*******
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light
*******
At first Hutch was happy just to hang on, holding this person that he
loved more than anyone. But then the
uncomfortable position, lying half on top of Starsky, half off the
bed, began to wear on him. He hated to move, but the
cramp in his back was deciding things for him.
"Starsky, hey buddy." Hutch wasn't even sure that Starsky was
still awake. He had quieted after a few minutes, but his
arms never relaxed their strangle hold around him. "Starsky,
either let me go or move over. My back's starting to hurt
like this."
Starsky shifted, easing up a bit, but not letting go completely.
He wiggled over towards the center of the bed, pulling
Hutch with him. Hutch had no choice but to stretch out beside
him. He tried to get comfortable, but with his jacket
bunched up under him, and his gun poking him in the other side where
Starsky's arm lay against it, it wasn't easy. He
knew that eventually he'd have to get up, if only to get rid of those
distractions. But at this moment, he didn't really care
about that. Starsky needed him, really needed him, to comfort
him. And as long as Starsky needed him, he wouldn't
move for anything else in the world. Because his whole world
was here in his arms.
They lay like that, on top of the blankets, Starsky in his bathrobe,
Hutch in his street clothes for a long time. Lying with
Starsky's arms around him and his head nestled in the space under Hutch's
chin. Hutch had almost fallen asleep when
Starsky rolled over onto his back, taking his arm away. The sudden
movement and the withdrawal of the light pressure
made him feel bereft. It had felt so natural, so right, for them
to lay like that, that he had almost forgotten the
circumstances of it all. Hutch leaned up on one elbow and looked
down at the shadowed face beside him.
"You okay?" He wanted nothing more than to touch that face, run
a hand along that cheek. Feel the soft curls beneath
his fingers, but he resisted. Mustn't push things, tread very
carefully. At least until he knew more about what his partner
was thinking.
A smile gleamed in the near darkness; then a small sigh broke the stillness. "Yeah, I think so. I'm sorry, Hutch."
"Whatever for? You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yes I do. For everything. For grabbing onto you like that.
For forgetting you, making you miserable because I was. For
not trusting you. For believing for one minute that you didn't
care about me."
Hutch didn’t understand the last comment. "When did you think
that? What have I done that would ever make you think I
didn't care?"
Starsky pulled his left arm out from under Hutch and laid it across
his chest. He was rubbing the side of his face with the
other hand. Hutch thought for a moment that Starsky was trying
not to cry. "It wasn't anything you did, Hutch, that's why
it's so stupid of me to have doubted you. When that guy, when
I was gone. I don't know how to explain it, Hutch. I'm still
hazy on the details. Anyway, towards the end, he started saying
that no one was ever going to find me. That no one was
even looking for me anymore. That everyone, especially you, figured
I was dead and there was no use searching. That
no one cared enough to bother looking. I guess in the state I
was in, he kept me pretty doped up, I believed him."
His hand covered his eyes, a small tremor in his voice. "I'd always
thought that if I ever needed you, no matter what,
you'd be there. If I ever got lost, you'd never stop looking
for me. I knew I wouldn’t if it was you. No matter what.
When
he kept on at me about you not coming for me, that you gave up on me,
I guess I started to believe."
Starsky put his hand down on top of the other one, hugging himself.
"I was so scared Hutch. I thought I was going to die.
I even wanted to, just so everything would stop hurting so much.
But I couldn't let go because I didn't want to leave you
alone. When he started telling me that you'd stopped looking
for me, I guess I gave up too. Then he started to give me
stronger doses and leave me alone for longer periods. I guess
they were longer, I don't really remember much about
that. I just remember wanting to die. Because if you'd
given up, there was no one left to come for me. If you didn't care
anymore, there was no reason for me to care either."
A long shuddering sigh broke the quiet. Hutch wasn't sure whose.
He couldn't watch that face anymore. The sadness
and remembered fear tore at him. He, too, rolled over onto his
back. But he couldn't bear the loss of contact with his
partner. He stretched out a hand and laid it on top of Starsky's
crossed ones. Starsky turned his hand until he could
grasp Hutch's.
"Starsky, you have to know I would never stop looking for you.
I never doubted for one minute that I'd find you. Even
when, even when we had pretty positive proof you were dead, I didn't
believe it. And even when everything pointed to it,
when the others believed that you were dead, I couldn't stop believing,
stop looking. God, Starsky, it would be like giving
up on myself. I knew that you were alive because I knew that
if you died I'd feel it. You're that important to me." Starsky's
hand gripped harder.
