Huggy’s Vigil

Post “Sweet Revenge,” Huggy’s POV of a very important night.

Come on, Blondie, I silently urge, where are ya? You shoulda been back hours ago. You know he wouldn’t go anywhere else when he’s hurtin’. Which o’ course is why you tried here first.

I didn’t lie to you. He wasn’t here. But he came in two minutes after you left. Musta been watchin’ and wouldn’t come in ’til you’d gone.

Came in the back and went straight upstairs. Made me promise not to call you. And I’ve never broken a promise to him. Never will. He’s my best friend. But you’re his. So I’m waitin’. And you better show up soon or I’m givin’ up on ya. Just not good enough for ‘im, you ain’t.

How many times do I have to wash these same damn glasses? How many times can I polish the bar? Can’t cram any more beers in the cooler, can’t pack any more bottles on the shelf. Can’t scrub the floor again. Kitchen’s so clean the inspector’ll write me up for bein’ too sanitary.

The back door is pushed open.

“It’s about damn time!” I can’t keep the fury out of my voice but I’m almost sorry because the look on his haggard face makes me wanna cry. He starts to speak but I hold up my hand in denial. “Do not say a single word.” I gesture toward the front of the bar. “Sit yourself down and hear me out.”

He straightens a little and shuffles around the bar, collapsing onto a stool. I pour a cup of long-dead coffee and put it in front of him. Dutifully he takes a swallow and manages not to gag. Gotta give him credit for that, at least.

“I didn’t lie t’ ya, Hutch,” I tell the tall blond detective, who can usually pass for a Nordic god. Tonight he looks like he’s been in a battle with the other gods, and lost. “He really wasn’t here.” I grab a cup off the shelf behind the bar and pour myself some of the brew. “Didn’t come in ’til after you left.”

I force myself to swallow the awful stuff, just to know what he’s sufferin’. Yeah, it really is swill. I dump the rest of my cup in the sink and begin making a fresh pot. For some unknown reason, Hutch keeps drinking his sludge.

“He made me promise not t’ call ya.” Hutch doesn’t look surprised, just sadder. He finishes his coffee. I take the cup, rinse it out and put it next to mine, near the dripping machine. “So I had t’ wait for you to come back. Knew you would, ’cause you knew he’d end up here, sooner or later. He’s got no where else t’ go.”

Hutch opens his mouth to reply.

“Shut up!” I bark. He looks at me, startled, and I can’t keep up the charade. I put a hand over his clenched fist on the bar. “I asked you not to talk, Hutch, so don’t. Okay? Just listen.” I take my hand back.

He nods, appearing more dispirited than ever. He laces his long supple fingers and stares at them. He couldn’t have looked more lost if he’d been in a cage at the animal shelter.

I wait while the coffee perks. He sits, his head bowed, and I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. Finally, I pour each of us a cup from the fresh pot. I slide his in front of him and pick up my own. “I thought I’d seen m’ man in every possible state he could be in,” I begin, slowly. “Until tonight.”

Hutch looks up and meets my eyes but his are so wrecked, I decide to back off on my attitude. Hutch loves my best friend. And it’s obvious to me that Starsky loves this man.

“I’m gonna make some assumptions, Blondie,” I tell the stricken figure in front of me. “You’re allowed to speak only if what I say ain’t true.” I wait, but all he does is nod in acceptance.

“It’s never been a secret you two love each other,” I say. “So what’s different about tonight, I ask myself. Why’s he so torn up?” The expression on the ravaged face doesn’t change. “I’m guessin’ you wanted to take things to the next level, and he wasn’t ready for it.”

Hutch’s tortured gaze drops back to his hands, cradling the cup. Absent-mindedly, he raises it to his lips and drinks. It must be burning his mouth but he drains it dry. His hands are shaking when he puts the empty down.

“You told him you were in love with him.” Hutch doesn’t so much as move a muscle. “Nod if I’m right.” The blond head dips once.

I can’t keep up the pretense of being angry, this man’s my friend, too. I put a hand on his arm and wait until he looks up at me. “I’ve seen it comin’, Hutch,” I tell him as gently as I can. “Ever since you managed to get him back on his feet, back in shape, and back on the streets.”

Hutch ducks his head, trying to hide the sudden tears. I take pity on him and turn away, grab the coffee pot and refill his cup, then top off my own.

“Before, there was friendship, respect, honor and trust in your eyes when you looked at him,” I say, softly. “I’m probably the only one that sees it, ’cause I know you both so well, but there’s love now.”

Hutch looks at me again, not even attempting to hide the emotion.

“He knows it, too,” I tell him. “But he ain’t ready to go there just yet.” I put my elbows on the bar and lean toward him. “And I’m gonna tell ya why.”

Hutch sits back and raises his hands in a warding gesture.

