Two Minds, Two Chances

948

The guys are back in Bay City, after their case on Playboy Island.

 

What does Papa Theodore do next? Voodoo content.

---

For the past few weeks, Hutch’s dreams had been haunted by the laughing face of Papa Theodore. He had woken at precisely 5am, every morning, his face and body dripping with perspiration. Hutch’s ears rang with the Bokor’s loud, evil laughter and his head thumped at the sound of the Bokor’s booming voice, repeating, “You belong to me, you belong to me.”

This morning was no different. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to bring his breathing under control. His chest hurt from the frantic force of his lungs.

“Come on, Hutchinson, get a grip. This is Bay City not Playboy Island. The Bokor is dead.” He spoke the words loudly, trying to reassure himself. He needed to hear the sound of his own voice, trying desperately to block out memory of the Bokor.

“Am I, Detective Hutchinson? Do you really believe that a Bokor as powerful as I would die when I have unfinished business?” boomed the voice in his head.

Hutch shook his head, attempting to rid himself of Papa Theodore. He was shaking, panic rising from deep within his gut. He thought back to the day in Captain Godfrey’s office, when Starsky and the Captain informed him that the Bokor had vanished into thin air.

The Captain had been quick to assure them that in the voodoo world, failure was not an option. Failure to take a cursed life meant that the Bokor paid with his own.

Still Hutch hadn’t been convinced, and he and Starsky had taken the first flight off the island. Starsky had booked the flight, although it took over 24 hours to get to LA. They had changed planes so many times that Hutch had lost count. Finally, he had given up and followed Starsky around the various airports without a care where they actually were as long as it wasn’t Playboy Island. He’d just wanted to get back home, to the safety of his own apartment.

And safe he felt. At least when he was awake and on duty with Starsky by his side. Or when he tended his plants, and especially when he spent time with his girlfriend Abby. He was fine then. The problems began when he was asleep, alone with his dreams. Papa Theodore was in his head, each and every night. He never left him for one second. He constantly repeated, “You belong to me, you belong to me.” Hutch felt like he was slowly going mad.

And the worst thing was that he couldn’t even share his fear with Starsky. How could Hutch admit that he couldn’t move on from what had happened on that island?

Starsky was the impressionable one, the one who believed in all this mumbo jumbo.

Hutch was the sensible one.

No, he couldn’t tell Starsky. Not after all the times he had ridiculed his partner about his latest superstition. Starsky would never let him forget it.

So Hutch kept quiet, suffering alone, in silence. Papa Theodore was anything but silent. Hutch just wished for just one night of dreamless sleep.

He had tried a sleeping pill out of sheer desperation, but all that had achieved was forced sleep. He had been stuck in his nightmare and unable to shake himself awake, trapped in Papa Theodore’s world, inside his own head. No, he wouldn’t try that again.

Heaving himself clumsily off the bed, Hutch stumbled into the bathroom. He reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water.

Struggling to stay upright, he attempted to remove his boxers. His fuddled brain refused to co-operate. In the end he gave up and stepped into the tub still wearing them. He hoped the spray would revive him enough to at least function on a basic level. He leaned against the wall, arms outstretched to support his weary body and let the spray batter the top of his head. Turning around, he allowed the torrent of water to massage his knotted back. The pressure of the water slowly eased the tension, he began to feel human again. Ready to face the day and the whirlwind that was Starsky.

Hutch turned off the shower, stepped out of the tub and walked across to the sink. With a quick brush of his right hand, he wiped the steam from the mirror. He rubbed his face, looking at his reflection. The image that stared back shocked him. The skin was gray and sallow. his pupils dull, and he had black bags under his eyes, like a panda’s. Even his hair was grey. He had aged at least 20 years overnight. The toll of the nightmares had finally caught up with him. When would it end?

Why is Papa Theodore torturing me? Why is he in my head? Starsky had been his weapon, programmed to kill us both. Why is Papa Theodore haunting me?

The voice boomed in his head. “Because Knight failed to kill Day. Now Day must kill Knight.”

Hutch squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again. “Go away, leave me alone. I won’t do it, you can’t make me.”

Laughter assaulted Hutch’s ears, loud and unrelenting. He covered them with his hands, backing into a corner of the bathroom. His legs buckled and he slumped to the floor, his last reserves of strength spent. He had lost the fight. The Bokor had won. Hutch knew that weakness was the food that fed voodoo. Once the power of suggestion was accepted, the process began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Torino screeched to a halt outside Venice Place, and parked bumper to bumper with Hutch’s battered Ford. Starsky jumped out almost before the car had stopped. Where the hell is Hutch? He was supposed to meet me outside Vinnie’s Gym over an hour ago.

Starsky had gone inside the gym, only to be told by Vinnie that he hadn’t seen Hutch that morning. That worried Starsky. Hutch never missed a morning session. He liked to work out before they hit the streets, said it kick started his brain, ready for the day. As if the mile run that Hutch did every morning wasn’t enough. Starsky really couldn’t understand Hutch’s maniacal health routines. He could do the minimum exercise and get the maximum results, no health food and strenuous fitness routines for him.

Starsky took the pavement in two strides and opened the door leading into a small staircase up to Hutch’s apartment. In his haste to find his partner, he mounted the steps two at once and powered up the staircase.

