STARSKY & HUTCH
Who do I trust?
January 13, 2018-2023 By: Startisparticus2017 aka Nancy Foote
DISCLAIMER: This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not profit from these stories. I simply borrow the characters.
Chapter 1
It was a gorgeous day in Bay City. Starsky tinkered on his car. It wasn't humid, the sun shone and no clouds were to be found. The driver's side of the Torino was sitting on a y-shaped car jack. Starsky had some grease smudged on his nose and cheek. Delicately, he put the components of the brakes back together. He wore a dingy dark navy-blue t-shirt and his faded blue jeans. On his knees, he leaned forward and made some adjustments. "Merle was right, the calipers are junk."
He straightened back up and sighed heavily when something fell and rolled beneath the car. "I dropped ya twenty minutes ago and now you appear." He bent over to try and retrieve it, but couldn't reach it. "Just the way things have been goin', get it together, Davey." He jumped to his feet and went to the front of the car. "Okay, schweetheart… ya know I love ya, but I got a date in an hour waitin' for me at Hutch's place. Come on work with me, babe." A glimmering smile formed as he caressed the hood of the pristine, glossy vehicle.
Starsky pulled out the mechanic's creeper and crouched down to lay on it. Once he was adjusted, he then rolled under the lifted car. The bolt that had fallen earlier was to his right. Once he had it in his grasp, he wheeled himself out using his legs. Examining the off-colored metal object, he sat up. "Just my luck, it's stripped." Pausing for a moment, he glanced around, then sighed heavily. "Now to getting up, that's a whole other thing, this body ain't like it used to be. Thanks to, you, James Gunther," his voice growled.
The brunet was back to work and physically fit. There were certain days that pain and emotional trauma would rear their ugly heads from what had transpired in the Bay City parking lot, but there was something else that was bothering Starsky. A downturn in reaction and sudden mood swing tinted his passive demeanor rapidly.
"Why'd ya do it Tommy?" A shrug of his shoulders, he sighed. "I should've told, Hutch. Why is talkin' bout Nam so hard?" He bowed his head. "Who do you trust, Detective Starsky?" A deep sigh. "I trust that tall-long-legged blond, my partner, and best friend, Hutch!" he whispered to himself.
An overwhelming feeling of panic caught him by surprise. Deep inside, it nagged him and he knew he needed to talk to Hutch and tell him about Tommy.
He tried to get to his feet. A flash of Hutch in harm's way flooded his mind. A gun was pointed directly at his partner. Starsky couldn't move, his body was paralyzed. The gun he held quivered uncontrollably. The scenery changed to a jungle; a strawberry blond kid stood in army fatigues. His helmet was halfcocked onto his head. A gun was fired and the young man was hit in the leg. As quickly as it appeared, the disturbing vision vanished.
Starsky was left stunned and trembling. "Tommy lost his leg because of me. Hutch could have been killed; I froze. I never should have been reinstated after Gunther."
Realization along with overwhelming anxiety rushed through his body like an electric current. In one fell swoop upward, he lost his balance when he stepped on the rolling mechanics bed and lost his footing. He fell striking his head on the bumper of the car. The extracted car part he had been holding rolled away as Starsky lay unconscious near his beloved lady.
Chapter 2
Starsky began to stir. His hand reached for his head; his fingers probed as he groaned. Fresh blood, pooled at the hairline, had streamed down past the temple and down to his ear. A small puddle had formed on the ground. Slowly grabbing the bumper of the car, he hoisted himself up, feeling uncoordinated. Everything around him spun, he closed his eyes. "Whoa." Taking several deep breaths and rubbing the frontal upper temporal area of his head, he opened his eyes and tried to focus. "What the hell happened?" Sudden moves appeared to unstable him. He glanced around through squinted eyes. "Where the hell am I?"
Gently he touched the hood of the car. "Nice car." A smile formed, then vanished quickly. "I got a nasty bump on my head. How'd I do that…?" Confusion hung on his features; he was unable to finish the sentence. "Who am? How can I ask myself what happened when I don't know who I am?" Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. "Don't panic." Opening his eyes, he assessed the situation. He gazed at the car, then examined his grease covered hands. He noted the trail of material leading to the garage and up the stairway to what look like a house or apartment. "This could be my car… If it is, I know one thing; I got good taste." A crooked smile formed.
Unstable, he followed the miscellaneous trail of debris up into the apartment. He hesitated when he touched the door knob, then turned it and entered as it opened. As though a cat on a prowl, he walked around scanning the entry, then noticed photos scattered about. The shelving unit ahead displayed a picture of two men in police uniforms. Starsky continued the search for answers and found the bathroom. His slightly trembling fingers found the light switch and flipped it. The mirror to his right above the vanity portrayed a very pale looking man with dark curly hair. "I look like the guy in the picture, but my hair is longer." Squinting, he reached up and rubbed the grease smudges from his nose and cheek.
Slowly and still unsteady he made his way to the living room, then entered the kitchen, and onto the bedroom. As he exited the bedroom, he noticed the coat hanger that housed a holster and gun. Pronounced shock consumed him. "I'm a cop? Okay, think… think."
As though a light bulb went off, he reached to his back pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet. Anxiety ridden fingers opened it. There shining, was a police badge proudly exhibiting Bay City Police Department and the number eighty-two. On the opposite side an ID with his picture and a name that read Detective David Michael Starsky. Starsky was overwhelmed and frightened at the same time.
He poked through the leather case opening and pulled a business card with his name on it, on the back it read in chicken scratch. 'In case of emergency call Detective Ken Hutchinson,' two phone numbers below which read home and Bay City PD.
Starsky searched for the telephone and wandered over to the counter. He placed the badge fold down and the card next to it on the counter. Cupping his hand over his mouth briefly, he then grabbed the handset on the side table and dialed the home number. The phone rang three times before it was answered by a man. "Hello… hello, somebody there?"
The brunet pressed his lips together. "Uh, H…Hello." Hesitation and pure fear escaped his lips.
Women giggling in the background caught his attention. The man on the other end laughed.
"Starsky, you're late. Lynn and Tessa are here and dinner is almost ready." There was an unsettling moment of silence which caught Hutch's attention, his playful grin melting away. "Starsk, what's with you?
Starsky rubbed his thumb on his bottom lip. "Is this, Detective Ken Hutchinson? If not, I'd like to speak to him." The words were precise, with no undertone.
Hutch chuckled, "You are really funny, mush brain. What's with the formality, Starsky?" He continued to laugh, but noticed no response from the other end of the phone. Immediately a chill ran down his spine. His smile evaporated. "Everything okay, Buddy?"
The brunet sighed. "Could ya tell him David Starsky called, and have him return the call. It's important." The handset was slowly placed onto the cradle.
"Starsky? Starsk…?" The blond stood in awe when he heard the dial tone.
Chapter 3
The Galaxy pulled up to the curbside and came to a screeching halt in front of the Ridgeway apartment. Hutch exited the car as it rocked back and forth. He walked quickly by the Torino and stopped when he noticed the tools, tire and what looked like a small pool of blood on the ground in front of the car. He adjusted his brown leather jacket and went up the stairway. Without knocking, he entered the apartment.
Starsky was sitting on the couch with a towel pressed to the upper area of his forehead. Wide open orbs of cobalt blue met Hutch's stunned iced blue stare.
"Listen… I'm sorry, I thought this was my place." The startled brunet stood quickly dropping the towel filled with ice. The cloth and its contents crashed on the floor and scattered.
Hutch put his hands on his hips and shook his head. He laughed briefly. "Oh, I see what this is… it's funny, but not funny. I deserve it… I shouldn't have faked amnesia. You got me, Starsk." He pointed the Hutchinson finger, "You got me good, partner."
