A Hero and an Angel

2K

Hutch goes undercover with a rookie cop. Will the young kid save the day or slay it?

 

Thank you Pooh for your belief in me, and all your help!
*Dedicated to my Ol’ friend Pooh Bear. Happy Birthday!
And Hutchlover–thank you for your extra deep dusting and sweet support. You’re good people!

---

There was a definite chill in the night breeze, one that whispered the ever present black and white mantra of a cop’s life:

At any given moment, in any given place, at any given time, you could be called upon to put your life on the line.

Hutch felt a cold sweat break out over his body. Or maybe that was the light drizzle of rain. All he knew for certain was that one wrong move and they’d both be dead. Just because he was a cop didn’t mean he never got scared. You saw things, things that brought all the bad stuff in the world right up into your face. Tonight he and his fellow officers would be put through that test once again. Standing on Pier One under a floodlight, Hutch scanned the two men in front of him.

“You two alone?” Harper, the largest man asked, taking one last drag of his cigarette, he breathed smoke out his nostrils, dropping the butt to the pier, and crushing it beneath his foot.

Hutch looked over his shoulder to check on the man standing right at his back.

Brad Turner was a young wiry officer with plenty of enthusiasm. His bleach blond hair only added to the boyish face of inexperience. Yet, there was a slick intelligence and with most of the department out with the flu, Starsky had been unable to go under, as he’d busted Harper four years ago while Hutch was out of town. It may have been risky and foolish, but Brad wanted the chance so badly, he screamed for the opportunity to partner up with Hutchinson, and Dobey ok’ed it. There was a heart tugging way the kid had of pleading his case for the chance to do some real undercover detective work.

Hutch really didn’t feel secure having a rookie cop for an undercover partner. The kid wasn’t incompetent, just inexperienced This wasn’t a classroom full of chalkboards, desks, and wastepaper baskets. This was the hard-core streets of Bay City with its shadowed doorways, dark stairwells, and rickety old piers, where drug deals were made and lives were lost.

“We’re alone,” Hutch said, looking back at Harper and the burly goon who stood by his side.

Harper was the point man for a stellar jewelry hawking ring that had been set up in Bay City. It was a new gig. The master plan and Harper’s motto:

‘You never get what you pay for.’

Some of Harper’s clients suddenly seemed to disappear after the buy. They’d order their merchandise, pay full price, then the trouble would come. The man was clever. If he didn’t hit them on the spot, he had a car hiding in the shadows ready to follow the buyer and burn them when they least expected it. Having his cake and eating it too. Most of the dirt heaped on Harper was supplied by Starsky and Hutch’s trustworthy friend, and snitch Huggy Bear.

“Harper’s one smooth package, a sweet roll with a side of chips.” Huggy had informed. “And when he’s done here he’s moving on to the next town.”

Huggy was right, the guy was all that and more. Hutch watched over as Harper opened the case of fine jewelry, spotlighting his most recently acquired merchandise.

“That all you got?” Hutch asked sharply.

“That’s right. Now show me yours,” Harper snarled.

Hutch stepped closer. “Soon as I verify the merchandise,” he said, reaching for a sparkling diamond studded necklace.”

Harper snapped the lid on the brief case shut. “Let’s see the money!” he growled.

Hutch glanced over at Turner. Sweat dripped down the young officer’s face and his eyes were wide. He looked like he was scared, like he might snap. Maybe reach for his gun, or make a run for it.

“You’re wasting time, Harper,” Turner said, his voice holding strong, but Hutch could see the slight shake in the young officer’s hand as he opened the duffle bag he’d pulled off his shoulder. “Here you go.” Turner handed the bag to Harper’s goon who began to count the money.

Hutch started to worry his partner was right about the kid. He recalled the way Starsky shot out of his chair in Dobey’s office at the very mention of Turner accompanying him on the sting instead of a more experienced officer.

“You knew about this?” Starsky questioned Hutch. “Shrewd, Hutch. You were going to keep it a secret until show time, huh, buddy?”

“Starsky. It’ll be okay.” Hutch gave a small nod.

Starsky shot a glance around the room. All and sundry seemed to be on the same page but him.

“Terrific. Everybody loves the clambake–except the clam.” Starsky sarcastically mumbled under his breath.”Look, kid, I know you want to go with this,” Starsky had said. “But you don’t have the skills to manage this operation. If this isn’t done right, you and Hutch could end up dead. Captain,” Starsky pleaded.

“Sergeant Starsky, ” Turner nosed his way in. ” It’s not my fault we are short staffed or that you have a sizable fan base on the streets, keeping you from going under. I can handle this.”

