This story is based off an episode from another TV series I liked to watch a long time ago which I modified to fit S&H. As always, I don't own the characters, wish I did, I'm only writing for entertainment purposes. Reviews always appreciated, and sorry for any typos still found. Hope you enjoy!
Tranquility
Chapter 1
"As soon as we get the extradition papers processed, the sooner we can get Martinez back in the States," Captain Dobey said as he sat behind his desk.
"We'll do it Cap," Hutch volunteered, making his partner slumped in the chair next to him sit up a little straighter and throw him a look.
"The judge wants the papers by Sunday."
"Sure. Sure. No problem," Hutch said.
"Sunday?" Starsky repeated. "But Hutch, it's our weekend off…"
"It'll be fine, Cap. Trust us. We'll be happy to do it for you."
Dobey looked at the blond haired detective suspiciously. "What's this all about?"
"Yeah, what's this all about?" Starsky asked.
"Nothing. We just want to see Martinez brought back to stand trial just as much as the D.A."
"Hmmmm," Dobey said dubiously but couldn't see any legitimate point to argue against the help. Besides, it was their case. "All right, Hutchinson. You can pick up the paperwork from the D.A. in the morning and deliver it to Judge Juarez in San Carlos by Sunday. Just make sure you keep the radar low on this. We don't need Martinez jumping bail again and disappearing."
"Great!"
"Hutch…uh…"
But the tall blond detective didn't give Starsky a chance to argue as he pulled him out of the chair and hustled him out of Dobey's office.
Once back in the squad room Starsky cornered his partner near the coffee maker.
"What's this all about?"
"What do you mean?" Hutch asked innocently.
"Don't give me that. Why the hell are you volunteering us to be paperboys this weekend? It's our first weekend off in a month!"
Hutch smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Fringe benefits."
Starsky's brows rose, clueless. "What?"
"San Carlos is just across the border, Starsky."
"Yeah, and so is Tijuana."
"Yeah, but Tijuana doesn't have some of the best dirt bike trails like San Carlos."
"Dirt bikes?"
Hutch smiled, his eyes glittering.
"Aw, Hutch…I was plannin' on spending my weekend sleeping in and then waxing the Torino, givin' it a little TLC."
"Starsky, putting a coat of wax on the tomato isn't going to make it any less of an eye sore."
"Hey, don't insult my wheels!"
Hutch stood close to his partner, placing his hands on Starsky's shirt, tugging the material like a kid. "Come on, Starsk! It'll be fun! It'll give us a chance to finally break in the bikes we got at the police auction."
Since Hutch had first seen the two cross-road dirt bikes at the last police auction and had convinced Starsky to go in haves with him on them and had gotten both for a steal, he'd been itching to test them out on some open back trails.
"Come on Starsk! We both could use a little fun and sun and we'll get paid too!"
He leaned in a little closer to his partner trying to cajole him with what Starsky often referred to as his "Minnesota Blond Face" – eyes slightly open, mouth turned upward into a smirky "blond" smile with his head cocked slightly to one side. It was a look Starsky always found extremely hard to ignore and Hutch knew it.
He could see the deep blue eyes starting to waver, cave in, as Starsky's lids dropped to half mast and he let out a soft grumbling sigh.
"Great, it's settled! We'll leave first thing in the morning," he said, his mouth splitting open into a wide, pleased, boyish grin as he patted his partner on the chest, not giving Starsky a chance to argue back.
"I'll get busy and finish typing up the reports for us buddy."
He turned towards their desks.
Starsky opened his mouth, then closed it, as if thinking, then shrugged as if to say who was he to argue if Hutch was volunteering to type up the reports.
It wasn't until they'd stopped by the Pits for dinner later and had settled into their favorite back booth that Hutch was able to talk his plan over to his quiet partner sitting opposite to him.
It was usually Starsky who was the bouncing ball of energy and the one trying to drag Hutch off to one thing or another, but of late his friend hadn't felt like doing anything other than working and spending quiet evenings alone.
Hutch understood. After all, it had only been three months since Terry's death and Starsky still just couldn't seem to be able to shake the sadness. He knew his friend was still grieving. For a while he'd even been pretty worried about Starsky, and had done everything he could think of just to be there for him, to cheer him up.
