It was a rainy day. And cold. The sky was gray; clouds covered every single inch of blue and not a glimpse of sunlight made its way through. Hutch didn't care, though. At least it didn't rain anymore!

Damn the weather! Wasn't California to be sunny and shiny all year? But, no, it had rained all morning and because he hadn't found the right way first, he was drained with water by now, his jeans were also muddy. He looked at them sighing. They were his newest and most expensive ones, he'd bought them particularly for this day. Hutch, as he was called preferably – and we should do him that favor – had decided to go on this special Academy, to become a policeman. And he wanted to leave a good impression. 'Now they will probably think I'm begging for money,' he thought sighing, rolling his eyes upwards to glance at his tousled hair. 'Yep, definitively they'll think so.' But, then, on the other hand who cared what he looked like anyway? Cops had to do a good job and anyway, he thought, like that he fit pretty well into the dull Academy-building.

Hutch began to rub his hands against each other, trying to get at least a few bones of his body warm. But it did other than hurting not much of a difference. What an awful way to start his new life!

Hutch stopped rubbing his hands resigned and shifted a bit in the uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in for what he thought were hours. The movement caused a streak of his blond hair falling into his forehead. He brushed it away unwillingly. Hutch hated waiting when he was nervous and here he was waiting since the morning and no one ever shot him even a glance. Maybe he was still wrong after all, he thought, maybe it was the wrong day or the wrong Academy.

Well, the building really didn't look like the one, he'd pictured in his head. That one had been a nice building with flowers, perhaps with palms. Yeah, palms. Why not palms? He was in Bay City, for god's sake.

But where he was now wasn't nice and decorated with flowers at all. White, everything was white. Alone that fact practically disgusted Hutch and reminded him painfully of the one Christmas when he was seven, he had to spent the whole holidays in a hospital because of a pneumonia. No flowers, no palms, no one laughing, no one making jokes, no one realizing that he was here. Yeah, it was exactly like that hospital.

"Kenneth Hutchinson?"

Taken off guard and interrupted in his thoughts Hutch jumped violently. "What?" Hutch croaked out, whirling around. He did that so hasty that he almost fell from the chair. But he caught himself just in time. Before he raised he had already blushed in deep red. When he did so a tall man, with bushy hair and moustache, looking much like an especially mean garden gnome, faced him.

"Yes, uh, sir?" Hutch questioned, smoothing his own blond hair with a nervous hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Lerner, your boss here. You're a tad too early. Follow me!"

Hutch raised an eyebrow in surprise, but decided not to say anything as he followed the taller man through the corridors. Even if he really was too early, he had expected a nicer welcome. Of course, it wasn't like in all those movies where police cadets were greeted with flags and national hymns as if they were the new, young, professional people who would make the world better. Though, that was just the thing Hutch hoped to do, to make the world a bit better.

Lerner went around a corner, visibly in a great hurry, since he was nearly running. For Hutch with one heavy suitcase in each hand and a bag thrown over his shoulder it was difficult to follow. He almost lost his new boss' sight once as he tried to catch up with him, dropped one suitcase and stumbled over it.

Finally the lieutenant stopped in front of an opened door. He waited impatiently till a panting Hutch was at his side.

"Here's your room. The cupboard is on the left. Unpack. Later you'll hear more," came the short and dry order.

Then Hutch was alone.

All alone.

All alone in that clinical, white room.

Hutch stared down. Even the floor was white. No, not really. It was grayish. That was so much better than white, Hutch thought sarcastically.

Abruptly the door opened.

The blond looked up.

A boy in his age, curly dark hair, eyes twinkling vividly shuffled into the room. He had not half as much baggage with him as Hutch, was the first thing the blond noticed. But that what he had he dropped to the floor and looked at him.

"Is this room 475?"

Hutch nodded silently.

"Hi, I'm Dave Starsky," the boy said, shaking his hand.

"H-hi," Hutch stuttered. "Ken Hutchinson. I'm Ken Hutchinson." He paused a split second, then added – later he didn't remember what made him say this, "Friends call me Hutch."

"Okay." Dave Starsky shoved his suitcases under the small wooden table. He walked over to the window. Bars were blocking out the sight. But nevertheless.. "I like it!" Starsky turned around smiling broadly. "Don't you like it?"

Hutch stared at him. "You like it?"

"Yeah, it's kinda nice. A little bit color in here and it's gonna be heaven…" Starsky glanced around. "Hey, Hutch... can I take the upper bed?"

Hutch stood with his mouth open, then sensing how ridiculous he must look he closed it quickly and said, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Starsky grinned at him and threw himself on the upper bunch, ignoring completely that it shrieked at the sudden put on weight.

Hutch watched. "Hutch it is," he muttered to himself and looking up he found that the walls in the room seemed to be a lot less clinical. Still white, yes, but on the other hand. Who cared about them anyway? With a smile he began to unpack in his things on the lowed bunch, then sun streaking through the window itching his nose playfully.

It was a good start.

THE END... or better, the beginning