“So you think you can dance? “Starsky’s expression was hard to read. “Maybe you can do the merengue or the salsa or even the jitterbug, but what goes on out there–” Starsky jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Out on the street. It ain’t so well choreographed, you dig?” he argued on. “This ain’t no kiddie show, kid.” Starsky glared at Dobey hoping he’d see things his way.

“Captain Dobey,” Turner said in a calm voice. “I know this isn’t a kid’s show. There are no magic hats, no white rabbits or doves. It’s the real deal. One that can blow up in your face if you don’t play it right. I may be new, but I promise you; I’ll come up aces!” Turner was all hope and promise.

Starsky could tell there was no bullshit with this kid. He could see the will in his eyes. He crossed his arms, one foot tapping on the floor, completely uninspired. Starsky couldn’t let the kid know he was getting to him; only half-convinced by the kid’s flashy words.

“Awe, come on Starsk, he’s kinda cute,” Hutch wise-cracked.

Starsky shot Hutch an evil glare. “Cute– my ass.”

“Starsky, your ass has nothing to do with it.” Starsky narrowed his eyes at his smart aleck partner. Hutch grinned. “Kid’s like a bouncy new puppy in training. Don’t worry buddy, I’ll keep him on a short leash.”

“Don’t get your feelings hurt here, kid–” Starsky said, advancing toward Turner. “But we need a higher ranked officer on this.”

Brad stared Starsky down, sensing what was coming, but prepared to take it. The two detectives before him had made a deep impression on him from the first time he met them when he joined the department four months ago. Right off he sensed their friendship and the huge bond with one another. The way they always had each other’s back. Even in the simplest of things, like sharing one another’s lunch.

“Turner, I’ll be damned if I’m going to trust my partner’s life in the hands of some rookie cop who’s only looking to get his foot off the bottom rung of the ladder,” Starsky snipped, causing Hutch to cringe at his partner’s fly off the handle words.

“Whoa!” Brad interrupted, feeling hurt by Starsky’s mean-spirited backlash. He took two steps forward, standing toe to toe with the offending man, and looking the heated officer right in the eye.

Hutch had to smile. The kid was young, but intelligent. Confident, aware and determined to do things right. He was a fighter. Anyone who could stand up to his partner’s protective anger without flinching or batting a lash, was a real scrapper in his book. Hutch had his doubts about the kid too, but was fully aware this had to be done.

“Starsky! Cool it!” Captain Dobey flared, never one for the soft shoe and tap numbers. “You’re sitting back on this one.” He pointed the eraser end of a pencil in his detective’s direction. “I don’t have a choice here.” Dobey softened. “This is going down tonight or it’s not going down at all. I have too many officers out with the flu, and–”

“Just so you know Sergeant Starsky–” Brad Turner jumped back in to plead his case. “I may be a rookie cop, but I’m not stupid. I’ll be as loyal to Sergeant Hutchinson as any. Doing what he asks me to–within the confines of the law, and backing him up. Trust me on that.”

“Trust?” Starsky eyed the kid before him. He wasn’t sure he’d trust his own mother where Hutch’s safety was concerned.

None of the arguments were solid in Starsky’s eyes. Yet, deep down, he held a certain respect for the young officer. Brad Turner had heart, but when push came to shove would he really give up his own life if it meant saving his partner? Turner was one of the hardest-working in the department and one of the youngest. There wasn’t anything the kid wasn’t willing to do or learn. He was respectful, and came with high praise from his co-workers, but he was fresh as a daisy in springtime, and that was enough to make Starsky shudder.

“How many pairs of eyes you got, huh, kid?” Starsky asked, a weasel of a smile on his face.

“Pft–one,” Brad swiftly answered, with honed boredom, as if it were the dumbest question in the world.

“Wrong!” Brad gave Starsky a quizzical look. “You have three.” Starsky pointed to the kids’ eyes. “This pair sees through that bulge in a jacket before the gun is ever pulled. This pair–” he jabbed two fingers on either side of the kid’s head. “Sees the victims and innocent civilians on the street.” Starsky slowly walked behind the kid, jabbing his fingers into the back of Turner’s head. “And this pair here, keeps your partner safe.

Starsky walked over and leaned against Dobey’s desk, making eye contact with the heavy set man. His captain obviously trusted Turner. Trusted him to learn on the job. Trusted Hutch to oversee his every move. It didn’t make him feel any better, but deep down Starsky knew his Captain didn’t have much choice.

“Starsk,” Hutch stepped into the ring, not wanting his partner pitted against their acting superior. “The kid is blind with loyalty. I trust him. Don’t worry, I know how to be a big brother, this is going to get done right.” Hutch knew the signs of a scared partner, striking out with fear. What it came down to was the job needed to be done, and they all worked for the good guys. Starsky was just testing the kid. “Come on Starsky. Dobey’s okay with it.”

