“Hi, my name’s Ken Hutchinson, and I hate Christmas.” Hutch said out loud to himself while waiting for the road ahead him to clear. He grumpily wondered if he’d be lucky enough to get to the precinct before lunchtime.

Hutch had spent the last forty minutes annoyingly trapped in a traffic jam. It had been caused by a truck that had overturned in the middle of the road. Fortunately, the driver had come through the accident almost unharmed, but most of his cargo had been propelled out of the back, spreading cardboard boxes filled with Santa dolls all over the filthy pavement. As if that was not enough, a persistent drizzle was turning the already heavy morning traffic into true chaos.

“It serves you right!” Hutch snapped childishly at the Santa dolls littering the asphalt, as their red suits and white beards became dirtier and more soaked by the thin rain.

He kept waiting, nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, glaring at the garlanded streets and the Christmas trees standing behind store windows. Of all the things that a man in his right mind could brood over while being stuck in a traffic jam, right then, Hutch was absentmindedly playing with the bizarre idea of founding a society of Christmas-haters members. Surely he couldn’t be the only one to hate the holidays season…

It’d be sort of an Alcoholics Anonymous, but made up of people who hate Christmas and who find themselves growing grumpier and more miserable with every passing day of this damn holiday season. And we wouldn’t try to get rid of our dislike for the season; absolutely not. Instead, we’d rejoice and nurture our loathing for the whole Christmas crap. The blond one idly mulled over these thoughts while the road ahead him began to clear. Finally he was able to move.

Truth to be told, despite his current gloomy mood, the year that was about to end had been a good one for Hutch. No injuries in the line of duty, no troubles or tragedies striking his family in Duluth, which was a matter that Hutch still cared about despite the nearly insurmountable differences between the young man and his parents. On the other hand, his divorce with Vanessa was almost finalized and he had ended his partnership of a year and a half with Randall Crawford. Crawford was a hardened older police officer who had turned Hutch´s first period of active duty since his graduation from the Police Academy into a very disappointing experience.

To Hutch´s relief, two weeks ago he had finally achieved his goal of being promoted from uniformed patrolman to plainclothes detective, though, so far, he hadn’t been allowed to start doing any real detective work. At the moment, Detective Kenneth Hutchinson was stuck behind his desk doing paperwork while his superior officer, Captain Harold Dobey, tried to find the right partner for him.

Eventually, Hutch reached the station, parking his battered car in the lot. He entered the squad room ready to start a new day consisting mostly of boring piles of reports and incomplete paperwork. Saying good morning to his companions, Hutch headed to his desk. He sat down behind it, looking with badly concealed scorn at the large Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the large room, decorated with lights, multicolored balls and golden tinsel.

“Hutchinson, Dobey wants you in his office.” One of his fellow detectives said. Hutch got to his feet and headed to his Captain’s office, bracing himself for a reprimand. He had never been this late for work before.

“Oh man! For God’s sake! Stop doing that and keep still! You´re giving me a headache! And get that ridiculous thing off your head!” Dobey bellowed, taking Hutch aback. Not realizing that he was out of Dobey´s line of vision and therefore those words couldn’t have been addressed to him, Hutch’s first reaction was to stop in his tracks and run both of his hands through his hair, trying to find in there the item that seemed to have utterly annoyed his superior officer.

“Come on, Cap! Just a while ago you told me that I could decorate your office with Christmas stuff!” A familiar male voice complained from inside the room.

“You´re right, young man! But I did not tell you that you could do it in your working hours! You’re about to be introduced to your new partner! Do you want him to think that he’s been partnered up with one of the maintenance guys? Now, Detective, put that damn tinsel back in its box!” Dobey barked.

Hutch knocked softly on the ajar door.

“Come in!” The older man grunted.

“Oh, come on, sir! Who is it? Tell me who’s going to be my partner, please!” The other voice inside the Captain’s office begged just as Hutch stepped in. “I don’t want just any new partner! I want Hutch. Cap! I´d put in an official request for that! You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Kenneth Hutchinson. I want to introduce you to your new partner David Starsky. David Starsky I want to introduce you to your new partner, Kenneth Hutchinson.” Dobey recited quickly before Starsky could interrupt him again.

Starsky, bewildered, spun on his heel to face Hutch.

