Legacy (A What-If story related to the episode Sweet Revenge)
By TLR

Plot: Set 14 years after Starsky's death, Hutch has a surprise visitor on his doorstep.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Hutch forsook the setting up of what the electronics store called a Laptop, in favor of strumming his guitar. The store said it was a tool for people to use on the job, but to him it may as well have been HAL from Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Of course he was familiar with computers and what they could do. BCPD had grown to depend on them. But having one in his home for personal use was an alien idea. What about privacy? How much more of a number would he become?

He could just hear Starsky saying, "Don't worry about it, Blintz. It would take three computers to replace your big brain."

Since he had been a private investigator for the past 14 years, he couldn't very well ask the salesman if it would come in handy in his line of work. But the man was confident in saying it would help "Anyone in any line of work".

"Right," Hutch had said. "Seeing is believing." He was all for tools helping him get the job done better or faster, but not as much for the gadgets as his partner had been.

The laptop could wait. Even the guitar could wait. He set it aside in favor of making coffee from a teakettle, forgoing the intimidating espresso maker on the kitchen counter that had a dozen different buttons on it doing about a dozen different things.

He lived on Pine Street now, a modest little white house in Bay City, 2 bedrooms and a bath, even a little front porch with a swing off to the side and a small deck out back. A picket fence surrounded it all; the kind Starsky always wanted.

Starsky would have had it too, if it hadn't been for the heart attack that took him a year after Gunther's hit. The bullets had done a lot of damage, and, as strong as Starsky was, it was just not meant for his heart to survive all that.

Hutch cherished their last year together. He was no fool. He had a feeling deep down his partner's days were numbered, so, he counted his blessings, made each day count, because that's what you do when your friend's candle flame is going to extinguish sooner than you would like.

Letting him go was the hardest thing Hutch had ever had to do. Letting go was not in his nature, or their nature. Their nature had always been to hang on, hold on, fight, survive, you can make it. Letting go felt like releasing his partner's hand instead of gripping it like he used to. Letting go of him felt like he was letting go of the best part of himself.

Police work wouldn't be the same without Starsky. Not even close. He and whatever damn partner he would be assigned would be walking targets, because his heart, mind, and soul just wouldn't be in it due to the grief he still carried around like a dark shroud.

Something a little less dramatic. Interesting, but no more kicking in doors, busting heads, and catching bullets in your body. That was Starsky and Hutch territory, and best left back there with their young ghosts.

Private investigating was his job now. A slower pace, less use for a partner, which he didn't need or would ever want again. He'd had his partner. He'd lost his partner. The only place his partner lived now was in his heart and soul. He lived a mostly solitary life now, and liked it that way. Or rather, he learned to accept it, which wasn't the same as liking it, but it was okay.

It was just before Christmas, and the residents on Pine Street had their lights, trees, and decorations up, but Hutch hadn't decided if he wanted them or not. Each year it was a struggle deciding. Each year he had to see if he was in the mood. It began with a no, and then, the more he thought about how much his partner had loved the holiday, his no slowly became a yes, and he found himself stringing lights for Starsky. But just the lights. He wasn't going to go overboard with a door decoration or a tree in the window, not even a small one. The lights were okay. The lights were a symbol of the brightness Starsky was in his life.

So, if you asked Hutch if he had moved on from Starsky's death, sometimes he'd say hell no, how do you move on from losing the other side of yourself? Half of him was buried in the ground with him. But he didn't much care. That's just the way it was. It was his life now, and he didn't even want to change it.

But other times he'd say hell yes, because that's what Starsky would want him to do. Hutch had to make himself find the will to go on sometimes. He had to use Starsky's will. But he did that for both of them, because their friendship didn't end with his death. Not their kind of friendship.

Now he walked to the coat closet where he stored the holiday lights and opened the door, and that's when the doorbell rang.

He looked out the peephole first, because as a private investigator, you never know who could be standing there. But it was Sheila Peterson, who used to work in the Child Abuse Division of the BCPD, now working in Juvenile. With budget cuts reducing her staff, she opted for the transfer.

"Hi, Hutch," she said. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"Just fine," he said, but he was more interested in the teenager with her.

"This your son?" Hutch asked. "Grandson?"

"No, he..." She looked at the boy, then back at Hutch. "Hutch, I don't mean to spring this on you. I should have called. But sometimes time is a luxury we don't have. You know that. This boy's mother passed. He has no father or other living relatives. Rather than send him to a foster home or boy's home..."

"No, Sheila," he said quietly as he began to close the door. "I don't do that anymore. Not since Kiko and Molly, and that was a long time ago."