Starsky frowned not taking his eyes off their captain. “Your partner isn’t.”

” Stars.” Hutch came to stand next to Starsky giving his shoulder a pat. A look of mutual trust flew between the partners’ eyes. “Me and him,” Hutch gestured with his head toward Turner” We’ll be fine.”

“You and him, huh?” Hutch detected a note of jealousy in his partner’s tone. “I don’t see no suit of armor on your back, Hutch,” Starsky cautioned. “And him–” he jerked a thumb Turner’s way. “He ain’t got pearly white wings. Trust is one thing. Experience is another.”

“Hey, don’t forget, we’ll have you and Dobey backing us up in the Torino. Under your watch what could go wrong?” Hutch smiled.

“What couldn’t?” Starsky breathed out, seeming to back down and relax a bit.

Hutch wasn’t certain Starsky bought that argument fully, wasn’t certain even he bought it. All Hutch knew was he had confidence in his partner’s ability. Starsky would bust tail to get to him when and if Hutch needed him to.

“Come on partner, I’ll owe you one. Let this slide.” Hutch winked. “It’s like learning to play the guitar, or doing your multiplication tables, Starsk. Can’t get any better at it if you don’t practice.

“This isn’t a homework assignment.” Starsky raked a hand through his thick curls deep in thought. “Yeah, okay,” he said taking a step back from the desk. “But if this goes down wrong–” his eyes darted between Hutch and Turner. “You two are gonna owe me a couple tickets to the World Series.”

Brad’s face lit up. His smile not screaming promotion, but of the high respect he had for these two seasoned detectives and the chance to learn and work by their side. “I’m your man,” he said with pride, “I won’t let any of you down.”

“See that you don’t,” Starsky grumbled, giving the kid a firm pat to the back.

******************************************************************************************

A stronger breeze came off the harbor, along with it the rain grew heavier. It quickly soaked through Hutch’s flannel shirt, bringing his thoughts from Dobey’s office, back to the now rocking pier. The goon before him had just finished his count of the money, and zipped the duffle bag shut.

“It’s all there,” the man smiled, but something in his eyes made Hutch uneasy.

Harper handed the jewelry case over to Turner. “Pleasure doing business.”

Hutch shuddered, thinking if this did go sour, Starsky would own the guilt for the rest of his life. They turned to leave. Hutch searched his right, the darkness blinded him, but he knew his partner and Dobey were there. Watching, readying to move in. Suddenly something slammed into the back of Hutch’s head, and he lost his footing. The impact forcing him to his hands and knees upon the wooden deck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harper said.

His rough textured hand grabbed Hutch’s hair and jerked his head back up, pressing the cold nozzle of a gun into his temple. Hutch was dazed, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Harper’s goon draw his weapon, and aim it at Turner. The kid hardly had the chance to get his hands dirty when the deal careened out of control, going bad faster than a carton of milk sitting in the heat of the desert sun.

“Some treasures are better left buried,” Harper laughed, nodding a signal to the goon next to him.

“You can watch the kid die first, then you’re next, Blondie.” Harper laughed, giving the signal to his hired hand to pull the trigger.

“Why you lousy–” Turner started, when the goon with the chrome pistol pointed at him, pulled the trigger.

************************************************

Starsky sat in the driver seat, fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel, while waiting for the meeting to take place. He didn’t like being cut off from his partner, and he certainly wasn’t used to not being center field. Letting some newcomer be the one to slow dance with his partner. As worried as he was, however he couldn’t stop his stomach when it grumbled loudly, breaking the silence.

Dobey’s gaze shifted from the window to Starsky, watching him reach across his belly, and open the glove box.

“Excuse my reach.” Starsky rifled around a moment before producing a Twinkie.

“What is that?”

“Sustenance, Cap. Haven’t you ever been on surveillance before?” he smiled.

“Starsky,” Dobey groused. “Where do you think the extra calories came from?” Dobey tapped his protruding belly.

Starsky’s smile faded at the image of himself ten years down the road. He sighed, suddenly not so hungry, handing the package to his Captain instead. “Here, Cap, enjoy.”

“Why, thank you, Starsky.” Dobey smiled with delight, taking the offered sweet readily.

Shaking his head in dismay, and fighting back another round of stomach grumbles, Starsky went back to tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hutch doesn’t need to be out there training a rookie in the middle of the action.” Starsky glanced at Dobey who said nothing, as he stuffed the last of the Twinkie into his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have sent him out there with Turner if I didn’t think he could handle it.” The captain spoke around the food in his mouth.

Starsky turned back to watch Hutch and Turner as they scampered toward the pier amid the raindrops that had started to lightly fall. As they drew further away stalking the edge of the shadows, Starsky picked up his binoculars off his lap.

