On the way to Hutch’s place, Starsky noticed that his partner had withdrawn into himself once again. He had seen it happen more and more often since his leaving the hospital. In the beginning, he had put it down to the deep physical and psychological trauma Hutch had gone through, seeing his own life almost literally slipping through his fingers and knowing there was nothing anybody could do for him; clinging to Starsky’s slim chances of finding Callendar and getting the antitoxin developed out of his blood in time.
It had been a living nightmare for the two partners. It wasn’t that they had never endured life and death situations before. Vic Bellamy being the most sudden and brutal of all of them, when he condemned Starsky’s life to a timetable of 24 hours. But even during those few frantic, terrifying hours, Hutch had been there grounding him, holding him in his arms, never being more than a heartbeat away. But this time, Hutch had been forced to live what could very easily have been the last days of his life alone, isolated from all human contact.
The same sentence had been imposed on Starsky. Forced to stay away from his partner, unable to offer any comfort, searching high and low for the only chance of life his friend had. It had been necessary, but it still had torn him apart.
After being administered the serum, Hutch had slept most of the time. The fever dropped after the first 24 hours, and the next five days he’d spent more time sleeping than awake. Starsky made certain that the first thing his partner saw when he was finally able to stay sharp enough for more than 30 seconds at a time, was his curly-haired partner’s smiling face. Unmasked, ungloved, and holding his hands.
Hutch had awakened, blinked a few times, looked around him and finally settled his eyes on him. He looked down at their clasped hands next, squeezed Starsky’s, and slowly, he withdrew his suddenly trembling hands from Starsky’s grasp.
Since that day, Starsky had been getting mixed signs from his partner. He accepted and seemed to revel in Starsky’s outrageous behavior, understanding it was the logical reaction to yet another close call. Touching had always been the balm to those terrible times. They craved the healing touch of the other reminding them this was what everything was about: showing how much you care, touching and being touched, not only physically, but at every possible level.
This time, though, there was something different about Hutch. He sometimes accepted Starsky’s touch and other times he shied away from it. A few minutes ago at the airport, after saying goodbye to Judith, Hutch seemed to have been about to shake off Starsky’s hand when he grabbed Hutch’s sleeve and dragged him along, saying he was going to get him home and tuck him in. But a couple minutes later, in the escalator, Hutch had laid his hand softly on his forearm, although Starsky suspected that Hutch had felt momentarily dizzy and he had touched him to steady himself. But then, there was also that affectionate, playful nudge he had given him with his elbow… Weird.
Something was definitely wrong with Hutch, and Starsky intended to find out what it was.
The ride to Hutch’s place was made in silence. Hutch was looking out the Torino’s window, apparently studying everything they passed. Starsky understood the feeling. All the things Hutch was looking at now had been about to not be at all for him. Before everything returned to normal, those feelings and thoughts would be overwhelming, he knew from bitter experience. But their intensity would diminish in time. Nobody could keep such heavy thoughts in the forefront forever. They would move on, lesson learned, stronger and wiser.
Starsky parked the Torino right behind Hutch’s LTD. With a sigh, he looked at his partner’s apartment. “Ready to return home?” he asked.
Hutch took a deep breath and stared at the building for a few moments before nodding and opening the car’s door.
Starsky followed him in silence. It almost seemed impossible to believe this was the same man who had been smiling and joking about living 148 years and spending his next vacation in Azerbaijan – or however the place was called – just a few minutes ago. But this was his partner, and Starsky was more than used to his moods. Hutch could jump from playful to introspective in the wink of an eye. He could be teasing you one moment and lecturing you about the meaning of life the next. Usually, Starsky could follow his partner’s train of thought and see what made him jump from one mood to the next. This time, though, he was completely at a loss.
While climbing the steps to his door, Hutch suddenly swayed. Immediately, Starsky wrapped his arms around his waist and steadied him, holding him up until he regained his equilibrium again. To his complete amazement and dismay, Hutch shook him off a second later.
“I’m fine, Starsk,” he said dryly. “I just lost my balance for a moment. Damn, these steps are too high for me!” Helpless anger tainted his voice.
“You’re lucky your guardian angel is here,” Starsky replied cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want you to break that lovely neck of yours.”
Hutch snorted as he felt his way over the doorframe, looking for his key. Once inside, he stopped in the middle of his apartment and looked around, getting reaquainted with it again. He had been convinced he would never return and only Starsky’s voice shook him out of his morbid thoughts. He was handing him his PJ’s, his robe and his grandfather’s quilt.
“Put them on and I’ll prepare something to dinner. Sit down on the couch and cover yourself.”
“But…” Hutch immediately protested.
Starsky shook his head stubbornly. “It’s useless to argue with me, Hutch, and you know it. Now, lie back and relax.”
Hutch studied his partner’s face for a long moment. His features suddenly hardened, and he shrugged in a gesture of cold disdain that set Starsky’s nerves on edge. Hutch was shutting him out, placing an invisible but definite barrier between them.
It was then that Starsky realized what was wrong with his partner.
Ignoring the signs for the moment, Starsky headed for the kitchen and started rummaging in Hutch’s cupboards, shelves and drawers, looking for the items he needed to cook a healthy but tasty dinner for the two of them.
A long, satisfied sigh told him that Hutch had just made himself comfortable on the couch. He was glad for that and he crossed his fingers for his partner to take a nap, long enough for him to finish cooking. He didn’t feel like engaging in idle chit-chat, especially because he knew that his every attempt would be answered in monosyllables or downright silence. A confrontation was imminent, but he intended to make it as gentle as possible, and preferably with their stomachs full.
It took him less than 30 minutes to prepare dinner and set the table to his liking. He even lit a candle on the center of the table, trying to give the kitchen a cozy atmosphere that would mellow his partner’s unexpectedly hardened heart. He missed the gentle man who’d become closer to him than his own flesh and blood. He had ached for Hutch these past few days, and after the hell they had gone through, he longed to spend some desperately needed hours reassuring and healing each other through physical contact, as they did every time Lady Death decided to brush them with her cold, icy fingers. He cursed Hutch for denying them that comfort now, but he knew Hutch was the first victim of his behavior. His childhood and teenage years had been an emotional desert. Since he was little, Hutch had been licking his wounds alone. He had been taught to keep a tight rein on his emotions and not display them under any circumstance. It was improper, a sign of weakness. Softness and compassion confused the mind and led people to make the wrong decisions instead of the logical, practical ones; the decisions that led to success. Love was allowed, but only to the extent where it wouldn’t interfere with one’s duties and obligations. Appearances were everything.
Starsky didn’t know how his partner had survived such a barren environment without becoming a cold, unfeeling machine. But he thanked God for anyone who had kept that highly sensitive soul intact before trusting it to his care. His heart broke for the little Hutch who had grown up devoid of a warm and loving place to call home, the lonely boy who had wept desperate tears, crying out inside for a little love, for a comforting embrace when sick, sad or just in need.
Starsky found himself by Hutch’s side, looking down at his sleeping friend and absently sliding his fingers through the silky hair on top of the blond head, soothing his hunger for touch.
He would never forget his first and hopefully last trip to Duluth four years ago, so his partner could say his final goodbye to his grandmother, who had died peacefully in her sleep. Hutch’s family had treated them both like vermin. Hutch’s father had looked down on both of them, and the entire Hutchinson clan had made a show of ignoring Starsky and avoiding him as much as possible, as if they were embarrassed of such a coarse character daring to step in their royal dominions. Starsky couldn’t care less about what those people thought of him, but the chilly, dismissive way they treated his partner sliced through his heart like a knife. Even among his kin, Hutch was an outcast.
He had been about to explode several times, whenever their attitude and sharp words had belittled his partner, but Hutch’s eyes had always stopped him. And Starsky realized it wasn’t worth it. They only had to endure their glacial eyes and barbed hints for a few hours, before returning to the real world.
When they were about to leave, Hutch’s mother had stopped them and told them to take some of Hutch’s stuff from his bedroom. They intended to redecorate the second floor of the mansion and they wanted to get rid of, quote, – all the useless items they had no use for anymore, – unquote. The useless items in question turned out to be Hutch’s awards and trophies both in high school and university, some old clothes, his picture albums, his sports equipments and a few books. It was as if they were slamming the door to Hutch and his place in their lives on his very face. Starsky wished to throttle the elegantly dressed cold-blooded woman with the exquisite pearl necklace she wore. Hutch cleared his throat and quietly took the boxes his mother pointed at, asking Starsky to help him get his things in their rented car. Once the humiliating task was over, Starsky threw his arm around his partner’s shoulders in front of everybody, and in an unashamed display of affection, he pecked Hutch’s cheek, asking him if this was a good time to leave Podland and return to planet Earth. Hutch managed to maintain a mostly straight face and completing the gesture, he threw his own arm around Starsky’s shoulders. Turning about, the two partners left Duluth and Minnesota for good, feeling closer to each other than they’d felt up to that moment, if that was possible.
Hutch never had the chance to mourn his grandmother with his family at the wake, but he mourned her in private, wrapped in Starsky’s arms in their hotel room. And Starsky cried some tears of his own when Hutch, deep in the pain and helplessness of his loss, had moaned the words: “Starsk, you’re all I’ve got in this fucking world.” The curly-haired man swore to himself right then and there that he would be everything his partner needed.
They had never spoken of Hutch’s family again. It became a tacit agreement between them. And Starsky’s family became Hutch’s adopted one.
Old memories and longtime suspicions convinced Starsky of just why his partner was behaving like this now. He felt a chill run up and down his spine when the more than likely possibility of Hutch deciding to close the door on their friendship came to mind. And something inside him knew that Hutch had already made the decision.
Foolish blintz! Little did he know that David Starsky was more than a match for him. He didn’t intend to allow such a thing to happen. He would die first.
Starsky squatted down by the couch and watched the pale sleeping face he knew even better than his own. The perfect features twitched all of a sudden and the long body gave a start. Hutch’s face began contorting in what could only be described as sheer terror, and he spasmed under the quilt that covered his lower body. Reaching out, Starsky grabbed Hutch’s upper arm and shook him softly, trying to bring him out of the nightmare that was cornering his partner in his sleep. “Hutch. Hey, babe, wake up for me, will ya?,” he softly crooned.
He hadn’t had a nightmare like this in years. But lately, this recurrent dream haunted him both sleep and awake, robbing him of the few sparks of sanity he had left. It had started the night before he awoke with the first sympthoms of the plague. That morning, the sight of his partner’s nickname written on the glass had chased away the cold, icy tendrils of thought that had insidiously begun to take root within him. He had rejected them flat at first, laughed at them and their futile, pathetic attempts at freezing the heart that Starsky’s affection had saved years ago. They were invincible together, nothing and no one could stand against them. They were a team; inseparable. They were one. Even apart. That precious name written on big red letters was the visible proof of the oath Starsky had taken when they were first partnered together. Even way before then, almost from the day they met and Starsky elected himself Hutch’s chosen brother.
But the next time he fell into a restless, feverish sleep, the nightmare returned; and it kept returning, over and over, until it began eroding his defences. Slowly, painstakingly, taking advantage of his weakness, zeroing in on his every fear and weakness. He resisted, he fought with his every bit of fading strength, clinging to the only constant in his life, the source of all his courage. But the voice resounded louder and louder in his mind, drowning his own thoughts. It was a deep baritone, a voice he’d ceased to hear long ago. A voice he thought had no power over him anymore.
He weakly cried out for the only thing strong enough to defeat that voice.
‘Starsky… Starsky… Starsk, please…,’ he moaned time and again.
‘Your Starsky can’t help you, you fool! He never could!’ the voice mocked him. It seemed to know him intimately, as it searched within him and brought to the surface his every fear, every secret terror, every nightmare that had lurked within him, patiently waiting for this moment to fell on him like a flock of vultures. He had nowhere to run, no place to hide. He couldn’t escape because that voice was deep inside him. It looked at him from its ice-blue eyes and white-blond hair. The same ice-blue eyes and white-blond hair that had sired him. Still, he fought back with all the remaining strength he had. He would fight until the last drop of life left his body.
