To Maria and Laureen: my mentors, for their continued support and lessons. A Post Sweet Revenge Story
NINE DAYS
(situated after "Friends First")
He looked his mirror image in the eyes and suddenly all he could feel and see and think about was an
overwhelming blackness. A bottomless pit. A black hole. Nothingness. Emptiness. He was alone.
So alone and no one, not even his best friend, would or could understand just how hollow and empty he
felt right now, as the depth of today's news finally sank in.
Nor would or could he possibly understand what pain was now settling in every pore of his being.
He faltered and steadied himself by holding on to the sink.
A dizzy spell washed over him. Dizzy like so often since the shooting - or was it different this time?
He didn't know anymore. He couldn't think or remember. There was just emptiness and an overwhelming
silence. He was alone and no one would or could understand; no one would or could help.
He sat down on the toilet seat and stayed there motionless, staring into space, for two hours----
Finally he woke up from his stupor, went through the mechanics of brushing his teeth and changing
into his pajamas. He skipped dinner and went straight for the bedroom where he plopped on his bed.
There he remained motionless for the rest of his sleepless night.
DAY TWO
Hutch woke up "the day after" and - for the umpteenth time - went over yesterday's news.
Starsk won't make the review board's requirements ---- disability ---- maybe not even a part-time
desk job.
He turned over to look at his alarm.
Dammit!!! 7.45 already? I forgot to set my alarm!
He jumped out of bed and began his morning routine. After his shower, while making breakfast,
he checked the calendar he'd stuck to his fridge with a magnet. The calendar with all of Starsky's
physical therapy dates and times.
Early morning session today or ---- does yesterday's news mean his PT is over? ---- Nah! Well?
I'd better call and find out.
He dialed Starsky's number but no one picked up. He dialed again but still without luck.
He's probably in the shower. I'll just drive over there.
Just before leaving his apartment he called one last time. Still no answer.
Hutch drove over to Starsky's with a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He arrived at his friend's apartment and found the curtains still drawn.
He knocked fervently on the door, but no response.
Come on, Starsk! What's the matter?
He found the spare key and entered. It was eerily dark and quiet.
He walked over to his friend's bedroom and found Starsky there, lying motionless on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Hutch immediately picked up the emotions his friend was feeling now.
So different from yesterday, when Starsky had been the one to help him cope with the news.
He quietly walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge close to where Starsky was.
Starsky didn't even blink.
"Hey buddy. I've called a few times. Got a bit worried when you didn't pick up ---" he said in a soft, warm voice.
No response. Starsky still only stared at the ceiling.
If you're trying to convincingly pass for a corpse, you've won the Oscar, buddy!
Hutch realized the depth of the pain his friend was experiencing and his mind feverishly searched for a
way to help Starsky open up to him.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" he tried.
Starsky sighed deeply and his eyes found those of Hutch.
The look in Starsky's eyes caused an involuntary shiver in Hutch.
So cold, so empty, so void and expressionless as he'd never thought possible, was the gaze in his best
friend's usually so expressive eyes.
Finally Starsky spoke; his voice as flat and emotionless as the look in his eyes.
"Aren't ya supposed to be at work?"
"No, not yet. I thought I'd stop by first to see how you were doing, after you didn't pick up the phone."
Starsky made a sudden move to get out of the bed, but as Hutch was sitting on his covers, he was stuck
where he was and just glared up at Hutch.
"I'm fine!" he tucked at the covers some more.
Hutch got the message and stood up, allowing Starsky to get out of the bed.
"You've got an early session today, so I thought I'd ---"
"I'll drive myself today --- Why don't ya go to the station --- ya don't wanna be late." he said, just as emotionless as before.
"Starsk are you sure you're up to ----" he wasn't entirely comfortable yet to let Starsky drive longer distances by himself. Besides, he so wanted to be there for Starsky, especially now that he realized the seriousness of yesterday's news had finally sunk in with his best friend.
"Get goin', Hutch! I'm fine. I really don't need ya to hover over me anymore, ya know?
Ya don't live her anymore, remember?!" Starsky snapped.
I'm so sorry, buddy. Let me in to help you, please----
Hutch looked forlorn at his partner who was in such agony now, both physically and mentally.
Still he knew that indeed, now was not the best time to force his support on Starsky.
So he nodded his head, gave a faint wink to his friend and looked him deep in the eyes one last time
before turning and leaving.
At the bottom of the stairs that led up to Starsky's apartment he looked up at the window, then walked
over to his car and left.
I hope you'll have settled down enough by lunchtime, Starsk, because I'll be back.
I have to ----
Starsky had been awake for most of the night.
His whirling thoughts only interrupted by short moments of restless sleep, when he became too
overcome with fatigue to fight the Sandman.
He peeked from behind his curtain at Hutch who stood at the bottom of the stairs to his apartment
looking up worriedly before driving off to the station.
"Good riddance," he said out loud, in a defiant tone and walked over to the bathroom to relieve himself.
After that, he picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste and started his morning ritual.
Halfway through he suddenly started trembling and, before he knew it, a few sobs escaped his throat.
He was crying, and it shocked him. He hated the idea of caving in.
Throughout the entire aftermath of the shooting he had never cried. Sure, he'd become very emotional
and tears were quick to well up in his eyes, but he'd never really cried.
Never. Not until now.
"NO! No, Goddammit!" he yelled in between sobs. He fought ferociously to gain control. And succeeded.
After he'd shaved he stepped into the shower stall. His victory over his emotions was short lived. Again, out of nowhere, this immense urge to cry bubbled up, and he couldn't suppress it, only protest it.
His tears were almost as abundant as the streams of water that came out of the shower and were accompanied by Starsky's screams and animalistic sounds of despair, embarrassment, hopelessness, fear and anger. His wet war with his emotions lasted a full half hour and instead of his shower getting him fresh and ready for a new day, his outburst left him physically and emotionally drained.
He staggered out of the stall and leaned heavily on the sink where he stood until the shivering subsided.
By then, the steam on the mirror had cleared and - like yesterday - he looked at his image.
This time his eyes not only saw his face, but the scars that covered his body as well.
He traced them on the mirror with his finger, until the mirror stopped.
Again the sobbing began.
He growled and spat out at himself,
"Stop it!!! Ya gotta stop!!! Dammit!"
Another animalistic scream of sorts left his throat.
"Jesus Christ - whassamatter with you?"
With clenched jaw, he inhaled deeply through his nose a few times before looking back at his mirror
image again, this time with a hard look of defiance in his eyes.
They ain't gonna get me under! Pull yourself together, sissy boy! Life is no party!
Life sucks and then ya die. You'd better make the most of it. Now get with it!!!!
His mental pep talk helped for now. He got dressed and motivated himself enough to start breakfast.
He'd succeeded to get himself on the right track again mentally and puttered around the house.
He drove over to physical therapy and managed to keep his emotions under control.
This was probably the first time he was not honest with Moses.
During one of the exercises Moses tested the emotional waters, asking,
"So, how are you today, huh?"
Sweat pouring over his face and back, Starsky swallowed deep and grunted,
"I'm okay. Couldda been better, but hey, what'cha gonna do, right?"
"You sure?" Moses probed a bit further, fully aware his friend and patient was putting up a brave front, yet just as aware to let Starsky set the pace for accepting comfort.
"Yeah --" Starsky sighed, the intensity of the exercises taking everything of his concentration.
"When you need to talk, ya know where to find me, right?" Moses offered.
"Yeah, sure --- I know," Starsky smiled briefly at Moses, but inside just wanted everyone to stop hovering.
The therapy session ended, as always, with a relaxing massage and shower.
Starsky felt better, yet still mangled, as he waved Moses goodbye and drove back to his apartment.
Soon it was lunchtime and Hutch stopped by for the second time that day. He was relieved to see
Starsky's spirit seemed to have picked up considerably. Yet, he was still hesitant to bring up the
topic of yesterday's news. Luckily for Hutch, Starsky took that task away from him. While they were
having their sandwiches at Starsky's dinner table, he said,
"Hey? About this mornin'? ----"
"Yeah? What about this morning?" Hutch asked casually.
"I uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snappin' at ya --- haven't slept that well --- ya know ---"
Oh I know, buddy, I know Hutch thought to himself while at the same time smiling warmly at
Starsky.
"That's okay --- feel better now?" he decided to leave the pace for releasing information entirely up
to Starsky.
"Yeah --- 's okay. I's just --- I needed ta --- ya know?"
Starsky obviously was not able to express his innermost feelings yet, but as always Hutch understood he should be patient. Starsky would turn to him eventually, like always.
"Yeah --- I know," he answered softly.
"As long as you know ---" he offered, no more words needed.
"I do. I know ---" Starsky replied and that was all that needed to be said for now.
After Hutch left for the station, Starsky was alone again with his thoughts.
The day dragged on into the night.
Hutch called to apologize that he wouldn't be able to make it for dinner since an interrogation was
taking longer than expected and could even take most of the night.
Starsky ate in front of the TV and was getting quite depressed again, until he switched on a medical channel and saw a documentary about polio victims. As the children and teens affected by polio paraded by on the screen, a few, stray tears fell silently from his eyes.
He inhaled deeply at the end of the documentary, wiped away the wetness from his eyes, and softly
said to himself,
"And you think you're havin' a hard time? Get a grip. You're doin' just fine ---"
Determined to make the most of his fate, his spirit lifted considerably and when it was time to go to bed he was relaxed and quite happy again and soon drifted off in a well-needed, peaceful sleep.
DAY THREE
Hutch called in the morning to check on him, as usual. "Yes, mom! And I ate my vegetables too!" he teased. "What's so funny, Gordo?"
"Nothin', you're such a ---" he chuckled again as a warm feeling washed over him.
"Such a what?"
"Nothin' bad, don't worry 'bout it! So, what'cha doin' today?"
"Well, have to finish up the reports on Markham ---" Hutch replied.
"Oh yeah?" Starsky asked excitedly. "Oh, 'round 1.30 AM -- it was a bear!"
"Yeah, no kiddin' --- what else?"
"Huh? Oh, well, the reports, then a meeting with the DA about that hassle with the security at the
holding tank down at Metro, remember?"
"Yeah, ya told me --- any chance of ya makin' it to the Dobey's for lunch?"
"Oh, Rosey's gonna watch you today right?"
"Very funny! Well, are ya?"
"I don't know, Starsk --- I'll keep you posted - it all depends on that meeting, you know?"
"Yeah, okay --- well, gotta get to PT -- I'm gonna pick up Rosey from school afterwards and drive
straight to Dobey's, just so ya know."
"Okay, I'll call in later --- have a great session!"
"Yeah --- see ya ---" Starsky smiled as he put down the receiver.
Starsky was up in every sense of the word.
Today he was going over to the Dobey's after physical therapy, to watch Rosey and a few friends as
Mr. and Mrs. Dobey had an appointment at Cal's highschool. His rapport with the little Dobey girl
was excellent and to the Dobey family, both he and Hutch were more like extended family.
It especially pleased him that the Dobey's had enough confidence in his abilities since the shooting,
to entrust him with the responsibility of driving their little girl around and keeping an eye on her and
her friends.
"Hey, how're you doing? Did you sleep well?"
The relief in Hutch's sigh was palpable and made him chuckle.
"When did ya get home?"
It felt so much like old times and contributed to his sunny outlook on life today.
On his way to the Dobey's, with three little grade schoolers in the back seat of his car, Starsky smiled
as he listened to their chattering conversation.
He'd had a fantastic physical therapy session, and all the bad news was nearly forgotten.
All of a sudden he had to make a quick maneuver to avoid colliding with a truck that came barreling down his side of the road. The girls in the back seat shrieked, Starsky yelped, and behind them they could hear the sound of a crash.
Starsky hit the breaks after pulling up to the curb and gasped for breath.
Shit -- I pulled somethin' he thought while it felt like Norman Bates was doing the best impersonation
of his mother, knifing him repeatedly in his back.
He grunted, just when Rosey hung over the back seat and called into his ear,
"Dave! That truck hit another car - behind us!!! Maybe someone needs an ambulance!
Maybe we have to call Hutch or someone!"
Her little girlfriends were babbling excitedly in a non-stop stream of gibberish.
Starsky couldn't really make out what they were saying. His ears were ringing and his heart was beating
ferociously and worse yet, he was in so much pain it took every effort for him not to scream out loud.
Goddammit --- what the? I fucking pulled somethin' -- but what? Oh man, not today---
Behind them, at the scene of the crash, a large crowd of highly excited people had gathered.