Starsky moved slightly, bringing them a bit closer. "I guess deep
down, somewhere, I knew that. It's just that he kept
saying these awful things about you, about us. And with the drugs
he was pumping into me, I guess I kinda got
brainwashed. I couldn't do anything to defend myself. He
kept me tied up, even though I couldn't have fought my way out
of a wet paper bag. I tried to get away once, he had left me
alone long enough for most of the stuff to wear off but I was
too weak. I got in a couple of good kicks though." Hutch
could feel that self-satisfied grin. Then another sigh. "After
that, he kept my legs tied down and increased the dosage. Before
that, even though I was out of it, I could still think.
After that, I don't remember much. Except how much I missed you."
A huge yawn interrupted Starsky. Regretfully, Hutch pulled his
hand away, giving Starsky's arm a squeeze first. He sat
up and got off the bed. Starsky rolled over, towards him.
"Where you going?"
"You, partner, need some sleep and so do I. I'm going to get you
your antibiotic and some water. Then I'm going to make
up the couch and go to sleep. We can go over things in the morning."
He started to leave the room, when a soft voice
stopped him.
"Hutch, could you do me a favor?"
He turned back towards his partner. "Of course, anything. You know that."
"Would you, please. Would you sleep in here tonight? I've
been alone so long, I just, I want to know you're there."
Starsky was trying hard not to sound like a scared little kid, but
it wasn't working.
At first, he didn't know how to respond to that plea. It wasn't
as if the two of them had never slept in the same bed
before. But things had changed; he had changed. He shook
himself. <Don't be stupid, Hutchinson. He just needs
reassurance. Not anything else.> "Of course, buddy.
If that's what you want. Let me just get your pill and I'll be right
back."
Fitting action to words, Hutch hurried out to the other room to get
the drugstore bag from where he'd left it on the coffee
table. Went to the kitchen for some water and came back to the
bedroom to find Starsky trying to pull the covers down on
the bed. Hutch came up beside him and nudged him with his elbow,
indicating he should take the offered glass and pill.
While Starsky swallowed his medicine, Hutch completed unfolding the
covers. He dumped the rest of the contents of the
bag onto the bedspread and gestured at the bed.
"Get in. I want to look at that head wound too. Make sure
it's not getting worse." Starsky shrugged off the blue robe and
climbed into the middle of the bed. He sat cross-legged, back
against the pillows while he waited for Hutch to sort out the
contents of the bag. The sight of his partner sitting there like
that momentarily distracted Hutch. Clad only in those pale
blue pajama bottoms, all sleepy eyed, supported by the pillows at his
back, he was an enthralling sight. Hutch had to take
firm hold of those thoughts. If he was going to be of any use
to Starsky, now was not the time for such distractions.
Perhaps there would never be a time for them.
He took off his jacket, throwing it on the chair near the foot of the
bed, following it with his holster. He picked up a tube of
antibiotic salve and knelt on the bed beside Starsky. Starsky
tipped his head so that Hutch could get a better view of the
cut. It wasn't as bad as he thought, although it was probably
going to leave a scar. Luckily, it was far enough into the
hairline that Starsky's hair would cover it, once it grew back.
Hutch gently dabbed on some of the salve. He couldn't
actually bandage it without shaving more hair off, and he thought that
it probably didn't really need it. After all, with the
wound uncovered for all this time, it wasn't really going to do any
good at this point.
Once again, Hutch found himself distracted by Starsky's nearness.
The smell of his skin alone was enough to make
Hutch nervous. The combination of the sandalwood soap he used
in the shower and the natural, slightly spicy, scent of
him was as familiar to Hutch as breathing. He had smelled that
blend for all the years of their friendship. He'd just never
really noticed it before. The feel of the tight, silky curls
beneath his fingers, the warmth of his skin all conspired to arouse
something in him. Being able to touch his partner, to hold his
head in his hands was pure joy. Even if it was only to give
medical aid and not for mutual pleasure. <Oh God, what am
I thinking?>
He abruptly let go of Starsky and set back on his heels. Starsky
had been leaning towards Hutch, eyes closed and
practically asleep. Hutch's sudden move almost made him tip over
into Hutch's lap. He caught himself just in time and
peered at his friend with sleepy eyes.