‘No, NO! Starsky won’t fail! Starsky will find Callendar and he’ll save me and all the other patients. And even if he doesn’t find him in time to save me, he’ll do everything in his power. He’s my friend. He cares. He’s the only one who’s ever cared! He loves me!’
The voice burst out laughing. But it was more a bark than a laugh. It was laughing at him, mocking him. Denigrating his faith in his partner, denigrating his every belief. ‘Love!’ it spat. ‘Is that the only thing you think about, you little dupe? Is that all you’ve learnt in all these years? Well, let me enlighten you. Love’s an illusion, a fairytale. I raised you to trust yourself and your resources. To trust your own inner strength and be self-reliant, not a weepy pansy! No one will ever help you but yourself! That’s why you’re dying alone, like the childish dreamer you always were!’
Hutch shrank in abject terror, trying to hide from the voice that found him wherever he went. ‘No! Starsky’s out there looking for the serum. He’ll return. He’s saved my life more times than I can count, and he’s stood by me every single time that I’ve needed him. You’ll never understand the bond we share. You never had that capacity! You never understood my dreams, my hopes, my feelings; you turned your back on me when you realized I’d never be like you. But I found Starsky. He proved to me that all my dreams were possible. He supported me, he gave me everything you never did! He’s never failed me. So don’t you ever try to belittle him again in front of me, you bastard! Don’t you ever dare to speak his name! You can’t hold a candle to him!!’
The laughter sounded thunderous now. Hutch covered his ears and recoiled from the merciless mockery in it.
‘Really? Then where’s your precious Starsky now? He should be here holding your hand in your last moments. Because make no mistake about it, Ken, you’re dying! You could have been someone. You could have been anything you wanted. And yet, you chose to waste your life and your talent in a job below you. Unworthy of any half-intelligent man. And now you’re dying the death your stubborn disobedience deserves. You’re dying, infected with a loser’s disease! This is the life you chose to live. Well, stop fighting, and abide by it until the end. Give up and die like the loser you are, alone like a dog in a sterile hospital bed!’
‘No, NO! Stop, stop it!’ Hutch shook his head from side to side, certain that he was about to go mad.
‘Tell me, where’s your Starsky? Where’s your wonderful partner? Where’s that awesome love you two claim to profess each other? I’ll tell you, Ken. It was a mirage. It always was. In the end, when it counts the most, you find yourself alone. A lesson you should have learnt ages ago! You’re born alone and you die alone. What more proof do you need to see the wrongness of your choices, the foolishness of your dreams? You only fooled yourself into believing in this ridiculous brotherhood worthy of the Round Table’s tales! Grow up! Face the facts of life once and for all! Face your own stupidity, face your loneliness and conquer it! Face the fact that the dreams you always harbored were illusions worthy of a child, not a man!”
Hutch couldn’t stand it anymore. The voice had cornered him and he had no strength left to fight. He didn’t want to believe it. Everything inside him knew it was wrong. But a long discarded part of him was beginning to see the practicality and the twisted wisdom of those words… and the easiest way out of his pain.
‘Love this deep is always painful. And no person in their sane mind wants to feel pain. This agony you’re going through is useless. You could have spared yourself this miserable craving for your partner’s comfort, for the ludicrous touch of his hand and the anguish you went through when you threw him out when he visited you. You’d have died in peace, you’d have left everything settled behind you and you’d have gone placidly. Instead, you made of every moment you were awake sheer torment because you were crying out for him, reaching out to the ghostly image of him your brain conjured up. And what for? What was the use of such despair? What did you accomplish? Nothing. Just plain old suffering. Do you want to go on like this for the rest of your life? Feeling so deeply and always hurting so much because of it, when your life could be so much easier to live?’
The voice sounded almost compassionate, almost caring, and Hutch finally nodded to himself, letting those words seep into his being. He could see the logic in that reasoning. He was tired of hurting so much because of his overpowering feelings for Starsky and Starsky’s overpowering feelings for him. And those nightmarish hours, dying alone in the isolation room, cut off from all human touch, had killed him almost as much as the plague had.
‘What can I do? He’s too deep inside me. I can’t… I won’t throw him out of my life. It’d kill him, and it’d kill me too,’ he moaned.
‘You only have to tone it down. Step back, detach yourself from your feelings. Don’t let them take over you. It’s not healthy. Live your own life. Stop seeing yourself in relation to your place in that man’s life. You don’t need him, Ken. No real man needs another to be complete. Only weaklings rely on others, because they’re afraid or incapable of facing the responsibility of their own lives. Prove to yourself that you’re self-sufficient. Make your own decisions, without subjecting them to others’ opinion of you. Stop looking to others to validate your own existence!’
Something in Hutch snapped then. It was as if something or someone had turned off a switch inside him. He felt a bone-chilling coldness grazing his very soul, so cold it was about to freeze his heart beyond salvation. Only a sweet breath of warmth in the last moment prevented him from fully becoming what the voice demanded him to be.
Hutch opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to clear his head from the horrific nightmare Starsky had just awakened him from. But almost instantly, a cold wind surged up from deep inside him that rejected the loving touch flat.
Starsky seemed to feel it, because he jerked his hand away from Hutch, as if he had touched a barbed wire.
They stared at each other for a little while, as if testing the waters; until finally, Starsky relented, for the moment.
“Dinner’s ready,” he announced, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
Hutch arched his eyebrow and looked at the table. “I see,” he nodded, approvingly.
When Starsky didn’t move, Hutch looked back at him and held out his hand in invitation. “Shall we, then?” he said.
Starsky blinked, as if waking up from a dream. “Oh… oh, yeah. Sure.” He stood up and walked up to the table, followed by his partner.
“Lovely,” Hutch commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are we celebrating something?” he asked, pointing at the candle.
“Life,” Starsky answered immediately. “Friendship and love.”
“You sound like a TV commercial.”
Starsky winced inside at the sharp, mocking tone of Hutch’s voice, but he let it pass.
“Food looks delicious, though,” Hutch seemed as hungry as he sounded. He quickly sat at the table and grabbed his napkin.
Starsky copied his example and soon enough, both men were demolishing the generous bowl of salad and the cheese and ham sandwiches. Starsky spread mustard all over both slices of bread before attacking his. Hutch almost smiled watching it, but suppressed the smile before it reached his lips. He concentrated on the food and the brutal task that awaited him: hardening his heart enough to keep his distance from the most important person in his life. His appetite disappeared the more he succeeded in his efforts. Although he had to admit that it was easier than he thought. He only had to remember the voice’s words and above all, the endless hours spent alone and dying in that cold isolation room.
“You’re awfully quiet. What’s on your mind?” Starsky asked gently.
“Nothing really. The usual things,” Hutch shrugged.
‘I bet,’ Starsky thought. “Wanna talk about it?” he said instead.
Hutch looked at him suspiciously through slitted eyes, almost as if he was studying a specimen in a laboratory, and Starsky shuddered. The eyes that watched him weren’t his partner’s eyes. They were forbidding, piercing, judgemental. They immediately reminded him of the Ken Hutchinson of the first few weeks after he made his acquaintance. The aloof man hidden behind a brick wall of cold indifference that Starsky had brought down little by little, instinctively feeling the presence of the sensitive heart beneath the armor. His soul had felt it, and he hadn’t stopped until he’d brought that person to the surface. And it had been emotional heaven ever since. For both.
Apparently, Hutch had decided to revert the process now, and damn him if Dave Starsky was going to let it happen. He would fight tooth and nail.
Something terrible, something way beyond Starsky’s comprehension must have happened sometime during the last few days. Something that had pushed Hutch past his breaking point. But it didn’t matter how unthinkable that horror had been. No bug, no serial killer, no creep on Earth had ever been more important to Starsky than this unnamed ghost that threatened his best friend’s soul. And it would find more than a match in Starsky. He was fighting for the two of them, for everything he held dear and cherished more than his own life.
Meanwhile, Hutch seemed to come to a decision, and after wiping his mouth and putting his napkin on the table, he took a deep breath. “Well, now that you ask…,” he straightened up in the chair and crossed his arms. “Starsky, do you think that what we have is normal?”
The question came out so abruptly that it left Starsky with his mouth hanging open, completely gobsmacked. “Huh?” he managed to utter.
“I mean,” Hutch’s gaze turned inwards, looking for the right words to express what he wanted to say. “Don’t you think that we’ve come to rely on each other far too much these past few years?”
It was Starsky’s turn to watch his partner suspiciously through slitted eyes. He could see where this conversation was leading already. Gritting his teeth, he put on a completely false mask of innocence on his features. “Sure we’ve come to rely on each other. We’re partners. It’s the only way to survive in the streets.”
“You know that’s not really what I meant,” Hutch sounded exasperated that his partner was being deliberately obtuse. “I mean to say that we’ve become emotionally dependent on each other and we can’t function on our own anymore.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, Hutch. Sure, we’re dependent on each other, but that never stopped us from doing our duty or living our own separate lives. If anything, it made us more focused, stronger than we could ever be on our own.” Starsky finished his words with a heart-stopping smile that tore at the blond’s heartstrings.
Hutch felt his spirit responding to that triumphant smile, and crushed the feeling unmercifully. “And you think that’s healthy?” he asked.
“Healthy?” Starsky frowned.
“Starsky, we’re spending 75% of our time together. That’s not normal, not even for a married couple. Any person has their own circle of friends, a social life outside their families, closest friends and jobs. What do we have? Practically nothing but each other. We spend ¾ of our time together, and even that time doesn’t seem to be nearly enough.” ‘At least, from my end,’ he flushed in shame at the thought.
“And that isn’t healthy?” Starsky asked, a bit too calmly.
“No, it’s not. Any psychiatrist would tell you that. We’ve come to the point where we’re living in each other’s pockets, in each other’s couches. Such mutual dependency can’t be good, for either of us.”
Starsky crossed his arms, imitating Hutch’s gesture, and leaned back in his chair. “Seems like you gave this a lot of thought. D’you wanna mingle with other people? Okay, fine, go ahead. I’d never think of stopping you.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m just trying to make a point here.” Hutch did his hardest to accommodate Starsky’s feelings. “I had a lot of time to think while I was in the isolation room. Think about where my life was heading. This illness opened my eyes to many things I had been blind to see.”
“For example?” Starsky’s eyebrows arched in genuine curiosity.
“I think we’re pretty close to losing our identities in each other. We’ve become too attached to one another. There’s too much pain whenever…” he took a deep breath. “We need some space from each other to find ourselves again, to get some perspective of things.”
“No wonder you were delirious most of the time,” Starsky muttered to himself.
“What?” Hutch asked.
Starsky’s eyes met his across the table and Hutch flinched, visibly surprised. His partner’s look had hardened, as if anticipating a blow below the belt.
“Get to the point, Hutch,” Starsky said matter-of-factly. “Are you saying you wanna shut the door on our friendship?”
Hutch felt an excruciating pain in his heart. “No, I’m not saying that.” He shook his head, trying to look as composed as possible and marveling that his voice wasn’t trembling. “I’m merely saying that maybe we should… tone it down.”
“Tone it down?” Starsky’s tone was mocking.
“Yeah, step back a little. Starsk, it’s as if we needed the other’s existence to validate our own, what we are, even what we feel. Nothing seems to be good unless the other’s there to make it… right and true. We’re grown up, independent men, buddy. We don’t need each other to such an extent. We’re free to live our own lives, to find ourselves and our place in the world. It’s as if the other’s presence in our lives was holding us back, and preventing us from fulfilling everything we’re meant to be.”
“Ooohhh,” Starsky’s head snapped back. “That speech sounds suspiciously like lack of commitment to me. You want out of this partnership and you’re hiding it behind all that crock of shit.”
Hutch’s pale features hardened. “You know very well that’s not true. And as far as commitment is concerned, I’ve always been the one kicked out of people’s lives, not the other way round.”
