Echoes of Fear

Starsky’s not the only one who needs healing after Simon Marcus.

Originally published in the Starsky and Hutch mixed zine, The Lucky and the Strong.

*Note: This story was originally published under a different name.

God, Hutchinson, you’re cracking up! Unable to stop himself, Hutch rose from his makeshift bed, turned on a light in the living room and walked quietly around the divider to study the sleeping figure of his partner.

Starsky looked so peaceful. Hutch was glad his friend had not argued over staying with him for the night. But then Starsky had known, too, that they needed to be together right now—needed the reassurance of each other’s presence.

Hutch sat on the opposite edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb him. He did not know how long he sat just watching the other man sleep but his eyes finally grew heavy, and he yawned. Unable to leave his partner unprotected, he crawled in under the covers, gently soothing his companion as he mumbled a protest. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just me. Go back to sleep.” With his partner safe and within reach, Hutch finally was able to fall asleep. His last conscious thought was, Why didn’t I think of this earlier?

They had arrived too late. The thought slammed into him like a freight train, making breathing a difficult task. He had brought back-up with him—as procedure dictated—but it had not helped his partner in the end.

Simone’s followers had been standing in a circle, awaiting their arrival, and had not been easily subdued. There had been no time to spare for the man hanging by his wrists from the monkey bars.

When they had finally cut him free and lowered him to the ground, one of the other cops had turned a stricken face to Hutch, unable to find the words. It was every cop’s worst nightmare, and for Hutch it had just come true. His partner, David Michael Starsky, was dead.

“Nooo…”

“Hutch… C’mon, partner. Wake up. It’s only a dream. Hutch!”

He woke suddenly and sat up, choking back another scream. His breathing was ragged and uneven. Sweat was pouring from him, yet he shivered.

Starsky put his arm around Hutch’s trembling shoulders and hugged him briefly. Hutch resisted the impulse to pull away. This was Starsky, for God’s sake!

“You okay?” Starsky asked softly.

Hutch had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Hutch didn’t hesitate. “No. Not right now.”

“Okay.” Starsky let it go with obvious reluctance.

Hutch quickly left the bed. The need to move was overwhelming. “Think I’ll get a drink.” He headed for the kitchen.

After he gulped down the water he didn’t really want, he returned to the couch and got settled again.

“Hey, ain’t you comin’ back in?” Starsky called plaintively.

“No. I’m too restless. I’d only wake you up again. You need the sleep,” Hutch answered abruptly. “I’ll stay out here.”

They were poor excuses at best, but Hutch felt he needed the distance right now. Even sharing the same bed with Starsky had not been proof against the nightmare of what could so easily have been reality. In the dream’s aftermath he felt he needed some distance from his partner to think through the day’s events.

The rest of the night passed without further dreams from either man. Or rather if there were dreams, they didn’t admit to them. Hutch was the first to surface that morning, and when he glanced at the clock in the kitchen he was surprised. It was just after 9:00 a.m. He usually couldn’t sleep past 7:00. But the events of the past few days had finally taken their toll.

After looking through his refrigerator and cupboards, he realized he had very little in the way of edible food, even by Starsky’s standards. Checking his pockets for money and locating his car keys, he slipped out to the store. They would both feel better after a good breakfast.

Hutch could smell the coffee as he re-entered his apartment. Good, Starsky was up. There were sounds of off-key singing from the bathroom, and he could hear his shower running. As he started fixing eggs and bacon he couldn’t help smiling. His partner was the typical optimist. Who else—having been through what he had just a day ago—could sing their lungs out as if they hadn’t a care in the world?

Deciding to surprise his partner with a cup of hot coffee, Hutch headed for the bathroom. He opened the door quietly and entered the steaming room.

As he pulled back the shower curtain Starsky—who had his back to the door—lashed out and just barely pulled his kick in time to avoid connecting full force with Hutch’s ribs. As it was, he winded his partner. Hutch grabbed hold of his arm and they went down in a tangled heap, the full coffee cup shattering on the tiles and water from the shower spraying both men.

“Whaddya think you’re doin’?” Starsky sounded more indignant than angry as they got themselves untangled, careful of broken stoneware and vulnerable anatomy.

“What am I doing? What are you doing, partner?” Hutch’s voice was unintentionally sharp. His friend’s reaction had startled him.

