Driven Crazy

224

Hutch isn’t the only one suffering after the events of Survival. His partner is struggling with what might have happened.

 

First published 2022.

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He ran. Faster than he’d ever run in his life. Down a hillside that never seemed to end. His heart was pounding, drumming a rapid beat throughout his body and brain…and spirit.

Finally, he reached his goal – the crumpled wreck of his partner’s car. Surely, no one could have survived that? He skidded to a halt, stones and loose earth scattering either side of him. Filled with a sense of certain dread, he rounded the pile of torn and crushed metal and observed the wreck that was his partner. He fell to his knees and reached out with both hands to gently touch the pale face of his oh-so-still best friend. The skin was cold to his touch. Lifeless. He recoiled and let out a wail of anguish. He was too late.

Still crying out Hutch’s name, Starsky threw himself upwards, into wakefulness and away from the sweat covered pillow. When he wiped his hand across his face, he found it was wet with hot tears. Why? Why did he keep dreaming Hutch was dead? That he hadn’t made it in time to save his partner. Why? He wished he knew the answer. He couldn’t go on working (not even the half shifts Dobey had been letting him do) and then trying to care for his partner on little or no sleep.

Not that Hutch needed his help much anymore anyway or so he kept telling him. Starsky knew he should be glad about that. The glimmers of Hutch trying to reassert independence meant that his partner was recovered. The cast (a constant reminder of what his partner had been through) would be taken off day after tomorrow and then his partner would be back at work with Starsky, where he belonged. On light duties at first but back in the squad room. Starsky had missed seeing his face across the desk from his, even for the few hours he’d been in. It didn’t feel right being at work without his partner.

Hutch not needing or wanting his help was a good thing. It meant things were getting back to normal. So why did he feel like he was going to wake up and find life was the dream and the nightmare was the reality? He felt like he was going crazy.

*****

“And then I thought if you direct me, I could clean out your cupboards if they need doing? Then we could go to the park or the beach, anywhere you like. Then we’ll come back and I’ll cook dinner and we could-”

“-Starsky! You’re driving me crazy! Just go on home and leave me to it!”

“But-”

“-But nothing! Go! I keep telling you, I don’t need you here anymore! I am able to look after myself and I just want some peace and quiet. Your incessant talking is going to kill me.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Hutch knew it as soon as he heard it come out of his mouth – knew it even before he saw the stricken look on his partner’s face – but by then it was too late.

A look of anguish was quickly covered up by annoyance as Starsky growled, “Fine,” slammed the drawer shut (where he’d just placed Hutch’s neatly folded clothes) and stomped out of Hutch’s bedroom.

Hutch could hear the sounds of his friend gathering up his ‘staying-over-because-my-partner-needs-care’ belongings and then shoving them haphazardly into his small suitcase, cursing when they didn’t quite fit. There were the sounds of frustrated effort as he finally got the case closed. Hutch sighed as struggled to get out of bed. It took ages. The cast weighed a ton and made manoeuvring difficult. By the time he made it to the living room, Starsky was headed out of the door.

“Starsk. I’m-”

“-I’ll see ya tomorrow…Or the day after when I pick you up for your appointment.” Starsky took a step out of the door then paused, saying over his shoulder, “There’s one of Edith’s casseroles in the stove. Plenty of food in the fridge. You need anything…you know where I am.”

Then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. Hutch had half expected Starsky to slam it shut…somehow the soft snick of the snub was much more worrying, like both Starsky and the door were upset with him.

*****

The phone was ringing. It was three in the morning. Hutch cursed as he swung his legs out of bed, grabbed his crutches and hopped across the apartment. He half expected the ringing to stop before he got there but it didn’t. He grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey, my brother, I got Curly here. He’s in no fit state to drive anywhere. I’d pour him into a cab but I don’t think he should be on his own. Ya dig?”

“I get you, Hug. Can you bring him here? I’d come get him if I could…”

“Yeah, I can do that. We’ll be on the move shortly. Put some coffee on, lots of coffee.”

Then Huggy was gone and Hutch was left wondering what had gotten into his partner. He found himself feeling guilty as he remembered their disagreement yesterday. But that couldn’t have made Starsky upset enough to get blind drunk, surely?