Officially I'm still an officer of the law --- I gotta take action ---
"Dave? Are you all right? You don't look so good," Rosey said timidly as she studied the thin film of perspiration that was beginning to form on his forehead.
"Whassat? Oh, it's nothin', Rosey -- I'm fine," he managed to grunt, while reaching for his microphone.
Right now he was very grateful the Torino still had a transmitter on board.
He cleared his throat, pushed the button, and said,
"Zebra 3 to Central, Zebra 3 to Central, come in please."
After a moment Mildred, the head operator of the call-in center replied,
"Central to Zebra 3, is that you Hutch?"
A faint smile crossed his face,
"Nah, Mildred, 's just me, Starsky."
"Starsky???" It was impossible not to detect the surprise in her voice.
"Yeah, listen hon, I ain't got time for chit-chat, I'm on Elm right now and there's been a huge accident back at the intersection of Elm and Jefferson --- could ya send out some units and medical vehicles?"
"Of course, immediately. Are you all right, Starsky?"
"Yeah, I'm fine -- just a witness 's all," he closed their conversation and sat up.
He looked in his rear mirror and saw the crowd. His instinct told him to go over there and see about
the condition of the victims involved. It looked like a good six hundred feet from where he'd parked
the Torino and in all honesty, he felt like he wouldn't even be able to walk six feet. So he started the
car's engine again to make a U-turn back to the location of the accident.
"Where are we going, Dave?" Rosey asked in wonder, still not convinced her friend was really feeling well.
"We're --- I'm just gonna have a look to see if ----" he inhaled sharply as he made another wrong move that caused a sharp jab all the way across his chest.
"Dave!" Rosey exclaimed, her little friends looking in wonder in the back seat.
"'s Okay, Rosey --- I just gotta make sure how those people are doin'," he managed, just as they arrived across the street from the accident.
With considerable effort he got out of the car, then - grimacing with pain - leaned into the window
and told the girls,
"You girls stay put! Don't move and don't touch anythin' -- I'll be right back, ya hear?!"
He counted on Rosey whom he knew to be a very responsible girl.
He straightened himself, took a few deep breaths, or as deep as the continued jabs of pain allowed him
and - as casually as he could muster - walked over to the accident scene.
Dammit, I ain't got my shield with me!
He put every effort into standing straight and putting on an authoritative tone as he summoned the
crowd.
"Okay, folks --- make room --- Police officer, make room please!"
It worked, people slowly stood back and looked at him, a tad curiously.
Starsky was well aware he might look strange.
He could feel the perspiration on his face and the stiffness of his movements.
Luckily he could already hear sirens approaching.
He peered into the car that was hit by the truck. It didn't look good.
A young man sat slumped over to his right side, and as far as Starsky could see, he had at least a
head wound and a broken left arm. Meanwhile the first ambulance had arrived.
A man pulled at his sleeve, causing another jab of pain to flare up.
He gasped as he spun around to face the man.
"Officer? The driver of the truck is practically hanging on his windshield wiper --- he was launched
through his windshield, could you take a look?"
He looked up at the truck and grimaced. Right now he was just happy to be vertical and now this man
wanted him to climb up to see how the truck driver was doing?
"I uh--- the medical personnel will take a look at that, sir, if you'd just tell them, all right?"
A second ambulance had arrived as well as two black and whites.
Starsky leaned against the car and checked his watch. He should have been at Dobey's already.
Suddenly he felt a familiar touch to his shoulder.
"Starsk?"
He turned his head, the only part of his body that didn't hurt - yet - and stood face to face with his
partner.
"How did you get here?" he asked.
Hutch chuckled.
"Never leave the daughter of a police captain alone with a transmitter ----" he said while looking across
the street at the Torino.
Starsky looked amazed, then made a face.
"Oh terrific -- now everyone knows I wasn't worth a damn in a crisis," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind," Starsky said as they were asked to move away from the crushed car.
Moving away stiffly, he knew Hutch would immediately pick up on his condition.
"Hey, Starsk? Are you all right?"
Bingo.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't look so hot -- you weren't in this accident, were you?" Hutch asked in sudden panic.
"No! Will you get off my back!" Starsky snapped. He looked furiously at Hutch -- then read the
concern in his partner's eyes and his expression changed to an apologetic one.
"Sorry -- didn't mean ta --- nope, but I got the willies there for a while --- the truck came straight
at us, so I had ta get out of the way --- I guess we were lucky," he ended in a soft voice.
"Oh, man! No one hurt? All the girls all right?"
"Yeah --- they're fine, just a bit overexcited."
"How did you get hurt?" Hutch probed.
"I'm not hurt!" he protested.
"Yeah, and the tooth fairy really exists. Come on, Starsk. How did you get hurt?"
He glared at Hutch, then sighed and admitted,
"I dunno, I think I pulled somethin' tryin' to get outta that guy’s way ---"
It took all his pride, but the girls' safety came first.
"Hutch -- would ya mind driving us over to Dobey's?"
Hutch understood how bad Starsky must be feeling if he was willing to swallow his pride in public.
He nodded his head and softly said,
"Sure --, come on, let me lock up my car, and we'll go."
While the girls stepped into the Dobey living room, Hutch finally could address Starsky who was
obviously compromised. Under his breath he asked,
"Just where exactly are you hurting, Starsk?"
"It's ---" Starsky began his denial.
"Shut up, and just tell me, will you?!"
"I dunno, my back, my side, my lung ---- you take a pick!" Starsky snapped in a whisper.
"I musta made a wrong move or somethin'."
"Have you got your pills with you?"
"What do you think?" Starsky hissed at Hutch as he glared at him.
"Lookit, I'll just sit down for a bit, and it'll just ---"
"Go away? Yeah right," Hutch interrupted. He sighed and took in the playing girls.
"Let me get the girls some sandwiches --- when will Dobey be back?"
"Uhm, I dunno, three? Four? --- I'm gonna have dinner here, too," Starsky replied in a strained voice.
Again Hutch sighed. He exchanged a look with Starsky, who seemed to be only upright because he was
leaning against the door.
"Look, I'll get you to the couch, and then I'll --"
"Nah --- the girls!" Starsky interrupted. He didn't want to be seen as weak or compromised. He'd had it with that image that had hung around him ever since the shooting robbed him of his independence.
Hutch shook his head, looked at Starsky and then turned to the girls,
"Hey ladies, what do you say we go into the kitchen and you help me fix ourselves lunch, huh?
Do you want to give me a hand?"
The girls responded with enthusiasm and followed Hutch into the kitchen.
Meanwhile Starsky composed himself and straightened up.
Hmmm, 's not as bad anymore - I think --
Starsky slowly and carefully made it over to the couch, then decided against sitting on such a low
surface and chose a chair at the dining table.
Rosey walked in quietly from the kitchen.
"Are you okay, Dave?"
He opened his mouth to reassure her, but she beat him to it.
"You know? I think I'm going to take Sharisa and Evonne up to my room and you can just have a
rest on the couch in the den --- I think that's better."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
No! Not now, dammit! Don't you fuckin' dare lose it now!
He managed to keep the tears from flowing, swallowed hard and rubbed Rosey's arm.
"Ya know, pumpkin? I think that sounds terrific! That's a great idea."
Rosey gave him a loving smile and - before returning to the kitchen - whispered to him,
"You know? We'll use the other door -- we're gonna play with Barbie -- that's not boys stuff anyway,
so you won't miss anything."
After the little girl left, the first tear descended down his face.
Is this it? Is this my future? Am I gonna be some overly sentimental fart who'll get tea and cookies
on a tray and needs his nap every afternoon? Good God! Don't tell me this is it!
He wiped the few tears away with force, causing his face to become blotchy and red.
He heard Hutch and the girls going upstairs where they would be having their sandwiches.
A few minutes later he heard Hutch coming down the stairs again.
It was 2.30 PM.
Hutch stood before him and had that certain look about him.
Oh terrific -- the look. Is this the way he's always gonna be lookin' at me for the rest of my miserable
life? Pity --- is he gonna feel sorry for me forever? God I'd love ta smack that look off his face ---
No --- I don't mean that --- of course I don't --- God, what the hell is happening to me?
Hutch knelt down before Starsky, fully aware of the struggle his friend was going through at this very
moment, though not aware of its depth.
"Is the pain bad?"
Starsky sat up straighter and to his surprise felt the pain was more subdued now, just a lingering
feeling of discomfort where earlier sharp jabs had robbed him of his breath.
"Nah --- 's almost gone now," he answered, his voice sounded congested as if he had a severe cold.
"You want me to stay?"
"What else can ya do, dummy? Ya left your car back at Elm, remember?"
Hutch chuckled.
"Oh yeah ---"
The door opened and the Dobeys arrived back home with their son, Cal.
They immediately sensed there had been a crisis.
"Hutch? I'm surprised to see you here?" Dobey inquired.
"Is everything all right?" Edith Dobey asked.
The look in Starsky's eyes made Cal Dobey realize he'd better leave the grown ups alone, so he excused himself and went upstairs.
"Where's Rosey?" Edith asked.
"Oh, she's playing with some friends, upstairs," Hutch replied in a soft voice.
"Are you all right, Dave?" Dobey asked, concern all over his features.
Oh, terrific. It's "Dave-time" again. God dammit, how long is this --- is this the way it's gonna be from now on? Everybody makin' excuses for me, cos I'm a pathetic gimp?
Before Hutch could start telling the story Starsky began.
"Lookit, Cap, Edith --- I uh -- we almost had an accident on our way home from school."
Edith gasped, and Captain Dobey put his hands on his hips.
"Some truck driver came at us in our lane, and I had ta swerve to get out of his way.
He hit another car behind us, so the girls were kinda shook up. No one got hurt, just excited."
He looked up at the Dobeys with a rather guilty expression on his face.
"What are you doing here, Hutch?" Dobey repeated his earlier question.
"I uh --- I ---" Hutch stammered, not wanting to embarrass Starsky, but not wanting to lie to the Dobeys either.
Starsky stepped in.
"I had to check out the accident site, so I left the girls in the car and -- well, apparently Rosey radioed
for Hutch to come meet us there at the scene -----"
The Dobeys had heard enough. They knew their little girl was extremely concerned about and committed to Starsky's health and immediately guessed her action must have been a result of her witnessing something wrong with her friend.
"Are you all right, Dave?" Edith asked.
"I'm fine, thank you," Starsky managed and suddenly he couldn't bear all the empathizing, concerned
looks anymore.
"I uh -- Hutch, I'll take ya back to your car --- ya still gotta put in some hours," he changed the subject
as he pushed himself up from the chair.
The Dobeys and Hutch were flabbergasted at his sudden desire to leave.
"But Dave, I thought you were going to have dinner wi---" Edith started.
"Uhm, I'm sorry --- raincheck?" Starsky offered, while pulling Hutch by his sleeve toward the door.
Reluctantly the Dobeys gave in and watched as the two detectives got into the Torino.
Hutch in the driver's seat -----
Hutch had followed Starsky as he drove the Torino back to his apartment.
After the two men got out of their respective cars, he walked toward his friend.
"I'm going to call in that I'm not going back today. I don't think you should be alone tonight," he told Starsky.
That was a mistake.
Starsky's sullen expression immediately changed to an infuriated one.
"What the hell does that mean? Are ya afraid I'm gonna do myself in tonight?"
Shit --- this goes way deeper than I thought it did!
Hutch's concern reached its boiling point.
Starsky wouldn't --- no, he couldn't be suicidal, could he?
He breathed deeply to be able to say in a warm, soft tone,
"Don't be silly! I'm just concerned about whatever it is you think you pulled this afternoon, that's all!"
It worked.
Suddenly Starsky looked intensely sad and embarrassed at the same time.
Then he looked down at the ground and said while shrugging his shoulders,
"I must be pregnant --- I dunno what the hell's wrong with me, Hutch, I'm sorry for ---"
Hutch pulled Starsky into a hug.
"Yeah, blame it on your hormones."
They both chuckled, although Starsky's chuckle sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Hutch held on to him to give him time to compose himself, knowing Starsky would hate to shed a tear
even in front of him and would prevent that from happening if at all possible. In fact, the only time in
recent years he'd seen Starsky cry was when Terry had died.
They went upstairs together, and Hutch called the station. Starsky took some pain medication, and Hutch persuaded him to take a nap on the couch.
While Starsky lay sleeping, Hutch quietly called Dobey and explained everything. From the news that he'd heard three days ago, to his mood swings and his apparent depression.
