Note: This is the first fan fiction I've ever written.
Dedication: To all my friends at the WeloveStarskyandHutch website. Without their encouragement and feedback, this story would never have been written and certainly not posted.
Disclaimer: The characters of Starsky & Hutch do not belong to me. This story is written for enjoyment only. No profit is being made from this story.
All original characters and story line are owned by me. (© September 2005). No redistribution may be made of any of this story without the express consent of the author.
Category: Some Hutch Angst but mostly Starsky Angst.
All feedback welcomed.
CHAPTER 1
Hutch honked the horn of his brand new 1996 Nissan Maxima, for the fourth time. He would defy Starsky to call this one a lemon or to voice just one complaint. He'd finally found a car to shut Starsky's mouth for good. This one featured a V6 engine, 190-horse power, anti lock breaks, power steering, driver and passenger front airbags, stereo cassette player with AM/FM radio, cruise control, and even cup holders.
He honked again, but there was still no response. The lights were on, so he knew they were home. This could only mean one thing. Joan must be having another bad day. Starsky's wife was diagnosed with kidney disease a year prior and everyday since then was a new experience—recently one of pain. He grabbed the box of donuts he brought, jumped out of the car and quickly made his way to the front door.
Starsky yelled down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell. "Hey, Doc. Rachel, answer the door." The bell rang again. "Come on guys."
Hutch was just about to use his key when the door was opened by Starsky's eight-year-old daughter, Rachel. It never failed to amaze him just how much like Starsky the child looked. The blue eyes were bright and inquisitive, just like her fathers always were. Unlike Starsky though, her brown curly hair draped down her back.
Rachel smiled, that Starsky smile. "Come on in Uncle Ken."
He patted her head and looked around for any sign of her parents. "Hi baby. Where are mommy and daddy?"
"They're throwin up," she answered.
"Oh…uh…" Hutch responded.
"That makes two days in a row." Rachel sat on the stairs and put her head in her hands.
Hutch smirked. How many times had he seen Starsky pout the same way? He sat next to her and held her close. "Hey, why don't we do something constructive? Have you had your breakfast?"
"What do you think ma's been throwing up?"
"Oh…yeah." He looked around the living room and only now realized that the floor was decorated with toy cars, trains, army men and a menagerie of other toys. "How about we clean up for mommy and daddy?"
No sooner had he said this, than Starsky came barreling down the stairs. His wide grin couldn't hide the bags under his eyes or the fact that he wore the same clothes that Hutch saw him in last night. Slept in them huh pal? Hutch returned the smile and put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Hey buddy."
Starsky noticed the box of donuts Hutch held. "If there's not an extra kidney in there, we don't want any."
"Bad night?"
"Bad year."
Not wanting to turn this scene into a soap opera, Starsky switched gears. "Hey, I'll take my car in. Running a little late, ya know?"
"Yeah."
Starsky's thirteen-year-old son, Michael came down the stairs. He favored his mother's
dark complexion, but still had that curly hair, which was a lighter shade of brown.
Everybody called him Doc because as early as three years old, that's all he's ever wanted to be. Now that his mother was sick, he spent a lot of his time by her side--almost too much, Starsky thought. Although he was very proud of his son for wanting to tend to his mother's needs, he was concerned that the boy's childhood was slipping through his fingers. He fought to make sure he gave Michael every opportunity to remain young for as long as he could.
"Hi Uncle Ken," Michael said.
"Hi Doc."
Michael turned his attention to his father.
"Hey dad maybe I should stay with Ma today."
"That's okay. Aunt Joyce will be here soon."
"But dad…"
"Hit the road kid," Starsky said, in his best Bogart voice.
Michael stood firm thinking for a minute and then headed for the door. "Okay, but I'll be home right after." With that said, he left for school.
Starsky sighed and stepped into the living room. After a few seconds, he noticed that he was knee-deep in toys. "Rachel Miriam Starsky!"
Rachel peeked out from behind Hutch with a sheepish grin. "Yes, daddy."
"What did I tell you about these toys?"
"Put them back in your playroom?"
"That's right."
Hutch giggled. "Starsk, when are you going to get this child her own toys?"
"She's got perfectly nice toys." He playfully glared at Rachel. "In her own room."
"Daddy, they're not as good as yours."
"Yeah well, that's cause your mommy doesn't have as good a taste as I do."
With that, both Starsky and Rachel laughed. Starsky picked up his daughter and gave her a great bear hug.
"Daddy, can we go for a ride?"
"Not now sweetie. Daddy's late and Aunt Joyce is gonna come and pick you up soon."
He looked at her sternly. "Now seriously, put these toys back, okay?"
"Okie, Dokie."
He put her down and gave her a soft pat. "That a girl." She scurried off and he turned his attention to Hutch. "I'll be there in one hour?"
"Sounds good. Give Joan my love," Hutch replied.
"Will do. Oh and Hutch? He waited until Hutch turned back around and he had his complete attention, then he smirked. "It's gray."
"Huh?"
"The car."
Hutch slumped his shoulders in mock defeat and walked towards the door mumbling to himself.
Starsky grinned. "Speak louder. Maybe you'll convince yourself."
Hutch put up the dreaded finger and pointed at Starsky. He started to berate him, but thought better of it. Starsk was smiling and that smile was worth taking a ribbing for.
"Yeah, it's gray. What was I thinking?" He winked at Starsky and left the house.
Starsky looked over at his daughter, who now carried an arm full of toys and was heading towards the playroom. He mused about being eight again, but was brought back to the present at Joan's call.
"Yeah baby, comin." He bounded up the stairs--back to reality.