I Set You Free

678

Starsky and Hutch get back together after twenty years.

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Kathy I by Susan Aglukark

Close your eyes there I am
I’m right beside you
I’ll close mine and together we will dream
I heard you talk my hands were tied
I could do nothing

There was a time by the sea
We played together
But the tide washed away sweet memories
I knew the truth I heard you cry
I’m sorry

Chorus: Kathy I set you free
Ride with the spirits fly like the wind
On your journey to find your peace
In my heart you’ll always be
Kathy I set you free

Though you’re gone here I am
I’m still beside you
And the secrets that we shared are safe with me
The storm has calmed the tide has come
To set you free

Chorus

Oh death where is thy sting
Oh grave thy victory

 

Chapter One

When he came across the box buried way in the back of the storage room, he sank back on his haunches as he ran a hand over the top. He had forgotten it was here. Hadn’t thought about it in a very long time.

Over the years he could never bring himself to open it, let alone throw it out. Twenty years and suddenly the original pain and hurt was back, just as fresh and heart-rending as it had been then. He slowly picked up the small box and made his way back upstairs, setting it on the coffee table as he made himself a stiff drink.

Lost in memory, he sat down on the sofa and simply stared at the box. His whole life had changed that day, and although the years had added wisdom and understanding, he somehow still felt betrayed. So much had been lost, given up, run away from. He still didn’t really accept why it had happened, how he had let it happen.

He had been too vulnerable then, too demanding and unrealistic to know what was happening. At least that’s what he told himself. Since that day he had shut down, locked away the old life and set about creating a new one. It was a false one, he knew that deep down inside, but it was his only hope for survival. He had been cut off from what had made him whole, and he had spent the last twenty years trying to fill that void. A lifetime it seemed, and he had thought he had succeeded, until today.

Was he afraid of what was in the box? Not really. They were objects, mere symbols of his past, signposts along the road that was his life. He had lots of those.

No, what he was afraid of was the intensity of the emotion the contents of the box aroused in him. He wasn’t sure he could deal with that now, not sure if he even wanted to.

It might be better to leave the past dead and buried.

Without conscious thought he picked up the box and opened it.

Six weeks later he pulled his Jeep Cherokee to a stop beside a world-weary Ford pickup and sat contemplating the cozy ranch style house with its wide front porch and tall shade trees.

He hadn’t called ahead, or written once he had found an address. Besides, he told his cowardly side, he had no itinerary, no idea where his rambling would take him, or if he would even make it this far. He had never liked to travel much and wasn’t sure what prompted him to do so now. But it had been a healing, slow trip and as he had crept nearer to where he really wanted to be he relaxed into the confident knowledge that where he was going was home. He was going home.

Now that he was here, he was suddenly nervous and wanted nothing more than to turn back the way he had come only at a much faster pace. A silly self-aware grin lit his face as he retrieved the box from its place on the passenger side floor, and then strode purposely up to the front door.

A man he would have recognized in Times Square on New Year’s Eve opened the door several moments later.

The look the two shared shattered time as if it had never been, and he no longer doubted.

 

Chapter Two

He had awoken that morning with a faint hint of hope in his heart, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

As usual, he had awakened by instinct only with the first signs of a rising sun just appearing in the sky. He rose quickly impatient to start the day, and when he passed his dresser on the way to the bathroom he silently said ‘Mornin’ partner’ to the picture that sat there, as he had done for years. This day though, he paused and ran a gentle finger over the surface of the frame, once again assailed by a mysterious sense of anticipation. ‘Getting old, Hutchinson’ he mumbled to himself as he continued to the bathroom.

Morning cleansing done, dressed, and with the breakfast dishes cleaned and put away, he paced. For whatever reason, he felt full of nervous energy, energy that needed good old- fashioned hard labour to calm. He headed for the barn.

At this time of year, Spirit was the only horse in the barn but he didn’t require much maintenance. With all the kids back in school, and most of his neighbours still harvesting one crop or another, he was basically alone here now.

He had found this place almost 15 or 16 years ago, a small parcel of land that the Jasper family had used to house aging relatives and finally outright sold. He had been on a going-nowhere ramble that day, lost in his own world barely aware of where he was and how he had got there. He had been doing that a lot the years since he and his partner had separated, and even more so after his mother and father had been killed in a car accident. His inheritance had given him the means, his empty aching heart the need. If he was said to be at all happy the last twenty years, it would have been during his years here.

