin or even a full bed for him and Edith would not do. Starsky felt the bittersweet twinge in his heart he always felt when he thought of sweet Edith Dobey and tried to push it aside. The Dobeys had not used the cabin much in years, preferring the more luxurious rooms at the lodge. Starsky had the sneaking suspicion that the cabin was kept for him and Hutch, exclusively.

Hutch kept his black—now faded to a charcoal gray—thermals in the same drawer. It had become an unspoken tradition to keep them here and reminisce in front of the fire.

Starsky rolled over and rubbed his face lazily on Hutch’s pillow. Despite their easy companionship, last night held an aura of desperation when Hutch silently fell into Starsky’s embrace. Starsky got the strangest feeling that Hutch was somehow saying goodbye.

Not that it mattered. He’d come to the decision that their partnership would be ending soon enough. That thought pushed Starsky to his feet, eager to be with Hutch for whatever time they had left.

An angelic voice singing snippets of an original tune and dishes clattering told Starsky where Hutch had gone. He followed the pleasant sounds and aromas coming from the kitchen alcove.

“Good morning,” he said. He didn’t want the day to end.

To be continued...

* Lyrics by Irving Berlin