Fighting for a lost Cause

Detective Ken Hutchinson leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh. It was strange to look across the desk and not see his partner sitting there, a coffee in one hand, studying some file or other. But they were supposed to be on vacation, and because Hutch had made plans to spend his time with Tess, a lovely, blonde, very well built stewardess, Starsky decided to go home to see his mom. It was too long since the two saw each other, and weekly phone calls just didn't cut it. But just after Starsky left, Tess called and told Hutch that she wouldn't make it, her vacation had been cancelled because some of her colleagues suddenly got sick and those still on their feet had to take over.

That, of course, left Hutch with more free time on his hands than he was used to. On the evening of the first day, Starsky called to tell him he had arrived and everything was fine. When he heard that Tess had cancelled, he offered to come back so Hutch wouldn't be alone, but while he was deeply touched by that offer, Hutch couldn't accept. After all, New York was not just a short drive down the road, and who knew when Starsky would get a chance to see his mom again.

So he just spent his days catching up on things he always wanted to get done. Like his laundry. Potting a few plants. Working out. The last weeks had been extremely busy with one case after the other, often several at the same time. A few especially gruesome murders. A few close calls, even more than usual. But after a few days Hutch ran out of things he wanted to do on his own. Somehow all the things he could think of were not even half as appealing without his partner and best friend. For a few short moments he almost wished he had accepted Starsky's offer to return early, but the next moment he felt guilty. Mrs. Starsky was so happy to have her oldest son with her, it wouldn't be fair to take that away from her sooner than absolutely necessary.

That's how he found himself sitting on the couch in his living room one night halfway through the week, a book in hand and a bottle of beer on the coffee table, thinking back to last night when he talked to Starsky on the phone. Or, more accurately, he began thinking about a something Starsky had said. "Oh man Hutch, you should be here and taste mom's cooking. You'd give up on all that creepy health stuff immediately!" Seemed he had the time of his life there. But Hutch was a thinker. And with Hutch, thinking invariably led to worrying.

The next morning, after a night spent wondering how to act upon his knowledge, he went to work.

The most important thing now was not to let Starsky know what he was doing. If his friend got even a hint that Hutch was worried about something, he would return immediately. Hutch couldn't let that happen, for a number of reasons. First, Starsky deserved this vacation. It was a rough couple of years for both of them, and Starsky hadn't seen his mom for too long. Second, Starsky's mom deserved to have her oldest son with her for a little while; God knew her youngest was no prize, although she loved him dearly. And finally, he had no intention to lay his own worries on Starsky before he absolutely had to. First he had to have a lot more facts.

So for the next few days he did research on several matters. Talked to dozens of people. Read up information in libraries. Talked to some more people. And his concern grew.

Finally it was Saturday night. Detective Ken Hutchinson leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh. It was strange to look across the desk and not see his partner sitting there, a coffee in one hand, studying some file or other. But Hutch knew Starsky would be there soon enough, and he would have to talk to him about this. And this was not a conversation he was looking forward to. It could be very difficult sometimes to talk some sense into the curly head of his partner.

Hutch ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked over to the coffee pot, seriously contemplating to get a cup. It was reasonably fresh, he had made a new batch just a little while ago. But it was just too much effort. After the last few days of collecting information and worrying he was just too tired. Without him noticing it, he leaned forward and rested his head upon his folded arms on the desk.

gggg

Starsky was starting to get worried. His partner wasn't home, and he wasn't at the 'Pits' either. In fact, Huggy said he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Hutch the last few days. Weird. So for want of other options, he turned towards the precinct, maybe something came up and Hutch went in to take care of it. And sure enough, the beat up old LTD was in its customary place.

As Starsky made his way up to the squad room, he got a strange feeling about all this. If something big was going on - big enough for Hutch to go in on his day off - why were there not more officers around? Seemed like there were no more people around than on any other Saturday, and those who were here didn't look like they were under any particular stress. Looked more like they were a little bored. So why was Hutch here if nothing was going on?