"Does he need professional help, Hutch?" Dobey asked.
"I don't know, Cap. I think he'd refuse it."
He sighed.
"I don't want to leave him alone, Captain."
"I'll take you off the roster," Dobey said with a sigh.
Then, in a softer voice he ended the conversation,
"Take good care of Dave, Hutch."
"Yes, sir." Hutch put down the phone and sat down to study his sleeping friend.
The two friends had dinner together, did the dishes together, and by nine o’clock were so worn out from the day's events, they decided to turn in early. Hutch got out the pillows and blankets he'd used so often in the past half-year or so and Starsky retired to his bedroom.
Neither of them woke up until the next morning………………
DAY FOUR
While the early morning sun fell through the cracks of the blinds in the living room, Hutch was already
busy in the kitchen, making breakfast as quietly as possible. He heard the paper hitting something downstairs and opened the front door just in time to see the
paperboy riding off on his bike. He descended the stairs to pick up the paper and breathed in the
slightly chilly, but wonderful morning air. "Morning! Did you sleep well last night?"
Starsky smiled at him. He looks good. Let's see how long it will last Hutch thought to himself. "Are you ready for some scrambled eggs and hash browns?" he asked cheerily.
Starsky's eyes opened wide in wonder, then a little boy face-splitting smile took over his face and
made his eyes sparkle, almost like in the pre-Gunther days. "Oh, a while ago." Hutch kept as close an eye on his work in the kitchen as on his partner.
They had breakfast together and just exchanged chitchat, like none of the drama of the past few days
had happened. They cleared the table together, did the dishes together, and nothing seemed out of
the ordinary.
Hutch was beginning to feel confused. After they'd both showered and got dressed, Hutch wrecked his brain on how to get out of the status
quo. But, first things first.
"What time's your PT today?" he asked in a light tone.
"I don't got PT today," came Starsky's answer in just as light a tone.
No PT? Hutch walked over to Starsky's PT calendar which, just like at his own apartment, was
stuck to the fridge with a magnet.
"Of course you do. Here it is. Thursday, 11 AM. We should get ready."
"I'm not goin'."
Silence.
"What?" Hutch looked at Starsky in insecure wonder.
"I said I'm not goin'." Starsky said it clearly and in a confident tone.
"Why not? Did Moses cancel?"
Starsky got out the vacuum cleaner, plugged it in, and began vacuuming.
Oh no, you don't! Hutch unplugged the vacuum cleaner and asked again, Starsky looked at the floor before looking at Hutch, And touchdown! God give me strength ---- "Well, looks like I just did," Starsky answered matter of factly and wanted to plug the vacuum
cleaner in again.
Hutch took the cord out of his hand and looked him straight in the face. "But I'm not getting any better anymore. Don't ya see that?! I'm done. This is it! "Don't give up on yourself, Starsk! You may not improve enough to pass the review board's
requirements, but you can still improve and have a better quality of life!
To be able to do more for yourself!"
"Oh, I see. I gotta keep goin' so I'll be better at playin' Monopoly, or pickin' my nose, or
hey, vacuuming the house!" "You need to go on, Starsk, for your own good. Look how far you've come!" "Yeah, terrific. I can sit around the house all day, take my pills, and watch the day go by. Now Hutch had had it with his friend's self pity. This was not the Starsky he knew. He dropped the cord on the floor and grabbed Starsky by the shoulders. Starsky sent Hutch an ice-cold look, and then said in a quiet voice, Oh my, God --- I've made it worse! Could it be he feels I'm having doubts about his progress? "You have no idea what I feel -- what I'm goin' through --- have been goin' through
since this whole ---- goddamned mess began!" Starsky spat out, while standing with his back turned to Hutch. "But Starsk, I ----"
"You can't even begin to know what it's like, what's the right thing to do ---
I don't even know what to do ----"
It's now or never ---- God stand by me ---- Starsky didn't respond or move. Hutch walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. "This --- this is what's on my mind ---" came Starsky's muffled words.
"What's that?" Hutch asked in wonder.
Starsky's muscles tensed beneath Hutch's hold and he scrambled to free himself from the hug. Let me make the right choice -- Starsky relaxed for a brief moment --- confused. "You want your dignity, your manhood back? Fight me. Be a man. Be the man you want to be again --
get it back. Fight me."
"That's stupid!" Starsky grunted.
"Then stay weak --- wallow in self pity and be the gimp you detest to be ---
I thought more of ya, Starsk."
"That's stupid --- shut up!"
"What? Your ears too delicate to hear the truth?"
Starsky began struggling, just as Hutch had hoped. "Oh, should I be scared now? Me, scared of a nose picker? I don't think so ---"
"This is reverse psychology --- I ain't fallin' for your trap ---- call me anythin' ya like, it's not gonna
work."
"Well, let me get your tin can ready then, because the review board's going to meet in less than two
months, and they say disability won't pay all the bills, you'll have to hit the streets selling pencils ----"
"You're not gonna get me ---- just give up."
"Give up? That's more your style, isn't it? You think your dad would be proud of you?" Starsky began to struggle ferociously. Starsky managed to pull himself out of Hutch's grip and started lashing out at him. Hutch stood there and didn't fight back. While a few silent tears ran down his face, he endured the weak
but determined fight his partner dished out. He found his voice and softly encouraged Starsky. After fifteen minutes Starsky all but collapsed into Hutch's arms, panting as if he'd just ran a
marathon, all of his body heavy and sore. Hutch had to practically drag him over to the couch where
they both plopped down heavily.
A few minutes later, Hutch's tears had dried, and Starsky's breathing slowly began to return to its
normal rhythm.
"You okay now?" Hutch softly inquired.
"I hate you."
"That's okay --- as long as it makes you feel better."
Silence, before Hutch gave it another go. "I feel like I got hit by that truck yesterday ---" Starsky grumbled.
An attempt at humor --- I think we're on the right track ----
The phone rang. Before he could answer it, Hutch had to move Starsky, who was half lying in his lap. "Yeah? Oh hi, Moses!" Hutch looked over at Starsky who gestured he didn't want to talk to anyone. With an affectionate smile Hutch looked over at Starsky who, while he was sitting up again, returned
a shy smile.
"Okay --- sure -- of course. We'll let you know. Later." Hutch hung up the phone. "Better ---"
"Oh, that's great."
"But I still hate ya!" Starsky said, but the look in his eyes as he turned to face Hutch showed his real
feelings of gratitude.
"I hate you, too." Hutch answered with a wink.
He'd checked on Starsky earlier and found his partner blissfully asleep, looking so relaxed and peaceful.
When he returned to the apartment he found Starsky in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Yeah, like a babe," and took a sip of his steaming coffee.
After yesterday he was now fully aware of Starsky's fragile mental state.
"Yeah, I'm ready! That's terrific!" he sat down at his dinner table and picked up the paper.
"When did you get up, that ya got that goin' already?" he asked his partner.
Are you putting up a brave front, Starsk? Are you just playing you are all right so that I will leave for
work and you'll just come crashing down after I've left? How can I make you open up to me?
"Why not? What's going on, Starsk?"
"Because it ain't goin' nowhere, that's why! I'm not makin' any progress anymore, so I'll just quit,
okay --- no point in going on with somethin' that's not workin' anymore."
"Starsk, you know just as well as I do that your PT is not just to improve your condition, but to
maintain it. You're in the middle of building up your strength. You can't just stop that!"
"What are you doing, Starsk? Huh? Haven't we had this conversation before? You can't quit.
You have to go on to get better!"
It ain't gonna get any better --- don'tcha remember?!" Starsky raised his voice.
Starsky pulled back the cord from Hutch's hands only to have Hutch pull it right back again.
Hutch heard himself say the words that he, in all honesty, did not believe himself.
Considering you've been receiving PT for close to five months now, I can see why you're not motivated
to go on!
That's about it. Let me baby-sit your kids, and they almost end up dead in traffic!"
Despite his own ambivalent feelings regarding the results of Starsky's therapy, he knew Starsky could
not afford to lose his optimism and confidence.
"Now you listen to me, Starsk. I won't let you do this to yourself. Don't talk yourself down like this.
You've come a long way and if it hadn't been for your daily PT you'd still be lying flat on your back or,
best case scenario, sitting in a wheelchair. So cut this bullshit and snap out of it --- it's not easy, it's not
without pain, but it does have a reward at the end: your well-being! You deserve the best you can get,
but it's not going to be handed to you on a silver platter. You have to work for it!"
"Don't talk about stuff you know nothin' about ---" he wiggled his way out of Hutch's grip and slowly
walked away from him.
Hutch came to his senses and a growing panic took hold of his being as he watched Starsky's lethargic
body language. All the spirit he'd displayed this morning was gone.
"Starsk ---"
"So don't you dare tell me what I should or should not do --- "
"Then at least let me help you find out!" he pleaded softly.
"You set the pace, Starsk, and I'll follow. You know I'm here for you, always ---
I can't stand to see you hurt like this, buddy --- I feel so ---- helpless.
Please let me in, and let's fight this dragon together --- please ---"
"What do you say, Starsk? Let's do this together, huh? Let me in, please ---
Let me know what's on your mind ---"
"This, THIS!!! You -- everybody treatin' me like I'm some sorta --- some sorta --- invalid!
Some precious piece of china to be extra cautious around! Like I haven't been stripped of my dignity
enough already!"
Hutch held on to Starsky with more force. Then, hoping his "tough love" would work, he said,
"Well, if you don't want it -- break free! Get back your dignity --- fight me."
"Whaddaya mean?" he asked in between gasps.
"Shut up, Hutch, I'm warning ya ----"
Hutch bit his lip as soon as those words had left his mouth. I shouldn't have said that ----
"You goddamned son of a bitch! How dare you?! That was some fucking low blow, Hutch --
I hate you -- I fuckin' hate you!!!!!!"
Blind with anger, sorrow and frustration, his wild moves were not at all up to the strength he'd once
possessed, nor did they hit target as much as he intended to. But he did hit Hutch several times, with
all that his condition allowed him to give.
God, it took you long enough to break down, didn't it? All the medical staff who've treated you had
predicted this crisis so many times - and each time they were wrong. Your spirit never really wavered.
Not until now, it seems.
Have I done the right thing? Have I messed you - us - up forever? Please say it ain't so ---
"Let it out, Starsk, that's right --- let it all out --- you have a lot of stuff to unload
before you can go on. Let it out --- let it all out ---"
"You feel better now?"
Starsky was now resting on the couch, totally wasted, but in a considerable better place mentally, than
one hour ago.
"Yes, I know he missed his session."
Again Starsky gestured fiercely instructing Hutch not to tell Moses what had happened.
"Yes, I'm sorry -- but I think he's had plenty of exercise this morning."
"He didn't push to find out why you didn't make it today --- he didn't push to find out if you would go
to PT tomorrow. He only asked me to let him know when you'd come again ---" Hutch said as he
walked over and sat back down next to Starsky on the couch.
"So, how do you really feel now?" he probed again.
They'd had enough of soul cleansing for one day and just gave each other some space.
Hutch called Captain Dobey to let him know he and Starsky needed more time, and Dobey acquiesced
and kept Hutch off the roster again.
After a few hours Hutch suggested they go out to the park and just enjoy the early fall.
After some insistence Starsky agreed.
Not many words were said for the rest of the day as the friends just worked through the morning crisis individually, while walking side by side through the park.
They walked for over an hour at a slow pace, sat down for a while so Starsky could rest, and then walked for another hour.
They bought some bird food and totally unwound and relaxed while feeding the birds at the pond. They joined some kids who were throwing a frisbee around for a while and had the greatest time.
Then Hutch jumped in to help a little boy who'd climbed up a tree and couldn’t make it down by himself.
The boy's mother had approached Starsky, who was closer to the child, first and Hutch had watched the
pair of them walk off to a nearby tree. He could see how Starsky got hold of the lowest branch and tried
to pull himself up, but lacked his usual strength and agility to make it past the first branch before sliding
out of the tree again.
Hutch then joined them as soon as he noticed the change in Starsky's demeanor.
Again the happy smile on his face was replaced by a defeated expression.
"Could you please try and climb up there again --- he needs help to get down!" Hutch could hear the young woman ask Starsky.
"Well ---- ma'am, I uh --"
"What seems to be the problem?" Hutch interrupted, giving Starsky a reassuring smile.
"My son, my son climbed up that tree there -- and now he's afraid to come down --- If I weren't pregnant I'd climb up after him myself ---"
Hutch studied Starsky closely.
