Nevermore

96

Post Sweet Revenge: The love is still there, but the damage Starsky suffered has both partners thinking Starsky is too fragile to be an effective backup on the streets. Starsky transfers, trying to re-cover his self-confidence, but it changes the life plans they’d made together and Hutch tries to fix them.

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“I’m sorry.”

It was a quiet apology, softly whispered instead of the “night, babe” he used to say before going to sleep after making love. He rolled to his side, away from his lover and buried his face in his pillow.

He missed the way it used to be, making love in the light, freely touching naked skin, spooning together afterward. Lovemaking now was done in the dark, with furtive touches on covered skin and careful separation when it was finished.

“Why do you say that? Sorry for what?” The sleepy voice sounded faintly annoyed, as though it had heard the apology too many times and didn’t believe it this time either.

“Shhh…go to sleep, Hutch. It’s not you.”

It was late and he was tired, but he didn’t sleep. He lay quietly so Hutch could, thinking about changes the past months had brought. Wishing he could fix things. Knowing he couldn’t. He stifled the sob that threatened to escape.

“What’s wrong, Starsk?”

The question was sincere, but there were no reassuring touches behind the concern and that only reinforced his need to say it.

“I’m okay, Hutch. Go back to sleep.”

“It’s late. I need to go.” Hutch sat up and yawned, then reached for his clothes. “I have court in the morning.”

Court was an excuse given to him because he was awake. Hutch would have been gone before sunup regardless.

“Then I’ll see you when I see you. Bye, Hutch.” He curled around his pillow and closed his eyes. But Hutch was long gone before he relaxed enough to rest.

* * * *

A week later, Hutch showed up with pizza and a six pack. “Happy Birthday, Starsky.”

But he blocked the doorway and didn’t let Hutch in. “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten and I’m on my way out.”

“Where to?”

He looked at Hutch and snorted. “Who are you? My mother?” The stunned expression on Hutch’s face told him Hutch didn’t have a clue there was a problem. He sighed. “I’m going to my last physical therapy appointment.”

“I’ll go with—”

“I’m swimming laps in a pool and I don’t want to wear a shirt.” He closed the door in Hutch’s face and went to grab his gym bag.

* * * *

Hutch was asleep on the sofa when Starsky got home. He’d let himself in and there was cold pizza and warm beer sitting on the coffee table. Starsky ignored him and went to bed.

The next morning, he found Hutch eating pizza. “What are you doing here?”

“I told ya. I came to celebrate your birthday. I brought you a present.”

“And I told you I had plans. For the record, I don’t celebrate that anymore.” He glared at Hutch. “You had no right to let yourself in. This is my place. You need to go.”

“But—” Hutch held up the spare key Starsky had given him.

“The key was for emergencies. This wasn’t.”

“We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” He looked at Hutch impassively. “Leave my key, take your beer and let yourself out.”

“Starsky!”

Hutch grabbed and kissed him as he went to open the door.

He pushed Hutch away. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

“I don’t understand! What’s going on, Starsk?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Hutch. I’m putting an end to it. To us.” He took a breath to calm down, then gestured to the door. “Do yourself a favour. Just go and don’t come back.”

“Not until we talk! What’s wrong with you?”

“You tell me!” Starsky pulled his t-shirt off and bared his chest. Scars from bullets and subsequent surgeries marred his torso, front and back, and he wasn’t surprised when Hutch looked away. “You can’t stand the sight of them.

“Before I was shot, we talked about getting a place together. It doesn’t come up anymore. We used to have fun showering together at your place. Hell, I can’t remember the last time we went there. We live by a strict set of rules now. We always come here. We don’t make love, we fool around a little and when we’re done, you leave. And you always leave.” He paused for a moment, but Hutch remained silent.

“You won’t do anything unless the light’s off. You won’t even touch me unless my shirt’s on. You’ve never touched these scars.” Starsky slowly put his shirt back on. “I used to wish you would,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t anymore. I’m ashamed of them now. They make me look and feel…broken.”