Bending over, Starsky collected the ice cubes on the floor and the towel. A sudden rush of dizziness consumed him and he almost fell. Hutch quickly assessed that something was really wrong and was at his side to help stabilize him. "Easy there, Starsk." The usual mother-hen routine took over as he examined the swollen cut. "You need to get that looked at." The blond's large hand was casually placed to comfort onto Starsky's shoulder.
Uncomfortable, the brunet pulled away and went toward the table. "What are ya a doctor?" He dropped the towel onto the table. "Look Mister, I'm lookin' for Detective Ken Hutchinson. His name was in my bill fold as an emergency contact." His shoulders were stiff, his jaw was rigid and voice held tension.
Hutch smiled; he cupped the back of his neck with his hand. "Mister? This isn't funny, Starsky. You could be seriously hurt." A deadbolt locked stare of blue on blue quickly provided the blond with the scary truth. The man in front of him looked like Starsky, sounded like him, but those alluring blue eyes were definitely not registering. "Y-You really don't know who I am, do you?" Softly he asked. "Starsky, it's me Hutch, Detective Ken Hutchinson, your partner." Devastation wiped away any doubt on the blond's man's face.
The man at the table pursed his lips and averted his eyes to the pictures on the shelf. "From the looks of those pictures, we've been together a long time. Ya looked like a kid." He smiled. "I've been tryin' to piece things together. I was hopin' ya could help me."
The look of a boy lost in a department store tugged at the big blond's heart. Hutch walked over and gathered the iced and put it back into the towel, then placed it next to his friends' hand.
"You got it, Buddy. Let's get you checked out first." A reserved calm tone was expressed, but inside there was a towering volcano of fear and uncertainty.
The compassion on the blond's face and comforting soothing tone gave Starsky what he needed, someone to help him. Taking the cloth, he held it to his head. "Okay."
Chapter 4
Huggy was dressed in a vibrant red and blue plaid jacket, gentleman's hat, and dark blue bell-bottom pants as he entered the hospital waiting room with two cups of coffee. "Here ya go, Hutch." He sat next to Hutch who was focused on the entrance of the room. "Are you certain he's not playin' you?" The question left his lips as he cocked his head slightly to the side.
Hutch sipped his coffee and sighed. "I saw it in his eyes. Starsky could fool most anyone undercover, you'd never see the fear or uncertainty. He's not faking this… he's scared, he had no clue who I was at all." The response held tension and concern in his voice.
A petite woman dressed in a lab coat entered. Her name tag read Doctor Evelyn Docker. Although plain, her rounded features and sultry green eyes emanated beauty. She extended her hand out to Hutch. "Detective Hutchinson, I'm Doctor Docker. I am part of the team taking care of Mr. Starsky."
Hutch shook her hand and introduced Huggy, who also shook her hand. The pleasantries aside, Hutch pointed to the chair near him. "How is he doing?" Anxiety kidnapped his professional tone.
The Doctor smiled, "He did take a few stitches. Dr. Franklin asked me to speak with you. I have no doubt that Mr. Starsky has a head injury, possibly a mild concussion." She glanced over at Huggy, then back to Hutch. "Dr. Franklin contacted me; I'm a psychiatrist. Perhaps you could step into my office?"
Hutch's eyes widened. "A psychiatrist?" he growled loudly and abruptly. "Whatever you have to say lady, you can say it to both of us." His tone was tight with unease.
Her eyes met Huggy, then she glanced back to Hutch. "Amnesia isn't what people think it is, it's a short-term memory situation. You don't forget your name just because you bumped your head. That's only in the movies." A warm smile appeared. "Dr. Franklin provided an extensive medical history of Mr. Starsky's medical background. I don't believe what he is experiencing is physical as much as psychological." She searched Hutch's features to determine if he understood.
Hutch stood abruptly and began to pace. "What are you saying, he's crazy?" Agitation added an edge to his voice.
The young psychologist pressed her lips together. "I believe that many things had transpired, trauma, near death, and the trials of stress have assisted in creating Dissociative Amnesia." She sighed. "This was not caused from the head injury; this was mentally induced. In the line of work that you and Detective Starsky do, it is possible. This does not mean he is crazy; it just means he's taking a break." Her voice was calm.
The pacing figure placed his hands over his face and slid them down. Quickly he took the chair near the doctor and placed it between her and Huggy and sat. "Taking a break? You need to guide me through this, Doctor." The response was louder than he intended.
The woman placed her hand onto Hutch's arm. "Detective, I don't know the details, however, I have seen the scaring on his body. I also noted he served in Vietnam. Something set this into motion. Only you can fill in the blanks. There are many tiers of Dissociative Amnesia. There are three states, Localize, Fugue, and General. Dissociative Amnesia is rare and more of a psychological condition, Localized focuses on a specific area of trauma. Fugue: the person adopts another identity as a coping mechanism due to trauma. Generalized amnesia, the person's identity, name, job, family and friends are forgotten." Squeezing her hand upon his arm. "I believe we are dealing with Generalized."
The red rimmed moisture filled eyes and tightly pressed lips indicated Hutch was on information overload. The normally calm demeanor was on the brink of an explosion. "W-What happens now? Is this permanent?"
The doctor pulled a note pad and pen from her pocket and extended it to Hutch. "In some cases, his memory could return in hours, possibly weeks. I wish I could give you a more definitive answer and timeline. My concern is more directed to when he does remember. There might be psychological repercussions. I'm not expecting a novel, anything that you can list for me that may have brought us to this situation would be helpful. We can begin with psychotherapy, there's also cognitive behavioral therapy, meditation."
Hutch took the paper and pen. The doctor stood and comforted Hutch one more time by touching his shoulder. "I'll be back in an hour."
Chapter 5
Huggy sat in the waiting room. The note pad sat on the side table. Hutch was nowhere to be seen. Scanning the room again and the entrance he took the tablet into his hand. He began to read the list. "Vietnam, he doesn't talk about it." He nodded. "Father killed in line of duty. Mother relocated him to Bay from New York as a teen." A heavy sigh followed. "Starsky's poisoned, Helen is murdered. Cops killed in his name, Terry died because of his job, Rosey left because of… her father, his job." The thin black man shook his head from side to side. "Lost Jackson, I'm shot, he's shot. I'm missing and drugged, I contract some plague, almost died, Kira… I screwed up. Joey Webster, veteran who killed blonde women. Assassination attempt at BCPD, Starsky shot, three bullets, Died, came back. Physical therapy, pain... pain… pain. Doesn't know if he will be a cop again, I think he's doing it for me. Shots fired; he froze… won't talk about it." The item was placed back onto the table. Huggy bit his bottom lip. A deep internal cleansing breath that he had been holding was released. He whispered to himself, "A plethora of trauma served on a platter." The words hung in the air amongst the silence of the room.
Hutch entered the room his shoulders low and wearing an appearance of defeat. He sat in a chair near Huggy. "I forgot your coffee." He leaned forward to stand when a hand pulled him back down.
Huggy sat back. "No sweat."
Hutch leaned forward, placed his elbows on his bent knees and bowed his head. "Why didn't I see this coming?" He raised his head and glanced to his side.
Huggy looked down toward the floor and twitched his lips from side to side. "I don't think he saw it comin' either, Amigo. Starsky is… Starsky." He placed his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Don't think you've had the luxury of time yourself, blondie. You've both been on a landslide."
Doctor Docker entered the room and went to the side table and took the pen and pad. She quickly scanned what was written. "Perfect, we are going to keep him overnight for observations. He asked for you, he's in room 240."
A moment of hope plastered itself onto the blond's face. He rose to his feet and headed out the door way. The long strides of his legs stopped abruptly when he reached the room. A nurse exited and held the door for him to enter. Starsky sat in the bed, a wide beaming smile came across his face. "I thought ya left, Ken."