"And they're off doing well. Kiko is a cop, and Molly is a paramedic."

Sheila's hand stopped the door from closing in her face, and she pulled the boy one step closer.

"Hutch, he's Starsky and Kira's son. Gabe. She never told him who his father was. He's fourteen."

Hutch froze as he looked at the dark-complexioned boy with a mop of curly hair and bejeweled blue eyes he knew so well.

His heart leaped. Love and a million strong memories rushed in and stole his breath. He had to step away behind the door and press the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Sheila..." A sob of indescribable joy caught in his throat.

She peered around the edge of the door. "Hutch, I'm sorry. If you don't want to...or can't...I understand. I just wanted you to be first on the list. I wanted you to be the one to give him his chance."

He couldn't speak with a steady voice, so he managed to nod, which brought a smile to her face.

"Thank you," she said. "Call me if I can help in any way."

He gave a second nod, then she went back onto the front porch and talked to Gabe in a low tone, but he couldn't hear what she was saying and he really didn't care.

Sheila had to pull the reluctant boy inside, then she closed the door and left.

When Hutch turned around, he saw the boy standing there with a gym bag down at his side. As if uncomfortable under Hutch's bewildered gaze, he looked away, up at the ceiling.

Hutch cleared his throat and sniffed, then put his hand out, tears shining in his eyes. "Welcome, Gabe."

Gabe ignored his hand.

"Say," Hutch said walking to the kitchen. "Are you a coffee drinker? Or is soda more your thing? How about hot chocolate? Y'know, your dad-"

"I never knew my dad, Mr. Hutchinson. So you can stop talking about him."

Hutch stopped with the teakettle in his hand. "Uh, well, you can call me Hutch, or Ken, but you don't have to call me Mr. Hutchinson. And as for your dad, he was my best friend, so I won't stop talking about him, for you or anyone else."

Gabe gave him a look, then ran his gaze around the furnishings. "Kind of looks like a hippie decorated it."

Hutch half-smiled. "Well, I would have to agree with you on that. My tastes haven't changed all that much over the years. And you didn't really answer my question. Would you like something to drink or eat?"

Gabe shrugged off his jacket and threw it on a chair. "I don't want anything."

"At least you took your jacket off. Make yourself at home."

There was an awkward silence, filled only by the soft ticking of a clock on the wall. Hutch tried again.

"Look, Gabe. I don't expect it to be love at first sight, but-"

Gabe laughed. "You queer? Love at first sight?"

"It's just a phrase, don't take it literally. And no, I'm not queer. Listen. I understand this is hard for you..."

"You don't understand anything. I just lost my mom, and you never even mentioned her, just my so-called dad and I didn't even know his name. But you knew her too, didn't you, and don't lie about it."

Hutch glanced down briefly. "If she told you the truth, then I won't deny it."

Gabe took an angry step toward him. "You calling my mom a liar?"

"No, Gabe. We had our history. The three of us. I'm just...I'm sorry she's gone. We lost touch over the years. But I'm glad you're here now. I really am."

"Oh, so, I'm supposed to be grateful that some guy I've never met wants to play dad?"

"It's not about playing dad," Hutch said softly. "I cared about David-"

"Oh! So David was his name! Well I'm glad she didn't name me after him! I'd hate it!"

"Because of him, I care about what happens to you. I'd like to get to know you better."

"Yeah, sure. Because you were friends with my dad, you think you owe him something. Well, I'm not a charity case."

There was a fire in Gabe's eyes that reminded Hutch so much of Starsky. He went to the coat closet and took out the Christmas lights, looking for the tacks he used to hold them up around the ceiling.

Gabe laughed derisively and crossed his arms. "They're supposed to go outside, dummy."

"Oh, well, I can look at everyone else's lights just by going outside. I like mine where I can see them anytime I want to. Starsky would like these. I didn't call him David often. Just Starsk."

"Starsky. What a name."

"He loved Christmas."

Arms still crossed, Gabe leaned against the wall. "So? I quit Christmas when I was ten years old."

Hutch laughed as he reached up to hang the lights. "He had this ridiculous Santa hat. Wore it every year for a day or two, even when we were cruising the streets. Said it would disarm the bad guys and give us an advantage."

"Stupid."

"And he got me an ant farm one year. And a Venus flytrap."

"What's a Venus flytrap?"

"It's a plant that catches bugs."

"You kidding?"

"Nope."

A flicker of curiosity passed over Gabe's face, quickly masked by indifference. "That's a stupid story."

"Maybe," Hutch conceded with a smile. "But it was Starsky. He found joy in the little things. He would've wanted you to have a real home, Gabe."

