Starsky, Hutch, Jack and me.

© by Elsa

“You’re doing what?” Jack looked at me with a big, mocking grin.

“Writing. Fan fiction. As it happens, it’s a lively community, Jack.”

“What IS that?”

“Fan fiction. Writing about characters from a series or a film,” I explained. I swallowed a bit uncomfortably. Why was it always so damn embarrassing to admit this?

Hutch’s eyes carried a worried look. “Hurry Starks. It’s damn cold.”

“I know, I know,” Starsky said, took a deep breath and dove into the water that wildly encircled him. He had to fight to keep himself from being swept sideways by the strong current.

Hutch’s foot was caught under a heavy steel bar. He stood, water rising rapidly, in a pit about five feet wide and eight feet deep. The water came in from one side, now that the rain had broken the dam, and wildly moved around.

“Okay, what’s this? You’re writing about Hutch and that other bloke, whatshisname? That blond dude?”

“Hutch was the blond dude, Jack. The other was one was Starsky. The guy with the dark curls.”

“You’re not telling me you’re writing about a THIRTY year old TV-show?”

Gasping and spluttering Starsky resurfaced.

“Starsk?” Hutch saw the filthy water coming higher quickly. It had already reached his chest. And it was very cold. He’d been stuck like this for over an hour and he was soaking wet long before the water suddenly had appeared. He couldn’t move his foot an inch – he was really stuck under the bar. He couldn’t tell where it came from. The heavy rainfall had caused an old, delipidated shed to collapse, it came tumbling down the road and the blond officer was dragged into a gaping hole off-road.

“I can’t see a thing,” Starsky said. “It’s too muddy. Hang on.”

Again he took a breath and went under. Hutch felt yanking at his feet and ankle. It hurt. He yelped a cry in pain. It took so long before Starsky resurfaced that Hutch began to call his name.

“Starsk? Starsk? Starsky!”

“Well, yes… err… yes. They’re great to write about.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Jack was too decent to laugh me in the face, but it took him a lot of effort. He peered over my shoulder.

“You’re writing… what? That blond dude is stuck somewhere?”

“Yes. They’re in the middle of a storm. Lots of wind and rain and Hutch’s trapped.”

“O, right. Well, don’t let me stop you.”

There he was again. Dark water dripped from his hair and left filthy streaks on his face. He blinked quickly to get the water from his sore eyes.

“Buddy, it’s not looking good,” he said curtly. “That thing is too heavy – and it’s wedged or something. I can’t move it.” He looked around as he waded to the edge of the funnel to climb out.

“I need something. A jack, or a crowbar.”

Hutch’s teeth rattled. The water was now over his shoulders.

“There’s a jack in the car,” Starsky said hastily. “I’ll be right back. Hold on.” He ran off.

The water curled like a whirlpool around Hutch’s shoulders. He kept his hands up and his eyes flashed from the sides of the pit to the water that came up. It was frightening to see how quickly it moved, how fast it rose. And not for the first time in his life, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even if Starsky was back in time with a jack, did he have power enough to lift the bar? Could he yield enough force to get Hutch out?

“Heeeey,” Jack said slowly, “this isn’t bad… this isn’t bad at all.”

“I told you, they’re fantastic to write about.”

“But they’re old.”

“Yeah, but they’re very alive.”

“Wake up, sunshine. They’re dead as doornails. You writing about antiquities.”

“I’m not! If that’s what you think Starsky & Hutch is all about, you’ve got a lot to learn.” 

“O? Then what IS it about?”

“It’s about friendship and trust – that’s a timeless topic. Basically they’re ageless, even though they were on screen long ago.” I smiled with a sigh. “Too long ago.”

Pounding feet preceded Starsky, who stopped at the last possible moment and jumped into the water without further consideration.

“Hell – it is cold.”

The water had reached Hutch’s chin by now. He was stretching himself to make himself longer and tilted his head back to keep above the water.

“Hutch,” said Starsky, panting heavily, “I brought a tube. If the water gets too high, you can use it to breathe through.” He grabbed one of Hutch’s hands and pushed the yellow plastic tube in. It had a small diameter, but it was good thinking of the dark haired detective. It would at least postpone the dreadful moment a little longer. “Hold this. Can you hold it?”

“Yyy… yes,” Hutch said with clattering teeth. The wind slammed them mercilessly and made his body in the cold water shiver even more. Starsky, frantically working to get Hutch out, wasn’t aware of the cold, but Hutch couldn’t stop himself from shaking.