Dammit --- don't tell me this puts us back at square one again?!
"Sure, I'll give it a whirl," Hutch exclaimed lightly.
He winked at Starsky before swiftly making it up the tree close enough to grab the boy.
He gave the child instructions and soon enough he climbed down with the boy sitting on his back.
When he jumped down the tree and released the boy to the ground he looked at Starsky, who had
been watching the spectacle with a melancholic look on his face.
"Here you go, trooper--- now next time, ask for help first, before attacking a mighty oak by yourself, okay?" he ruffled the boy's hair and said goodbye to mother and child, before turning to Starsky.
"You okay?"
Starsky rolled his eyes.
"Ready to go home?"
"Yeah ---" came Starsky's soft reply.
Back at his apartment, Starsky's mood once again deflated, they were back in the rut of silence, each of the friends lost in their own thoughts.
What can I do, Starsk --- what can I do to help? How can I approach you without turning you away
from me? What can I do?
Hutch studied his friend as inconspicuously as possible.
Meanwhile Starsky was fighting his own demons.
What the hell is the matter with me? Why can't I get over this?
Why do I end up in this black hole over and over and over again.
Look at him tryin' ta get me goin' again.
Why do I keep pushin' him away?
He's the best pal I have --- what the hell is the matter with me?
Am I selfish? Am I really wallowing in self-pity?
That ain't me --- I always go on --- what the hell's happening to me?
Tonight was not the night to talk just yet.
The only words they uttered anymore were "Goodnight" and "See you in the morning."
DAY FIVE
Then Hutch picked up the phone and called in to the station to say he would still not come in.
When he put down the phone, Starsky asked, "Do what?"
"Tell them you won't come in?"
"We're not done here, yet."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on, Starsk --- we need to talk. We need to get to the core of this --
whatever it is that's on your mind."
"Oh we're not back to that again, are we?!" Starsky spat out, annoyed.
"You ready to go back to PT today?" Hutch asked, raising his voice too.
"Get off my back about PT --- just let it go!"
"Starsk!" Hutch raised his voice. "A shrink! Ya want me ta talk to a shrink? What am I, crazy now? Hutch threw his hands up in the air and left for the bathroom.
Starsky remained in the living room, sulking.
When Hutch came out of the bathroom he immediately walked over to retrieve his jacket and keys.
Starsky looked on in wonder. Hutch stopped dead in his tracks. With his back turned to Starsky, one hand on the doorknob, he sighed
and finally said, "What do you mean?"
Hutch turned around, tears welling up in his eyes, and said in a hoarse voice, Then Hutch turned and walked out the door, leaving a numb and flabbergasted Starsky on his couch.
Hutch quickly started his car but didn't drive further than one block.
They started the day as they had ended the day before, in silence.
They avoided each other's looks and quietly went through the mechanics of the morning rituals.
"Why did ya do that?"
"This has got to stop! Maybe it's time you talked to La Rue or someone ---"
The crazy gimp, is that how you see me?
Boy, I knew ya didn't see me as before but is this how little ya think of me now?
Some basket case? Thanks a lot, buddy boy!"
"Where are ya goin'?"
"I can't do it anymore, Starsk --- You just won't let me help you. ---- I need some space for myself --
I'm out of options ---"
"You're wearing me out, Starsk --- if you want to quit, just quit -- but don't let me watch you do it ---
you mean too much to me for that ---"
He parked his car near the curb and stopped the engine. He just sat there while the traffic passed by.
His head was thumping, his heart was racing, and he felt like screaming his lungs out of his body.
Instead he just sat in his car, like a statue.
How can a guy who kept me going through all the rough times these past months, just give up
after all the hard work --- after all he's achieved so far? He still has such a long way to go --- if
he gives up now-- he won't just not make it back to the force --- he may even need weekly help just to
keep up his apartment! I never thought he would lie down and rest until he had at least regained his
independence-- what the hell else can I do to make him go on? Why am I so adamant to have him continue
PT? Do I even want him back on the streets? To catch another bullet and undo what little he's
been able to gain back after fighting for his well being all these months ---
I want him to function --- but do I want him to get well enough to hit the streets again?
Jesus Christ -- how the hell did we end up in this mess?
Meanwhile, back at his apartment, Starsky had gotten up from the couch and had stood in the center
of his living room for a while, staring at his front door.
But no matter how long and hard he looked and wished, Hutch did not return.
An hour passed, and then he couldn't take it anymore. He picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Mom, it's me."
"What's wrong, Davey?"
Leave it to mom to immediately sense everything.
"Are you crying?"
He wanted to deny, but he could see the drops landing on his lap. He wasn't even aware he was crying.
Dammit, I'm such a wuss --- I need help!
"What happened, Davey?"
He fought to compose himself, and then answered his mother's question.
"I'm in a mess, mom. I don't know what ta do anymore."
Rachel's heart cringed as she heard the despondent tone of her son's voice.
"Talk to me sweetheart, from start to finish, and don't leave anything out."
He sighed. He felt slightly humiliated. A thirty-two-year old man calling his mom, hoping she could take
away the pain like she used to do when he was a kid. But he had no option; he had to unload.
"Mom, looks like I'm done bein' a cop. Moses told me my condition is such that --- well, that I won't
meet the review board's requirements to make it back on the force."
"But can't they give you a desk job?"
"The way he told it, I might not even be up for that --- Anyway ---"
"When did he tell you this? Today? And when is this review board gonna test ya?"
"He told me Monday, mom. I'll be tested in December."
"Oh, but then you still have time to improve and you ---"
"Mom, that's the point! Moses told me I haven't improved for close to a month now --- it's like status quo --- I dunno. Anyway --- I thought I could handle it, ya know? But --- I think I'm just beginnin' ta realize I really got to think about switchin' careers -- ya know?"
He sighed and his mother waited patiently on the other side of the line.
"You know I always wanted to be a cop, well, pretty much always.
I never really even considered bein' anythin' but a cop --- I got no idea what else I could do ---
and it's been eatin' me, ya know? All I can think of since I heard is --- nothin' --- I can't focus,
I can't concentrate and worse yet --- I've been takin' it out on Hutch ---"
"Sweetheart --- you're in mourning. Ya were just told you can't be what you really want to be anymore, of course, you're out of sync. I'm sure Hutch understands. Let him help ya get through this rough spot. He can help ya think about your future -- "
"Ma, ya don't understand --- he gave up on me --- I --- I pushed him away --- didn't want to --- but I just can't think straight --- he's gone, and I don't think he'll be back ---- "
"Of course he will. Listen sweetie, you two have had some big fights before, for so many months now. Ever since you were --- remember I've witnessed some of them? You're one lousy patient and you drove us up the walls plenty of times. Did we ever leave? And if we did, did we not return?"
"Ma, this is different --- he walked outta here, and it's just different than before -- I can feel it."
"Did ya want him outta your life?"
"No, of course not! What kinda question is that?"
"Do ya want him to come back?"
"What did I just say, mom?!"
"Do ya need him to help ya sort things out, to help ya?"
"Yes I do, but ---"
"Then swallow your pride --- You're not the man you used to be -- tough as that may sound -- you're not. Let him help ya be the best you that you can be now --- go to him. Get him back. Apologize and ask him to come back. Let him help ya, Davey --- no one can do it alone."
He knew she was right. He knew he'd called her knowing beforehand she'd say what she'd just said.
Still here he was experiencing feelings of humiliation, self-pity, denial and defeat.
Yet, also the beginnings of acceptance.
He knew he had to let go of Dave Starsky P.G.-- Dave Starsky Pre Gunther.
That man had died and a little over fourteen minutes later this new man, this new Dave Starsky, had started
breathing.
"Davey?" his mom's voice sounded across the connection.
"Yeah--- you're right mom. Thank you --- I'm gonna go find him right now."
"You do that, sweetheart. Be careful. You call me tomorrow and tell Hutch I want to talk to him, too. Bye Dave." And she hung up.
He waited for another moment before putting on his jacket and getting into the Torino, on his way to Venice Place.
He didn't have to drive far, because just a block away from his apartment, he could see the tan, beaten
up LTD of the man he was looking for, parked by the curb. He parked his car behind it, got out and
walked over to Hutch's car.
He leaned into the passenger window and asked,
"Mind if I join ya?"
Hutch quietly shook his head.
Starsky got in and pretended not to notice the traces of dried up tears on his partner's face.
While looking through the windshield, he sighed and then said in a soft voice,
"I owe ya, Hutch. I owe ya an apology. I've been a real asshole and I dunno what else to say about that.
You're my best pal, and I hate to be the one ta make ya hate me ---
But lately I don't seem ta be able to be anythin' but a prick. I'm sorry --- I just --- I --- I'm sorry."
A long silence followed during which both men were fighting to keep their emotions under control.
Then Hutch said,
"Why don't you lead the way? I'll drive right behind you ---"
Starsky turned to face Hutch and found him looking at him with a warm, yet tired smile.
He's back --- thank God he's back--- he forgave me!
Starsky smiled at Hutch and got out of the LTD.
They drove over to Starsky's apartment, took off their jackets, got out some beverages and made themselves comfortable.And they started to talk. They talked for hours on end, followed by long silences.They yelled and made accusations --- they denied and lied, to themselves and each other.
They confessed and made up ---- and they talked and talked and talked -----
DAY SIX
"Midnight?" they exclaimed in unison.
"Sheesh --- did we just talk the entire day away?" Hutch asked in wonder.
"Forgeddabout that --" Starsky said, He walked over to the kitchen and began rummaging through the refrigerator.
Hutch followed him and was amazed at the spectacle --- even coming from Starsky. "I still got some steaks in here -- can you make that salad of yours? ---
I should still have some of those vegetables ya snuck in here ---" Hutch rolled his eyes. Starsky put two big steaks on the kitchen counter and began seasoning them.
"Well, I guess that's exactly what you're going to do," Hutch mumbled, then sighed and began
looking for the vegetables.
Soon the apartment smelled deliciously of baking steaks, and the two friends drank a beer each in
anticipation of the meal.
Hutch studied Starsky as he was turning over the steaks in the frying pan. When they'd first entered Starsky's apartment and had settled down with a drink, there had been an eerie,
uncharacteristic silence between them.
Then Starsky had been the braver one and had made the first move. "Oh, Starsk! You don't have to ---"
"I do! Everything and everyone has been focused on me for so long now --- no one remembered you ---
what this situation musta done to you --- you were a witness Hutch. And as much as I hate to be in the
position I'm in now -- the condition I'm in now --- I don't think I could bear having been a witness ---
In a way --- you're wounded, too." It had taken every effort from Hutch to push away the mental images of seeing Starsky on the concrete
of the police garage, while the life literally bled out of him.
They were still talking when they faintly heard the clock strike in the background and both men counted
the strikes.
"We forgot ta eat ---"
"Starsk? You're not --- what are you looking for?"
Starsky's face popped up from behind the refrigerator's door.
"They mighta turned green by now," he said with a mischievous smile on his face.
"Starsky, you're nuts! You're not going to have dinner now, at midnight are you?"
In his mind he was replaying fragments of the things they'd said to each other over the past hours.
"I -uh --- I just want ya ta know, " he'd sighed before continuing,
"I just want ya ta know --- to tell ya --- finally, after all these months, how much I appreciate that you
were always there for me, Hutch --- I don't think I've told ya that enough --- but I really was --- and I really am ----"
He'd looked at Hutch with an apologetic expression in his eyes.
Still --- this wasn't about him --- this was about Starsky, his best friend, his partner.
First Starsky had to be whole, then his own healing would follow automatically.
He'd taken a deep breath, paused until he knew he'd be able to speak with a steady voice, and had taken
the plunge.
"Starsk -- you know I love ya, and I love your concern for me.
But you know just as well as I do that we have other things to discuss right now."
Hutch had leaned forward and had spoken deliberately.
"Let's just get down to business. Monday's news ---- hit you hard --- and that's
understandable.
But you shouldn't close yourself off from people who want to help you deal with this blow ----
don't shut us --- don't shut me out."
While Hutch was speaking, Starsky had been shifting uneasily on the couch, sighing repeatedly.
When it was his turn to speak again, he had done so calmly.
"Hutch --- I --- It's not that I want ta shut ya out --- I don't mean to anyway
--- and I don't necessarily feel like I've been doing that --- at least not all the time," he
had briefly looked at Hutch and sighed yet again.
