Entering the dark apartment Starsky walked over to the couch and slowly sat down while Hutch turned on a light and settled himself into a closeby easy-chair. He leaned forward and looked at his partner.
"We've got to talk for real, Starsk."
"I know," Starsky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been wanting to for hours, and now ... I don't know how to start."
"How about we're both miserable?"
Starsky tried a weak smile, but it fell away. Head down, he said in a hushed tone.
"Everything's turned around, Hutch."
"I know....things aren't right. That's why we're here now, okay?"
Starsky nodded but said nothing more.
"You've had a bad time of it lately, partner. But things get better."
He got no response.
"You know that, don't you?"
Starsky looked up and studied Hutch's expectant face. He wanted to erase that look, lie and say that he did think things would be alright. But it was too difficult anymore to try and live up to any lie.
He stood up and went to the window, looking out into the night sky.
"I'm so tired." He finally said, quietly.
Hutch watched and waited in stillness from his chair.
"When I was in New York with my mother, watching everything that happened to her, watching her go down....after a while things started to go black...." He faltered.."I...uh.." He stopped again and kept his gaze out the window, looking as if he wished he could escape through it.
"Starsky..." Hutch whispered, "tell me."
The lull continued til Hutch saw him straighten a little.
"I started feeling like I wanted to die too." He lightly shrugged. "...on good days I did feel dead inside."
Hutch shuddered. I did this to you too, didn't I?, he thought.
"But then you came out, you were there and walked me through everything." He finally turned back to look at Hutch. "I never thanked you for that."
"Buddy..Starsk, you never had to."
Their eyes held for a long time, then Hutch watched a cloud of despair drop quickly over Starsky's face.
"I forgot to thank you, Hutch." He choked out.
Hutch rose and quickly crossed the room. He put his hands on Starsky's shoulders and peered closely at the tormented face, the dark eyes shimmering with tears.
"Starsky, that doesn't matter..."
"Yeah, it does!" He cried back."I'm sorry, Hutch. That's what's wrong with me. I'm in this....pit."
"I know you're depressed."
Starsky squeezed his eyes shut and the tears spilled out and down his face.
"I don't wanna feel like this anymore. I don't know what to do."
"I'm right here, partner." Hutch urged.
Starsky strained his anguished eyes away.
"Do you think you're alone, Starsky?"
"Look at me." Hutch gave the shoulders a gentle shake and when their eyes met he spoke in a low and steady voice. "When you're hurting like this...I am too. When you're scared of something, I'm shaking right beside you. And when you're happy, Starsk, I'm happier."
Starsky was fixed , childlike, on every word.
"That's the way we are. Except I found out I can be a real nasty piece of work....and that's not in you, partner. You know, when I screwed up with us a while ago I wasn't thinking straight at all and I blew myself out of the water too. I got real down about what I did.....I'm picking myself up, Starsk, but without you by me I'll never be the same person...I'll never be whole again."
Hutch paused, checking the emotion that had crept into his voice
"You've got to let me help you get through this. See? You need me like I need you." Then his voice did break. "Don't you know that by now, Starsky?"
Starsky sank under these words and he reached towards his partner. Hutch wrapped his arms around him and he began to softly cry on his shoulder, but the loneliness that was working its way out was vengeful and soon his body was heaving, his loud sobs filling the room.
"It's okay." Hutch's tears ran into the dark curls that he pressed his face against. "It's okay," was all he murmured over and over again, holding Starsky tight, squeezing him tighter as the pain pierced through his own heart on its journey.
They stood under the window a long time like that, giving and taking without a word what they needed from each other, until Starsk's grief was almost spent. Then he still clung to Hutch fiercely. Eventually his breathing deepened and the hard grip he kept on Hutch softened.
Starsky eased himself back from Hutch's embrace but they remained close, heads resting heavily against each other, hands on shoulders.
"Don't ever leave me, Hutch. I wouldn't make it."
"I won't, partner. I'll always be here." After a moment he added.
"Whatever happens, no matter what, you always remember that I love you, Starsky."
Starsky raised his head and feebly tried to smile through his wet eyes.
"I love you too, Blondie,...loved you before I met you."
"Always, okay?" Hutch smiled back.
"Forever."
Chapter 5
It was almost two weeks since Starsky and Hutch had spent half an evening looking for each other and meeting on Hutch's doorstep. They'd put in a lot of extra hours catching up on their caseload, and now the days on the job were, for the most part, back to normal. It was late in the morning and they were at their desks doing yet more necessary paperwork. Hutch was looking out of the corner of his eye at his partner as Starsky read a finished report. He'd been staring at it for quite some time now.
"Hey, Starsk. Don't understand your own prose or what?"
"Huh? Oh no...." He pushed his chair back and stood. "I guess it's as good as it gets. I'll go slap it on Dobey's desk while it's safe."
Hutch watched him return from the empty office and sit back down, pulling another blank form from an pile.
"Quit looking at me, Hutch. You're makin' me nervous."
Hutch grimaced and turned back to his own paperwork.
"Okay." He said. "Hey, what are we doing for lunch? I want to try that new deli on Fort Street. I think even you might like it. There's a special heathen section on the menu."
"Sure. Just gotta put in one more of these and we can vamoose."
They were both engrossed at their desks when a man appeared and stood in the squadroom doorway, scanning the room. His eyes settled on Starsky and he crossed over to the unseeing detective. He read the nameplate on the desk.
"Detective Starsky?"
Both heads looked up.
"Mr. Blake!" Starsky rose and they shook hands.
"I hope I'm not bothering you." He was nervously spinning a hat in his hands.