The blond stood at the base of the bed; his heart sank at his partner calling him Ken. A forced smile formed as he pulled a chair next to the bed and sat. "Call me Hutch, okay? Why would I leave with you still sitting in here?" His chest felt as though it had caved in.
Starsky smiled and fidgeted with the blankets. "Evelyn says I got Dissociative Abnesia or Andanesia, something like that. Do these doctors ever speak so a guy like me can understand?" He chuckled. "Glad ya didn't leave, K… Hutch. I can blow this joint tomorrow." He smiled nervously. "Doctor Franklin says were famous around here." A sheepish grin formed. "Why ya so quiet, cat got your tongue, Blondie?"
The familiar nickname caused Hutch's heart to race once again. "Starsky, you called me Blondie!" His eyes searched his dark-haired friend intensely. The sudden rush trickled away, when confusion plagued his partner's face. "I-I thought for a moment you remembered."
Sadness formed on Starsky's face, he plucked at the edge of the pristine, white, sheet. "We must've been close, huh? Ya did it back there at the apartment, you can read me like a book. Strange thing is, it's weird but I don't mind." A hint of redness settled upon his face. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."
A nurse entered the room with a chart. She was a very tall woman and stern looking. "Mr. Starsky, we need to take you down for an EEG. We already did the MRI. They will be back later for a second-round of blood and urine." Her voice and tone were to the point, so no messing around.
A wide smile formed on Starsky's face. "Bet ya say that to all your patients." He winked at her. "Say Hutch, will you be coming back?" The question and expression resembled a child inquiring whether or not he was going to get an ice-cream.
Hutch stood and smiled at the nurse and turned his attention to his friend. "Sure… I'll be back. I'll take you home when they release you." The fact that he had to state that made him feel alienated and very uncomfortable. The normal routine to what was always a given, now was a walking bridge made out of frayed rope.
Chapter 6
Captain Dobey sat at his desk. A knock on the door distracted him from what he was reading. "Come in," he barked.
The door opened and Hutch walked in with sunken shoulders. "Captain."
The Captain took notice to his detective's posture and blank expression. "What are you doing here? You are not due for duty until Tuesday." He searched for any form of eye contact from the blond as he sat down and submerged into the chair.
Hutch sighed. "Starsky's in the hospital, he's being released tomorrow." His long fingers rubbed his forehead.
Dark concerned eyes continued to stare at Hutch. "What in blazes happened?" The office chair creaked as he sat up and adjusted his dark brown suit jacket.
A hand slammed down onto the arm rest of the chair. "From what I gathered, he hit his head fixing his car. He has a concussion." Hutch pulled his bottom lip in. "Starsky doesn't know me, he doesn't know his name." Partially opened lips took a deep breath.
The captain sat back and chuckled. "I take it you got the short straw? You are both to report to work on Tuesday, Hutchinson." He shook his head and glared with amusement. He stopped laughing, the smile disappeared. "You can't be serious? This isn't a game he's playing to get you back is it?"
The long drawn out despondent face that sat before him answered the question without words. "Doctor Docker calls his condition psychological: Dissociative Amnesia, the generalized version." The despondent blond covered his mouth with one hand.
Captain Dobey bowed his head and took a long deep cleansing breath. "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder related; trauma induced. It is rare, combat veterans experience it. I've heard of it," he stated calmly. "I'll take you and your partner off the schedule for the rest of the week. I will keep this between us, but I don't know for how long." Worried dark-chocolate-colored eyes focused on his troubled detective.
Pressing his thumb and finger against the bridge of his nose, Hutch sat in deep thought. "Doctor Docker claims something triggered this… something happened. It's not permanent, but she can't say when his memory will return." Agitation made its presence known in his tone. "How could I have missed it? Have I been so wrapped up in my own agenda to totally miss this, Captain?"
Sitting back against the noisy office chair, the captain sighed. "That's not possible, you have both been through more than any one person should go through." Pausing briefly, he glared compassionately. "You haven't had time to yourself since… since, your partner was gunned down. We'll get through this… Starsky's tough, and resilient. You are not alone, and neither is he… keep me posted." A soft tone took the edge off the somber mood.
Hutch stood slowly and nodded. "I'll keep you posted, thanks, Captain." With shoulders still slumped as though he were dejected, he turned and exited the office.
The Captain watched and bowed his head. "I'll pray for you both."
Chapter 7
Starsky sat on the hospital bed. He was dressed and ready to go. Curiously, he examined the sleeve of the newer version of his prized leather jacket that was destroyed by The Gunther attack. The arms appeared a little worn, he slid his fingers over the discolored material. A soothing sensation overtook him as he admired it. It felt familiar, comforting. A rush of visions suddenly took over; Hutch was on the other side of the red car, there was the sound of metal against metal. Between his fingers were keys… someone yelling, "Starsky, get down!" Rapid gun fire and once again the same voice but now truly panicked. "STARSKY!" It was difficult to breathe as darkness consumed him.
A knock on the door startled him back. A man wearing a military uniform entered. He smiled widely. "Davey Starsky, you son-of-a-gun, it's me Brent, Brent Hadley. I was on my way to your place. The nurse at the desk said your name, I couldn't believe it. Look at you… long hair, civilian clothes." He quickly entered and grabbed the stunned patient's hand.
Surprised, Starsky shook his hand and bashfully grinned. "Mr. Hadley, ya called me, Davey? Listen you seem like a really nice fella, but I don't remember ya." Embarrassed, he crossed his arms over his chest. His fingers were white in color from the pressure he applied on his arms.
Hutch entered and noticed the uncomfortable expression on his partner's face. "Hey, is everything okay?" He went to Starsky's side. "I'm Ken, Ken Hutchinson."
The soldier extended his hand to shake. "Brent Hadley, Davey and I were in-country. I'm here visiting my parents and attending Tommy Mitchell's funeral." Empathy and confusion were present in his features.
Starsky seemed even more withdrawn. "If you'll excuse me." Ejecting quickly from the bed with arms quickly dropped to his side, Starsky clenched his fists and headed to the bathroom.
Hutch bowed his head momentarily then looked up and focused his attention on the military man. "I'm his partner, he and I are detectives. I have to apologize, unfortunately h-he's not himself."
Hadley looked toward the bathroom. "So, he really doesn't know who I am." A sigh filled with empathy escaped his lips. "My mother is on this floor, I overheard one of the nurses, she said he had a smile to die for." He chuckled. "She mentioned his name while I was on my way to my mother's room. Mom has cancer." Sorrow tugged at his features. "I don't suppose he'll be attending Tommy's funeral tomorrow." He swallowed hard, suddenly his mouth was very dry. "Tommy and Davey were really close. Tommy never was quite right when he came back, he committed suicide."
Hutch's eyes widened, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a business card. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother and Tommy. Could you do me a favor and call my office and leave the funeral information along with yours with Captain Harold Dobey?" Lowering his voice, he added. "Any information that you can provide regarding Tommy and their relationship would be appreciated. I know, Starsky would want me to send flowers. When he's feeling better maybe he'll call you."
A warm smile and nod of the head. Hadley took the business card and went to the doorway. As though something came to mind, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. He admired it for a moment and extended it to Hutch. "This is for Davey. Tommy left instructions to have this delivered."
The tall blond took the envelope and placed it in his coat pocket. "I'll make sure he gets it." As he fumbled with his jacket something came to mind. "Say, did someone contact Starsky regarding Tommy? Do you know when?"
Hadley scratched his head. "Tommy's mother called Davey, two days ago." The uniformed man exited the room with his head bowed.
Hutch thought to himself: 'Two days ago? Is this why his partner was so quiet?' The blond cupped his mouth. 'The same day… he froze, something Starsky has never done. Maybe this letter holds the answer.'