Hutch had witnessed Starsky's struggle to find the right words to express himself.
On Starsky's face he had read his confusion about why it now was so difficult to speak to the man
he felt it should be so easy to open up to. This man he'd known and trusted for so long already,
with whom he'd been through so many ups and downs over the years.
Yet, Hutch also had understood that this time it was different.
They had always been on an even playing level.
But the shooting had changed the dynamics between them.
Starsky had scrambled to put his thoughts into the right order before sharing them with his friend.
"Hutch ---- I -- this --- this ---- thing, this shooting ---- I feel it's bigger than anything we've been through together so far. And ya'd think something as big as this would pull people together."
Hutch had wanted to react immediately, but Starsky had caught the change in his demeanor, so he'd put his hand up to make Hutch clear he needed to finish what he wanted to say first.
"But I have this feeling --- I dunno how to explain it --- that it's drivin' a
wedge between me and the rest of the world. Me and all of you --- I dunno if it's just me imagining it
--- but --- somehow I just can't connect the dots anymore, ya know? All these months I've been bustin'
my butt trying to get better --- I had a goal; getting back on the force. I feel I'm improving --- I
can see it and I'm thinkin' I'm really gonna make it. Hutch shivered involuntarily as he returned to the present, where the steaks neared completion.
He recalled the shock that went through him, when Starsky had asked the As he put the finishing touch on the salad, Hutch remembered how his mind had feverishly tried to
find a way to convince Starsky there was a point to it all --- a reason why things went the way
they did. "Ready? Wanna sit down and chow?" Starsky asked while placing each steak on its own plate and
carrying it over to the dining table.
"Yeah ---" Hutch replied, a tad absentmindedly, while his mind wandered back to earlier that day,
or rather yesterday, and the way he had attempted to make peace with life as it presented itself to both
him and Starsky, after all they'd been through.
And then they pull the rug out right from under me ---- All these months I've been playin' catch up
with the rest of the world, and close to the finish line I'm told 'Sorry, no cigar!' I don't get that,
Hutch --- can you understand that? I've been doin' my best --- I stuck to all the rules. I've been 'a
good boy' and still I get the door slammed in my face --- what the hell is the point?
What the hell have I been workin' for? ----"
Starsky had looked forlorn at Hutch, then had muttered in closing,
"What's the point?"
$ 64,000 question out loud 'What's the point?'.
That's indeed one helluva valid question, partner, when you've been through what you've been through
and still end up empty handed.
But he was hindered by his own failure to accept the new reality that was thrust upon them both by the
shooting.
"The reason why may always remain a mystery to us, Starsk,"
he'd said, while frantically trying not to send Starsky off into a deeper depression.
"But if there's anything we do know, it's that you are
still alive. "You've withstood so much already, Starsk, and you held on. That had been a mistake. Then Hutch's own doubts about Starsky's future had blocked him from being able to come up with the
right words quickly enough and the hesitance had set off Starsky even more. Hutch had tried to look at Starsky with indignation, upset that Starsky could even think something like
that about him, but instead he had only been able to produce a blank look.
"I thought this was supposed ta be the part where you'd stand up and convince
me that I'm wrong --- and tell me how great life's gonna be despite ---- despite everything ---" "Starsk, don't even say that!" "Maybe they just should've given up on me, when my heart stopped --- That last remark had lit a fuse in Hutch. No way would he let his best friend give up on himself. "Hey! Pass the ketchup, will ya?"
Hutch's reminiscing was interrupted by the insistence of Starsky's voice. "What'cha thinking about?" Starsky inquired in a light tone.
Hutch scrutinized his partner's expression and body language intensely. "Said about what? Hutch we talked almost around the clock, ya gotta be more specific," Starsky
answered around the bite of steak in his mouth.
Hutch hesitated for a moment. Starsky stopped chewing for a moment, then finished his bite, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin
and sipped his beer before answering. Hutch mulled Starsky's words over for a moment, then probed further. "A man's gotta have a goal, Hutch. Ya gotta have somethin' to fight for!"
"How about someone?" Hutch interrupted.
"Whaddaya mean?" Starsky asked.
"Why did it have to be a thing you were willing to fight for, why not just life itself, or a
person --- you!" Hutch pushed.
Starsky let out a loud belch, causing Hutch to roll his eyes. "You can't be serious! Starsky, there's so much more to you than just that part of you that is a cop!
And suppose you could come back to the force - on the streets even - would you be able to go at it
like before? You've been through hell and back these past months, Starsk --
would it be worth risking all that you've built up -- by going back to the streets?"
Starsky made a face. Starsky was silent for a long moment. Then he continued. A long silence filled the apartment. The clock struck again. 1.30 AM. Hutch followed and together they washed their dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Starsky thought long and hard before answering. Before entering his bedroom, Starsky turned and asked Hutch. A strange mixture of feelings washed over Hutch. "Were you?" Starsky asked.
Hutch stopped dead in his tracks as if he'd been hit in the face. He thought for a long time. "Because of me --- or the job?" Starsky asked, coming directly to the point as always.
"Honestly? I don't know --- maybe you getting injured or perhaps even worse --- might have tipped
the scale --- either way ----." Starsky smiled faintly and nodded his head. Hutch had heard those words and inhaled deeply.
And we -- you -- have to take it from there --- As cliché as it may sound, you have to play the cards
you were dealt. But you don't need to do that alone. We are always here for you, you do know that,
don't you?"
He'd studied Starsky's body language and facial expressions and they were not encouraging, so he'd
continued on a more or less desperate course to coax his friend to be more positive about his options.
You can get through this one, too, because you are so much stronger now ---"
As soon as those words had left his mouth, Hutch knew he'd chosen the wrong words.
Starsky had looked at the coffee table, his face grim, and had grumbled,
"What the hell do you know about it? Mo didn't just give me a time out!
He informed me about my whole future! My livelihood. What I am.
He coulda've just as well told me ta take a ride on the grim reaper express! ---
Don'tcha see what this means? I'm only thirty-two, Hutch -- too old to get a job where I can make a
decent living with my credentials and too young to be sittin' in the park, feedin' the ducks ----
It's over! It's fuckin' over!"
He'd focused intensely on Hutch and then had said in a timid voice.
"Oh my God --- you don't think I have a future either --- Do ya, Hutch?"
Starsky had said in a monotone, and then had looked over at Hutch again.
"Ya know something? I think this is the first time I've noticed you bein' caught
in the truth --- not a lie; the truth. Which makes me wonder just how long you've been lyin' ta me,
Hutch. Huh? How long? How long have ya been coaxin' me and cheering me on, while ya probably thought I
was a lost cause, huh?"
Ya know I always did wonder why they'd never answer me, each time I asked them about when I'd
be able ta get back on the streets."
Starsky had snorted and shaken his head.
"They were so busy just gettin' me vertical again, they didn't wanna jeopardize that by tellin' me that
would be pretty much all I'd be able to do; just stand around and watch life pass me by."
And although he would only admit to himself that he had serious doubts about Starsky's future,
he was willing to give all it took -- including some white lies - to take Starsky out of this deep black
hole he'd landed in.
"You are alive Starsk, against all odds, you are alive.
You were dead for several minutes, remember? But you came back. You fought because you wanted to stay.
Now you and only you know why you didn't give up --- not then, on that day in May and not during
the past half year or so --- you kept on going --- there must be something inside you, Starsk,
that wants to go on -- only you know the reason why --- and I'm sure it's a good reason --"
He'd inhaled deeply, several times, before being able to continue.
"You have plenty left to live for -- but you've got to get out of this frame of mind --- you won't reach
your full potential if you throw in the towel. I never knew you to be a quitter, Starsky, don't be one now!
You deserve better! Fight, Starsk --- dammit, fight!"
While Hutch had barely eaten two bites of his steak, Starsky was almost done.
"I was thinking about last night --- yesterday --- whenever --- about what you said ---" he finally said.
"You wondering what would have been the point of your struggle, if you can't go back to being a cop
again ---" he left his words hanging in the air --- not quite a question, not quite a statement.
"Well, shouldn't there be a reason for it? Is this like a cosmic warning, ya know like, 'we're gonna let
ya live this time, but the next time you wouldn't be so lucky, so we're just gonna take the job away
from ya' --- hmmm? I was so close, Hutch -- Moses told me so.
Hell, you know everyone was amazed at my progress.
I mean, the way I was goin' I thought I was reading about someone else when I first laid eyes on my
chart. And then all of a sudden --- boom - it stopped. Nothin' happened anymore.
Don'tcha think that's strange?"
"I don't know about that, Starsk. But what I'm curious about is --- was coming back to street duty ---
or coming back to the force, the only reason you kept fighting?"
"Sorry, talk about gettin' to the point!" Starsky grinned, then sobered up a little when he noticed
Hutch was sincerely trying to get to the bottom of things.
"It's just --- I love bein' a cop --- that's practically all I have been, most of my adult life.
I wouldn't know how or what else ta be.”
"Sheesh, you're gettin' all maudlin in your old age ---" he checked the kitchen clock.
It was past 1:00 AM.
"Or maybe it's the time o'night."
He looked at Hutch only to find his partner's disapproving look.
"I'm sorry --- you're serious --- I'll get serious ---" he sighed.
"Honestly? I'm a cop - I dunno what else to be. And yeah, sure there's more to me than just bein' a cop.
But the journey --- finding out what else I could be --- now that I probably can't be a cop anymore,
scares me. Hell, I don't even know if I'd be able to go back out on the streets without shittin' myself
– if I’d been well enough to pass the review board's requirements ----"
"That's what I was talkin' about before, ya know when I said I couldn't connect the dots anymore?
I can't seem ta be able to focus on anything anymore.
I've been so focused on getting back to active duty that I never even thought about what would
happen or what I should do if I couldn't---- "
"We'd better get some shuteye," Starsky said, and got up from the table.
Then Hutch asked,
"So where will you go from here? Now that we've had it out in the open --- are you ready to face
the new challenge?"
"I'm not done with the old one yet ---- I've got a lot of thinking to do."
And with that he turned off the light in the kitchen.
"Did ya really think I was --- ya know -- suicidal, Hutch?"
The narrow balance between truth and lies, instinct and hope, denial and fear.
"I don't know Starsk --- maybe it was colored by my own fears ----" he let the words linger.
Finally he said.
"I don't know --- I don't know, Starsk --- I guess that would've been my challenge to find out ----"
He gave Starsky a weary, bashful, almost apologetic smile.
He snorted.
"God, Starsk, is this your second wind? It's close to 2 in the morning, for God's sake!
I don't know about you, but I'm drained!"
"Yeah --- I guess we've had enough for one day --- Night, Hutch," he said, and as he walked into his
bedroom he added in a soft voice,
"Love ya."
He looked long and hard at the closed bedroom door before lying down in his makeshift bed.
He tossed and turned for hours while half awake, half asleep.
Images of Starsky standing on a bridge, Starsky standing before a fork in the road, the police station's
parking lot, screeching tires and metal against metal, haunted his mind-----
DAY SEVEN
He'd known ever since their Academy days together, that Hutch would always start the day off running
his set number of miles. He also knew Hutch used those runs to think things over. He walked through his neighborhood past the school, on his way to the park. No matter how long he walked, his mind remained empty. Blank. Suddenly a small group of people caught his attention. The man stood facing the other eight people, five women and three men. Some were Asian, some black,
and some white. They moved in quiet synchronicity and their silent dance mesmerized Starsky. Then the leader of the group looked at him and motioned him to come closer. "You want to join us, yes?" the old man asked.
"Nah, I don't hafta --- I'll just watch --"
The old man studied Starsky. The intensity of his gaze felt like it touched Starsky's very soul.
"You not in balance ---- man needs balance --- you join us, yes?" the old man said.
When he looked at the group he saw all the elderly men and women nodding encouragement to him.
He shrugged his shoulders. When he wanted to find a place amid the group, the old man held him back and raised his index finger
to him. "See me?" Starsky asked.
"Ssshhhhh," the old man answered, and began "scanning" Starsky by going over his body with the
palms of his hands, from a distance of about two inches.
Starsky had no idea what to make of it, but patiently waited until the small man had finished.
The man then looked up at Starsky while he held him by the arms. The old man spoke again to the group. Starsky joined in, as best he could. He was amazed at the elderly people's agility and found,
to his embarrassment, he could not even stand half as long on one leg, as they could. He only joined them for twenty minutes, but afterwards felt surprisingly at peace and fulfilled.
As the group broke up, the old man held on to his hand and asked, "David, David Starsky."
