December 9th: A Michael’s Miracle Part 2 by April Valentine

Part 1 is here

Suddenly, Hutch awakened — the lights had come on in the store and he could hear voices. He wished he could stretch, but he was still trapped in the stiff body of the nutcracker. He wished he could have a cup of coffee — but that wasn’t likely either. The disappointment was nearly overwhelming.

Then he heard a voice. “Hutch, you awake yet?”

The relief that washed through him at hearing that beloved voice was incalculable. “Starsk? Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Good. Glad to hear your voice.” Starsky sounded relieved too.

“We’re still… under the spell or whatever it is,” Hutch said ruefully.

Starsky seemed to hesitate before responding. “Yeah, we are. But at least nothing’ got worse overnight.”

Only Starsky could take something terrible and still make Hutch feel better. “You’re right, babe. You always see the bright side.”

“I gotta,” Starsky said, and Hutch could hear the smile in his voice. “You’d always see the negative if I didn’t stop you.”

“Heh, guess you’re right.” Hutch tried to look around at the part of the store he could see. “Guess they’re going to open up soon.” He could hear voices in the background, likely the workers talking amongst themselves. He figured they would open the doors to shoppers soon.

“What’d’ya wanta do?” Starsky asked him.

“Not sure there’s much we can,” Hutch sighed. “It might look strange if they see us wobbling back and forth or –”

“Oh my goodness!” He broke off at the sound of the woman’s voice. Suddenly hands touched him, trying to pull on his immobile, heavy body. “Louise! Come check this out!”

It was the clerk from last night, he realized, calling her co-worker.

“What now?” The other woman sounded grouchy but approached in a moment. “I don’t get it.”

“I thought the nutcracker was over to the left a bit,” Sasha informed her. “Did you move him after I left to clock out?”

“You’re crazy,” Louise scoffed. “I lined him up so he’d be out of the aisle.”

“And Santa has moved too!” Sasha said, her voice sounding shocked.

“It’s your imagination. These things can’t move by themselves.”

“Then how do you explain this?” Sasha challenged.

“We just didn’t take note of where we left them last night.” Louise said, her voice both annoyed and certain. “Come on, let’s get the store ready to open. You take the outdoor displays out while I set up the registers.”

“Louise, you have no sense of whimsy,” Sasha retorted, but she left Hutch’s side, apparently to follow Louise’s directions.

“Great,” Hutch said, “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Starsky responded. “At least they didn’t pull us back to the spots they left us in.”

“For the time being,” Hutch answered. “What if they do, Starsk?”

“Not much we can do about it.” His partner sounded resolute. “I just hope they don’t. It took all our energy last night just to move the little bit we did.”

“And when they open the store, there will be people all over the place,” Hutch reminded him.

“Guess it wouldn’t do to have them run out screaming when they see big, heavy decorations moving on their own,” Starsky said.

“I don’t want to spend a whole day like this,” Hutch admitted.

“You think I do? Damn, Hutch. Just ’cause I try to see the ‘bright side’ as you call it doesn’t mean I’m eager to stay… enchanted or whatever this is.”

“I know.” Hutch was quiet for a moment. “Is that what this is? We’re ‘enchanted’ like under some kind of magic spell?”

“I don’t know. We’ve somehow crossed from the real world into the Twilight Zone. What else could it be?”

“We were at the Christmas party…”

“The one that I saw with unicorns and rainbows and you saw as all dark and macabre.”

“Like two sides of the coin,” Hutch added. “You always did see Christmas as a fun time of year –”

“And you saw the downside,” Starsky put in. “The negative. Sayin’ it was too commercial, that all the sentiment was fake.”

“Well, in a lot of cases, that’s true,” Hutch defended.

“So you got yourself turned into a big Christmas decoration! Just what you deserved!”

“Why did you become a huge Santa then? What did you do wrong?”

“Just came along for the ride with you,” Starsky chuckled.

“So what does that mean? I’ve gotta do something Christmas-y to break the spell?”

“Maybe.”

“And just how would I accomplish that? I can’t save a puppy, I can’t pat a kid on the head, I certainly can’t share the wishes of the season with anybody! What do you expect me to do? Throw the windows open and toss gifts and a Christmas goose down to the people walkin’ by Venice Place?”

“Maybe… maybe it’s the intention, Hutch? Maybe if the spell knows you’ll be in the holiday spirit this year, it will let us go.”

Hutch heaved a sigh — or as much as he could in his current form. “Worth a try, I guess.” He paused, thinking of what could show he was sufficiently moved by the spirit of the season. “Okay,” he began, clearing his throat and trying to make his voice sound like he was making a proclamation. “This year, I will set up a beautiful tree in my apartment; I’ll put gifts for Pete and Kiko and Starsky under the tree. And my gift for Starsky won’t be a tree planted for him, but something he actually wants. And I’ll bring gifts to the station for Captain Dobey and his family.” He ran out of steam. His eyes scanned the part of the store he could see, hopeful he might have broken the spell. Minutes went by.