Starsky opened the door and peered around and exited the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I should've stayed. I-I… oh, I don't know what to say or do." He strutted casually over to Hutch. The normally confident stature appeared heavy as he approached. Picking at his fingers, the brunet scrunched his lips together before he spoke. "I think I remembered something; I was holdin' a set of keys; you were on the other side of the red car. It sounded like metal being scraped or crushed. Someone was yellin' my name. I'm assuming it was you. Must be why I have these scars." The task of fumbling digits ended as he raised his head and looked at Hutch. The color appeared to drain from the blond detective's face rapidly. Starsky grew concerned and instinctively grabbed the distressed form's arm near him. "Hey, Hutch, you okay?"
A nurse appeared with a wheel chair and a bag of personal items. Her smile was warm and welcoming. "There you go, David, all the information for Doctor Docker is in the bag. Let's get you out of here."
Chapter 8
Huggy and Captain Dobey waited at Starsky's apartment. The tall barkeep loaded containers into the refrigerator, as the Captain ate an Italian sandwich at the table. Slowly, Huggy folded the paper bag that had housed the food. "Starsky's car is fixed, I called in a favor. Merle the Earl and Detective Blondie don't see eye to eye, they are like two alley cats!"
Wiping the corners of his mouth as he finished the sandwich, the Captain nodded. "That is what I call and good Italian sub, Huggy."
The door opened and Starsky walked in with Hutch in tow. Starsky stopped suddenly and gazed at the two men. Hutch walked around him and placed the clothing sack on the chair. "Starsky, the man at the table is our Captain, Captain Dobey and the other gentlemen is a friend of ours, he owns a bar called The Pits, this is Huggy Bear."
The shoulders were slightly rigid and on the defensive. Shyly he smiled. "Captain, Mr. Bear." He nodded. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't remember ya." Searching for an excuse, he grabbed the hospital bag. "If you'll excuse me." He swaggered toward the bedroom.
The Captain looked at Hutch, then Huggy and sighed. "He called me Captain. He's definitely not himself."
Starsky reappeared quietly. He played with his fingers as though picking at something for a distraction. "I need to stop hidin'." He gazed at all three men. "I appreciate you all being here, but things are really strange. I don't remember you and trusting myself or anyone right now is… is hard."
Huggy stepped forward and extended his hand. "We can't say we understand, but we get it, Curly. Take it one minute at a time." A smile formed as his hand lingered in the air.
A quick glance at Hutch and a confirmation that all was well. Starsky grasped Huggy's hand. "I like ya already."
Captain Dobey studied his dark-hair detective. "I hope you get back to your old self soon." A moment's glare at Hutch. "If you need anything, call." Patting his stomach with satisfaction, he stood and headed for the door. Huggy followed him.
Starsky stood in the middle of the living room appearing lost and dazed. Hutch sat on the arm of the couch. "You okay?"
With zombie-like reflexes, Starsky removed the leather coat and placed it on the opposite side of the couch. "Truth is I'm scared. I don't know why but I feel I can trust ya… it feels right." There was the all too familiar feeling present in his statement. "The Captain and Huggy Bear seem really concerned, but you… it's different. I just don't see it, I feel it. It's a weird feeling, but a good one." A pressed lipped look made its way to his partner.
Hutch smiled fondly. "People say we have a unique connection. We communicate without speaking. We've been that way since the academy. We were assigned different precincts, then we became partners. We've been together over eleven years." A chuckle escaped his lips. "You drive a flashy red tomato and I drive a beat-up hunk of junk. Your words, not mine." A shy, reserved smile formed.
Starsky laughed, then bowed his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why can't I remember?" There was a slight hitch in his voice that gave the indication he was frightened. "Evelyn says something triggered this psychological condition. I don't have any right to ask ya, but would ya help me figure it out?" Soft, terrified baby blue eyes met Hutch's comforting gaze.
Hutch removed his jacket and walked over to the coat hanger. He carefully hung the coat and turned. "You're correct, you don't have the right to ask." A wide smile formed, showing he was teasing. "Why don't you take a nap, I'll get something cooking. Then we'll do some detective work."
A sense of calm overtook the brunet. He didn't understand it, but he wasn't going to question it. Detective Ken Hutchinson had a way of making him feel safe and that he was in good company. A sheepish smile formed, Starsky nodded, and went to the bedroom.
Chapter 9
The contents for making a salad sat on the counter. Hutch grabbed the phone and dialed a single digit. "Operator, the number for Memorial Hospital, main number." He shrugged his shoulders as he waited. "Doctor Docker, Detective Hutchinson, thank you."
Doctor Docker entered an office to the end of the hall and pressed a button on the phone. "Doctor Docker."
Hutch sighed. "Doctor Docker, Ken Hutchinson. I may have some information regarding Starsky's, I mean David's condition." He began fidgeting nervously.
She pulled the black office chair and sat. "That is wonderful." She quickly pulled a note pad and pen. "Please go ahead." A smile formed.
Hutch double checked to make sure he was alone. "Two days prior to his accident, Starsky and I were on a stake-out, things got heated. The assailant had a gun on me, Starsky froze. He wasn't himself that day… quiet, distant." The tall blond brushed his fingers through his hair. "Today, someone who knew Starsky during his tenure in the army stopped in to see him at the hospital. He mentioned a friend of Starsky's, Tommy, committed suicide. They were in Vietnam together. Tommy's mother called Starsk the same day he… ah froze. Brent Hadley, gave me an envelope to give to Starsky from Tommy Mitchell," his voice faltered softly.
Doctor Docker put the pen down onto the desk. Her features saddened. "Has David mentioned Tommy's name before?"
Hutch pressed his lips together and sighed. "Just that they were very close and that Tommy had lost his leg. He never said it, but I got the feeling that he blamed himself for what happened." A long-denied release of air left his lips.
The doctor leaned against the back of the chair. "Have you read the letter? Does David know about the letter?" The questions were rushed.
Hutch glanced around the apartment. "No, and no." He raised his hand to rub the crease between his brows. "What should I do?"
Sitting upward and straight, the young woman sighed heavily. "I'm glad you called, this information is very important and gives me an insight as to what we are dealing with. Let's plan on meeting tomorrow at two, bring the letter." A deep sigh followed. "Mr. Hutchinson, unless he asks or accidentally finds the letter, perhaps he should hold off reading it." Evelyn's urgency to her request and concern trickled through her words. Hutch nodded and thanked her; he dropped the handset onto the receiver.
"So, I am crazy." Starsky stood between the bathroom and bedroom.
Hutch turned as he startled slightly. Collecting his composure, he said, "I won't deny it. But not the crazy that you think you are, Buddy." Gathering himself, he smiled. "How much did you hear?"
Starsky bowed his head for a second and then looked back up, fear and unease decorated his features. "Something about me freezing, Hadley giving you a letter, and Tommy committing suicide." Taking in a deep breath, he twitched his lips to one side. "I take it you were talkin' to Evelyn. I can see this not knowin' who I am is really hard on ya." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Why don't ya read the letter?" He raised his eyebrows.
Hutch studied his partner for a few seconds. He pulled the envelope from his pocket and placed it onto the counter. "I've got some chili simmering and cornbread in the oven. What do you say we eat first?"
Starsky gave him a crooked smile. "I am kinda hungry."
A soft chuckle was released. "Never thought I'd say this, glad that hasn't changed." The blond smiled.
Chapter 10
Starsky sat on the edge of the bed playing with the string from his dark navy blue pajama bottoms. He glanced over to the alarm clock and noted it was now 12:45 am. Bowing his head and taking in a deep breath, he stood and adjusted his matching blue t-shirt. Sensing a presence, he looked to the doorway of the bedroom where Hutch stood in his grey sweatshirt and matching pants. A faint smile formed. "Sorry if I woke ya." Like a slow motioned balloon deflating, the brunet sat back down.