“I don’t like how this was put together,” he mumbled again now able to see the two undercover men standing under a dim floodlight waiting for their contact.

Starsky had wanted the kid to wear a wire, but it was decided that would be too chancy. Harper was known for checking everyone for such devices. Hutch and Turner weren’t far out of reach, but with no communications and not being at his partner’s side; Starsky felt Hutch may as well be a world away. If it went down fast like Harper sometimes liked, it would be a hardscrabble for he and Dobey to get there on time.

Starsky sighed, cutting his eyes over to Dobey, then back again to the darkness. “You know, if Harper decides to take a potshot at them, we won’t get there on time.”

“Starsky, you know the nature of Harper’s game. He likes the buyer to think they’ve gotten away with the bait before he reels them in.”

“Not always the case.” Starsky was uptight, never taking his eyes off Hutch as he spoke. “You got the power to freeze the action, Captain?” Starsky swore under his breath, pounding a palm against the steering wheel.

“Starsky!”

“Sorry.” He lowered his voice.

Captain Dobey rubbed at his eyes. Starsky’s worries were his as well, and only fueled his concern, and his appetite. But, Dobey was at odds with the facts. Fact. According to reliable sources the man was about to bolt to the next town. Fact. He killed his buyers shortly after they’d forked over their money, reclaiming his treasure, and keeping the cash. Fact. In Harper’s attempts to reclaim his prize he’d killed several innocent bystanders. One a twelve year old girl who got in the way of his speeding bullets. It was important to stop the man before anyone else was killed.

“Starsky, I’d be concerned if you weren’t concerned. But like it or not, we can’t take this lying down. We have to stop Harper. After the exchange all we can do is make every minute count.”

Dobey squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He knew the danger he’d asked his men to face, and he never enjoyed sending them under. “Besides,” he added. “They’re both top-notch men. It’s their job,” Dobey said, using one hand to rub at his stiff neck.

“It’s not my partner’s job to play wet nurse,” Starsky bristled, watching the baby-faced virgin through his binoculars.

“What was that?”

“I said, yes sir, it’s their job.”

The kid seemed forthcoming. Seemed like he didn’t do anything in half-steps. He took things on wholeheartedly, and did the job because he loved it. What worried Starsky were the ups and downs of said job. Did the kid truly know what that meant? It bothered Starsky that Turner welcomed the spotlight so readily, while Starsky had learned it was best to avoid that stage. Undercover work took an elite combination of wit, daring and instinct. Starsky guessed that all came with time and age. After you played a couple shows you understood the demons on the street better.

A dense fog had rolled in making it hard for Starsky to see, but there was no mistaking the glare of headlights as a car pulled up not far from where Hutch and Turner waited.

“Okay, Cap. Harper’s here.”

“How many?”

“Two, I think.”

“Great,” Dobey muttered. He watched Starsky’s shoulders go rigid from what was certain to have grown out of fear for his partner. “Be calm, David,” Dobey expressed softly. “Hutch knows what he’s doing.”

Starsky looked up from his binoculars. When had his superior started calling him David?

Not saying a word, Starsky took a minute to scan the boarded up factories in the distance, with their broken out windows and dilapidated structures. He hoped a sniper wasn’t hiding in the shadows of the empty husks, as he remembered the faded chalk drawings of Harper’s previous buyers. He shivered, quickly getting Hutch and Turner back into view. Harper had just had both officers raise their shirts. A telltale sign they were checking for wires. Starsky held his breath, then let it out. He was glad he’d suggested Hutch and Turner carry smaller pee shooters, keeping them hidden in their socks.

“What?” Dobey asked nervously, seeing Starsky shudder.

“Nothing. They’re good.” Starsky took in another breath. “You know, Captain,” he began, trying to ease his stress. “This is the perfect place to film one of those zombie movies.”

“Starsky, we don’t need zombies getting in between us and our boys.”

“Captain–don’t you watch those–” Starsky stopped talking, using his left hand he sharpened the focus. He watched through the binoculars. “Okay, they have the money. Let’s move in.” Starsky tossed the lens to the seat.

“Starsky, wait, we can’t go bumbling in there with guns and sirens blazing. We could lose them both.”

For one fraction of a second Starsky hesitated, taking in a quick sharp breath. “Not about to lose either one of them,” he said. Finishing his reach for the keys he started the Torino’s engine and peeled out, leaving behind a huge cloud of dust and dirt.

************************************************

There was a loud click, but no loud bang, no register of pain, or gushing of blood. Turner’s body jerked in surprise, recovering quickly from the misfire. Not sparing a thought, the young officer moved on adrenaline and instinct. Forgetting the goon whose gun had failed, he flung himself at Harper. Imagining himself invisible as he grabbed for the gun that was pressed against Hutch’s head, hoping his luck wouldn’t run out.

