"This is going to be the best day ever!" Starsky exploded. The energy threatening to burst from his body was greater than most of the ten kids they were surrounded by, put together.

Hutch glanced at his partner, rolled his eyes, then finished passing out the tickets to eager 10- and 11-year-old hands. Right when he ran out of tickets another hand appeared, much bigger than the rest and Hutch slapped it. "We get in free, dummy."

"Come on, Hutch...it's a baseball game! It's peanuts and cracker jacks and hot dogs and...singing songs and dancing in the stands and cheering for your favorite pitcher...pure Americana!"

Hutch scanned the group of children still waiting in the crowd that milled on the concrete platform outside the stadium. Scalpers were hedging their way closer to desperate looking parents. There were probably a handful of pick pockets roaming through the bustle and a hundred other possible opportunists waiting for the perfect mark. The bouncing, over excited 39-year-old little kid, yelling about pure Americana and processed mystery meat wedged into pig skin was a distraction he couldn't use at the moment.

This might have been Starsky's idea of a great way to spend the day, but not Hutch.

"Starsky, the game is boring. One long inning after another. The guys run in circles to make points. You could get the same thrill on a carousel ride. Anybody can play baseball, that's why it's America's favorite pastime."

The look Starsky was giving him threatened a blow up. His partner was stunned and angry, and about to blow a gasket, but the crowd moved and the doors opened, giving Hutch a five to ten minute break. Thousands of retired cops, firemen, librarians and off-duty service men, plus even more kids flooded into the stadium for a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was Public Service Appreciation Day and the stadium would be theirs from 8am to 9pm.

For the morning hours fans of the two double-A teams facing off that day, could talk with the players, practice pitching or swinging with real, professional coaches, get their pictures taken sliding into home base or a dozen other activities that sounded great to fans of the game, or the teams.

Hutch had called it mind-numbing torture. After spending hours getting sunburned and itchy they would then be invited to a giant picnic lunch in the stands and the baseball game would begin.

With as many hard working civil servants in the stands as Hutch suspected there would be, his only hope was that adult beverages would be sold at some point in the evening. He didn't plan to get drunk, not while chaperoning 10 kids from the Big Brother's organization, but something to knock the edge off would be nice. Or maybe something to knock the over exuberant Starsky out for a while.

"We used to go to baseball games all the time when I was kid. Aunt Rosie loved baseball. She was a bigger fan than anybody else in my family." Starsky expounded, then laughed. "Literally. I mean...Aunt Rosie, she was a female Babe Ruth...you know."

Hutch wasn't paying attention, intentionally, and Starsky kept tapping his arm until he responded. He tried a half-hearted smile and the tapping went away. Hutch counted heads, familiar with only four out of the ten boys. Kiko was with them on this trip, even though he was too old for the program. Technically he was a junior chaperone, but Hutch had the feeling Kiko was just as excited about the opportunity as the rest.

Once they were through the doors the kids gathered around the two and a half adults, jittering with excitement at all the commotion around them. Hutch handed out the event cards, reading off some of the experiences listed, driving their energy levels higher and higher.

"Are we supposed to leave the stadium before noon?" Hutch asked finally, making sure his voice was loud enough for the kids to hear.

"No!" Some of them chorused.

"Are we supposed to meet at our seats at 2pm?"

It was a trick question and he got a lot of confused glances before his partner prompted, "No."

"When do we meet at our seats?"

"Noon." Distracted voices called back.

"Alright, go have fun! Stay with your partner." Hutch shouted, and the boys scattered like mice, breaking into groups of two or four. Kiko was among them, haranguing a group of the older boys with his own unique style. He'd turned into quite the kid, Hutch thought smirking, then glanced around for his own partner.

He hadn't gone far. Starsky had found a vendor selling coffee and, of course, donuts, and had purchased one of each item for the both of them. The animated conversation he was having with the lady behind the counter had her blushing and grinning and Starsky's over-confident saunter kicked into being when he finally broke away.

"You get her number?" Hutch asked, taking the offered cup of coffee but passing on the donut.

"Who? Oh...Lily? Nah, she's married."