“Starsk…” Hutch reached out, but Starsky backed away.

“Later this week I’ll learn if I’m cleared to work. Even if I am, we’re done. I’ve become a china doll to you, fun to play with if you’re careful, but too fragile to trust to provide backup on the street.” He shrugged. “I’m better off quitting and leaving town.”

Hutch paled. “Starsky—”

He grabbed his jacket and opened the door. “Don’t be here when I get back.”

* * * *

Hutch was gone when he returned that night. On the coffee table was the key Starsky had given him and a small box wrapped in gold and a bright red bow. He ignored both and went to bed, but couldn’t sleep.

* * * *

Two days later, the notice came with the date and time of his medical eval and he had a decision to make. He wasn’t wrong about Hutch treating him as fragile. But if Hutch didn’t trust his abilities anymore, he couldn’t risk being partners on the street again. He sighed. Hutch was right. They did need to talk.

He grabbed his car keys and headed out.

* * * *

A light was on at Hutch’s apartment, but rather than letting himself in with the key Hutch had given him, Starsky rang the bell. There was no answer and he rang again.

This time, he heard someone coming and they didn’t sound happy.

A young man in rumpled boxers opened the door. “Yeah? What do you want?” Behind him, the light in the bedroom came on and Starsky heard someone heading toward the bathroom. A male cough echoed as the bathroom door closed.

That didn’t take long. He looked at his replacement standing before him.

“Well?” the man at the door demanded impatiently.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m at the wrong place.” Starsky turned and went back to his car.

* * * *

Thirty six hours later, he was dressed in a suit and tie, waiting to be called before the eval board.

“Are you ready?” The voice behind him belonged to Hutch and he turned in annoyance.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? You’re my partner. I came to support you.”

He scoffed. “Don’t play games with me. I met your new one the other day.”

“What?”

Starsky dug out his keys, pulled the one to Hutch’s apartment off the chain and held it out. “Good thing I didn’t use it when I dropped by the other night. I’d’ve walked in on the two of you in bed.”

“You went to my apartment?”

“Yeah. That was me ringing the bell. He answered the door and you hid in the bathroom.”

“Starsk, I’m not living there. I sublet the place to an older guy four months ago.”

“Then where are you living?”

“Did you open my present?”

They were interrupted by Starsky’s summons to the eval board.

* * * *

Starsky was cleared to return to work. He thanked them and left with Hutch trailing anxiously.

“Are you staying?”

“I don’t know yet. Let’s go back to my place. You’re right. We need to talk.”

They arrived at Starsky’s a few minutes apart. Starsky went inside and left the door open. Hutch pulled a change of clothes out of the back seat and joined Starsky. They took turns changing and met in the living room.

“You left the beer here. Do you want one?” Starsky headed for the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure.”

Starsky grabbed two bottles from the fridge and joined Hutch. His birthday present was unopened on the table.

He fidgeted with the bottle. “So that’s why we never go to your place now. Why did you sublet it? Where are you living?”

Hutch took the beer from Starsky’s hand, set it on the table and reached for the gift. He handed it to Starsky with a shy smile. “Open your birthday present, Starsk.”

He hesitated a long time, then obeyed. In it was a key. “What’s this?”

“Remember that place we looked at before you were shot? The one with the kitchen we really liked?”

“Yeah”

“I bought it. I’ve been working on it, nights and weekends, trying to get it ready for us to move into. I did the updates we talked about. Painted the whole place, changed out that light fixture you hated so much, refinished the floors, screened in the porch. It took a while, but it’s done now, except it needs appliances and it isn’t furnished yet. I thought you’d like to do that together.”

“That’s why you didn’t stay over. Why you were so tired. You were working on the house.”

Hutch didn’t reply at first and his shy pride faded. When he did, he sounded ashamed. “In part. But you were right about some of it. I was ecstatic when you were ready to leave the hospital. Your prognosis was good. They said it would take time, but they expected you to make a full recovery. We arrested Gunther and life began to return to normal.”

