BY: Karen B.
Summary: Kiko joins a gang. Angst and h/c Hutch.
Loosely based on the unfilmed script: 'A Day In A Life Of A Cop.'
Disclaim: Non profit dreaming. I do not own the rights to Starsky and Hutch.
Thank you Strut...Thank you, my friend, for spending time with me -- and helping me along with this story!
Dedicated to my friend Pooh -- happiest of days!
Hutch's eyes were closed as he enjoyed the stream of hot water splashing over his tired body, and refreshing his soul. The water here in the police locker room was super hot. He needed that right now. It'd been a long all-niter on the streets of Bay City and although it was one in the morning and the locker room showers weren't the same as home -- he was happy to get rid of the grime.
He'd thought back to how he'd been living in Starsky's car, listening to his partner's trivia for hours. Obscure information like: Rembrandt had died broke. Red is the most commonly colored vehicle involved in accidents each year. 80 of animals on the planet are insects. Until 1870 baseball was played without the use of gloves. People sneeze at about 90 miles per hours. There were more plastic lawn flamingos in the US. than real ones and 52 of Americans drank coffee.
Staring dutifully out the Torino's window, Hutch guessed that tonight he wasn't one of those 52, as he never took a sip from his stale cup of coffee. Nor did he partake in the poisonous bag of fried grape jelly-filled donuts his partner had sitting on the seat between them. They'd been trailing an ex-cop and his ex-wife, who'd decided to become the next Bonnie and Clyde. Knocking off banks and leaving dead people in their wake. Hutch couldn't help but feel it was one of the top ten worst jobs they'd ever been assigned.
Hutch pulled himself from the recent memory, opening his eyes to watch the water swirl down the shower drain. He only wished the dirt they saw out on the street could disappear just as easily.
There were a lot of worsts in the world.
Like: thieves, serial killers and rapist. Bad men on an evil journey -- dragging you to the dark-side of life.
But there were a lot of bests in this world too
Like: music and love -- laughing until it hurt. Good men, best friends willing to take the hero's journey with you -- walking beside you into the dark.
There was no finer moment -- that moment you thought would never come, the moment when you finally got it, broke the case and caught the bad guys. That moment when you looked into the eyes of your partner, and knew everything would be okay.
But right now the best things were the simple things. A simple hot shower, and knowing your best friend would be there with a joke or a smile to ease your troubled mind. Right now that was the best stuff in the world! Right now that was what Hutch needed most, as it had been a long tiring week.
Pressing his hands against the tiled wall, Hutch forgot about everything else, as his chin touched his chest while the water bounced off his head.
"Hey, Starsk, hand me your shampoo -- I'm out," Hutch said, reaching a hand upward and wiggling his fingers nabbing the bottle that was slipped over the shower wall. "Thanks."
"Aren't you done yet, Hutch? Come on. I'm starving."
"Of course you are."
"Besides, you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you stay in there much longer," Starsky complained.
"Prune," Hutch corrected.
"Pumpkin, prune -- come on."
Hutch turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, steam rising off his body and crocodile-sized drops dripping to the tiles. He nabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Hutch flashed Starsky a big cheesy grin as he causally strolled past his partner, who was dressed in only a soggy white bath towel, and staring at himself in the mirror.
"Good morning, buddy."
"Mornin'." Starsky nodded and smiled back.
"Mornin, Silverman," Hutch said as he passed by the older patrolman who'd just gotten out of the shower and had sat down on the bench.
"Mornin, Hutch," Silverman said, now digging through his duffle bag.
George Silverman was one of the oldest patrolmen on the force. He was tall, thin, and graying with light brown puppy dog eyes. Hutch liked the man. He was an excellent cop and a good husband, and the man who introduced him to the big brother program.
"How's it going, Silverman?" Hutch asked as stepped past the older patrolman to get to his locker.
"Just dandy, Hutch," Silverman said, still rummaging through his bag.
"Hutch," Starsky said. "You know last night I was reading everyone's tongue print is different. Just like fingerprints. Why do you suppose we don't dust for tongue prints?" Starsky asked as he shoved his toothbrush into his mouth and started to vigorously scrub up and down --back and forth.
"I don't have a clue, Starsk." Hutch shrugged as he shut his locker and sat on the bench next to Silverman.
"That's my point, Hutch," Starsky gargled, spit and rinsed. "When we don't have a clue and a thumbprint doesn't' show up -- why wouldn't we try to get a tongue print?"
Hutch yawned and rolled his eyes at his partner. "Starsk, it's too early for this. All I'm thinking about is heading home to crash."
