Remember Me Fondly

240

After being out of town on a court case, Starsky returns home to find Hutch in a state he hasn’t seen for many years. Is it possible Hutch has relapsed?

 

Originally published in the Starsky and Hutch zine, Dangerous Lives, Dangerous Visions 4 in 2006.

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“And then that pass! That was magic, I tell you.”

The taxi driver kept droning on about the game, but I wasn’t paying attention. After four days away, I was more than ready to get back home. It was just my luck to be called up for the court case up in San Francisco. With Tony being brought back to face charges, I had to testify. His lawyers dragged things out, but finally I took the stand, did my thing, and split a day early.

Hutch was still on vacation, so I took a cab. Leave it to him to manage a week at the cabin while I was stuck doing my civic duty. No phone, no bothers, just the lake and the quietness of nature. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t too keen on the nature part, but the other stuff would suit me just fine. I think he forced Dobey into it since the captain knew what kind of a pain he’d be on desk duty. I always got the short end of the stick around here.

“And then that tackle. I mean, he’s one of the best for a reason, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed, not even knowing what I was agreeing to. I noticed where we were. “It’s that fifth one up there on the right, the white one.”

“Got it.”

When we got closer to the driveway, I noticed that Hutch’s car was there. It probably refused to start. I was always telling him that one day that thing would just fall apart. I wondered whose car he had to borrow to get up to the lake.

The cab pulled to a stop and I paid the driver. I only had the one bag, which was in the back seat with me. He had the car back in drive before I got the door closed all the way. I guess my fare wasn’t enough to sustain him for the day.

I bent down to pet the wandering dog at my feet. “Hey, boy! Hey there, Sam.”

It was Sally’s dog, our neighbor down the street. I often joked that the dog seemed to adopt us as his second set of parents, but Hutch thought it had more to do with my feeding him every time he came around. I didn’t mind; it was nice to have a sort of pet.

“Sam!” came the faint call from Sally.

It must’ve been time for dinner, because he took off. A dog after my own heart. I got back to my feet and continued onto the house. I figured I’d pack up a few things and join Hutch up at the cabin. Dobey had given me the week off, anyway, and I certainly wasn’t gonna spend it alone at the house. Hutch could have his nature detours and I could have Hutch, easy compromise. We certainly needed it. A couple days away would help us regroup after all the problems at work. Hutch had taken a couple of our cases pretty hard, even to the point of shutting me out. I hated when he did that, especially now. How could I take care of him when he wouldn’t let me in?

The door gave way after a hard push. I still needed to fix that. The wood had warped and it was sticking more often now. Another weekend project to put on the list. I managed to get it closed by bumping it with my hip. I got mad at Hutch for doing it to my car, but I had no problem treating our door the same way.

“AAACHOOO!”

I dropped my bag and grabbed for my gun. I was supposed to be alone.

“Hutch?” I called out cautiously.

“Yeah,” a moan came from the bedroom.

I relaxed a little, re-holstering my weapon. The man was going to give me a heart attack before I was fifty. I picked up my bag to carry it into our bedroom. The lights were off and I could barely make out Hutch’s outline in the bed. He was moaning and sniffling.

“Aw, Hutch, you sick?”

“Sick, yeah,” he answered, sniffing. His body was shaking, probably from chills.

“Never made it to the cabin, huh?”

“No,” he whispered, almost out of breath.

“Of all the dumb luck,” I complained, coming nearer the bed and switching on the lights.

Hutch cringed at the sudden flood of light, turning away to shield his eyes. I sat down on the bed, laying my hand against his cheek. He didn’t seem to be warm, but he was sweating. I pulled his face around so I could see him.

I never thought I’d see that look again. My partner, the strong man I had committed my life to, was the last person I’d expect to fail. We had been through death together and come out stronger for it. Nothing could beat us, I thought. But looking at him, I felt like it was all a lie. Hutch wasn’t just sick; he was strung out.

“Starsk…” he breathed, bringing his arms up to shield more of his face.

I stood frozen in shock over what I was seeing. This couldn’t be right, not Hutch. My brain kept replaying alternatives. Maybe he was just sick, really sick. The stress of all those cases had gotten to him, weakened his system, and then some bug hit him so he was down for the count.

“I’m so cold,” he complained.