"What?" His voice was slurry from the rude awakening out of his doze.
Hutch tried on a smile. "Sorry, buddy. Just got another
cramp in my back. Had to move fast. Didn't mean to startle
you." <You're becoming a very good liar, Hutchinson.>
Starsky woke enough to be concerned for his partner. "Stop fussing
over me and lay down. If I wasn't so tired, I'd rub
your back for you." His self-effacing grin didn't fool Hutch.
He knew that it would be a while before Starsky was strong
enough to deliver on that suggestion. And at this point, he didn't
know if he would ever dare take him up on it. The mere
thought of Starsky's hands touching his bare skin shook him.
"Yeah, sure. I'm just going to go get ready for bed. Lay down, yourself. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Starsky unwound his legs and tried to get under the covers. Finally
Hutch leaned forward to help him, lifting one of those
legs and pulled the blankets out from under it. It took a few
minutes for Starsky to get comfortable, but Hutch patiently
tried to help. It was while Hutch was leaning over, reaching
behind Starsky's back to free up a corner of the blanket
caught under him, that something made him pause and look down.
Down into those sleepy, dark blue eyes that were
staring up at him with an intensity he found somewhat frightening.
Starsky smiled one of his slow, impish smiles.
Reaching up a hand, he laid it on the back of Hutch's neck and pulled
his head down to his shoulder.
Hutch was afraid to breathe, to move, when he felt Starsky's lips on
his cheek. A quick, light kiss then Starsky released
his head. His hand came to rest on his back, just above his waist
and stayed there. Hutch lay for a moment with his head
on Starsky's shoulder, then, gathering what little strength was left
him, pushed himself up far enough that he could look
into those eyes again. Starsky looked back, a shade defiantly
but still with that impish gleam.
Swallowing, trying to find his voice, Hutch finally asked, "What
was that for?" He hoped the trembling he was
experiencing didn't show in his voice.
"Because I wanted to. You can't know how much I've missed you,
missed us. I know I've never said aloud how much you
mean to me. I guess I just wanted to thank you." Starsky
looked a bit embarrassed at his maudlin speech, but that
defiant look was still there. As if he were daring Hutch to make
something out of both the speech and the kiss.
Hutch put his head back down on Starsky's shoulder for a moment.
"I know, buddy. I know. You mean the world to me
too." His voice was so low; he almost didn't hear himself.
"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come back,
Starsky. I really don't." He swallowed again, blinking
back the tears that threatened. It felt so good just to lie there,
Starsky's hand a warm presence on his back. His slow and steady
breathe in his ear. Perhaps, perhaps Starsky was
feeling what he was feeling. Did he dare hope? What if
he returned that gesture, that overture? Would his whole world
come to an end?
Making a decision, Hutch pushed himself away from the comfort of that
shoulder and sat up. Looked down at Starsky and
was surprised to find him fast asleep. Hutch's hand, as if it
had a mind of it's own, reached out to stroke Starsky's cheek,
the shoulder where he so recently lay. Sighing, Hutch carefully
moved away from that comfort and went into the
bathroom. Found the toothbrush that he kept there and tried to
collect himself. Tried to tell himself that the kiss meant
nothing, that it was only Starsky being his normal, silly self.
Not a come on, not a promise of something more. Simply a
little gesture of affection, of friendship. He didn’t succeed.
Stripping down to his t-shirt and briefs, he turned off the light in
the bathroom and re-entered the bedroom. Starsky lay
stretched out on one side of the bed, covers half off, sleeping the
sleep of the innocent. Hutch stood, drinking in the
sight of this man that he loved. Alive, well, and maybe, just
maybe, feeling something of what he felt. The desire to touch
and be touched was so strong that he was almost afraid to get into
the bed. Afraid of where that desire might lead.
Getting a strong rein on his emotions, he did allow himself one small
gesture. Kneeling on the bed, he tucked the
blankets up around Starsky's shoulders. Then gently, or so gently,
leaned closer and lay a kiss on his lips. More a
brushing of those lips than an actual kiss. But it was enough.
Crawling carefully under the covers, Hutch lay as close to Starsky as
he could without actually touching him. Turned on
his side towards him and slowly fell asleep. Hopeful that there
would be a tomorrow for both of them. A day that they
would deal with whatever came of this night. Where they could
be together. As friends. As partners. In all the contexts
of that word.
