Author: Daydreamer
Posted: 11 March 2003
Alice and Roxie: A Little Sensitivity
"You know, maybe if you'd pulled her in when you could have, this wouldn't have happened."
"Maybe if you'd pulled her in when you could have, this wouldn't have happened."
"Maybe if you'd pulled her in when you could have, this wouldn't have happened."
"Pulled her in."
"Wouldn't have happened."
"Pulled her in."
"Wouldn't have happened."
"You could have."
"Wouldn't have happened."
"Wouldn't have happened."
"Wouldn't have happened."
"ARRRGGGGGHHHHH!"
My own roar woke me up. Damn! The neighbors must be getting pretty tired of hearing their resident cop scream in the dead of night. I hadn't been able to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time since Roxie had been killed. That damn reporter's words haunted me.
And the worst part of it was -- she was right.
If I had picked Roxie up, instead of helping her out, she'd still be alive. That simple fact was eating me alive. And how many others were dead now, because I didn't use the law when I had the chance?
I rose from the sticky sheets, my skin clammy as the sweat began to dry and headed for the shower. It was only half past midnight -- not too late for what I had in mind.
I showered and shaved and dressed and hit the bars. She wasn't in the first two, but I finally found her at Jake's. She was seated at the bar, sipping an amber drink that I knew would be scotch, and she seemed to be just -- waiting.
"Alice," I said softly as I approached. "How's it going, kid?"
I could see the smile even before she turned to look at me, saying, "Hiya, Handsome. What brings you out to Jake's?"
"You, babe," I whispered. "I'm so sorry ..."
I could see the confusion in her eyes, the sudden hope that flared and then died, and then the fear that slipped across her features and settled there.
Wary of me.
Wary of what was to come.
I cleared my throat, then said, "You are under arrest for solicitation ..."
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped, "Hutch! No!"
"You have the right to remain silent ..."
She reached out and touched my arm, breaking my rhythm. "Hutch," she repeated, "What is this?"
I shook my head and started again. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney ..."
Her hand was on my arm again, and when I looked at her there were tears in her eyes. Aw shit! I didn't want to make her cry. I just wanted to get her off the street and keep her alive. "... and to have one present during questioning."
"Why're you doing this to me, Hutch?" she asked.
I shook my head again. Why was I doing this? Oh, yeah. Because Roxie was dead and I didn't do anything to stop it from happening.
"If you so desire but cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you at government expense." I stared at her, at the fear on her face and tears in her eyes, and asked, "Do you understand these rights as they have been explained to you?"
"Do you understand that I'll make bail in the morning and be back at work tomorrow night?"
"I'll arrest you again," I said, my voice breaking.
She watched me for a long time, and I wondered what she saw in my face. I know what I saw in hers. Betrayal. She thought I had betrayed her and it was breaking her heart. And then I saw it -- something shifted in her eyes, and she cocked her head to the side. I knew now that meant she was considering something, sifting things in her mind and choosing her words carefully. She reached out and took my hand. It was big and rough in her smaller one, and her thumb caressed the back of it. "Come sit with me, Hutch?" she asked quietly, nodding toward a booth on the far wall.
I nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and when she told Ted to bring us two more scotch and waters, I didn't object. I sat where she pointed and watched as she slipped in across from me. I was being awfully trusting with my suspect. I guess I figured she wouldn't run, or if she did, I could catch her. "You're not going to run on me, are you, Alice?" I asked. "I really don't feel like chasing you."
She nodded. "I can see you're not feeling real good, Handsome."
Ted brought the drinks and I thanked him, slipping a twenty on the tray. I swallowed mine in one gulp and motioned for a refill.
"And no, I'm not going to run," Alice added as she sipped her scotch.
I remembered her saying something about one sip of scotch and the world just mellows right out. "Do you always drink when you work, Alice?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Usually."
"Why?"
Her eyes were clear as she studied me. "How about this, Hutch? I'll trade you an answer for an answer."
Seemed fair to me. Ted was back with my drink, and I drained this one, too, and still wanted more. The fire warmed my belly and the soft haze that seemed to encompass me was welcome. I wanted more.
"Why are you here?" she asked, still sipping the same drink she'd had at the bar.
"Just something that girl said. Made me think," I mumbled.
"What girl?"