Starsky blinked in total confusion. “So are you kicking me out of your life before I kick you outta mine?!” Hutch couldn’t be in his right mind if he actually thought that.
“No,” Hutch stated firmly. “I know you’d never do that. I’m saying I need some space to start thinking for myself again. To stop picturing myself in relation to you.”
“Aha!!” Starsky exclaimed in triumph. “We finally came to the heart of the matter. You stopped saying ‘we’ and admitted that the problem lies with you.”
“Of course the problem lies with me. I brought up the subject, didn’t I?” Hutch tilted his head, his voice sounding mildly patronizing.
“And you think that keeping your distance from me’s gonna solve anything? That being alone’s gonna save ya from hurting?” Starsky couldn’t keep his deep compassion for the wrongness of his partner’s convictions out of his words.
Hutch’s expression filled with sarcasm. “We’re all ultimately alone, partner. We’re born alone and we die alone. Life is pain, and disappointment, and loss. Whoever told you differently was a fool.”
Starsky set his jaw and reminded himself why Hutch was behaving like this. “I’d never call my mother a fool, but I’ll let it pass, keeping in mind you’re not being yourself.” His eyes blazed.
Hutch winced and looked down contritely. “I just… I need it, Starsky,” he said in a weak voice. “I… I feel I’m losing myself in this partnership. The closeness we share is suffocating me. I-I need to distance myself from us and see if I can function for myself, to be self-reliant again; start depending on my own resources. One day it might be too late and we’ll be unable to work as independent individuals, professionally and psychologically. You may not see it, but there’s a definite risk in that, Starsk. I honestly think it’s for the best.” Emotionally exhausted, Hutch sighed and leaned back in his chair again, apparently having finished his speech.
Starsky remained sitting straight in his chair, observing his partner with a faraway look, and seeming to reach into his very soul with it at the same time. Finally, he made a smacking sound with his tongue and leaned back. “Neatly exposed,” he commended dryly. He stared at Hutch for another long moment, and the blond man almost fidgeted at the unrelenting scrutiny.
“Then… do you understand?” Hutch managed to utter in a small voice. “Will you do it… for me?” he asked softly.
Starsky cocked his head to one side. “I’d do it if I knew those words were coming from Ken Hutchinson, not Richard Hutchinson,” he stated calmly, knowingly.
It took a couple seconds for Hutch’s face to register the impact of Starsky’s words. When it did, the change in the pleading face was dramatical. Gradually, the lovely features seemed to turn to stone.
Starsky had known all along; he hadn’t fooled him for a minute. Not knowing how to react, his entire body froze in place, nostrils flaring.
Starsky spoke again, oozing tenderness and understanding, as if trying to soothe the beast stirring in his partner’s breast. “Believe me, Hutch. If I thought that staying away from me was best for you, I’d move to another planet. But you see, on the one hand you’re saying that you’re commited to our partnership, and on the other that you need to keep your distance from it. One of those statements can’t be true.” Starsky caressed Hutch’s form with his eyes. It seemed amazing that he could be essentially calling his partner a liar and making the words sound so kind and gentle at the same time.
“Both are true, Starsky.” It never crossed Hutch’s mind to get angry at what his partner was implying. “I’m not breaking our friendship, I just need to keep some distance from it. There’s no contradiction in that. And whether you believe it or not, you need it too. Your independence’s being seriously compromised by our closeness.”
“Maybe, but I don’t see our closeness as a threat. And you never did, either. Until now.” His eyes bored into Hutch’s and he nodded, showing he was aware of everything Hutch wasn’t saying.
That look did get Hutch angry. Angry at Starsky and himself for ever allowing his partner so close in the first place. There was no escape for him now, no matter how much he needed it. Starsky wasn’t giving an inch. He didn’t want to see that their closeness had become too painful for Hutch to bear. To the point it hadn’t let him die in peace. He blamed Starsky for opening his heart to love and belonging, only to be denied their comfort when he had needed them the most. He couldn’t forgive nor forget those agonizing hours he had alternated between delirium and unconsciousness, when he had desperately reached out to the ghostlike image of his loving partner, only to blink and realize he was alone in his deathbed. That he was dying alone. His worst fear come alive once more. Just as it had happened the three days he had lain pinned under his car, dying a slow, terrifying death, alone. His worst fear had become a regular ocurrence, it seemed. A fear he had come to master until Starsky wreaked havoc on his cold, sterile existence. Now, that fear had all the power over him again, whenever Starsky wasn’t near.
That was why he had relented to the logic in the voice. He was sick of being afraid when only ten years ago he would have endured his illness and the final days of his life with impeccable stoicism.
He was tired; infinitely, soulfully tired. He didn’t want this love if it hurt more than it helped. He didn’t want it if the more they gave each other the less satisfying it seemed to be. Loving Starsky had become painful instead of joyful. And the plague had been the last straw.
He was on the verge of monopolizing his partner’s time and affections, and all for what? For a pain that couldn’t be soothed.
No matter what Starsky thought, this wasn’t healthy. They had virtually no friendships outside each other’s, most of them between their colleagues at work. At this rate, it would soon come a time when he would crave Starsky’s exclusive attention, and if that happened, their relationship would be doomed.
Even his love life had come to a dead halt, it suddenly dawned on him. When was the last time he had been romantically involved with a lady? One night stands didn’t count, just something even remotely regular or meaningful. He had to think hard to remember. Judith Kaufman had been a nice, lovely distraction. More like a dying man’s last chance of flirting and playing a sweet seduction game, but the fact was that when she had left a few hours ago, only his male ego had stung a little. An uncharacteristic sexual apathy seemed to have befallen him the last few months. In turn, Starsky filled almost every aspect of his life, and the weirdest thing of all was that it was perfectly all right with him.
He didn’t know what was happening to him, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he had to put an end to this unhealthy development, whether Starsky wanted it or not.
Once again, he cursed himself and Starsky for what the curly-haired man had unleashed inside him. If only he could have controlled what was happening to him, between them… But it was pointless to cry over spilt milk. He had to take the necessary measures for his feelings not to get in the way. “Well, the way I see it, partner, it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice,” he said, his blue eyes turning as cold as ice.
Starsky winced in more pain than Hutch had ever seen. In all the years he had known him, he had never seen a greater agony than what surfaced in his eyes for a heartbeat.
And Hutch hated himself more than he’d ever hated anyone for what he had just done to the person he loved the most in the world, the person who loved him more than he’d ever deserved.
Starsky recovered pretty quickly, though. “We’ll see about that, partner,” he retorted, putting the final bit of sandwhich in his mouth and chewing with deliberate slowness, never taking his eyes off Hutch.
Suddenly, Hutch felt exhausted. A sudden wave of dizziness came over him and he fixed his eyes on the top of one of his friend’s slightly disarrayed curls until it passed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Starsky was watching him with a puzzled expression. Shaking his head, he started clearing the table. “I truly appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I think you should leave now. You probably have better things to do than nursemaid me.” He never looked up into the heartbreakingly expressive eyes. One wounded look was enough. ‘Coward,’ a voice inside him said.
“You think so?” Starsky asked rhetorically.
Since his partner obviously didn’t expect an answer, Hutch limited himself to shrug. He stood up and another wave of dizziness made him grab the back of his chair, in an attempt to steady himself.
“Hutch!”
Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his torso and he was firmly held against a compact, strong and infinitely welcoming body. Instinctively, he leaned onto that warmth, seeking it desperately. But a moment later, he remembered the deal he’d made with himself and pulled himself free from those arms. He was able to remain standing, but a bone-chilling tremor coursed through his unexpectedly weakened body.
“You okay?” Starsky asked softly, unhindered by Hutch’s harshness.
“Yeah, I felt dizzy for a sec, but it’s gone now.” Hutch looked around him, apparently confused about his surroundings. “Ahh, I-I think I’m gonna wash up and go to bed.”
“Good idea,” Starsky agreed. “Want some help?” he raised his hand and held it a few inches away from Hutch’s back, in case his partner needed his support again.
But Hutch was determined to go through this alone. Walking with slow and deliberately measured steps, trying to hide the disturbing fatigue that had suddenly befallen him, he entered the bathroom and closed the door after him.
Starsky’s eyes remained fixed on the closed door for several minutes. In the end, he looked down with a heartfelt sigh.
Hutch’s ruthless attitude was breaking his heart, but he was determined to not let it get to him. Had it been anyone else, he would have punched the lights out of him a long time ago. Only Hutch was allowed. Only Hutch was ever allowed.
Forcing himself to move, he continued clearing the table. Only a small part of his brain was actually on the task at hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about the words his partner had said, and most of all, about the words he hadn’t said. Starsky had learned many years ago to read between his friend’s lines. Hutch couldn’t hide anything from him, although he still contented himself with the illusion that he could.
Hutch was suffering to the point of hurting himself and others, Starsky was only too aware of that. He only got nasty when he was protecting his inner core from falling apart. Hutch’s feelings were the strongest Starsky had ever encountered. He felt things right down to his very soul. Starsky was certain that Hutch had grown up afraid of his awesome capacity to feel, of what happened inside and around him whenever those feelings broke loose. But most of all, he was afraid of Starsky discovering it.
As if Starsky didn’t now.
Starsky’s mind travelled back in time to the mother of all horrors; the minutes following Gillian’s death. The sudden, terrible shock of finding his girlfriend dead in her own apartment had shattered the precious control Hutch prided himself on. All the pain, anger, helplessness and immense grief had exploded from him like a bottled-up geyser, and caused him to punch his best friend. Starsky felt as if Hutch had hit him with the pain of a lifetime. The way Hutch had grabbed him next, shaken him and pulled him to his feet as if he was a rag doll, had shown in all its disturbing rawness the control Hutch kept himself under all of the time.
But his ultimate proof had been Hutch’s final breakdown, when he had collapsed in his arms and cried his heart out in them. He had let it all out, he had emptied himself in a heartrending outpouring of inconsolable feelings. And Starsky had felt powerless to comfort such cataclysmic level of anguish. He had never faced such intensity of feeling before. No wonder Hutch always kept himself under such inhuman control. Beneath that cool, imperturbable exterior lay a volcano of emotions so immeasurable that no one and nothing could possibly offer any solace.
Except Starsky.
Starsky hadn’t been repulsed by this degree of feeling in the least. On the contrary, he had welcomed it with open arms. He had even encouraged Hutch to let go all the way. He could take it. He could comfort this wounded man who only wanted to find a safe haven to heal and belong, and no one had ever been strong enough to offer it. No one had been brave enough to be there for him and soothe him. They had only crushed his emotions implacably, teaching Hutch to repress them; to be ashamed of them and fear them.
All the beauty Hutch cradled inside, and only Starsky had ever been allowed to know it. It had been insane, devastating. Hutch had abandoned himself to a paroxysm of tears and agony that had resulted in the blond becoming physically sick. He would never forget those terrible moments in Gillian’s bathroom, when he had held a retching Hutch who even in the middle of throwing his guts up, still couldn’t give up the crying and the tears that were killing them both.
And Starsky had taken it all, gratefully. And he had considered it the honor of a lifetime.
But a few minutes later, as easily as when you turn a faucet off, Hutch had closed the dam of his emotions, and pulled himself together with his characteristic iron will to go out there and nail Gillian’s murderer.
Starsky had understood then. He had understood far more than he had bargained for. And his love, respect and admiration for his blond brother grew beyond all measure.
He remembered that, and knew why Hutch was behaving the way he did. That tender heart was bleeding to death, and Hutch was set on sparing Starsky this time. He was determined to stop feeling so much, to stop hurting so much. Even if it meant putting the brakes on their relationship… or worse.
Starsky took a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. He didn’t intend to let it happen; because if his partner got away with it, both of them would be as good as dead.
The sound of the bathroom door being slowly opened brought him back to reality with a shiver. The form that emerged from the cubicle looked even worse than the man who had entered it a few minutes earlier. Hutch looked ravaged. He was pale to the point his skin seemed translucent, dragging his feet along like an old man. Under his light PJ’s he looked even thinner than 30 minutes ago. Big rings under his eyes gave his face an almost deathly look; his features seemed sharper, like carved in stone. Even the shiny blond hair that always reflected the light and made that gentle, noble face glow, looked opaque now.