Even after his rigorous activity of cleaning stalls, stacking hay bales and giving Spirit a hearty brushing, he was still anxious and nervy. He only wished he knew why. He had gotten used to his body giving him advance notice of weather changes, but this was almost spooky. He felt like he was waiting for the unknown, and was totally unprepared.

He ended up taking a leisurely ride, just letting his mind find it’s own answers. And what popped up was his partner, and with it his guilt and remorse. Would the past never go away and let him rest? He could not escape what he had done, but he had suffered twenty years of being alone, having lost the one stabilizing factor in his life. He had survived, but not lived. It had nearly killed him to do the only thing he felt would save them both. He had not really appreciated the cost to himself at the time, his greatest concern being giving his partner back his life. To set him free.

He had just returned to the house after his ride when there was a knock on the door. Tossing the washcloth in the sink, he made his way to the front door and opened it on every dream of happiness he had ever had.

 

Chapter Three

Starsky spoke first.

“Hi ya Hutch. Was just passing by and thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

As Hutch continued to stand frozen and speechless, Starsky gathered his courage and moved into the house babbling all the way. He set the box on the coffee table.

“This sure is a hard place to find. Got lost three times trying to find it. You know your mailbox has fallen into the ditch? Makes it kinda hard to know you’re here. Nice place though. I like it. You got any animals? Got any beer?”

Starsky’s almost hysterical chatter finally broke through Hutch’s fugue. He very deliberately closed the door and with robotic preciseness moved to stand in front of Starsky. His features could have been chiselled in stone, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Hutch.”

A hand moved slowly and grasped his shoulder, shaking him slightly as if to test the reality of the image before him. Pale blue eyes closed momentarily and when they reopened, life sparked in their depths.

“It is you,” Hutch breathed.

“Yeah, its me. How ya been, Hutch?”

Hutch shook his head at Starsky’s utterly normal, stupid question. ‘How had be been?’ After all this time, Starsky was acting as if they hadn’t seen each other for a week, not twenty years.

“Oh man, I can’t believe you,” Hutch said as he almost fell rather than sat on the sofa.

What Hutch said, and Starsky heard, where two different things. In his already overactive nervous state Starsky heard rejection and disbelief as his bold unwanted appearance. He promptly buried the hurt and put on his brave face as he made his way back to the door.

“I just thought…I needed to…. Sorry. I’ll be going.”

Before he could get the door open, he was grabbed, spun and roughly pulled into a bone- crunching hug that forced the breath from him. He was almost at the point of no return before the hug eased enough for him to breath on his own, but those arms didn’t release him and he slowly relaxed into them, relishing the almost forgotten strength, comfort and love so expressive of the man who held him. God, it felt so good and he had no idea how much time had passed before they drew apart and simply looked at each other.

Both reached for the other’s face at the same time to wipe away tears that neither had noticed.

“You want a beer?” Hutch asked with a totally false sense of normality.

Starsky just nodded and followed Hutch into the kitchen, picking up the box on the way. Setting it on the kitchen table, he turned a chair and sat down, his chin resting on his arms that were folded across the chair back. Hutch retrieved two beers and took his own seat, grinning slightly at the typical Starsky pose.

Those first few minutes of silence were so wonderfully reminiscent of how it used to be that they just revelled in the instant return of their old camaraderie and comfort. Eyes scanned each other in homage to what the years had wrought, but both only saw Starsky and Hutch; saw the affection, trust and loyalty that sill existed; saw the need for answers long overdue, but no longer demanded. Time had softened the urgency and provided understanding, but the longing still remained; the longing for the friendship, the other half of the whole, and the love. It was time.

Hutch nodded at the box.

“You bring me a present?”

“Kinda, I guess. I want it back, Hutch.” Starsky’s eyes pierced right through to his soul as he said it.

Not quite understanding what Starsky meant, Hutch pulled the box to him and opened it.

 

Chapter Four

The first thing he saw sent him reeling back in time, and almost made him falter and close the box. When opened, the leather folder revealed a slightly tarnished B.C.P.D. badge; Starsky’s P.D. badge. Gentle fingers traced the words and design while waves of emotion and memories drained his colour.