He’d realised Starsky was really cross with him when he’d stayed away all day, hadn’t even given his partner a call to check he was doing okay, but he’d figured Starsky would have been glad of the day off, glad to know Hutch really was on the mend and that his appointment to have his cast taken off was just a formality.

Hutch hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful the last few days. Starsky had done a great job of looking after him. He’d fetched and carried, cooked meals, helped his partner to the bathroom during the first week of recuperation when Hutch was too sore to travel far on his own, plumped pillows, watered Hutch’s plants, read him interesting articles from the newspaper, in short done everything he could to aid his partner’s recovery.

Hutch had been very grateful initially. He had just started getting irritated because he missed his own space, missed the quiet of tending to his plants and his playing his music. Starsky’s mother hen routine had been okay the first couple of weeks but now he was almost better, it was grating on him and he was having trouble hiding it.

Hutch had become aware over the last couple of nights that his partner hadn’t been sleeping well. Maybe it had been even longer than that? Maybe it was just that now Hutch was no longer taking painkillers, he was finally noticing how his best friend looked tired a lot of the time and seemed to be experiencing nightmares in the middle of the night. What was going on in that dark curly-haired head? This was one of those rare times he had no idea what Starsky was thinking or feeling.

*****

Hutch heard the pair of them before they knocked. Starsky was muttering quite loudly and Huggy was trying to shush him so as not to wake Hutch’s neighbours. As he went to open the door, Hutch heard Starsky say, “Not wanted here. Take me home.”

Swallowing hard and placing what he hoped was a welcoming smile on his face, Hutch opened the door.

“Hey pal. Come on in. I’ve got the coffee on.”

“Don’t want coffee.”

“Sure you do,” Huggy soothed.

He gently directing his severely weaving friend over to Hutch’s kitchen table and got him settled on a chair. Hutch hobbled along behind, leant up against the counter and poured out a strong black coffee. Huggy grabbed the mug from Hutch and placed it down in front of Starsky.

“Drink it, amigo. You’ll feel better.”

Starsky looked unconvinced as Hutch also urged his partner to drink the coffee. Starsky peered at him in confusion.

“Hutch?”

“Yeah.”

“Nutthin.”

Starsky took a sip of the coffee and then another. Huggy breathed a sigh of relief and started towards the door. Hutch followed him at a slower pace.

At the door, Huggy stopped and turned. “Go easy on him, Hutch. The few times he’s come into my place without you, he’s looked…haunted. Something’s eating away at him, man.”

“Yeah, I know, but what?”

Huggy looked thoughtful and then said softly. “I hadn’t remembered this till now but the day you had your accident, I told Starsky there was hit out on a cop, that it might already have happened…Well, he turned the colour of a ghost, like I’d told him you were dead already. Never seen him that shaken before. Maybe that’s got something to do with it?”

Hutch felt something inside his mind click into place. He patted Huggy’s arm. “Thanks Hug. That makes a lot of sense.”

“Take care of him. I hate to see him down like this.”

“I will. I promise.”

Thoughtfully, Hutch closed the door and turned to gaze across the living room at his slowly sobering up partner. He had his head down as he stared morosely into his half-drunk mug of coffee.

Clearly, they needed to talk about what had happened, about his car being forced off the road and his fight for survival until Starsky could find him. Hutch had thought they’d done all their talking in the hospital, both verbal and non-verbal. They’d both been grateful that Hutch was alive – showing that with touches and looks that only they understood.

Hutch’s initial recovery had been touch and go to start with and Hutch was aware that, as he’d come to expect and rely on, Starsky had been with him every step of the way. Close by his side – well as much as the doctors and nurses would allow – and that his partner hadn’t left him since he’d been allowed home, except to go to work for a few hours at Dobey’s insistence.

But thinking about it now, Hutch could recall seeing Starsky looking relieved on more than one occasion; relieved to see Hutch alive and well when he walked back through the door of the Venice Place apartment. Almost as if he half expected him not to be there.

Maybe that’s what Starsky’s disturbed nights were about? Well, he’d never know if he didn’t ask. Sober, Starsky wouldn’t want to get soapy. Drunk, he wouldn’t make much sense. Maybe this in between state was the perfect time to ask his friend what was going on.