“Hey!... Hutch! You?… You’re going to be my partner? It isn’t a joke? I really got it?” Starsky asked enthusiastically, holding his hand out to shake Hutch´s.

“Well, looks so, pal.” Hutch answered, shaking the other’s hand. His bad mood began to dissipate, replaced with a new feeling of contentment. He didn´t know that he was going to be partnered so quickly, much less with the man he had requested. David Starsky happened to be the best friend Hutch had. They had met during his training in the Academy, and at that moment, he couldn’t be more satisfied with the arrangement.

“Okay, I’ve done my part in this. It’s settled, gentlemen. You both are partners.” Dobey stated seriously. “Now Hutchinson, let’s take care of a different issue. Mind telling me why the hell you came this late to work?”

“Well, captain,” Hutch began to explain. “It turns out that there was a traffic accident on my way here. A truck was upturned in the middle of the road and all its cargo of Santas were scattered on the pavement and…”

“Its cargo of what?” Dobey inquired casting an exasperated look at his detective.

“Santa’s dolls, Captain, you know, those small-”

“Oh, okay, Hutchinson, it’s okay. Forget it,” The Captain cut off tiredly. He propped both elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. “I have a headache and I´m not in the mood to hear weird stuff. Now, detectives, please, I dearly beg you to go back to your desks to get some paperwork done, or go hit the streets to catch some bad guys, or even clean a few windows if you both don’t have anything better to do. Go do whatever you have to, but do it out of here, for crying out loud! Now!” Dobey commanded. He pointed his forefinger at the door.

“Yeah Captain. We’re going.” Hutch said compliantly.

“Thanks Captain.” Both men answered almost simultaneously before heading to the door.

“Oh, excuse me cap…” Starsky said, turning to look innocently at Dobey

“Yeah, Starsky?”

“Please, sir. Mind if I have this hat that I found in the Christmas´ stuff box? It’s really cool!” The brunet said cheerily, patting the Santa hat on his head as Hutch fought to stifle a burst of laughter.

“What?... Oh, yeah, the hat.” Dobey said, rolling his eyes. “Sure, Starsky, you can have it. But I´m warning you, young man. Don’t you dare to go out on the streets wearing that stupid thing or you’re going back to directing traffic for the next six months. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sure, Captain… Don’t worry, sir. I won’t wear it in the street.” The brunet answered seriously before turning to leave the office. He did not take the hat off of his head.

“Come on, Hutch, we’ve got a lot to catch up on since the last time we saw each other.” Starsky said, merrily. He took the blond one by his elbow, almost dragging him out of Dobey´s office as Hutch took a closer look at the Santa’s hat that stood on top of Starsky´s curly head, and which apparently he was willing to keep wearing in the squad room.

“Hey! What have we got here? A new and improved version of old good Santa?” A young, attractive female officer asked on seeing the good-looking brunet stepping out of the Captain’s office.

“I´m Detective Dave Starsky, sweetheart. The new kid on the block. I just got transferred today from the third precinct. And if everything goes nicely I’m planning on staying here for a long while.” Starsky introduced himself, flashing his most charming smile at the woman before kissing her chivalrously on the back of her hand.

“Guess what, Detective Dave Starsky? I think this precinct is going to be a much nicer place to work in from now on. My name’s Steph, by the way. Steph Sanders. If someday you feel like it, maybe we could go out for a drink, or something,” she offered in a flirtatious tone. Hutch headed back to his desk, and sat down in his chair watching with amusement the interaction between his impish new partner and Steph.

Of course, Starsky’s behavior wasn’t anything new for Hutch. He knew the curly-haired man from their academy days. Hutch had learned how much Starsky liked to have fun, to flirt with girls and to look always for the brighter side of life. But Hutch knew also how trustworthy, kind, and unselfish Starsky was. He knew for sure that the man he had just gotten as a partner was the best back up that a police officer could have out on the streets. And he was very thankful for that.

XXXXXXX

Over the next few days, Starsky and Hutch began patrolling the streets together, quickly getting used to their new routine, and their work together as a team, something that, as they had expected, went smoothly. Besides, each man was a fine partner and a true, caring friend for the other. Starsky’s natural zest for life balanced Hutch’s more pessimistic attitude, and the blond one couldn’t help but enjoyed spending most of his time off with Starsky, going with him to “The Pits” for a beer or having dinner and watching a ball game or a movie on TV at his or his partner’s place.

