"Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. For nothing gold can stay." - Robert Frost
Gold
The first time he sees the color of Hutch's hair he's sitting at his desk, feet propped up on a stack of papers. The man who enters is tall, ill at ease. But all Starsky notices is the halo of gold hair framing the pale face, and he grins despite himself at the image of an angel in a police station. It isn't until later on that he learns the angel is his new partner.
The second time he sees his partner's hair Hutch is crumpled in a filthy alleyway, eyes glowing bright and wild with a lack of recognition. For an instant blind rage slams down on him, hatred for whoever did this to his partner. He touches the bruised cheek, a strand of limp gold. Hutch groans and slumps forward, clinging to him as sobs and shivers rack his too-thin form. And Starsky doesn't let go.
The third time he sees that gold hair he's lying on the floor of a restaurant with a bullet in his shoulder, vision swimming in and out, pain rushing over him like a waterfall. He can't seem to remember what's happened and he's scared when a face looms over him, a soft and familiar voice speaks. The gold wavers in his eyes but it's comforting. Hutch is here and it's going to be okay.
The fourth time he sees that gold it's shimmering in his fading gaze, glowing in the darkness of the roof. Hutch is out there, risking his life to get the information to save Starsky from the poison slowly eating him alive. But he can't live if Hutch is dead, for that would be a crueler poison, a slower death. He steadies the gun on the other man's back and pulls the trigger.
The fifth time he sees the color of his partner's hair he's sliding down a hillside, begging under his breath between his calls for Hutch to be alive. He sees the hair first, matted with blood, streaked with dirt, but still gold in the color of the sun as he falls down beside the almost motionless form. It isn't until he takes Hutch's head between his hands that he realizes he's trembling.
The sixth time he sees those gold strands they're plastered against Hutch's forehead looking faded and as frail as his best friend's body. He's dying from the disease running though him but Starsky won't give up, won't let him go. He holds his hand until they make him leave, and then stands before the glass, begging him to hold on, just a little longer. When Hutch is finally strong enough to open his eyes again, to look at Starsky there's a faint reflection of gold in those blue eyes.
The next time he thinks of that gold he's lost somewhere within a world the color of his best friend's hair, oddly weak and alone. He hears garbled voices, frantic beeping in the background, feels a jolt as something runs through him. He realizes he's dying, and it doesn't hurt as badly as he thought it would. Somewhere within the gold he hears Hutch's heart pounding as if beating for both of them. The pulse is frantic, frightened. Hutch is somewhere close, trying to get to him. He can sense it. The jolt runs through his still heart as he feels Hutch burst in. And he answers.
The last time he sees Hutch's hair it's cut shorter, mustache shaved off taking years away from the lined face. There's a real smile there, one he hasn't seen in so long, an ear to ear grin like Hutch used to wear when they were so much younger. It's the day of his release from the hospital and Hutch supports him as he walks out into the parking lot. He takes a breath of air into his lungs, whole and healed, and is grateful for life. He turns to his best friend and sees the sun has caught the color of Hutch's hair, spinning it into the fine gold he remembers from so long ago, as if nothing has changed. Then Hutch turns to look at him, and the gold lingers in his smile.