Turner was able to knock Harper’s hand away from Hutch, but the sound of a cannon being fired rolled and echoed around the pier. He wrestled with Harper on the wooden dock, both fighting like dirty bar brawlers.

Hutch was knocked to his side, feeling the heat of a bullet skim across his forehead. For a moment everything went black, but adrenalin and willpower brought him to his feet. He knew the gun blast would send his meager backup troops into battle. He also knew the kid had just put himself into a position he wouldn’t be able to handle. Without delay, Hutch dove toward the goon whose gun had misfired, knocking the weapon from his hand before he could try shooting it again. He yanked the man by the shirt, and raised a fist, but his feet slipped on the wet dock, sending him and the gunman over the edge of the pier into the chilly harbor.

Hutch gulped in a mouth full of water as he pitched about, struggling with both the current and the beefy man. Hutch felt the scared man’s fingers wrap around his throat and pull him under like lead weight. Hutch gripped at those fingers, trying to pull them off. They sank deeper into the shadows of the harbor, he could feel his stomach cramping, and his lungs burning. He held tight to his breath, impulsively feeling the need to draw in air. Just as exhaustion was about to take over, Hutch had gotten control and they both came up, sucking in air desperately. The goon, terror stricken, scratched and clawed at Hutch’s jacket and face. Anything to keep afloat.

“I can’t swim! I can’t swim,” he gulped in water and air simultaneously.

“Calm down, don’t panic.” Hutch instructed, trying to get a hold of the man, but his own limbs felt heavy and his thoughts began to windmill from the bullet that grazed his forehead.

Bad guy or not, a cop never let someone just die, yet fear knotted in Hutch’s belly. This man was going to drown them both, as he continued to flail, trying to find some sort of hand-hold on Hutch. But all the goon’s fighting had done was to pull him and Hutch under the water, time and time again.

Hutch began to feel his body tingle. A sign that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He could feel the scratches on his face and arms burning, from fingernails that tried to grab on. “I can help you,” Hutch coughed up seawater. “Just get off me, and relax.”

The man’s eyes were piercing, and they were the last thing Hutch saw before the drowning man surrendered, his cries silenced, as he slipped below the surface, alone. Weakened, Hutch could only watch, trying to keep himself treading water. The harbor was pitch-black around him. His lungs hurt and he choked and sputtered; the saltwater stinging his eyes, open head wound, and burning the back of his throat.

Only a few moments later, weary, dizzy and hurting, Hutch closed his eyes, also surrendering to the harbor. He sank downward into the ghostly depths, calling out to his partner. The words were silent, altered into muffled bubbles, as he swallowed down water.

Suddenly a hand was there, yanking him upward toward the surface. The last thing Hutch heard was the familiar high-pitched siren of the Torino, he tried to catch a breath, but instead drew in a gulp of saltwater.

************************************************

Within minutes the Torino was on the scene. With guns drawn, Dobey and Starsky made short work of getting to the pier. Glancing around, Starsky’s face showed confusion as he quickly spotted Harper unconscious and face down with his hands cuffed behind his back. The money case and jewel case by his side.

Dobey quickly moved toward Harper, quickly noting the man was completely out and not about to go anywhere.

“Hutch!” Starsky yelled, his pulse racing, while a deep sense of fear lodged in his gut. The area was silent and the floodlight above him eerily cast shadows against the dock. “Captain, do you see them?”

“No.” Came the answer.

Starsky’s skin prickled. Seeing a dark stain on the wood, he bent down.

“I got blood.” Starsky looked up at his captain. In less than a half minute he played through a dozen scenarios, before an epiphany snapped him into action, as Starsky raced toward the edge of the dock.

“I’m calling for an ambulance and more backup–” Dobey said, turning quickly and heading toward the car.

“We’re here!” A disembodied voice called from the dark and murky water before Starsky could even get a shoe off. “Over here,” Turner sputtered.

Starsky searched, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Where?” he hollered into the night, barely holding himself together; his fists clenched, knuckles white. “Huuuutch?” No answer. The rain was still coming down, and he blinked away the wetness. “Turner?” Still no answer. Starsky was just about to dive in headlong, but something made him stop. “Oh, God.” He froze.

Turner was towing Hutch, across the murky water. The limp form of his partner floating close to his side. “I got him. I got him,” the kid sputtered as he neared the pier. “Stay there! It’ll be easier to lift him out if you’re topside. Other guy’s dead, drowned. “Couldn’t save them both.”

Starsky crouched low, reaching outward. “Hurry. Give him here.”

Getting close to the dock, Turner raised the body he’d been towing up toward Starsky. “Bullet grazed his forehead, knocked him senseless.” The kid sputtered and coughed up water.

