After Starsky's death, Hutch finds himself in a parallel world where Starsky is alive but never met a Ken Hutchinson. Alternate Universe, Parallel Universes.
Parallel Hutch
STARSKY
All my life I'd been feeling like somebody was missing. When I was a kid I thought it was a baby brother or sister I should've had. I loved Nicky, but somebody more should've been there.
My ma didn't like it when I talked like that; she'd start to cry. So I learned to shut up about it and kept it to myself. She thought I was grieving for Dad in my own weird way. She also thought that if I made up imaginary friends.
One of my friends was a boy about my age with blond hair. I didn't tell her about him at all.
When I got older and somebody was missing, I felt like maybe it was a girl. But nobody I dated seemed to fill that ache I had inside, of wanting somebody to really understand and care about me without ulterior motives.
In the Army, I wanted that friend who would be there for me no matter what.
I found out you have to be that friend more than you get to have one. And mud and blood and drugs on the sly don't always bring out the best in men. No, I didn't find my ideal friend there.
I didn't find him in the police academy either, but by then I'd given up looking. I made a few pals, I passed the requirements, and I went to work.
I can't remember the last time I thought about wanting that perfect friend. I know I gave up a long time ago. I also know when those feelings came back, like they do once in a while when you're hurting and lonely and just wish somebody gave a damn, I always pushed 'em down and tried to forget about them. It's better to pretend you don't feel lonelier than anybody else does.
I know one thing. I sure didn't expect that blond guy to show up and turn my life upside down.
#
HUTCH
My Starsky had been dead for eight months and seventeen days. Almost nine months. Almost the time it takes to bring a new life into this world. And I was just as much of a wreck as I'd been to begin with.
Captain Dobey still had me on desk work. He'd probably have let me take a longer leave, but I think it would've killed me. I admit it: I drank too much. It was hard to be reasonable, or sober, or look at things clearly after my best friend in the world died.
Busting Gunther didn't help. Even though he was in jail, it didn't help. Starsky was gone. Gunther had ripped my heart out and stomped on it.
For a while, I couldn't look at anything that reminded me of Starsky. I mean something as simple as a report he'd filled out. Or a candy bar wrapper tied into a knot in the middle, the way he used to do when he was bored.
It just about killed me when I found an old pair of his sneakers lying in the back of my closet, like something hurt or dead, faded blue and ratty, unlike how flashy they used to look on his feet. So alive, with him in them, faster than moonlight and wind. Looking at them now, I just couldn't breathe.
I'd talked seriously about making a move. Huggy said he didn't want to see me go, but he understood. There were so many places in the city I couldn't go anymore, because everywhere reminded me of Starsky. Sometimes I'd be driving down a street, and all the sudden pain would hit with poker-hot intensity of memory. I'd remember something we said on the way down this very street: my partner's quick laughter, or a silly argument we'd had. My Bay City became a constricted place, a torture chamber where you have to watch so carefully where you stand, or your heart will be crushed.
People say after a while, the pain lessens and you can remember the good things. I hadn't got there yet.
In the end, I did leave Bay City. But not the way I expected to.
#
STARSKY
We thought it was a joke, at first.
Jake shoved his head round the corner and jerked a thumb down the hall. "Hey, guys, some nutjob's pretending to be a cop! He's got a fake badge and everything!"
Eager to escape paperwork, we exited in mass, scraping chairs back, dropping half-finished reports, letting pencils roll away and escape. I made it third. I'm fast on my feet. These new blue and white sneakers I'd got made me feel faster yet.
This big blond guy was standing there ranting when we showed up, telling off somebody like they really deserved it. He looked seriously pissed off and a bit intimidating. He had raggedy blond hair and a mustache, looked like he didn't eat regularly. His clothes had seen better days. I wondered if he was a homeless drunk. Then I got sight of the badge he held up. It looked genuine, all right. But I'd never seen this guy before in my life.
"Let me see that." I shoved my way forward and grabbed the badge. I examined it closely, tugged at it to see if it was genuine. "Hutchinson, huh?"
The homeless guy shut up. He turned to stare at me. All the blood drained from his face. He had blue eyes, some of the most miserable blue eyes I'd ever seen, and he looked like they'd seen a ghost.
"Y-y-you can't be. Starsk!" Big hands that were shaking a little reached out to me, caught my hand, felt my arm, and reached for my face. "You're alive?"
"Get off." I pushed his hands down, grimacing. "I've never met you before."