Hutch slowly entered and sat on a lounge chair near the closet. His motions mimicking his partner's in speed. "You didn't wake me." Obvious concern cascaded over the blond's features.
Running his hands over his face and releasing a long sigh, Starsky pressed his lips together and looked at his friend. "I'm tryin' to figure this all out." The slack shoulders grew rigid as he turned away. "From one minute to the next I feel like I am comin' out of my own skin." The New York accent was strongly present. "I'm a cop, I've got a life, friends, co-workers… and I don't remember. I want to know, but at the same time it scares the hell out of me." His head bowed as he sighed.
The blond noted the changes in his partner's physique as he searched for words of comfort.
Starsky glanced up briefly. "That blond head of yours is racing a mile a minute." A faint snort escaped then seriousness cascaded and veiled the moment. "I feel numb, sad, guilty and angry… like I've let you, and me down." The once rigid shoulders loosened up. "Ya gonna think this is strange, I feel like two people… one side feels safe, the other not so much."
In that moment, Starsky felt himself drifting into another reality. He had a gun in his hand pointed at a man who had a pistol pointed at Hutch. In the same strange flash-back moment another young man, blond, in a combat uniform stood with a riffle pointed at him and a shot was fired. The visions were gone as quickly as they appeared. The brunet felt a rush of paranoia and blanched in color immediately. The tall blond was kneeling before him. A warm comforting hand was placed upon his arm and soft voice spoke to him, "Starsk, hey… talk to me, Buddy. Where'd you just go?"
Starsky felt the effects of panic. Closing his eyes briefly then opening them to meet vibrant, frightened blue eyes glaring at him with overwhelming concern. Breathing felt almost impossible at that moment, then eased as he tried to speak. "I saw you; someone was going to shoot you and another guy… in army fatigues someone shot him." A chill trailed through his body.
Hutch bowed his head and squeezed his friend's arm lightly. The battle Starsky was under was nothing he could control or fix, and it hurt deeply. He without really thinking automatically did what he would have normally done and sat near his friend and wrapped his arm around him and pulled him to his body gently, and firmly. Starsky without hesitation allowed it and lay his tired head onto his friend's shoulder and appeared to surrender as he stared off into the semi-darkened room. "It's okay, Starsk. We'll get through this. Okay?" The crease of worry burrowed its presence on his forehead along with red-rimmed eyes that blinked with moisture building on the brim.
Chapter 11
Hutch sat in a waiting room outside of Dr. Dockers office. The flow of normal hospital events passed by him as he waited. His eyes locked onto the clock that read 4:00 pm. "Two hours," he whispered to himself. The door to the office opened with Doctor Docker motioning him in. The tall blond entered her office in three strides. He noted his partner sitting with once again extremely unyielding broad shoulders. Noting the demeanor, he sat cautiously in the chair next to his friend. Starsky never acknowledged him.
Sitting at her desk, Doctor Docker took her pen and wrote some notes. She made eye contact with Hutch. "David and I spoke in length about what occurred over the last couple of days. I've read the letter that was left by Tommy Mitchell. David has expressed that he is not ready to read it, but requested that you read it." Her tone was calm.
Hutch adjusted his posture in the chair. "If that's what Starsky wants, yes, I'll read it."
The Doctor tapped her pen a few times and extended the enveloped letter to Hutch. He took it. "Starsky, are you s-sure?" Nervousness caused him to slightly stutter.
In the same position he was when his friend came in, Starsky nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Dr. Docker cleared her throat. "We have more to discuss. I am truly concerned about David's mental wellbeing and suggest that he spend some time at Cabrillo State Hospital for his safety."
Hutch's eyes grew wide and wild as he stood sending the chair onto its back. Starsky's body appeared to stiffen upon the reaction and sound as he turned to observe the fierce giant standing next to him. "Listen Lady, you can take that idea and s…!" The towering inferno stopped mid-sentence when Starsky suddenly stood and placed himself in front of his excited friend.
Starsky placed a comforting hand on Hutch's arm. "Like I said, Doc, that was goin' to go over like a fart in church." He turned to meet the unsettled glare. "I can't explain how I know; I just do."
Hutch bowed his head momentarily, then approached the desk. "I… I apologize. We have a history at Cabrillo. We did some undercover work. I will never let my partner step foot in that place again." He looked at the letter, then back at the Doctor. "I'll take full responsibility for his mental and medical care. Well, of course if that's okay with you, Starsk?" A slight turn of his head.
Starsky smiled and nudged him. "I was hopin' you'd say that, Ken… I mean, Hutch."
Doctor Docker stood slowly and crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. "I have to say I have never in my career experienced this… this dedication. The connection between you two men is remarkable. Gentlemen, this is by far irregular behavior on Mr. Starsky's part as a host of Generalized Amnesia. Most… most have little to no trust in anyone. Some don't even seem concerned that they can't remember." She nudged her head side to side in disbelief. "I'm on call if you need me."
Starsky nodded and guided Hutch toward the door. "Come on, tall, blond and handsome." They walked out into the hallway with Hutch closing the door. A man stood at the end of the hallway. His 5'7 stature and husky build were oddly out of hospital character. The stranger watched their every move.
Sensing something, Hutch looked down the hall and noticed the awkward, scandalous looking individual. "Waddell!" Without warning he ran down the hall but lost sight of the unwelcomed encounter, who seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Starsky confused, followed in tow. At the end of the hall, they both stopped, Hutch was winded and seemed on edge. "Did you see him?"
Starsky nodded, "I take it he wasn't a friend."
Placing his hands on his hips, Hutch continued to look around. "No, definitely not. We may have some trouble coming our way, Buddy."
Chapter 12
Captain Dobey held the telephone handset to his ear intensely. He reviewed a file folder as he listened. The picture was a younger version of the man that was standing at the end of the hallway at the hospital. "I want an APB put out on Waddell Standings, 5'7, husky build, approximately late 30's early forties, dark hair, he has been known to carry a gun. I want him considered armed and dangerous. Now… Thank you." The handset landed in the cradle of the phone set.
A knock on the door interrupted his burst of anger. "Come in," he barked loudly.
The door opened abruptly and Huggy, wearing a jean jacket and matching bell bottom pants, he sauntered in closing the door. "Good evening to you, too." He sat on the chair in front of the desk. He tipped the newsboy hat and chewed on a toothpick. "Hutch was correct, Standings is roaming the Bay City area. Word on the street is he's out for blood. The dynamic duo arresting his kid brother has got him on edge." He raised his eyebrows to emphasize his statement.
The captain glanced over the folder once again. He sat back and sighed. "Standings is a loose cannon; my men are sitting ducks, Huggy." The large right hand cupped his cheek in frustration. "The kid brother, Brett, almost shot Hutch a few days ago, he just made bail." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead.
Huggy sunk in the chair, then pulled the thin piece of wood from his mouth. "It's on the streets Mo-Cap-e-tan. Someone's spilled the beans about Curly's condition. Wild Wally is out for blood." The toothpick was placed back into his mouth.
A face of stone casted its eyes upon the barkeep. "I'll deal with the menace to society that leaked out that information." His voice was slightly pitched with an angered growl.
Slouched and leaning to one side in the chair, Huggy nodded. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that conversation." Straightening himself out and slowly standing, Huggy added, "I know you're worried, I am too. If I get anymore news… you'll be the first know."
Chapter 13
Sitting on a couch in a slightly dilapidated apartment was Waddell Standings. Slouched with his shirt open and legs apart, he sipped on a beer. Sweat ran down his thinly covered chest. His younger brother exited a room to his left with a towel over his bare shoulders and waist. "Thanks for springing me, Waddy. I couldn't a spent another day in that cell." He extended his arm outward and snapped the lamp on shining some much-needed light in the semi-darkened room. The kid plopped himself onto the love seat near his brother. "I'm telling you brother… Starsky froze, he froze! It was like he saw a ghost. He was shakin' like an earthquake."