As if reading his thoughts, Starsky’s head popped up and he looked across the room at him, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. Using his crutches, Hutch walked over to the kitchen table and eased himself onto the chair opposite.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Starsky half-snorted. “Stupid. Gonna have a big hangover tomorrow…Sorry for disturbing your sleep. I didn’t mean ta.”

Hutch shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been getting way too much rest recently.”

This time Starsky fully snorted.

“What’s going on with you, Starsk? Why are you not sleeping properly?”

Starsky looked away. “Who says I’m not sleeping properly?”

“Me. I got ears, dummy. And eyes. You looked wrecked.”

Starsky winced at his partner’s choice of words.

Hutch noticed and decided to keep pressing. “Are you dreaming about the accident?”

“It wasn’t no accident!” Starsky muttered grimly. “It was a hit.”

“Yeah, it was. I’m lucky I’m alive. I know that. If you hadn’t found me…”

Abruptly, Starsky stood up, causing his chair to fall over and hit the floor with a bang.

“I gotta go, Hutch. I’ll see ya tomorrow. I mean today, I guess. In a few hours anyway.”

Hutch was on his feet as quickly as he could be, calling to his partner as he tried to follow him on his crutches. “Starsk, don’t go. Please. I’m worried about you.”

Starsky had got to the door and had his hand on the handle but he paused, hesitating. Then he leaned his head wearily against the door. Hutch caught up with him and tentatively placed a hand on his friends’ slumped shoulder.

“Starsk?”

Slowly, Starsky turned around to face him, his eyes filling with tears. He shook his head at Hutch and then slid down the door to the floor, burying his head in his hands above bent knees. Hutch considered how to get closer to his upset partner. He dropped his crutches, placed his back against the door frame and slid awkwardly down until he was next to him. His not so white casted leg stuck out awkwardly in front of him.

“Hey.” He gently placed a hand on Starsky’s curly hair. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Starsky lifted his head and tried to wipe his tears away. “I thought you were dead, Hutch. I thought I wouldn’t find you in time. I nearly didn’t. I should’ve listened to Sonny when he came to the precinct but I didn’t, nearly cost you your life.”

“But you did find me, you did listen to Sonny and you got him to tell you where I was. No-one else would have managed that, partner. I knew I just had to hold on till you got there. I knew you would find me.”

Starsky swallowed down overwhelming emotion as tears began to fall down his face in earnest. “I keep dreaming I get there too late. When I touch your face….your skin’s cold. I’m too late and you’re dead.”

“Aww, come here.” Hutch put his arm around his partner until his hand was on the other side of him and he could pull his head close enough to rest on his shoulder. He just held him while his friend cried out all his fears and sorrows.

After a while, Hutch observed, “Sometimes I think this ‘me and thee’ thing is a curse.”

Starsky wiped his face and sat up a little straighter, looking at his partner quizzically. “Why would you say that? That’s how I found you.”

“Yeah, I know, but you go through something, it’s like I go through it too. I go through something, it affects you too. I’m sorry, Starsk. I’m sorry I didn’t realise the shock you must have had hearing from Huggy that there’d been a hit out on me…and then finding me like that.”

Starsky nodded. “’S’okay…If shock and a few nightmares is the flip side to ‘me and thee’, I can live with it.”

Hutch nodded. “Me too.”

They grinned at each other. Starsky hopped to his feet and looked down at Hutch as his friend contemplated how he was going to get up from the floor.

“Want a hand?” Starsky asked.

“Yes, please.”

Starsky hauled his friend to his feet and steadied him until he’d got his crutches back in hand.

“You might as well sleep on the couch,” Hutch said. “We gotta be up in five hours to get to my appointment on time.”

Starsky nodded. “Okay…Bet you’ll be glad to get that cast off. Gotta be a constant reminder of what happened.”

Hutch stared down at his leg. “I guess…but maybe it’s been more of a problem for you? Has it?”

“Yeah, I guess I will be glad to see the back of it. It reminds me how close we came…”

“Still here, pal, thanks to you. I’m not going anywhere. All right?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Hutch.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep…and try not to snore, will you? It’s driving me crazy!”

Starsky grinned at him. “I’ll try but I can’t promise.”

Hutch pretended to cuff his friend’s ear before heading back to bed. Soon, there was the sound of gentle snoring coming from both of them.