His eyes filled with tears. It kinda shocked me, how quick they did, how vulnerable he looked. His eyes were so blue and so confused. "Is that what happens? I get you back, but you d-don't remember me?"
"Look, there's no Hutchinson here in the BCPD. How'd you get this badge and just who the hell do you think you are, buddy?"
"Buddy. I'm your buddy. And you're dead." Hutchinson slid down to the floor, collapsing on long legs. Where one of his legs was pressed against mine, I had a weird, tingly feeling. Like I oughta know this guy, but I didn't. I mean, I never even glimpsed him before. He certainly wasn't somebody who should know my name and start crying because I didn't recognize him.
He laughed a little, almost a sob. "Starsky!"
I don't know. The way he said my name gave me the shivers. Like somebody walked over my grave.
Scared me, to be honest. But it wasn't the way I felt scared dealing with somebody who'd flipped their lid. It was scary the way you're afraid to see somebody walk around a corner in a horror movie.
Because you know something big is coming, and it won't ever be the same again.
#
When Starsky's hands hauled me up, I found myself following. Here he was, alive, after eight months and seventeen days. I'd follow him anywhere.
But I couldn't figure out was where I was why he was alive, and why he didn't know me. Yet I could deal with all of that when his hands were on me, guiding me down the hallway. I felt a tingling awareness from those hands. It was still Starsky. No matter what had changed, it was still Starsky.
"I'm going to take care of this, guys. He thinks he knows me, maybe I'll get some answers from him!"
I was still pretty well in shock, but it registered to me that the layout of the department was somewhat different. Starsky was taking me to an interrogation room I didn't recognize. So, not everything was the same here…
"Okay, Mr. Hutchinson." He got me seated in a familiar, battered chair and faced me across the table, sitting on a chair backwards, his arms crossed on the top of it. It could've been any number of suspects he was facing—but not me, not his partner.
He pointed at me. His voice was calm, level—and dangerous. "I brought you here because I felt sorry for you. You're obviously havin' a bad day. But I need to know why you think you're a cop, what you're doing here, and why you recognize me. Now."
Chapter two
STARSKY
I stared at the man sleeping on my couch. My pal Colby from the Academy used to tell me I was too soft-hearted to be a cop. He said I was an easy mark for every con and grifter. Maybe I'd proved him right, by bringing Hutchinson back to my place last night. Maybe not.
I wonder what ever happened to old Colby?
I pulled the curtains open. The curtain rings sounded loud in the morning calm. It was real early. I'd set my alarm; I had to find something to do with Hutchinson before I started my work day.
I looked down at him again. His pale hair was thinning, in need of a wash. He should've trimmed his moustache a week ago. Probably needed a shower. His legs were too long for the couch and he'd pulled them up awkwardly, looking uncomfortable even in his sleep.
I sighed, went out to the kitchen to make coffee. I was gonna need it.
Why did I feel like I'd taken a stray puppy home with me, and was going to regret it when it started peeing on the floor? Though, far as I could tell, that wasn't one of Hutchinson's problems.
Crazy, now that might just be. That story he'd told me… I shook my head again. Got goose bumps every time I thought about it. This guy claims to know everything about me. The thing is, he's right on most counts. And he says we were partners for years—until I died.
Yeah. Till I died. Now he shows up here, a guy I've never met. And he looks at me like I'm his long lost brother or something. It's weird to be on the end of that look. Like he would be happy just to stare at me all day, because he can't believe his best wish in the world came true.
"Starsk?" A hesitant voice followed me, and I turned to see Hutchinson padding into the kitchen, scratching at his blond hair and yawning.
He looked at me hesitantly. "Did you think about what I said?"
Did I think about it? Haven't done anything else. "Yeah. Why don't you go take a shower, Blondie? I'll bring you a bathrobe."
He grinned like that's the best thing he'd heard all week. "Okay." His whole face lit up, teeth showing in such a bright smile, like I'd just made his day and he was so happy that I'd lend him a bathrobe.
He went right to my bathroom, even though I swear he never had time to even look for it last night. He collapsed on the couch when we arrived, worn out from stress, probably from drinking, and definitely from crying and telling me his tale of woe.
The thing is, even though I had my doubts listening to his story, I found myself really jealous of this imaginary friendship these two guys had. Imaginary Starsky and Hutchinson, and all that caring that lurked behind his words: a man I'd die for, and one who'd die for me.
It was strange when Hutchinson looked at me like I was a ghost, though. Like he was just never going to stop staring, and more often than not, his eyes filming over with tears.
It was real weird having a guy cry over me like that.
It made the old ache spring to life.
