| Christmas Past and Future |
| A post- Sweet Revenge Christmas story |
Detective Sergeant Ken Hutchinson stood in the middle of his living room and gazed fondly at the Christmas tree. The lights that twinkled between the branches cast a colorful glow around the room. The smell of pine mingled with the plants on his balcony, singing the joys of life. The branches themselves reached up to the sky, as if praising the Heavens above. Not too long ago, he would have thrown a fit if he found the tree in his apartment, but that all changed when Gunther nearly took everything that was precious to him away, namely his best friend and partner, David Starsky. Every time he thought about that horrible day, his mind went numb. Death had come so close that time. God, are you listening? Why did this happen? He needs you now Please help him. He had relived the moment a thousand times. It all started with a simple game of ping-pong trivia. He couldn't remember who suggested the game. The squad room was being painted and it was taking longer than anyone planned. They were bored and restless. There was nothing else to do. Even Dobey had stopped to watch a while, before he sent them back to the street. As they came out of the station, they were arguing cheerfully about dinner. If Hutch had known what was about to happen, he would have barricaded himself and Starsky in that room forever. He could hear the screech of metal against metal, and knew instinctively that danger was headed straight for them. The chatter of an automatic rifle blasted around him and he yelled for Starsky to get down. In all the cacophony going on around him, the silence on the other side of the Torino was deafening. As he rounded the car, the sight of his partner lying against the car brought him to a complete standstill. In that moment, a part of him died. How can there be a God? You made him in your image You sent him to me Why do you have to take him now? The first hours at the hospital were a blur to him. All he could remember was the desperation that he felt. Conflicting words ricocheted in his mind. "Starsky's dying." "The human body can only withstand so much damage." "No, there's a chance. There's always a chance." "Be calm and let me find you another partner." "I already have a partner, I don't need another one." Again, the sights and sounds of the moment assaulted him. The sound of Huggy telling him he found a car. The impatience he felt when he saw the counterfeit orderly and his "patient", lying in wait for him. The rage that was unleashed when he glimpsed the flash of the blade in the darkness and the numbness in his mind when it sliced his wrist. He could barely recognize his own voice. "Give me a reason!" "Tell me something I don't know!" None of it mattered. His crusade was only a product of the overwhelming need to do something. Starsky was dying. To simply sit and wait for the inevitable to happen was unthinkable. Oh, God, I do believe Please don't take him I need him more than you do. Hutch looked at the decorations around his apartment and smiled. There was so much to celebrate this year. When he turned around that day and saw those blue eyes open, it was like hearing the angels sing. The joy inside him bubbled over and he grabbed the first person he saw and swung her around. He didn't care who it was, the feeling was too strong to hold inside. If it had been Dobey standing there, he would have done the same thing. The poor nurse didn't know what was happening, but he did. The guardian angel that took care of Starsky had worked overtime that day. Who was he kidding? That particular angel had saved two lives, not one. He and Starsky came as a package deal. Why should this time be any different? All of the doubts and fears that had plagued him for so long were gone. They had a purpose now. Whatever life threw at them, Hutch knew they could handle it, as long as they were together. Starsk? Starsky?? He's awake!! Oh, God, I do believe! Thank-you I'll take good care of him The porcelain angel at the top of the tree seemed to wink at him, echoing his thoughts. Starsky was alive and whole again, and soon, they would return to the work that was their destiny. He was so grateful for this second chance that he would have climbed to the top of the tree himself, dressed in a tutu, and would do a little dance if Starsky asked him to. Suddenly, the holiday didn't seem so materialistic. The houses that were decorated weren't the Smith's and the Jones's trying to out do each other. The nativity scenes in the store windows weren't hypocritical any more. The Santa's standing on the street corners weren't conning people out of their hard-earned money. The people who met you on the street with a smile weren't waiting to stab you in the back the rest of the year. The whole season was a celebration of life. It was about a precious gift that was given long ago, a gift that was given in faith. Hutch knew that he had been given a gift, too, and would gladly pay for that gift with his life. Reaching down, he unplugged the lights and stood in the darkness. He whispered a final thanks to the angel, put on his jacket and walked out the door. He laughed out loud as he bounded down the stairs. "Euphoric sentimentalism, here I come!" |