He had questions, but Hutch wasn’t finished.

“Then things settled down and I had time to think. Really think. And I told myself we were doing okay until the first time I saw you with your shirt off and it hit me. You almost died. You did die.” It had happened months ago, but Hutch sounded terrified. “I almost lost you.” His voice dropped low. “Every time I see those scars, it hits me again. I almost lost you. Can you understand?”

He studied Hutch and frowned. “No. I can’t. Not after all this time. They made me talk to someone. Sounds like you should too.” He took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. “I get that the scars are reminders of a traumatic time. But I can’t change them and you pretending they don’t exist only hurts us both.”

He put the key back in the box and set it on the table. “I love you, Hutch. I love that you got that place and fixed it up for us. But I can’t live there with you.” He absently rubbed his chest. “Not with these between us. You see me as fragile now, with one foot in the grave. And I can’t make them magically go away. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

He reached for the beer, then changed his mind. “I guess I’ve decided. Don’t be angry. You were honest and I’m glad you were. Now I need to be honest with you. We might have been happy living together before this happened, but now it’s all ‘let’s pretend’.”

Something died inside of him. “I’m putting in for a transfer in the morning. Hutch. Thanks for being my partner all these years. I hope your new one gives you the support you deserve.” He stood up and headed for the door. “You’d better go.”

“Starsky—”

“Please, Hutch. And take the key.”

He watched Hutch stroke the key gently, then pick it up and slip it into a pocket.

Hutch wadded up the suit he’d worn earlier and met him at the door. When he reached out a hand to touch Starsky’s chest, Starsky backed away.

“Goodbye, Hutch.”

Hutch nodded and walked out.

* * * *

He ended up in a precinct across town, partnered with an overeager rookie detective desperate to prove himself. The kid talked non-stop in the Torino, asking questions, recounting cases he’d worked and telling his life story to a mostly silent Starsky. But he was willing to learn and when Starsky did speak, the kid paid attention and learned how to conduct himself on the streets.

A few weeks into their partnership, they stumbled into a convenience store robbery. The doer was a junkie, wild-eyed and armed, looking for quick cash to feed his habit. He aimed at the young detective with Starsky and fired. Starsky knocked him out of the way and fired back. The junkie went down, bleeding but alive.

He hadn’t thought about it, he’d just done it. No hesitation, no second-guessing his actions. He’d protected his partner and caught the bad guy, and for the first time since he’d been back on the streets, he felt like he could still make a difference.

He wished he could tell Hutch.

The next day, a vaguely familiar voice hailed Starsky as he and the kid were waiting in line for their lunch at a neighbourhood food truck.

“Hey Starsky! I heard you was back! Whatcha doing on this side of town? Where’s Hutch?” A chunky black man in filthy coveralls came up behind him and slapped him on the back in greeting.

“Hi, Wyatt. Where ya working these days?”

“My crew’s down a manhole two blocks over. It’s my turn to pick up lunch. Who’s this?” Wyatt jerked his thumb at the kid with Starsky.

“My partner. Jimmy, this is Wyatt. He does maintenance and repairs on the sewer lines around town. He’s a good guy and his crew is one of the best.”

“Why, thanks, Starsky. That’s kind of you to say.” The man nodded to Jimmy, but didn’t shake hands. “What happened to Hutch? He okay? He didn’t get shot, too, did he?”

“No, he didn’t get shot. He’s fine. He still works for Captain Dobey.” Starsky saw the confusion on Wyatt’s face and cut the conversation short before the questions began. “Our lunch order is up. We’ll see ya around, Wyatt. You have a good one.”

He stepped around the maintenance man and led his partner to the window to collect their order, then went back to the Torino and got in. He hadn’t planned to eat in the car, but he wanted to get away from the area and eat his lunch in peace.

For once, Jimmy was quiet. When Starsky pulled over and reached for his lunch, Jimmy ventured, “You’re the cop who got gunned down in a precinct parking lot earlier this year and almost died, aren’t you?”