“Uh, Starsk…”

“Yeah, doesn’t look like anything happened.”

He could tell his partner was trying not to sound too let down.

Hutch made another attempt. “Christmas is the season of peace and good will toward men.”

They both waited again, seeming to hold their breath in hope.

Again, nothing happened.

“Damn,” Hutch felt bleak.

“Well, maybe we should at least try moving again,” Starsky suggested. When Hutch didn’t respond, he continued. “It couldn’t hurt. Let’s try before this place gets full of customers. C’mon, Hutch.”

Hutch would have rolled his eyes if he could. He was quickly getting very depressed. “What’s the point, Starsk?” he asked, knowing he sounded morose.

“We gotta keep trying, babe.” Starsky’s voice sounded more tender than annoyed. “We’ve got to. I wanna get out of here as much as you do.”

Hutch’s eyes found the cheery Santa that his partner currently inhabited. He had never felt less like struggling to move his heavy nutcracker body, but he couldn’t say no to Starsky. He knew he was right, that if they just gave up, they might never break free of this… this curse.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “How’d we do it last night?”

“Just think it — tilt, wobble, shift — move!” Starsky sounded so confident. “Ready? One, two, three — go!”

And Hutch was doing it. He thought with all his might and his nutcracker body did what Starsky directed. He tilted, wobbled, shifted and he did move. They did it twice more and surprisingly ended up even closer together. It looked as though they were no more than a foot apart!

“We’re doin’ it!” Starsky crowed.

“Oh my gosh!”

The yell came from the direction of the cash registers.

“She must have seen us!” Starsky gritted out, now sounding worried.

“Louise!” The name was a screech, half scream, half entreaty. The sound of running feet accompanied the yell.

“What is wrong with you?” The grumpy response came from the back of the store.

“They moved,” Sasha yelled. Hutch couldn’t tell if she was excited or terrified. “They MOVED!”

Then she was in front of him, putting up her hands as if to stop his forward motion. “This can’t be happening!” she muttered, now seemingly talking to herself. Then, she drew another breath and startled Hutch with another yell. “Louise! I need you!”

“Starsk, I think she noticed,” Hutch said aloud, knowing there was no reason to attempt to keep his voice low.

“Guess so.” Starsky sounded more amused than worried.

“What is with you guys?” the woman asked as she turned to include Starsky/Santa in her gaze. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, didn’t you?”

“What’s going on?” Louise asked with a huff.

“They moved,” Sasha informed her, despite having shouted the same information earlier.

“You have lost your mind,” the grumpier of the two women declared.

“Look, they moved closer to each other,” Sasha insisted. “I saw them from way over at my register!”

“Why would they do that?” Louise demanded. She shook her head, as if realizing her question didn’t make sense. “I mean, how could they do that?”

Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know. Magic?”

“Yeah, right.”

Sasha reached with both hands, cupping the cheeks of both figures. “They like each other! They want to be together!”

“Put them back where they belong,” Louise said irritably, “they’re blocking the aisle.”

“It’s romantic,” Sasha retorted, making no move to shift the heavy figures. “And I can’t move them by myself anyway.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Louise insisted.

“They’re so cute. Look at how they look at each other!”

“They’re both men,” Louise protested.

Sasha gave her a knowing wink. “That’s the best part!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Louise pointed out. “You always want two dudes to be together. And Santa is married!”

“Two men together is romantic,” Sasha maintained. “And I don’t see Mrs. Claus around anywhere. She’s probably a beard anyway.” The woman giggled. “Don’t worry, boys, I won’t keep you apart.”

“At least she’s on our side,” Starsky muttered.

“That’s refreshing,” Hutch added.

Louise had taken hold of him, tilting him back as if in preparation for wobbling him back in the opposite direction — away from Starsky.

“No, lady!” he attempted to yell, even though he was pretty sure only Starsky could hear him.

“Stop it, Louise,” Sasha spoke up. “You’re always pushing me around. Cut it out!”

“Because you’re crazy! Thinking these heavy statues can move. That they like each other!”

“You have no sense of wonder! It’s Christmas time. Miracles can happen!” She reached out, shoving Louise’s hands away from Nutcracker/Hutch, then grabbing onto him herself. “Whoa! Did you feel that?” she gasped out.

“What?” Louise barked out, then as if noticing the same thing her co-worker had, she yelped. “What is it? Oh… my… God!”

The woman grabbed onto Starsky as Hutch felt the floor shaking. He looked toward his partner, feeling frantic. This was more than just a conflict over whether the two “figures” had moved or not —

“Hutch! Earthquake!” Starsky yelled out.

“I know! Partner, I –”

All hell broke loose. The women and the few customers who had entered the store were screaming, the earth was shaking, products falling from shelves, and then the big, heavy body of Santa Claus was tipping over, falling onto Hutch’s nutcracker body. Hutch couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t help — anybody, not himself, or Starsky or the citizens trapped in the shaking store.