"Couldn't tell to look at her." Hutch said, smirking as his partner's eyebrows bounced. They sipped the heads off the cups of coffee then started along the circular promenade echoing with excited shouts and screeches. There were children and adults everywhere, many of them vaguely familiar. Before long they'd met up with a dozen fellow officers from other precincts, a few firemen they knew, more than a dozen legal secretaries out with their children or husbands and at least one very familiar librarian.

Dorice was delighted to see Hutch and very shyly gave him a hug before she blushed and scurried away, her own passel of kids to look after.

"Heart breaker." Starsky had accused, grinning broadly.

They'd completed the full circle of the promenade at least once before Starsky started to get antsy, peering into the stadium through the rectangular archways that popped up every thirty feet. Hutch's plan had involved avoiding the activities and keeping an eye on the perimeter in case any of the ten, admittedly mischievous boys, decided to take off. He was content letting the noise and the bustle flow around him, invested in maintaining his reputation with the Big Brother's organization as a trustworthy chaperone.

Starsky was there for the baseball and to be an extra set of eyes. Hutch could feel the pull the bright shell of green had for his partner, but he knew the brunet would stick by his side. And get more antsy and annoying as the day stretched on.

"Maybe you could keep an eye on the guys from the field." Hutch suggested casually.

"We could both...you know, go out there. Be easier to keep track of 'em all."

"I like it out here, Starsk. You go ahead." Hutch said.

"You sure...I mean...it's gonna be boring out here." Starsky said, already putting a little distance between them, drawing closer to one of the archways.

"I'm a boring kinda guy." Hutch muttered into the last of his coffee. When he looked back up he was surprised to see Starsky still there giving him a look of contemplation. "I'll be fine, buddy."

"I'll...keep an eye on the kids." Starsky said, throwing his pointer finger over his shoulder before he turned and disappeared down the short, dark tunnel.

Hutch watched him go and thought about the last time he'd willingly walked into a baseball stadium. It hadn't been from the spectator entrances, and he hadn't spent any time in the promenade. He'd spent a lot of time out on the field, and even more time down in the bullpen and the locker room and walking through the bowels of the complex, waiting.

Waiting for the one thing that mattered to him at the time to be decided. Knowing that one decision was going to rocket him toward a kind of fame, or send him in a completely opposite life direction. And it wasn't his decision to make either.

He'd never fully figured out where he'd gone wrong. His parents had said he was burning the candle at both ends and needed to focus on his studies. Hutch had known that medicine wasn't the end all for him. What he'd wanted the most...what he'd worked the summer and fall for...was taken from him the spring of his sophomore year.

Then he'd left school, headed west, found his way from job to job until a recruiter suggested he join the police academy. Then...then he'd turned into the police detective he was that day, pacing around a baseball stadium the way a fallen believer avoided the sanctuary in a cathedral.

Almost a half hour had passed before Starsky was back. This time he had a bag of peanuts that he was munching from, the coffee cup discarded. Hutch still had a centimeter of cold, black brew left in his cup. They walked silently around the promenade together, until Hutch had stopped at a trash can to throw his cup away, and Starsky his empty peanut bag.

Hutch was about to start off another round of meandering when Starsky put his finger on the spot just under the moon shaped necklace Hutch wore. Hutch glanced down, expecting to find a smudge of food.

"What's goin' on with you?" Starsky asked, still working on the last of the peanuts that he'd shoved into his mouth. "Huh? Somebody spoil your soy, goat milk, spinach extract shake this morning?"

Hutch shrugged, smirking a little at the mush Starsky always assumed he ate. The truth was the coffee he'd just finished had been the only thing he'd eaten that morning. He was hungry, under the wierd jolts of nostalgia and fear. It was like being a recovered junky and watching someone shoot up, knowing it was bad for you, but unable to fight that need.

It was a parallel he shouldn't have thought of, in the end, based on the response it got from his partner. Starsky tilted his head and his brows creased, sincere concern in his eyes for how pale Hutch had just turned.

"You feelin' alright?"

Hutch took a deep breath, looked over his partner's shoulder at the bright swath of sunlight bathing a kelly green field and said, "I'm fine. Let's go check on the kids."