All Starsky could do was nod his understanding, as he hoisted Hutch upward and watched the motionless form fold like a rag doll onto the wood planks. He stretched Hutch out lying him flat on his back, hearing a sickening gurgle. “Hutch!” he called loudly, and getting no response.

By now Turner was kneeling by his side, dripping wet and shaking for all he was worth. Quickly he reached for Hutch’s arm locking his fingers around the injured officer’s wrist. “Strong pulse.” The kid frowned, still very concerned at seeing the alabaster white skin of the unconscious senior officer.

Starsky swiped a wet clump of hair off Hutch’s face, leaning down so close to his mouth, he could smell the saltwater on his friends breath.

“It’s faint, but he’s breathing,” Starsky barely uttered, shrugging out of his jacket and pillowing it under Hutch’s head. “How long was he under?”

“Not long. When I got to him he was just barely conscious,” Turner responded, watching the troubled rise and fall of the downed man’s chest.

“How did my partner end up in the water?” Starsky pointed a shaky finger at the harbor. “Damn it, he could have drowned!” In frustration Starsky’s hand reached out and seized a fistful of the kid’s damp shirt. “Look at him.” Starsky pulled Turner close.

The kid’s hands clenched in his lap, listening to the angry detective. He knew seconds counted. Maybe he should have left Harper uncuffed, but deep down he also knew he had to secure the criminal first, before diving in after Hutchinson.

As Starsky ranted, the distant sound of sirens wailing could be heard.

*****************************************************************

Hutch moaned softly. His senses were clouded. He heard an angry voice, heard the wail of sirens, but couldn’t open his eyes or speak. The last thing he remembered was feeling himself slipping away. Everything was black, and there was a tight crushing feeling in his chest. He was sinking fast, fading away. He recalled fighting with a gunman in the water. The man, in his panic pulling him under, his fingers clawing desperately. Trying to hold onto Hutch’s jacket, face, anything to keep from going under. The man’s terror dragging them both down.

Drowning.

He was drowning.

Hutch could feel himself going limp.

No air.

He had no air.

He clawed at his throat.

“Hutch! It’s okay, Hutch. It’s me.”

Hutch could feel the patter of water, winding its way down his face and neck. Determination flared inside him. He wasn’t going to leave Starsky this way. He wasn’t going to let this man take him under. Survival instincts kicking in, he struggled against the hold. Hutch fought back, trying to sit up as fear pumped through his veins.

“Easy. Easy.”

As Hutch slowly came to consciousness, he managed to peek open his eyes, seeing a blur of movement around him. He couldn’t breath; was suffocating. He moaned again, flailing his arms.

“Hutch.”

An unclear face was bent low over him, strong hands restraining his. Hutch held his breath, looking up at the deep blue eyes staring into his. For several intense moments he stopped struggling.

“I want you to stay here. Don’t get up,” a voice told him.

Hutch tried to yell at this person to get off of him. That they’d both drown if he didn’t calm down, but all that came out was a mouthful of seawater. Hutch squeezed his eyes shut, gurgling as bursts of stars went off behind them. He gulped for air–tried to lift his head, but was only pushed back down. He felt himself smoothly rolled to his side, a heavy unpleasant hand whacking him on the back, dislodging more of the water from his lungs.

“Hey, partner.”

The words finally registered.

Starsky’s voice.

Faint, but there. Hutch wanted to say the name, but instead gave way to a gasping breath, still choking and coughing up seawater.

“You got it now. That’s it, boy. Breathe deep!” Starsky still patting at his back, but softer now. “Deeper!”

As Hutch did what was asked of him, he pressed a balled fist against his chest, trying to stifle the hard crushing coughs that breathing deeper had brought on. He shuddered, his head throbbed, and his throat hurt. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t, as more seawater drizzled out his mouth. Finally he felt himself go limp, and rolled onto his back once more. He was cold and exhausted, but opened his eyes, focusing on the hovering face of his partner. Hutch tried to talk; his mouth moved, but he could make no sound.

Starsky slipped a hand under his partner’s head and lifted him upward. “Buddy,” Starsky gentled, not liking Hutch’s pale bluish color and panting breaths. “I can’t hear you. Just lie quiet. You have a nasty graze on your forehead and you were unconscious for a few minutes. I don’t want you–”

“Starsk,” Hutch muttered, letting his partner know he was back.

“Right here with you, Hutch,” Starsky said, reaching out to touch a shoulder, keeping the man down. Hutch was just as stubborn as he was sometimes.

“Is he okay?” Dobey shouted, now standing guard over Harper having called for backup.

“Yes,” Turner yelled.

“No,” Starsky corrected angrily. “He’s not okay. He nearly drowned, because of you. This is what I knew would happen.”