Gabe looked away. "I don't need anyone."

Hutch took a step closer. "Maybe not. But everyone deserves someone. I'm not trying to replace your dad. I could never be him in a million years. I just want to be here for you, in whatever way you need."

Gabe's eyes met Hutch's, a range of emotions in their depths. "Why would you even want to?"

"Because," Hutch said, his voice filled with a quiet conviction, "you're his son. And that means you're a part of him. You're his legacy."

"What's a legacy? Why do you have to use weird words like that?"

"I use the words that fit. Legacy is what you leave behind. He left you behind."

"He didn't even know me."

"He was never given the chance."

Gabe looked down. "I don't know the things to say. I'm not good with words like you. This stuff is going too fast."

"I agree. It's fast for me too. But I'll tell you what. When I first laid eyes on you, my heart jumped for joy. This is your home for as long as you want it to be."

Hutch smiled, then turned and continued to string the lights. surprised but pleased when Gabe walked over to the outlet and plugged them in.

Gabe looked over at Hutch's laptop. "Can I use it?"

"I don't even know how to set it up or turn it on."

"I do," he said as he walked over to the end table and began sorting cables.

"I'm a private investigator now, and was told it would come in handy."

"Yeah." As Gabe began hooking up Hutch's laptop, he said, "I found your name and address in some of Mom's stuff after she..."

He wiped a tear away, and Hutch came to sit down next to him.

"When was her funeral, Gabe?"

"Last week."

"Where have you been since?"

"A shelter. They called what's-her-name."

"Sheila."

"Man, I hated that place."

Hutch put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm your shelter now. If you ever want to talk, about anything. Lean on me."

Gabe looked toward the kitchen. "Maybe I will have a hot chocolate."

Hutch went to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate. He started to heat milk in a small saucepan, but Gabe shook his head no and instead put water in the espresso maker. "Makes cocoa too."

As the espresso maker was doing its thing, Hutch showed Gabe to the guest room.

"I wasn't expecting you, so feel free to change it up however you see fit."

"Don't worry, I will."

"We'll pick up some things you want for it. And like I said earlier, make yourself at home. I have to wake up early in the morning for an investigation I'm doing, so, I'll see you then. Oh, and, don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Christmas break."

"Oh, yeah. Guess it is."

::

Gabe drank his hot cocoa, then the house fell quiet after Hutch went to his bedroom and closed the door, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts. As Gabe took the empty mug to the sink, he opened cabinet doors to see what was inside, and found a bottle of brandy.

::

When Hutch woke up the next morning to the alarm clock, he was out of bed and dressing pretty quickly, as he was about to do something he hadn't done in years, and that was go undercover. This time as a hitman hired to kill a doctor's wife.

Captain Joan Meredith had called to ask him to do it, and he said yes. He was to meet with the doctor wearing a wire to record him saying he wanted his wife dead and how much he would pay Hutch to do it. If the doctor offered a down payment, bingo. BCPD would move in and make the arrest.

"Gabe?" Hutch said walking through the house with his gun, holster, and jacket. "I'll leave an extra key under the welcome mat for you."

He hadn't seen the boy as he passed by the open bedroom door.

Then he understood why. Gabe was sprawled on the sofa where he'd been all night, a half-full bottle of brandy on the coffee table.

"Hey!" Hutch said sharply as he shook the boy's shoulder.

Gabe woke up, then sat up, blinking at him as if he'd forgotten where he was.

Hutch picked up the bottle. "What's this all about?"

"Brandy."

"I won't allow underage drinking here."

"Mom let me."

"Your mom allowed a lot of things she-"

Gabe jumped off the sofa and stalked toward the door. "This won't work," he said with his hand on the doorknob.

"Gabe, slow down. You can't just do whatever you want, no matter whose kid you are. I...damn it, I want to adopt you, give you a home, a refuge."

Gabe glared at him. "I wouldn't want you for a father if you were the last man on earth."

"Gabe..."

"Because! I read my mom's diary about you! And how you broke her and Starsky up! You're a jerk!"

Hutch looked at him for a few long moments then said in a quiet voice, "You might be right about that."

He could do nothing else except watch Starsky's child leave his life.

::

Hutch met the doctor in the man's luxury car, but his mind was elsewhere. And that's why he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have when the man kept looking toward his chest for a wire, until the doctor finally grabbed at him. The doctor ripped the wire off, shot him with a snub nose in the upper chest, then shoved him out the passenger door and sped away.

::

Huggy Bear Brown breathed a sigh of relief when Hutch's eyes opened and searched dazedly around the hospital room.