"What? I thought we'd go get some dinner." Starsky bounced from one foot to the other.
Hutch rubbed his eyes." Not hungry. Besides, breakfast is in a few hours," he said pulling a shirt over his head.
"How's your wife, Helen?" Hutch turned to ask Silverman trying to ignore his over active partner.
"It's Rose," Silverman politely corrected, and she's doing fine, thanks."
"Hey, Silver," Starsky piped in. "Did you know 90 percent of all people put their left sock on first?"
What?" Silverman looked to see that in fact he was about to put his left sock on first.
"Does he always -- ahh -- ahh --" Silverman suppressed a sneeze. "Does he always babble like that?" he asked Hutch.
"You have no idea," Hutch drawled.
"You know," Starsky hurriedly said. "If you sneeze too hard you can break a rib, and if you hold back one you can rupture a blood vessel in your head or neck and die?"
"Are you serious?" Silverman shuddered, and twitched his nose.
"You'll have to excuse my partner -- he's the master of useless information."
"Hey, it's not useless. And trivia is a hobby of mine. I have the right to--"
"Remain silent," Hutch butted in.
"Least I'm not on the health food bandwagon -- like Blondie there," Starsky said, as he stared at his reflection and combed his hair. "A couple hot tamales and a hot pickle would do you some good, Hutch. Put a fire in your step and --"
"And in my gut, Starsky."
"Hutch, you're such a hypocrite. If you were truly into the health-nut phase you'd be showering with bottled water -- not that polluted chlorine based stuff they shoot out at you."
"Tap water's fine, Starsk," Hutch said, nabbing another towel and drying his hair vigorously.
"Don't mind Starsky, Silver. He's just grumpy because he hasn't had a shower since last week." Hutch gave a disgusted snort, as he shucked into his corduroys.
"Blow me, Hutchinson. You know I got the plumber coming over tomorrow. My drain is clogged"
"Not as much as your brain," Hutch whispered in Silverman's ear.
"What's that?" Starsky asked.
"Nothing, Starsk. I was just telling Silver here next time you might have to shower in the rain."
Hutch and Silverman shared a laugh.
"Funny guys," Starsky muttered, as he moved toward his locker and reached in and pulled out a pair of faded Levis, a red tee shirt, a leather belt, a pair of socks, and laid them on the bench beside him.
"Hey, where the hell are my shoes?" Starsky asked, as he dug around in the bottom of his locker.
Hutch snickered and winked at Silverman as he pulled a blue tee shirt down over his head and bent to shove his feet in his shoes.
"Hey! I saw that, Hutch."
"Saw you wink."
"Where are my shoes?" Starsky demanded.
"You mean the stinky old blue ones with the white stripe?"
"Adidas, Hutch. They're Adidas."
"Starsk -- I hate to be the one to tell you this -- but I think they walked off."
"They're on stink."
"What'd you mean?"
"I mean strike, Starsky."
Hutch knew the good-natured jokes he and Starsky played on one another was as much a part of their friendship, as was their deep seeded devotion and willingness to lay their lives on the line -- each for the other. They served to ease the tension and stress they so often felt out on the street.
Hutch cracked a smile as he pointed toward the cieling. All three men looked upward at a pair of blue shoes, laced together and strung over a water pipe.
"Damn it, Hutch." Starsky let his towel drop to the floor. "Not again," he muttered as he walked butt naked toward the cleaning closet and brought out a stepstool.
"Just getting you back, Starsk for last week when you swapped Lemon Heads for my vitamins.
"What is this? High school gym?" Silverman smiled.
"Yep, and the dodge balls in my court now," Starsky laughed.
"You guys take that act wherever you go?" Silver shook his head and laughed.
"For the last seven years -- right partner?" Hutch playfully snapped a towel across Starsky's bare behind, as he climbed the stepstool.
"Ouch," Starsky yelped just as he snagged his shoes from the pipe. "Seven glorious years."
"You know they have programs to help guys like you two," Silverman couldn't stop laughing.
The sweaty locker room behind them now, Hutch listened to nothing but the roar of the wind as it zipped past his ear. The lights of the city seemly floated by and the exhaust and pollutants of the day appeared to be blown away by the approaching dawn.Hutch continued to gaze out the Torino's window. He took in a breath, and for a moment the grime and filth of the inner city was hidden behind the soft blanket of night, and everything looked at peace. Not a car on the road, not a soul in sight, no killing, no screaming, no nothing. Nothing except the fact he noted his partner was clipping along at too fast a speed.