He knocked loudly at the door. “Hutch, you in there? Come on, buddy, this is no time to sleep in. Dobey will have our asses if we don’t call in soon.”

He received no reply and heard no sounds of movement from inside, so he tried again. “Shift your ass, partner.”

Nothing. He reached up above the door and ran his fingers across the lintel. Thankfully he found what he was looking for – Hutch’s spare key. He breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since Diana, Hutch had taken to keeping both keys with him, usually one in his car and one in his pocket. Not that Starsky blamed him. You just can’t tell who the psychos are these days.

Putting the key in the lock, he prayed that Hutch hadn’t drawn the bolt on the inside. Lady Luck was with him, one turn and the door gave way to his push. He opened the door wide enough to see into the apartment, and froze.

A naked Hutch sat on the couch, his back to the door. At least, he was naked from the waist up. The arm of the couch hid Hutch’s lower half. “Hutch, come on, you’re not even dressed yet. What you up to?”

Hutch didn’t move or acknowledge Starsky’s presence. He just sat there, rigid, staring straight ahead.

Starsky stepped into the room and kicked the door closed with his foot. The crash of wood meeting wood didn’t even make Hutch flinch.

Walking around the couch, Starsky stopped in front of him. “Hutch, are you okay?” Glancing down, he noted that Hutch wasn’t completely naked, he did have his boxers on.

There was still no response.

Starsky bent down in front of his partner and looked straight into Hutch’s eyes. They stared back, glazed, and unseeing. “Hutch, buddy, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Hutch gave no movement, not even the flicker of an eye.

Starsky grabbed Hutch’s right hand and pinched the back, hard.

Nothing.

“Hutch, speak to me. What the hell has happened to you?”

Starsky looked around the room for signs of… He wasn’t not even sure what he was looking for. The place was unusually tidy. No sign of a struggle or fight. He felt around Hutch’s head and neck. No lumps or bumps.

He walked slowly over to the kitchen. Again, all tidy. There was none of the usual mess that Hutch made when he prepared breakfast.

Starsky glanced over to the couch to make sure that Hutch was still there before wandering into the bedroom. Hutch’s holster, complete with gun, hung on the corner of the door. The bed was unmade, which was unusual. Hutch always made his bed when he got up.

The hair prickling on the back of his neck from the weirdness of it all, Starsky looked back at Hutch, but he still hadn’t moved.

Finally, he inspected the bathroom. The floor was wet, so at least Hutch showered that morning. That was the first normal thing he had encountered since entering the apartment. He stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror. How he wished that it would tell him what had happened in here.

I still can’t figure out what’s wrong.? Hutch doesn’t seem to be injured, so why is he so out of it? The only thing that I can think of is drugs. But Hutch wouldn’t go down that road after all the pain he went through. Or would he? He’s stronger than the lowlife’s we deal with every day. But is he

Starsky pushed those thoughts out of his head and headed back to his silent partner.

Hutch was where Starsky had left him.

This time, when Starsky touched his hand, his eyes blinked. Hutch slowly came to life, as if an unseen key had suddenly been turned.

“Starsk, buddy, what you doing here? I was just getting ready for my run.”

“Just getting ready for your run! Hutch, it’s nearly 10am.”

Hutch stared unbelievingly at Starsky. “B-but it was only 5:15, when I went for my shower. What happened?”

“Dunno, buddy. That’s what I’ve been asking you for the past half hour. Come on, put some clothes on. How long you been sitting here?”

Hutch looked down, his face a picture of confusion. “Why am I only wearing my boxers?”

Starsky grinned. “Buddy, if I knew that, I’d tell you. You were out of it when I came in.”

“Out of it. What do you mean, out of it?”

Starsky sat down next to Hutch. “You were just sitting here, staring in front of you. Glazed, red eyes. You didn’t even notice when I pinched the back of your hand.”

Hutch looked at him indignantly. “You pinched me! Well, thanks a lot, pal.”

“Hutch, I was trying to snap you out of whatever it was. It was only a little pinch.” Before Hutch had the chance to admonish him further, he asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Hutch looked around and swallowed. “I remember having a shower. I turned the shower off and got out. I went over to the mirror, wiped away the steam and…my face…” He stopped.

Starsky examined him. “What about your face? It looks okay to me.”

“It was grey, everything was grey and black. I…Just leave it, Starsk. I’m going to get dressed. Be with you in a minute.” Hutch jumped up.

Starsky grabbed at Hutch’s arm, but he just shrugged the hand away and headed for the bedroom.

Starsky was astonished at the quick change of mood. What is going on inside Hutch’s head? Do I really want to know?

Starsky walked over to the phone and dialed a number.

“Parker Center,” the operator answered.

“Morning, sweet Mildred.”

“What do you want, Starsky?”

“Just you, honey, just you. Has Captain Dobey had been looking for us?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Mildred said.

“Do me a big favor, honey, and clock Hutch and me in as on the street and rolling from 9am. No sense in upsetting Dobey when we don’t need to.”

“Starsky, you will get me into trouble. You know I can’t do that,” Mildred said.

“Come on, please. If not for me, for Hutch.” Starsky knew Mildred had a soft spot for Hutch. “He wasn’t feeling good earlier, but he’s okay now. Come on, honey, please.”

Mildred sighed. “All right, just this once. For Hutch”.