His first instinct was to rush forward and hold his irritating, stubborn partner in his arms until he squeezed some sense back into him. But he knew that Hutch’s pigheadedness equalled, if not sometimes surpassed, his own. So, paraphrasing that old saying, it was time to use the carrot instead of the stick. Confrontation wasn’t the right approach anymore. Hutch would best him at it. Feelings were what Hutch was running away from. They would be the most effective weapon against him now.
It was his only chance, and it’d better work, because there was no way on Earth he would live a life without Hutch in it.
The blond man turned his head and looked at him. Starsky shuddered. The agony in those deep-set eyes was infinite, no matter how hard Hutch was trying to hide it. The ironical sneer that covered the momentary slip felt wrong on the sweet face, and convinced Starsky that Hutch was going to make it as difficult as he possibly could.
He would have to strip Hutch bare of every layer and expose the pure and vulnerable core that lay beneath. He was well aware that he was trying to provoke the same brutal release, the same extreme reaction that had been unleashed with Gillian’s death, but Starsky wasn’t afraid. There was nothing to fear about Hutch’s feelings. He cherished them all, the good and the bad, for all of them came from his partner’s heart.
“Thanks for clearing the table,” Hutch said tonelessly.
“Oh, sure,” Starsky replied. “Are you going to bed?” he asked after the briefest pause.
“Yeah, I’m tired. You can go now,” the blond man invited unceremoniously.
“You’re that desperate to get rid of me, huh?” Starsky spoke out in a strained voice.
Hutch gazed at him with the same enthusiasm he would sport if he was watching paint dry. “Frankly, yes,” was the cold response.
“Why, thank you very much,” Starsky countered bitterly.
Hutch rolled his eyes exasperatedly, as if trying to reason with an impenitent child. “Starsky, it’s almost 10 PM. I guarantee I’m going to sleep through the night. What’s the point of you staying here, watching over a sleeping man? Go home. You can come tomorrow and prepare my breakfast, if you’re that desperate to be around me.”
The last words felt like a slap on the face to the shorter man.
“You’re getting awfully nasty, partner. You’re lucky I’m in patient mode.”
“More reason for you to leave, then,” Hutch arched an eyebrow pointedly.
Starsky could see that was exactly what Hutch wanted, but he wasn’t about to grant him his wish. Hutch was sadly mistaken if he thought Starsky was going to walk out and leave things the way they were. “I will,” he answered with a crooked smile. “Soon enough.”
Hutch shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he replied, walking slowly toward his bed without a backward glance. Exhausted, he opened it and slipped between the cool sheets, that almost felt warm. The chill in his soul would freeze a desert. He had effectively succeeded in turning his heart into stone, except for one little fact: the tremor that was making his body shake all over.
He would beat himself for the cruel, vicious way he was treating his partner. He grabbed the bedclothes and squeezed them until his knuckles turned white. Was this the man he had become? A poor bastard who made others pay for his pain? Was Starsky to pay for his cowardice?
He closed his eyes tight. He wanted this to stop, but if he wanted Starsky to get his message once and for all, he couldn’t afford to be lenient. Starsky had to listen. He had to stay away from him for his own good.
He was tired, confused, irritated, scared, sad, hurting… And Starsky’s affection and his refusal to take the hint and leave, hurt him too.
All of him was dying to reach out and find comfort in his partner. How would he survive without those bearhugs, that toothy grin, that boyish charm, that innocent openness that were his most cherished treasures? Starsky’s heart was his home, the only home his weary spirit had ever found.
No, he was slipping again! He would never subject Starsky to the same horror he had witnessed after Gillian’s death.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the deeply disturbing images of that evening. He had always prided himself on his self-control. Years of merciless parental tutoring had taught him to keep a tight rein on the feelings that no one seemed to care about. He had turned self-restraint into a form of art. Only his wife had been allowed beyond that masterfully locked door. But after Vanessa’s final humiliation, he swore to himself that no one would ever ‘touch’ him again. He would only let people get as close as he permitted. Never an inch too close.
Ironically, a funny curly-haired jewish guy he had met only a few weeks before his marriage blew up, decided to stick by him and not let him dwell on the wreckage his life had become. And before he knew, the most wondrous, unique relationship had blossomed between them, mending his wounded heart. It sounded sappy, but that was exactly what Starsky had done. He had taken his scarred spirit in his hands, and healed it with his love of life, his streetwise insight and his gentleness.
Hutch had never met a man like him. Starsky looked and behaved like the typical macho man; but he was so much more than that. Starsky didn’t fit any stereotypes, no matter how much he looked like some of them. To begin with, he had no qualms whatsoever about making his feelings known whenever it pleased him, and showering other people with them. And almost against his will, Hutch found himself responding. It felt so right, so natural, with Starsky. Sometimes, the fierceness of his own responses to Starsky’s friendly overtures astonished him. He felt his heart opening and the most beautiful, sublime feelings coming out of it. And he gave them all to his partner. He shared everything with him. And Starsky shared all of himself with Hutch in return. He had never known such beauty and he fed on it. Bacause he’d come to crave it.
Until that fateful day, when he had found his beloved Gillian lying on the floor, dead. In retrospect, it had been too perfect to last. He lived in a state of permanent exhilaration, giddy with joy and happiness. He had found the love of his life and he had the best friend anybody could ever have always beside him. Life couldn’t get any better than that. The shock of finding his dream dead on the floor hit him harder than he’d been able to handle, cause he’d understood right then and there that love was lost to him forever. Gone for good, with Gillian.
The brutal shock broke through his defences, leaving his vulnerable core torn to pieces and exposed to the pain and suffering that bombarded him from all fronts; even from Starsky, with all the shit he was spouting about Gillian being a hooker.
And he had released all those feelings by turning against the only person who loved him more than anyone ever had. He hit Starsky, shook him around viciously before opening his eyes and acknowledging the truth that had been crystal clear all along, if only love hadn’t blinded him to it.
The shame, pain and need of comfort he had felt then made every other feeling pale in comparison, and all his being begged for a little compassion and understanding.
And Starsky had been there for him. Sweet Lord, and how! Starsky took his every raw, inconsolable feeling, and cradled it in his heart as he cradled his rapidly collapsing body in his arms.
He had been terrified. He had never felt anything so strongly. All those feelings were suffocating him, making him want to shrink into himself and die. He felt small and ugly, a bitter failure. This was what his parents had been warning him against all those years. This level of feeling was insane, wild. And his public display felt indecorous, obscene. He felt so mortifed he got sick.
He wanted to spare Starsky and push him away, but his partner wouldn’t have any of it. Moreover, he encouraged him to give up all pretense, all control, and let it all out.
And Hutch opened the floodgates of his heart and released all the pain he’d been holding back for thirty years. And Starsky took it all, enveloping him in his arms and encompassing him whole. Not just his sagging body, but all of his being. His partner’s warmth, his caring, his boundless love reached out and wrapped him in a fragrant blanket of comfort and tenderness.
He had never felt so cherished, so completely accepted, even down to the darkest, ugliest parts of him. Even in this primal state, Starsky wasn’t repulsed by him. He was just there for him. All the way.
He had no strength left, not even to cling to Starsky for dear life. They ended up on the floor of Gillian’s bathroom, with Starsky holding him while he vomited his guts out.
The scandalous intensity of his feelings had gotten him sick, and left him shattered and broken. But Starsky still gave him everything he needed, attuned as he always was to every fiber of his being. He lovingly helped him to put the pieces back together, and Hutch managed to get a grip on himself in order to go out and catch Gillian’s assassins.
Maybe Starsky hadn’t been repulsed, but Hutch had been thoroughly repelled by his ghastly display. It scared him to death to see himself rendered completely helpless, paralyzed by grief. It was the greatest shock to witness firsthand the depth of his own needs, how low he could fall because of them. It had been insane. His feelings had robbed him of the dignity and self-control that had always ruled his life.
That first time had been a warning, but he’d ignored it. Starsky’s unconditional love had blinded him to it.
And the second time had happened when he was dying alone in a hospital bed. Then, instead of accepting his fate, he had despaired and cried, and condemned himself to an even more pathetic death, hallucinating constantly about his partner, groaning out for him like a terrified five year old, only to be denied that final comfort, except for some gloved and masked moments wrapped in white lies that had only caused more pain.
It was the ultimate mockery. He had begged for a little human touch before he died, and he had been rewarded with a crude travesty of the private, soulfilling times they had shared in the past. He’d only wanted to die in his partner’s arms, and his death wish had been denied.
He had come to fear loneliness more than death itelf. That was what feelings had done to him.
Feelings were painful, an endless source of embarrassment and humiliation.
But the greatest truth of all was that without Starsky and the feelings he stirred in him, there was nothing worth living for, no humanity left in him.
It hurt less to give up love when you’ve never known it than when you’ve basked in it for years. He had known the beauty of Starsky’s soft words, the encompassing safety of his arms wrapped around him, the joy of his smile, always capable of lifting his spirits in any situation. Without them, he was nothing.
It was a losing battle he was fighting.
No! Never! Never again! His father was right. Love was a fanciful dream you latch on to when you’re weak and can’t bring yourself to face the ugliness of the outside world alone. Proof of it was that when you need it the most, you always find yourself alone.
But Starsky’s love and devotion had never failed him. Never! He had been searching for Callendar, that was why he couldn’t be with him. Starsky had saved his life. Without him, he would’ve been dead for years now, in more ways than one.
He just… he just wanted to stop hurting. He wanted to stop needing Starsky to smile, to feel… to be! It would soon come a time when their ever increasing feelings would backfire and destroy them.
Who was he trying to fool? Face it once and for all, you moron! He had come to depend on Starsky completely. He was the weak one. And one day, sooner or later, Starsky would grow to resent him, resent the lack of a private life he could truly call his own.
Over and over, Hutch came to the same conclusion. His past had finally caught up with him. The emotional abandonment he suffered as a child had been sublimated by Starsky’s love, and greedy bastard that he was, he still craved for more. Always more. He had become an emotional vampire.
It had to stop.
He knew Starsky would deny every attempt of reasoning. He would find a sound answer for every argument Hutch gave. And he couldn’t allow it. Starsky was too close to the problem to see it clearly. But thankfully, Hutch’s eyes had been opened before it was too late.
It had to be done, as simple as that. They had to be strong on their own if they wanted to be stronger together. He hadn’t lied before, he was really losing himself in their partnership. He couldn’t function without Starsky anymore, and in their job, that was the equivalent of a death wish. He would do this by fair means or foul, Starsky had given him no other choice.
He prayed he could survive breaking his friend’s heart. Every barbed comment he lashed out was killing him, but he had to hang on. He had been used to locking his feelings behind walls that nothing and no one could penetrate. He could take it. He only had to remind himself that he was doing it for Starsky, his Starsk. He would go through this because Starsky’s well-being was everything to him. It was the only thing he was left to give – to ensure his independence and emotional balance.
He ground his teeth when he remembered Starsky’s uncanny deduction of his earlier words coming from his father. His partner’s perceptiveness often was a pain in the ass. But the truth was that Hutch had been forced to accept his father’s words not because he had given up, but because the old man was right. And when someone was right, the wise thing to do was yielding to their point of view. He hadn’t liked what Starsky implied, but he recognized it as his partner’s way of trying to shake him up and reach him.
Forcing himself to strengthen his resolve, Hutch felt a cold breeze grazing at his heart again. Not even at the hospital had he felt so cold.
Starsky was the source of all warmth and strength. Without him… Hutch closed his eyes when he felt helpless tears filling them. He bit his lower lip, almost drawing blood. He sniffed softly and opened his eyes. A sudden feeling of dizziness and vertigo made him close them again and clasp the bedclothes tighter. He felt as if his big and lonely bed was swallowing him alive. He felt like a tiny island in the middle of an immense ocean of nothingness.
He couldn’t make it without his partner.