Hutch probably tried to take care of himself, not wanting to tell me while I was dealing with court. He was always putting others before himself. He wouldn’t go down this road again, not my partner.

“Help me!” he begged.

And suddenly I was back in that apartment, seeing my partner dirty and alone and just needing to make the pain go away. He promised that he’d never slip, he’d never be that bad off again. And I made sure of it. I was always there to protect him and keep him safe. Except, this time, I wasn’t.

“What have you done?” I whispered, not sure if he could hear me or not.

Hutch’s arms started flailing and I pinned them down. He looked at me, wild eyes not really seeing who was in front of him. He was breaking my heart. Had he really gone back to needing that rush? Why now, after all this time? What had pushed him over the edge to make him do this to himself?

“Help me,” he moaned again, almost crying.

“You’re strung out,” my voice was breaking.

“No.” He shook his head back and forth on the pillow.

“If you lie to me, I can’t help you!” I yelled, tightening my grip on his arms.

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” he insisted.

I pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, expecting to see the track marks, but there was nothing there. I tried the other arm, and there were only two minor puncture wounds. I felt confused, then guilty. Was he telling the truth? He had the same look, the same need, longing for something I couldn’t give him.

“Talk to me,” I urged. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sick.”

“When did you get sick, Hutch?” I stroked his face.

“I thought I was getting sick, so I didn’t go up to the cabin,” he explained, his body beginning to shake.

“Then what happened?”

“I hurt my leg.” He started struggling. “It’s too hot.”

He was kicking at the sheet, pain etched on his face. I helped him get uncovered and then noticed the bandage on his leg. It was red and bruised around the white gauze.

“What happened to your leg?” I tried to get him to focus, holding his face in my hands again so he could concentrate on me. “Hutch, what happened to your leg?”

“I fell down in the back yard, accidentally cut it on the broken fence.” His eyes closed against a wave of pain. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

He started coughing and gagging. I pulled him closer, rubbing his back and trying to make the nausea go away. After a few muscle spasms, I eased his body back down on the mattress.

“Sally took me to the hospital,” he continued.

“What? You went to the hospital?” I was confused.

“Had to stop the bleeding,” he struggled to get the words out. “It hurt so bad.”

“What’d they do?”

“Cleaned and wrapped it, gave me a tetanus shot and something else.” He took a breath before going on. “Kept me overnight, since I had a fever.”

“You were in the hospital overnight and nobody called to tell me?”

“Sally was the only one who knew. I told her not to make you worry.”

“What happened at the hospital?” I asked.

“I think they were giving me something for the pain. I slept all night.”

“Morphine,” I guessed. “You’ve been sick for almost two days?”

He tried to smile. “I looked fine when I got out yesterday.”

“But you weren’t,” I pointed out, stroking his head. He was still sweating.

“I do a good job undercover,” he tried to joke.

“Only with people that don’t know you very well.” I readjusted Hutch’s body so he wasn’t as constricted as before.

“I think the tetanus shot made me sick. Made me feel funny, but I thought it might’ve been the pain meds. Stopped taking them this morning, but it made it worse.”

“Have you been alone all this time?”

“I could handle it,” he tried to defend himself.

“You shouldn’t have had to. You’ve got an injured leg and you’re sick on top of it. You should’ve called somebody.”

“Thought about calling Huggy, but I think I fell asleep again.” Hutch’s teeth chattered, so I pulled the sheets and blanket back over him. I could tell he was getting sleepy by the way he was trying to force his eyes to stay open.

“Rest now,” I told him, leaning to place a kiss on his forehead. “I’m home to take care of you.”

“Missed you, Starsk,” Hutch whispered.

I went over to the light switch and turned it off. Silently, I stood there waiting for his breathing to even out so that I could slip out of the bedroom. I was home now and could take care of him like he needed.

“Missed you, Hutch,” I said as he drifted off to sleep.

I closed the bedroom door behind me as I left. I thought about how much I loved him, how much I wish I had been there when he needed me. But most of all, I kept thinking that I had thought the worst of him. How could I lose my trust so easily? Would he remember that when he was well again? If I were lucky, he wouldn’t… But even if he didn’t remember, I would remember and regret.

“I’m sorry, Hutch,” I apologized, pressing my hand against the bedroom door. “I’m so sorry.”