And Always Shall Be…

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Starsky and Hutch see a thought-provoking movie.

 

This story was first published in the Cabrillo Con 2010 zine.

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The bright sunlight took Hutch by surprise as they left the theatre. He squinted and reached for the sunglasses in his top shirt pocket, only to realize Starsky had already snagged them. Momentarily confused, he had to reorient himself to the here-and-now instead of the far distant future he had just left. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I got so involved in that movie, I completely forgot it was the middle of the day,” Starsky said, adjusting Hutch’s aviator-styled frames on his face. “That was some movie!”

In spite of staying through the very last frame of the credits-the way Starsky always insisted they did-part of Hutch’s consciousness was still in the seat, staring up at the screen, being absorbed into that other world, that other life…that was a reboot of yet another life…that was all fictional, fantastical, impossible…yet… He blinked in the harsh sunlight, trying to transport himself back to Bay City with only marginal success.

They started walking; the car was parked blocks away. As they ambled along the familiar city streets, taking their time, Hutch felt glad they hadn’t found convenient parking. The simple act of moving, of watching traffic as they reached the corner, the rhythm and flow of people passing them-all of it helped pull him back into real life again.

“The special effects were over the top,” Starsky said as they stopped at a light. He was grinning, waving his arms expansively as if he could encompass the experience in a broad gesture. “I mean you expect that these days, y’know? Y’almost take it for granted; that CGI stuff is in everything. But, I dunno, this time, everything seemed so real, like those monsters, it was like you could feel them gainin’ on you, and the scenes in space, and when they were free-fallin’ without a chute and it looked like they were gonna hit, I actually got queasy-”

Hutch realized if he didn’t start participating in this conversation, Starsky would figure something was going on with him. “I noticed it didn’t impact your popcorn consumption.”

Starsky snorted. “You’re just jealous ’cause you can’t have butter and salt; while me, with my low cholesterol and perfect blood pressure-”

“Don’t forget all that hair-” It was an old and comfortable argument, but it wouldn’t distract Starsky for long. The light turned green and they crossed.

The irony of Hutch’s running battle with his declining health and Starsky’s nearly ageless constitution was mostly due to the vagaries of genetics. Hutch’s on-again-off-again-now-permanently-on-again regimen of “healthy living” had long been predicated by family history. He had been diligent enough through most of his life in staving it off. But he hadn’t been as successful in managing the stress of the job.

Even though they had been off the streets for years, the need to maintain their partnership-and the value that partnership had to the force-had kept them working as partners through the years as the brass shuffled them from one high-pressure position to another. As lieutenants, they worked on the gang problem in LA, on illegal gun running, even, ironically, on special cases with the FBI. It was only recently, after the last five years on a special task force to resolve cold cases, that they finally started to discuss retirement. It was still just talk. But they were in full agreement that when they hung up their badges, they would do it together. Neither of them was willing to leave the other behind. But the job had taken its toll. There were days when Hutch felt as old as the original Spock looked.

In fact, there were moments in the theatre as he gazed into that familiar, venerable face that Hutch had felt as if he were peering into a mirror of his soul. “There’s nothin’ wrong with your hair,” Starsky said dismissively. But even as he said it, he ran his hands through his own short, impossibly thick thatch of curls that were still only touched with grey. “Look, Hutch,” Starsky barreled on, not waiting for a response, “I know this isn’t one a’those deep-thinkin’ artsy films you keep draggin’ me to-” “The ones you usually sleep through-”

“–but didn’t you think they did a good job? I mean, it was so familiar, and yet all new! It was creative and exciting and everything the original show was. You do remember the original show, don’t you?”

Hutch stopped in the middle of the block and just stared at his partner. “Let me think. The original show…hmm…that would be the show that, over the last thirty years, you’ve made me watch every single time it was syndicated, and every single time it was rerun at a convenient time frame, and then over and over when it came out on VHS until the tape wore thin, and then when the new DVDs were issued-”

“Which you bought me for Christmas so you could have an excuse to watch them in their bright shiny new colors.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” They were both laughing now. “Yes, Starsky. I remember the original show.”

Although, he didn’t realize until now how well he remembered it. Especially when things about that old show-things that hadn’t occurred to him until the last two hours-kept popping up in this new movie to rattle his cage. That was just a TV show. This was just a movie. He told himself that several times, but it wasn’t sinking in.

