The Sweetest Sound

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Starsky makes his first appearance in public after the shooting.

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“For God’s sake, Starsky, what are you doing in there?” Hutch, jacket slung over his arm, paced outside his partner’s bathroom door.

“All right. All right, already. Jeez, hang on a second, huh? I’ll be right out.” Starsky opened the door as he stood in the mirror and ran a wide-toothed comb through his dark curls.

Hutch stopped pacing and stood in the doorway. “We’re gonna be late!”

“So we’re a little late. It’s fashionable.”

“It’s rude.”

Starsky licked his finger and smoothed one particularly unruly curl behind his ear. Satisfied it would stay put, he smiled and faced his partner. “OK. I’m done. Let’s go.”

“Finally.” Hutch rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, heading for the door. He grabbed Starsky’s new brown leather jacket as he passed the coat rack and slung it at him. The jacket hit Starsky in the face and the curl he’d been fighting with for so long freed itself from his ear, poking him in the eye. The brunette swatted at the curl and sighed in frustration as he brushed past his snickering friend, who held the door open for him.

Hutch patiently remained a few steps behind as Starsky slowly descended the stairs. He made his way over to the driver’s side of his “new” blue Chevy Impala before Starsky and pulled heavily on the stuck door, thinking to himself he should really get it fixed.

“Hey,” Starsky called out softly as he approached the car and gripped the passenger door handle.

Hutch, halfway in the car, shot an exasperated look at his partner over the peeling vinyl roof. “What now?” he sighed.

“How do I look?” A faint smile was visible on Starsky’s lips as his nervous violet-blue eyes locked with Hutch’s.

The blond softened his expression, detecting the slight tremor in his partner’s voice. “You look terrific, buddy,” he smiled back and offered a reassuring nod. “Just terrific.”

The smile widened and Starsky broke eye contact, looking down at his reflection in the car window. “I do, don’t I?”

Hutch watched the brunette preen in the window and tug at the wayward curl. Swallowing the lump that had unexpectedly formed in his throat, he managed to bark a short “Would you please,” before climbing all the way in the car and pulling the stubborn door shut.

“All right. All right.” Starsky opened his door and maneuvered himself gingerly into the passenger seat.

“Can you believe 30 years on the force?”

“Mm.” Hutch waited as Starsky pulled his door shut, then eased onto the street. “Sid’s a good cop. Gonna miss him.”

“Yeah, me, too. Think everyone will be at the party?”

“Everyone that I talked to planned on being there.”

“Terrific.” Starsky grunted as he tossed his jacket into the back seat.

Hutch gave his passenger’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Starsk, it’s going to be fine.”

“I know that,” Starsky sighed and began drumming his fingers on the door handle. “I just don’t want everyone staring at me like I’m some kind of freak or something.”

“Well, you are a freak.” Hutch tugged once more at the knee and returned his hand to the steering wheel.

“Thanks.”

Hutch shifted his eyes briefly in Starsky’s direction, then back on the road. “Look, no one is going to stare at you. They’re all going to be really happy to see you and they’re going to show concern. You’ve got to expect that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If you get too uncomfortable, we’ll just politely leave, OK?”

Starsky scratched at his cheek and sighed. “Yeah. Then everyone will think that I can’t cut the mustard anymore.”

“It’s only been two weeks since you’ve been out of the hospital, buddy. No one expects you to party into the wee hours of the morning.”

“Hutch, that’s exactly what everyone expects. I always used to party into the wee hours of the morning. Everyone knows that. Everyone’s seen it.”

Hutch shook his head. “You used to have a complete set of intestines, too.” The car pulled to a stop at a busy intersection and Hutch turned to face his sulking passenger. “Do you want to not go? We don’t have to, you know. We can just tell Sid…”

“No, no,” Starsky interrupted and shook his head. “I want to go. I’ve got to face them all sometime.” He shrugged. “I’m just-I’m kind of nervous, I guess.”

“I know. I know.” Hutch smiled and returned his hand to Starsky’s knee. “Trust me, it’s going to be fine. And I’ll be right there.”