When he'd seen the dirt bikes, he'd gotten an idea. It was something both actually liked doing and had thought about it several times before.
Growing up in Duluth, there were three things Hutch had always loved to ride: horses, dune buggies and dirt bikes. And although his partner's preference tended to lean towards a slick Harley with a powerful engine and sleek chrome, Starsky was it fact damn good on any kind of wheels, two or four, no matter the hardware.
The weekend would do them both good. Fresh air, sunshine and a couple of engines underneath them. Time to just forget about the toilet bowl they worked in for a little while. Time to hopefully see Starsky smile again.
"San Carlos," Huggy said as he joined the two detectives in the booth sometime later after he got some free time between customers. "I got a cousin that lives down that direction."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Starsky said as he sipped on his beer.
It was a well known fact Huggy came from a huge extended family, although it was often very fuzzy as to just how much true blood relationship existed within.
"Yeah. He runs a little hotel there. Married to a Mexican gal. They got eight kids last time I counted. His name's Jackson."
"What? He's got a regular name, not one named after some animal or piece of fruit?" Starsky snickered.
Huggy shrugged, taking no offense. "He was always the odd one in the family, but cool. If ya need a place to stay on the cheap, I can hook you up."
"Thanks, Hug. That would be great." Hutch replied.
The proprietor nodded. "So when ya leavin'?"
"Early in the morning," Hutch replied.
"I'll give him a call tonight then. Let him know to expect you guys."
"Thanks."
"When we're done here, we're going to swing by Starsky's uncle's place to pick up the bikes. Al agreed to store them for us."
"I'm surprised you're eatin' here then." Huggy looked at Starsky. "I'm sure if your Auntie knew you were stoppin' by, she'd have dinner for the two of you."
Starsky grimaced. "Why do you think we're eating here first?"
It was also a well known fact that Starsky's Aunt Rosie wasn't known to be the best cook, though it never dimmed her enthusiasm to try.
"I thought you had a cast iron stomach, Gordo," Hutch teased.
"How do you think I got that way in the first place?" Starsky replied. "Unless it's won tons, the best advice is eat first, visit Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie later."
Hutch couldn't argue the point, having been a guest with personal experience to Aunt Rosie's culinary lack of talent.
They paid their bill and left. A short time later Starsky pulled the Torino up in front of a single story house situated behind a four foot tall chain link fence, located in an older section of town. The neighborhood had always been a little run down, but with age it had gotten a little more so. However, for the most part, the lawns were kept up by the residents who had lived on the block for many, many years.
The small three bedroom house was where Starsky had grown up since he was thirteen.
Though Starsky seldom talked about it, Hutch knew it was a place still full of mixed memories. His Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie had treated him well but Starsky had admitted to Hutch that he'd been an angry kid and a troubled teen full of a lot of pain when his mother had shipped him off to the West Coast to live, forced to leave everything he knew behind in New York after his father was killed.
It had been a tough decision and one Starsky had understood more as he'd gotten older, but still had never quite been able to resolve. He'd told Hutch too that he'd gotten into a fair amount of trouble as a teen that his uncle had been forced to deal with, and on more than one occasion, the two had butted heads. But not once had either his aunt or uncle given up on him.
This was always something Hutch admired in Starsky's family. Coming from a more or less aseptic family that believed in raising children to be seen and not heard with a pre-determined destiny already arranged, it had taken Hutch a little time to first get used to Starsky's rather expressive family when he'd met them during their Academy days together.
The two cadets had spent their training days during the week in the dorm rooms of the Academy, but on weekends, Starsky would often drive out to visit his aunt and uncle and would drag Hutch along, particularly if he knew he was going to be staying at the Academy over the weekend rather than going home to Vanessa, his wife at the time.
Hutch seldom opened up to anyone about just how rocky his marriage had been, about how much Vanessa, like his family, hated the whole idea of him becoming a cop, viewing it as a step down in his social status or how much the possible failure in his marriage really affected him.