“Hey – go on. I want to see how this ends.”

“I thought I was writing about antiquities…?”

“A person’s entitled to change,” Jack said indignantly. “Well? What are you waiting for? Write, girl. Don’t let that poor bastard drown.”

“Poor bastard?! Hutch is NOT a poor bastard!”

“Ho, ho!” He put his hands up in surrender. “Okay. I’ll rephrase that. Will you PLEASE go on?”

“There’s my boy,” said Starsky encouragingly. “I’ll be right back. When we get of this, you buy me a beer, alright?”

“I’ll go ffff… for a… hot…ttttea, okkkk…kay?”

“Sure. Don’t go anywhere, you hear?” Starsky disappeared, leaving a few wrinkling circles on the surface that were quickly blown away.

“They talk like that?”

“Yeah. That’s the way they deal with the rotten things in life,” I stated.

“O. Right. Sounds fair.”

Again, it took ages before Starsky seemed to come back. The water had now reached Hutch’s lips and he tried to hold the tube that Starsky had given him. He had to use both hands – he shook so vehemently from the cold that it was difficult to hold it to his mouth and keep his lips closed around it.

It was a terrifying feeling. Hutch thought he was choking. He breathed through the narrow pipe, trying to stay calm, but it was scary to feel the water over his cheeks, his ears, his eyes… he closed them and tried to focus on his friend who now worked somewhere below him.

“Fuck!” Jack said spiritedly. “This is good, E! I never knew you had it in you.”

“It’s not me,” I said. “It’s the two that make the story – I’m just the messenger.”

Panic began to crawl its way into Hutch’s heart. A gulp of water washed over his mouth when the tube was nearly pulled from his hands by the force of the water.

No, No!

Stay calm, Hutch. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I’m right here.

He could feel pulling and pushing at his ankle. Starsky! Starsky, don’t let me die. Help me out of here!

I’m right here, buddy. Don’t panic. Keep your head together. It was as if Starsky stood next to Hutch and spoke to him, calming him, reassuring him.

What if the water reaches the top of the tube?

Stay cool, Hutch. Stay cool. I’m on it.

A yank, another pull and suddenly he was free. He could feel his foot coming lose from the vice grip it was in, and strong hands that urgently pushed him up.

“So he managed to get him free?”

“He sure did. They always take care of each other, Jack. You finally begin to see the big picture?”

He laughed sheepishly. “What do you call it? Fan friction?”

“Ha ha, smart ass.”

“Just teasing. It’s great you do this.”

“Yeah? Tell it to my sense of embarrassment.”

“Hutch? Come on pal, it’s over. We’ve got to get out of here. How’s your foot? Can you walk?”

Hutch sat on hands and knees on the drenched, filthy ground and threw up. After a few deep breaths, he nodded. “I’m okkk…kay now. God, ttt….that www…as ccll… close.”

“On your feet, let’s go. You’re freezing and by the way – so am I.”

Starsky pulled Hutch up and supported Hutch whose sore ankle and foot hindered a rapid walk to the car.

Quickly, Starsky wrapped Hutch in a blanket and shoved him in the passenger’s seat.

“Thhhanks,” Hutch stuttered, still very cold but also very grateful for the blanket. “I owe you a bbbb…eer.”

“I don’t mind a cup of tea either,” Starsky said, turned the heating up and hit the gas.

“I’m ruining your sss..seat,” Hutch muttered tiredly.

“You’re forgiven. For now. You pay the cleaner’s?”

No answer. Hutch had his eyes closed and cherished the warmth, knowing his friend to take care of business.

As he always would. Me and Thee.

“That’s it,” I said. “If you want to read more, just take a look at the incredible writers in the community.”

“What’s that last line? Me and Thee?”

I laughed, a bit secretly.

“Wait a minute, I get it,” Jack said. “It means they take care of each other, right? They depend and trust each other. Am I right? Am I?”

I patted him on the shoulder and closed the file I was working on.

“Jack, you’re learning faster than I thought was possible.”

“I could do with a beer. You fancy one?”

I grinned. “A beer? Me? I’d go for a coffee.”

“Coffee it’ll be then. And E?”

“What?”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re writing is not bad. I find it pretty impressive you can.”

“It’s not the writing. It’s the topic. Somehow I don’t tell it to people very quickly.”

“Well, you’ve got me hooked.”

“Thanks, Jack. That’s mighty nice of you to say.”

“Fan fiction, ‘ey?”

“Yeah. Fan fiction.”

The End

Elsa, April 2004