They continued strolling toward the car.

“I gotta confession to make,” Starsky said, his sheepish tone surprising Hutch. “All those years we watched that show-”

-Frequently enough that I had no trouble picking up on every in-joke in that movie-

“One of the reasons I insisted on watching it was…well…” For a moment, Starsky had trouble meeting Hutch’s gaze. “Truth is…Kirk and Spock kinda…reminded me of…us.”

Hutch was suddenly grateful that his youthful habit of blushing had long since faded away. His stomach tightened, and he schooled his face. Swallowing, he managed to say in a clear voice, “Really?”

Starsky nodded, his apparent momentary embarrassment dissolving as he explained. “Sure. I mean, think about it. They roamed their beat in a powerful super-fast vehicle-

Though, you always hated its “boring” color.

“-rescued people-”

With a success rate somewhat better than ours. “-fought off bad guys-”

Ditto.

“-dealt with government bureaucracy-”

Sometimes just like we did…by not answering the radio!

“-And even though they were both from really different backgrounds-”

Uh…yeah…one of them was an alien.

“-and they didn’t have much in common to start with-”

I guess to a motor-mouth from Brooklyn, someone from Minnesota was about as alien as you could get.

“-they got past their differences, and became…partners. And best friends.”

Spock’s words echoed inside Hutch, embedding in his soul, just like the first time he’d heard them several movies ago. Hearing them again today had touched him in a whole new way.

I have been and always shall be your friend.

Hutch stopped their progress again. They were far enough from the theater now that there was less people-traffic on their side of the sidewalk, although street traffic continued at a steady pace.

Starsky didn’t seem to notice, although he halted automatically. “I really liked seeing how they met in the Academy. In the original show, that wasn’t likely, but even so, that’s how I always imagined it. That they met in the Academy. Like us.”

“Star Fleet Academy.”

“Yeah! I always thought they met there and liked each other right off.”

“You mean the way we did?” Hutch raised a quizzical eyebrow at Starsky’s revisionist history.

Starsky frowned, remembering. “Well…sure…we had a couple’a rocky days-

A couple? You drove me crazy from the moment we met, and once you figured that out, you worked at it double time!

“-but we finally got over ourselves. I think that’s why Iron Mike teamed us up for all those training exercises. Remember? Where we had to run through that course, and all those cardboard stand-ups would jump out at us, and we had to decide in a split second whether or not to shoot? ‘Cause he could tell we were rubbin’ each other the wrong way, and he figured we’d both wash out if we didn’t learn to work together.”

Hutch grinned. “So…he was our Christopher Pike? Putting us together against our will, forging our partnership without us realizing it?”

Hutch thought of how the young Kirk in this movie aggravated the young Spock at every turn, sometimes intentionally. Looking back, he realized that a lot of Starsky’s playful chiding in those first days at the Police Academy was for the very same reason. Because Hutch had been an insufferable stick-in-the-mud, too busy memorizing regulations to look in the face of the people they were going to be serving. He remembered how Starsky would deliberately hide Hutch’s police manual just to make him crazy-and it worked every time. Hutch must have bought five different copies of that book during their stint at the Academy.

Starsky’s expression sobered. “Too bad we weren’t able to rescue Iron Mike, like Kirk and Spock rescued Pike.”

Hutch gripped Starsky’s shoulder, knowing they were both remembering their instructor dying in their arms years later on the street. It had been a long time since he’d thought of those first few weeks in the Academy, when Iron Mike teamed them up on exercise after exercise. Eventually, their competitive natures overcame their reluctance to cooperate with each other. They beat every other team, over and over, won every competition, and graduated at the top of their class within points of each other. More importantly, the rapport they developed during those exercises extended to the rest of their work. Starsky taught Hutch a lot about human nature, and Hutch helped Starsky through some of the more technical courses.

As if his brain wanted to shake off the melancholy memories, something suddenly occurred to him. “So all those years we were watching the original show, you were sitting there imagining Kirk and Spock as a future version of us?”

Starsky shrugged, still a bit embarrassed. “Yeah.”

Hutch’s eyes narrowed. “Because you saw yourself as Kirk!”

As if sensing a trap, Starsky hesitated. “Uh…well…not exactly.”

“Forget the innocent act! This is me you’re talking to. The guy who’s spent the last thirty years sitting next to you in the car. You see yourself as Kirk, bad boy of the universe! Pedal to the metal, guns blazing, act first, think later…and let’s not even talk about the women!”