Starsky paused. “I thought… uh… well, I guess… Ah, shit, Hutch…” He looked away, as if embarrassed.

“Hey, Starsk. This is me, remember? Your partner. You don’t have to pretend with me, buddy.” Hutch’s voice was soft with understanding. It was only natural that Starsky was going to be jumpy for a while.

Starsky grinned weakly and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Were you finished with your shower?”

“Yeah, but I may need another one.” Starsky’s tone warned Hutch the answer was loaded.

“Oh, why’s that?” He decided to play along.

“I think I had an accident!”

Hutch laughed at the expression on the other man’s face. “Get dressed, you nut. And I’ll clean up this mess.” His face twisted into a grimace of disgust as he picked up a towel soaked with coffee.

As Starsky turned away to get his clothes, Hutch got a good look at the bruises and welts on his back. The bruises on his chest and stomach weren’t so noticeable through the dark pelt of body hair. Unreasoning fear and anger welled up strong as he realized again just how close Starsky’s rescue had been. Another minute and they would have been too late.

Hutch’s blood felt like it was boiling with the rage inside him. Simon Marcus and his spaced-out followers could never pay fully for what Starsky had suffered. But his conscience nagged at him. If you had protected him like a partner should, this never would have happened!

The rational part of Hutch’s brain shouted back, There was no reason to suspect, damnit! We were in the goddamned Court House!! There were guards everywhere—at least when we went in. Still, it hadn’t been enough.

Starsky turned to head to the bedroom and paused, eyes on his partner’s face. “Hutch?” he asked, voice full of uncertainty.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.” His voice was brusque, and he headed quickly to the kitchen for a dustpan and brush to clean up the broken coffee cup.

Starsky headed for the bedroom area to get dressed.

As Hutch mechanically cleaned the mess in the bathroom, his mind was still racing with anger and fear.

The gift of Starsky’s freely given trust and affection was a heavy responsibility. And it was a double-edged sword to Hutch. On the one hand, it protected him from the loneliness he often felt—but he was only content when Starsky was around. And yesterday, he’d almost lost that completely.

In the aftermath, his mind was crying out to him to turn his back on the caring, to return to his solitary days again. At least there he couldn’t be hurt like this. It would be better not to care at all than go through this agony every time Starsky’s life was in danger.

Hutch shook his head, frustrated at life in general. Dumping the remains of the mug in the garbage, he checked to make certain everything was back in order and headed out to the living room.

***

Starsky knew his partner was stewing about something. The only question was whether he could get Hutch to talk it out.

Well, they weren’t going to do it here, he thought firmly. This was home ground, and Hutch would feel secure in throwing him out if it got too uncomfortable. No, they needed a neutral spot.

He smiled as inspiration struck. A trip to the beach would be perfect. They could go for a long walk, and yet have privacy and space enough to talk undisturbed.

He finished dressing and headed out to the kitchen. There was still coffee in the pot and he poured himself a cup, savoring it. It wasn’t a pre-packaged brand, but one that Hutch had ground and mixed specially. The smell alone was enough to make the mouth water.

Starsky knew he was going to have to do some fast talking to get Hutch to consider heading for the beach. Hutch was in an unapproachable mood, and was always difficult to deal with then. Grabbing Hutch’s car keys, he settled onto the sofa with his jacket across his lap. While waiting for his partner to finish in the bathroom he idly twirled the key ring around his finger, mentally trying to identify the keys to pass the time.

***

As Hutch came out of the bathroom he heard the sound of jangling keys. Passing his partner on the way to the kitchen he noticed his own keyring was the source of the sound.

“You trying to tell me something, partner?”

“Wanna go to the beach?” Starsky had a hopeful note in his voice.

“Not particularly,” he admitted. He couldn’t explain to Starsky the need to keep him close for a while longer. Somewhere safe, where he could keep an eye on him and not worry about something happening.

“C’mon, Hutch. Please? I need to get out. ‘M going crazy in here. It’s not that I mind the company, but I been cooped up too long, you know?”

Hutch did know, and realized it wasn’t fair to let his own fears rob his partner of the fresh air and sunshine. It was a beautiful day.

Starsky apparently wasn’t sure he had convinced his partner, as he continued, “C’mon, Hutch. Huh? It’s gorgeous outside! We could go to the beach—take a walk. Soak up some sun. You always say I don’t get out enough. Whaddya say? Please? We can even use your car.”