Finally he reached the squad room, and as he pushed the door open he saw Hutch sitting at his desk, the blond head resting on his forearms, and sound asleep. Starsky looked at his partner critically. The big blond looked exhausted. What had he done these last few days? When they talked on the phone, he didn't give him the impression that something was wrong. That he came back a day early was just because he had this feeling that there was something that Hutch didn't tell him.

Seemed like he was right. Something was definitely wrong if Hutch was here on a Saturday night, and looked like he hadn't slept all week. He approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. Then he laid a hand on Hutch's shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Hey, Hutch. Hutch, wake up. Come on now, that's a good boy." Hutch opened his eyes slowly, a little confused as to where he was and why he was here and most of all, why Starsky was here.

"What are you doing here, you wanted to come back tomorrow, didn't you?" He blinked sleepily. Then, alarmed, sat up. "Something wrong? You okay?"

Starsky shook his head affectionately. Leave it to Hutch to worry more about his partner than himself. "I'm fine. You look like you had a rough week, though. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Hutch couldn't help but see how good Starsky looked. Rested, relaxed, and his only care in the world was his big blond lug of a partner who sat at his office desk on a Saturday night, looking like he was in dire need of a vacation. Amazing what good a week of home cooking could do to a guy. Suddenly, he was no longer sure he should share his concerns with his friend. For a moment he considered forgetting all about it. Seeing his friend all well and healthy, Hutch felt more than a little sheepish. Still, this was important, Starsky's health - maybe even his life - depended on it, and he was determined to see this through. And it was too late already, anyway.

"What's this?" Starsky, curious about the kind of work Hutch had done here, picked up a sheet of paper that seemed to contend a hand written list of some kind. Before Hutch could take it from him, he started reading out loud. "Fatty acids. Triglycerides. Cholesterol. Hutch, what were you doing all week?"

"Well, after you told me about that big family dinner - remember? - I got to thinking. This is just not healthy. You really need to take better care of yourself. Do you have any idea what kind of health problems you can get later on?" Taking a deep breath, he looked up in the dark blue eyes of his best friend, prepared to see annoyance or exasperation. Instead, there was just this gentle smile that few people besides Hutch ever saw from Starsky, and the look in his eyes told Hutch just how touched Starsky was by his concern.

"Hutch, I'm fine. I've never been better. You really need to stop worrying. I won't keel over and drop dead. You know my medical reports as well as I know them. The results from my latest tests? Hey, if they were any better I'd be a newborn. Nothing left behind from Jenning's poison, nothing left behind from what happened in that restaurant. Look at me. I'm here. And I'll stay here. I'm not going to disappear, and I'm not going to die from anything related to my food." The gentle smile widened and became a teasing grin. "Except maybe if somebody forces me to eat seaweed and butterfly bones more than a few times a month."

Looking up at Starsky, Hutch realized the truth in his friend's words. Sure, he would feel a lot better if Starsky started eating healthier food. But apart from his eating habits, Starsky led a reasonably healthy life. If you discounted the bullets he ducked on a regular basis, and the various other attempts on his life. Or the brawls they got into. Or the long hours they worked. Of course it would be better for him if he started eating healthier stuff. But on the other hand, Starsky was right. He was in great shape, and he had no other vices to speak of. At least none that were hazardous do his health. He didn't smoke, he didn't drink too much. Why should he give him a hard time about this? Starsky was not about to change. And if Hutch were completely honest with himself, he didn't want him to.

"Hutch, I really appreciate this. I mean, you spent your vacation collecting information about all this health stuff, and you did it for me. Makes me feel good to know you care so much. But I really don't want you to run yourself ragged over this." He wanted to say more, but changed his mind. This was heading towards a major soapy scene if he wasn't careful. "Come on, let's go for dinner, my treat. Afterwards you come back to my place, mom sent cookies, you gotta try them, they are a dream."

He rattled on while he half dragged Hutch after him out of the squad room, down the corridor towards the exit, and Hutch decided to quit nagging him about his food, at least for today. At least after he tried those cookies. Of course he would always try to get his partner and best friend to eat better, that's what partners were for. And Starsky would get suspicious if he really stopped. So he would continue doing his best, hoping that Starsky would start eating better one day.

Even though he knew he was fighting for a lost cause.

the end