“Yeah, let’s not,” Starsky agreed quickly, glancing around the street. “At least, not here. We’re in public, Hutch!”

“I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. I should’ve realized it when the car he stole was red!”

“Just because I once told you about an occasional youthful indiscretion-”

“Oh, please. You’re the poster child for why juvenile records remain sealed! That’s the reason you ended up getting sent out here to live with your aunt and uncle, isn’t it? So, if you’re Kirk…” He paused, blinking, his brain wrapping around the inevitable conclusion. “That means I’m-” Before he could finish the thought, Starsky interrupted. “Y’gotta admit, even in this new universe, he knew all the regulations, didn’t he?” He grinned cheekily.

“You see me as Spock? A walking computer with no emotions?”

It was Starsky’s turn to look stunned. “Huh? Were you not paying any attention in there? Or during all those episodes? Spock’s got plenty of emotions! He just keeps ’em all bottled up, like all those other cold-blooded aliens from planet Minnesota. But when he lets the genie outta the bottle, hoo-boy, step back! Now, I don’t wanna name names, but there was that time when those slimy Fed lawyers were stakin’ us out over the whole Frank Malone thing, and you lost your cool in their office. You nearly made that guy wet himself when you pinned him up against the wall. Good thing I was there to talk you down. And I seem to remember one time when we were rousting Artie Solkin where you nearly went off the rails-”

Starsky had always been there to rein him in before he went too far. But Hutch remembered the dark days when he went after Gunther while Starsky lay dying. Rage had been his constant companion. He didn’t have Starsky there to hold him back when he threatened to shoot the assassin in the parking lot, or when he broke down Jenny Brown’s door…or when he actually got to arrest Gunther. But he did arrest Gunther. He didn’t do what he really wanted to. He didn’t even pull his gun, not even when Gunther pulled one on him. Nor did he assassinate the murderer in the parking lot. He didn’t even lay a heavy hand on Jenny Brown. So, maybe Starsky had been beside him in spirit, still keeping him within bounds somehow. “Okay, okay.”

“And who’s the guy who always knows all the details of every obscure little fact whenever we need it? You, that’s who. Yeah, before there was Google, there was Hutchinson! Ballet steps, the finest caviar, the regulations for manhole covers-”

Hutch sighed. He recognized a lost battle when he heard one.

“In fact, Spock’s biggest problem in the show and this movie was-he didn’t have Kirk to hold him back, to set his limits. When Spock lost it, he usually lost it on Kirk, and all the poor guy could do was try an’ survive. When you lose it, ya got me there to keep you from goin’ over the line.”

Which you’ve been doing for more than thirty years, buddy. “Well, it’s no wonder he was always losing it on Kirk,” Hutch said in self-defense. “The guy was as aggravating as you are. If you two had nothing else in common, you had that.” Still, he couldn’t let it go. “I do not have pointy ears.”

“Yeah, and he’s not blond either. Nobody’s perfect.” Starsky grinned, unrepentant. “There were other things, though; this time….”

Hutch was about to start walking again, but he could tell Starsky was getting serious about something. They were near a small city park, so Hutch nodded toward it and they moved forward, finding an empty bench.

As Starsky sat, he twisted on the bench so he was facing Hutch. “The universe changed because Kirk lost his dad. Instead of growing up with him, he never got to know him at all.” Starsky’s voice grew somber. “Who would I have been if my dad had survived my teenage years? What influence would that have had on my life?”

They were both quiet a moment, thinking about that. Hutch couldn’t help a moment of selfishness. “We would’ve never met.”

Starsky shook his head. “Yeah. Sure, we would’ve.”

Hutch frowned. “You would’ve never come to California if your dad hadn’t been killed. Your mom sent you out here because you were constantly in trouble-”

“Doesn’t matter. We would’a met. We would’a been partners. Nothing could’ve stopped that. Any more than changing the past kept Kirk and Spock apart. They were gonna meet somehow, someway, no matter what.”

Starsky’s certainty touched Hutch, and inside, he knew Starsky was right. Some things were just meant to be.

“There were other things,” Starsky said. “Like that moment where they ended up in the totally wrong place in the mining ship and they had to react fast, as a team, get under cover, fight back under heavy fire- They came up from behind that cover with guns blazing like they’d been doing it forever. How many times have we been there?”