#
HUTCH
Hutch showered as if in a dream. He dried off and slid into Starsky's ratty bathrobe. It was familiar in texture, but a different color than the bathrobe his Starsky used to have.
This Starsky looked at him like a stranger. They hadn't had years together. But damn it, he was here, and now Hutch wanted to live, if only to protect this Starsky from Gunther, the way he hadn't been able to back home.
'Here,' wherever here was, had definite differences. Some big, some little. He wasn't sure what to do about it. He just knew he could not walk away from this Starsky.
He was whistling a little when he emerged. He went straight to the cupboard and got out two coffee mugs. They were brown instead of red, and shaped a little different.
Starsky watched him.
"Thanks for the robe," said Hutch, feeling shy. He ducked past Starsky and his intent gaze, went to the coffee maker and poured them each a cup, then fetched the cream and sugar, made Starsky's the way he liked it.
"Thanks." Starsky accepted the mug and glanced at the robe's hem. Not a teasing look like he'd have given back home, more an assessing look like he was still trying to catalogue everything about Hutch and figure him out. "It's too short for you."
"Yeah. I'll get changed here in a minute." Not that he had anything to wear, except his dirty old clothes. "Um, actually, if you have a pair of sweat pants I could borrow, and a t-shirt, maybe I could go clothes shopping today? I have some money," he reassured Starsky.
"That's a relief. Here I thought I was gonna be responsible for feeding you and worming you."
Hutch looked up at the wry sound of Starsky's words. A quick, uncertain grin flitting across his face. "Yeah. I don't want to be a burden. I'll—figure something out. Maybe I can find out what my double does in this world." It would be interesting to meet an alternate version of himself. But, why wouldn't Starsky know him?
Starsky grinned. "Just like Star Trek, right?"
"Right."
They shared a grin that felt almost like old times. Starsky drank some coffee, and his eyebrows rose. "Wow. You got it right!"
Hutch wrapped his hands around his mug of black coffee. Steam rose, warming his nose as much as the thick mug warmed his hands. He nodded. "Of course I did."
Starsky pulled out a chair and plopped into it as if it had suddenly become too much effort to stand. "I can't wrap my mind around this." He shook his head, then put a hand to it. "If this is true…" He looked up, eyes dark and suddenly, more so than usual (and this version of Starsky seemed to be serious most of the time). "If this is true, we gotta figure out how to keep that Gunther thing from happening again. And I want to know why I never met you before."
It was so close to a confession of belief in Hutch's story that he couldn't stop the grin on his face, wide and delighted. "We'll figure it out together." Hutch sat down at the table with him. "Just like old times."
"Except not. Because you seem to know me real well, but I don't know you. Not at all." Starsky reached out a finger and poked Hutch in the chest. Then he gazed into his coffee cup and spoke very quietly. "But I think I want to."
Hutch felt lightheaded, like he couldn't breathe. "So," he said in a light, odd-sounding voice. "Do you want to go to Huggy's, see what he says?"
Starsky gave him an intent look. "You read my mind." He drained his coffee, rose, and shook his head. When he headed towards the door, he turned back for a moment, and tossed over his shoulder these words: "I hope this ain't a trick, Hutchinson, because I'm starting to think I'm gonna like you."
It was all Hutch could do not to run after him and catch him up in a great big bear hug.
Chapter three
STARSKY
"My man! What's kicking?" Huggy bear started towards me wearing a big smile, opening his arms in welcome. Beside me, Hutchinson stopped dead in his tracks and just stared.
Okay, I get that Huggy isn't the easiest thing on the eyes first thing in the morning, specially in that big purple shirt, but he said he knew the man. He could show a little tact. Huggy's not just an informant, he's my pal.
"Hug," said Hutchinson beside me, sounding a little faint. "You've gained weight."
"Naw, you kiddin', man? I've lost some. Dropped twenty pounds just this year." Huggy brought his not-so-skinny self over to join us.
He looked Hutchinson up and down. I saw him frown when he noticed the clothes: mine. Huggy cast me a look that said, 'You're being an easy mark!' I grinned sheepishly at him. "Huggy, meet Hutchinson. Hutchinson, Huggy Bear."
"Uh, hi." Hutchinson extended a hand awkwardly. Huggy enveloped it in one of his own. His double chins wobbled a little as he nodded hello.
"Sorry," said Hutchinson. "I'm just—used to you being skinnier."
"Skinny? Man, I haven't been skinny since I was ten years old!" He looked at Hutch closer. "You knew me back then? I usually don't forget a face, but I don't recognize you."