But he would. Because this was the best for the two of them, no matter how painful.
He tucked himself up to his shoulders. Everything was suddenly dark and grey around him. And so cold! Another brutal shudder racked his aching body, but he endured it.
He would never be warm again.
Starsky watched Hutch walking tiredly toward his bed. His partner’s body expression immediately reminded him of the words ‘dead man walking.’ Hutch’s footsteps, his entire body language, spoke of a man who’d lost all hope, all reason to live.
He heard the soft sounds of the mattress’ springs screeching under his friend’s weight and a few seconds later, a bone-chilling silence enveloped the apartment.
Starsky looked down and took a deep, calming breath. He turned about and, bending forward and placing his hands on the table, blew out the candle. The whole place suddenly felt desolate.
He had to be patient. And calculating. And “attack” when Hutch less expected it, when he thought he was safe in his little bubble of self-preserving emotional sterility.
Starsky was very good at putting himself in his partner’s shoes. This horror had left Hutch hanging on the verge of a deep pychological trauma. He was still very weak physically and his state of mind was just as shaky. He thought he could hide the truth from him by claiming he needed to distance himself from their partnership, but as usual, Starsky saw right through that half-truth. This traumatic experience had opened Hutch’s eyes to just how raw and insatiable his need of comfort was, and he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, to himself and to Starsky.
The dickhead! Couldn’t he see that this crisis had been just as hard for Starsky? Closeness was the balm to their pain. Closeness was the only answer! How could Hutch have forgotten that? How could he make such a drastic decision for the two of them? How dare he close the door on all the years of shared tears, pain and joy, laughter and love? They had survived those awful times thanks to that closeness. To that unique and precious bond. Dammit, he wouldn’t let Hutch take that treasure away from them!
He needed to calm down again. Casting a quick look around the apartment, he began putting things away here and there until he pulled himself together.
How could Hutch think that staying away from him was going to make things better or easier for them? Starsky also needed comfort from the horror they had gone through, from the horror they faced and lived with day after day. And that comfort had translated into physical closeness from very early in their relationship. There was so much peace in human touch! Lesser men would probably find such intimacy to be a sign of weakness, but to them it had always been a source of strength as they had never known. Their closeness was a big part of what motivated them to face the lowlife they confronted every day in the streets, with a warmer heart and a renewed determination to make a difference.
He would die before letting Hutch reduce this miracle to a pale shadow of the glory it could be.
Taking a final deep breath, he turned about and looked at the huddled form under the bedclothes. His heart ached. The image of a restless Hutch twisting and turning in his hospital bed the night before the first symptoms appeared, filled his mind all of a sudden. How helpless he had felt! Separated from his partner by a simple glass that felt like the Iron Curtain. So close and yet so far. Unable to touch him, unable to step into the room, hold him in his arms and promise him that everything would be all right. And when he practically pushed his way inside, those few minutes with Judith as a witness felt like a practical joke. Hutch had shut him out from the very beginning and all but thrown him out of the room. It had been the most disturbing experience.
He knew the two of them craved for the moments they had been robbed of. He wouldn’t allow Hutch to deny them now. He would get through that thick skull of his, no matter what. His steadfast, honest love would defeat the merciless reasoning that the ghost of Richard Hutchinson had instilled in his friend’s brain all the hours he had been completely helpless to defend himself, cut off from his partner’s loving influence.
Starsky’s heart broke when he saw the now fragile body trembling under the bedcovers. It felt like a call to his very soul and he walked up to the brass bed and looked down at the blond man in it, who immediately turned onto his left side, turning his back on him, literally and metaphorically. Starsky stood where he was, not giving an inch.
“You finished stalling?” Hutch finally said in a strained voice. He tried to sound exasperated, but Starsky felt the pain and need there, a perfect mirror of his own. He took one step closer to the bed.
“Yes,” he answered in a deep voice.
“And shouldn’t you split now?”
Starsky smiled to himself. “I will; when I’m finished… with you,” the gentleness in his voice surprised even him.
Hutch sighed, hardly managing to control his irritation. “Starsky, I’d really like to get some sleep; and I’ve had enough of your pathetic attempts at psychoanalizing me.”
“Good, in that case you won’t mind me telling you a bedtime story instead.”
Wondering if he had heard correctly, Hutch immediately looked back at his smiling partner. “What?!” he asked, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
“That’s what adults usually do when children are going to sleep, right?” Starsky’s smile never wavered.
His partner’s mildly condescending tone of voice made Hutch see red. Setting his jaw at having his repeated requests for a little privacy denied, he stiffened and turned his back on Starsky again.
Starsky was too aware of the risk he was taking by stirring Hutch’s anger, but he wasn’t about to ‘step back’ and let his friend push him away. This was a fight to the death between David Starsky and Richard Hutchinson for Hutch’s soul.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the upcoming battle. Praying for a little help from above, he heaved a soft sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed. He lay his hand on Hutch’s ankle, needing at least one point of contact with his partner’s body.
A moment later, Hutch jerked his foot away from Starsky’s light grasp.
The curly-haired man winced painfully. Hutch’s flat rejection of his touch was so foreign, so unnatural, that he felt as if he had been stabbed with the finest dagger.
Ignoring the pain, Starsky’s determination redoubled. Hutch could yell at him, insult him, but by the time the day was over, they would be sleeping in each other’s arms; as sure as fate! He cleared his throat softly.
“Once upon a time…” he began in a sudden faraway voice. He let himself be swept away by the fantasy he was conjuring up that he knew was no fantasy at all. An almost ethereal quality filled his voice, like a shaman casting a spell on all those around him. “Once upon a time there was this beautiful little boy. He had blue eyes, blond hair and the gentlest soul. His family was educated and wealthy, and he apparently had everything a child could need to grow healthy and happy. Unfortunately, the boy’s parents were cold and hardhearted, and they made of the little boy’s childhood the most unhappy years of his life. He just wanted to love and be loved, but he was taught to hold back his feelings instead, because it was bad taste and inappropriate.”
Hutch felt as if someone had reached into his chest, grabbed his heart and squeezed it to pulp. He tried to free himself from the searing pain, but he was a prisoner of his partner’s words, just as he was a prisoner of the emotional armor his father had dressed him with since he was old enough to remember.
Instinctively, he moved to the farthest edge of the bed, as far away from Starsky as he could without falling off the bed, and closed his fist around the pillow. He wished he could cover his ears, but that would give away the fact that Starsky was getting to him. He wouldn’t renounce his precious control. Control was all he had left, since Starsky seemed determined to pull the rug from under his feet. He tried to concentrate on something else, anything, but it was useless. Starsky’s soft, warm voice was reaching inside him and coaxing him into opening up again. The pull was so strong that resisting it felt out of the question. This was his partner, his best friend, the closest person to his heart. And the person who could hurt him the most, and beyond repair.
The most ironical thing was that he had given Starsky the weapons he was using against him now.
Starsky didn’t stop. He went on relentlessly, painstakingly… tenderly. “The little boy grew up and became a gorgeous big blond beauty. Everything was perfect outside… but broken inside. He’d learned his lesson, or so everybody thought. But his need of love and being loved never went away. He just moved on; crippled, lonely, longing for something that no one seemed willing to give.”
Starsky made a short pause and took a deep, shaky breath. He was accompanying Hutch through his vital journey, connected to him soul to soul. Swallowing the massive lump in his throat, he continued.
“One day, he met this beautiful lady who won his love-starved heart. He offered himself as he’d never done before. He thought he’d found his one true love, that special someone who’d always stand by him, support him and love him no matter what, just as he was ready to do for her. Everything was perfect for a while, and he opened up all the way, thinking there was nothing to fear anymore. Feeling safe and truly loved for the first time in his life, he plucked up his courage and decided to follow his heart all the way. Trusting his wife to support his decisions just as he supported hers, he chose to protect and to serve, and become a cop. To his horror, his lovely wife revealed her true colors then. She had no intention of becoming the wife of someone who didn’t care about improving his professional status, capital and position, and only aspired to make the lives of all poor unfortunate souls out there a little easier. A generous, noble man who’d prefer to be able to look at himself in the mirror over his savings account. She broke his heart from the inside and abandoned him, throwing his love in his face, never looking back at the shattered pieces she left behind.”
Hutch buried his face in the pillow, desperately trying to protect himself from the anguish that Starsky’s tale evoked in him. He wanted to scream until everything was over, but he couldn’t. He would have to ride this out until Starsky considered he had tortured him enough.
But even if it killed him, Starsky wouldn’t get what he sought. He’d endure this until the end.
“The young man swore to himself he’d never let anyone break his heart again. Loneliness was infinitely preferable to disappointment and betrayal of such caliber. He steeled himself against closeness of any kind.” Starsky made a short pause and took another deep breath. “But, lo and behold, in the Academy he’d met this incredibly handsome, gorgeous and intelligent fella, with an irresistible personality, who immediately recognized in that klutzy, tripsy long-legged Midwest boy the best friend any man could ever have. He saw the burden the young man was carrying, how scarred his soul was and how hard he was trying to not open up to another. At first, Blondie rejected all the friendly gestures the other man attempted. He was nice, kind and polite, but that was all. But with a little understanding and patience from this irresistible guy, a beautiful friendship began to form between them.”
There was another pause.
“Have you finished?” Hutch asked in a somewhat strangled voice.
Starsky smiled sadly and reached out to rest his hand on the steadily trembling body. But remembering how jumpy Hutch was, he drew back his hand. He would touch only when asked. “No, baby blue, I haven’t,” he said, oozing tenderness. “I’m just warming up.”
Starsky could feel Hutch’s anger and frustration coming out in waves. “I’ll talk in the first person now ‘cause there are a few things I want to share with you. Things I wanna remind you of.”
He sighed softly and observed the curled up form under the bedclothes with adoration. “It took me some time to get through that thick hide of yours, partner, but I always knew what lay in your heart. I figured you out from the first moment I saw you. The more you tried to hide it the clearer it was to me. I could see that pure heart starved for love,” he smiled in sweet surrender then. “As starved as mine was.”
Hutch closed his eyes, wishing he never had to open them again. The feelings Starsky was stirring in him felt like blows. He knew his partner was trying to break him by showing him his own love-starved heart, but he couldn’t afford to pay the price anymore.
“Perhaps you’re wondering how the story ends,” Starsky swallowed the burning lump in his throat. “Well, only that little boy knows. He’s the only one who’s got that power. But before he makes up his mind and ruins his life, and mine in the process, just hear me out, Hutch. I swear on my dad’s grave that you’re the only thing I care about. You know me. You know I’m telling you the truth. But that’s what scares you the most, isn’t it?”
Hutch held back a hiss and made a fast grab for the bedclothes.
“When you started to like me, you opened up again to another human being. You knew you were finally safe. But deep down, you always remained terrified of your emotions, of the brutal intensity of your feelings. And you always held back a part of yourself. All those years of ‘training’ helped you to control how much of yourself you were giving, even to me. That’s why you’ve always managed to stay cool under any situation. Even when you’ve been fighting for my life, you’ve managed to ride those emotions ‘cause there was a greater good to protect. Me. And only when the danger was over, you allowed yourself the release of those feelings. I bet it felt really good, stepping back a little and opening up, so those feelings came out so measured and calm.”
The knuckles gripping the bedclothes turned white.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, partner.” Starsky immediately realized his last words must have stung. “You just never planned it that way, did you? You never thought this handsome fella’d get so deep under your skin. You came to care about me so much that it became more and more difficult to control your emotions around me. I’m sure it felt wonderful the first few years, when you realized you were free to trust and feel so much around someone else. But one fateful day, all that precious control blew up. Your greatest fear came true and I saw your wounded, naked soul in all its fierce need.”