"David, you come back -- tomorrow, maybe? How say? ---- no string attach---"
"Yeah, I just might."
"Good." The old man turned to leave.
"Uhm, sir? Your name please?"
"Way Weng," the old man replied. Starsky watched as the man left. Then, with a smile on his face, he went on his way back home.
Starsky was the first to wake up. He quietly changed into his jogging suit and, wearing just his socks,
carried his sneakers as he slipped past Hutch who lay crumbled on the couch.
He stepped out on the landing into the early fall chill and sat down to put on his Adidas.
Then he went for a walk. Not a jog, just a brisk walk.
Perhaps that habit might rub off on him. He could sure use it, after yesterday's emotion filled day.
Save a few people walking their dogs and a few joggers, the park was practically empty.
Come on! Inspire me, dammit. Help me figure everything out! Give me a handle, something to hold on
to; to pull myself up from this damned black hole -- somebody kick me in the butt and show me the
way, for cripes sake.
They were standing in the middle of the park on the grass making simultaneous moves to music he
couldn't hear. Curious, he approached them, and as he got closer, he could see they were all easily
over fifty. There were nine of them including an elderly Asian man who seemed to be somewhere in
is seventies if not older. He appeared to be their leader.
He stood there for a few minutes, watching them in open-mouthed wonder.
At first Starsky shook his head and smiled in polite refusal.
But the old man insisted, so Starsky approached.
"Okay!"
"First I see you," he spoke in his broken English.
"You come from far -- far away --- you traveled a long way to come to this point --- you were broken ---
and not yet healed --- but it will come --- it will come --- patience ---" then he gestured Starsky to
find a place among the other group members.
"Welcome this young man --- he been through terrible trauma --- terrible fight ---
He come back from being a baby once more --- he almost back to man again ---
now: follow me -- you try too, young man --- if don't go --- no forcing --- patience ---"
and he began the slow, rhythmic moves again.
But each time he threatened to fall over, the old man nodded his head to him or repeated the word
"patience" as he walked by him.
"Name?"
"But 'Old Man' will do," he added with a smile.
"Tomorrow!" he said again, and walked away.
Hutch had woken up to a quiet house about twenty minutes after Starsky left.
Unaware that he was alone in the house, he quietly started breakfast and set the table.
Then he tiptoed to Starsky's bedroom and was immediately grabbed by a panic attack.
What the --- ? Where the hell ---?
"Starsk?" he called out insecurely.
He knocked on the bathroom door.
"Starsk? Are you in there?"
He opened the door - no sign of his partner.
Back in the bedroom he noticed Starsky's Adidas and his keys were missing.
He quickly walked over to the living room window.
Torino's still here --- Where the hell are you, Starsk?
He opened the front door and descended the stairs.
He walked around the building before realizing he'd left the front door open.
Shit! Get a grip --- calm down. He's just --- he's only --- Starsk -- you didn't go out and do
something --- No, no --- calm down. He's all right, he's fine.
He quickly went back into the apartment, showered and looked at the clock every two minutes.
Come on, Starsk! Where the hell are you? Why did you just sneak out, dammit?!
After more than an hour the door to the apartment opened and Starsky stepped in, holding a brown paper bag.
Hutch's heart almost skipped a beat from relief at the sight of Starsky's innocent expression, but his earlier concern wouldn't let him be friendly just yet.
"Where the hell did you go?" he blurted out.
"I didn't know I had to ask you for permission," Starsky snapped back.
They looked at each other defiantly at first, then apologetically.
"I'm sorry," Hutch offered.
"I was just worried ---"
"Don't be --- I'm not some piece of --"
"Precious china --- yeah, I know ---"
They both sighed.
"What do you have there?"
"Breakfast," Starsky exclaimed enthusiastically, as he offered the brown paper bag to Hutch.
Hutch took the bag from his friend and opened it.
"Starsky, this is Won Ton soup with noodles and --- fortune cookies?"
"Yeah, so?"
"For breakfast?"
"What's your point?"
Hutch sighed deeply, but inside his heart was singing.
First steaks at midnight, now weird food choices for breakfast again --- Is this a sign?
What did you do this morning?
"I was in the mood -- c'mon open it up!" Starsky seemed absolutely full of spunk again.
While they spooned up their soup, Hutch began asking the questions that were burning inside his mind.
"So, where did you go?"
"For a walk --- the park."
"Didn't you want company?"
"I just needed some space!" Starsky startled himself with his own response.
"Ya know?" he added in a softer voice.
"You sure looked in a good mood when you returned. Want to share?" Hutch asked.
Starsky finished his soup and leaned back with an extremely content expression on his face.
"Hutch," he sighed,
"Ya won't believe me when I tell ya --- I met this man -- these people --- fantastic," he sighed again,
contently.
Hutch grinned.
Look at you! Good to see you like this again, Starsk.
"What's their secret?"
"Hmm?"
"How did they manage to put that smile back on your face?"
"I dunno --- peace, quiet ---- patience --- acceptance" Starsky said.
"Acceptance?"
"Yeah!"
"What kind of people?"
"Some old people in the park. They exercise in the park each morning. I dunno what it's called exactly --- kind of like slo mo ballet -- looks easy to do, but it ain't. They invited me ta join, so I did ---"
"So you were allowed to join them, that's the acceptance?"
"Yeah, that too, but --- they took me for what I am, ya know? It's all right if I can't do everything they do --- I just do what I can and everyone's okay with that --- acceptance, ya know?"
Sure, it's easy for some strangers to accept you the way you are now ---- but God, Starsk --- you were so --- the way you are now --- after all those months --- all that hard work ----
"---- terrific, huh?" Starsky's voice seeped into Hutch's mind and interrupted his thoughts, though not yet enough for him to give a timely response.
"Hey! Don'tcha agree?" Starsky insisted.
"I'm sorry, Starsk --- I, uh --- what was that?" he fumbled.
"That I think I'm gonna try and join them for a while --- the old man said himself 'No strings attached' --- terrific, huh?"
Hutch looked into Starsky's smiling features. Not quite the old Starsky spark yet, but inching
closer for sure.
Okay, some Tai Chi with a bunch of senior citizens --- is that what you are now Starsk?
Is that what you want?
"Hutch!" Starsky's plea for a response became more persistent.
What the hell do you want, Hutchinson? At least he's up again --- he's willing to
do something again --- that's what you wanted, right? But do you want him to stay in this place
--- at this level? Shouldn't he at least continue to try and aim for more?
He still looked into his partner's face and knew he needed to respond immediately, for Starsky's
patience and good mood were wearing thin.
"What about PT?"
"What about PT?"
"Well, you're still scheduled, right? That didn't just come to a screeching halt, did it?"
"No --- but ---"
"So are you going to do both? Is that wise? Can you do them next to each other --- I mean, won't one interfere with the results of the other?"
"Sheesh, what's this? Twenty questions? I dunno, Hutch --- Man!"
Starsky got up from the table and started pacing, irritation evident in his features.
Hutch bit his lower lip.
What the hell do you want for him? You spent half the night talking him out of his depression and
you take half a minute to push him right back in! What the hell is the matter with you, Hutchinson?
Before he could try and calm Starsky down, the latter was already asking his own questions.
"I thought you'd be happy for me, Hutch! I thought the whole point of last night and most of yesterday --- Goddammit, most of this past week was, you tryin' to get me out of the pit I fell into last Monday ---- I'm tryin' so hard to do that. Now I manage to take an important step in the right direction, and you're gonna just shoot it down again? Why? Cos it ain't the right way? Or cos it isn't your way? Huh? Will you get your signals straight for once, Jesus!!!!!"
Starsky stamped his foot in frustration.
Hutch was again lost in his own thoughts.
Starsky watched his absent-minded partner in growing confusion.
Then Hutch got up, collected his clothes and went into the bathroom, leaving Starsky dumbfounded.
When he emerged all he mumbled was,
"I have to go somewhere, I'll call you ---" and hurried out of the apartment.
"I'll call ya? What the ----" was all he could hear Starsky exclaim as he quickly made his way down to his LTD.
He knew his schedule by heart now, after all these months that they'd known each other.
So Hutch waited patiently outside the treatment room of the hospital around lunchtime and,
sure enough, Moses emerged right on time.
The huge, muscular black man began to smile when he discovered the blond detective, but his smile lost some of its luster when he noticed the weary expression on Hutch's face.
"Hey man, what's up? Where's Shirley?"
Despite his mood, Hutch had to chuckle.
Moses had taken up nicknaming Starsky "Shirley" after Shirley Temple, because of his hair and
"little princess attitude" as he'd often describe Starsky's behavior during the heat of physical therapy.
"He's home," Hutch responded softly.
"Aha, I see --- why don't we grab somethin' to chew and go to the park --- get down to the nitty gritty, huh?" Moses offered.
Hutch gratefully accepted.
The blond and the big, black man were an odd couple as they walked side by side in the park, while Hutch spilled his gut.
"---so I just don't know, you know? What do I want for him, what does he want for himself? What's within his range --- I mean -- what is he still capable of --- you know?"
Moses motioned Hutch to sit down on a bench near the edge of the small pond.
He finished his bite of his sandwich and answered Hutch.
"You know him better than even I do, Hutch. But I know one thing for sure; he wants things before he even realizes he wants them, ya know? He's always marchin' to his own drummer --- Dave doesn't do anything the conventional way."
Hutch chuckled and Moses joined him.
"Yeah, who am I tellin'? You know that better than anyone, except his momma."
Moses sighed and studied the man next to him. Hutch looked tired and worn, older than his years.
The kindness in his features was still evident, but was fading. It was an ongoing process, and Moses
had been witnessing its progress for the past several months. He knew Hutch had a chip on his
shoulder that was bigger than just concern for his recovering partner. But was he the right person
to advise someone who was not his patient? Even if he'd been around him for a long time now?
He decided to take the leap.
"Hutch --- man, I'm gonna tell ya something, and I'm warnin' ya up front that you might not want to hear this from me. Hell, it might not even be my place to tell you all this --- but ---- I got this feeling that maybe Dave's been trying to tell you this for a long time now and somehow never got around to it. If you don't think it's my business just tell me to butt out, okay?"
Hutch looked at Moses and gave him a tired smile.
"Shoot," he softly replied.
Moses sighed then turned so he faced Hutch completely.
"You two guys --- I've seen it before ya know. I've treated cops before.
Yeah -- cop partnerships, tell me about it. So I understand the bond thing, ya know?
But I'm sure that it can't be either of ya's intention to get in each other's way, even if you think
it's for the other's own best interest.
I mean, look at you, man! I've seen you age about a hundred years these past months because you're
breakin' that blond head of yours over Shirley's future --- your future --- by each little bit
of progress he makes. You're not sure what you want cos it all has two sides to it. If ya don't want him
to get back on the streets, that would mean he shouldn't get well enough to pass the review board's
requirements.
And you don't want that either, cos if he's not good enough to pass the review board's requirements,
he's practically not well enough to take care of himself 24/7. And nobody wants that for
their best friend and partner, now do they?"
Moses raised his eyebrows to Hutch to get some kind of a response.
Instead, Hutch just remained still, staring at the ground.
"Man, I know ya love that guy --- hell, he even managed to wiggle his own nook inside my heart --- but ya can't have it all. Either you root for him to make the best progress he can in all sincerity and support him, or --- or ya pamper him and prevent him from getting back on the street --- even if he could be fit enough to return ---"
Hutch looked up in wonder.
"But I thought you'd told him ----"
Moses raised his hand and stopped Hutch's question.
"Right now he isn't. Hasn't made any real progress in weeks. But I'm wondering if it's all just physical.
I mean --- you've heard of mind over matter? Right now he's at his physical limit, pretty much so.
But I'm wondering if something or someone is holding him back, even if ole knucklehead don't realize
it himself --- you get what I'm aiming at?"
"I'm not sure ----"
"Hutch, Dave shouldn't even be here today. He died, man! But they brought him back.
He could've been a vegetable right now.
Some say he should've been a vegetable right now, given his medical file.
But he fought his ass off to improve. From horizontal to vertical, from passive to active.
You guys, his family, his friends, the medical staff too, were all rootin' for him to get well.
To get some kind of quality of life, after he survived.
That wasn't hard to aim for --- I mean, if ya just want to be able to wipe your own butt, you're willing
to go through any lengths -- and he did. But that was for himself, for his own dignity, ya know?