"Uh—no. I knew you—just yesterday. But far away from here. The place is much the same, though." He looked around the restaurant approvingly.
"Sounds like somebody's tripping." As Hutchinson looked around, Huggy made a swirling motion with one finger near his head. I shook my head, frowning. He's not crazy. Or maybe I just didn't want him to be crazy?
"It's a long story, Hug. Let's sit down in a booth and talk about it."
"If you want to sit down in a booth, you can do it without me. I'll sit at a table."
Hutchinson blinked. "O-oh. Sorry. Sure."
He even pulled out the chair for Huggy, being super polite. Something told me that wasn't his usual style.
#
HUTCH
Huggy listened to Hutch's tale without interrupting more than twice. Beneath the extra weighed, he was still the same perceptive, savvy man. It just took some adjustment. When you were used to a Huggy Bear so skinny he could've doubled for a telephone pole, and found yourself staring at his three-hundred pound double, it was enough to startle a man.
But Huggy seemed to accept the story even faster than Starsky had. Which, if you thought about it, had been pretty quickly.
"Hug." Starsky closed a hand on Huggy's arm to get his attention gently.
He's protective of him, realized Hutch, and felt proud. Were Starsky and Huggy closer friends without Hutch here to interfere? Or was it because Huggy needed protected more, without his speed and ability to blend into the crowd?
Starsky said, "You used to work as a private detective, Hug. Do you think you could track down this guy's parents for us and find out if there is a Kenneth Hutchinson somewhere?"
"Sure." Huggy nodded his massive head. "I'll get my Turkey to help."
"I thought that was 'Turquet'?" interrupted Hutch.
"Yeah, we're tryin' out a new nickname. The business didn't exactly bloom." He shook his head slowly. "I'm lucky to have The Pits."
"We're all lucky you've got The Pits." Starsky grinned. "Especially when you give your favorite police officers free French fries!"
"Don't be passing the word around, now." Huggy gave him a mock-scolding look. He rose slowly. "In the meantime, have you thought about what the blond one is going to do with himself?"
Starsky opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He looked at Hutch, who stared back just as perplexed. "I guess he can crash with me," he offered awkwardly.
Hutch swallowed. "W-what were you going to suggest, Huggy?" He kept his gaze off Starsky.
"You could work here, my man! If you know the place so well. I could use the help, since my best waitress just quit. It can just be till you get on your feet, if you don't want to commit to anything."
Hutch felt a startled, incredulous grin fill his face. "Hug, you're the best!"
#
STARSKY
When Huggy left to get our food, I turned to Hutch. "I hope you won't look down on Hug because of his weight. He's been through more than you know."
I debated telling him about Artie Solkin, but it felt too soon. Even if I wanted this Hutchinson guy to be my friend the way he thought he was, I'd feel like I was betraying Huggy if I told his secrets.
Hutchinson just nodded, his brow furrowing. It seemed to do that a lot. Some part of me wanted to reach out and take a swipe at his pale hair that was falling down over his forehead. I resisted.
Hutchinson had been keeping his hands to himself pretty well after that first time when I pushed him away. But when he first saw me it was like he had to touch me just to be sure I was real.
Now, I was the one halfway wondering if this was real. Maybe it would all be a dream, and I'd wake up, lonely as ever, but not half as confused.
"Man, I wonder how heavy Dobey is in this world?" mused Hutchinson.
"What are you talking about? Dobey's real fit."
Hutchinson turned large blue eyes on me and blinked. "He is? Really?"
"Of course. He's not in your world?" It made me grin to imagine Dobey letting himself gain a bunch of weight in any universe. He's so self-controlled, goes jogging and everything. I'm sure I couldn't keep up his fitness regime.
Hutchinson gave me a big, incredulous smile. "Is Elmo still alive, then?"
My own smile died as the implication sunk in. Back where he came from, Elmo wasn't. And Dobey was probably as heavy as Hug, because how could he possibly deal with losing Elmo? They were still close, and they hadn't worked together in years. "Yeah. He's alive."
"Oh, I'm glad." Hutchinson looked like he'd just been given a birthday present.
I wanted to read across and ruffle his hair, swat him on the arm, or poke him in the chest… just to prove to myself that this guy was real. Because I was starting to want him to be. The closest friend I never got to have before.
But instead of just enjoying this moment together while we waited for our food, something made me ask. "You want to stay at my place?" It came out a little gruff.