Waddell placed the cold can of beer onto his forehead and chuckled. "Your Aunt Catarina called me when she saw Hutchinson the first time at the hospital, she overheard the nurse say that Starsky don't know who he is." Removing the beer and taking a long sip, he raised his can of beer in a manner of a solute. "Couldn't a happen to a better person. Rotten pig."
Brett laughed loudly and wiped his face. "So, what do we do now?" Inquisitively, he glared at his brother. "They got me on a robbery rap and a bunch of other things." A tone of frustration etched his words.
Waddell formed a sinister grin and looked at his brother. "I overheard that shrink Starsky's seeing. Whatever he's got, well, it aint' permanent. We need to move sooner than later." Leaning forward, he placed his beverage onto the dusty coffee table. "Loose lips, sink ships, brother. I've been getting a lot of information from some hammered cops." He winked at his brother. "Seems, Starsky and Hutchinson are on some much-needed time off. This thing with Starsky is on the hush-hush. Hutchinson's been hanging out at his partner's place." Wiping his face with his hands cupped on both sides, he chuckled. "Take one down, the other's gonna fall apart."
The kid brother nodded in agreement as he smiled. "So, we get Hutchinson distracted and take down Starsky." The smile faded. "How are we going to do that?" The question was asked with a pitched tone of confusion.
Standing slowly from the comfort of the couch, Waddell stretched. His eyes averted toward the handgun on the end of the coffee table. "Don't you worry little brother; I've got it all worked out. Tomorrow night, we take those two cops down."
Chapter 14
Hutch sat on the peacock chair as he sipped a bottle of beer. He seemed miles away in thought as he placed the cold beverage onto the side table. His eyes averted toward the bathroom door which was closed. The sound of a faucet being turned and water running appeared to bring him back to the current moment. Bending his knees and sitting up straight, he pulled the letter that Dr. Docker gave him from his back pocket, he hesitated and pulled the letter from the envelope. The unfolding of the paper seemed to be a daunting task as he took a deep breath and read.
"Hey Davey, I know it's been ages since we talked. Sorry about that, but life has a way of doing that don't it? You're reading this letter because I am dead. I hope you of all people can understand why I did what I did, man.
I got to explain something to you because I know you blamed yourself for what happened to me. You were the brother I never had. I could count on you all the way. You were like a shadow. That day my leg got blown off was not your fault. I choked. I didn't have your back. I probably shouldn't have joined the army in the first place. My parents always said I wasn't quite right in the head. They were right; I couldn't handle pressure. That day in the jungle you were like a super-hero. I've never seen anyone do the things you did, Davey."
Hutch paused and looked around and took a deep breath. He knew exactly what Tommy meant about his partner's dedication to those he called friend. Taking a long deep breath, he continued to read.
"Those last few days we lost Jay-Jay, Darren, and that weird little guy Danny D. I got to say for a man his size he knew how to fight. Death was all around us. Some of what happened those days are deep in my head like scars. They are there forever. The shrink says it's in my subconscious. I buried those, I'm sure you don't need a reminder. I freaked out man. Everything was like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from and I still can't. I always thought you had a death wish; couldn't understand why you'd do what you did for me or any of the guys. Always did for others and never expected anything in return."
The blond pressed his lips together and took another deep breath. His heart was heavy as he nodded with acknowledgement and heavy-hearted emotion.
"Soapy scenes, you avoided them like the plague, Davey, yet you always found a way to express what you were feeling. Me losing my leg was my fault. I'm the one who let my head go elsewhere and left you hanging. I'm the one who let you down along with those other guys. I went some place else and escaped and let you handle things all on your own. I remember what you said when we got home, after they took the rest of my leg. You told me losing my leg didn't make me less of a man. Giving up wasn't in the cards. If you put your mind to it, anything is possible."
Taking the letter with his left hand, Hutch wiped away a stray tear before he continued to read.
"Well, you know that some of us came away from over there scarred, lost, and just not the same. I tried Davey, I really tried to get myself together. I actually thought I had. I married Jenny, we lost our first kid. I got a real good job at a garage; I even became a business partner. We lost our second kid; Jenny wasn't the same after that loss. My partner got into trouble gambling; we lost our business. I couldn't cope with any of this anymore. Jenny and I divorced and Ted, the business partner, filed bankruptcy and I was living in small cottage on my parents' farm. I couldn't take them looking at me with pity anymore. It went downhill from there, my friend. I know you tried to call me. I just couldn't talk to you. I just couldn't shake the nightmares. I'm sorry, Davey, I really tried. I couldn't go on feeling the way I was feeling.
Don't blame yourself, you weren't at fault.
Always,
Tommy"
The letter was folded carefully and gently and placed back into the envelope. Hutch placed it onto the table near the chair. His eyes were filled with trapped moisture: the emotions wanting to break the backed-up dam. He sat back and covered his face with both hands and wiped downward. Startled, Hutch looked up to see Starsky standing in the bathroom doorway.
Starsky tugged at his blue t-shirt as he sucked in his top lip for a moment. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Must have been some letter. You seemed to be really into it." Distracting himself, he tugged on his pajama bottoms and sat on the edge of the couch.
Hutch's face flushed slightly. He stooped forward placing his elbows on his knees. Needing to regain his dignity, he clasped his hands. His head bowed looking onto the floor. "It… it was. How long were you standing there?" He raised his head and met the sad glare of his partner.
Starsky crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Long enough to regret asking you to read that letter." He bowed his head briefly then raised it to lock eyes with his friend. "I'm sorry, Hutch. I shouldn't have asked you to do that." Tension was radiating through his body as the shoulders appeared to tighten.
A large crease formed between the blond's brow as he tilted his head slightly. "You didn't order me. You gave me a choice. I made the choice to read it. I am honored you trusted me. Don't ever apologize for sharing a part of your history." The tone of his voice was calm and soothing, yet delivered a very clear message.
Starsky suddenly felt himself drifting to a different time and place. He was laying on a couch with a checkered table cloth around him, Hutch was tying it in place. His friend's face etched with concern and fear. In a flash he was in a wooded area, a young kid, with blond hair, blue eyes, and covered with mud. He lay on the ground before him. Starsky was wrapping what looked like a belt around the boy's blood-covered thigh. "You're gonna be okay, kid… you hear me?"
The sudden touch upon his shoulder and Hutch's presence brought him back from the flashback. Starsky's arms dropped to his side as he gazed with intensity into his friend's eyes. "You were tyin' something around me, red and white… you were scared. Then some kid was bleeding really bad, his leg… I was doin' the same to his leg, but with a belt or somethin'. The kid from before." His body quivered with fear and uncertainty. "I'm beginning to wonder if I really want to remember." Raw honesty and fear emanated from his words. Frustration hovered over each word.
Hutch squeezed his shoulder in comfort. He understood what Starsky meant, but he couldn't sympathize with something he had never experienced himself.
Chapter 15
The night had passed, neither of them slept very well. Starsky was restless for most of the day and attended to the dishes in the sink. Hutch was napping on the couch. As he wiped the last dish and put it into the cupboard, Starsky tossed the towel and glanced at the letter on the counter. He unrolled his blue sleeved shirt and clasped each sleeve as he stared at the envelope. Sighing, he took the letter and cautiously opened it and began to read.
Hutch opened his eyes when he heard the crinkling of the paper. Carefully, he lifted his head and peered at Starsky reading the letter, and then slowly sat up on the couch. He waited patiently. The minutes passed slowly as he turned to note his partner was still reading. The tall blond rose to his feet and shortened the distance between he and his friend. Quietly, he stood near the counter.