“It’s time, Hutch,” I say, trying to sound convincing and soothing, not an easy combination. This ain’t gonna be a cake walk for me, either. “You gotta know, and he needs help with it. Even if he don’t think so.”

I pick up the coffee pot and put it on the bar between us. Hutch sips from his full cup, I drink a few swallows from mine.

“When we were fourteen he was raped.” The words come out of my mouth softly but they hit Hutch in the middle of his forehead like a sledgehammer.

He chokes on his coffee and sets the cup down hard.

“Didn’t think ya knew.” I pick up a bar towel and wipe up the spilled brew before I refill his cup.

“A gang of Southsiders caught us off our regular turf,” I continue. “They beat us both pretty bad but, since I was black, like them, they didn’t do nothin’ more t’ me.” I drink coffee, the images from that day involuntarily replaying in my mind. “They told me t’ go home but I wouldn’t leave the best friend I had in the world.”

Hutch looks in my eyes, as if he can see the memories I’m reliving. I’m almost afraid he can.

“The leader did him first.” I nearly choke on the words and have to take a breath before I can go on. “When he was done, Starsky was bleedin’ bad, so the others wouldn’t touch him.”

Hutch shudders and bends his head over his cup. Yeah, he’s in my mind, can see everything I saw. And it’s tearin’ him apart. Just like it did Starsky.

“He nearly died, Hutch.” I’m startin’ to feel terrible about tellin’ him this nightmare, but I have to finish it now. “Wouldn’t let me take him to a hospital, or even a doctor. He stayed at my crib and I did the best I could.”

Hutch reaches out a hand and finds my arm, but he doesn’t look up. He just grips, maybe hard enough to leave bruises. I don’t care.

“For two days he had a raging fever, couldn’t keep anything down.” I move around the bar and sit on the stool next to him. “I went to the free clinic near my place and talked to a doctor. He threw big words around but ‘infection’ was all I understood. He gave me a list of antibiotics my friend should be takin’ but, since I couldn’t bring the patient to him, there was nothin’ more he could do.”

“What happened?” Hutch asks quietly, unable to keep the question inside.

“I broke into a pharmacy and stole what Starsky needed.”

Hutch looks at me and there’s such naked gratitude in his eyes, I blush. “I couldn’t let ‘im die, Hutch.”

“Thank you,” my best friend’s best friend says.

We both drink the rest of our coffee and when I lift the pot to pour more, he puts his hand over his cup. I refill my own.

“He lost twenty pounds during the next two weeks,” I tell him. “But he lived.” I look him in the eyes. “And as far as I know, he’s never told a soul about that day.”

“What did you tell his aunt and uncle?” Hutch asks.

“We came up with some bullshit story about a complicated project at school that we couldn’t leave unattended, even for a minute.” I shrug. “Guess they musta bought it. They never sent anybody around to check on us.” I smile, ruefully. “If you wanna know the truth, I think they were gettin’ used to the stuff we’d get into and didn’t wanna know.”

“What about the school?”

“I forged notes from two doctors sayin’ we had a contagious flu and couldn’t come in until it was gone.” I shrug again. “As I remember, there really was somethin’ goin’ around, a lot of kids were out sick. They musta believed me, too.”

“You’re a good man, Huggy Bear,” he says, and it feels like a benediction.

“Once he was back on his feet,” I say matter-of-factly, trying to hide my embarrassment, “he told me he’d never let anybody do that to him again. He’d die first.” I look at the devastated face of my friend’s partner and see the comprehension.

“I’d never expect that of him, Huggy. Not if he didn’t want it.” Hutch says in all sincerity and the truth is in his eyes. “There are so many ways we can love each other, that never has to be part of it.”

“I have a feeling he didn’t let you get that far, did he?” I ask.

Hutch shakes his head in defeat. “No.” He picks up his cup but realizes it’s empty. When I lift the pot again, he nods. I refill it. He drinks a few swallows. “He’s never run away from me before, Hug. Never.” There are tears in his voice. “But he did tonight.” He drinks more coffee then puts the cup down. “And I couldn’t find him.”

I wait, drinking my own coffee, seeing in my mind the endless drivin’ around, checkin’ out every place his partner might go. He comes here first, o’ course, as Starsky musta known he would. Then, once Hutch was gone, Starsky could come in himself. Go up to the room that was a forty-eight hour refuge for both of ’em. A place where Starsky knew he’d be safe, and could think.

“Tell ‘im, Hutch,” I say. I put my hand on his arm again and I can feel the trembling. God, he cares so much. I may just fall in love with him myself.

“Would he really want to hear it?” Hutch asks, uncertainty in his voice. “He ran from me once tonight. I couldn’t stand it if he left me again.”

“Then you have to tell him a different way,” I say, as persuasively as I can. “And I guess you’ll have to let him know that I’ve told you about…”

“Yeah,” Hutch finishes.