“Thanks, schweetheart,” Starsky said, doing his best Bogart impression. He had just replaced the receiver when Hutch appeared, dressed in his favourite green pants and green t-shirt. He clutched his tan leather jacket, his knuckles white.

Starsky started to open his mouth but Hutch stopped him with curt, “are you ready to roll? Dobey will be having a cow.”

“No, he won’t. Mildred’s covered for us. Clocked us in as on the street and rolling from 9am. Dobey will be none the wiser. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Now move it,” snapped Hutch as he pushed Starsky toward the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky stumbled through the doorway. He grabbed the rail at the top of the stairs to steady himself.

Hutch looked at Starsky’s back and felt an overwhelming urge to place his hands in the middle of his partner’s shoulder blades and push. Hutch felt his arms rise, an unseen power giving them movement. As his hands connected with their target, Hutch suddenly registered what he was doing.

Starsky missed the top step and his body lurched forward.

Just in time, Hutch grabbed Starsky’s jacket and pulled him back.

Starsky fell against Hutch, causing him to stagger back into his apartment door.

“What the….? Did you just push me, Hutch?” Starsky asked incredulously.

“No. Don’t be silly,” Hutch answered quickly. “I just saved your neck. You missed the step, dumbo. Watch what you’re doing next time, huh? I can’t be Captain Marvel all the time.”

Starsky stared at Hutch dubiously.

Hutch could tell from Starsky’s face that he didn’t quite believe what Hutch had just said.

Starsky stood up and gestured for Hutch to go first.

Realizing that his partner was suspicious, Hutch got up and quietly took the lead. I can’t believe I just did that. What on earth possessed me?

The voice started again. “You will do my bidding, oh light one. Maybe not this time, but soon. The dark one must die, die, die. You belong to me.” Hutch’s ears filled with laughter.

He shook his head and stumbled down the last few steps, ending up spread-eagled on the hallway floor. He lay there gasping, the breath knocked out of him.

“Hutch, you okay? What happened? Did you feel dizzy? What?” Starsky asked, jumping the last few steps and holding out his hand.

Hutch brushed away Starsky’s hand for the second time and gingerly got to his feet. “Enough already with the questions, Starsk. Just missed my step. Your clumsiness must be catching. Let’s get on the streets before Dobey has our butts.” Hutch limped out to the Torino and settled himself in the passenger seat.

Starsky shrugged and climbed into the car. “Where’d you wanna go first? Downtown, or to see if Hug has gotten anything?”

Hutch heard the question, but didn’t answer.

“Let’s go see Huggy.” Starsky fired up the engine.

Hutch slumped in the seat with his head back and eyes closed. I really don’t care where we go. I’m too dangerous for you to be around. I just tried to kill you. Tell him what’s happening. He can help. I can’t tell him. He can’t help. No-one can.

Hutch could feel Starsky’s eyes burning into the side of his head. Don’t look at me like that, Starsk. I can’t, I just can’t.

Hutch was lost in the depths of his mind. A mind that was telling him to kill his best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Starsky pointed the car in the direction of The Pits and stole a sideways glance at his partner. Come on Hutch, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help he pleaded silently.,

The rest of the journey to Huggy’s passed uneventfully. Starsky pulled up around back as usual. He was relieved that Hutch seemed to be calmer now.

Hutch opened his eyes. With a grin, he climbed out of the car and headed for the door.

Starsky followed him. As they entered the bar, Starsky nodded over to the back wall. “Go get that empty booth, Hutch, I’ll get the drinks. What you want?

“Just an orange juice.” Hutch slid into the empty booth and Starsky walked over to the bar.

Huggy was serving a customer, so Starsky waited patiently until he had finished.

“Hey there, Starsky, my man, how’s it hanging?” Huggy asked, turning his attention to Starsky.

“Not good, Hug. Hutch’s acting real weird today. Gimme an orange juice and a root beer.”

“Coming right up. What’s up with my man, Hutch?” Huggy grabbed a couple of glasses.

“Dunno. This might sound crazy, but he just tried to push me down his apartment stairs,” Starsky said, still not quite believing it himself.

Huggy stared at Starsky as if he’d just spoken a foreign language. “Did I hear you right? Hutch just tried to…”

“Yep, you heard, Hug. Like I said, crazy, weird, but true. I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me.”

“Want me to try? He might talk to me. I could take the drinks over, pretend you went to the john or something.”

“Might just work, Hug. I need to go anyway.” Starsky headed for the toilets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Huggy picked up the tray of drinks and walked over to Hutch.

“Hey, Hutch, my man. How you doing? Starsky asked me to bring the drinks over, he’s gone to the john.”

Huggy set the tray down in the middle of the table.

“Good, Huggy, real good.” Hutch’s voice sounded flat.

Huggy looked up from the table and stared at Hutch. Instead of Hutch’s face, he saw the voodoo mask of death. He recoiled and sat heavily down on the seat opposite Hutch.

“Are you okay, Huggy? You don’t look good,” Hutch said.

Huggy struggled to regain his composure. “I’m good, Hutch. Just gonna see where Starsky got to.” He scurried away as quickly as the layout of the tables and chairs allowed.

Starsky was on his way back to the table, when Huggy cannoned into him and dragged him into the kitchen.

“Huggy, what’s going on?”

“Starsky, it’s bad, it’s really bad.” Huggy paced back and forth in front of Starsky muttering.