*******
Somewhere between midnight and dawn the waning moon shone down on the
two bodies laying so close that it would
have been hard to distinguish one from the other. A bare arm
lying across a back, a knee crooked over another.
Cuddled together like two puppies, sharing warmth, and companionship.
One dark, one fair. Each needing to know that
the other was there, even in sleep.
*****
He woke slowly, languidly, in the near darkness. To a feeling
of peace and contentment. Of rightness. Other things
started to intrude into his awareness. An unusual warmth draped
across his chest, along his back. Then the sound of
someone breathing into his neck, just behind his left ear. He
moved a drowsy hand to grasp the one lying on his
stomach. The hand that he knew every bit as well as he knew his
own. When he gripped it, the warmth at his back
shifted slightly and the breathing changed. A soft voice in his
ear said his name and muttered some words he didn't quite
hear. But that was all right because he understood the meaning
if not the words. He smiled to himself, nestled back into
that warmth, and drifted back to sleep, a smile of pure serenity on
his lips.
*****
Hutch woke with a start. At first, he couldn't place where he
was. Then recognition awakened also and he realized that
he was lying draped over his partner. His arm lay across Starsky's
side with his hand grasped in Starsky's. He lay
stretched out along his back with one leg trapped between the other's.
For a time he luxuriated in the closeness, feeling
a sense of peace that had been missing from his life for far too many
years. Almost slipped back into sleep trying to
ignore the light sneaking through the curtains. Then reality
intruded with the knowledge that this couldn't be proper, that
he had no right to this possession of the other. Gently he pulled
his hand free, worked his leg loose and rolled, oh so
carefully, away from the comforting warmth of his partner's body.
Starsky mumbled, then rolled over towards him, one arm reaching over
to his side of the bed. Hutch sat still for a
moment, but Starsky didn't waken. He quietly got off the bed,
gathered up his clothes from the floor where he'd left them
the night before, and made his way to the bathroom.
He turned on the shower, cold as he could stand. His heart and
mind may have felt innocent affection for his partner at
awakening but his body betrayed him. Hutch was totally disgusted
with himself. Here he was, a man who had never held
an erotic thought about another man in his life, lusting after his
partner. His best friend. Someone who trusted him with
his life, his heart, and he felt as if he'd violated that trust.
Hutch leaned against the shower wall and tried to control his
body's wayward intentions. Willing cooperation from a very uncooperative
member.
The greatest fear in his life for far more years than he could remember
was the fear of losing Starsky. Losing him to
death, through a dying of their friendship or the breaking up of their
partnership. Since the kidnapping, since Starsky's
return, a new fear had made an appearance. The fear that Starsky
would be revolted by the way Hutch's commitment to
him had changed from that of a friend to that of a potential suitor.
That Starsky, so repulsed by the whole idea, would
bring an end to the hope of any kind of relationship. That he
would lose him to something as final as death.
At that moment, he hated himself for risking everything that mattered.
*******
I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
*******
Hutch put his breakfast cup and bowl in the sink with the previous night's
dishes. He had closed the door to the bedroom
when he came out into the living area so as not to wake the still slumbering
Starsky. He had stared at him for a few
minutes before closing the door. Taking in the sprawled form,
the face innocent in sleep. So trusting. So unawares of
the tempest battering at his partner's soul. Of the danger both
of them and the thing that made them what they were,
were in. He'd give anything if he could go back to feeling just
as innocent as Starsky was, as he was only a few short
weeks ago. But there was no turning back time. All he could
do now was pretend that it had never happened. Pretend
he wasn't dying inside. Pretend not to feel desire.
He looked at the kitchen clock. It wasn't quite eight yet, he'd
let Starsky sleep a while longer before he woke him up to
take his next pill. Going out onto the deck, he stood leaning
on the railing watching the world go by. Starsky's driveway
looked bare without the Torino. They would have to go down to
the station and pick up the car in the next couple of
days. But that could wait until Starsky was stronger. Even
though his memory had returned, or at least some of it, he
was still very weak from his abduction. Although his physical
injuries were slight, the drugs and neglect had taken their
toll on his body. Sometime today Hutch planned on taking Starsky
to see his own doctor, just to make sure they were
doing everything possible to get him better.