"Sstar..."

Huggy offered a small smile and took the blond's hand. "Still askin' for Starsk. He still ain't here, so I'm gonna have to do. Hutch, I thought your bullet days were over."

"Hug," he groaned, making Huggy wonder why he was wearing such a weak silly smile in his condition. "You should see him."

"See who?"

"Gabe."

"Angel Gabriel? Sounds like you do need an angel Gabriel. And a Raphael. And a Michael. And whoever else they got."

Hutch moved his head no on the pillow.

"No," he breathed scratchily. "Gabe. Starsky's boy."

"Hutch, you out your mind. He doesn't have a boy."

"Kira."

Huggy thought about it, then understanding dawned on him. "Oh. Guess he might have a boy at that."

"Kira, she...she's gone. Cancer. Juvenile brought him to me. But he ran away. I have to find him." He tried to lift his head, and a small cry of pain escaped him. "He..."

Huggy gently pushed him back down and buzzed for a nurse.

"Hutch, I ain't lettin' you go nowhere, and neither will these doctors. Now I'll try to find the kid, but you promise me you'll stay put. You won't be good to him or anyone if you don't take care of yourself first. What's he look like?"

"Starsky."

Huggy nodded. When the nurses came in, Huggy said, "You might have to give this boy a shot. He's trying to leave AHA."

"AHA?" one of the nurses asked.

"Against Huggy's Advice."

::

Huggy was just getting ready to lock up Hutch's house and leave when the door opened and Gabe walked in, grabbing his gym bag and tossing in the clothes he had changed out of the night before.

"I don't know you," Gabe said, "so get out of my way."

"You may not know me," Huggy said watching him, "but I know you. Never knew your dad. Mom just died. You're on the outs. Your guts are cavin' in. I've been there. You think you're the only one? You got something I never had. And that's a guy. A man. That will bleed for you. Help you. Till his last breath. He will give you his life. He's in the hospital right now in bad shape, boy. Now you can stay a kid, or you can be a man. But what you can't do is blame David Michael Starsky for not bein' there."

Huggy brushed past him and went on out with the slam of the door.

Gabe walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where the brandy had been, and still was.

"Not going to any hospital," he said opening the bottle. "To see any man named Hutch."

He carried the bottle to the living room with him and sat down on the sofa, taking a drink now and then, enjoying the burning, numbing sensation as he looked around, seeing a piano, guitar, plants, books, paintings, and other things. Dumb things. Things that weren't his and he didn't care about.

The boy's gaze wandered to the laptop, now humming quietly on the end table. The world of technology was something he understood, a world where he felt in control, unlike the chaos of his own life. He picked it up and began to use the Information Superhighway by way of Navigator, typing in Bay City Detectives Starsky and Hutch.

Click.

He was reading Bay City newspaper headlines and articles, some by reporter Chris Phelps, about the two-man team's criminal cases and dedication, the difference they had made in the city and its people, the lives they had saved. Photos accompanied the articles - Starsky with his plentiful hair and trademark grin, Hutch beside him, blond and serious, both ordinary guys doing extra ordinary things. They were heroes.

As he scanned through the articles, a picture was forming in his mind of the man his father was. A man Hutch still honored through these memories to this day.

He clicked off the browser, then began to roam around the room, eyes drawn to the wooden floor model console stereo, where he lifted the heavy lid and looked inside, sorted through the records, 8-tracks, cassettes, and CDs, seeing an eclectic mix of music that he could take or leave. Mostly leave.

As he started to lower the lid, his eyes caught on a leather-bound journal, lifting a corner of the cover to glimpse handwritten entries he assumed to be Hutch's.

Tugged between respect for privacy and a troublesome curiosity, he went with his fourteen-year-old inquisitiveness and opened the book, promising himself he would just look at a few written by the man who was hellbent on being his father figure.

The entries were numerous, chronicling a life lived in the shadows of danger and friendship, tales the newspaper articles never did tell or could. Gabe began to read, his eyes and mind glued to the pages as he absorbed the stories of Starsky and Hutch, some of them so visceral they made his heart pound and his mouth dry. He kept sipping on the brandy, so wrapped up in the details he couldn't even find a second to sit down.

Hutch as a writer had an understated style. Not dramatic or showy. Just factual. The facts and details needed no flourish. The flourish he left for poetry and song lyrics.

Gabe stood and read. Of the 24-hour death sentence from a poison that was supposed to kill Starsky but didn't, a deluded cult leader named Marcus who had him tortured but was rescued just in time, bullets from James Gunther that he survived, as well as the heart attack that claimed him a year after Gunther. Times Hutch was there for his father.