“Hug, you’re scaring me, what’s bad?” Starsky urged.

“Hutch is bad. I stared into his face, only it wasn’t his face.”

“Huggy, you’re not making sense. Of course it was Hutch’s face, who’s face could it be?”

“Starsky, don’t you see it! Hutch is wearing the voodoo mask of death.” Huggy was scared almost to death.

Starsky laughed. “Come on, Hug, stop putting me on.”

“Starsky, don’t mock the voodoo. I tell you, Hutch is bad. He’s got the mask, and if he’s already tried to hurt you, then it wants you dead.”

“Huggy, where would Hutch get the vood… ” He stopped talking. “Papa Theodore. But he should be dead. Huggy, tell me he’s dead.”

“He should be, but he failed to kill either of you. You were a package deal. That gives him two minds, two chances. You beat him so now he’s inside Hutch’s head. He will only die if you both defeat him,” Huggy said.

“But Hutch tried, and I’m still alive.”

“Starsky, it will only work if Hutch can banish him from his mind. He has to fight him.”

“And how do we get Hutch to do that?”

“That, my friend, is the million dollar question. First, let’s get him upstairs, away from the bar. I’ll tell him you need him, that Dobey is on the phone,” Huggy said.

They left the kitchen together. Starsky turned left to go up the stairs and Huggy returned to where Hutch sat drinking.

“Hey, Hug, thought you were going to find Starsk. Where is he?” Hutch asked.

“He’s upstairs, Hutch. Dobey’s on the phone. Starsky needs you to help calm him down.”

“Guess he found out I was playing hokey earlier. Okay, lead the way, Hug. Firing squad awaits.” Hutch grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Hutch climbed the stairs, the laughter started to echo in his ears again. Go away, please go away, leave me alone.

The door opposite the stairs was open and Hutch could see Starsky on the phone. Starsky motioned to him and held the phone away from his ear.

All Hutch could hear was, “kill him, kill him.”

Hutch walked into the room and stopped. He stood still and stared at Starsky.

Without a word, Hutch reached for his gun. He was aware of what he was doing, but couldn’t stop himself. He was present in the room, but he wasn’t.

Hutch lurched forward as Huggy tackled him from behind and sat on his back.

The bullet missed Starsky. In one fluid motion, he crossed the gap between them and took Huggy’s place on Hutch’s back.

Starsky and Huggy grabbed Hutch’s arms and pulled them behind him, cuffing his wrists.

Slowly, Starsky lifted his weight off his partner’s body.

Starsky moved in front of Hutch and picked up the gun, putting on the safety before he tucked it into the back of his jeans.

Hutch lay still, listening to his friend’s voices.

“Thanks, Hug. I owe you one,” Starsky said.

“You owe me more than one, Starsky. The man had a gun. I could have gotten hurt,” grumbled Huggy.

“I know, and I’m touched that you risked your all to save me,” said Starsky.

“Hey, Starsky, don’t you go telling folks that. I done it for Hutch. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d killed you.”

“Oh, thanks, Hug. That really hurts, man,” Starsky said.

Hutch felt his grip on reality slipping away. The voices seemed to move away, down a long tunnel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch came back to himself to find Starsky hauling him onto the bed, propping him up against the wall. Hutch was stunned to find that his wrists were secured behind his back. He cautiously turned his head and looked around the room, recognizing it as Huggy’s, finally looking into the familiar face of his partner.

Hutch tried to talk but his voice came out as a croak.

Starsky walked over to the sink and filled up a glass. Sitting down on the bed, he held the glass so that Hutch could drink.

“Starsk, I did it again, didn’t I?”

Starsky nodded. “Yes, you did, buddy,” he said softly. “After I restrained you, you blacked out.”

Hutch turned away in disgust. “How can I even think about hurting you? Why can’t I fight it?”

“Hutch, look at me. It’s not your fault. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been there. I would have understood.”

Starsky hooked two fingers under Hutch’s chin and turned his head so that they were eye to eye.

“I’m sorry, Starsk. I’m so sorry,” was all Hutch could manage. “How…? What…? Did I…?”

“Don’t you remember?” asked Starsky.

“No. I know I have to kill you, the voice tells me to. Then I get confused. It’s like I’m watching somebody else do these things.”

“You tried to shoot me,” Starsky said.

“Oh, God.” Hutch was horrified. “It’s getting worse.”

Starsky said gently, “Don’t worry, babe, you didn’t hurt me. Huggy took you from behind.”

Hutch managed to laugh. “Huggy took me from behind. I had a gun. He hates guns.”

“I know. Don’t tell him I told you. He said “he done it for you”,” he quoted. “That you wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt.” Starsky grinned.

Hutch stopped laughing. “He’s right. I’m struggling to handle it now, and I haven’t hurt you yet.”

“And you won’t. We’ll beat that washed out Papa Theodore. But you have got to level with me. Tell me everything.” He moved toward Hutch. “Let’s get the cuffs off first, make you more comfortable.”

“No, don’t. Leave them on, Starsk. That way I can’t hurt you. Promise me you won’t take them off, until we know it’s safe.”

“Hutch, you’ll be so uncomfortable. They’ll start to chafe after a while. Come on, let me take them off.”