Starsky patted the hand on his knee and narrowed is eyes. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

“Watch it, chump.”

The blue Impala turned into the crowded driveway of Dusty’s Bar and Grille where the party room had been reserved for Lieutenant Sid Johnson’s retirement party. Hutch had made the reservation himself exactly three hours before his partner and best friend of several years had been gunned down in the Bay City Police Department parking garage in District 9. Little thought had been given to the party, or to much else for that matter, in the two months that followed, with Hutch devoting the majority of his attention to his healing partner. He had practically become a permanent fixture of County General Hospital’s third floor for the month and a half that Starsky spent recovering from the massive damage caused by the gunshot wounds, and now was living temporarily with his best friend to assist him in getting his life back in order. Hutch pulled the car into a parking space as close to the restaurant entrance as he could find and turned off the ignition.

“Are you ready?” he asked, turning a worried look at Starsky.

“Guess so.” Starsky subconsciously ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath as he reached for the door handle. His partner’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from opening the door, and he turned to face the blond’s concerned gaze.

“What?”

“Just a few things.”

Starsky rolled his eyes and sighed, looking away. “Oh, boy. Here we go. I knew it.”

“I’m serious, Starsky. Listen to me.”

“What?”

Hutch took in a deep breath. “I know you, and I know you’re going to go in there and try to prove to everyone that you’re 100 percent. But, truth is, buddy, you’re not 100 percent. Everyone knows that. There’s no need to pretend you are.”

“Hutch…”

Hutch waved off the interruption. “No, now listen to me. I don’t want you to overdo it. Take it easy. If you get tired, sit down. If you feel like you need to go, you let me know. We’ll leave.”

There was silence in the car as Starsky slowly shook his head while Hutch stared at him intently.

“Hutch, I’m not stupid.” The silence was broken.

“I know that. I know. You’re just stubborn and too damn proud. Now promise me.”

“All right,” Starsky shrugged and reached for the door handle. Once again, the hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Hutch smiled at the exasperated look he received. “Uh, just one more thing.”

“What?”

“Food.”

“Food?” Starsky’s eyebrows rose.

Hutch nodded. “Yes, food. Take it easy in there, huh? No salsa, no pepper-jack cheese, no mini tostadas. Nothing that’s going to cause fire to shoot out of your ass.”

If he hadn’t have been so irritated, Starsky would have found that last comment humorous. “Hutch, I’m not on any kind of restrictive diet. The doctor wants me to eat, put back on some of the weight I lost,” he reasoned.

Starsky’s logic was not going to work on Hutch this time. “Yes, but, Starsk, you’ve got to be sensible. Look, there’ll be vegetables and sandwiches, fruit—stuff that’s good for you. And absolutely no booze. Understand?”

Starsky blinked and bit his lip, debating whether this was worth having an argument over or not. Deciding it wasn’t, he finally sighed and slumped back in the seat in defeat. “Yes, Dr. Hutchinson,” he said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Figures.”

A loving smile lit Hutch’s face and his hand returned to Starsky’s shoulder. “Relax and enjoy yourself, buddy. You deserve it.”

The two sat for a brief moment, looking at each other, Starsky returning the smile. He hesitantly reached for the door handle for the third time, anticipating another interruption. When he heard Hutch’s door finally open and felt his weight lift from the car, he decided the lecture was over and tugged on his own handle.

“Don’t know how I’m supposed to do that. Nothing good to eat, no beer, gotta sit down…” he groused quietly to himself as he eased his way out of the car.

“What?” Hutch slammed his door shut.

“Nothing. Nothing. Let’s just go in.” Starsky closed his door as well and began walking toward the restaurant, Hutch following.

“You’re only complaining because you know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Starsky waved his hand in the air, making sure a certain finger was a little more extended than the rest.

“Unh, unh, unh. Watch that.” Hutch chuckled as the offending finger slipped back into its proper place.