Hutchinson's smile died, replaced by a carefully neutral look. "Oh," he said. "It's… okay. You don't have to put yourself out. I can… find somewhere." He waved a hand vaguely—and knocked over a cup on the tray of a passing waitress.
"Watch it, mister!"
"I'm sorry!" He jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair. The waitress stumbled back from him, dishes rattling ominously.
"Don't help me!" she squeaked. "You're making it worse!"
"I—I'm sorry!" He bit his lower lip and cast the waitress and then me agonized, apologetic looks.
Maybe I shouldn't want him at my place, if he was always this clumsy. But because I was still hurt he didn't want to stay with me, I made a joke of it, putting a grin on my face and leaning back. "You do stand-up often?"
"Very funny." Hutchinson rolled his eyes. But his cheeks flushed and he sort of kept his head down after that, till we were more than halfway through the meal.
I felt ashamed of myself. I wished I could ask him again if he'd stay, but I didn't want to beg or make him feel like he had to. Just because I didn't want to be lonely anymore.
Chapter four
HUTCH
I put down the bag of clothes I'd bought for myself at the used clothing store, and looked around the tiny apartment above Huggy's place. He'd agreed to rent it to me for part of my pay. Most of my pay. I didn't have much money left in my wallet from buying clothes and getting something to eat, so I was quite grateful for his help.
I also felt about as low as a man can get. Here I was, imposing myself on yet another Starsky, probably interfering with his life, maybe messing it up.
It had seemed like he felt he had to invite me to share his apartment, and that was the last thing I wanted: to guilt him into anything.
The next-to-last thing I wanted was to be standing in this tiny apartment with only one light bulb working (and it sort of buzzing as if it wanted to go out). This was where Starsky, my Starsky, had brought me and saved me. He protected me, helped me get the horse out of my system so I wouldn't lose my job. Even though it wasn't my fault. Starsky was so protective of me.
My eyes filled with tears while I thought of him again. I wish I could've protected him better. I wish I could've saved his life.
In the end, all I could do was hold his hand on the parking garage floor while he died. My Starsky. Life hasn't been the same since. It's like walking around with half of me missing.
And now what was I doing? Trying to take over some other Starsky's life, too. Did I really want him to get close to me and probably endanger him, just so I could try to recapture what I'd had with Dave?
It would never be the same anyway. This Starsky was different. He treated me like a stranger, wary still. Maybe it would take the rest of my life before he'd trust me. And then it would only hurt him when I died.
If he died first… well, it didn't bear thinking about. I knew I wouldn't survive it. I'm not sure I really survived losing my Starsky, either.
#
STARSKY
First thing in the morning, I went over to Huggy's. "Well? Any news?" I asked, leaning on the counter.
"The Turkey's working on it. Have a little patience. Oh, here's your server now." He gave me a wink. I stared past him at a solemn-looking Hutch, his hair neatly combed, his moustache shaved off. He wore jeans and a green t-shirt, white apron tied over top of both. He looked real good compared to how he looked yesterday. But his eyes were solemn and sad, and looked like he hadn't got much sleep.
"You feeling okay, Hutchinson?" I asked.
"Uh-huh." He didn't quite meet my gaze. "I'll get you your chili."
Me and Huggy exchanged looks. "You tell him that?" he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
Huggy reached out and squeezed my arm. "I think he's a keeper, Starsk."
I nodded, a bit nervous that I felt the same thing, and so strongly. I wanted Hutchinson in my life. I wanted it with a fierce longing that was accumulated from all the times I'd been lonely and longed for that perfect friend.
And Hutchinson couldn't be, because nobody was. But I wanted that all the same.
I also wanted to chase that sad expression off his face. But something told me I'd never be good enough. After all, his Starsky had died.
Suddenly I wasn't hungry. I pushed back from the counter. "Tell him I'll get it later." I ought to see the captain anyway, tell him something or other about Hutch. After all, it could be important at work if this guy knew things that would happen—even things that might happen.
"Starsk!" A startled, almost agonized voice called after me. I turned to look. Hutch was hurrying after me, carrying a bowl of chili. "Don't skip breakfast! It's the most important meal of the day. And I don't want you filling up on cold pizza and soda. Sit down. Eat at least something." He shoved the chili down onto a booth near the door and looked at me intently, his brow furrowed with worry lines and concern.
I felt a big, incredulous grin growing on my face. "Yes 'Ma.'" I sat down. The chili was spicy and hot the way I like it.
It tasted like the best Huggy's ever made.
Hutch went about his waiter duties, but after a few minutes when things slowed down, the other server nodded to him and Hutch came over and sat down beside me. He just sat there, watching me eat.