Hutch pushed his body into the wall. “No. I don’t care how uncomfortable or how much they hurt. No matter how much I beg, they stay on. Promise me.”

“Okay, I promise. Now spill, all of it,” said Starsky.

Hutch shuffled around a little. The solid wall behind him caused the metal to dig into his back and his wrists. He managed to maneuver himself into a slightly more comfortable position.

Starsky watched quietly.

Hutch saw flashes of pain cross Starsky’s face every time Hutch wriggled to ease the pressure of the handcuffs.

“Okay. Starsky, don’t interrupt. Just let me tell you everything before you open that mouth of yours.” Hutch wet his lips, trying to organize his thoughts. “I’ve been having these nightmares for the past few weeks. Papa Theodore has been there, in my head, laughing and chanting ‘You belong to me, you belong to me’. All night, every night.”

Starsky leaned forward, caught up in the story.

Hutch shifted again, twisting his wrists to relieve the ache. “Each morning, I’ve woken at 5am and that’s been the end of it. This morning was different. I still had the nightmare but when I woke up, he wouldn’t leave.” Hutch shook his head, reliving the horror was more difficult than he expected. “After my shower, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise myself. My face looked like a mask. He was in my head, telling me to kill you. He was laughing and chanting. Making me do things I didn’t want to do. I tried to stop him. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor.” He stopped for breath. “And I remember you touching my hand. And I remember trying to push you down the stairs.” He stopped again. “Oh, God. Huggy saw it, too, didn’t he? In my face, he saw it. That’s why he came to find you. I remember coming up the stairs and you on the phone. Then the voice telling me to kill you-it blurs after that. I hear voices and next thing I remember is you helping me up from the floor.” He stopped talking, and dropped his chin on his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me Hutch? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, buddy, you’re the one who believes in this stuff, not me,” Hutch exclaimed. “I realize how stupid that sounds and how pathetic I sound. The big macho cop who can’t share his inner most feelings with his best friend because he’s scared of feeling weak.” He shrugged, there was nothing else but self-loathing. “Why do I do it? Time and time again, I make the same mistakes. Will I never learn?”

“Hutch, stop it.” Starsky jumped up, pacing around restlessly like a caged tiger. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. We all get scared. You’ve got to trust me more.”

“Starsk, I do trust you,” Hutch gasped. “I trust you with my life every day. I trust you more than any other living being.”

“But you don’t trust me with your inner most feelings.” Starsky planted himself in front of the bed, hands on his hips. “You’ve just admitted that, Hutch, and it hurts. It really hurts.”

Hutch couldn’t bear the pain on Starsky’s face any longer and he turned away.

“Hey, it’s okay, pal. We can beat this. All you have to do is trust me. Can you do that for me?” Starsky asked.

Hutch nodded.

The door opened and Huggy walked in.

“What you got, Hug? Did your friend come up with any useful information? How do we beat this thing?” Starsky said.

“My man thinks that if Hutch has tried to kill you twice and you’re still alive, then the spell should be broken,” Huggy replied.

“How do we know, Huggy?” Hutch asked.

“We don’t. We just have to wait and see what happens.” Huggy waggled his fingers in the air as if dispersing the spell. “See if Papa Theodore comes back. If you hear his voice again, Hutch, then the spell isn’t broken.”

“His hold on me was broken after one failed attempt. Why didn’t it work the same with Hutch?”

Huggy shrugged his shoulders. “Probably, because the Bokor had longer to get in Hutch’s head. With you, it was only a few days. With Hutch, who knows how long he’s been working away inside his head?”

“Thanks for that sobering thought, Huggy. What now, Starsk?” Hutch shifted his body off the wall. His wrists were really starting to hurt.

“I guess we wait. No arguments, the cuffs come off. Who knows how long we’ll have to wait. You can’t stay like that forever,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded his agreement and Starsky unlocked the cuffs.

Hutch slowly pulled his arms forward. His arm muscles protested at the movement. He rubbed his shoulders and then his wrists, praying silently Please God, let it be over.

Hutch saw Starsky look at the deep, red grooves left in Hutch’s wrists by the metal.

“Come on, buddy. Time to log out and head home.” Starsky took Hutch’s arm and gently pulled him to a standing position. “Let Huggy get back to his business.” Turning to Huggy, he asked, “Can you get your friend to see if he can find any way of breaking the spell, apart from death?”

Huggy nodded, “sure, man. I’ll call you later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk was falling when the two men reached Hutch’s apartment. Hutch climbed out of the Torino, trying not to drop the two pizzas boxes he’d had nestled in his lap for the past ten minutes. Starsky had insisted on picking up takeout from his favorite Italian on the way back, although Hutch would have been happy with scrambled eggs. As usual, Starsky had gotten his own way by complaining that he hadn’t eaten all day. This made Hutch feel very guilty and not only had they stopped for pizzas, but Hutch had paid for them as well.

Starsky almost ran into the building. He reached Hutch’s door before Hutch had even gotten his foot on the first step.

Hutch looked up and squinted as the glow from the bare light bulb stabbed his eyes. “Starsky, did this suddenly turn into a race? What’s gotten into you?”

Feigning a very unconvincing smile, Starsky shouted back down the staircase. “Nothing, just felt like I needed some exercise.”

Hutch sighed. Now who’s hiding their feelings, huh, buddy He knew exactly why Starsky had bolted ahead. In a way, he was glad. It took away the temptation.?

