Hutch stood on the beach looking out at the ocean, tumbling his detective's badge in his hands. He figured the old badge had polluted him long enough. He became a police officer to help people. Now it seemed he was doing more harm than good. Lionel was dead and it was all his fault. Judge McClellan might possibly get off scot-free. Huggy wasn't even talking to him.
He was buried so deep in his thoughts he didn't hear the voice that called "watch out" or the whiz of the Frisbee right before it smacked him in the head, knocking him cold.
"Hey, buddy. You okay?" The surf pounded in Hutch's ears but it was easy to recognize the voice of his partner. Starsky gently raised Hutch's head from the sand, cradling him like he had after the car bomb exploded just a few days ago.
"Yeah, I guess so. What happened?"
"Looks like you got knocked in the head. Maybe it was from that thing over there." Starsky nodded his head to a Frisbee laying like an over-sized shell in the sand a few feet away.
"Oh." Hutch rubbed the spot by his left eye where a knot was forming. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt.
"What were ya doin' out here anyway? I been lookin' all over for ya." Starsky helped him to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arm.
"I was just thinking about quitting the force," Hutch admitted.
"Quitting!" Starsky sputtered. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"I just don't think I'm doing any good as a cop. I can't seem to make a difference to anyone."
Hutch responded dejectedly.
"That's crazy talk, blondie. Of course you make a difference."
"To who?"
"Lots of people." Starsky insisted.
"Name one." Hutch challenged.
"If you insist." Starsky sighed and took Hutch's hand. An odd wind whirled around them. It smelled strangely of sandalwood and patchouli. Hutch closed his eyes and felt himself flying. Then his stomach gave a little lurch as if he had just dropped several floors in an elevator.
He opened his eyes with a start. He was in the visitation cubicle at the city jail, but no one seemed able to see him. Starsky - or someone how looked exactly like Starsky since his partner was standing right next to him - was talking to Huggy who sat behind the glass window. The wrong side of the glass window.
"Mr. Brown," Starsky/not Starsky was explaining sternly through the intercom, "You're goin' away for a long time if ya don't do as we say."
"I'm just a business man trying to make a living." Huggy retorted indignantly. Under the fluorescent lights, the orange of his jumpsuit was particularly unflattering. "How did I know those pet rocks would come back to bite me in the ass?"
Starsky looked over his shoulder surreptitiously, then leaned in close to the dirty glass, his words a harsh whisper. "We need someone to take this fall, but it doesn't have to be you. I know you're innocent. But evidence..."
"The evidence planted by that sleazy, fink partner of yours," Huggy spit out. "Tell your buddy Corman he can rot in hell for all I care. I may not be an angel, but I'm not crooked like you two turkeys. I must have been crazy for helping you."
Starsky – the real Starsky - turned to Hutch who was watching in shock, his jaw sagging like the underside of an old couch. He put two fingers underneath Hutch's chin and gently pushed up.
"Ya see, Hutch. Without you here, I have Corman as a partner. And I'm sour just like him. I don't have anyone to stay strong for. I'm ready to go along with Corman and send Huggy up the river. There's no White Knight – for either of us."
"Huggy needs ya, Hutch. And I need ya. I ain't nothin' without you by my side." Starsky smiled at him tenderly.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Starsky took his hand again. A wind came again from out of nowhere carrying an aroma that started out as garlic but then changed to cinnamon and cloves. Hutch felt his feet lift from the ground for a split second, only to drop back down again. Hutch held on to Starsky tightly, trusting him to somehow keep him safe.
They were at the corner of 5th and Main where a rotund black man in a patrolman's uniform directed traffic in the middle of the street like a clumsy orchestra conductor. It was raining. A Dodge darted treacherously close by him, splashing a puddle of oily water onto his pant leg. A VW bug honked just for spite.
"That looks like Captain Dobey." Hutch peered through the raindrops without getting wet.
"It is Captain Dobey. Only now it's Patrolman Dobey."
"What happened?"
"Remember those police physicals we have to take every year?"
"Yeah."
"And remember how you always help Dobey drop a few pounds just before by feeding him nothin' but butterfly bones and wheat germ so he'll make the weight standard?"
"It's not butterfly bones, dummy, it's. . ." Hutch watched Starsky standing in the not-rain, a somber expression on his face. "Never mind. Go on, finish what you were saying."
"Well, you weren't around to help him loose the weight. So they busted him down to traffic cop until he does."
"You're kidding!"
"I wish I was, buddy." They stood for a minute watching their Captain – make that former captain – wave stop and go in the downpour. The cars couldn't care less, but Hutch could. He suddenly grabbed Starsky's shoulders looking desperately for answers.
"Wha'? Starsky? What is this? What am I seeing?"