Hutch turned away from the open window and glanced at Starsky's speedometer. "Hey, partner," Hutch gently called out.
"Wha?" Starsky looked up from his steady gaze on the road.
"You better slow her down, something tells me the cops in this area don't like it when they clock you going twenty-five miles over the speed limit," Hutch cracked.
Starsky looked down at his gage and eased off the gas. "Just want to get home," Starsky said, sounding tired. "I'm beat."
"Now your beat? Thought you were hungry?"
"That too," Starsky said, glancing at Hutch with a smile on his face. "I got leftover pizza, Hutch, want to come in and --"
Suddenly there was a loud thump as something hit the windshield, cracking the glass. "What the hell!" Starsky yelled, quickly pulling over to the side of the road. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, Starsky watched the crack in the glass as it spider webbed. "Shit!" he smacked his balled fist to the steering wheel in aggravation. "Must have been a rock kicked up by my tire."
Hutch glanced around the area feeling something was not right.
"Guess I'll be making a trip to Merle's shop tomorrow," Starsky sighed heavily.
Hutch turned to Starsky and said, "Yeah well -- Ouch!" Hutch felt a sting to the side of his temple.
"Get out of here, pigs!" Came the sound of young men's laughter, as a loud banging sound reverberated through the car.
"What the --" Starsky looked out the cracked windshield.
"There," Hutch pointed a finger toward a lamppost where four teens dressed in white tee shirts and torn denim, danced about excitedly, chucked rocks at the Torino.
"Shit! My car!" Starsky belted out in a homicidal tone. "Lousy punks! Who the hell --" Starsky started to open the car door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"No, Starsk, just wait --"
"Why?" Starsky turned toward Hutch. "Those punks just broke --" Starsky gasped, and sat bolt straight. "Hutch, you're bleeding." He frantically fumbled around on the seat next to him. Finding a napkin, he raised his hand and pressed it against Hutch's right temple.
Starsky pulled the napkin away and looked relieved to see only a light bloodstain. "Son of a bitch." He dropped the napkin and reached up under his leather jacket and drew his gun. "When I get my hands on those --"
"Hey!" Hutch's hand stopped him again. "Starsky! Wait!" Still feeling something was deeply wrong, Hutch narrowed his eyes as he got a closer look at the teens. His keen eye for the element of detail made him stiffen. "Kiko!" Hutch glanced over at Starsky with shock stricken eyes. "One of those punks isn't a punk-- it's Kiko, Starsk."
"Kiko? Hutch, you sure?" Starsky leaned across Hutch to get a better look. "It's Kiko," he confirmed. "What's he doing with those morons, this late at night?" Starsky shook his head took a deep breath, and moved for his gun again.
"Get out of here, pigs! This is our turf." Next came more laughter, the boys no longer pitching rocks but showing off their middle fingers.
The teens bounced around in a carefree tribal dance, taunting and daring the two men in the car to give chase, as they jumped upon their skateboards and sped away into the night. Hutch's heart sank like a shiny new penny falling silently through the dark waters of an old wishing well. He had made a wish to become a big brother. To change someone's life for the better and now that wish seemed to have vanished.
Starsky once again moved to exit the car, gun still in hand.
"Starsky, no. It's Kiko. Lose the gun," Hutch pleaded as he pulled the big brother card. "Okay?"
"Hutch, we don't know who he's with. They may be just kids with rocks, but they can be just as dangerous as a thief with a gun, partner."
"Starsky, he's my little brother," Hutch protested again.
"Blondie, this ain't no nursery rhyme. Didn't your mother ever tell you Humpty Dumpy didn't fall -- Hutch, he was pushed." Starsky raised a brow. "Kiko's been pushed. He's hanging with a gang out on the streets after curfew, tossing rocks, challenging authority, smashing your partner's windshield, and what about your head? Who do you think told those kids we were cops? Who knows what else they might be into? I'm sorry, partner."
"Okay. Okay, look." Hutch tried to calm his beating heart that wanted to bust out from behind his ribcage. "They headed toward Waterloo. It dead ends into an alley. We can corner them. I gotta get to him, talk to him, Starsky. His mother told me last week something wasn't right. But this." Hutch waved a hand at the cracked glass. "I should have done something sooner. Hutch said, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling guilt charge through him.
"Okay, but we take our guns, Hutch."
"Safety on." Hutch kept his voice dead flat.
"Safety on," Starsky agreed, putting the car in gear and, swerving away from the curb.