The twosome could hear the sounds of the party as they approached the entrance. Starsky paused as he reached for the door handle, looking back over his shoulder. Hutch smiled and nodded his head toward the door. “Go ahead,” he softly whispered. Offering his own faint smile, Starsky nodded as well and faced the door. He took one last look at himself in the pane of glass in the door and tucked the rebel curl behind his ear. Slinging his shoulders back and jutting out his chin, he slowly pulled the door open, holding it for Hutch to go in first.

The party was in full swing as the partners entered the restaurant unnoticed. Starsky stood in the entryway behind Hutch, his eyes taking inventory of the crowd. Hutch reached behind Starsky and placed his hand on his back, taking note of the tension he felt there, and pointed him toward the guest book. Starsky stepped over to the book, a nervous tremor visible in his hand as he signed his name.

“Starsky!” Sid Johnson’s shout startled him, causing the pen he was handing to Hutch to go tumbling to the floor.

Starsky began to bend over to pick it up, but Hutch stopped him with his hand and scooched down to retrieve it. “Sorry,” Starsky mouthed, then bit his lip and turned his head sharply in Sid’s direction. “Hiya, Sid,” he said nervously.

“Starsky! My God! Look at you!” The portly older man extended his hand as he approached him.

“Happy retirement.” Starsky took the offered hand and shook it slowly.

“Aww, never mind that, kid. Look at you!” Sid held on to Starsky’s hand and gently patted him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, look at me.” Starsky looked down at himself, letting go of Sid’s hand and fidgeting with a button on his denim shirt.

“You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

“No, I mean, YOU look GREAT!” Sid gave Starsky’s shoulder a tight squeeze.

“Hey, Sid.” Hutch replaced the pen in its holder and stepped forward.

“Hutch!” Sid turned his attention to the blond, grabbing his hand in a firm shake.

“Happy retirement.”

“Aw, thanks. Hey, that partner of yours looks great, doesn’t he?”

Hutch glanced in his partner’s direction and saw him still fidgeting with the button with one hand and tugging at the stubborn curl with the other. “Oh, come on, Sid,” he said, “Don’t do that, huh? He’s got a big enough ego already.”

“Always was too big for his britches.” Sid laughed and turned back to Starsky. “How you feeling anyway?”

Starsky didn’t hear the question, his hands busy with the shirt and curl and his eyes busy scanning the crowd.

“Starsk?” Hutch touched his partner’s shoulder lightly.

“Huh?” Starsky jerked his head back and his eyes darted between Hutch and Sid.

“Sid asked how you’re feeling.”

An embarrassed look tinged Starsky’s features. “Oh, sorry. I was just… I’m good, Sid. Real good.”

“Yeah?” Sid raised his bushy gray eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Starsky regained his composure and straightened his frame, letting his hands drop to his sides. “Yeah. I’m doing all right, really.”

Sid smiled and returned his hand to Starsky’s shoulder. “Good. Good. You had us all worried there for a while, kiddo. Glad to see you’re back.”

“Well, it’s good to be back.”

“I’ll bet it is.” Sid looked back at Hutch and nodded in the direction of the party. “I’m glad you two could make it. Come in.”

“All right.” Hutch nodded and followed as Sid’s hand remained on Starsky’s shoulder, guiding him toward the crowd.

“Hey, Barry, look who’s here!” Sid called out.

Sid’s partner of 22 years, Barry Fenmore, a slender middle-aged man with thinning red hair, turned away from the group of men he was talking to. “Starsky!” he yelled as a broad smile overtook his boyish face. He turned back to the crowd. “Look, everyone-look who’s here!”

Silence fell over the crowd as all eyes turned to the threesome. Hutch watched as Starsky’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He rested his hand between Starsky’s shoulder blades and Sid’s grip on his shoulder tightened, the two of them gently maneuvering him toward the onlookers.

“Hey, Starsky,” Barry said softly, stepping forward and resting his hand on Starsky’s upper arm.

“Hi, Barry.” Starsky’s voice was equally as soft.

“Good to see you.”

Starsky looked past Barry and his eyes once again scanned the familiar, smiling faces of his co-workers. None of the pity he had feared he would see was visible. Instead he saw genuine concern and fondness in each of the sets of eyes that stared back at him. He turned his attention back to Barry and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s good to be seen,” he said, louder this time, a lopsided grin forming on his lips.