He sighed sadly. “But there’s one thing you don’t know, buddy. I knew all along. And I was ready for it. I wanted to show you that I’d be there when you fell, and I’d hold you tight and strong. You didn’t have to be afraid of your feelings, cause they’re all beautiful to me. The day Gillian died I finally got to know you, Hutch. Know you all the way. And you’re even more beautiful than I thought possible. That’s the only time I fell short of my expectations. We’ve gone through so much together, we’ve seen each other at our worst. Forest, Prudholm, Rosey… I’ve seen you losing it and been strong for you, and you’ve seen me going berserk and you always managed to keep me focused and whole. But that day you lost all control and I saw the part that you’d kept hidden all these years… It was the most terrible and special moment of my life, Hutch. I felt helpless because I couldn’t give you Gillian back, and honored that I was there to hold you.”
He looked down then and his fingers started playing nervously with some loose threads of Hutch’s cover. “But it wasn’t the same for you, was it? You were ashamed of me seeing you like that. So in need. I saw how deeply you feel everything and it freaked you out. Your own feelings scared you and you thought I’d be put off by them.” Hutch’s deathly stillness confirmed his words and Starsky heaved a long sigh. “But that was your impression, Hutch, not mine. It was devastating, but so beautiful!” He let out a tiny smile. “All right, I know, you hit me. But even in that blow there was so much love and despair. There was so much of you in there! I’d have gratefully taken a thousand blows if it’d have eased your pain somehow.” His eyes reddened suddenly, but he resolutely held the tears back. “But thank God, you didn’t stop and think about it. Not too much, anyway. Gillian was gone, and the pain was so big you never got to thinking too much about all that. I was there to tell you how precious your feelings are to me, and that I was glad to be there for you because I’m your friend.” He sighed again. “And life went on… until Callendar.”
Hutch’s eyes burned with the sting of a million unshed tears. Starsky was breaking him into a billion little pieces. It hurt to think, to breathe, to be. He just wanted to close his eyes and find oblivion in sleep. But even that pitiful relief was being denied.
“Callendar opened that can of worms again. All the way,” Starsky continued. “And you couldn’t escape the thoughts that came back to tear you apart when you couldn’t defend yourself. That’s why we’re here now.” He patted the bed a couple times, as if trying to comfort them both. “Do you think I don’t know what’s really going on here? I saw it startin’ the night before your first symptoms appeared. I saw you twisting and turning in your bed, as if you were trying to run away from a monster that was after you. I knew what it was, who it was, that’s why I wrote my name in the glass. I knew I was the only one who could chase that ghoulie away.” He looked down, plagued by grief. “But I couldn’t be with you. I had no choice but leave you alone with that bastard. I was fighting for your life, and I figured we’d deal with him later, when you were safe.” He sighed once more. “But I didn’t count on the power that creep still had over you. And I bet you didn’t count on it either. He attacked when you were most vulnerable and didn’t stop until you caved in.”
“Starsky…” the immeasurable torment in that wail said it all, and Starsky felt his heart bleed. Always together, even when they were at odds with each other. Always deep in each other’s souls. And there was no place on Earth Dave Starsky would rather be.
“I know, buddy. I know,” he reassured gently. “He sneaked in your sleep, when you were feverish and scared, and he spouted his age-old shit about what a fool you had been to love so much and entrust your feelings to another, only to find yourself abandoned on your deathbed.”
Hutch shuddered savegely under the sheets, and Starsky’s body responded with a shudder of its own.
“He told you that’s the way things are in this world, that love’s a fool’s illusion, that a real man is self-reliant and doesn’t need others to comfort him and hold his hand when he’s hurting. I bet he sounded almost caring when he told you that you could’ve spared yourself all that pain. If you had never allowed yourself to care that much, you would’ve died in peace, cause you’d have no emotional attachments. And you believed him, didn’t you? It hurt so much that those words felt like a balm.”
The image of a slowly fading Hutch filled Starsky’s mind. It was an image that had haunted him for weeks now, vivid and enduring. Hutch, his Hutch, the man-child he’d cradled in his arms so many times before, dying a long, agonizing death, alone in a barren hospital bed.
Needing a distraction from the horrifying image, if only momentarily, Starsky’s mind conjured up dozens of both painful and joyful, but always precious memories. Moments they’d spent in each other’s arms, letting their bodies speak the language only the two of them knew. Like one dark night in a small hotel room in Duluth, when he’d comforted his broken partner after attending his grandmother’s funeral; a strung-out Hutch clinging to his shirt like a terrified child, begging him for help; a tipsy Hutch succumbing to sleep with his head on his lap while they watched the Lakers-Celtics game; Hutch casually resting his chin on his shoulder while he watched him ordering breakfast at Pancho Villa’s and shaking his head patronizingly at the sight of his choice… Thousands of moments of intimacy the blond had ended up taking for granted, only to have them taken away from him when he’d needed it the most – when his life was coming to an end.
Starsky closed his eyes against the recurrent images. A deathly pale Hutch, his weakened body drenched in sweat, coughing his lungs out, moaning his name over and over, isolated from all human touch in a sterile oxygen tent, and with his mind burning with fever-induced hallucinations that loomed over him like vultures, trying to kill his soul before his body followed it. He shook his head. For a second, he had seen those images in his mind’s eye, he had felt Hutch’s stark terror that only Starsky could soothe, and his worst nightmare of all coming true: not having Starsky by his side.
“Do ya think I can’t imagine what you went through those hours in the isolation room?” he almost spat. “You think I don’t know how you felt? With your father cornering you and telling you all that crap about feelings not being worth it if this was all you’d have in the end? Crying out for me, begging me to make your father go away and prove him wrong, and receiving no answer? To have me failing you?” Starsky paid no attention to the tears that rolled down his face. “I understand why you sent me away when I finally dropped by. It was too late already, wasn’t it? The fucking bastard had already won and you were disappointed in me for proving him right.”
Hutch had never felt so cold. It permeated his bones, freezing him from the inside out. But Starsky was sliding deep within and fighting the coldness in his soul with the warmth of his love. Always there for him, a rock to lean on, his only constant in this unforgiving world. Stronger than ever, obstinately battling his father’s presence inside him. And yet, he still felt the need to resist. It had been too much, more than he could bear. His father had broken him. It had been so easy once he’d begun to understand his old man’s point of view! And now, coming from Starsky’s lips, it sounded like a blasphemy, a perversion.
He heard a harsh sniffling sound behind him and he knew that his tough, thorough hater of soapy scenes partner was fighting back tears. A searing pain raked through his body. He knew that pain. It was Starsky’s pain he was feeling. He’d felt it a thousand times before. It was the pain you feel when you care about someone more than you care about yourself.
It couldn’t be! Starsky was fighting his father from within, and winning! Hutch pounded the pillow, angrier than he would ever be. Angry at Starsky for bringing him back to a world of terrifying emotions that hurt, and angry at himself for causing his partner a moment’s pain.
“But how do you think it was for me, buddy? Huh?” Starsky’s voice went on, suddenly filled with painfully detached contempt. “Until now, we’d always fought our battles together. And now, for the first time, I couldn’t be with you. I was cut off from you, searching for a creep I couldn’t’ve cared less if he had been just another turkey to arrest. But that man was your life, so he became my life too.” He looked down. “I know that you understand why I couldn’t be with you. But sometimes, even though our minds know, our hearts aren’t so smart. Your heart only knew you were sick, you were dying… Dying!” Starsky clenched his fists in helplessness. “You knew that your time was runnin’ out and every minute that passed was one minute less you had in this world. You wanted comfort, you needed me as you’d never needed me before, and I wasn’t there. I-wasn’t-there!” Starsky swallowed heavily, experiencing through his own words the depth of the agony and horror his partner had suffered. Every person’s greatest fear – to die alone – had very nearly come true for Hutch. No one deserved such a death, and it had been doubly unbearable for his friend after all the love they’d shared. It was no wonder his old man had visited him in his delirium and offered him the most painless way out for the inhuman end he was facing.
Yes, he could understand Hutch, but that didn’t mean his partner was doing the right thing. He was condemning them both to a life that wasn’t worth living, a life without each other’s love to make this ugly world a better place. He knew Hutch knew, but his big blond had reached his breaking point. He felt he couldn’t go on like this anymore – caring so much, caring too much. This nightmare had killed something inside Hutch and now Starsky had to put his friend’s pieces back together, as they’d done for each other so many times by now.
Hutch’s words about them having to tone down their relationship, step back from their closeness and stop living in each other’s pockets made terrible sense now. They hadn’t been a smokescreen, they had been the deadly honest truth. Hutch was truly losing himself in their partnership. Or so he thought.
Starsky had to convince him that love was the only way. Hutch had believed it himself until mere days ago. What kind of twisted psychological shit would his partner have uncovered from his past to make him turn his back on a lifetime of undying faith as the years they’d shared together?
‘You’ll never have him, you fucking bastard! Hutch is mine. Mine! And I won’t give up on him. You have no right over him. You never did! You renounced that right when you denied him the love he deserved. The day you told him that feelings had to be scorned and hidden because they were ‘bad taste and improper’. Hard-hearted, cold-blooded creep! How could a fucker like you give life to someone as beautiful as my partner? No, you won’t have him! He belongs to me, just as I belong to him. He’s mine and I’m his. You won’t take him away from me. Not for as long as I live!’
Starsky’s teeth gritted in anger, but he forced himself to fill his heart with all the love and affection his friend stirred in him. It was easy. The mere thought of his partner’s name made him weak at the knees. “So, your father convinced you that the best way to stop hurting so much was to stop caring so much. If love could hurt so deeply, you’d be better off without it, right? It took him a few decades, but he finally made you like him. That’s why you started saying all that crap about us having to tone it down and step back a little.” Starsky took a deep breath and smiled the sweetest smile. “But you see, buddy. Your father never knew he’d have to face me first, and I’d rather die before seeing you become like him. I’m a man of few words, but I’ll keep talking until hell freezes over if I have to, to have you back. You can yell at me, you can insult me. You can hit me if you want, but I’m not gonna give up. I’ll never give *you* up, partner, cause without you there’s nothing out there for me.”
Hutch wanted to die. He couldn’t stand this! He couldn’t.
“You call this dependency. You say this isn’t healthy and there could come a time when it’d destroy us. Well, maybe that’s your truth, now; but it’s not my truth. Our partnership is the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me and I’m not gonna let it go. This partnership saved our lives more times than I can count. It saved us when everything around us was falling apart. If that’s dangerous or unhealthy, I don’t give a shit, you got me? This relationship works and I don’t care what a million shrinks have yo say about it. It’s us, Hutch. Us.” He smiled softly. “And it works for you too; then and now, even if you’re trying to deny it. Who gives a damn about the world’s opinion? What do they know? What do they care? This is you and I, this is our truth. This is right, so don’t try to spare me. Our friendship is our strength, it helped us to face your folks, my own demons, it helped us to survive after Terry and Gillian… and so many other things.”
Starsky stopped for a moment. He needed a pause to get over all the images and feelings that assaulted him after mentioning their two star-crossed ladies. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat and blinked back fresh tears. But he continued relentlessly. He wouldn’t stop until Hutch responded to him. He wouldn’t give him a minute’s rest. Not until he gave up on this cruel and unfair punishment he had inflicted on them both.
“Think, Hutch. Think! Remember Prudholm, the goons at the Italian restaurant, Vic Bellamy, Simon Marcus. If those are the words and actions of a love-driven fool then marry me, buddy, cause I couldn’t be in safer hands.” He tilted his head in an endearing gesture, watching his partner’s rigid form. He knew his words were getting through.
“You’re a survivor, partner. You’ve been through things that would’ve broken the bravest man. Forest…” he swallowed hard, “Grossman, Solkin, Humphries…”, he shuddered at the terrifying coincidence. “God, another time you had to face death alone in that canyon. But you survived cause you knew I’d find you.” He looked at the silky hair splayed on the pillow, longing to reach out and feel it between his fingers. He craved to give and receive comfort from his partner’s touch. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. None of those creeps managed to break you.” His gaze softened with the adoration and admiration he was feeling. “You never let the underworld we face every day get to ya. Oh, I have eyes and I know the price you pay for every soul we lose. But every soul we save, restores your faith back. We’re each other’s strength, Hutch. That’s not a bad thing. No one’s completely self-sufficient and anyone who tells you different is a liar. We’d die of loneliness if we had to face life alone. I’d die without you and I don’t consider myself a wimp. But there always comes a time when life breaks us and gives us more than we can bear. God knows we’ve had our share of those times. And every close call brought us closer to each other cause we know how rare what we have is, and how easily we could lose it. That’s why we’re all here, Hutch. To be good to each other and see each other through. That’s all that counts in the long run.”