“Yeah” He didn’t feel the need to provide more details. “I’m fine now. Let’s eat.”

But Jimmy wouldn’t let it go. “Who’s Hutch?”

Starsky took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed before answering. “We were partners before I got shot.”

“Why didn’t—”

“They weren’t sure I’d be back, or when. He got a new one while I was recovering and they’re doing okay. I didn’t want to break them up.” He didn’t know why he was lying to the kid, but he didn’t want any more questions. “Finish eating so we can get back to work. Try not to spill anything in my car.”

* * * *

“Starsky!” It was Dobey, yelling into the radio the way he always did.

“Captain. What’s up?”

“Where the hell’s your partner?”

Starsky frowned. “Sitting next to me. Why?”

“Don’t be funny. Where’s Hutchinson?”

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since I transferred. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t been to work or called in the past two days and that isn’t like him. I was hoping you knew. You guys were, um…you were…tight…back then.”

“Not anymore, Cap. Has anybody checked his place?”

“He moved out of his apartment 6 months ago. The tenant doesn’t know where he lives.”

So he didn’t tell them about the house. I wonder why. Starsky snorted and shook his head. “Our shift just ended. We’re on our way back to the station. I have an idea where he might be. I’ll check and get back to you, Cap.”

Dobey growled into the radio and signed off.

Starsky pulled into the parking lot.

“Need any help, Starsky?”

For a moment, he’d forgotten Jimmy was there. “No. I’m good. Let’s go check in. I’ve got places to be.”

* * * *

When they’d talked about getting a place together, they’d looked at condos and a couple of townhouses. But on a whim, they’d toured a single family residence that had just come on the market. It needed work, but they liked it a lot. They found themselves wondering if they could afford it, dreamed about changes they’d make and how they would decorate.

And then Starsky was shot.

Later, Hutch told him he’d bought the place, fixed it up. He suspected Hutch was there—and his car was in the driveway. Starsky pulled in next to it and admired the work Hutch had done. The place was even nicer than he remembered.

But the realtor sign on the lawn was a shock. Hutch was selling it?

He knocked on the screen door closing off the porch, but got no answer. He walked onto the porch and banged on the front door. “C’mon, Hutch! I know you’re in there. Open up! We need to talk.”

He could hear shuffling inside and waited, shocked at Hutch’s haggard appearance when he finally cracked open the door.

“What are you doing here, Starsky? What do you want?”

“Dobey called me. You haven’t been to work and he hasn’t heard from you in a couple of days. He’s worried. He sent someone to your apartment to check on you and the tenant didn’t know where you were. You never told them you moved here?”

“Haven’t moved here. In fact, I’m selling this dump. Don’t worry about Dobey. I’ll give him a call next time I go out. I don’t have a phone here.” He started to close the door, but Starsky’s hand was in the crack.

“Let me in, Hutch, or I’ll break down the door. We’re going to talk.”

Hutch scoffed. “Got nothing to say. But do come in. I’ll give you a tour. Maybe one of your friends would like to buy a house. You can sell ‘em on this one. Get a finder’s fee.” He swung the door open and let Starsky in.

The place was a mess. The only furniture was a folding chair and an inflatable mattress with a sleeping bag on it. There was a cardboard box next to the fireplace, with half-folded clothes on the floor around it. The rest of the room was strewn with dirty clothes, empty beer bottles, fast food bags and pizza boxes.

“Sorry I can’t offer you a beer, but I’m out. There might be a slice or two of pizza left in one of the boxes, though. Feel free to help yourself.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not. Drank my last beer a couple of days ago and haven’t been back to the store yet. Never got around to buying new appliances, so there’s no way to keep anything cold.” Hutch plopped down onto the sleeping bag with a sigh. “Hmm. Could be a problem selling the place. Better ask Casey about that.”

“Casey?”

“The real estate lady. I need to recoup as much of the money I shelled out here as I can. Can’t afford to throw good money after bad.”