"You're not having any?"
He shook his head. "I can't stand hot food. You always…" His face crumpled. "Excuse me." His limbs scrambled as he moved to get out of the booth, shoes slipping a little on the greasy floor.
"Hutch." I caught his arm, biting his name short in my hurry to stop him. "Don't go."
He turned a slow, amazed look on me. I realized I was squeezing his arm hard, probably hurting him. I let go slowly and gave him an apologetic smile.
"You called me 'Hutch,'" he said in a quiet voice.
I felt my adam's apple bob. "I'll call you whatever you want. Look, I know I'm not him. But stay anyway, okay?"
His eyes filled with tears. "I want to, Starsk. I want to! But—"
"No 'but.' Just stay."
He brought a big, clumsy hand up to his face, swiped at his eyes and sniffed a bit, looking embarrassed. "What if I'm—wrecking your life? What if I'm betraying m-my Starsky, by trying to worm my way into your life? Maybe w-we weren't meant to know each other, here. Maybe I'm… supposed to be back where I came from. With my Huggy and Dobey and…" He looked so depressed at the thought, like he just wanted to shut down. His eyes closed against the painful thoughts inside his blond head.
"I don't care."
He opened one eye and peered at me, perplexed. Then he opened the other. "W-what?"
"He had you already. You don't wanna go home, and I don't want you to. What the hell is wrong with my apartment, anyway? So, it's a little crowded. There's no bugs or anything. You already know your way around. We'll get a bed for you so you don't have to sleep on the couch. It'll save rent."
I realized I was begging. I shut up.
Hutch blinked at me. "I'd have to pay you rent," he objected.
I shook my head. I bit down on my tongue to keep from saying 'please, stay with me.' I shouldn't do this to him. It must be hard, saying 'no' to somebody who looked like his dead friend.
"Never mind." I hopped up abruptly to leave this soapy scene behind, feeling my face heat with embarrassment. I shouldn't have pushed him. Now he'd have to let me down easy.
"Starsk." He caught my arm. "I want to. Don't go. I'd love to stay with you. I thought you wouldn't—didn't—" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. I'd love to stay."
I looked back at him, feeling my own eyes wanting to get wet, and trying not to let them. I wanted to say something more, but everything sounded too soapy, and I wasn't sure I could get any words out anyway. I reached out and squeezed his arm, hard. I just couldn't hold myself back anymore. I wasn't letting this guy go. He was my Hutchinson now.
My Hutch. And the dead Starsky can fight me for him, for all I care. He's not going back if I have any say in it!
Just then, Huggy came over with a real serious look on his face. "The Turkey just called, Starsky. He found the Hutchinsons in question, all right." He glanced at Hutch, looking embarrassed and upset. "They had a son named Kenneth. He died when he was ten. He was riding his bike when he got hit by a car."
I thought of my imaginary friend. A cold feeling shuddered down my back. The Hutch I should've known never grew up. He… would've been a little blond boy, as shy and fun as my imaginary friend. Probably looked a bit like Hutch, too.
Hutch blinked at Hug, then me. "Oh," he said. Like he didn't know what to do about it, either.
#
HUTCH
Since I was going to stay, we thought it was best to get the meeting with Dobey over with as soon as possible.
Starsky was nervous, I could tell. I was nervous, too, but not as much. This was… either meant to be, or not. If it was meant to be, Dobey couldn't and wouldn't stop it or find a way to get rid of me. If I was meant to be in this Starsky's life.
I felt easier inside, relieved and free, since I knew he actually wanted me here and I wasn't just horning in. Maybe there was a place for me in his life after all.
I had one question I hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask him yet. But I would. I would.
Chapter five
STARSKY
Hutch blinked a little when he first saw Dobey, but he shook his hand real politely and introduced himself, then got right down to business. He explained clearly, even had a report filled out just the way Dobey liked to explain about the Gunther business. Hutch seemed real worried about that and kept suggesting we might want to keep an eye on him… until Dobey cleared his throat and said that yes, he would take that under advisement.
The interview seemed to last a long time. Dobey had a lot of questions, but he listened carefully to all the answers. I kept shifting my position and trying to get comfortable, till Dobey snapped, "Just go to the bathroom and come right back, Starsky!"
I went. When I got back, Hutch was standing up. He was shaking Dobey's hand real politely. "Thank you, sir. And… would you please introduce me to Elmo someday? I'd really like to meet him."