The noise, the shattering of decorations, the screams of terror, the cracking of walls, floors and ceilings was so loud. Hutch unbalanced, his eyes only seeing the heavy velvet arm Starsky had been holding up coming towards him. He yelled, “Get out of here!” unable to prevent himself from trying to shout the order at the people in the store.

Dust swirled up, obscuring his vision. He felt the floor holding him give way, felt a heavy weight slam into him, sensed himself toppling over. And then all was quiet and it was over.

Someone was coughing. It was close by.

Hutch felt a little congested too, having breathed in the dust himself. He was bent at an awkward angle and tried to move his leg —

I’m moving my leg! He moved his arm too, reaching up to brush dust off his face.

He coughed, sneezing at the dust.

Someone grabbed his arm. “Hutch? You okay?”

Starsky’s voice. Starsky’s REAL voice!

Hutch blinked as his eyes focused. “Starsky!” He was jubilant. It was true, they were themselves again. “We’re free!” And all it had taken was a California earthquake.

“God, Hutch! Babe!”

Then they were kissing, not just the brief, chaste kiss they had started at the party. This kiss was deep and profound with relief and joy and, Hutch realized, the spirit of a holiday he’d so often scorned and now wanted to shout to the rooftops, to celebrate as he’d never celebrated before.

His arms came up around Starsky’s shoulders, holding him close, their lips parting as both broke out in laughter and happy joy at being released from the spell that they’d been held by.

They kissed again and began to struggle up to their feet.

“You sure you’re all right?” Hutch asked, patting Starsky up and down, checking for injuries and to make sure all trace of Santa was truly gone.

“M’fine!” Starsky pulled him in for another joyous kiss. “Merry Christmas, partner!”

“Merry Christmas to you — lover,” Hutch pronounced. He felt giddy, blessed, touched by the spirit of the season.

“Everybody okay?” came Sasha’s voice then. There were the unmistakable sounds of furniture being shoved aside.

“Did everybody get out?” Louise’s voice followed.

“I thought so,” Sasha returned. “But — who are you guys?”

“Uh…” Hutch was totally at a loss.

“We’re policemen,” Starsky supplied. “We ran in to check for anyone who might be injured.”

Louise nodded her acceptance, but looking over her shoulder, Hutch could tell that Sasha wasn’t buying it.

Then he followed her gaze beyond, over Starsky’s shoulder.

“Oh, look. They’re broken,” she said, her voice full of disappointment.

Both Starsky and Hutch looked and found that both the nutcracker and Santa were completely smashed.

Hutch met Starsky’s eyes. Neither knew what to say.

“Damn, those figures were expensive,” Louise murmured. “But at least now we know.”

“We know what?” Sasha asked her.

“Why they seemed to be moving.” The answer seemed totally logical, Hutch supposed. “Early tremors, you know.”

“Sure,” Sasha agreed, despite sounding as if she didn’t totally believe it.

“Let’s get outta here,” Starsky said, keeping his voice low.

“Right,” Hutch backed him up, turning to speak to the women. “Nobody seems to have been inside, so it doesn’t look like you need us.” He could hear sirens and figured ambulances and the fire department were arriving, leaving them to just remain regular citizens. If they were lucky, they’d be able to walk away.

“If you guys are sure you’re okay.” Sasha held up her hands as if to stop them. “It looked like those figures fell on top of you.”

“Nah, I fell on top of my partner here,” Starsky told her jovially.

Hutch nodded along. “We’re okay. C’mon, Starsk.” He took hold of Starsky’s jacket, pulling him close and smiling at Sasha, giving a nod to Louise as well. “You ladies have happy holidays!”

“You, too!” Sasha told them.

They picked their way out of the mess of the store and emerged into the morning sun. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be too much destruction from the quake. Hutch felt that relief on top of the buoyant feeling of being alive, real and released from whatever had enchanted them.

“Let’s go home,” he said, beaming at his partner. “You hungry?”

“Famished.”

“I’ll scramble us up some eggs,” Hutch said, “and then we’ll get some shut eye.” He winked clearly telling Starsky that by “shut eye” he meant “sex.”

Starsky grabbed him in a warm hug, chuckling and happy. “And no more weird parties — ever! Oh, did you see the look in that Sasha’s eyes? She… I think she knows, Hutch.”

“Maybe. But I don’t plan on sticking around long enough for her to start asking questions.”

“Good thinking,” Starsky told him. “She’ll just figure it was all a Christmas miracle.”

“Maybe.” Hutch agreed. “Maybe. If that’s what it really was. Or did we imagine the whole thing ourselves?”

“Merry Christmas, Hutch. We don’t wanta take any chances!”

Hutch pushed the tiny seed of doubt away with all his might. “You’re right, Starsk. Merry Christmas. I’ve gotta decorate my apartment!”