It was not the "Hutchinson" way to do things, airing one's dirty laundry. But somehow his curly haired room mate just had a way of reading him, then drawing him out and for the first time in his life, Hutch had someone he felt he could really confide in, understood him and trusted to keep his confidences. It had been the beginning of their friendship that had only grown deeper and uniquely closer over the years.
Starsky's uncle greeted them at the door. Al was a big burly man, as tall as Hutch but much thicker in girth and greeted both men in his usual way, one meaty hand grasping one of theirs in a hearty, somewhat crushing handshake as he pulled each one towards him, while the other came up and slapped each on the back.
Both winced.
Hutch rubbed his shoulder as Starsky grinned back at him.
They stood in the small eclectically decorated living room which to Hutch always gave off the impression of warmth. It was again a contrast from his own childhood, raised in a large house professionally decorated with rooms used only for "special" occasions.
"So where's Aunt Rosie?" Starsky asked.
"She's taking a cooking class with some of her friends over at the Community Center. She should be home in another hour with her latest creation."
"Oh…uh…well, sorry we'll miss her. We can't really stay long. We need to head out early in the morning," Starsky said, trying his best to sound apologetic.
It didn't fool his uncle for a second as Al grinned. "She's going to be sorry she missed you. As it is, you don't visit as often as she'd like anymore."
"You know how it is, Uncle Al. Hutch and I are usually up to our eyeballs with cases. Besides, all she's going to do is tell me to get my hair cut, find a nice girl to settle down with and eat my vegetables. She worries worse than Ma," Starsky complained.
"That's never going to change, boy," Al said with a laugh as he slapped his nephew on the shoulder again. Starsky winced and it was Hutch's turn to smirk.
"Come on, the bikes are out in the garage."
The two detectives followed Al around to the back of the house where the detached garage stood at the back of the lot.
The two cross-road motor bikes were neatly stored inside under a protective clear plastic covering next to an old, but pristine looking Studebaker.
Hutch gazed at the interior of the garage. It was meticulous, not a single thing without a specific niche for it to be stored. Yet, like the house, it still managed to give the appearance of warmth in the well worn workbenches, stained from use, the posters on the walls of various cars, the display shelves that housed a collection of model train cars, engines and cabooses.
In the corner of the garage there was even a TV set along with a worn leather recliner. On top of the TV set, Hutch noticed three small framed pictures. One was clearly Starsky as a teen casually leaning against the bumper of a car, arms crossed, smiling widely, wearing a leather jacket. Hutch grinned. The other was a picture of Starsky's aunt and uncle and a teen Hutch didn't recognize, but probably guessed was Al and Rosie's only son. Starsky had once told him his cousin had been killed years ago in an auto accident. He had been their only child. The last was a young police officer in a uniform that strongly resembled Starsky. It was clearly a picture of Starsky's father.
Despite himself, Starsky lingered on the last photo. Al came over to his side, as if reading his thoughts. "He was a good man, your father."
"I know."
Starsky turned abruptly away as if he didn't want to revisit that pain. Hutch understood. Starsky was already hurting enough right now trying to come to terms with Terry's death.
Al uncovered the dirt bikes beneath the clear plastic tarp.
"They're all tuned up, gassed up and ready to go."
From a shelf in the garage, Al retrieved two helmets and handed them to the two detectives.
"Thanks, Al," Starsky said.
"Yeah, thanks," Hutch also said, then added. "And thanks for letting us store the bikes here."
"No problem. Always room." Al then addressed his nephew. "Why don't you pull your car into the driveway? You can leave it here until you get back."
"Thanks, Al."
After pulling the bikes out onto the street, Starsky drove the Torino up the driveway and behind the chain link gate.
Prior to coming over, they had already stopped by Starsky's place and had collected the few essentials needed for the weekend, stuffing them inside a knapsack. Starsky took the knapsack out of his car and strapped it onto the back of the bike.
Before he hopped on the motor bike, Al pulled Starsky into a brief bear hug and slapped him on the back again. "Take care, boy."
Starsky grinned. "Yes, sir."
The curly haired detective climbed on the bike, settling the helmet over his head.
"And you be sure to make time for your aunt when you come back."
Starsky rolled his eyes, but grinned as he brought the engine to life.