By the time he had reached the top step, Starsky had opened the door and was already taking the tops off two beers. Hutch set the boxes on the coffee table and turned on the TV.

The next few hours were spent eating, drinking and watching a ball game, mostly in silence, except for the odd cheer or groan. The game ended in a win for the Lakers.

Hutch stretched his long legs around the coffee table. He had been sitting with his legs scrunched up behind the table for most of the game. A loud yawn escaped from his mouth before he even realized that he felt tired. “I think I’m gonna hit the sack, Starsk. See you in the morning, 8:45am behind Vinnie’s.”

“No, Hutch, I’m staying here tonight.”

Hutch looked him in surprise. “Starsky, I’m a big boy. I don’t need a babysitter.” What he really meant was I don’t want you around me tonight, just in case.

“I know you are, but I had a few too many beers. There’s no way I’m driving home tonight.” Starsky held Hutch’s stare, challenging him to object.

Hutch caught the meaning in Starsky’s expression and bit back his retort. “Okay, the couch is yours. I’m off to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky watched Hutch disappear into the bathroom. He really had expected more of a fight from his buddy.

He pulled the spare blankets from the chest at the bottom of Hutch’s bed and had just finished making up the couch when Hutch walked from the bathroom to the bedroom.

To Starsky’s surprise, Hutch just ignored him and closed the bedroom door. He had at least expected a goodnight. He shrugged. Okay, two can play at that game, pal.

He used the bathroom and made himself as comfortable as possible on Hutch’s old couch. Hutch always complained it was a back breaker, but he wouldn’t buy a new one. He probably couldn’t afford to because of the money he had spent remodeling Venice Place. He had replaced the half open partition between the bedroom and the living room with a solid wall and door. Starsky was still getting used to the fact that Hutch now had a private bedroom.

The phone rang just as Starsky was drifting off to sleep. “I’ll get it,” he shouted to Hutch.

Getting no response, he leaned over and grab the receiver. “Starsky.”

“It’s Huggy. I called my man again, like you asked. Got him to do more research and his source told him that the Bokor’s hold on a mind can only be broken by death, or the link being severed in the throes of the kill.”

“What? You mean that if Hutch tries to kill me again, I have hurt him first? No way, Hug. I can’t deliberately harm him.” Starsky frowned at the phone, gripping the receiver until his knuckles went white.

“Think about it, Starsky. When you tried to kill Hutch, you both ended up in the water. The shock of the fall or you being submerged broke the spell. You have to shock Hutch somehow, snap him out of the Bokor’s control.”

“Thanks, Huggy. I’ll take it from here.” He slammed the receiver down and lay on his back. The last he wanted to do was inflict pain on his buddy. Closing his eyes, he hoped he wouldn’t have to make that choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch changed into a pair of pajama pants and sat on the edge of his bed. He stared at the metal cuffs in his hand.

If Starsky won’t protect himself, then I have to do it for him.

Hutch had left the key in his jacket pocket in the living room, out of reach. He would have to shout for Starsky to free him in the morning. But all that mattered was Starsky’s safety. He clicked a cuff around his right wrist and lay down on his back. He reached both hands above his head and after struggling for a while, managed to hook the free cuff around the head of the bed and secure it to his left wrist.

Too late, he realized that this was not the most comfortable way to spend the night. He could barely move and his wrists had already started to hurt.

He considered shouting for Starsky to release him. No, I’m doing this for you, buddy. Your safety is more important than my pain Hutch settled into the most comfortable position he could find and tried to sleep. He could hear Starsky’s snores coming from the other room. Eventually his tired mind and body succumbed to sleep..

Papa Theodore invaded Hutch’s dreams.

“No, no, go away. Please leave me alone. He’s my friend. I can’t, I can’t”

The voice in his head relentlessly chanted “You belong to me, kill him, you belong to me, kill him.” The laughter reverberated inside his skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little after 2am, Starsky turned over and fell to the floor. “Huh, what?” He sat up and realized what had happened. He grinned and climbed on his hands and knees back onto the couch. Just as he was getting comfortable again, he thought he heard a noise from the bedroom. But when he lay still and listened, all was quiet. He drifted back to sleep.

“Please, please, leave me alone. Go away, go away!” Hutch’s feverish pleas cut through the silent apartment.

Starsky jolted awoke, hearing the cries from the bedroom. He tumbled over the back of the couch and lurched for the door handle. “Hutch, Hutch, are you okay?”

When Starsky opened the door, he froze at the sight before him.

Hutch’s body and face gleamed with perspiration. He babbled incoherently, the veins on his forehead pulsated from the pressure within. He was bucking, his body twisting and writhing on the bed, arms cuffed securely to the bed head. His wrists were covered with blood and the white pillows stained red.

“Hutch, what have you done?” Starsky said in disbelief. He grabbed Hutch’s arm to wake him, trying to hold Hutch’s body still that he wouldn’t fight so much and increase the damage to his wrists. Nothing worked. Hutch was well and truly trapped in his nightmare. Papa Theodore controlled his mind.

“Hutch, where’s the key? What the hell have you done with the key?” Starsky shouted.

He frantically searched the drawers in the bedroom and checked all of Hutch’s pockets in the closet. Standing in the bedroom door, Starsky scanned the living room, spotting Hutch’s tan leather jacket on the chair. He pounced on it and hurriedly checked the pockets, his hand closing around a small key in the left one.