He put such a wheedle in his voice that Hutch finally gave in, laughing at the little-boy tone. It felt good to see his partner in this mood.

“Give me the keys—you’re not driving,” he said, mock-stern.

Starsky pretended to pout. “Why not?”

“You’re not old enough!” Hutch retorted.

Hutch was glad Starsky had persuaded him to get out for a while. He had always been able to think better in the clear air, and the fears and worries of earlier that morning lost their sharpness in the reality of having Starsky—healthy and whole—slouched next to him in the car.

The drive to the beach was quiet—both men seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Hutch was pulled abruptly from his reverie when his partner shifted against the car seat and muttered a curse under his breath.

“What’s the matter, Starsk?”

“Nothin’. I just can’t get comfortable in this seat,” he grumbled.

Starsky had complained before about the springs in the seat-back poking him, but Hutch had never taken him seriously. Remembering how his partner’s back had looked just an hour ago made him wince, and he vowed to do something about the seat as soon as possible.

There were a lot of people at the beach, but not nearly the crowds that would be around during the height of summer. It didn’t take Hutch long to find a relatively secluded area with parking.

“This looks like a good spot.”

Starsky nodded his agreement and stretched cramped muscles as his partner pulled in. Hutch caught the wince as his partner overdid it, but held his tongue.

Without waiting for Hutch, Starsky headed down the beachfront towards the water. As he started walking along the edge, Hutch fell into step beside him.

They walked in a comfortable silence for several minutes, enjoying the easy companionship.

Starsky finally broke the silence. “I was scared, yknow?”

Hutch nodded. It didn’t diminish Starsky in his eyes—the man had good reason to have been frightened.

Starsky continued, “I was scared, and I couldn’t show it. Had to cover it any way I could. ‘Cause if they had thought for one minute I was scared, it would have been over. I wouldn’t have been able to fight them.

“So I used anger. I got so goddamned mad, Hutch. It was a defense mechanism, y’know? Substitute one feeling for another, that kind of thing.”

Hutch nodded his understanding. He’d used the same tactic a time or two. It was a natural way of dealing with such situations.

“So what about you?”

“What do you mean?” Anticipating the direction the questioning might take, Hutch stopped, hands balled tightly at his sides.

Starsky continued on a few steps further, then turned to face his partner. “I’m just trying to figure out why my partner has been running hot and cold since he rescued me from a very hairy situation.”

Hutch shrugged, trying for indifference. “Reaction, I guess.”

Starsky considered that for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t buy that.”

“Whaddya mean you don’t buy that?!” Hutch’s voice was angry now. “This isn’t a multiple choice, Starsky. You can’t pick and choose my answers!”

“Gettin’ mad ain’t gonna help, Hutch. When you cool off, I’m still gonna be here, wantin’ an answer.”

“An answer to what, for God’s sake?!” Hutch was exasperated.

“What are you so afraid of?” Starsky asked softly.

That silenced Hutch completely. It was totally unnerving the way this man had the ability to read him so thoroughly. Yet there was a strange comfort in it, too—that Starsky could know some of what he was thinking and not be put off by it.

Lying would do no good—Starsky would be able to see right through it. And he owed this man no less than the truth, no matter how painful it was to bring out into the open.

Finally, he got up the nerve to admit, “I am scared, Starsk. Scared of losing this.” He gestured between them. “Us.” He turned to stare out into the ocean. “It was so damned close, Starsky. When we first pulled up—” He stopped to clear his throat. “I thought you were already dead—” He couldn’t continue, and knew that Starsky could hear the fear in his voice.

Hutch sat down in the sand, letting it drift through his hands. He looked up as Starsky joined him, sitting close but not intruding. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue. “You’re my partner, Starsk. But you’re also my best friend. That makes the risk doubly high sometimes.”

“Hey!” Starsky chided. “You think I don’t know that? D’you think I don’t worry about you? Or that I haven’t suffered watching you hurt?” He shook his head. “I thought I’d go crazy when Forest had you, man. And then when we did find you—” The memories were still painful for both men, and he couldn’t continue.

“So what do we do?” Hutch asked woodenly.

Starsky shrugged. “What we’ve always done—watch each other’s back.”

Hutch snorted derisively. “I didn’t do such a good job this time.”