Starsky swallowed heavily and his voice dropped an octave, knowing only too well just how important his next words would be, to both of them. “I’ll never let you die alone, Hutch. I promise. Don’t ever be afraid cause I’ll be with you until the end and beyond. Forever. I wasn’t with you this time because it wasn’t your time.” He smiled, knowing in his heart just how true his words were.
Hutch let out a breathless gasp. Something inside him was crumbling, tearing the walls he’d built around his heart, to protect himself from the love that hurt so much. Those walls would’ve stood against anything, he was certain of that. Anything… but Starsky’s affection.
“Don’t shut me out now, Blondie,” the voice felt like a warm and loving caress. “I know you. You can try and kick me outta your life, but a part of me’ll always stay with you. I’m part of you, Hutch, just like you’re part of me. The best part of me. You complete me, and you know it’s the same for you. I’m not gonna tone it down and step back a little, cause this relationship is my life, partner. That big heart of yours is my treasure and I won’t let you kill it, you hear me?” he raised his voice, daring Hutch to defy him.
Hutch’s body began trembling in earnest. He felt as if Starsky’s voice had ripped from him something dark and ugly and thrown it away. He bit his fist in a futile attempt to hold back the tears that tried to explode from him. He felt sick; sick and scared. He’d never felt so much cold. Not even in the isolation room, where he’d broken all fever records and the deadliest chills and fits of coughing had tortured him for hours, he had felt so cold. The armor of pride and aloofness he’d wrapped himself in, suddenly burned to ashes and lay at his feet like dust, leaving in its wake a broken human being in desperate need of comfort.
How had Starsky done it? How?! How had he slipped inside him and taken away all the will to resist? He felt exposed now, naked and vulnerable like a child. A child who was only too aware of the cruel, unnecessary harm he’d caused to an innocent person. The person who loved him like no one ever had.
The avalanche of overwhelming feelings swept him away and drowned him. He lurched forward in a sudden wave of nausea and a tiny moan escaped his throat. A deeply ashamed cry for undeserved help.
“I made a deal with God, you know?” Starsky said out of the blue, changing the subject abruptly. His insides churned with all the pain he felt coming from Hutch. He wanted nothing more than answer to his anguished plea for help, but first he had to inflict the death blow to the monster that was holding his partner’s soul hostage. “All the hours I was driving alone, looking at the empty seat beside me, I prayed like crazy for you to hold on. I promised Him that if you made it, I’d tell you everything I feel for you, and I’d make sure that you knew.” He shook his head. “Oh, I know you already know. We’ve both known for years. I know we don’t need to get that mushy, but it hurt to know I never told you. I mean, I say it to my mom every time I talk to her over the phone; I said it to my dad and Nicky; I said it to Helen and Terry and Rosey… But I never told *you*. And that’s wrong. If it hurt to think about it, that was because it was wrong.” He bent forward and took a deep breath, silently apologizing to his friend for resorting to such downright dirty tactics. “Come back to me, Hutch. I need you. I love you.”
Something inside Starsky seemed to blossom at that moment. As if the one door that had been closed since the day they’d met, had finally burst open. An astonishing wave of insight and understanding came over him all at once. “Just admitting that you need, that you love someone, takes so much courage!” he said in awe, looking away. “You’re so much braver than I, Hutch. You said the words. You always felt this comfortable in your feelings for me.” Yes, they were even more alike than he’d thought. Hutch had cowered to his father’s attack when he’d been sick and hurting, but he had denied his partner this joy, this ultimate gift of total trust. He understood then how scary this degree of love could be. Scary enough to run away from it when the pain outweighed the joy. Whenever it’d started to be more scary and painful than joyful to Hutch, it was his duty now to give him that joy back. He owed it to him. He owed him the shelter and security he’d offered after Gillian’s death. Tears came to his eyes and fell in rivulets down his cheeks.
He may have intended to break Hutch, but he’d ended up breaking himself instead. He’d discovered a couple truths about himself he didn’t expect to find.
Sighing softly, he pushed a little bit further, silently begging his partner’s forgiveness again. “Please, don’t leave me alone here with all this love I feel, Hutch. I know I’m not playing fair, but as they say, everything’s allowed in love and in war. And I’m at war here. My partner’s soul’s at stake and I intend to win. I love you, Hutch.” He smiled tenderly. “It feels so good to say it. I can’t believe I’ve been such an ass all this time.”
The spot where Hutch’s head lay, was soaked with tears. He trembled like a leaf. He bit his lips, desperate to spare Starsky the sound of his crying. He didn’t think his partner was playing dirty, but he knew it would be dirty of him to let Starsky know how much he needed him. He didn’t deserve any comfort after the unforgivably cruel way he had behaved. He’d renounced that right, he had thrown it in his friend’s face. Besides…
“I know what you’re thinking now,” Starsky smiled through his own tears. “You’re desperate to let go, but you’re feeling guilty after all the things you’ve said and done tonight. ‘Sides, you’re afraid that the king-size soapy scene that’s coming’s gonna put me off. But don’t you see, buddy? I need this too. Believe me. I’m sorry if my attitude ever made you hold back your needs. I’ll never forgive myself if I have.”
Starsky looked down in overwhelming shame, knowing that his partner had held back his need for tenderness more than once in the past. Why in hell had he repeatedly pointed out his dislike for soapy scenes when in fact, all their years together had been a flagrant example of the contrary? He wanted to bang his head against the wall.
A few seconds later, when the agonizing wave of guilt passed, he dared to look at his partner’s brutally trembling form. His own body shuddered in empathic reaction. The need for physical comfort was unbearable now, but he ruthlessly forced it under control. Not until Hutch was ready! Folding his arms across his chest protectively, he went on reassuring his partner. “You wanna know the real truth, Hutch? The truth is that soapy scenes make me uncomfortable. All but ours, buddy. I love to get soapy with you. Always have and always will.” He smiled then, his entire being radiating warmth.
Hutch let out a tiny choked sound. He sniffled and wiped his tears away in the clammy pillow, in the most heartbreaking display of need.
“Nobody’s perfect,” Starsky assured him, his heart constricting with pain. He couldn’t bear seeing Hutch like this. He trembled with the need to crush him to his chest. “All of us carry our own brand of shame and regret. You may think there’s nothing special about you, that you’re all fucked up and full of hang-ups. But to me, there’s nothing more beautiful and special than my Hutch. My partner. The one person in the world who puts up with me and my moods. The best friend anyone could ever have, even when he’s in dickhead mode.”
The same choked sound made itself known again, and the bed started shaking softly under the weight of Hutch’s inhumanly restrained emotions.
“You deserve everything I have to give and more, Hutch. I chose you as my friend with all that came with it. I’m the best person I can possibly be thanks to you.” He smiled and all of him seemed to glow with the all-encompassing love he felt. “I know what’s coming. I started it intentionally ‘cause you need this release. We both do.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Maybe I need it more than you.” His voice turned low and earnest. “I almost saw you die, Hutch. Please, don’t deny us this comfort. I can take it, I always could. Don’t hold back on me. We’ve had enough of this shit. Let go, buddy. I am here.” He reached out across the bed. “This is yours, partner.”
The memory those final words triggered, made Hutch moan in sheer agony.
“It’s your move now. Let go and let me heal you. You only have to say the words,” was Starsky’s final call.
Loud, helpless crying was Starsky’s only answer, and it immediately brought him to his feet, acting on an impulse.
Relinquishing the last shred of control he had left, Hutch opened the floodgates of his soul. Not even the evening he’d broken down after Gillian’s death he had felt this tsunami of inconsolable feelings erupting inside him. If that time had been absolute insanity, it was nothing compared to the cataclysmic emotions exploding from him now. There was no escape, no place for him to go.
If Starsky could forgive the unforgivable and was still willing to offer him the comfort of his arms, maybe he would survive. Maybe.
He convulsed in the bed, rebelling against his own mind desperately. The excruciating emotional pain, the chill that permeated his bones and the long denial of his suffering caught up with him at last. He couldn’t stop this any more than he could deny his love for this man who had become his very reason to live.
With an animal cry, Hutch yielded. A part of him heard soft, rushed sounds of rustling and clicking, but his body was way ahead of his mind to pay attention to those noises as it turned about and faced the only light in Hutch’s world.
The sight that greeted his eyes was the one of Starsky in T-Shirt and shorts, quickly slipping into his bed.
The two men stared at each other for an eternal moment in time, until Hutch’s bleeding soul finally surrendered.
“Touch me,” he implored in a small voice. “Hold me, please Starsk.” New tears rolled down his deathly pale face. Raw need filled every word, every letter. But he felt no shame. How could he, when he was pleading with the only person in the universe who loved him as he was? Despite who he was?
Starsky gave him the big, toothy grin that made every cell in his body sing, and opened his arms wide.
As a river flowing into the sea, Hutch fell into those arms as Starsky met him halfway.
The sound that left their throats was joy and exulting happiness as they’d never known before. It was almost orgasmic in its intensity and in the reaction it evoked in their touch-starved bodies. Their arms and legs immediately wrapped around each other as they sought intimacy under the bedclothes.
Starsky noticed the savage tremors racking the chilled body and started rubbing his hands all over it, trying to pass on to Hutch all the warmth in his own body. Hutch let out a sob of gratitude as he tried to lose himself in Starsky. The big, cold hands grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and the wet face buried itself in his neck, soaking it with the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.
“Starsky! Oh, oh, Starsk!” the blond man moaned.
“I’m right here, baby. All for you. Whatever you need. Anything you need!” Starsky exclaimed, responding in body and soul to the shy request in that voice. He clasped Hutch to him with a strength that surprised them both. His love for this man verged on madness.
“Forgive me, Starsk. Please, please forgive me!” Hutch cried out.
Starsky looked up and shook his head in disbelief. Even now…! “It’s okay,” he whispered into the cold little ear. “Nothin’ to forgive. You gave yourself a harder time than you gave me.” He couldn’t help himself and bestowed a tiny kiss on the lovely feature.
“I thought I was gonna die alone. I was so scared! I needed you so much!” Hutch was letting it all out and nothing could stop it.
“I know, I know. I felt the same,” Starsky reassured him, closing his eyes against the memory of those nightmarish hours. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Blintz. I couldn’t stand it!”
Hutch slipped down his partner’s body, nuzzling his T-shirt and pressing his face to the strong chest. “I need you, Starsky. I need you so!” He began rubbing his face against the soft cloth as if trying to disappear in him. “Hold me. Hold me. Hold me forever!”
“I’ll hold you forever, Hutch; I promise.” Starsky’s arms closed protectively around the wildly trembling body. The big frame suddenly felt tiny in his embrace as it cuddled up to his chest, and Starsky realized what was truly happening. He wasn’t just holding an adult male. He was holding and giving comfort to a little boy who’d never known that kind of security.
“Warm my soul, Starsk,” Hutch begged, pressing himself against Starsky from head to toe. “Bring me back to life. Love me!” His crying was infinitely worse than the disturbing evening at Gillian’s apartment. He was releasing a lifetime of pent-up emotions and neglected needs, and for one terrifying moment, Starsky feared he wouldn’t be enough.
Immediately shaking off the preposterous idea, he set on providing his beloved friend with everything he had. “I’m here, partner, don’t be afraid,” he wrapped his legs around Hutch’s tighter, and his body surged upward in a brutal spasm of need. “You’re safe. We both are. Nothing’s gonna hurt ya, Blondie.” The endearment made him move one hand from the broad back he was caressing to the fair head, and press it to his chest. The soft strands of hair slid between his fingers and Starsky thought he’d never touched anything so perfect. Bending his head, he caressed his own cheek with the velvety mane and kissed it.
