"Blue, songs are like tattoos, you know I've been to sea before….."
Starsky sat cross-legged on the hood of the Torino and stared at the ocean.
The waves were rolling onto the sand and as each one receded the area of wet sand increased; the tide was going out. Starsky had to decide what he wanted to do.
He shifted his weight and fished into the pocket of his jacket; the music from his car wafted on the warm evening air. He liked this album – but he would probably never even admit to Hutch that he owned it. Let Hutch think he preferred Fats Domino and rock and roll if he wanted to.
Starsky hadn't really been to sea. Not unless you count that crazy cruise that nearly ended in disaster. Zack and Hack! He shook his head; Zack and Hack? People fell for that? He found what he was searching for in his pocket and smiled.
"…crown and anchor me, or let me sail away"
If only it was that easy. Just break away from everything that anchored him to this place; his job, his friends.
A sailboat appeared on the horizon. Starsky pulled his hand from his pocket.
"Hey Blue, here is a song for you to ink on a pin, underneath the skin, an empty place to fill in."
Starsky had never wanted a tattoo. He'd seen plenty of tattoos. Not just hearts and anchors, but numbers on men's arms. The survivors who had managed to make a new life in New York.
But the empty places were there waiting to be filled. Empty places where love waited; and where love had been taken away. Hutch filled that empty place some of the time. He was always there when Starsky needed him; but not now. Starsky had to decide what he wanted to do about Hutch's absence.
"Well there's so many sinking now you got to keep thinking you can make it through these days…"
Easy enough to say – but not so easy to do!
"Acid, booze and ass; needles, guns and grass; lots of laughs….lots of laughs."
He concentrated what he was doing. Grass had been the solution when things weren't easy to deal with. Boredom and fear gave way to intense pain and the grass was there. He never tried anything else. "I left that to Blondie", he muttered as he put the final touches to the joint and licked the edges of the paper to seal it.
Hutch had found out about drugs the hard way. Hard drugs forced into his veins until he was a helpless junkie. He'd fought it off as best he could but Starsky knew that it was a battle he would have to fight all his life. He had stood by helpless when he was shown the proof that Hutch had lost the battle.
"Lots of laughs!"
He flipped the Zippo and stared at the flame for a moment before raising it to the joint. He engraved it himself; painstakingly dragging the point of a broken razor blade across the surface until it looked the way he wanted it to. For a moment the flame reminded him of the napalm and he flinched.
He lit the joint and drew the sweet smoke into his lungs. He closed his eyes and listened to the waves on the beach. He slid off the hood of the car and walked along the strand where water met dry land. He stooped and picked up a shell.
"Hey Blue, here is a shell for you. Inside you'll hear a sigh; a foggy lullaby."
He threw the shell into the sea, watching it skim along the surface the way his badge had done the day he and Hutch decided to quit the force.
They had made that decision together; this time Hutch had made his decision alone and now Starsky was left to make his.
"Here is your song from me."
Starsky drew the last of the joint into his lungs and made his decision. He turned and walked into the waves. Somewhere Hutch was waiting for him.
("Blue". Words and Music by Joni Mitchell. Quoted without permission and with no intention to infringe copyright.)