Hutch let out a small sigh of relief as he felt some of the tension in Starsky’s shoulders subside. Only then did he realize he had been clenching his own jaw, and forced the tightened muscles to relax as he smiled proudly over Starsky’s shoulder. Soon a flood of people surrounded Starsky, each shaking his hand and smiling, offering a warm welcome. Hutch tried to remain as close to his partner as he could, but found himself being crowded out of the way by the well-wishers. Taking one last look at Starsky to make sure he really was OK, he put his hands in his pockets and stepped out of the crowd. He stood back and watched as Starsky smiled and shook hands with every one, looking just like a movie star greeting his public at a grand premiere. All that was missing were dark sunglasses and flashing camera bulbs.

“Look who’s all of a sudden the belle of the ball.” A gruff voice from behind startled Hutch out of his thoughts. He turned to face a smiling Captain Dobey.

“Yeah.” Hutch nodded and looked back at the crowd.

“He’s OK?”

“You have to ask? Just look at him.”

“Eating it up.” Dobey snorted.

“That’s Starsky.” Hutch smiled as he caught his partner’s eye for a brief second. Starsky smiled back, blindly swatting at the ornery curl, and then returned his attention to his adoring fans.

Three hours later and the party was still going full force. Mass quantities of food and alcohol had been consumed, the farewell speeches to Sid had been made, his retirement presents handed out, and now Metro’s finest were violating the dance floor with moves to put the Village People to shame. Hutch stood outside of the dance floor, scanning the room full of gyrating bodies for his partner. They had spent the majority of the evening separated, but Hutch was aware of Starsky’s whereabouts at all times. Earlier he’d caught him sneaking a chicken wing or two off the buffet bar and shot him a look his mother would have been proud of. Starsky, obviously having lots of experience in receiving that look, could sense he was being watched and guiltily relinquished the chicken wings, cursing under his breath and vowing one day he would eat an entire bucket of them while Hutch was tied to a chair, bound and gagged, able to do nothing but watch in absolute horror.

“Looking for someone to dance with?” Minnie asked as she maneuvered her way off the dance floor, followed by a young patrolman making a beeline for the bathroom. “Travolta there is petering out on me.”

“Afraid not, Min. I’m looking for Starsk. You seen him?”

“He’s over there, honey,” she answered, pointing across the room to a table full of people engaged heavily in conversation.

“Oh, yeah, there he is.” Hutch shifted on his tiptoes to see over the crowd.

“Gonna leave soon, huh?”

“I think maybe. He looks tired.”

Minnie leaned in closer to Hutch and looped her arm in his. “Honey, that partner of yours looks absolutely gorgeous, no matter what. You’re right, though, he does look a little tired.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“You worry about him too much, baby.” She said as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“Can’t help it, Minnie. It’s my job.” He shrugged and looked down at her.

“Uh-huh, your job. Sure. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, he’s not leaving without a big kiss from me. ”

The two began to walk across the room arm in arm, approaching the crowded table where Starsky sat, flirting with a redhead Hutch didn’t recognize. Hutch noted Starsky’s unusually subdued demeanor, especially for talking with a pretty woman. As they got closer he was able to make out dark circles beginning to form under his partner’s tired eyes. Even the bothersome curl had gone limp, simply hanging down the side of his face. ‘Definitely time to go,’ Hutch thought to himself.

Suddenly, just as Hutch was about to call out Starsky’s name to get his attention, Starsky threw back his head and laughed heartily at something the redhead said. The sound echoed across the room, even over the loud music, and an unexpected chill ran through Hutch. He stopped dead in the middle of the floor, yanking the still attached Minnie back a few steps.

“Hutch? Honey, what is it?” Minnie asked, gazing up at the stunned blond. When she got no answer, she gently shook his arm. “Hutch?”

Hutch shook his head and looked down at the confused face staring up at him. “Nothing. I–nothing.”

“You OK?”

Hutch blinked. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK. I just…” his voice trailed off as he looked back in Starsky’s direction.