On the other hand, there was something that soon got on Hutch´s nerves, and that was the childlike euphoria that took hold of his partner during the Christmas season. Actually, the first time that he was about to get into Starsky’s car, the blond detective was almost tempted to turn around and drive to the station in his own car. The chords of a carol coming from the radio, plus Starsky´s voice humming along, were the first sounds to reach Hutch´s ears. Then, he saw a Star of David sharing the inside of the Torino with a small Rudolph plus a few small Christmas balls and shining garlands of tinsel.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Starsk! How the hell can you drive around with all those stuff you got in here? This doesn’t look like a car, it looks like a Christmas float!” Hutch groused as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Come on, Hutch, cheer up, will ya? It’s Christmas!” Starsky answered, firing up the engine.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve noticed it, you bet I did.” Hutch answered moodily, looking through the passenger window of the Torino.

More days went by; meanwhile Hutch kept doing his best to cope with the endless enthusiasm his over-energetic partner felt for Christmas’s until just two days before the start of the holidays, the unavoidable happened. Both men were in the squad room typing reports, when Starsky invited Hutch to spend Christmas Eve at his place...

“Hey Hutch…” Starsky asked, as he stopped typing to look at his partner.

“Yeah?”

“How about a Christmas Eve dinner at my place? You know, this year I´m not going to mom’s, neither are you going to Duluth…”

“Oh, no, Starsky. Count me out of that, okay?”

“Oh, come on, Hutch. It’ll be fun.” Starsky tried again.

“I said no Starsky. All that Christmas crap makes me sick.” Hutch answered tersely.

“In ´All that Christmas crap´ do you include a dinner with the one you claim is your best friend?” Starsky inquired then, in a tone of voice that instantly attracted Hutch´s attention.

“Oh, come on Starsky. You know what I mean. I’m not in the mood for-“

“Tell me something, buddy.” Starsky cut him off. “What’s wrong with you and Christmas, huh? And what’s your problem with people who love Christmas, anyway?”

“I haven’t any problem with people who love Christmas, Starsk, it’s just that the whole thing seems to me just plain...”

“See? That´s my point.” Starsky interrupted again. “You’re about to said ridiculous, or silly or perhaps something even more hurtful. Know something, partner? Maybe you should think a little about how you´re doing nothing but trying to make me feel like a moron just because I enjoy the holidays.”

“Starsk… Listen, Starsky I… I’m very sorry, I didn´t mean that.” Hutch apologized earnestly, feeling deep shame at the hurt in his partner’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that I can’t stand Christmas, and it looks like I can’t help myself. These holidays turn me into a guy who’s pretty hard to hang out with, I guess.”

A few seconds passed in which neither men spoke. Finally, Starsky took a deep breath and said, “It’s okay, Hutch… Nothing to be sorry about. Let’s just drop the matter, huh? It was just an idea, no big deal.” He got to his feet and headed to the coffee pot, where he poured a cup of coffee for himself and another one for his partner.

For the next several minutes, both men worked in a rather strained silence. Hutch deeply regretted his thoughtless attitude towards Starsky. Of all the people he knew, his partner was the one who least deserved his nastiness, no matter how down or cranky he felt. Hutch was aware that Starsky wanted nothing but to share with him his good spirits and celebrate their life and their friendship. Hutch, deep inside, knew that regardless of his own, or Starsky’s, religious beliefs, and despite the fact that the real meaning of Christmas was sadly tainted by the commercialism of the season, his life was full of good reasons to celebrate, and Christmas was as good a moment as any other to do it, if that would make Starsky happier.

Okay Hutch…Let’s see if still there’s any way to mend things here. Hutch decided suddenly. He stopped typing.

“I´ll bring the eggnog, Starsk…” He said then tentatively.

“Huh?” Starsky asked raising his eyes from the report he was typing to look at Hutch.

“For the Christmas Eve dinner…I mean, if you still want to spend it with this sorry version of the Grinch.” Hutch smiled apologetically.