The turnaround was instant, and while the outcome was what Starsky had wanted, his brother with him potentially enjoying the day, it had happened too quickly. Starsky hung back a step or two, watching Hutch until the blond glanced back at him. They stepped into the sun together, descending the mostly empty stands and heading out onto the crowded outfield.

They found most of the boys in very short order, gathered around one of the pitching coaches, each getting a chance to pitch the ball at a target. Kiko spotted them instantly and waved them over, eventually working Starsky into the line of boys waiting to throw the ball. Kiko tried to push Hutch into joining Starsky but the blond refused, smiling and shaking his head, but obstinate about not jumping into the line.

Kiko shrugged, not used to his long time mentor being so reluctant, but willing to give Hutch his space. The spectacle of a right handed pitching coach trying to force the left-handed Starsky to pitch with his off-dominant hand was enough of a distraction that Kiko was soon focused on other things.

Hutch was trying to back away from the group when he nearly stepped on the toe of one of the costumed mascots. He heard a high pitched yelp then felt something hard but cloth covered thump into his back and jumped, whirling around. A five-foot-even felt chicken was glaring at him, holding one foot and emitting more swear words than a chicken should've known.

Especially one that sounded so young, and so feminine. "Will you watch where you're goin', pally! I gotta wear this thing whether you see me in it or not."

For some reason the voice, or the words, or just the fact of the strangely designed chicken head, made Hutch laugh. He put his arms out to stabilize the chicken, apologizing and laughing at the same time. "Did I hurt ya?"

"Only my pride, thanks a lot for laughin'." The chicken groused, still limping a little. "You mind telling me what's so funny!?"

"Well...you are, but isn't that the point?"

"From the stands maybe, but not right up in person. Jerk." The chicken protested, ripping its wing out of Hutch's hand and stomping away.

Hutch winced, and watched the mascot making sure she made it to wherever she was going without meeting further insult or injury, then felt a familiar tap to his arm. There was more to see and do, and Hutch let Starsky drag him around for another thirty minutes before he noticed one of the boys lagging.

Hutch thought his name might have been Jimmy. He broke away from the group and stood by Jimmy, watching the others get their photo's taken with the top hitters from each of the teams. They stood in silence for a bit, set apart from the crowd, before Jimmy said, "It's real dumb, ain't it?"

"What? Getting your picture taken?"

"Yeah. I mean. What's a pi'ture gonna do? So what if those guys make it to the big leagues someday. Who cares if you took a pi'ture with 'em when you were a little kid? A pi'ture don't talk to ya. A pi'ture don't have memories."

Hutch would have been the first to admit that he didn't know the histories of the boys he'd agreed to chaperone. However, most of them were in the Big Brother program because they didn't have male leadership in their lives. It was easy to assume that a picture meant so little to Jimmy because that was all he had of his father.

Most of those boys were likely to take their pictures to show-and-tell some school day and brag about the day they'd had. But Jimmy had seen beyond that. He was desperate to make attachments that mattered, and not friendships that ended where his relationship with his father had. In a tin frame. Hutch could relate to a degree, a photo was nice, but not the point of a lifetime experience.

"What if you and I got a picture with them together? I mean...I'll still be around, after today is over. We can show it to people together."

Jimmy's head came up, his face showing a self-awareness beyond his years, but Hutch could see hope in his eyes. "And you know if we include Starsky he'll probably do something goofy. It'll be a funny photo then, huh?"

Jimmy's thin lips curled up in the beginnings of a smile and Hutch knew he had him. It took half a minute to explain to Starsky and the two players posing for photos, and the picture they took was the goofiest the photographer saw all day. It had the round of boys laughing and shrieking and Jimmy proudly gave the photographer his name so that he could get the photo later in the day.

The tightness in Hutch's chest, the pressure of warped memories closing in on him, had eased with the burst of silliness, and Starsky relaxed a little, figuring that had been all his partner needed. Hutch was still subdued through the morning, but participated more readily, especially if Jimmy was looking hesitant. By the time lunch was served in the stands the hot sun and the morning full of activity had worn the boys down and they lounged tiredly against the plastic seats, lackadaisically munching on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chips.