Then Gabe read other entries, about times his father was there for Hutch. Of when Starsky helped him kick a forced heroin addiction by a mobster, helped him through the loss of his murdered girlfriend Gillian, rescued him from entrapment beneath his mangled car before a killer reached him, nursed him back from a citywide plague, and fought back any bad guy that tried to harm him.

Life and death times they'd had together, plus some funny and moving ones too. Even lines about women. One about his mother, which was: Starsky, Kira, and I. I messed up. Hope he can forgive me.

Gabe's heart throbbed with a mix of emotions. He had never known any side of his father, only the blank absence and the void it had left.

Hutch was offering him a chance at a new beginning. To help him find his place in the world. But why? Why was it so important to him?

Gabe closed the journal and put it back in the stereo console.

That's when the phone rang, and he went to answer it.

"Yeah."

"Is this Gabe? It sounds like Gabe."

"You sound like what's-her-name."

"Sheila."

"Yeah. Sheila."

"I was hoping to find you there. It's...about Hutch. He's taken a turn for the worse. So if he doesn't make it, I'll find you another home."

Find him another home. Like a damn puppy.

He hung up on her. Tears stung his eyes, but he didn't know why. Why did his heart feel like it was breaking? Up till now, it had felt like a fist-size ice cube. Now it felt like a hot mess of anger, anguish, hatred, and pain, and luh...love? Love? He didn't even know the Hutch. Yeah, the Hutch. The hero. The best friend. The big man.

"Damn it!" Gabe shouted as he threw the phone against the wall. "Damn it to hell!"

::

"HUTCH!"

Hutch was out of ICU.

Gabe burst onto the floor they said Hutch was on and ran down the hall glancing from room to room trying to spot him.

"Hutch!"

One nurse started after him. "How old are you, young man?"

Gabe kept running.

"Hutch! Please be here! Where are you?"

The nurse started for a phone to call security, but retired Captain Dobey gently pulled her aside to speak with her.

"Hutch!"

Gabe was panting for breath by the time he spotted Hutch in his room.

"Hutch?"

The boy's cloudburst of rage and heartache had been replaced by worry and love as he ran to Hutch's bed.

"I'm here," Gabe panted. "I made it. Please don't die, okay? I'm proud to be David's son. But I want to be yours too. If you still want me."

Hutch's eyes were halfway open, and he couldn't speak just yet, but he did give a slight nod of his head. And then he could allow himself to rest.

::

"I believe he's waking up."

Hutch's eyes opened with a flutter and he looked around, as if in a haze at first. And then a smile came to his face when things cleared and he saw Captain Dobey and Huggy sitting nearby, while Gabe was standing on a chair draping Christmas lights along the wall with tacks.

"How long have I been out?" Hutch asked groggily.

"Couple days," Gabe said. "In and out. How you like the Starsky lights?"

Hutch mumbled "Beautiful," then looked at Dobey and Huggy. "See my new kid up there?"

"Yes," Dobey said. "We see him, Hutch."

"That's my boy, Gabe."

"Gabe Hutchinson," the boy said. "Soon as we get those adoption papers worked up, right, Hutch?"

Huggy gave Hutch a wry smile. "You're going to have your hands full, mon ami."

"I know," Hutch smiled as winked up at Gabe. "Hey...is Christmas over?"

"Nope," Gabe said. "It's Christmas night. You didn't miss it. Got ya something too."

Finished with the lights, he hopped off the chair and gave Hutch two wrapped presents. "Merry Christmas, Hutch."

Hutch tried to open them, but his weak hands and medicated brain wouldn't cooperate.

"Here," Gabe said, "let me show you."

He unwrapped the presents, the first one being a Venus flytrap.

"I noticed you didn't have one," Gabe said. "So I got you a new one, and me one too, 'cause I think they're cool. And..." He helped unwrap the second, revealing a small aquarium. "Sea Monkeys," he said. "For real."

"Sea Monkeys?" Hutch asked. "Gabe, they aren't real. They're brine shrimp. Starsk had some."

"Gee, Hutch," Gabe said. "You take all the fun out of it."

They were interrupted by a slight commotion out in the hall. A couple of orderlies were dragging a big bag of toys along the floor toward the children's wing.

"Need any help?" Gabe asked them as he went to the door.

"Um, sure. Can you help us pass them out to the kids? We have a lot. It could take a while."

Gabe hurried back to Hutch's bed. "I'll be back."

Hutch nodded and watched him go, a good feeling settling in his heart knowing that he really would be.

The end