Hutch smiled, doing the same.
Al waved them both off as they disappeared down the street.
They didn't go straight back to Hutch's place right away, but instead took their time, both enjoying the feel of the two wheels under their legs. Eventually they parked the bikes in front of Venice Place, having already decided Starsky would camp out on Hutch's couch so they could get an early start in the morning, pick up the paperwork from the D.A. and head out of town.
Hutch shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up and removing the holstered magnum as well. He grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge, handing one to Starsky as he headed for his bedroom alcove. "I'm gonna hop in the shower."
"Mind if I use your phone?" Starsky asked. "It's Friday."
Hutch shook his head. "Nah, go ahead."
He left his partner to make his usual Friday night phone call back East, a ritual Starsky had done since, well since as long as Hutch could remember.
Hutch turned on the shower, letting the water run as he sipped on his beer and rooted around for something to put on afterwards. He then stripped and went back into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush, slapped some tooth paste it and scrubbed his teeth until steam fogged up the mirror.
Adjusting the temperature down just a bit, he hopped into the steaming shower savoring the sting of the hot water against his back.
For a while he just stood under the spray letting it hit his skin and run down his back loosening up the tight, often kinked muscles before grabbing the bar of soap and scrubbing himself down. He washed his hair last and twenty minutes later he was briskly drying himself off, his skin pink and glowing, feeling clean and refreshed.
He pulled on a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt and, still toweling his wet hair, wandered back into kitchen with his half empty beer to find his partner leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, still talking on the phone.
He smirked as Starsky rolled his eyes as he held the receiver to his ear. "Yeah, yeah, Ma. I get it." He glanced up at Hutch. "Look, I gotta go. Hutch needs the phone. Yeah, okay, yeah…I'll tell him. Goodnight Ma. I know. Luv ya too."
Starsky hung up, shaking his head slightly before taking a swig of beer.
"Ma says hi," his partner informed him. "Says she got the pictures I sent. Says you need a haircut."
Hutch pointed a finger at his chest. "I need a haircut?" He tugged at his fine hair. It wasn't that long, barely passed his collar.
Starsky grinned. "We'll, it's always a given thing with me. She thinks I'm influencing you too much."
"That right?"
Hutch got a grunt for a reply.
"So how's your mom doing anyway?"
"Okay, I guess. Nicky's still giving her some trouble. Same old crap. He's lucky I'm not there!" Starsky groused.
Hutch didn't say much. He knew it aggravated Starsky that his younger brother still managed to get into trouble, trouble that worried his mom, but living on the opposite coast made it difficult for Starsky to make Nicky tow the line.
"If you left me any hot water, Blintz, think I'll hop in the shower myself," Starsky said.
"Sure, go ahead," Hutch replied, reaching over to fill a watering can up he kept next to the sink.
Starsky disappeared. A short while later Hutch could hear the deep baritone voice singing in the shower.
Shaking his head, Hutch wandered out to the greenhouse and started watering his many plants knowing they would be gone for a few days.
He soon got into his routine, enjoying fussing and examining each one.
At some point the shower went off and he heard Starsky calling from the bedroom. "Hey, Hutch, where's my blue sweats?"
"How would I know?" Hutch yelled back as he made his way into the living room to start on the potted plants scattered about.
"Because you borrowed them last, remember?"
"I did? Oh, yeah…um….I think they're in the bottom of my closet."
"Your closet?"
Hutch heard rummaging as he went back into the kitchen and refilled the watering can.
"They're not here."
"Um…Look under my gym bag," Hutch called returning to the living room and examining his fichus sitting in the corner.
"Your gym bag! Terrific!" He could hear his partner grumbling. "I hope ya at least washed them!"
More rummaging.
"Hey, I wondered where that shirt went!"
Hutch grinned, before becoming engrossed in his philodendron.
A few minutes later Starsky came out wearing said blue sweat pants hanging low on his lean hips and nothing else except for the towel draped over his shoulders, holding up a wadded piece of material covered in dust.
"I think those dust bunnies in the back of your closet are alive, pal. You think next time you borrow one of my shirts, ya can a least wash the stain before it sets?"