Dobey tried to hide his pleased smile, but he couldn't. "Ahem. I'd be honored. Perhaps Starsky will bring you over for a family picnic sometime, and you can meet Edith and the kids as well." He looked at me, and I nodded.
"I'd love to bring him, Cap."
When me and Hutch left the room, I reached up to give the back of his neck a little shake, grinning hard. "You charmer."
Hutch ducked his head a little and grinned. "He looked great. You know, I should've been more respectful to my Dobey. He's been there for me. I think he understood more than anybody else, what it was like losing—my partner."
I stopped. It still surprised and kind of hurt me to hear it. Would I always be second best?
"You're gonna go back, aren't you?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him. "You're going back there."
"Huh?" He looked confused. "No, of course not! I don't know if I could. And if I could, I wouldn't. I'm staying here with you." One of his long arms reached out and caught me round the neck and he tugged me playfully closer. It was almost a hug. I let him, and felt something tense and tight inside me begin to loosen. I closed my eyes for a second when he scrubbed my curls. It felt gentler than I expected, kinda comforting.
I opened my eyes. "I won't be perfect. I won't be him," I warned. "I'll probably never be able to work with you, unless Dobey hires you as a consultant or something."
"That's okay. And I'm not going to be perfect either. Starsk." He released me, sounding hesitant.
I looked at him. "Hm?"
Distractedly, he touched his upper lip where his mustache used to be, looking self-conscious. "Who is your partner?"
"Uh, I don't have one. The last couple guys didn't work out." I felt my face hardening a little, prepared for him to think less of me, like I was some kind of hothead or something. But instead he just grinned.
He clapped me on the back. "Well, I hope you're careful enough for two, partner. Because I'm not about to lose you again."
He tugged me closer on the walk from the building, and I found my arm slipping round him, too. Like it belonged there.
I hoped if it was a dream, I didn't wake up for a long time.
#
HUTCH
Working at Huggy's was going well. The pay wasn't much, though, and I felt too clumsy for the job sometimes, always afraid I'd drop something at the busiest times. So far Huggy said I was doing okay, but I told him I'd probably be looking for other work soon, and he should go ahead and hire somebody else when he could.
He just looked at me, and then mentioned that maybe he and the Turkey would be needing some help with their detective business, and would I give it a think? I stammered out some reply and went away reeling inwardly. Huggy would trust me like that? Trust me to help maintain and build his detective business? What an exciting thought!
When I got my first paycheck, I bought the biggest potted palm tree I could find. It was wasteful, and I knew it, but I couldn't resist. It made Starsky's place feel more like home.
His eyebrows rose dramatically when he first saw it. But he didn't say a word. He helped me find a place for it in front of a window, and while I watered it, he stuck his face carefully amongst the fronds and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Starsky had already bought me a nice bed and made room for it. It was in the living room, against a wall. It could double as an extra couch if he had a party. He told me it wasn't very expensive, but he was a bad liar.
He still had that tight look around his eyes sometimes, a wary look. Like he didn't quite trust anyone or anything. But I was seeing less and less of it.
And I learned that when he was quiet and diffident, even gruff, it didn't mean he didn't want anything to do with me. It meant he wasn't feeling confident.
We didn't always have the easy camaraderie me and my Starsky had. After all, that took years to learn and earn.
Sometimes I still felt guilty about leaving. I hoped Dobey wasn't worried about me. I still wondered how I'd arrived here. Did it seem like I died, back home? Or did I just disappear? Was there a Missing Person out on me?
I didn't want Dobey and Huggy to worry, but I didn't know how to get a message home.
Sometimes I missed my Starsky so much I had to cry. I tried not to let on I was sad around my new friend. I think sometimes he knew, anyway. He got real quiet, like he guessed. Like he thought he wasn't good enough to bother with after all.
But he is. This quieter, less trusting, less playful man is still Starsky. And I love him.
It would take time, to work it all out. But I knew we would. Because, when it came down to it, this was Starsky.
#
STARSKY
One night, I had a dream.
There was a guy who looked like me, but wasn't. He had brighter eyes, more of a bounce in his step—cocky, confident, happy.
And he had three bullet holes in his leather jacket. I had one kinda like that. Now I realized why Hutch got that pained look on his face every time I wore it. Right then and there, I decided to give it away. A jacket doesn't mean much, compared to a Hutch.
The other Starsky crossed his arms and looked at me. Then he grinned. "Hey. Look after my Hutch for me, okay? Tell him I love him, and I'm waiting for him, but there's no hurry."
I felt myself nodding. Even in the dream, I wanted to cry.