Hutch was worried about the aftereffects of the drugs. Especially
the combination of the stimulant that Gibbons had
injected that had caused Starsky's violent reaction and the steady
stream of sedatives. He vividly remembered his own
battle with the drugs that another man had forced upon him. That
was not something he had ever wanted Starsky to go
through. Although Starsky had seemed to sleep well last night,
at least as far as he could tell, he knew the next few days
might be rough.
Thinking about his sleeping partner started him thinking about sleeping
with him. Waking up that morning with Starsky in
his arms, with his body wrapped around him. He allowed himself
to feel again the warmth of that other body, the hand
that had held his. The feeling of the hard stomach muscles beneath
his forearm, every sensation that holding him had
created in him. If he could only allow himself that one memory
for the rest of his life, at least it was a good memory.
Lost in that memory, Hutch almost jumped over the deck railing when
a warm hand placed itself in the middle of his back.
Catching his breath, he turned his head to look into the amused face
of his partner.
"Hey, Hutch. Where were you? You looked a million miles
away and darn happy to be there." Starsky stood, barefooted,
before him. His robe hanging open, pillow creases in his cheek
and his too short hair matted on one side. Altogether an
endearing sight. Suddenly it was all Hutch could do not to wrap
his arms around him and drag him to the floor. He was
afraid to turn around, afraid what his errant body would show.
Hutch gamely tried to breathe again. Pasted a smile on his face
and leaned the front of his body up against the deck
railing. Trying to will himself into submission. "Uh, just
thinking about what we need to do today is all, Starsk." <Yeah,
right.> "How you feeling this morning? Did you sleep okay?"
<Oh sure, bring that up.> Hutch wanted to crawl under one
of the deck chairs and hide from those naive blue eyes.
Starsky laid his arms on the railing beside Hutch and leaned with him.
Unfortunately for Hutch's state, Starsky's hip
leaned against his as well. If Hutch had turned even a little,
the two of them would have been nose to nose. Or lips to
lips. He shifted his weight from the leg against Starsky's to
the other, breaking contact without appearing rude. Or
scared.
Not seeming to notice his friend's discomfort, Starsky stared out at
the street and answered. "Okay, I guess. I'm feeling
kinda nervous though, as if there's something wrong, but I can't figure
it out."
<Oh, boy.> Hutch swallowed and tried to move a little further away.
"An itchy kinda feeling. Anyway, I slept pretty good last night.
It was nice having you there. Except when I woke up and
you were gone. That scared me at first. Then I heard you
rattling around in the kitchen, so I knew you hadn't left or that
last night wasn't just a dream." Starsky looked sideways through
his eyelashes at Hutch. "I woke up once, around dawn.
You were holding me. It felt really good. Made me feel
real safe and cared for. Just what I needed. Thanks, partner."
Starsky shocked Hutch by laying his head on his shoulder and sighing.
"God I missed you. I even missed you when I
couldn't remember who you were. Maybe that's when I missed you
the most."
Hutch didn't know how to respond to that. When Starsky's arm worked
its way around his back, it was only natural to lay
his arm around Starsky's shoulder. Something in the way Starsky
leaned against him relaxed Hutch. They stood like that
for a few minutes until Starsky's stomach rumbled causing both men
to laugh. Hutch patted that stomach; hardly noticing
the way the firm muscles clenched at the contact or the way the soft
down on the belly felt against his hand.
"Come on partner, let's get some breakfast into you, then we'll worry
about the rest of the day." Hutch headed for the
interior of the apartment, pleased to note that his body was once more
under his control. Starsky followed along, still
looking sleepy but a little self-congratulatory at the same time.
Although Hutch didn't notice the latter.
*****
Starsky looked in his closet, searching for his favorite sweater.
The blue one he'd filched from Hutch and loved to wear.
He couldn't seem to get warm enough, even though the outside temperature
was in the upper sixty's. <Probably because
of those damn drugs.> He felt extremely edgy, as if he needed to keep
moving. He knew that some of what he was
feeling was withdrawal from the sedatives. A person couldn't
be on those kinds of drugs for that length of time without it
having some addictive effect. Not something he wanted to talk
about with Hutch.
His partner was insisting that he go see his doctor. 'Just in
case.' Hutch could be such a mother hen sometimes. Starsky
smiled at the thought. It felt so good to be able to remember
little things like his partner's inclination to hover. There
were still some huge gaps in his memory. Hutch had to remind
him to phone his mother to let her know he was all right.