Starsky stopped reading, he placed the letter and envelope onto the counter. The expression on his face was etched with sadness. He cupped his mouth with his left hand briefly and sighed very heavily. Bowing his head as though looking at something on the floor, he sighed once again. "Tommy was really troubled." He turned his head slowly to the right to meet Hutch's eyes. "Am I as troubled as he was?" The question was soft, but demanded an honest answer.
Placing his hands onto the counter as though to brace himself, Hutch prepared himself to respond. "No, no, you weren't, Starsk. I mean no you aren't." He cleared his voice in slight distress.
Starsky turned away and stared at the floor again, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter. "Who do you trust… who do I trust?" A sigh was again released. "I lost my memory for a reason… maybe I'm just as messed up as Tommy was, Hutch." The shoulders grew rigid. He spoke through gritted teeth.
Hutch bowed his head and released a long breath. He raised his head slowly. "Starsky, look at me… hey, look at me." Pleading eyes matched the tone of the words.
Starsky dropped his arms to his side and pulled away from the counter and turned to look at his worried friend.
The tall blond closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, there was a renewed sense of confidence that stood behind them. "Who do you trust? Us… like always, Starsk. You and me… you weren't anything like Tommy. The person Tommy described in that letter, is tough, loyal, always… always has my back. You've been through a lot, Buddy." The normally soft voice faltered slightly with pure emotion. "You've been there for me, pal. We aren't perfect, we all have our moments… you've been there for me on many occasions." Hutch smiled faintly and chuckled. "I might say you're crazy, but you are far from that… I only wish that I could take life the way you do." His smile spread widely across his face.
The brunet couldn't help but grin. "Well, when you put it that way… I do trust you." Starsky's memory brought him to a vision of Hutch crying. As quickly as he went, he returned. "You're the bestest friend I got in the whole world." Embarrassed, he turned away.
Hutch's face froze in shock as he stared at his friend. "Starsky?"
Starsky looked at him with a wide toothy grin. "I'm not sure of the details, but I do remember sayin' that to you." He continued to smile. "It's late, let's get settled in, maybe watch a movie."
Chapter 16
At The Pits, Ginger a busty new waitress, wiped down the bar. She glanced around a noticed an elderly woman sitting in a booth. A few other patrons were playing pool. Adjusting her tight Pits t-shirt, she walked over to the old lady. "Excuse me, this is last call."
The woman looked up at the young waitress. She appeared to be exhausted or distraught. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore what looked like hospital janitorial attire. "Thank you, I'll be on my way. Could you kindly call a cab?" She startled when her drink fell over as she reached for it.
Ginger quickly retrieved the glass and pulled the cloth from her apron. "No worries, Honey. I got it."
The woman sat back and wiped away the tears that cascaded from her eyes. "I am so very sorry. I deserve everything I get." She continued to sob. "I shouldn't have gotten involved."
On the table near her purse, Ginger noticed a piece of paper with Starsky's name and address. The paper was now soaked. "I'll get you a cup of coffee and call you a cab." Slowly as to not make it noticeable, Ginger went to the back and entered Huggy's office. The tall bar owner stood from his desk with a perplexed look. Ginger pressed her finger to her lips to symbolize to speak quietly. "Huggy, some old woman is out there, I noticed she has your friend Starsky's name and address on piece of paper. There were two guys with her earlier, one was a sleezy big tipper… what was his name, Stan… Standings. The other guy called him Waddy, or something like that. I told her I was calling her a cab and going to get her a coffee."
Huggy walked around the desk. He grabbed Ginger's shoulders gently. "You stay here, I'll take care of this. Give me five minutes, if I'm not back call the police." Huggy let the waitress go and exited quickly.
As he gathered his composure, he looked around the bar. The only one remaining was the old woman. He made his way to the table. "We are fresh out of coffee, Madam."
The woman blew her nose and looked at Huggy. "There isn't enough coffee or booze to take away the bad I've done." She glanced at the stained paper. "You know him, this David Starsky! I don't personally… but my nephews do… my name is Catarina Standings. I never should have told them about Detective Starsky's condition. I work as a housekeeper at the hospital." Her words were slurred.
Anxiety overtook Huggy, he fought to regain his composure. "Yeah, I know him. I also know your nephews."
Tears formed and rolled down her tired, wrinkled face. "Those boys are up to no good, I know it. I know who you are, they call you Huggy Bear. Truth is, Waddell says you and those two cops are tight. He was angry that I asked them to meet me here. That's why I asked to meet them here. What should I do? I think they are going to do something awful to that police officer and his partner." In her state of drunkenness, she covered her face and cried hysterically.
Huggy ran behind the bar and dialed the phone frantically. "Give me Bay City PD, this is an emergency." He waited with anxiety overtaking every ounce of his body.
Chapter 17
Both men were asleep on the couch. Starsky had his legs propped, one over the other onto the coffee table and Hutch was on the other side in the same position. The TV was soft in tone with the creature double feature beginning a new episode. The phone rang, sending both men into immediate detective mode as they catapulted off the couch. Hutch already had his gun in hand, Starsky stood glaring at him as the phone continued to ring. The blond reached for the phone. "Hello." The look on Hutch's face gave Starsky an uneasy feeling. Hutch listened. "Thanks Captain." He took the handset and placed it onto the cradle. "Waddell Standings and his brother Brett are up to something. Captain Dobey said Huggy called. Their aunt just confessed. He said he'd fill us in once he gets here."
Starsky clenched his fists and looked around. Instincts guided him to his gun hanging in the leather holster. Nervously, with his left hand trembling he retrieved the pistol. His mind wandered once again, visions of handling the gun, how to hold it, how to engage it. It was like a video simultaneously ran through his mind. Hutch watched as his partner's hands maneuvered the pistol like a pro. Starsky looked at the weapon that fit like a glove, then checked for bullets. "I might not know who I am, but I know how to handle this gun." His head rose to meet the tall blond detective's focused glare. "I'll follow your lead, Hutch."
Hutch headed for the door and stopped. "I'll take a look outside. Wait here in case Dobey calls." His gun ahead of him he exited the door slowly and cautiously.
Starsky held his firearm in his left hand tightly. He heard something in the bedroom and headed in that direction, but stopped. Hutch came back through the door with his hands empty. Standing behind him was Waddell with a gun pointed to his back. Hutch's jaw was rigid. Waddell pushed him in, causing him to stumble. "Okay Hutchinson, don't make a move or I will kill you. You hear me, Starsky, don't you make a move or I will kill him." His voice was loud and direct.
Hutch kept his hands open and out to his sides. Starsky nervously twitched his gun. Waddell stood to the blond's side and slammed the door shut. Starsky kept his focus on Hutch's face. Once again flashes of the past came forward, guns being fired. Events of their silent communication in similar situations. A nod, wink or one to the right the other to the left.
Waddell watched the gun palpitate in the brunet's hand. "What's the matter, Starsky, don't remember how to use that thing?" His evil laugh overtook the room and snapped Starsky out of his trance.
Starsky's throat was dry as he attempted to swallow. He stepped back as he heard the noise in the bedroom once again. He now had a complete view of the bedroom door and Waddell. "Hey Hutch, reminds me of the time we played cat and mouse." A mischievous smile formed along with a twinkle in his eye.
The blond suddenly felt a sense of intuition settle in. For the first time in in the past few days he saw clarity in his friend's eyes. They hadn't done cat and mouse in a very long time. "I thought is was Tom and Jerry, Starsk." He winked.
Starsky glanced toward the bedroom door once again then back over to Waddell. "Same difference, the clumsy one and the smart one." A flash from the war overtook him, he fought to push it back. Tommy was ahead of him; the sound of rifles clicking and being fired. Tommy went down. Starsky closed his eyes and opened them to see Hutch pleadingly anchored for his attention.