"Reporter. Wrote the article."
"What did she say?"
I shook my head. "Nuh-uh. My turn." When she nodded I asked, "Why do you drink when you work?"
"It dulls it. Dulls everything." This time, she took a big swallow from her drink, and I wondered what was going on in her head.
"What did the reporter say?" she prodded when Ted came back to the table. I only sipped this one, but I still told him to bring me another.
"Roxie died," I said softly, and confusion crossed Alice's face.
"Who's Roxie?"
"Why do you want to dull things?" I knew what she meant though. The scotch was raw and powerful. It raced through my veins and left a tingling numbness behind. I welcomed it.
"Do you think I really enjoy what I do, Hutch?" Her eyes were averted and she seemed acutely uncomfortable.
"Is that your answer or are you taking your turn now?" I asked, totally aware of what a crappy thing it was to say and just not caring.
She sighed, and the defeat in that simple sound went straight to my heart. "I don't want to go back and forth anymore, Hutch," she said simply. "Tell me what happened with Roxie and I'll answer your questions, okay?"
I nodded, then drained my glass. Was that three or four? I was losing count. "Roxie died," I repeated. "She -- helped -- me sometimes. An informant, I guess you could say." I looked at her and saw she was paying rapt attention to my every word. "She died and the reporter said it was my fault."
"Your fault?" Alice's indignation was clear, and it warmed me almost as much as the scotch. At least somebody didn't think I wanted this to happen.
"We'd gone to see her the day before, and she was hurting."
"She's a user?" Alice interrupted.
"Was," I said shortly. "She got some bad junk, and now she's dead."
"And the reporter said it was your fault?"
"If I'd arrested her, instead of giving her money, she'd have been in a jail cell and not out scrounging for a fix."
"I'm not a user," she said firmly. "I never have been."
"Then why do you drink? Why the scotch?"
She shrugged. "Not your turn yet." She sipped at her own drink, and watched as I downed yet another and caught Ted's eye. "This isn't really about Roxie or about me, is it, Hutch?" she said, and I was again amazed at how she saw through me. She reached out and took the glass from my hand, then captured it in her own. "You can't save everyone, Hutch. No one can."
"Oh, God, Alice," I breathed, "it hurts!" I dropped my head to the table, fighting not to cry, and felt gentle fingers carding through my hair. She was murmuring to me, and then I heard her tell Ted to bring coffee from now on. Was I drunk?
"I know, baby," she whispered, "I know. But you're not responsible for the pain." She stroked my head, petting me and I let myself soak up the comfort of her touch, the comfort of her words. "Roxie made her own choices -- it wasn't your fault." She drew a deep breath, and with my head down, I could clearly imagine the way her head would be cocked to one side as she prepared to tell me something about herself. "I make my own choices, too, Hutch. Not always the best choices, not always the smartest. But they're mine. And no one has the right to take that away from me."
Her hand fell away and I lifted my head, looking at her. "You can stop, Sweetness," I promised her. "There are people who can help. You can get out."
"Maybe," she said softly. "Someday. But for now, Hutch, this is what I do." She fixed me with her eyes, staring me down until I had to look away. "And you can't change that."
I nodded, defeated.
"Stay here," she ordered and I did. I stared at the mirror over the bar and sipped the cup of hot coffee that had appeared before me and thought about what she'd said. I couldn't make her stop just by arresting her. I couldn't even keep her safe that way. I wasn't even sure anymore why I'd thought I could.
She came back but didn't sit. "I called Starsky," she said softly. "He's coming to take you home."
I just nodded, miserable.
"I take it I can go now? I'm no longer under arrest?"
"Yeah." The coffee was good -- strong and black. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
She smiled then, the first real smile I'd seen from her since I read her her rights. "That's okay, Hutch. I haven't had anyone care about me in a long time. And no one's ever cared enough to arrest me to keep me safe." She reached out and took my hand, lifted it and then kissed the back. "Thank you," she murmured.
"Welcome," I mumbled as she walked away. "Just stay safe, Sweet Alice, safe and alive." I watched her walk away and then slunk down in the booth and waited for my partner to come and get me and take me home.
Disclaimer:
Starsky and Hutch and all related concepts, characters, etc,
belong to Spelling/Goldberg Productions, Inc.