“I love you, Starsky,” Hutch moaned. “I won’t ever doubt us again. I won’t let anything stand between us. Forgive me for questioning what we have, for rejecting it. I’m so unworthy!” More tears soaked Starsky’s shirt. Nothing seemed capable of soothing the overwhelming remorse, pain and guilt.
“Don’t say that!” Starsky raised his voice in shock and anger. “You’re everything to me and I won’t let you belittle yourself again!” He took a deep, calming breath. “It’s not your fault. You were sick and hurting and your biggest fear caught up with ya. But look at us now. You even got me to admit that I love getting soapy with you. I hope you’ll let me live that down.” He smiled knowingly.
Hutch let out a choked sound in the midst of his full-fledged crying. “Never! I’ll never let you live it down,” he promised, burying his face in the only home he’d ever known. He sniffed at his partner’s scent, filling his lungs with it. It was the best scent in the world. It brought so much peace to his heart that he almost felt faint. Nothing could harm him here, no power on Earth was strong enough to hurt him as long as he was safe in the circle of his partner’s arms.
Starsky laughed softly. “I knew you’d say that. ´Sides, I’m not sure I want to live it down. It feels too good in here,” he said in all honesty, cuddling the long body as a parent would a baby. Instinctively, he began a soft rocking motion. His hands moved again all over the broad back, feeling its coldness through the thin pajamas. He alternated soft caresses with hard pressure, revelling in both. Revelling in them.
Hutch couldn’t keep still. He couldn’t relinquish his hold on Starsky. He undulated against the smaller body compulsively, desperate for warmth. His flushed face nuzzled the muscular chest. For the second time in his life, he knew what absolute safety felt like. He absorbed the warmth coming out of his partner’s body. It smelled of love and tenderness and compassion. He burrowed into it needfully.
Starsky had never experienced anything like the feeling that was surging up from deep inside him. It brought a lump to his throat and his eyes filled with helpless tears. Images of Hutch, twisting and turning in his bed, fighting the demons from his past, and of his dying partner throwing him out of the room before being put in an oxygen tent, thus furthering his total isolation, assaulted him like spears. Those images were engraved forever in his brain. With an anguished cry, he held the endlessly trembling body just as Hutch pressed up desperately against him, prey to the same barrage of images.
Not another word was spoken. They let their bodies soak up the so longed for physical contact. It was so soulfilling that they eventually smiled through their tears. They basked in the glory of their love and something inside them glowed like the sun in the sky.
Unexpectedly, Hutch’s trembling worsened, and Starsky moved his hand up to the nape of his partner’s neck and massaged it lovingly. He felt his big blond melting against him as new, powerful sobs racked his body. “Shhh, shh, it’s okay, babe. Just hold on to me and it’ll pass. We’re gonna be okay, partner. Shhh…” Starsky kissed the top of his friend’s head. “This is all we need.” He smiled softly, knowing how true his words were.
Hutch nodded in his arms. He wanted to stop crying, but he couldn’t. He was crying tears of years of scorn and disdain in a world of unfeeling coldness and propriety. This was what living was about. Loving, caring, holding and being held. He’d always known this. How could he allow himself to forget it? How had he ended up following his father’s teachings after all the years of knowing better? He felt so ashamed that the tears exploded from him anew, stronger than before.
It hurt to cry like this. He was gasping and panting, aching all over; but he still couldn’t stop. The more he tried to control it the worse his crying got. And every single time, Starsky would hold him tighter, encouraging him to let it all out. And he did. He didn’t question his partner’s wisdom. He followed it blindly, knowing that he would do the same if their positions were reversed. As it had always been between them.
Suddenly, he remembered that Starsky had revealed needing this as much as he did. Since he’d gotten sick, his friend had been limited to looking at him through a glass window and touching him with gloves on. And after that he’d shut him out, all but forbidding him from touching him. A nauseating shiver ran up and down his spine. “Oh, Starsk!” he cried out, wrapping his arms around the strong back for dear life. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby! Oh, God, I’m sorry!”
“Oh, Hutch. Oh God, Hutch. Yes!” Starsky cuddled up to him with the same desperate intensity.
Almost climbing Starsky’s body, Hutch grabbed the powerful shoulders and buried his face in the soft neck, whispering soothing, cooing words of his own. Words he’d never spoken before.
“Hutch! Oh, my!” Starsky exclaimed with a moan, never easing his stranglehold on the blond’s body.
They hugged and whispered incoherent endearments to each other. They breathed in each other’s scent. They cuddled, hands moving up and down one another’s backs, sides, necks and hair. They trembled, both in need and in overwhelming bliss and fulfillment.
“Beautiful,” Starsky muttered to himself.
“So beautiful,” Hutch murmured at the same time.
They smiled at that and Starsky nuzzled the hair behind Hutch’s ear. Hutch bestowed a soft kiss on his partner’s cheek in answer. Everything was peace and contentment around and inside them. Especially inside. This was how it was supposed to be between them.
But it still wasn’t enough.
Starsky felt his partner kissing him shyly on the cheek again, and exploding with love he took the blond head in his hands. They stared at each other for a long moment.
“No more ‘we have to tone it down’?” Starsky finally asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
Blushing to the roots of his hair, Hutch shook his head.
“No more ‘we should step back a little’?”
Hutch shook his head again, his face turning a bright crimson.
“No more ‘this closeness we share is dangerous and unhealthy’?”
For the third time, Hutch shook his head.
“No more ‘we should stop living in each other’s pockets and on each other’s couches’?”
Starsky’s heart was blossoming with something new and wondrous. Something momentous was about to happen, he could feel it. Something that made his blood sing in anticipation. Hutch watched him, his expression suddenly expectant and intense. His eyes bored into Starsky’s and Starsky opened his heart wide, letting his partner look deep inside for the answer he needed.
It was getting closer and closer.
Whatever Hutch saw within him made him let out a long sigh, and lowering his head, he dropped a heart-stopping kiss on the center of Starsky’s chest. Then, he looked up again and met his friend’s eyes.
“No, Starsk,” his oath raised goosebumps all over their bodies. “Never again.”
Starsky’s hold on his partner’s head intensified all of a sudden. The entire world seemed to stand still, as the curly-haired man entered his partner’s soul through his eyes. Then, unhurriedly, his thumbs wiped away the tear tracks on Hutch’s cheeks. Without thinking, he brought the blond head closer and pressed the lightest, most delicate kiss on the closed lips.
When they moved back and gazed on each other, the implications of what they’d just done made themselves apparent.
The ultimate truth had just been uncovered. The final blinder had come off.
They saw it all and they understood it all. The strange restlessness that had come over them lately; the growing compulsion to be together as much as possible; the inexplicable sexual apathy that had befallen them… it was as if the sun had come out after months of darkness. A darkness they hadn’t even noticed was there.
Hutch was the first to react. He brought one hand up and began to slide his fingers all over Starsky’s cheek experimentally, as if trying to comprehend what this new discovery meant. He wiped away his partner’s tear tracks and then he moved further up. His fingertips caressed the half-closed eyelids and the long eyelashes. His thumbpad drew a lazy circle all around Starsky’s face, mapping every tiny little feature. A radiant smile lit up his face, in glorious understanding.
Following his dearest friend’s example, Starsky’s fingers splayed on the still flushed face and caressed it all over. He carded his fingers through the silky hair that had him completely enraptured. His thumbs stroked the baby soft cheeks, the blue eyes that closed languidly, allowing him all the exploration he desired. The eyelashes were so blond they were almost invisible. He felt as if his fingertips were being caressed by an invisible touch that only showcased their ethereal beauty. Hutch’s eyes opened and for the first time, Starsky saw himself reflected in them. What he saw there drove all rational thought from his mind.
The final question had been answered. The only question that mattered. And Hutch reaffirmed the certainty of their discovery by bending slowly forward and depositing the most reverent kiss on Starsky’s lips. There was no tentativeness or hesitation there, only affirmation, childlike curiosity and more love and trust than Starsky had ever felt coming from another human being.
Hutch moved back and opened his eyes. Starsky’s mouth fell open. They were swimming with unshed tears that gave them an eerie quality. The surface of that perfect blue rippled like waves on a pond. They were happy tears, he could feel it. The happiest tears. The same tears that were streaming down his own face and Hutch hurried to wipe away with long, gentle fingers.
It should feel strange. It should feel awkward being like this, doing this with another man. But it didn’t. It was the first time he’d kissed and been kissed by a man, and nothing had ever felt so right.
This was no mere man, though. This was Hutch. His Hutch. The man he knew inside and out. They’d just added a new dimension to their all-encompassing intimacy. No sexual relationship would ever bring them closer than they already were; spiritually, they were one and the same. And yet, it felt as if the final piece of their vital puzzle had fit at last.
Everything was out in the open now, waiting for them to make the final decision.
And in their eyes, they saw there was no decision to make. It had been made long ago, when they’d accepted each other and decided to love unconditionally. When they’d sworn to protect and cherish one another for as long as they lived. It would be silly to look for that last bit of intimacy in someone else when they could have everything in one beautiful, perfect package.
They saw the decision being made in each other’s minds and they smiled in awe of their togetherness, their total harmony of thoughts and feelings.
Starsky carefully settled the lovely head back on his chest and Hutch sighed in ecstasy, kissing him there once more. A helpless shiver passed through the compact body and feeling it, Hutch pressed lots of kisses all over the covered skin that all of a sudden, he ached to feel against his own.
Starsky wrapped his arms around his partner with a groan. He pressed the beloved head to his breast and anchored the long body to his own, not allowing one inch of separation between them.
“I’m not cold anymore,” Hutch suddenly said, burying his face in the strong chest.
“Me neither,” Starsky smiled in sweet contentment.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” the wonder in the soft voice made Starsky feel like crying at the miracle they’d accomplished, together.
“No, it doesn’t.” Starsky bent down and showered the ruffled hair with kisses. “My big blond beauty, my beautiful baby blue,” he whispered from the bottom of his heart.
Hutch let out a choked sound and snuggled up to him, wanting to crawl into his skin. “My savior, my angel, my blessing!” he exclaimed fervently.
They roamed each other’s bodies with long, unending caresses, fulfilling all the needs they were free to satisfy now.
Giving in to his heart’s needs, Starsky rolled up his T-shirt and took it off in one quick motion. Hutch moved aside, holding onto his partner’s hips, unable to give up the desperately craved for touch of the man he loved. When he was done, Starsky stared at the blond’s covered torso.
Looking deep into each other’s eyes, they reached for the buttons of Hutch’s pajama top, unfastening them gradually.
The paler than usual body still showed signs of the man’s almost tragic ordeal. Hutch had lost several pounds, and Starsky’s heart constricted with emotion. His instinct for protection kicked in fiercely, and pushing the top off the broad shoulders and dropping both useless garments onto the floor, he urged Hutch back into his arms.
The first touch of naked skin on naked skin was devastating in its intensity. Hutch rubbed his face against the softest hair he’d ever felt, nuzzling it needfully. He wondered how could such a foreign sensation – to lie his head on another man’s hairy chest – feel so right and perfect. Like coming home.
He stopped thinking. It was time to feel, not think. His partner’s arms wrapped themselves around him protectively, and Hutch felt safe, really and truly safe, for the first time in his life. Starsky’s lips kissed his forehead, encouraging him wordlessly.
Hutch closed his eyes, and with the lulling sound of his partner’s heartbeat echoing in his ears, he drifted to the most peaceful sleep he could remember. His fingertips caressed the strong chest, imprinting the feel of Starsky’s flesh into his soul forever.
Doing his best to control the feelings that Hutch’s touch was stirring, Starsky breathed one final kiss onto the soft forehead, and with a mouthed ‘I love you’ joined his soulmate in the realm of blissful sleep.
Hutch’s lips mouthed back the words, and smiling at something only they could understand, the two men found oblivion in a heavenly world that was theirs and only theirs.
THE END.
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