They had been such good years. Years together, side-by-side, Me and Thee. Tears again clouded his vision and he quickly closed the folder placing it on the table between them. Having been prepared, he scanned each commendation, award and newspaper article that followed before placing them on the table. He was not prepared for what was in the envelope.

Pictures: pictures of him and Starsky, starting with graduation from the Academy and ending with Starsky’s “Welcome Back” party after Gunther. He had the same pictures buried in his closet, which he rarely had the courage to look at. Now, they packed a punch that left him powerless, violent sobs of loss and futility wracking his body.

Starsky just sat and let him be, knowing from his own identical reaction what a cleansing thing it was, and knowing that the final item in the box would make or break this reunion.

It took Hutch ten minutes to regain any sense of composure and he offered a silent apologetic grin to Starsky, who nodded with understanding in return.

The final item in the box chilled Hutch to the bone and started him shaking; another envelope he immediately recognized and knew the contents of by heart. His own hand had addressed it, and his own hand had written the letter it contained, the letter that had changed both their lives.

He stared in shock at Starsky, seeking permission to forget, to ask for forgiveness, comfort, anything that would take it all away. But Starsky’s steel-hard look dared him to accept and face it for the very first time up-front and personal.

Hutch realized suddenly that Starsky had already been through his own baptism of fire and survived, had come all this way to find Hutch and make him face it too. His heart swelled at the truth that lay behind his friend’s actions, and knew that he was the most blessed of men. And, he knew that he too had the same obligation to that truth and friendship. He unfolded the letter, and for both their sakes, read it aloud.

‘Starsk:

I’m sorry I’m taking the cowards way out, but by the time you get this I will be gone. I don’t know what else to do.

I’m doing this for both our sakes. I can’t go on, Starsk. I’m empty, and don’t know how to fix things. Without me you can make your life what it should be, what you want it to be. I’ve given you everything I have but somehow it wasn’t enough, and now I realize that I also took from you. Took your freedom, your future, your hope, and your ability to function as yourself. That is so selfish and egotistical, and the last few months have made me wake up and accept what I have done to you.

The one thing I always wanted for you, for us, was to hold onto the friendship, the love. We fought hard and long after Gunther, but it wasn’t until your return to work that I acknowledged how utterly blind I had been. How I clung to you, and protected you and sheltered you from everything and everybody, thereby making you doubt your own abilities, and struggle to get back what neither of us was bright enough to see was missing.

You are my dearest friend, and I treated you like a terrible two year old. Others noticed and made me realize that you were well on your way to a full meltdown, not knowing what it was you were fighting. The Chandler case drove it all home. You turned to me like a lost puppy seeking assurance and praise.

I don’t want you to end up hating me, so before that happens, I’m leaving.

You will always be a part of me, the best part, and I will never forget you. I hope you can eventually forgive me, because I will never be able to forgive myself.

Love, Hutch’

 

Chapter Five

The almost emotionless, cold tone in which Hutch read the letter told Starsky how deeply and bitterly those feelings still clung to Hutch’s soul.

“Look at me, Hutch,” he demanded.

The two wounded warriors looked at each other over the chasm the years had created, and suddenly the bridge that they had missed seeing was there, so delicately wrought as to be almost ethereal, as if it could only hold a promise and nothing more. And the promise was given in those moments of closeness that only their eyes acknowledged.

Starsky nodded and smiled with that unique Starsky smile of old, and Hutch couldn’t help but return it.

With a wave of his hand to indicate the letter Hutch still held, he said “That’s history, Hutch. We both suffered for it, and rehashing it will not change one thing. What say we take these beers out on the porch.”

Hutch quickly rose and followed Starsky. Once settled in the old chairs and enjoying long moments of silent reflection, Hutch turned to Starsky.

“What brought you here, Starsk?”

Starsky turned gentle, soft eyes on Hutch.

“Huggy came to see me about three months ago, after his Cora died. Said he wanted to see old friends before he went too. He’d already been to the Islands to visit all those cousins of his, and stopped by on the way back. Brought back a lot of old memories Hutch, good memories. Made me want to do the same thing. I told him we’d stop by soon.”

Starsky’s assured statement told him more about Starsky’s frame of mind than anything else. He was here to stay, if that’s what Hutch wanted.

“Sure, we can do that. Maybe have him out for Thanksgiving.”

The clinking of beer bottles sealed a bargain that had been written and made many years ago, and the setting sun added a glow of tranquility and artistry to the Norman Rockwell setting.