“You joking! Of course I wanna! I’ll be fun, Hutch, you’ll see!” Starsky exclaimed, bouncing back to his usual exuberance. “I´ll get a turkey and the trimmings and all the stuff needed to fix the gravy and you can help me to stuff the bird and roast it and…”

“Whoa partner! Stop that! I haven’t any idea how to cook a turkey, but if you like I could fix a wonderful vegetarian lasagna and…”

“Forget it, Hutchinson. Do you hear me?” Starsky made a face “Get that disgusting idea outta your mind. I´ll ask Huggy for some recipes and we’ll cook a real Christmas Eve dinner. I’m not going to eat anything of that strange green stuff you´re so fond of. Got it?”

“Okay, buddy, okay. Got it. No green, weird stuff for Christmas dinner.” Hutch said with mock seriousness. He pulled his report out of the typewriter, carefully putting it in a nearby folder.

“You’re done there?” Starsky asked, getting to his feet and pulling his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Sure. You?”

“Well, not exactly, but I guess this stuff can wait until tomorrow.” Starsky answered, nonchalantly. “We gotta go shopping for groceries, Blondie.”

The rest of that evening and the next day as well, after their shift ended, both men busied themselves getting all the needed stuff. They asked Huggy and Starsky´s mother for some recipes for their holiday meal. Besides that, during the brief moments in which they weren’t together, both partners managed to get a few presents that they guessed the other would like. Starsky got a guitar plus a beautifully carved leather guitar strap for Hutch; and Hutch, enjoying the anticipation much more that he had guessed, bought a new photo camera and a photography book for Starsky.

Finally, Christmas Eve came. That morning both detectives started a new day at work, never guessing that they were about to face the most shocking and sad case of their yet short career as police detectives…

That sunny and cold morning, shortly after leaving the precinct for their daily routine of patrolling the streets, they responded to a call from dispatch. While most of the city’s inhabitants were getting ready to celebrate, both detectives found themselves in the bedroom of a small neglected apartment downtown, collecting evidence to find out if the young black woman, whose frail and thin corpse had been found in her bed with a hypodermic syringe still stuck in the crook of her arm had died of a heroin overdose or if she had unknowingly injected herself with tainted drug. By her side there was a small and motionless baby girl wrapped in a ragged little blanket. She was a newborn and according the paramedics´ first estimation she had to have been born just about ten or twelve hours earlier.

“What do you think, Joey? Is the kid going to make it?” Hutch asked the older of the paramedics, as he and his companion settled the baby into the ambulance.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Hutchinson.” Joey answered, gloomily shaking his head. “She’s in critical condition… From the condition of the mother’s body, I’d guess that this poor baby has been cold and hungry for too long. Right now her vitals are weak and her heartbeat is thready,and in all likelihood, she’s also suffering from withdrawal… No, I don’t think that she’ll be able to make it.”

“Oh, man… Life sucks!” Starsky snapped, angrily kicking an empty soda can that littered the ground at his feet.

“Yeah, boy. You´re right. Life sucks” Joey agreed defeatedly.

“Where are you taking the kid, Joey?” The curly-haired detective asked.

“Memorial.” The paramedic said before the ambulance, with lights flashing and siren wailing, sped away.

Once the ambulance and the coroner’s wagon had left, Starsky and Hutch began knocking on doors in the apartment block, questioning the few neighbors. They learned that the woman’s name was Rhonda Jackson. The neighbors told them too, that Rhonda was single and apparently she wasn´t currently in a relationship with a man. They also stated the obvious. That Rhonda had been a heavy heroin consumer, even before she became pregnant.

Feeling useless and disappointed, Starsky and Hutch left the neighborhood. The rest of their shift passed uneventfully, though both men were unable to take their minds out of the scene that had unfolded before them hours earlier. After finding the corpse of that woman and her unlucky baby, they felt angry with a fate that would allow such outrageous things to happen.

Finally, that afternoon, they drove separately to their places. Once at home, Hutch took a shower, changed his clothes and got the presents for his friend before driving back to Starsky´s apartment.

The first thing that Hutch noticed as he pulled to a stop in front of his partner’s place was that Starsky’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. Then, climbing the stairs, he saw that all the lights inside the apartment were off, though he could smell the enticing aromas of food coming from the kitchen.

Hutch rang the bell once, but as he guessed, there was no answer from inside. He reached up above the doorframe and got the key he knew he would find there, unlocking the door.