Turner just stared in disbelief at Starsky, unable to discern the emotions playing across the dark-haired officer’s face. Anger? Concern? Fear?

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted my partner with a rookie cop.”

Turner knew Starsky was upset and kept his mouth firmly shut, taking what was dished to him. Maybe he hadn’t done all he could do?

“I knew this was all bullshit!” Starsky yelled. The kid had good intentions, but his lack of experience almost got Hutch killed. Maybe he was letting irrational fear guide him. The kid did pull Hutch out of the drink, but right at that heated moment all Starsky could envision was a flag draped coffin with his partner laid out inside. “You!–” Starsky pointed a lethal finger at Turner.

“St-Stars,” Hutch stammered, trying to sit up. “You–” he took a breath. “You okay?” he asked, wanting to distract his partner from the perch he had on his soapbox.

Starsky stopped his rant, smiling fondly at his friend. “Yeah, buddy I’m okay. Are you okay?” he asked, enclosing his arms around Hutch and pulling him close.

“Thanks to the kid–” Hutch tried to make his voice more than a whisper, the effort causing him to shiver. He floundered for a hold of Starsky’s arm, still taking in ragged gasps of air. “Pretty sure–” Hutch coughed hard, but forced the words out. “I’d …be floating out… to sea if it weren’t for–for–”

Starsky pressed a finger to Hutch’s lips. “Sh-I told you, don’t try to talk now.

“I’m fine,” Hutch mouthed, his body twitching involuntarily trying to warm itself.

“Right,” Starsky’s eyes narrowed. “And I’m a leprechaun.”

“Looking a bit green, Starsk. Think you could pass for one.” Hutch coughed weakly.

Starsky chuckled, feeling some of his fear evaporate. He glanced at Turner. He wasn’t sure if it were perspiration or water that trickled down his face. What he could tell however, was that the kid was tense, soaked through and violently shaking. Starsky didn’t have to see the sheer fright shining in the young officers eyes, he could feel it. But he’d done his job. He’d secured the criminal and pulled his partner from the harbor. That thought seemed to calm his fire, and he pushed away his anger toward Turner.

“Hey, you okay?” Starsky lay a hand to the kid’s shoulder.

Turner gasped. “Don’t sweat it, I’m fine.” He looked up at Starsky with watery eyes.

Starsky stared at Turner, he knew he was shaken and scared, but the kid would never admit to that. There was a balance between the street and the weight of what’s expected of a cop. Some cracked under that pressure when inexperienced and naa33;ve, but this kid pulled through. He was tough and could hang with the big boys. He had the instinct, the heart, and the ability. He’d saved Hutch’s life. Starsky knew he would never have gotten to Hutch on time. A lump of gratitude rose in Starsky’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the kid that.

“So this time you managed to snatch a rabbit out of a hat. What about the next time?” Starsky left the question open-ended.

Turner reminded Starsky a lot of himself. He had the skills it took, and if the kid managed to dodge and elude the bullets that inevitably would come his way, like tonight, he’d manage to survive and become one of the best.

“You better go and see what Dobey needs,” Starsky said, waiving the young officer away. He wasn’t going to let the kid slip under his skin turning this into a soapy scene.

“You don’t need me here?” Turner asked in dismay.

Starsky shook his head. “No, we’re fine,” he said, looking back down at his wounded friend.

Hutch’s face was pale, eyes shut, blood pooling into the tiny frown line between his eyes and running down both sides of his face, along with the rain.

“Yeah, okay,” Turner said, trying for casual as he trotted off.

Dazed and shivering, steeling himself against the dizziness and nausea, Hutch cringed. “You could’ve told him.” Starsky bowed his shoulders over Hutch, trying to shield him and wipe the water from his face.

“Told him what?”

“Kid saved my life, Starsk. Thank you. Just–tell–him–thank you.” Hutch suppressed a gasp.

“Hey, Hutch, you okay?” Starsky asked worriedly. The last thing he was thinking about right now were thank you notes.

“No,” Hutch said, finally admitting defeat, and keeping his eyes shut tried to take in deep breaths.

Worried, Starsky glanced over at the Torino. ” Let’s get you to the car, partner. Get you out of this rain.”

Hutch opened his eyes. The random shapes and color patterns that flitted about made him feel like he were part of an abstract painting. “Let’s,” he mumbled. “Not feeling so hot, Starsk.” He broke down.

Starsky carefully wrapped an arm around his partner. “Oh–” Hutch’s voice broke like glass, and he shut his eyes, as the pier seemed to tilt at an odd angle. “Dizzy.”

“I can see why, buddy.” Starsky studied the pinched and pale face of his partner. “Got yourself a nice gash on your head,” Starsky said with sorrow in his voice. It hurt him to see Hutch in pain. “Think you can make it to the car?”