“Hutch?”

“Dropkick Me, Jesus, Through the Goal Posts of Life.” Hutch murmured, still looking straight ahead.

Minnie cocked her head. “What?”

“It’s a song.”

“What?”

Hutch looked back down at her. “Dropkick Me, Jesus, Through the Goal Posts of Life.”

Minnie blinked her eyes rapidly and reached up and touched Hutch’s cheek. “OK, honey, you’re scaring me. Do you need to sit down?”

Suddenly a big grin formed on Hutch’s face. “No. No. No, I’m fine, Minnie. I just–his laugh…”

“Whose laugh? Starsky’s?”

“Yeah, Starsky’s.”

“Hutch, what in the heck are you talking about?”

Hutch, still smiling, freed his arm from Minnie’s and clasped her hand in both of his. “It was the day–the day Starsky got–the day he–we were playing ping-pong and a stupid trivia game. Trying to name titles of old country songs. He won the ping-pong game, but I won the trivia part. When we were walking to the car, right before–well, in the stairwell, he came out with that title. ‘Dropkick Me, Jesus, Through the Goal Posts of Life.'” Hutch looked up at the ceiling then back down at Minnie, his eyes glistening with tears despite the smile. “I told him he was making it up. And we laughed. He laughed–THAT laugh. The laugh we just heard.”

“Hutch…” Minnie placed her free hand over Hutch’s.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that since that day.” A lone tear streaked down the blond’s face.

“You OK, honey?” Minnie asked, reaching up to brush the tear away.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah, Minnie. I’m–I’m fine.” Hutch nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s good, really. I just–you know, for a while there I didn’t think I’d ever hear him laugh again. And now…”

Tears formed in Minnie’s eyes as she pulled Hutch into an embrace. “Aw, honey,” she breathed into his ear.

Hutch gave the petite woman a slight squeeze, and then pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. “It’s just–I guess I never realized how much I missed it. Not until just now. His laugh…”

“Sweet, huh?”

“Yeah. Sweet.” Hutch nodded.

“You’re pretty sweet yourself, handsome.” Minnie said, wiping at her eyes. “He’s lucky to have you, you know.”

“Yeah, well, tell HIM that.” Hutch chuffed and nodded in Starsky’s direction, noticing that Starsky had turned in his chair and was looking questioningly at them.

Minnie looked in Starsky’s direction as well. “He knows, honey. He knows,” she said, patting Hutch’s hand and smiling.

Starsky grimaced slightly as he slowly stood from the chair. His grimace quickly turned into a charming smile as he said goodbye to the redhead, gallantly taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss just past her knuckles. The redhead smiled shyly and watched as Starsky walked away.

“What’s going on over here, you two?” Starsky asked, his voice fatigued, as he approached them and slung his arm around Minnie.

“Where’s it written you’re the only one who can make time with a pretty girl tonight, huh?” Hutch put his arm around Minnie as well and pulled her closer.

“Oh, now, come on, you two,” she said, looking between them. “Don’t fight over me. You know I love you both.”

“Mm-hmm,” Starsky mumbled and pulled her back to him, kissing her softly in the dark hair.

“Mm-hmm yourself.” Minnie freed her shoulder from Hutch’s embrace and wrapped both arms around Starsky. “It was so good to see you tonight, honey. You’re looking good–as usual.”

“Thanks, Min.” Starsky returned the embrace and stuck his tongue out at Hutch.

“Hey, hey, quit hogging her.” Hutch pried her away from Starsky and placed a soft kiss on her temple, whispering a quiet “Thank you” in her ear.

Minnie smiled at them both. “Ooh, there’s my date,” she said as she darted off. “You two take care of each other,” she called over her shoulder as she grabbed the young patrolman by the arm.

Starsky and Hutch watched as she pulled the man out onto the floor and soon disappeared in the sea of dancers.

Starsky turned his attention back to Hutch, knowing something had just transpired between the two. “You OK?” he asked.

Hutch looked back into his partner’s tired eyes. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been saying it too much lately. Thought I’d give it a try. What’s going on?”