Then the next phase kicked in-- the independence phase. To work toward not needing people to baby-sit
you anymore. He got through that all right. But that phase is already partly for himself and partly for
those around him --- the babysitters.
Now with you, he's got an even more complicated situation goin' on. You were not just one of the
babysitters --- you are also the guy whose back he's gotta cover while earning his daily bread.
You guys work together and ---"
"You're saying now he's depressed because his not making enough progress to pass the review
board's standards gives him the feeling he's letting me down?!" Hutch interrupted vehemently.
"Starsky loves being a cop! He didn't become a cop because of me!"
"Hold it, hold on man! I'm not accusing you of anything!
All I'm saying is he's a very duty bound guy --- you know that --- and loyal to a fault.
I know he probably became a cop because of his daddy ---- I figured that much --- so as far as doing it
for himself is concerned, that would be it.
But yeah, in a way, he is busting his butt to get back on the force for you, too!
Not just cos he doesn't want to disappoint you, or let you down, but because he feels responsible for
your well being, for covering your back, man. And because he doesn't want to be a burden anymore."
"I don't get it," Hutch said,
"You just said that despite him giving it his all, he hasn't made any progress lately. You just said he
really wants to get back to the force, for himself --- for me even ---
How does that make me the one responsible for his lack of improvement? You know I've been there
for him all the way --- hell, I even moved in with him for a while, just to help him get back on his
feet ----"
Moses sighed.
"I can read folks pretty well, Hutch. Years of experience.
And I sense you don't want him to return to the streets with you --- or anyone else for that matter.
You don't want him to get hurt anymore, which is totally understandable --- but you're giving off vibes,
and your sidekick is picking up on them ------ He's a very emotional guy, Hutch. He's got that mind over
matter thing going more so than most folks. If he senses something negative, it immediately has its effect
on him --- even if he isn't consciously aware of it himself."
A long silence followed during which Hutch was contemplating all that had been said.
"So, what are you saying?" he finally asked.
Moses got up and motioned Hutch to walk back with him to the hospital since his lunch-break was
nearing its end.
"It's his life, man. It's gotta be his choice. If you give off negativity, chances are he won't be making
any more progress, and you'll take the choice away from him.
If his only option is disability, you may get your way in keeping him off the streets, but think about
what that will do for him, huh?
Not only will you deny him any possible physical progress that might still be lurking somewhere inside
him, but you will also deny him his own freedom of choice on whether he wants to return to the streets
in the first place ----- You dig?"
The two men had reached Hutch's car in the parking lot.
Hutch looked up at Moses with moist eyes and smiled.
"God, you remind me of another wise friend ---" he snorted.
"Yeah, good old Hug," Moses laughed while he briefly put his arm around Hutch's shoulder and squeezed
him as a sign of support and understanding.
"Yep, bar tenders, barbers, physical therapists ---- we all got a shrink inside us!"
Both men let out a hearty laugh and stood smiling at each other for a moment.
"So now?" Hutch asked just to get the message again.
"Be positive, Hutch. Be positive for him. He may still have a lot more that he can achieve.
Don't take his goals away from him, just because you are afraid for his future.
He's a grown man --- let him decide."
Hutch nodded his head and mouthed a silent "Yeah". He turned to unlock his car.
"And Hutch?"
"Yeah?"
"Go talk to someone, about your own fears and feelings. You been holding on to those for way too long, bro --- it's eating you up. Think about it --- but don't wait too long. Just talk to someone, okay?"
Hutch thought for a moment, then looked warmly at Moses while getting into his car.
"I guess you're not talking about my friendly housekeeper, huh?"
He winked at Moses and drove off.
DAY EIGHT
He'd tried to keep his mind off the morning's incident by taking a long, hot shower, cleaning his
apartment, doing some exercises and cooking, in his opinion, a terrific batch of chili, if he did say
so himself. He had not dared to leave the apartment, anxious to not miss the phone call Hutch had
promised to make. But it never came. Now, the day after, he was awake and at first didn't feel like leaving his bed, let alone his
apartment. But he dragged himself out of his bed, put on his jogging clothes and - after one more
look at his quiet phone - left for the park.
Again he found Way Weng's group of senior citizens and again he joined them in their work out.
His body ached. It always did, since the shooting, at times when he was tense or ill at ease. But Way Weng was patient with him and the group accepted his sometimes stiff and awkward attempts
to follow them in their rhythm.
After the work out, he slowly walked back to his apartment. The first thing he did after he returned home was check his phone to see if it was working at all.
The dial tone came on perfectly.
Dammit, Hutch!
He picked up the phone and dialed a number. He hung up the phone and contemplated for a moment. Then he got up and did his morning rituals.
He kept the door to the bathroom open, just in case the phone would ring. But it didn't.
He made and ate his breakfast, and he read his morning paper while keeping his eyes and ears on the
phone. But it never rang.
Again he didn't dare leave the house --- and again he didn't dare pick up the phone and call Hutch
first. Instead he picked up the phone and dialed another number. He hung up the phone and sunk back into his own thoughts again.
Starsky had waited in vain for Hutch's phone call the previous day but his instinct had told him to give
his partner time and space. The look on Hutch's face as he'd left his apartment had been edged on
Starsky's memory throughout the entire day.
So the day had faded into night, and he'd finally gone to sleep.
He wondered if that would ever go away again.
His head was buzzing, his ears were ringing. He didn't feel like Won Ton soup today.
"Hey, Hug ---- yeah, it's me. ----Yeah, I'm okay ---- I'm okay! Yeah!
Say --- has Hutch been around there, yet? ---- Sure I know what time it is ----
Well, I wasn't specifically talkin' about him bein' there today ----
Hasn't been there yesterday either, huh? --- Hmmm. --- Huh? --- No, it's nothin' --- Thanks, Hug."
"Hey Cal? What'cha doin' home at this hour? ---- Yeah? --- Really ---- Okay, I believe ya.
Hey, is your mom around? --- Yeah, I'll hold. ---- Hi, Edith ---- I'm fine now, thank you --- yeah ---
yeah, I'm workin' on it ---- I know you and Cap are there for me, you always are --- Yes, Ma'am."
He chuckled as he listened to Edith's good advice. If she couldn't be seen as a second mother, she at
least was like an older, wiser, sister to him.
"I know --- Listen, Edith. Has Hutch called you, yesterday? ---- He hasn't ---- hmmm ---
No, no, I dunno ---- No, if he was at the station there's nothin' to worry about ---
Yeah, I'll do that --- Okay, thanks Edith, talk to ya later."
Hutch drummed the leather of the chair he occupied with the fingers of both hands.
He'd been waiting for over ten minutes already. He'd gone straight to the station this morning and had
immediately stepped into Captain Dobey's office upon his arrival.
He recalled the scene that had played out there, earlier this morning.
"Hutch?" the Captain had asked in surprise. Yes, it's Dave, it's always Dave!
His raised eyebrows, soon had knotted in a frown when he studied his top detective.
Hutch looked tired, more tired than in all the previous, horrible months.
"Son, you look like yesterday’s leftovers --- what's goin' on? Is it Dave?"
He recalled his first gut reaction and how it had shocked him.
The little voice in his mind had sounded like that of a jealous sibling --- the last thing he felt like.
"Yes, Cap, and uh -- no, Cap --- It's about me --- but in relation to Starsk --- I'm afraid I may be his biggest problem right now ---"
Captain Dobey had motioned him to sit down and, with a bewildered expression on his face had asked, "I'm holding him back, Captain. I don't want to --- I think --- but someone made me see the light
yesterday --- I am holding him back, and it's not doing anyone any good ---"
"What the hell are you talking about, Hutchinson!
You're one of the main reasons that boy's still on this planet!"
Dobey was a wise man --- he could read between the lines, and he did.
"You want to get your head straight, son?" he had asked Hutch in a mild tone.
Hutch had nodded, and Dobey had picked up the phone.
"Yeah, this is Dobey --- can you check if Phil La Rue is in this morning? Yeah, how's he fixed for time?
Right now? Are you sure? Okay --- Detective Hutchinson will meet him in his office."
Dobey had nodded his support to Hutch as he left for the department psychiatrist's office.
And here he was now, still waiting.
Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Philip La Rue entered.
"Sorry I took so long, Detective --- Narcotics needed me."
Hutch just looked at the wiry man at the other end of the desk.
"Okay ---- Detective Hutchinson --- My secretary tells me you're here by special request of our very own Captain. I suppose this is our long awaited visit in relation to your partner's shooting last May?"
Hutch cleared his throat and sat up in the chair.
"Yes – yes, that's right."
"All right --- let me pull out your files --- Detective Hutchinson --- K, right?
Yes, and Detective, Detective ----"
"Starsky!" Hutch blurted out.
The shooting of Starsky was the biggest event at this precinct this year, and this sonofabitch doesn't
even know his name!
"Yes, here we are --- So, Detective --- what made you change your mind and come here now ---- four months after ----"
"Five!"
"Of course, five months after the incident?"
What the hell am I doing here? This guy's as bad as all those IA idiots --- they're not 'one of us'!
They have no clue about partnerships ---- inter-human relationships -- friendships---
This man doesn't have a clue I want such opposite things for Starsk --- Why am I here?
"Detective?"
Hutch looked at La Rue again --- and then Moses' words of the day before seeped through his rambling
thoughts --- 'Just talk to someone, okay?'
He is a pro --- this does have everything to do with our working relationship, too ----
"I'm afraid --- I'm afraid I'm going to jeopardize my partner's health ---"
"How so, Detective?"
Hutch's temple throbbed, and he shifted in his seat.
The continued addressing by his rank irked him terribly.
"I uh --- I have these ambivalent feelings about Starsky's return to active duty --- and it's --
I've been --- it's been suggested to me that's influencing his progress --- in a negative sense."
"Did Detective Starsky tell you so himself, Detective?"
"No, he didn't --- and you can drop the 'Detective', Doctor. Just call me Hutch."
La Rue nodded his head slowly.
"Then who did make the suggestion?"
"His physical therapist ---"
"And what do you think?"
Hutch thought for a moment.
"I think he may be right."
A moment of silence followed.
"Your negative influence on your former partner's progress --- how would you describe its origin?"
"He's still my partner!" Hutch blurted out, then continued,
"What do you mean by origin?"
"From where does this negative influence spring? From a good or bad origin?"
"I don't ----"
"Are you sabotaging him, or is it a cautionary act? Does it spring from goodness or evil?"
"Listen, Doctor, I came here for a serious reason, and you're playing word games? Come on!"
Hutch got up from his seat.
"Detective --- Hutch --- please sit back down. Please ---" La Rue pleaded with Hutch.
Annoyed, Hutch sat back down in the chair.
"What I'm asking is this. Does this negative influence you're expressing come from concern about Detective Starsky's return to the streets, your concern for his well being in that situation --- or does it spring from concern about your own well being, once you're paired up with him again?"
Hutch was stumped. He was annoyed, angry and insulted because he was convinced he'd always only had Starsky's best interest at heart. And now some total outsider was suggesting he, be it subconsciously, could be sabotaging Starsky's return to active duty in order to protect his own best interests.
A roller coaster of emotions and memories tumbled around in his mind.
After what seemed an eternity, Hutch said in a soft voice,
"I want him to be well --- I want him to be the same as he was before, but I know that's not going to
happen. So I want him to be as close to that as is humanly possible. And I know he's been fighting all
these months to get well -- well enough to get back on the force.
I'm sure he wants to remain my partner ---- I know he wants to remain a cop ---
I don't know however, what the shooting has done to him psychologically.
All I know is that he's set himself the goal of getting back on the force, possibly back on the streets
with me. And me? I wish May 15th had never happened ---" he smiled wearily at La Rue.
"But we all know that's an illusion. It did happen --- and now, we've got to pick up the pieces.
I want Starsky to be my partner --- in any capacity his condition will allow.
If we were to get back on the streets again, I'd want him there by my side. ---
You know last Monday, when he heard the news he might not even be deemed fit enough for a
part-time desk-job, the first thing he said was we'd always be partners - friends - even, if we were apart.
Of course that was before the news had really sunk in. ---
Hell, he even suggested a few new partners for me.
But, now that we're beginning to realize the depth of it --- "
Hutch let the words drift away.
"What can I say, Doc? We've been partners for so long, and we both have always been aware that
around each street corner we could meet with destiny. Bump into a bullet with our name on it.
Yet we always sailed through it, together. Sure, we had our share of injuries and mishaps ---
occupational hazards --- but we made it each time, together.