“Nope.”

“Awe, come on, Champ.” Starsky encouraged, looking at his partner’s wet, poker straight hair and the way the ends curled, water dripping from them.

“Careful, go slow.” Starsky took great care in getting his friend to the car. Letting Hutch’s damp body lean heavy into his side. “Give me a minute, Hutch, I’ll have you inside a warm dry car.”

“I’m timing you,” Hutch shivered, stiff and cold as ice, feeling rivulets of water slither down his back and under his waistband.

“You do that, buddy,” Starsky laughed lightly.

Just before Hutch’s knees gave way, Starsky eased him into the passenger seat of the Torino. He reached over Hutch to the backseat, producing a blanket, and quickly covered his friend. Hutch’s tense body collapsed in exhaustion, letting his head lean back against the seat, and closing his eyes.

“That’s it, partner. Just stay put right there and rest. Gonna find something to clean up some of that blood.”

Hutch sat quietly, trying hard not to move. His body ached all over and he felt so weak and drowsy. He wanted to sleep, but didn’t think he could. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the rain patter on the hood of the car, the drops slowing with each breath he took.

************************************************

Hutch struggled hard, feeling enclosed in something and he was unable to breathe. He shoved away at the hand that kept grappling to get a hold of him.

“Get away! Get off me!” he yelled.

“Hutch! You’re safe!” Fingers touched his face softly, but Hutch pushed them away. “We’ll both drown. Get off me!” He repeated his plea, dazed and confused.

“Hutch, wake up! Come on, boy, you need to wake up!”

Finally the words penetrated his water-logged brain, and Hutch opened his eyes, blinking away the wetness. “Starsky?” His breathing rapid. “The water–the guy– couldn’t swim–wouldn’t calm down.”

Starsky lay a hand on Hutch’s knee, the strength in the simple touch warmed Hutch’s chilled body.

“Hutch, it’s okay, you’re here with me. You were having a dream.”

Hutch looked to his hands. His fingers were curled into the blanket that was draped tightly around him. “Dreaming,” he uttered, and sat back feeling a bit embarrassed.

“There you go, buddy. Rest. You need to save your strength,” Starsky uttered, using the handkerchief he’d gotten from Dobey.

He continued to swab gently at the blood that dripped from the graze on Hutch’s forehead. Starsky watched his partner’s eyes flutter open and shut. First showing alabaster white then sky blue. The man was exhausted. Seeing the bleeding had slowed, Starsky brushed his fingertips across Hutch’s throat in a comforting manner. Hutch’s pulse throbbed strong at the base of his neck under them, but Starsky couldn’t help but shudder, noticing the cold and clammy skin.

“Where-where’s the junior detective?” Hutch asked, sleepily.

“He’s with Dobey.” Starsky glanced over to see Dobey shoving Harper into the backseat of a squad car, then back at Hutch. “They’re going to wrap it up here. Don’t worry, gonna get you to the hospital, get you all fixed up.”

“Starsk,” Hutch coughed heavily.

Starsky didn’t like the rattling sound in Hutch’s chest. “Easy. Awe Hutch, you can hardly keep your eyes open, Blondie, and you’re all wet.”

“And bloody.” Hutch cleared his throat.

“That too.”

“The kid really came through, Starsk. ”

“Hutch,” Starsky stopped him. “Don’t say it.” A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down, straightening. “The kid’s naïve. But he did get a quick education tonight.”

“Starsky. You-you have no idea how close you–you came to not having a partner.”

“Hutch.”

“Starsky, he’s a cop. A damn good one, and I think he would like to hear that from you.”

“Let’s get you fixed up,” Starsky said, shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

Hutch sat quietly as Starsky pulled slowly away from the scene. They passed by Turner who stood near a black and white backup unit that had been dispatched, looking down at the ground.

“Hey,” Starsky called, leaning slightly out his rolled down window.

Turner raised his head, his eyes dark, a dejected look on his face.

“Nice moves Dillinger,” Starsky said using a twangy Texan drawl, winking and giving the kid a thumbs up.

The transformation was amazing. “You should see me jitterbug!” A smile shot across the kid’s face, shining like the break of day. “Next time I work with Officer Hutchinson–”

“Sorry, Officer Turner. I got dibs on that,” Starsky said, driving away. “Smart ass kid,” he mumbled glancing over at his partner. Hutch’s eyes were closed and all he could hear was his steady breathing. “Did you miss me, Hutch?”

“More than you know, Starsky,” Hutch whispered in a harsh voice.

Starsky’s hand came down on Hutch’s shoulder and he pulled him near so he could lean against him. “Was hoping you’d say that, partner.” Starsky smiled.

The end.