Best Intentions

Starsky is stunned how much Hutch’s new girlfriend, Abby, looks like his late girlfriend, Helen.

Written for the twenty minute fic using nail and screw.

Was Hutch screwing with him or had this been one of their usual competitions where they’d vied for the pretty girl? The question looped through Starsky’s brain all night, interrupting his sleep.

And when he dreamed, he dreamed about Helen.

Abigail Crabtree could have been her twin. Same pale blonde hair, same smile, and pretty eyes. Even the same curve of her waist to her hips. He could feel the way Helen had moved against him when they hugged.

That one-second glimpse of Abigail before she and Hutch walked out of the squad room had left him stunned and unsettled. What was going on here?

He needed an answer and was afraid to bring up such a fraught discussion at the same time. By morning, he was groggy and grouchy when Hutch arrived in his beater for their stake-out on the Bradley Brewery. Word had it that Briley Bradley was selling illegal substances as well as locally brewed beer out of his warehouse.

It was clear there was no one in residence at the brewery when they parked about four car lengths from the front of the place. This was either going to be a long, very frustrating day, or with all luck, Bradley would arrive and make a sale to some customer right in front of them.

Starsky was almost asleep two hours later, and there had still been no sign of Bradley, or any of his employees. To force himself to keep alert, Starsky nailed his resolve to the sticking point and turned slightly to face Hutch. “Did you take Miss Crabtree out for dinner?”

“Abby,” Hutch said with a grin. “We went to the Green Turtle.”

Might have been Starsky’s imagination, but he sensed a defensiveness in the way Hutch put on his sunglasses at that moment.

“Really bright out here,” Hutch said.

“She remind you of anybody?” Starsky put it out there in the open. No sense tiptoeing around the point.

“Abby?” Hutch’s grin faded slightly and he watched a car drive past them. It didn’t stop at the Brewery or drive into the parking area.

“Her Aunt Maggie wasn’t there.”

“Starsk.” Hutch let out a long breath. “I did it for you. Because…I was afraid seeing her would hurt you too much.”

“Stealing her from under my nose?” Starsky grit his teeth, even if he’d asked Hutch to do just that.

“She’s not Helen,” Hutch said bluntly. “They look…astonishingly alike, but their personalities are very, very different. I only wanted to spare you—”

“How are they different?” Starsky persisted.

“Abby’s into yoga, holistic practices, healthy foods. And she’s sweet, not a mean bone in her body,” Hutch recounted. “Helen was earthy but gritty. She liked a rare steak and a night watching the fights.”

That was Helen to a T. “She was also in your face competitive, aggressive, and had a temper,” Starsky added. “It did hurt, to see her, but I’d still like to get to know Abby.”

“Absolutely,” Hutch bobbed his head, taking Starsky’s hand. “There is no erasing Helen. I want you to know that.”

Starsky nodded, imagining his late girlfriend waving her fingers at him as she mounted a stairway to heaven.

FIN