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Author's note: Recently, a few of us sent around an e-mail answering some questions and that got me to thinking (a dangerous pasttime, I know).
The Quiz
By LovinFace
Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson finished up the report on Jenny Brown and pulled it out of the typewriter. The smell of fresh paint permeated the air, and had instantly given Hutch a headache. But at least the painters had finished for the most part. And sure, the office was draped in drop cloths, but the desks were still there. The piggybank was still perched near the edge. Some things had been placed haphazardly on the desks. And someone had put Starsky's chair back in his spot.
Hutch sat at his desk, painfully aware of the empty chair across from him. The chair where his partner, David Starsky, always sat…maybe not always conventionally…he had a habit of sitting on the back of the chair…but he did sit there nonetheless. Hutch smiled at the thought. Starsky on the back of the chair. Starsky sitting in the chair, leaning back with his feet propped up on the desk. And sometimes Starsk would just sit on the desk itself. Didn't seem to matter to him.
But now it looked like Starsky would never occupy the desk again. He was lying in a hospital bed, clinging to life with the same stubbornness that often exasperated his partner when applied to other situations. God, Starsk, you've cheated death so many times before. But this time… Hutch couldn't complete the thought, as an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness settled over him.
Hutch looked at his in-box. Papers were spilling out onto the desk itself. He picked them up, giving them a quick glance and then deciding their fate. A report on the Golden Lady murders. He'd have to finish that one. Papers that needed to be filed. He could pass those off to some of the other guys. Memos about meetings that had already come and gone he trashed.
He picked up the next piece of paper. A quiz of some sort. Some of that interoffice stuff that goes around. He was about to throw it away when one of the questions grabbed his attention.
What are you most afraid of?
Hutch gripped the paper tightly. That was easy. He was most afraid of Starsky dying. He couldn't write it down though. He placed the paper on his desk and picked up a pencil.
Some of the questions were relatively simple.
What's your full name? Kenneth Hutchinson.
What's your place of birth? Duluth, Minnesota.
What's your natural hair color? Blonde.
Hutch jotted down the answers to the questions easily, without thought.
Been in a car accident? Hutch smiled at that one. "Repeatedly," he muttered and wrote down the same.
Favorite food? Owl's beak, butterfly bones, and organic Japanese seaweed with a dash of desiccated liver. He smiled, remembering some of Starsky's terminology for the natural health foods he ate.
Ever love someone so much it made you cry? Hutch turned the pencil up on its end and tapped the eraser on the desk. Yes, he'd loved someone so much it made him cry. Vanessa at one time, though he hated to admit it. Gillian – he still missed her, still dreamed about her sometimes. Terry – remarkable lady with a big heart and the ability to make his partner happy like no woman had ever done. Starsky – there were no words to describe how much he loved his partner…more than a friend, more than a brother…really part of himself. Hutch read the question again, then answered simply "Yes."
He reached the question that had grabbed his attention in the first place.
What are you most afraid of? Losing Starsky. Having to live on this earth without him by my side. Hutch read his answer, then scratched through the word "live" and replaced it with "exist," knowing that was all he'd be doing if Starsky died.
Picking up the ping pong ball next to the phone, Hutch began absently bouncing it on the table. The image of playing the game with his partner produced a smile. Things were just coming together for the two men. They had come to terms with the loss of Lionel Rigger and their failure to protect him. They had reconciled after the disaster of Kira. And after a year of disillusionment, doubt, and pain, they were finally getting back on track. The world was theirs – key word being "was," Hutch thought. He sighed. He needed to get back to the hospital and be by his partner's side. They had an agreement, an understanding. They would not allow the other to die alone. And Starsky was going to die.
Hutch shivered and he was overcome with an uneasy feeling. Starsky.
Still playing with the ball, Hutch called the hospital and waited as the nurse went to bring Captain Dobey to the phone.
"How's he doing Cap'n?" asked Hutch, dropping and catching the ball next to the phone.
"I think you better get down here right away, Hutch."
Dobey heard the muffled thud of the phone and the light tapping sound of the ping pong ball as its bouncing ceased.