He had to look her phone number up in his address book before he could
make the call. For a few minutes, he couldn't
even recall her first name when confronted by a page and a half of
Starskys in his book. But, finally, he had and was
proud of himself that he could carry on a conversation with someone
he barely remembered at all. It frightened him a bit
that he couldn't remember his own mother's name, but figured it would
all come back eventually.
After all, he had remembered Hutch, and with that memory, himself.
The most important part of himself, the part that
belonged with Hutch. Belonged to Hutch. Giving up on his
search for the blue sweater, he grabbed another one, a
multi-striped affair that had once upon a time also belonged to Hutch.
Slipping it over his head he struggled getting it
onto his left arm and over the t-shirt and long-sleeved plaid shirt
he already had on. At this point, he didn't much care
how he looked as long as he could get warm. He grinned to himself;
<Maybe I should go and cuddle up to Hutch. That
would warm me up pretty fast.> Still trying to get his sore arm
bent enough to pull the sweater on, he wandered out into
the living room.
The object of his thoughts was on the phone, trying to get an appointment
with Starsky's doctor. Starsky paused in the
doorway for a moment to just look at his partner. Hutch was standing
with his back to the bedroom, one hand gesturing
wildly as he talked to the doctor's receptionist. He was leaning
on one hip against the white chair, back straight, the little
cowlick in his blond hair standing on end. This morning, when
Starsky came out onto the deck, he had felt a little shock
of despair when he noticed how his partner looked. Hutch had
always been lean, but now he was thin to the point of
gauntness. His naturally pale skin was even more pallid than
usual and he looked incredibly tired. But it was his eyes
that worried Starsky the most. Haunted, weary and something else
that he was having difficulty identifying. A fear, a
wariness that Starsky didn't understand. The fear, maybe.
Because of him, for him, left over from the last weeks and a
fear for what his loss of memory might encompass.
But the wariness puzzled Starsky. From what he could remember,
and more was coming back all the time, they never had
any secrets from each other. Certainly never withheld anything,
be it feelings, thoughts or problems. He could feel that
something was different, but because of his spotty memory, he couldn't
figure out what. It was almost as if Hutch were
afraid to touch him, weighing even the simplest of gestures before
he offered them. He had felt Hutch start of surprise
when he put his head on the other's shoulder earlier. As if he
were afraid of him. Then he relaxed and seemed to enjoy
the contact. Starsky felt as if he only had half the information
he needed but there were vital pieces missing. As if he
were trying to read an instruction manual and whole pages were blank.
There was one other thing bothering him too. He had the suspicion
that he still hadn't remembered something vitally
important in their relationship. That there was more to it than
simple friendship, simply being working partners. But some
of his memories were so muddled, he couldn't be sure if they were true
memories or illusions. Reality or only desire. But
he meant to find out. Because he wanted whichever they were to
be true.
*****
Hutch turned and saw him standing there struggling with the sweater.
Quickly saying good-bye to the receptionist, he
came over to him. "Hey, buddy. That arm's still bugging
you, isn't it? Here, hold still and let me." Hutch took the
sweater
from Starsky and with a few deft moves had it on him in seconds.
He smiled as Starsky's head popped through the
sweater's neck and reached to fix his collar. Starsky had also
reached for the collar and their hands collided. Hutch was
disconcerted when Starsky captured his hand and just held it.
That daring look was back, the same as last night. Just for
a moment, he thought Starsky was also going to repeat the gesture that
had gone with that look. He even started to lean
forward in unconscious anticipation. Then Starsky let his hand
go and grinned.
"You don't have to totally dress me, ya know. It's just my mind
that's gimped, not the rest of me." Starsky patted him on
his still upraised arm and walked past him into the kitchen.
Getting a glass from the cupboard he drew some water from
the water cooler and leaned against the fridge to drink it. It
took Hutch a few deep breaths before he could bring himself
to follow him. Starsky gazed at him over the rim of his glass,
his eyes dark and unfathomable now. "So what's the plan?
Did you get me an appointment with the doctor?"
Hutch tried to lean against the counter as nonchalantly as Starsky was
against the fridge. He picked up a dishtowel that
was laying on the countertop and started to pleat it into smaller and
smaller folds. He didn't see Starsky's bemused
expression as he watched this performance because he couldn't seem
to look his partner in the face.