This is the first time, really, that we got this close --- that it actually happened ---
that one of us died. And sure, he came back --- but it was close, too close."
Hutch sighed and paused for a moment.
But he couldn't stop himself anymore from continuing with this confessional.
"I almost lost him --- and it hit home --- hard. I don't ever want to have to live through that again --- not even if he'd survive again --- Sometimes we have to realize things happen for a reason --- maybe this last incident happened to tell us enough is enough --- "
"Enough for you? Or enough for Detective Starsky --- or enough for the both of you?" La Rue immediately asked.
Hutch thought long and hard.
"I don't know --- Starsky told me, he worked long and hard with only one goal in mind--
to get back on the streets ---"
"But you're not so sure that's what you want?"
Hutch shrugged his shoulders.
Dr. La Rue studied the figure in the chair in front of his desk.
The slumped shoulders, the worn appearance, the worried and pensive expression.
This detective could be cured so easily, if only he allowed himself to give in to his deepest wishes.
La Rue inhaled deeply and said,
"I can't give you a cut and dry ready to go solution here -- I would need to see the both of you,
together and separately. But as far as I can speak about Detective Starsky, from what you've just told me,
he might think he wants to get back on the streets --- but he will only know for certain once he
physically is back in that position again. So --- if you --- if we all want to know for
sure how the shooting of May 15th has affected him psychologically, we must allow him to grow to his
full potential, physically.
I'd follow the advice Detective Starsky's physical therapist gave you.
Be there for your partner and support him in his fight to meet the review board's requirements ---
let him achieve his fullest potential, don't stifle him. Set him free.
Then, should he be able to get back on the streets, a whole new phase will begin. Because practice is
always very different from theory ---- he might discover whole new things about himself. As for you,
Det.---- Hutch --- my office is open to you, any time.
Here's my card --- I have a feeling you've been bottling up things all this time --- that's never
a good thing. You can talk to me --- or that physical therapist you mentioned --- sounds like you two
have a good rapport too --- but don't keep it inside --- it's beginning to show ---"
Hutch took the card, baffled that no standard psychiatrist mumbo jumbo followed.
"And now?"
La Rue chuckled.
"You're free to go --- think about what I said ---- think about what you were told yesterday.
That gentleman sounds like a very wise soul. Open up --- start working through your own trauma ---
it's time you started healing, too. I'm not going to push you --- you're an intelligent man ---
you will know when you want to talk and with whom ---
You've just taken the first important step, acknowledging that you, too, need help.
I have all the faith in the world you'll keep making good decisions from now on.
Just ask yourself, what you want for your future and for that of your partner."
And with that, La Rue held out his hand.
Hutch shook hands with the doctor and left the office ---- a new spring back in his step.
He asked Dobey for some personal time and drove his LTD to the hospital for another talk with Moses
after which he headed for the market to do some grocery shopping.
He had things to do and places to go, one place in particular.
Starsky sat staring at some game show on TV without blinking when the door to his apartment opened, and Hutch entered holding a grocery bag.
"Hey, Gordo, you want to give me a hand with these?" Hutch asked while taking the groceries to the kitchen.
Starsky only moved his head in the direction of Hutch's voice, stunned as he was to finally see his partner again.
"Come on, beautiful --- idle hands!" Hutch said on his way back from the kitchen, and he patted
Starsky on top of his head.
Down the stairs to the apartment he went again to fetch the next batch of grocery bags.
What the?
Slowly Starsky got up from the couch and shuffled over to the apartment's door.
Peeking through the window he could see Hutch coming up the stairs with two more grocery bags,
leaving two more on top of the LTD's roof.
"Here you go, take these, will you?" Hutch gasped as he handed the grocery bags to Starsky before making one last trip down the stairs.
What the hell's the matter with him? Starsky wondered while taking the groceries into the kitchen. He checked the bags and found all ingredients for the Paul Muni special and more of his favorites.
Panting, Hutch walked into the kitchen with the two last grocery bags.
"Whose birthday is it?" Starsky asked, making a face.
Hutch smiled shyly at his friend.
"Since when do we need a birthday to have a good meal?"
"Or some guilt food?" Starsky couldn't resist.
"Guilt food?"
"Yeah --- sat so long on the phone waitin' for your call it almost hatched ---"
"I'm --- I'm sorry --- I forgot --- had a lot on my mind---" Hutch began sorting out the groceries.
He's workin' on his end of things --- finally, Blondie!
"So, what’s the deal? --- with all this stuff?"
"Dinner, Kemo Sabe -- and conversation."
They prepared the food together during which they only talked about superficial subjects. Then they sat down with the Paul Muni special, and the serious talking began.
"I talked to Moses ---" Hutch watched Starsky's reaction.
"Yeah? When?"
"Yesterday --- he's one helluva friend, Starsk --- "
"Didn't I always tell ya?"
"Yep, you did --- anyway -- he made me aware of some important questions I need to answer for myself --- questions about the future ---"
Here it comes---- Starsky watched Hutch's inner struggle to articulate his thoughts.
"Starsk ---- Oh, hell I'm just gonna say it --- Since last Monday --- when I picked you up from the
hospital after you heard the news from Moses --- a lot has changed. I mean --- you were the one
cheering me up that afternoon, remember?
All I could think of was us -- as we were before --- you know ---
So all I could think of was how your bad news would affect you and me, on the job --- how it would ---"
Hutch sighed and looked down at his plate.
Starsky waited patiently.
"How your bad news would end our partnership --- on the street, that is ---"
Hutch looked at Starsky, his eyes searching for a response in those blue eyes.
He found encouragement there, and so he continued.
"You perked me up, and I went home --- thinking about what you'd said.
Yes, first and foremost we're friends --- who just happen to share the same job.
But when you --- when the news had sunk in with you the next day --- you threw my thoughts right
out the window with yours --- Is that what I'd want?
Just going on as a cop, without you by my side?
I don't care how good Cruz and Donato are --- they're not you ---
But that's not even the point anymore --- The point is --- do I still want to go out on those
streets, where we can just walk straight into another bullet and end up in a mess similar to the one
we've been living through these past months?"
Hutch paused and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
"To tell you the truth --- I'm not so sure about that anymore, Starsk ---"
Starsky was not sure about what Hutch was telling him.
"Ya wanna quit being a cop?" he asked.
Hutch took a long moment to think about that one.
"No -- no, I don't think so --- I just have to figure out some stuff for myself ---
It's like you said the other day, Starsk --- I witnessed the whole thing --- and I guess until now,
I never really stopped to think about --- about what it did to me ---
I mean, it was so obvious what it did to you, but I got out unharmed --- physically, and for the longest
time I thought the only way I was affected, was by the possible loss of you, as a friend and partner.
By your injuries and by your journey to get back to where you are now ----
I never stopped to think about just what exactly everything that's happened over these past months
actually did to me --- If and how it changed my outlook on things --- you know?"
"So what are ya gonna do?"
Hutch answered while studying his hands.
"Do a whole lot of thinking, I guess --- just like Mo suggested," he chuckled before continuing,
"And just like the doctor ordered."
He looked at Starsky for his reaction.
With eyes wide from amazement, Starsky asked,
"La Rue? You went to La Rue, again?"
Hutch laughed.
Good for you, Blintz!
"Man, that musta been like the second time since this happened!
If ya don't watch out you're gonna break a record!"
Suddenly Hutch sobered up again and asked seriously,
"Starsk --- I don't want you -- I don't want you to think that I want you to stop being a cop --
I don't even know if I want to stop being a cop --- that's what I have to try and figure out now.
Anyway, you're the only one who decides what you will do once you pass the review board ---"
"Hutch ---"
Hutch held up his hand.
"Didn't I just say I talked to Moses? You're not done with your PT yet ---
He seems to think you're not the quitting kind ---- and I happen to agree with him."
"But Hutch ---"
"You've got the same questions to answer about your future as I do, Starsk.
Apart from the possibility of returning to the job --- you'd have to know if you'd want to return to it ---"
"Ya know I want to return to it!" Starsky was quick to answer, but his tone was morose as he remembered the bad news of last Monday, which had been the cause of this whole emotional roller coaster ride they'd been on the past eight days.
Hutch took a deep breath.
"Then you'll have to fight and try to achieve that goal --- continue your PT and see how far you can get.
It's like La Rue told me this morning 'Reality may differ from Theory' ---
You won't know if being back on the streets is what you really want, until you're actually physically back
on the job again. You've been to hell and back, Starsk --- you may find out you've changed your mind
once you're back out there again ---
But you'll never know if you don't pass the review board's requirements ----"
Starsky looked at his best friend and partner.
You're not lying anymore --- and you're putting me above yourself again, as always ---
Ya don't really want me to do this --- but you're kickin' me out of the nest, anyway ---
What did I ever do to deserve you?
He picked at the last bit of his meat left from the Paul Muni Special and said, in reference to another
time when Hutch had prepared him his favorite meal,
"I gotta stop ya from talkin' ta people who know me well, behind my back ---" and winked at Hutch
as he took the bite.
Hutch just laughed and raised his glass to his best friend.
With the deepest, darkest pit of the tumultuous week behind them, the friends were exhausted, but relieved and fulfilled with what they'd achieved. Their friendship had survived yet another storm, one of many since the shooting.
Exhausted, they each found their rest, Starsky in his bed, and Hutch on his familiar place on Starsky's couch.
DAY NINE
Another loud burst of thunder made the apartment tremble.
"Sheesh, that was close!" Starsky mumbled in awe. He hated thunderstorms.
"Yeah -- no kidding ---"
"Whadawedo?" Starsky asked, like a little boy.
Both Hutch and Starsky winced as a bright, white light filled the room and a loud noise like a crack
of a huge whip sounded almost simultaneously.
"Well, shower's out of the question, unless you want instant electrocution ---" Hutch answered dryly.
"I fuckin' don't like this." Starsky said, as he moved closer to Hutch.
"No need to involve sex --- I just don't like it, period," Hutch continued in dry wit.
Starsky made a face.
"I'd better call the station --- see if they need me," Hutch said.
"Hey! Are ya nuts! Water? Electricity?!!!" Starsky shrieked as he pulled at Hutch's sleeve.
"Oh, yeah --- no showers or phone calls during a thunderstorm," he smiled at Starsky, amused by his
partner's panic.
They sat and waited for the storm to drift away. When the thunder rumbled in the distance, they looked out of the window only to find the neighborhood
filled with broken branches, tons of fallen leaves and other small debris.
They muttered their amazement as they witnessed what half an hour of nature's fury could bring.
Then Starsky walked over to the phone and dialed a number.
Hutch walked over to the kitchen to make them some coffee.
"Yeah -- could I speak to Moses Aaronson please?"
Hutch tuned in his ears to follow Starsky's end of the conversation.
"Yeah, Mo? It's Dave -- Hey, I'm callin' ya to say I'm not comin' in for PT."
Hutch quickly walked back into the living room to find out why Starsky had changed his mind, yet again. "Not today anyway --- I got some stuff to do right here --- see ya tomorrow. You too, bro!"
Starsky hung up the phone and smiled mischievously at Hutch. Hutch let out a sigh of relief --- Starsky was already in the process of taking off his pajamas. Hutch chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I figured the way you been makin' yourself comfortable here lately --- that gives ya some
obligations --- cleanin' up the neighborhood mess bein' one of them."
Starsky had quickly switched his pajamas for his jogging suit and came out of the bedroom with a
spare suit, which he threw at Hutch.
"Another fine mess you're getting me into, then?" Hutch asked while catching his clothes for the moment.
Starsky looked up at Hutch and smiled in understanding. Fully dressed in their jogging suits and equipped with plastic garbage bags, the two friends and partners
went downstairs and by cleaning up the mess in the streets, closed off another rocky chapter in the
"Post Gunther" book.
A loud crack of thunder woke them up the next day.
Starsky soon got up and walked into the living room where he found Hutch, hair all messed up,
being eerily lit by flashes of lightning.
It was a real fall storm, with heavy winds and rain and it had blown in from nowhere.
What now, Starsk? Why this change of heart again --- I thought we'd come so far yesterday ----
"Gotcha!"
"What stuff do you have to do that's so urgent, Starsk?"
"Didn't ya see what the storm left out there, Hutch? We got some mess to clean up ---"
"We? This is your neighborhood, buddy!" he mock protested.
"Yeah --" he softly answered, while putting on his Adidas,
"Another fine mess ---".
The ending of and victory over another crisis could not have been more symbolic and accurate.
THE END ****************************************************
(Next story in this series "Giving Thanks")