Hutch glanced at his partner when he heard the contented sigh for the second time and smirked. "You know...you join up with Big Brothers, you can do this sort of thing all the time."

"Goof around with kids all day long? And let you run around being gloomy, unsupervised? No way. Too risky." Starsky said, shaking his head.

"I'm not gloomy."

"You are gloomy-"

"I'm not-"

"You got a cloud, right there near that vein that just popped out." Starsky smirked and Hutch rolled his eyes, unable to fight the smile.

"It's...bringin' back memories. That's all."

"Oh." Starsky said, then it hit him, and his eyes widened. "Ohh!" He said then slapped a hand down on Hutch's back and squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry about that buddy."

"It's ok."

"Forgot about that." Starsky said, his voice a little quieter, focused on the sandwich that he'd begun to lose interest in. "Why'd you agree to come on this trip?"

Hutch shrugged, watching the boys. At least two of them had managed to fall asleep in the stadium seats. Three were gathered around Kiko trading stories, and expounding on events that had happened less than two hours ago. Jimmy was keeping another boy in stitches with a goofy replay of the day and the other three were exchanging the baseball cards they'd brought with them. Kids being kids.

"These are the kids we might be arresting somewhere down the line." Hutch said quietly, knowing statistically that he was right, but hoping optimistically that he was wrong. "I get to know them now…"

Starsky nodded, knowing where his partner was going. It was the reason Hutch had volunteered for the program in the very beginning, and kept up with it for so long. To stop the kids who were still, well, incubating, from becoming bad eggs. By showing them cops that cared.

Preventive policing.

"Shame you can't tell 'em…" Starsky said after a moment. "I mean...they would'a got a thrill outta seein' you pitch a few."

Hutch studied his partner for a moment then shook his head. "It's the past. I'd rather it stay that way. Hey listen, I'm gonna take care of this trash and maybe...go find some aspirin. I'll be right back."

"You got a headache?"

"Too much sun." Hutch said, collecting the crumbled paper bags that the boys had strewn everywhere, before he headed up the concrete flight of stairs and into the cool darkness of the promenade. The farther he got from that wide open space, buzzing with energy, the better he felt.

Maybe it was the sun, or the noise that made him itchy and uneasy. Maybe he just needed a few minutes to himself, a few minutes to recoup before he went back in.

"It's a baseball stadium, Hutch, not a torture chamber." He told himself, stuffing paper bags into an already overstuffed trash can. Hutch scanned the mill of adults and kids, all moving with the hazy slowness of a morning spent in the steady heat, then wove his way through the crowd and bought a few packs of bubble gum from a vendor, 13 Cokes and a small packet of aspirin.

The boys had behaved admirably after all, and they deserved a treat, Hutch told himself. He was standing at the counter trying to devise a way to carry all 13 bottles when the vendor produced the cardboard carriers the bottles had come from. They'd been sitting in ice all day, so the cardboard would only last as long as it was dry, but Hutch was certain he could get back to the boys in time. He shoved the gum and the small bottle of aspirin in his jeans' pocket and started back toward the stands but a tap on the arm stopped him.

"Hey...uh." The chicken said, sounding nervous. "Can I help you carry those?"

"Um…" Hutch's brow creased and he glanced toward the archway then said, "No, I...I think I got it. Besides I don't know that you should be climbing those stairs in that...outfit. Can you see outta that thing?"

The cloth wing was still pressed against his arm and he could feel the dig of slender fingers pressing into his arm. Whoever was behind the chicken head wasn't going to let go easy.

"Yeah, yeah….I mean...I mean, no. Probably not, but I can carry something else. Or...I can just follow you maybe."

Hutch scanned the crowd around them, looking for eyes trained unnecessarily on the little mascot. "What happens if I step on you again?" He asked.

Most of the people around them were talking, shuffling from one destination to the next, trying to navigate and focused on each other. Only a handful of people were standing still and most of them were stadium security.