"No, you're not. ..This is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. Hutch, this is George Blake."
Hutch reached out as he stood up and took the hand extended to him.
"Nice to meet you, sir...I'm very sorry about your son."
"Thank you." He hesitated then enquired to Starsky. "Can we talk somewhere? It won't take long, I promise."
"Sure." Starsky spun his head around to see if the coffee room was empty. "Come on in here. No one will bother us. Hutch?"
"I'll watch the door."
And Hutch did sit staring the closed door, wondering what was being
said behind it and worrying once again about his partner. For the most
part, Starsky seemed to be over his depression. There had been periods
in the last few weeks when Hutch saw the melancholy settle on him and he
would seem to fade for a little while. When the house in New York sold
quickly Starsky
took the news stoically and was untalkative the rest of the day. But
that night at his apartment Hutch sat on the couch and grinned as he listened
to his partner yell over the phone to Nicky about the costs of real estate
commissions and taxes. He hung up exasperated but enlivened again. His
setbacks were all but gone now - and if he still seemed a little too lost
in his thoughts at times Hutch's voice was all it took to bring him gratefully
back to the present.
Hutch wished he could be in the room with his partner.
"Do you want a coffee, Mr. Blake?" Starsky offered, holding the coffee pot.
"No, thank you. I really won't be that long, Detective."
"Okay." Starsky put the pot back on the burner and took a chair across the table from where the older man sat. He waited for him to start.
George Blake stared at his hands on the table a moment before he spoke.
"I've been looking for you. It wasn't easy. I'm sure you gave me your name...that day, but I couldn't remember it. They wouldn't tell me your name when I asked at your Headquarters downtown."
"No, they don't give out policemen's names if any of the public asks for them. It's for our own safety." Starsky stopped himself.
If Mr. Blake noticed his poor choice of words he didn't show it.
"So," Mr. Blake continued, "I've been going to various precincts looking for you. And now..here you are."
"I'm glad you found me." Starsky replied sincerely.
Mr. Blake regarded him with kind but sad eyes.
"Detective Starsky, I've come to apologize to you. What I did that day..."
"You don't owe me any apologies, nothing at all."
"But I do. I've never done anything like that before in my life." He paused, eyes downcast. "Losing my son...so suddenly...I didn't..I couldn't believe you."
He looked up again and met Starsky's attentive face.
"I reacted horribly, and it wasn't til a few days after the funeral that it struck me what I'd done."
"Mr. Blake, you reacted like I probably would under those circumstances. No one could blame you for what you did."
"That's very kind of you." He smiled gently. "But you were only doing your job, and not a pleasant part of it. I wanted you to know that I do regret the difficulty I put you in. Please...accept my apologies, Detective."
He stood up and reached his arm across the table. Starsky rose and clasped the hand in a long shake.
"I do, Mr. Blake. And thank you very much for coming to see me. I..I hope you're coping..." He was at a loss to find the right words.
"I'm back to work. I have to keep busy. I've decided to sell the house. Mark's gone...and it's hard to live there now."
He smiled at the silent detective. "I'll find my way out. Thank you again for seeing me."
"Mr. Blake..?" He turned back at the doorway. "Take care. Take good care of yourself."
"I will." And he was gone.
Starsky had sat back down and was staring ahead when Hutch entered the room soon after.
"Starsk? How did it go?"
Starsky slowly turned his face towards him. He sighed. "It was okay. He wanted to apologize for comin' at me that day at his house."
"Poor guy, huh?" Hutch took the chair Mr. Blake had just occupied.
"Yeah..you know, he's a real nice guy too, a real gentleman."
"I could see that."
Starsky frowned as he organized his thoughts.
"It seemed real important to him that he see me, and say what he did."
"Are you okay, Starsk? You're alright with this?"
"Don't worry," he responded with a slight smile. "I'm fine. I think it helped Mr. Blake to find me, in some little way. I'm real glad he did."
Hutch just sat and regarded his partner with fondness.
"Come on," Starsky said as he rose and headed for the door.
"Let's finish up and get to that deli. And if you don't quit staring
at me, I swear, Hutch, you're going to be sittin'at a different table."
The End
EpilogueIt was well past midnight. They were both sitting on the floor in Hutch's apartment, Hutch leaning against the couch with his guitar in his lap and Starsky slumped against the matching chair. Empty beer bottles were haphazardly lined up on the coffee table. Long since fed up with making trips to the refrigerator they'd put the case of remaining beer on the carpet closeby.
"Okay," Hutch took another sip and put the bottle down beside him. "I'm John," he instructed, "you're Paul."
"You're John again? You're always John." Starsky complained, his words a little slow and slurred.
"I'm taller. I have the guitar. It only makes stense, Sarsky."
"Well.....fine. It's Paul the girls love anyway."
"There you go. Okay..." Hutch seemed lost. "Now...and don't BURP in middle of this one!"
With that they both went into another hysterical fit of laughter. Starsky fell sideways onto the floor making choppy high-pitched sounds while Hutch slid over too, almost choking on his funny little gasps. It was a minutes before they were sitting up again, wiping their eyes and taking deep, composing breaths.
Finally settled down again, Hutch picked up his guitar.
"Come on, I hear the girls screaming. Ready?"
"Nope, hold on." Starsky took a quick swallow out of his bottle.
"Okay...hit it, John."
Hutch placed his fingers on the strings of the guitar then looked back up at his partner. Eyebrows raised, mouthes slightly open, they waited through the first few chords to start in unison....
Two of us riding nowhere, spending someone's
hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving, not arriving
on our way back home
We're on our way home,
we're on our way home,
we're going ho-o-o-ome