"You're watching the world without you in it." Dream Starsky looked back at Hutch with deep blue eyes of concern. "See buddy? Without you, Dobey loses his edge and gets no respect, Huggy goes to jail, and I become a lazy, crooked cop."
Hutch released his grip on Starsky's shoulders and sagged into him while the world spun out of control.
Starsky's heart ached for his crestfallen friend. He pulled Hutch's head to his chest and rubbed circles against his back. "I know, I hate it, too. It makes me so sad. But there's more, Hutch. I know you're scared, but trust me. You need to see this."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The wind turned cold and frosty. It had the peculiar scent of nail polish and Love's Baby Soft cologne. Hutch shivered and Starsky wrapped his arms around him to pull him close. Hutch couldn't help but sigh as he was enveloped in his partner's solid warmth.
The street scene faded away Hutch and Starsky found themselves on a movie set. They watched a drama unfold below them as they hovered high up in a corner. A group of harried makeup artists and hairdressers were buzzing around a teenage girl with hair the color of Miss Clairol #4, True Blonde, like flies on . . . excrement.
"God! Can't you people get it right?" The girl tossed her curls and complained with a loud, valley girl affectation. "I want a Tab. Not a coke, a T-A-B! Morons! I'm surrounded by morons!"
She slammed a soda can down onto the makeup table and carmel-colored liquid splashed out onto the nearest toady.
Despite his distaste, Hutch realized there was something familiar about the obnoxious girl.
"Who's that?" He asked.
"Don't you recognize her? That's Pete.'"
"Sweet little Pete?" His eyes widened in alarm. "What happened to her, Starsk? She's a bitch!"
"You were never there to help her find a good home." Starsky placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "So after her dad died, she had to go live with an awful foster family. They took away her baseball glove. Called her Molly."
"T. . . took away her glove?" Hutch gulped.
"It gets worse, babe." Starsky's hand tightened. "They made her watch hours of Disney programming. Said it was wholesome entertainment. Then one day, they took her to an open casting call. A Disney rep spotted her and..."
"No, Starsk! Not our Pete! A Disney kid?" Hutch covered his face with his hands. "Take me back, Starsk. I want to go back," he moaned bleakly.
"Are ya sure about that, Hutch? Because there's lots more people I could show ya. There's Kiko and Joey and Alice and . . . "
"What do you mean?" Hutch lowered his hands slowly and looked at Starsky in confusion.
"Doncha get it, Blintz? You may not be perfect, but ya got the biggest heart of anyone I know. You mean a lot to a lot of people. Startin' with me." Starsky's eyes were overflowing with love. Hutch felt a magnetic pull impossible to break as they leaned closer and closer toward each other. So close now that he felt Starsky's breath feather against his lips . . .
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Hutch!" A hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. "Hey, Hutch!"
He spit out a mouthful of sand and found himself lying face down on the beach. "Wha?"
Starsky gently rolled him over and peered at him with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Other than my head feeling like it was just introduced to a brick wall, I guess I'm okay."
"I've been lookin' everywhere for ya. You really had me worried." Starsky wasn't kidding. Fear for his partner shown bright in his eyes. "What happened?"
Together they managed to maneuver Hutch to his knees. "I don't know. We were just watching Pete, I mean Molly, get her stage makeup on and . . ."
"Hey mister. I'm sorry about that." A teenage boy interrupted as he jogged over to them with an apologetic expression on his face. "I tried to warn you."
"You can see me?" Hutch rose excitedly to his feet, grabbed the boy by his shoulders and spun him around.
"Of course I can." The boy replied when he steadied himself then nervously stepped back from Hutch's grasp. All kinds of strange people were showing up at the beach lately. "But you must not have seen my Frisbee."
"Frisbee?' Starsky echoed. They followed the boy's eyes as he turned toward the plastic disk lying a few feet away. An over-sized shell half dug into the sand.
Hutch gingerly touched the knot on his head where pain pulsed. His vision swam and he felt himself wobble. "I must have been hallucinating. Thank god! That means Corman's not your partner and Dobey isn't a traffic cop and . . ."
"You're talkin' crazy, Hutch." Starsky put his arm around Hutch to steady him, holding him just a bit tighter than was necessary. "I better get you somewhere I can check out your head, babe. You can come on over to my house and relax. 'White Christmas' is on tonight. It's one of my favorite movies."
"'White Christmas?' Are the holidays here already?" It was only dizziness that caused Hutch to lean comfortably against his partner.
"Yeah, well ya know how they keep pushin' the season." Starsky's voice hummed pleasantly in his ear.
"Have you heard the rumors about Bing and Danny being gay?" Hutch blurted out, then immediately wondered why.
"Really?" Starsky replied. "I knew there was something about them I liked. . . ."
Fin