“Starsky?” He called out, as he turned on the lights in the living room and headed to the kitchen.

“Starsky, are you at home?” Hutch asked again, as a feeling of uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Opening the cold oven he saw the turkey half cooked inside. The only item on the kitchen table was a red tablecloth printed with mistletoe leaves. That and a small slip of paper on which Starsky had scribbled a brief note.

I´m very sorry Hutch, but I just can’t be here celebrating Christmas while she’s alone and scared.

I’ve tried to reach you at home but it looks like you are already on your way here. I tried the station too, but they were unable to patch me through to you. I hope you’ll understand and you won’t be too mad at me.

I´ll make it up to you somehow, promise.

Starsk.

Hutch´s puzzlement lasted just seconds. Starsky’s note wasn’t particularly clear, but Hutch knew without the shadow of a doubt where he would find his partner.

xxxxxxx

Feeling half-annoyed and half-touched, the chief nurse of the pediatric wing of Memorial hospital was trying to make the stubborn brunet in front of her understand that no one but closest relatives were allowed in the small ICU room where the little baby without a name was apparently losing, hour by hour, the battle for her life.

“Listen, lady, most likely that baby’s not going to make it. You just told me so a moment ago, so what harm can I do by being there? It’s Christmas Eve and that poor kid is alone, for God sake!” Starsky kept relentlessly insisting.

“I know what I said, detective. And also, if you remember, I said that no one but her closest relatives are allowed to be with that baby. I´m sorry, but the hospital rules…”

“To the hell with the hospital rules!” Starsky barked, finally losing his temper. “That baby might not make it through the night, her only known relative is in a freezer in the morgue, and you’re talking me about rules? Oh, come on, nurse, cut the crap!”

The nurse lowered her eyes, shaking her head. Starsky stood a few inches away from her, expectantly waiting for any answer that might come from the woman.

“Oh, damn! Okay, detective, it’s okay. You win,” she said finally, raising her hands. “If this gets out I could find myself starting the New Year working as cleaning lady, but-”

“Thanks! You´re beautiful!” Starsky grabbed the older nurse’s arms and planted a kiss in her cheek before striding towards the corridor where the ICU nursery was located.

“Wait!” The woman called, trotting after Starsky. “Wait a moment, detective!”

“Now what?” Starsky asked impatiently.

“You must put on a sterile gown, gloves and mask before going in there! The baby’s immune system is very weak. Besides, I haven’t told you the number of her room,” she said. She smiled at the vehement young man as she lead him back to a nearby closet, where Starsky put on sterile clothes. Finally, he was allowed to get to the newborn’s room .

“Hey little one.” He crooned, as he approached the small cot where the baby lay unconscious. He gently lifted her, easing her in his arms, careful not to pull on the tiny tubes and wires attached to the frail body.

“My name’s Dave, and I´m here to spend Christmas Eve with you… By the way, do you mind if I give you a name? You know, everybody has a name, so you must have one, too. Your name will be Angel... Do you like it? It’s a nice name, and besides, it suits you.” Starsky stated. He picked up the little blanket from the cot and wrapped the baby with it

“Know something, Angel? No kid should be alone and scared on a night like this one, honey. That just doesn’t seem right. But you don’t have to worry about that, because you´re not alone. I´m here with you.” He assured the little kid, as he sat down in the white rocking chair by the cot.

“I´ll be with you as long as it takes... Whether you decide to stay with us, or if you prefer to go and be forever with other little angels like you, I´ll stay with you until the end, Angel… Though, if you want to know my opinion, I’d rather like you to stay, to grow up and turn into a beautiful little girl,” Starsky said, softly caressing the infant’s head.

“That would be t’rrific, honey. Life’s got plenty of fun things to do, and nice people who’d love you dearly, with all their heart. I´m sure of that. You’d get a new family. A new mom that would take good care of you, would fix your favorite meals, and would read tales to you every night before sleep. Besides, she’d give you Christmas presents every year… maybe, even a puppy. A nice, soft puppy to play with in the yard of your house. Oh! And most likely you’d get a best friend. Somebody that would bless your life as Hutch has blessed mine… wanna know what I think, honey? I think that if you give up, you´re going to miss lots of great stuff.” Starsky stopped talking for a few minutes to stare thoughtfully at the unresponsive small body that he was cuddling in his arms.