"Hey. You take good care of him," said my double, pointing at me. "I wanted you to. That's why I sent him. And tell him not to worry about Dobey and Huggy. Everybody's gonna be okay."
When I woke up, it was still dark out. I walked into the next room and shook Hutch awake right away. He looked so peaceful sleeping, but I knew he'd want to hear this. It wasn't quite dawn.
His side felt warm and sturdy under my hand. He looked younger asleep, not so thoughtful, worried, or sad. "Hutch." I gave him a shake, and he shifted and turned, stretching and squinting up at me, a question in his blue gaze. And complete trust.
"Move over." I nudged him a little and he moved. I sat down on the edge of the bed, beside him.
And I told him all of it. His eyes got huge—then bright with happiness and unshed tears. His big smile cracked and wobbled.
"Thank you, S-Starsky," he said, almost formally. He got up, and raked a hand back through his hair. "Ex-excuse me. I need to—to take my run." He left the house without changing out of his pajama trousers, barely remembering to put on shoes.
I wanted to follow him, but I forced myself not to. He needed to grieve, alone.
So I waited for him. And I made coffee and got out the goat's milk for his morning shake.
When he came back, he wrapped me in a hug so tight I almost couldn't breathe. And I hugged him back just as hard, and released the breath I hadn't known I was holding.
#
HUTCH
I thought of Starsky's dream often. I don't know why I didn't have one of my own, why Starsky couldn't reach me in dreams. But all the same, I hugged the knowledge of it close, a great comfort. The three bullet holes proved it to me: I'd never told anyone in this world those details. It still hurt too badly to talk about much.
Shortly after that, Starsky's jacket that looked the same disappeared. I didn't know how to thank him—except by letting him eat salami for breakfast without making faces and scolding him.
Our friendship seemed to deepen every day, as we got to know each other better and learned to trust each other more. It was a different sort of trust than being partners, having to put your lives in each other's hands every day. But it was also somehow the same.
I think he started to smile more. I know I did. Something as simple as going to Huggy's for French fries seemed infinitely precious to me these days: as did every moment I lived with him in my life.
It surprised me, but I found out I could feel happy to be alive.
Sometimes I got the feeling he was careful with me, like I was fragile and breakable. Well, maybe I was. But I was getting better every day. I could wake up now and see the sun shining bright and think of the future, instead of just being blindsided by grief and guilt.
The dream helped, too. Knowing Starsky didn't blame me. I suppose I'd always known. But now I knew above a shadow of nightmare-doubt.
And one day I had to break down and tell my new buddy something. Or rather, ask him something.
"Starsky, I—I know this might b-be hard to talk about, but I have to ask you." He looked really worried, like I was going to lay something heavy and awful on him. But I had to ask. I put my hands on his arms. "Can you tell me about… Terri? In this world?"
He blinked at me, face going completely blank.
I released him. "I'm sorry, Starsk. I'm sorry. If you can't stand to talk about her…"
"No, that's not it. Who's Terri?"
I felt my eyes opening wider. Could it…? I scrambled for the phone. "Uh, 'scuse me, Starsky. I've got to call Huggy and the Turkey. I'm not gonna say anything more until I do."
For once, Starsky abandoned his silent, watchful dignity. "Hutch!" he protested. "Tell me now!" He caught at my sleeve, and I heard a ripping sound.
"Starsky!"
"Tell me!" he protested. And damned if he didn't turn a perfect Starsky pout on me!
I took a deep, shaky breath. "She was a woman you loved. If she's in this world, and not married, I'd really love you to meet her."
Cautious-Starsky returned. He released my sleeve. "I don't know if I'm ready to meet anybody. It's been a bad year for me, girlfriend-wise, Hutch. Don't get your hopes up, okay?"
I put the phone down, turned, and caught him by the shoulders. "Starsk, my hopes are always up for you! But yeah, I won't push you into anything. I'm—I'm just so glad there might be a chance…" I started to feel choked up.
"C'mere, you big lug." Starsky pulled me into a hug. "Hopes indeed! Shut up and put your arms round me."
I did.
We held on tight, for a long time.
Then my buddy Starsky told me we should try checking the phone book first of all, and why hadn't I thought of that myself? Wasn't I supposed to be a detective?
My finger ran down the lines till I found Terri's number. I dialed it, hands shaking a little.
Starsky sat beside me on the couch. He reached over, and I reached over. My free hand and one of his meshed as we waited to find out, me with my heart in my throat for Starsky, and him just trusting me. Like always.