Starsky shook his head in exasperation. “So what’re you gonna do, huh? Follow me to the john all the time?”

Hutch lifted his head defiantly. “If it keeps you out of trouble—maybe.”

A bubble of mirth escaped from Starsky. It grew into a chuckle, and he collapsed backward in the sand, laughing. He was hugging his stomach tightly, but Hutch couldn’t tell if it was because he couldn’t breathe or pain from abused muscles, or both. It didn’t stop the laughing, though.

Hutch waited for him to catch his breath, then asked wryly, “Wanna share the joke?”

That made Starsky snort, and he began to chuckle again. Apparently seeing his partner’s growing impatience, he made an effort to speak between snickers. “Just imagined… Judge asking for Detective Starsky… only he can’t be found. Turns out… he’s in the men’s room. ‘What about Hutchinson?’ the Judge asks… Someone replies, ‘He’s there, too… watching!'”

That started the laughter all over again, and this time Hutch couldn’t help but join in. It did make a funny picture, put like that.

“You’re a nut, Starsky. You know that?”

The other man nodded and said with contented surety, “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Hutch nodded, feeling lighter than he had in days. “That’s right.” He got to his feet, and extended his hand to help his partner up. “But you still didn’t answer the question.”

Starsky became serious. “Hutch, don’t you see? There is no answer. We just gotta take it day by day—situation by situation. If you still want to be partners.”

That got a reaction. “What do you mean if?! Of course I do! Why would you think—?”

“Whoa! Just hold on, okay? Before you tie yourself in knots, I was just wondering if maybe you felt it was too much of a risk to be my partner—and my friend.”

Hutch tried to imagine himself and Starsky with different partners, and couldn’t see it. It was as if he and Starsky had been selected by some higher authority, and were fated to be partners.

“Maybe it is a risk,” he agreed softly. “But it’s worth it.” He held out his hand. “Partners?”

Starsky took the hand, and used it as a means to pull Hutch into a brief but reassuring hug. “Yeah. Remember—me and thee, Hutch. Always.”

His teeth were starting to chatter, and Hutch couldn’t help scolding gently, “You shouldn’t have left your jacket behind.” The wind off the ocean was chilly, but he had kept his own jacket on and wasn’t bothered by it.

“Didn’t think it would be this cold!”

“D’you want my jacket?”

“Nah. I got a better idea.” He grinned ear to ear. “Race ya back to the car. Loser buys lunch!”

He was off before Hutch could reply, and Hutch decided not to waste his breath debating. His longer legs quickly caught his partner up and he passed him easily, but as they approached the car, he tripped over something and measured his length in the sand.

Starsky stopped beside him, bending over to catch his breath. “You okay?”

“Oh, just fine! I decided to take a nap while I was waiting for you.” Hutch’s tone was full of sarcasm.

Starsky grinned. “Thought it was something like that. C’mon, let’s go to Huggy’s. You buy lunch, I’ll buy the beer.” He straightened slowly.

Hutch got back on his feet swiftly. “You got a deal!”

They headed for the car at a slower pace. Hutch was aware that Starsky had perhaps overdone it physically, and didn’t want to tax him further. When Starsky tried to pick up the pace a bit, Hutch hung back, unwilling to be rushed.

Starsky finally caught on. “For Christ’s sake, I’m not gonna break, Hutch!” he said in exasperation. “It’s just a few bruises and scrapes. Honest.”

Hutch did his best to smile. “I know, partner. Give me a few days, huh? I might start to believe you.”

Starsky shook his head. “Did I ever tell you about my first coupla weeks in L.A.—when I was a kid?” He continued without waiting for Hutch’s answer. “Got beat up three times in two weeks. It was a hell of a lot worse than this!”

Hutch didn’t quite believe him, but by the time they reached the car, they were laughing and joking in their usual manner. The terror of the last few days had been put to rest, if not totally exorcised.

Hutch knew they were both aware that it was a temporary respite—that a similar situation could arise at any time. But the fear was lessened by the knowledge of the presence of a partner who counted your life as dear as his own.

For Hutch’s part, he knew his fears hadn’t been dealt with. They probably never would be, either. But for now, he was willing to put them in a small dark corner of his mind. Starsky was still here, and still his partner and friend. He intended it to stay that way.

Me and thee, buddy… always!