Recovered
By TLR
Plot: Starsky and Hutch take a road trip.
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Hutch walked into the squad room with a pressing look on his face, but when he looked toward the desk he shared with his partner, he stopped short, his next word small but full of soft wonder:
"Starsk?"
Starsky stood up and held his arms out. "Mornin'."
Curious officers looked on.
Hutch's face went from serious to smile as he walked over and gave him a brief hug, but not too tight as he had been accustomed to handling Starsky's body with kid gloves during his recovery from James Gunther's hit. Starsky's hug, however, was tight and earnest.
"Guess you decided to come back after all, huh?"
"Surprise," Starsky said with a wink. "Can't have all those big brains without the not-too-inconsiderable brawn."
Hutch turned slightly and rubbed the heels of his hands into his wet eyes.
"I'm a week early," Starsky said as he picked up a new notebook and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"For writing songs, or poems, or whatever comes into that blond head of yours." Starsky picked up his camera bag. "Let's go."
"What? Where?"
"California road trip," Starsky said. "Vacation."
"Vacation? Are you crazy? We have cases to-"
"Dobey cleared us. They can wait one more week."
Hutch looked around almost dazed as Starsky took his arm and steered him toward the squad room door, ushered out by applause and whistles from some of their fellow officers.
::
As Starsky led the way across the police parking garage, Hutch noticed that his partner wasn't at all looking at the location of the shooting, while he himself couldn't take his eyes off of it. He could swear he could still see faint bloodstains, even though he knew that was impossible since it had been scrubbed clean.
Starsky stopped at a small motorhome and gestured grandly at it. "Our home for the next week, Hutch. Loaner from Merl."
Hutch was a man rarely at a loss for words, and this was one of those times. He could only watch as Starsky opened the door and climbed inside. "Token of my appreciation."
"For..?"
"Kiddin' me?"
Hutch shook his head in exasperation and climbed inside, viewing and admiring the handsome amenities. The motorhome was new, fully stocked with their favorite food, their clothes, and gear, including their guitars; decked with the latest features.
"Who's driving this thing?" Hutch asked.
"We'll take turns."
::
The road unfurled before them like a ribbon, vast and seemingly endless. As Starsky drove, Hutch wrote lyrics or poems. In the golden light of sunset, Starsky parked on top of a rugged cliff overlooking the restless ocean. Hutch raised his head from writing in his notebook and took in the scene, while Starsky reached back for his camera and snapped a picture of his partner.
"Will you stop that?" Hutch said returning to his notebook. "I'm no model."
"Coulda fooled me."
"I'm ready for a beer, how about you?"
"Sure," Starsky said moving from the driver's seat and opening the small fridge to pull out a couple bottles of beer. "Whatcha writin'?"
"Oh, just a few lines."
"Come on, let's set up some chairs outside, watch the chipmunks play."
As they set up chairs to relax in outside in the fresh evening air, watching one chipmunk stealing nuts from another one and eating them. Their laughter filled the spaces between them that had once been full of worry and pain. The next week would be a journey of oneness and gratitude.
When Hutch went inside the motorhome for their second beer, Starsky picked up the notebook Hutch had left behind in his chair, and read:
In friendship and nature, a magic does blend
Breathing life back to hearts once at their ends
Life's fleeting sorrows, like shadows, do pass
But the beauty of moments, like these, shall last
The End