Waddell poked his pistol into Hutch's side. "You two knock it off. No games, you hear me! No Games!"
The blond detective noticed the change in his partner. "Refresh my memory, Starsky." He kept his voice calm and cool. His eyes locked onto his partner's.
Starsky remembered a time when Hutch went high and he went low. The door was kicked in and a gun was triggered to fire upon opening it. He calmed himself. "Well, it's kind of like one going high the other low, ya know, opposites. One good, the other bad. Smart or dumb, good lookin' versus downright sexy. I always thought you were the good-lookin' klutzy type." He formed a half grin as his eyes averted to the bedroom door once again briefly.
Sirens could be heard in the distance, Starsky once again looked at Hutch. "Tom, Jerry's tired of playin'!" On cue, the blond detective dove to the right and onto the floor as Starsky fired a shot hitting Waddell's handgun out of his hand. Hutch sprung into action and kicked the pistol away from Standings who was holding his hand screaming in pain. Quickly, the tall blond retrieved his python from the injured man's waistband.
The brunet knew things weren't over just yet. The bedroom door swung open with Brett pointing a magnum toward Hutch who now stood between him and the anxious assailant. Hutch held his gun to his side. Waddell was on his knees grasping his bloody hand. "Brett, drop your gun… just drop it, little brother. I'm hurt." Pain and panic emanated from his words.
Hutch glared at the younger man. "Listen to your brother, it's over, Brett."
Starsky remained engaged in his stance. "You heard my partner, kid. There's cavalry less than a block away. Drop your gun."
Brett could hear the sirens, his hand trembled. He looked at Hutch then back to Starsky. "Thought you was mental, Starsky?" He laughed. "I got the upper hand now. You shot my brother and you're going to pay." His thumb pulled the hammer back as he moved his gun toward Starsky. "You shot my brother." His voice overpowered the wailing of the sirens.
Hutch saw the trigger finger on Brett's hand press to shoot. The blond detective stepped forward, and raised his gun and fired. The kid stood there as the weapon fell to the floor. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he collapsed to the floor.
The sound of car doors closing echoed in the background. Waddell bowed his head as a young police officer entered. He assisted the injured man up from the floor and escorted him out the door. Captain Dobey stood behind Hutch in silence. He glanced toward Starsky who was still in the same position. Hutch went to the fallen young man and kneeled next to him. The young man lay lifeless on the floor. Gently he touched Brett's neck to feel for a pulse. "He's dead." Turning he noted his partner's statue demeanor. "Captain, can you give us a few minutes." His voice was soft. Slowly, he stood.
Captain Dobey nodded and motioned for everyone to exit. "I'll be right outside." Clearing his voice, he exited.
Starsky's eyes were now blood-shot, his body trembled. He was between past and present as his eyes blinked rapidly. Hutch approached him slowly and extended his right hand outward. "It's over, Buddy." The long fingers gently extracted the baretta from his friend's quivering hand. Slowly and carefully, he secured the weapon and placed it on the counter. "It's over, Starsk." The words escaped in a whisper. The blond had leaned in toward him.
Starsky blinked several times. He lowered his arms to his side. His focus never leaving the body on the floor. Images of Tommy flashed before him like a slide show. The distraught brunet's mouth attempted to move but made no sounds. Memories rushed through his mind. He attempted to speak again. "He was right. I… I… blame myself. I did everything I could. It still wasn't enough." He was now back to the day he froze. Almost the same situation, just different clothes. "I could have gotten ya killed. He had a gun pointed at ya and I froze." Pressing his lips together, his chin juddered. A tear rolled down his pale, drawn cheek. Watery eyes met his blond partner's.
Hutch bowed his head for a moment and bit his top lip as he looked back up. "Yeah, but, you didn't, Starsky. I'm here, you're here." His eyes searched his friend's face. "Something's telling me you remember. Are you back?"
Starsky wiped the stray tear bashfully away. Pausing, he took a long deep breath. "I'm back, my name is David Michael Starsky, I'm from New York, I call my mother every Friday night at the same time, and you have bad taste in cars." A little color flushed his face as he forced what appeared to be a painful grin. "For the record, you're the clumsy one."
Hutch saw the pain behind the smile at the attempt at lightheartedness. He reached out and pulled his friend to him and wrapped his arms tightly around him. His eyes watered. "I might be that partner… just remember I'm the smart, sexy one." He chuckled. "Welcome back, Starsk. Welcome back!"
Chapter 18
Starsky sat on the back of the couch. A light brown suede jacket was draped next to him. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up half way. He held the handset to the phone to his right ear and listened and smiled briefly. "Hadley, it was good to see you too. Thanks for delivering the letter, it meant a lot to me. Say hello to your Ma. Glad she's improving. See ya." Pausing, he allowed the handset to slide as he caught it with his left hand and hung it up.
Tommy's letter sat on the kitchen table. Starsky's face drew downward as he stood and made his way over to it.
The door to his apartment opened slowly, the tall blond entered holding a six pack and pizza box. He stopped and noticed his partner's slumped shoulders and nudged the door closed gently. "Hey, everything okay, buddy?" His voice was soft.
The brunet wasn't startled. He took a deep breath and continued to stare at the envelope. "I spoke to Hadley; his Ma is doin' better. I… talked to Tommy's folks." A pause and clearing of the throat followed his words. A rub to his chin followed with his left hand as he turned to greet his partner. "Evelyn, Dr. Docker, says I'm good to go back to duty. She's cleared it with Dobey and the department shrink."
Hutch smiled and winked as he made his way to the kitchen. He placed the beer in the refrigerator and put the pizza on the stove. "That is great, Starsk." The smile vanished when he turned to see his partner still looking at the letter.
Starsky sensed his partner's concern and sat back down onto the back of the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't tell ya about Tommy's suicide. It all hit me like a ton of bricks." Starsky adjusted his right sleeve delicately as he lifted his head to make direct eye contact with his partner. "Thanks for stickin' with me."
Hutch brought two plates to the table; he pressed his lips together. "Starsk, that's a part of your life that is personal, difficult and no thank you or apologies are necessary." Gently, he placed the plates down and sighed. "What made you trust me, you know… when you didn't remember?"
A slight tilt of the head and a half-cocked smile appeared. "Your scent." The cobalt blue eyes glimmered as he looked at him.
With his mouth gapped open, Hutch widened his eyes. "My scent?" The tall blond leaned against the counter and pondered over what was just said. "You're going to have to explain that one to me, partner."
Crossing his arms over his chest, the wide smile and tone of embarrassment flushed his cheeks as Starsky thought. "Ya smell like sandalwood, lavender and ivory soap." He raised his eyebrows. "That and ya kinda have that adorable blue eyed innocent boy look. I don't know… ya just – enough with the soapy scene. I just knew."
The tall blond bowed his head and laughed. He knew exactly what his best friend meant. Hutch reached into his back pocket and retrieved what looked like a business card and extended it to his partner. "Just in case you forget who I am."
The brunet examined it and chuckled. "Blintz, you've out done yourself."
The card displayed a picture of Hutch along with his office number, home number and stats. The most important one was, 'In case you forget, I'm your best friend, partner, and I'm the good-lookin' klutzy type. Oh, and you drive a red tomato.'
Starsky chuckled even louder and rolled his eyes. Hutch stood with his hands in his pockets and grinned ear to ear.
The End
Author's notes: Upon the debut of this story in the Starsky and Hutch Fan and Fan Fiction group Advent Calendar, it was brought to my attention that Hutch wasn't a patchouli wearing kind of guy. It was also mentioned that Starsky had possibly mentioned in an episode that Hutch wore cheap Cologne. In either case, I have made some adjustments in an effort to find the correct balance of his scent.
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