Hutch usually avoided those memories, but this time, he could appreciate them. “I always went high, you went low.”

“I went left, you went right. And we’re still workin’ the angles together,” Starsky said. “Usin’ our brains instead-”

“Well, at least one of us is-”

Starsky’s hand on his arm stopped Hutch from taking the teasing further.

“You haven’t said much about how the movie affected you,” Starsky said. “All we’ve talked about is my take on it. Some part of it got to you. I could tell. I’d glance at you from time to time, and you were barely blinking. I know what you look like when you’re bored in a movie-you’re checkin’ out the other patrons, shifting in the seat, and tryin’ to find space for your legs. You didn’t do any of that. So, what was it?”

Hutch should have known Starsky would see through him. After all these years, there wasn’t much he could hide from his long-time partner. He took a deep breath, searching for the words. “What was that like for him, for old Spock to have to convince a young version of his best friend-a friend he’d outlived in his own universe-to become his friend again? What would that have been like for him-if Kirk didn’t listen? If young Spock didn’t listen? I keep trying to imagine that…giving your younger self advice about the most important relationship you would ever have. Did we ever listen to anybody else at that age?”

Starsky’s expression sobered. He clearly was affected by Hutch’s words. “Suppose it’d been Kirk and not Spock in that scenario. Kirk wouldn’t’ve had the mind meld to convince anyone. They would’ve had to take his word for it. Just like…if it was one of us.”

“Even without the meld,” Hutch said, “he had the right words: ‘I have been-‘”

Starsky picked it right up. “‘-and always shall be-‘”

“‘-your friend’.”

One side of Starsky’s mouth quirked up. “Those are the definitely the right words, in any universe.”

Hutch nodded. But there was another part that ate at him. He leaned forward, framing his thoughts. “I wondered, too…what it had to be like for old Spock to watch those young men go off to live that life over, knowing how…amazing it was all going to be…and not be there himself this time.”

Starsky clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know about them…but I’m glad that part’s behind us.”

Hutch was surprised. “Really? Really?”

Starsky didn’t hesitate. “Really. Sure, lots of it was exciting. Let’s face it; we were both adrenalin junkies. But we spent way too much time beside each other’s deathbed. How many times did I get shot? Stabbed? Poisoned?”

Hutch nodded. “Bellamy’s poison…I thought I’d lost you for sure.”

“When you were trapped under that car…and when you got that plague.”

They looked at each other and said at the same time, “Gunther.”

“When I think back on those days,” Starsky confessed, “I’m surprised we actually survived them. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad we had those experiences. I’m glad we were the crazy cops we were. We put a lot of bad guys away. And I’m really glad we got to live long enough to finally start talking about retirement. There are some advantages to getting older. I find I really enjoy the sight of my overflowing desk.”

That seemed to bring the conversation to a natural conclusion. They stood and started walking through the park toward the car again. “It was a good movie,” Hutch admitted. “I enjoyed it.” He knew Starsky would be able to read between the lines.

Starsky walked backwards for a few feet, so he could face Hutch. “It was way better than I expected. Wasn’t it great seeing the original ship again?”

“With its familiar boring color?”

Starsky laughed and turned back around.

They turned onto the street where they had left the car. Hutch wasn’t surprised to find the vehicle surrounded by a mob of admirers.

“Hey, how about lettin’ the driver through,” Starsky announced, getting their attention.

A young, tall, dark-haired man of mixed race turned to him. “This is your ride? Man, it’s cherry!” He had startling green eyes with thick lashes and an open smile.

Of course it’s cherry, Hutch thought, rolling his eyes. He takes better care of that antique than he does his new car–or anything else he owns.

“What year is it?” another man asked. Sandy-haired and slightly shorter than the darker boy standing beside him, he peered into the interior, but moved as Hutch approached the car. Hutch thought he had “hayseed” written all over him. The kid looked like he’d come straight off the farm with big, guileless blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose.

“Older than you are,” Hutch grumbled, moving around to the passenger side.

Most of the other spectators drifted away, but the pair of young men stayed behind.

“It must cost a fortune to maintain,” the sandy-haired man said, frowning.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hutch said. “You can’t drive it around the block before it needs a tune-up! And that was when it was new.”