Starsky leapt over the couch and rushed back into the bedroom.

Hutch’s constant movement, the limited space, and blood made it difficult for Starsky to get the key into the lock, but he finally managed to unlock the cuffs.

He left Hutch on the bed and went into the bathroom for some towels to wrap his mangled wrists.

On his return, he found the room empty. Starsky dropped the towels onto the bed and turned around to see Hutch standing behind him, wide eyed and staring.

“Hey, Hutch, where yo…” Starsky stared at the cleaver in Hutch’s right hand. “Hey, buddy, what you need that for?”

He backed away as Hutch walked toward him with the cleaver raised, ready to attack. Starsky’s knees hit the bed and he sat down abruptly.

“Hutch, stop! You don’t want to do this. It’s me, Starsk. Hutch, no.”

With a low mutter, Hutch launched himself at Starsky.

Starsky managed to grab Hutch’s wrists before the cleaver came down on some part of his vulnerable anatomy. His fingers slipped on Hutch’s bloody skin and Starsky struggled to hold his partner at arm’s length.

“Hutch, please, stop. It’s Starsky! Starsky! You don’t want to do this.”

Starsky knew the time had come for him to help Hutch take back control of his mind. Starsky had no choice, he brought his feet up under Hutch’s body and pushed with all his might into Hutch’s belly.

The force sent Hutch flying backward and his back and head slammed into the wall. He slumped unconscious to the floor with the cleaver still clutched in his bloody hand.

Starsky dashed to Hutch’s side and quickly pushed his fingers against Hutch’s neck. To his relief, he found a strong pulse. Cradling Hutch’s limp head, Starsky pulled him onto his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I had to do this.” Starsky bit his lip and closed his eyes. He hated what he had just done.

Very gently, he prized the cleaver from Hutch’s clenched fist and threw it into the living room. He scrambled backward and pulled his partner’s dead weight across the floor and onto the bed. Arranging Hutch more comfortably, Starsky wrapped each wrist in a towel. He had to get help!

Getting the phone from the other room, Starsky dialed the emergency operator. A deep groaning sound stopped him dead. Dropping the phone, he ran back into the bedroom.

Hutch was still laid on the bed, but he was rolling his head from side to side. He stopped moving as Starsky approached.

Starsky moved very slowly. He didn’t want to frighten Hutch. He also wasn’t sure how Hutch would react to him.

The dazed man blinked and tried to focus.

“Hutch, are you okay?” Starsky asked cautiously. “I was gonna call for an ambulance. You need medical attention, buddy.”

Hutch’s eyes flickered. “W-what happened?”

“You took a tumble, buddy. Knocked your head.”

“No, no ambulance. I’m all right.” Hutch shook his head and gingerly raised himself up, resting on his right forearm.

He noticed the towel wrapped around his right wrist and looked from one wrist to the other. “What the..? Why are…?” His face darkened bitterly. “I remember. Where are the cuffs, Starsky?”

“I took them off, Hutch. Your wrists were bleeding.” Starsky flicked a hand at the bloody pillowcases. “That was a dangerous thing to do. Why didn’t you tell me what you had planned?”

“Because you would have stopped me. I was protecting you,” Hutch spat, struggling to sit up against the head of the bed. He swayed but stayed upright.

Starsky stood in the doorway.

Hutch looked at him. His anger at Starsky’s actions evident on Hutch’s face. Then his expression changed and his jaw dropped open.

Starsky flinched at the horror on Hutch’s face. He followed Hutch’s gaze to the cleaver with the bloody handle on the floor in the living room.

“Hutch, it’s okay. It’s your blood. You didn’t hurt me,” Starsky assured him. How many times have I said that recently? How much more of this can we take “We need to get you to a hospital. Your head took a real whack and those wrists need to be cleaned and dressed.”?

“No, no hospital. You do it. There’s a first aid kit under the sink in the kitchen. Everything you need is in there.” Hutch lay back down, turning away from his partner.

“In the kitchen? Most people keep their medicine in the bathroom.”

“Starsk, don’t you know that more accidents happen in the kitchen than the bathroom?” Hutch explained, as if talking to a child. “The first aid kit is in the kitchen, the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

Starsky laughed. “Yeah, I guess you are okay, pal. I’ll be one minute.” He went into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards. Finding a bowl big enough to hold water, Starsky filled it at the sink. Then he rooted out the first aid kit and put it under his left arm.

He carried the bowl and first aid kit back carefully into the bedroom and placed the bowl on the bedside table.

Sitting next to Hutch, Starsky opened the box and took out gauze, bandages, antiseptic cream and cotton swabs. He took Hutch’s right hand and carefully unwrapped the towel. Thankfully, the blood hadn’t fused the towel to the skin. He wet some cotton swabs and gently cleaned away all the dried blood.

Hutch sat very still, twitching occasionally when the swab hit raw skin.

Starsky was happy to see that the damage wasn’t as bad as he first thought. Although the skin was broken and bleeding, he’d originally envisioned totally mangled flesh. He squeezed the tube of cream and spread a thick layer around Hutch’s wrist.

Hutch tried to pull away, his eyes screwed tightly shut when the cream stung the wound.