"Yeah, he can see you at two. I thought maybe we'd run over to
my place first so I can get some clothes and stuff. I
talked to Dobey while you were in the shower. He said not to
worry about that report yet. I told him you had remembered
some things but not enough to give a complete report. He also
said that they've released the Torino from the impound so
we can get that and your other stuff anytime you're up to it."
Hutch glanced up in time to see his partner's face go blank then whiten.
He thought that Starsky was going to faint and
practically jumped to his side. "Starsky, what's wrong?"
Starsky's hand was trembling so hard the water remaining in the
glass almost splashed over the rim. Hutch gently pried the glass
away from him and grasped his elbow. "Starsky, are
you all right? Breath partner, breath." Hutch was truly
frightened. Starsky wore the same expression that he had when
Hutch first saw him at the hospital. No recognition, only total
fear. Putting an arm around him, he forced Starsky to move
with him into the living room and sat him down on the couch.
Kneeling in front of him, Hutch rubbed Starsky's hands and
kept up the encouraging ramblings, trying to awaken him from whatever
it was that held him.
Finally, Hutch's ministrations received their reward when something
behind Starsky's eyes seemed to slide into place and
he looked at him. A faint smile that didn't reach those eyes
played across his lips and one hand twisted in Hutch's to
grasp hold.
Hutch reached up his free hand and touched Starsky's cheek, his thumb
rubbing across the top of his cheekbone. "What
happened? Where'd you go?"
Starsky dragged in a shuddering breath, leaning into that hand.
"It was when you mentioned the Torino. God, Hutch. I
remembered that night. And why being here alone last night spooked
me so bad." His eyes closed, a look of such
sadness and despair on his face that Hutch had to pull himself up on
the couch so he could enfold him into his arms. "I
remembered thinking that I'd never see you again, how much it was going
to hurt you. How the last thing I thought was
that you'd never forgive me for leaving you. I'm sorry, Hutch.
I'm so sorry." Starsky turned into Hutch's embrace and
whispered, "I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm so sorry."
*******
All Hutch could do was hold him. Starsky was shaking and clutching
his shirt as if it were a lifeline. And maybe it was.
Something to hold on to, to connect him to the present while his mind
relived the terrifying events of the past. Hutch
rubbed Starsky's back with one hand, making little circles. The
other hand was behind Starsky's head, holding it against
his chest. Hutch had never seen him act so scared before and
it frightened him. The closest was when he was almost
'sacrificed' by Marcus' people. After everything was over and
he was safe, he had reacted something like this. Held onto
Hutch and just shook for a few minutes. After that, he had seemed
fine except for a few nightmares. But this was a
hundred times worse. Hutch was beginning to worry for his partner's
sanity.
Starsky kept repeating, "I'm sorry." Almost as if it was a mantra.
Hutch had no idea what he thought he had to be sorry
for, but until Starsky calmed enough to be coherent, he wasn't going
to find out. He kept up the comforting caress, as
much for himself as for Starsky. If Starsky didn't settle down
soon, he was going to have to do something drastic, he just
wasn't sure what that was.
Starsky's voice decreased to a whisper then stopped altogether.
Finally, he pushed himself away from Hutch's embrace,
sitting back against the arm of the couch. Rubbed a still trembling
hand across his eyes and sighed deeply. Opening his
eyes, he stared off into space for a moment then shifted his gaze to
the worried face of his partner. A grimace that might
have been meant as a smile crossed his face but didn't stay.
"I'm sorry, Hutch."
"Starsky, there's nothing to be sorry about. Please stop saying
that." Hutch didn't succeed in keeping the exasperation
out of his voice. Then felt instantly guilty when Starsky winced
at his words. Hutch reached out an apologetic hand that
Starsky immediately grasped and held against his chest. Hutch
could feel the pounding of his heart and knew that
whatever Starsky had remembered had almost scared the life out of him.
He moved a bit closer.
"Can you tell me, buddy, what happened that night? What you remembered?"
Hutch asked as gently as he could.
Starsky squeezed his hand harder. Though the back of his hand
laying against Starsky's chest he could feel the rise and
fall of his breathing, fast and shallow. He was afraid that Starsky
might be going into shock. Reaching behind them, he
pulled the striped blanket down and wrapped it around Starsky's shoulders
as best he could with only one hand. Starsky
leaned into him as he was tucking the blanket around his back and lay
against his shoulder. A small sigh escaped him as
he pushed himself up against Hutch. His voice was very low and
unsteady as he started to tell Hutch about that Sunday
night, three weeks before.