“Gives you something in common with the car, doesn’t it, Hutch?” Starsky chided. He turned back to the young men. “Don’t mind him. He just hates it that the Torino always gets more attention than he does.” The pair laughed as Starsky slid behind the wheel.

“Take my advice, son,” Hutch told the sandy-haired young man. “Stick with a car that’s reliable, sensible, that stays under the radar.”

“Take my advice,” Starsky told the dark-haired boy. “Find yourself a partner with good taste in cars.”

Hutch turned to him. “If we’d taken that advice, we would’ve never worked together.”

Starsky returned his smile. “Mmm…and think of what we’d have missed.”

Hutch reconsidered and looked at the boys again. “Okay, forget what we said. You can live with car incompatibility. If you’re damned lucky, you’ll find yourself a partner you can trust to watch your back. Do that, and everything else will fall into place.”

“Can’t ask for more than that,” Starsky agreed.

The two young men grinned at each other. The light-haired boy said, “Sounds like good advice.”

“I take it you guys have been working together a long time,” the darker one added.

“Even before this car was new,” Hutch said.

Starsky turned over the engine and fed it enough gas to make the Torino growl, and the boys backed away with a wave.

“I can’t believe you had to pull out this old battleship today,” Hutch complained, as Starsky pulled away from the curb, leaving the young men behind.

Starsky was clearly in his element. “We needed a classic machine to take us to see a classic machine. Seemed only right with the Enterprise flyin’ again.”

“Well, how about steering this Detroit monstrosity to some classic food? I’m ready for dinner.”

“Let’s hit Huggy’s newest place.”

“Uh…that depends. What’s his latest experiment in fine dining?”

Huggy owned a successful chain of high-end restaurants, each of them with a separate theme and menu. Hutch thought Huggy’s trendiest places were plagued with artsy-fartsy nouvelle cuisine that featured tiny portions of weird food on decorated plates. When he complained about it once, Huggy said he was laughing all the way to the bank.

“If you’re planning on taking us to one of his Chez Bruno dives,” Hutch said warningly, “we’ll starve and go broke at the same time.

“Relax. Huggy called me last night to invite us. He opened his new place last week, when we were tied up with that Mortenson cold case. He’s decided to go retro. He found his old restaurant back in the ‘hood-the original Pits-on the auction block and got it for a song. He renovated the place to look like it used to-pure seventies. It’s dark and comfortable, and the menu is true Americana. Burgers, fries, chicken wings. I think he got homesick.”

Hutch frowned. “Sounds great, but you know I can’t-”

“He said to tell you he’s got a whole vegan menu for…his older and weirder customers.”

“Very funny. What did he name the place?”

“I Pozzi.”

Hutch burst into laughter. It was Italian for “The Pits.” “Okay, I Pozzi it is. A veggie burger sounds just about right.”

Starsky nodded. “After we finish dinner, let’s talk Huggy into seeing the Star Trek movie with us.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight! There’s a midnight showing. Huggy’s gonna love it.”

Hutch shook his head, knowing Huggy would be an easy sell. As would he. “Okay, Starsk. But first, some food. Let’s hit it. Thrusters on full.”

“Hey, Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“Buckle up!”

* * *

The dark-haired man watched the flaming red Torino peel away from the curb with a squeal.

“Forget it,” his friend said. “It’ll be a while before you can afford an antique ride like that on our salary.”

He nodded wistfully. “But what a beauty. Hey, a man can dream, can’t he?”

“You’re crazy. You can see that boat coming from a mile away. How’re you supposed to maintain any kind of undercover persona in a screaming red car with a huge white stripe? Whatever those old dudes did for a living, they sure weren’t cops.”

The dark-haired man raised his hands. “I know, I know. We’re going for subtlety. I got it already. But first, we gotta get through the Academy.”

“Well, that’s a given,” the sandy-haired man agreed. “You’re not worried, are you, Ken?”

“Hell, no, Dave. We’re gonna be top of our class. No question.”

The two men slapped palms in a practiced move.

Ken glanced at his complicated diver’s watch. “We’re gonna be late for the movie if we don’t hustle. Scopin’ out that car ate up all our spare time.”

“Let’s go then,” Dave said. “To explore strange new worlds.”

“You’re really crazy about this movie, aren’t you?” Ken teased. “Spock.”

“Yeah, like you’re not,” Dave snorted. “And I do not have pointy ears!”

Their banter continued right up to the ticket window.

End