Starsky tenderly grasped Hutch’s wrist and wrapped it with the gauze, securing the bandage with tape. “That’s not too tight, is it?” he asked.

Hutch just shook his head.

Starsky repeated the process with the left wrist. “How’s your head feel?”

“Aches.”

Starsky felt around the back of Hutch’s head, his fingers probed the skull gently.

Hutch flinched as Starsky brushed over a large bump.

“You should get that checked out. It’s pretty big,” Starsky suggested.

“Starsk, I’m fine. I just need a couple of aspirin, that’s all.” He stood up and swayed.

Starsky grabbed him. “Hutch, sit down. I’ll get them.”

Hutch slumped back onto the bed with a frown.

Starsky bent over and picked up Hutch’s feet, swiveled him around until his whole body was on the bed. “Lie down,” he commanded. The bloody pillows were still heaped to one side, against Hutch’s back. “Stop, wait a minute.” Starsky reached behind him and threw the top two pillows onto the floor, rearranging the rest. “Now lie down.”

Hutch eased back against the pillows.

Starsky ran into the bathroom, scared to leave Hutch alone for too long. Not knowing what his partner was going to do next had Starsky’s stomach churning. If only he’d tried to find out more about voodoo. He’d thought they were safe once they were back in Bay City. Papa Theodore was dead and they were alive. Was the Bokor’s spell broken or not? Within seconds he was back by Hutch’s side.

Hutch raised his head wearily. He took the aspirin and the water that Starsky held out to him. With one gulp, he swallowed the tablets and half the water before leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Hutch, don’t go to sleep? Not after that knock on the head.” What Starsky was most worried about was Papa Theodore getting Hutch when his defenses were down.

“Just resting my eyes, Starsk. Don’t worry, I won’t go to sleep. I don’t dare!”

Starsky lay down and pulled Hutch to him, cradling Hutch with one arm. “Hey, babe, we’ll work this out. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky was the first to wake. Blinking, he looked over at Hutch. No, no. How could he have gone to sleep? Why had he let Hutch sleep? They must have slept for hours. Damn, damn Sunlight streamed in through the window, lighting the whole room..

Hutch slept peacefully, curled up in the middle of the bed.

Perched on the edge, Starsky slid off the bed, moving slowly so that he wouldn’t disturb his partner.

Starsky noted with surprise that for the first time since this nightmare started, Hutch looked relaxed. His face had regained it’s usual glow and he was smiling in his sleep. Starsky glanced at the clock and saw that it was 8:23. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and went into the bathroom. Starsky had a quick wash, shaved and dressed.

Heading for the kitchen, he stopped to pick up the cleaver off the living room floor, and threw it in the sink. Grabbing the dirty coffee pot off the stove, he washed it under the tap. Reaching up to a nearby shelf, he spotted an empty hook among Hutch’s cooking utensils. He swallowed, that must be where Hutch got the cleaver from. He pulled down a can of coffee and scooped fresh grounds into the pot. He replaced the pot on the stove to boil and opened up the cupboards to find something that he could eat.

“Hutch, why don’t you ever have any real food in this place?”

Starsky jumped when a voice behind him said, “I do have real food, Starsk. My food, not the crap you eat.”

“Hutch, how you feel, buddy?” Starsky asked, watching warily as Hutch approached. He still thought that Hutch should get medical treatment for his head wound, if nothing else.

Hutch grimaced. “I’m okay. My head aches and my wrists hurt, a lot. But apart from that, I feel fine. Are you okay? Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Hutch, I told you, you didn’t hurt me. I hurt you, and I’m sorry about that.” Starsky said, stretching up to grab two coffee cups. “And I know I said not to sleep, but exhaustion beat us both. You slept peacefully for a few hours.”

Running his fingers through his tousled hair, Hutch appeared thoughtful, as if digesting Starsky’s statement, “Well, I do feel refreshed. Do you think Papa Theodore’s gone?” Hutch looked inquiringly around the room, and his eyes settled on the cleaver.

The trancelike look on Hutch’s face unsettled Starsky. He shifted his gaze from Hutch to focus on the object that held him transfixed. The blade was streaked dark red and pink where splashes of water from the tap had diluted the blood.

Starsky shuddered. “Hutch, please don’t mention his name again.” Starsky slammed two dishes onto the counter top. The noise jolting Hutch back to reality. Starsky sighed with relief as the glazed expression disappeared, and Hutch fidgeted with the belt of his bathrobe. “Granola?” Starsky asked, snagging the box from the cupboard.

Hutch caught Starsky’s left wrist, holding tight. “Stop it, Starsky. We need to be sure I’m safe to be around.”

“I know,” Starsky said quietly, “but this is voodoo and we don’t know the rules. Hug called last night. His friend figured I had to shock you, hurt you, when you were trying to kill me. Well, I sure as hell managed to do both.” Anger boiled in Starsky as he remembered his actions. He could still hear the thud when Hutch slammed into the wall.

“Let’s analyze this. I feel different. Peaceful. I didn’t wake up sweating. I can’t hear Papa Theodore’s voice in my head.” Hutch smiled, “and I certainly don’t feel the urge to kill you.”

Starsky hugged Hutch. “Yes, I think he’s gone. We did it, pal. We made it. We won, he lost.”

Hutch winced as Starsky’s arms folded around him, but he didn’t pull away.

 

THE END