Hutch smiled haphazardly and placed his hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going on, Starsk. I’m fine. I’m just tired and… I’m fine. Look, let’s call it a night, huh?”

Starsky stared quizzically at Hutch for a moment, his eyes roaming the blond’s face. “Yeah, OK,” he finally said, nodding.

The two made their rounds, saying goodbye to everyone, and left as quietly as they came. The ride home was a silent one, with Starsky dozing against the passenger door.

“We’re home, buddy,” Hutch said softly as the car came to a stop in Starsky’s driveway.

“Already?” Starsky blinked and looked around. “Huh. Musta fallen asleep.”

“Must have.” Hutch smiled and began to get out of the car, carefully watching as Starsky pushed wearily with his shoulder on the heavy door.

“Got it OK?” Hutch asked as he bounded over to Starsky’s side of the car.

“Damn door, ” Starsky grunted as he stepped out of the car. The door didn’t close completely when he pushed it shut, and he jerked angrily at the handle to reopen it.

Hutch reached for the door handle. “I’ve got it, Starsk. Go upstairs.”

“I think I’m capable of closing the frigging door.” Starsky motioned Hutch away and shut the door again, the second attempt to get it to latch less effective than the first. He leaned heavily on the door, trying to force it shut with his weight. “When are you ever gonna get a decent car, huh?” he sputtered, his voice wrought with fatigue.

“Starsk, I’ve got it.” Hutch placed his hand over Starsky’s.

Starsky closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath as he let go of the door handle. “Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away, heading for the stairs.

When they entered the apartment, Starsky hung up his jacket and quietly slipped into the bathroom. Hutch could hear the shuffling of pill bottles in the medicine cabinet as he stood in the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He knew Starsky was secretly taking a pain pill, something he hadn’t needed to do in days. After a few moments, Starsky emerged from the bathroom, managed a forced smile and a quick goodnight, and padded off to his bedroom. A half an hour later, empty milk-stained glass sitting across from him on the coffee table, Hutch found himself still awake, sitting on the couch and thinking about the myriad of emotions he’d witnessed Starsky go through during the course of the evening.

Over the years he’d seen Starsky run down alleys and spring though doors, chasing hardened criminals, not knowing what kind of danger lay in wait for him. But never, in all those times, had he seen the kind of fear on his partner’s face as he saw tonight when they entered that restaurant. The thought of facing people he’d been completely comfortable with just a few short months ago had terrified him. But he did it. He stood proud and tall, swallowed his fear, and did it. Starsky’s bravery had always amazed Hutch, and tonight was no exception.

Hutch snickered as he thought about how quickly that fear subsided, however, and Starsky basked in the glow of being the center of attention. So childlike, so incorrigible, so Starsky. But then the evening had ended with the small display of anger and frustration because the simple party had worn him down, bringing to light the fact that there was still so much healing to do, both physically and mentally. It was a long road ahead, no question. But they’d traveled down long roads together before and had come out perfectly fine. Hutch had little doubt this would be any different.

Hutch stood from the couch and removed the cushions, then slid the coffee table out of the way and yanked at the pullout bed. Pulling the covers back and fluffing the pillows, he sighed as he thought about another night sleeping on the makeshift bed, being able to feel every bar of the iron frame poking through the thin mattress. He glanced over his shoulder, then made his way toward the doorway of Starsky’s bedroom to complete his nightly ritual of turning off the lights and peering in at his sleeping partner. He leaned his head in the doorway, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sounds of even, deep breaths wafted across the room, confirming that Starsky had fallen into a peaceful, exhausted sleep.

A smile tugged at the blond’s lips as he watched the sleeping form, a blanket pulled just up past his nose so that only his tightly closed eyes and hair were visible. A lone curl jutted out over the edge of the blanket, straying from the rest of the dark tendrils in total defiance. Hutch remained in the doorway, watching as the stubborn and independent curl bobbed with each precious breath his partner took. For the second time that evening, he marveled at such a simple yet sweet sound and thanked God for its existence. Yes, Starsky was going to be just fine… they both were.

The End