“Yeah, I know, Angel, I know. Right now you´re exhausted and in pain, and you only want to move to a better place than this strange world that has welcomed you so nastily… A place where you’d be happy and in peace. I can guess how you feel. Anyway, you could think twice about it, and give yourself a second chance, dunno, maybe just enough to find out if things can become better for you from now on. I bet that you won’t regret it, Angel… how about giving it a try, huh? What do you say?” Starsky waited for a moment as if expecting the baby to answer. “You only have to keep breathing, like you´re doing right now, breathing and asking your little heart to keep beating… it can’t be that difficult, I guess…”

“Do you know what carols are, Angel?” The brunet asked, then. “No, of course you don’t. Nobody has ever sang you any, right?... Well, never mind. Now I´m going to sing you one and then you’ll be able to know if you like them or not. I have to tell you that I´m not a great singer. Actually, Hutch sings much better than I do, but I’ll do my best.”

Having said that, Starsky, never ceasing his gentle rocking, began singing for Angel the first chords of Silent night´, when, a soft, deep voice joined him. He raised his eyes to see Hutch, wearing sterile clothes like his own, crouching down by his side. He kept singing as his eyes met Starsky’s, conveying all the emotions that he was unable to put into words.

“Sorry, Hutch.” Starsky apologized once the song had ended. “I’ve ruined your night… After bugging you so much with all the Christmas stuff, look what I did.”

“No, Starsk. You haven’t ruined anything.” Hutch said, getting to his feet and fondly squeezing Starsky’s shoulder. He brought a chair closer and sat down. “Actually, you did nothing but show me once and for all what’s all that about.”

“What´s what?” Starsky asked at a loss.

“Christmas… What the real meaning of Christmas is… And guess what? I think love it. I really do.”

“Yep… Me too. Despite the nastiness of the world, Christmas is a beautiful season.” Starsky agreed, contentedly.

More carols followed the first one and also a few children tales, lullabies and long periods of silence as both men, alternately, would hold the newborn in their arms. Several times during those hours the chief nurse came into the room to check on Angel’s vitals. She adjusted her IV and gave the tiny baby her meds. And meanwhile, surrounded by love, Angel kept holding on, slowly but steadily pushing death away, as daylight soon would push away the darkness of the night.

“Tell me something, Hutch. Don’t you miss the snow?” Starsky asked, looking at the window and nostalgically remembering the happy Christmases he had spent back in New York, when his father was alive.

“Well… actually I miss it a little, I guess. But I don’t mind at all being able to go to the beach for a walk in December or January while my folks in Duluth are freezing to death,” Hutch joked, as he gently held Angel’s hand in his much larger one.

“Yeah, you got a point there. It’s not so bad,” Starsky conceded, still lost in memories.

“Hey Starsk! Look at that!” Hutch said then, pointing with his forefinger at one point above the city’s lights, where a shooting star was crossing the night’s sky.

“Hey! That´s cool! It isn’t snow, but it’s cool just the same!” Starsky exclaimed, looking at the sky with childlike awe. “I wish Angel was able to see it.”

“There will be more shooting stars, partner. And with a little of luck she’d be able to see them.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. I do,” Hutch answered reassuringly. “Look at her, Starsk. This baby’s a fighter. She’s still holding on… That must mean something, I guess.”

“Have you made a wish, buddy?” Starsky inquired then seriously, looking at the sleeping baby.

“A wish? Besides a long and happy life for Angel, you mean?”

“Yep.”

“Well… I think that already I have all I can ask for,” Hutch said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. All of that.”

“Guess what, partner? Me too. Absolutely all.” Starsky said, contentedly.

“Oh!... Starsk?” Hutch said then, as if suddenly remembering something.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas, buddy.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Christmas came and went and as the days passed, both detectives kept visiting the hospital to spend with Angel as much time as their work schedules would allow. Finally, after some setbacks and against all the odds, as a new year started, the small baby began to pull through and grow stronger. And, though all the pediatric staff were unable to find a rational explanation for that improvement, Hutch was sure that he knew the answer. He also knew that Starsky, that cheerful, compassionate, clever man that he was proud to call his best friend, had taught him a valuable lesson…

Starsky had shown Hutch the real meaning of Christmas…The real meaning of love.

THE END

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