"You won't!" The chicken said confidently, then cast a glance over her shoulder. The act couldn't have been subtle if her life depended on it, but she did it quickly enough, Hutch was confident she'd worn the costume before. If she wasn't nervous because she wasn't supposed to be wearing the costume, he didn't want to know.

"Uh...look, no offense but...if you're...I mean...if something's going on, there's security guys all over here. I'm kinda preoccupied at the moment."

"I'll say…" The chicken said, and the tone of voice struck Hutch as extremely familiar. He could also feel the cold condensation on the bottles seeping through the cardboard and knew he was running out of time if he planned on getting all the bottles to their destination intact.

"You see those guys over there, in the white shirts with the badges. Those are the guys you need to talk to. I'm...here to watch a baseball game." Hutch said, then shifted the boxes of Cola in his arms and started toward the archway.

He'd made it down the first flight of stairs before Starsky had glanced up from their seats near the third base line. The brunet had jumped from the seats and was trotting up the stairs, when Hutch recognized the felt-tipped wing jabbing him in the back again.

Hutch shook his head and kept descending, feeling the bottom of the boxes soaking away. "Look, kid, those officers are perfectly capable of handling your situation...besides the game's gonna start in an hour, don't you need to...pep up the team or something?"

"There isn't gonna be a team, or an audience, or a game!" The chicken squeaked, barely keeping up with him. The cloth head was flopping as she descended the stairs, clinging to the rails. He heard a frustrated grunt and turned to see the mascot finally rip the cloth head off, fed up with the inconvenience of it.

Starsky's focus had been going between his partner and the tag-along chicken and Hutch caught a look of surprised recognition on his partner's face before Starsky squeaked, "Molly!?"

Then all hell broke loose.

Multiple explosions ripped through the stadium, emanating from the promenade and blowing debris out into the stands through the archways. The heat, the air and the roar caught Hutch, Molly and Starsky and threw them tumbling down the steps and into harsh landings against the seats.

Before he landed ribs first against the back of a stadium chair Starsky remembered seeing the billows of smoke shooting out of each of the archways spaced around the stadium, followed by a rush of people running for safety...into the stadium and not out of it.

Then the chair knocked the breath out of him and he blacked out shortly thereafter.

When he woke again his throat was on fire, the right side of his chest throbbed like he'd run five miles in ten seconds without taking a decent breath, and his head was pulsing. The noise around him slowly bled in past his heart beat. Screams, shouts, the general rush of humanity in full panic mode.

Starsky lifted a hand, stared at the fine white powder that coated it, then latched his fingers onto the back of the seat he'd slumped behind. He made it part of the way upright before the pain visited him with nausea and a wave of breathless darkness, that he had to fight his way back out of.

His eyes were closed, his thoughts focused on breathing without pain when a warm palm brushed against the side of his face, moved back to cradle the back of his head and he faintly heard Hutch's voice. Starsky's hands quickly found the cotton of Hutch's shirt and he groaned, "Help me up.", then held on for the ride.

They sat down together a minute later in the first two seats they could find, at least one flight closer to the field, away from the fires still burning in the promenade. Starsky forced running eyes open, counted the heads of ten boys, plus Kiko several flights below them, then looked to the blond still clinging to him. There was blood on the side of his head, cutting through the white film of dust. Hutch must have gone face first into something because his nose was bloodied and swelling.

Starsky loosened his grip and pushed himself up in the chair, taking the pressure off of bruised...no cracked...possibly broken ribs. Then he looked for the chicken.

"Where's Molly?"

"Molly?" Hutch asked, eyes watering from the pain in his face.

"The chicken. Molly...Pete." Starsky said, waiting for Hutch to get it.

The blond panted for another second or two before it sunk in and he twisted around to stare back up at the mess above them. They both caught sight of the bright yellow chicken body sprawled across the steps. The flood of survivors from the promenade was dwindling, but none of the panicked people were interested in stopping long enough to help the brightly colored mascot.

Starsky started to rise then settled back when a jolt of pain, and his partner's hand forced him to sit still. "I got 'er. Stay here with the kids." Hutch said, then groaned softly and pushed to his feet, climbing over the back of his seat and limping out into the aisle.

He maintained his balance for about two seconds before the first wave of dizziness hit.