“He’ll prob’ly hate me for a while,” I admit. “But we been through so much, I hope he’ll forgive me. Eventually.”

“He could never stay mad at you for long, Huggy,” Hutch says comfortingly. Then he smiles. “I won’t let him.”

“I’ll take that as a promise, my blond friend.”

“What about Vietnam?” Hutch asks, very quietly. “I’ve heard stories about rapes that happened over there.”

I refill my own cup and drink some. Should I tell him, I wonder? Isn’t that something Starsky can keep to himself, if he wants? No, I decide, I’ve opened this can o’ worms, gotta let ’em all out.

“I got him drunk one night, after he came back. He was drivin’ a cab at the time and workin’ crazy hours.” I lean on the bar, cradling my cup in my hands, holding it up to my face and just breathin’ in the aroma of really good beans. “He told me he’d had two run-ins over there. The first time, he just beat the crap outta the guy who tried it. And that ended that.”

“And the other time?” Hutch asks, when I don’t continue.

“A Lieutenant wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I tell him reluctantly. “He waylaid Starsky, knocked him out and dragged him into a bunker.” Again, the images my friend had put in my head that drunken night, storm back and nearly overwhelm me. Hutch waits patiently. “Starsky came to in time to keep himself from gettin’ fucked. He beat the Lieutenant to a pulp.” I smile. “Those were Starsky’s words.”

Hutch drinks his coffee and continues to wait. I get myself together again and continue: “Trouble is, the L T filed charges against Starsky for striking an officer.”

“Oh, shit,” Hutch mutters.

“Here’s where it gets good though,” I say, smiling. “Starsky had a friend in the squad, his Sergeant, who believed his story. The Sarge had already heard rumors and when he asked around, he found three grunts in other platoons who’d been reamed, involuntarily, by the same Lieutenant. They gave depositions and the case never got to court martial. The L T was told to resign his commission or face charges himself. He resigned.”

Hutch digests this information. “Do you know if he ever saw the guy again?” the blond asks, sounding as if he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“Matter of fact, I do,” I say, not at all sorry to be able to impart this portion of the story. “Starsky told me he tracked the Lieutenant to Chicago and found out he was dead.” I can’t keep from smiling. “He’d tried his act on some guy in an alley behind a nightclub and got knifed.”

“Sounds like it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving soul,” Hutch comments, straight-faced.

I laugh. “My sentiments exactly. Don’t think Starsky shed a tear either.”

We drink our coffee for while, neither of us sure where to go from here. But I find I’m happy for the first time tonight.

“What do I do now, Hug?” Hutch finally asks, plaintively.

“Well,” I say, deciding to put some cheer into the evening, “like I said once before, can’t recall the occasion at the moment, ‘a Starsky without a Hutch is like a pig without the pork’.” I grin at my friend and put an arm around his shoulders. “I have no idea what I meant at the time, but it still sounds right.”

I take the coffee cup from his hands and put it on the bar. Then I shove him gently off the stool. “Go upstairs and make him understand how you feel, Hutch. You love him. He loves you.” I push him, clearly reluctant, toward the steps. “Tell ‘im.”

Looking anything but confident, which was unusual for the usually super confident cop, Hutch starts up the stairs.

I take both cups behind the bar. I pour myself the last of the pot and turn the machine off. I don’t hear the door open, but I do hear it close softly. I finish my coffee, wash both cups and put them on the shelf. I empty the grounds out of the machine and set it up for morning. I wash out the pot and put it back where it belongs. I wait, listening hard but hearing nothin’. No breakin’ glass, no fists connecting with bodies, no raised voices, no nothin’. I wait, and wait. And wait.

A friendship, a partnership, hell, a love as great as theirs must be, is worth a little waiting, right?

Finally though, I can’t stand the suspense any longer. Hutch’s been up there for over an hour. I shoulda heard somethin’ by now!

I creep up the steps, careful to avoid the ones I know will creak. At the top, I listen as hard as I’ve ever listened for anything in my life, but don’t hear a sound. I try the knob and it’s not locked. I push the door open slowly and stick my head inside. The main part of the room is undisturbed as I knew it would be, since I hadn’t heard any furniture dyin’.

I walk in and look around the corner to the bed. And I smile, as happy and satisfied a smile as I’ve probably ever had plastered across my lips.

Starsky’s curled on his right side, obviously sound asleep. His face, although blotched and a little puffy, is peaceful and content.

Hutch is spooned behind him, probably as close as he could physically get. His long arms are wrapped around his partner, his blond head nestles on the pillow next to the dark curly one. Hutch’s large hands enclose both of Starsky’s. Hutch, too, must be asleep.

Love, my friends, I say to myself. You’re definitely in it. And I ain’t never been so happy ’bout anything in my whole life. Dream sweet, you two.

I back out of the room and leave them in their quiet space. Their peace.

END