“Taking out the trash would help.” Starsky was annoyed at Hutch’s attitude, until he realized how devastated Hutch was to see him here. “When did you put it back on the market?” he asked gently.

“A couple of days ago.” Hutch didn’t look at him. “Tell ya what. Have a look around, Starsk. If you want it, I’ll sign it over to you ‘as is.’ Save myself the hassle of selling the place.” His voice dropped. “It was meant to be your birthday present anyway.”

“It was meant to be ours.” Starsky murmured quietly. He turned his back on the mess in the room and wandered through the rest of the house.

The rest of the place was immaculate and beautiful. Hutch had done everything they’d dreamed of doing, including replacing the bathroom light fixture he’d hated when they’d looked at the house so long ago. He went back to the kitchen. It needed appliances, but Hutch had added a tile backsplash and he liked the kitchen even more.

A lot of love had gone into the work Hutch had done and he caught himself picturing the furniture he’d add and where. Oh Hutch…

Loving Hutch was never the problem. He loved Hutch still, but he needed to be Hutch’s equal, not a broken doll sketchily repaired, who couldn’t be trusted as backup. He rubbed his chest and suddenly realized Hutch hadn’t been the only one who’d needed convincing.

I’m ashamed of them…They make me look and feel…broken…

He’d said that to Hutch, blaming him for the fear both of them shared. Hutch was afraid of losing him to violence on the streets. But he was the one who’d gone, needing to prove to them both he was still a capable cop.

And Hutch’s silent agreement had worsened things between them.

Starsky wandered back to find Hutch out cold, curled on the sleeping bag. He sighed and began cleaning up, sorting the laundry scattered by the fireplace. The clean clothes he quickly refolded into neat stacks, the dirty clothes he collected into a pile. He used the cardboard box for the empty beer bottles, pizza boxes and other trash littering the room.

When he was done, he quietly opened the front door and put the box on the porch, but before he closed it, he went out and took down the realtor’s sign and put it with the trash. He stood there a moment, weighing his decision, then went back inside.

* * * *

The tour he’d taken earlier awakened memories of his life with Hutch before he was shot. Things they’d done, things they’d planned. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d been happy and now that his self-confidence was on the mend, he wanted it back. But he had to convince Hutch.

He looked for something to do that wouldn’t disturb Hutch. He’d already cleaned up the trash; there was nothing to cook and no way to cook it. He couldn’t order food. But the shower drew him with happier memories and he grabbed one of Hutch’s clean t-shirts and headed for the bathroom.

Soap and towels were available, so he turned the shower on, stripped and stepped under the spray. The hot water felt good after a long day on the streets. He took his time, exploring his scars with soapy fingers instead of blindly scrubbing at them with a wash cloth, quick rinse and done.

He told himself the scars didn’t define him. They were healed tissue, nothing more. And he believed it at last. More at peace with himself than he’d been in a while, he finished scrubbing, then rinsed and turned off the shower.

“Can I help?”

Hutch appeared in the steam, holding a towel. Starsky smiled shyly and nodded. “That would be nice.” He stepped out of the shower and spread his arms, expecting Hutch to wrap the towel around his waist. Instead, Hutch took his time drying him off. While he did it, Starsky murmured, “I borrowed one of your t-shirts for something clean to cover these.” He touched a finger to a scar on his chest.

“You don’t need it.” Hutch hung the towel on the shower door and carefully hugged him. “Stay with me tonight. We can sleep here or go back to your place. I won’t ask for more than that, but stay with me. Please?”

It hurt to hear Hutch beg. He stepped away from the embrace, but took one of Hutch’s hands and pressed it to the scars on his chest. “I’ll stay. But let’s go back to my place. We’ll pick up some burgers on the way. You can call Dobey when we get there and we can do a load of laundry while we talk.

He pulled on Hutch’s t-shirt and slipped into his jeans commando, then picked up his dirty shirt, shorts and socks and led Hutch back to the living room.