"Sorry."
His partner grumbled before depositing the shirt in the laundry basket.
Starsky then grabbed a second beer and plopped down on the couch and flipped through the channels until he found an old movie that drew his interest while Hutch continued to engross himself in his many plants.
Starsky would occasionally grin or shake his head as he went back and forth between the greenhouse and the living room, examining each potted plant, talking to a few of them, frowning when he found a couple of bugs on one or some dried leaves on another. It was a routine he got easily lost in humming to himself as he drank his beer. It was also an activity he could easily do without feeling the least self-conscious in the presence of his partner.
To Hutch his plants were the equivalent to Starsky and the Torino. Each never quite understood the passion the other had towards their "babies" but accepted it nonetheless.
Once done with his task nearly an hour later, Hutch decided to join Starsky who was currently lazily stretched full length out on the couch.
"Mind making some room for me, Gordo?"
Starsky yawned, shifted and allowed Hutch to sit down, only to find a few minutes later his partner's bare ankles crossed and resting on his lap.
"What am I, a footstool?" Hutch asked.
"I can't help it if ya decided to plop your ass down on my bed." He shifted, grimacing. "Uncomfortable as it is. When are you going to invest in a decent couch?"
"About the same time you do, buddy."
"My couch is not as bad is this one."
"Yeah, tell that to my back the next time I sleep over your place. My feet hang over the edge too."
Starsky grinned, taking a swig of his beer. "It's not designed for big blond Minnesota pine trees. More for snuggling up with a soft chick."
Starsky suddenly became quiet and Hutch looked over at his friend, guessing where his train of thoughts had wandered back to.
His partner let out a long sigh. "I still miss her, Hutch. Miss the feel of her, smell of her, how she just seemed ta fit so perfectly next ta me."
Hutch placed his hand on Starsky's bare ankle, rubbing it gently. "I know, buddy. I know."
That sat quietly together.
"Do ya think it'll ever get better, Hutch, the pain?" Starsky asked a little later.
Hutch gave a slight shrug. "Maybe, in some ways," Hutch said, giving him an honest answer. "I still miss Gillian, but at least when I think of her now, I remember more of the good things and not so many of the sad."
Starsky stared at the lip of his empty beer bottle with half hooded eyes. "I guess I'm just not there yet."
Hutch squeezed his leg making Starsky glance up.
"I know that too," Hutch said softly. "But you know I'm always here for you, pal, whenever it gets too bad."
"I know that too," Starsky said, repeating Hutch's words back to him.
Starsky then yawned and moved his feet, pushing them up against Hutch's hip. "Now get out of my bed, Blondie, and let me get some shut eye if you plan on getting me up for an early start."
Hutch smiled. "Okay."
He pulled himself up and, before retiring to his bedroom alcove, dug out a pillow and an extra blanket for his partner.
"Thanks," Starsky said. "See ya in the morning."
Hutch nodded and retired.
~s~
Starsky heard Hutch moving around in the bedroom alcove and a few minutes later the light went out.
Starsky stretched out on the couch, still in just his sweat pants, not bothering to retrieve the extra blanket Hutch had left for him. It was a warm night and at the moment he was comfortable. But despite the tiredness he felt, he found it hard to fall asleep, his mind once again drifting back to Terry. Her warmth, her softness, the way she laughed at his dumb jokes, the way she liked to snuggle up to him in the evenings, even the way she had accepted his job and even Hutch, he missed. He missed every part of her, especially the way they made love. She had just been so perfect for him.
The night she had died, a piece of him had died with her and if it hadn't been for Hutch, Starsky didn't think he'd could have survived this far.
He also knew he'd had come very close to killing Prudholm the day they finally caught him. At that moment he had been filled with such hate, such need for pure revenge, but in the end, he couldn't do it, not in cold blood for it would have only tainted the beautiful memory of Terry's love and brought him down to the same twisted level as the deranged man.
Eventually he did manage to drift off, but his dreams were filled with her presence and when he awoke briefly in the middle of the night, he found his cheeks wet with tears. He turned onto his side and buried his face into the pillow with a sad lonely sigh for a dream lost.
TBC...