“I took the For Sale sign down, Hutch.”

“I know you did. Casey came by to show the house and woke me while you were in the shower. I told her and the couple with her I was taking it off the market.”

He nodded, relieved Hutch wasn’t angry he’d done that. “Something else to talk about.” He added his dirty clothes to the pile of Hutch’s, and reached for his gun and holster on the mantle. While he strapped it on, Hutch pulled his out from under a corner of the mattress on the floor and did the same.

“Separate cars?” It was good of Hutch to ask the question, but they both knew the answer.

“Separate cars. We go to different places in the morning and there won’t be time to swing by here to get the other car.”

He watched Hutch slip into his shoes and pick up the pile of laundry, but spurned putting on his own shoes. He picked them up and followed Hutch barefoot out to the cars.

* * * *

The burgers cooled on the coffee table while Starsky grabbed some quarters and went down to start their laundry and Hutch listened contritely to Dobey yelling on the phone. Dobey was still yelling when Starsky returned, so he went to the kitchen for a couple of beers, opened them both and handed one to Hutch.

It was a full six minutes more before Dobey ran out of words and hung up. Hutch took a long swing from the beer he was holding before hanging up the receiver. “I’m in a lot of trouble, Starsk. I report to Dobey at 8:00 AM.”

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow, Hutch. Nothing you can do tonight. Come eat.”

Hutch finished the beer he was holding and went to the kitchen for two more. He set one down on the table near Starsky and opened the other. It was half gone before he sat down on the couch and reached for his burger.

“Take it easy, Hutch,” Starsky chided. “You need to be sober when you see Dobey in the morning, not hung over.”

Hutch nodded and they ate in silence. When they were finished, Hutch gathered the trash and the empty bottles and headed for the kitchen. “Want another one, Starsk?”

“No. And neither do you. Grab a couple of Cokes. I’ll be right back.”

Hutch was staring at the unopened bottle of Coke in his hand when he returned from putting the clothes on to dry. “Dobey may fire me tomorrow, Starsk.”

“Why?”

“Dereliction of duty. Or something along those lines.” Hutch sounded tired. “He’d be right to do it, I guess.”

“What’s going on?” Starsky opened his Coke and settled back on the couch, but blatantly studied Hutch.

“I can’t keep a partner, I don’t finish paperwork on time any more, I’ve missed a shift or three and I’ve stopped staying in touch with Dobey…”

“What’s really going on, Hutch?”

Hutch sighed heavily and refused to look at him. “You left.”

“I had to.”

“I know. And I was relieved, at first. I was.”

It seemed to him that Hutch was still trying to convince himself Starsky leaving was the right thing for both of them.

“I’d start each day determined to do better and end each day back at the house alone. Then I heard about you foiling that convenience store robbery and everything came crashing down.” Hutch set the Coke down and shrugged in desolation. “I need you, Starsk. I can take not being partners on the streets anymore if that’s what you want, but you need to come home to me at night.”

Blue eyes looked imploringly into his. “Please, Starsk.”

“My lease expired before I transferred, Hutch. I’ve been living month to month trying to decide what to do.” He reached out and rubbed Hutch’s arm. “If you think we can work it out, I’d like to try.”

Hutch stood and pulled him up into a loose hug. “Come to bed, Starsk. Not for sex. I want us to touch each other again like we used to.”

He stepped out of Hutch’s arms and took off the t-shirt he’d borrowed at the house. “Are you sure?”

Hutch reached out and deftly touched the scars on his chest. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then come to bed and show me. We’ll go see Dobey together in the morning and work something out.”

“Appliances and furniture shopping this weekend?”

He gave Hutch a gentle kiss. “I’m not saying no, babe, but one thing at a time. Sleep tonight, Dobey tomorrow. We’ll make weekend plans once we set things right.”

Hutch exhaled in relief and Starsky smiled.

“C’mon, Hutch. Let’s go to bed.” He took Hutch’s hand and led the way.