Goodbyes, or the Lack Thereof
by Allie
There are some things Starsky doesn't like to say.
It hurts.
I'm afraid.
I don't want to die.
Goodbye.
Some he says. One, he doesn't.
His time counts down, the poison working its slow way through his system. Maybe it will be the last time he sees Hutch, but all the same, he can't say this word: goodbye.
I promised I'd never go.
It happened early in their partnership, a promise that caught both of them by surprise.
They'd had a disagreement. Hutch blew it out of proportion, thought Starsky meant to ask for a new partner or a transfer.
He couldn't stand to see Hutch looking like that.
"You're not gonna see the back of me that easy, Hutch. I'm here for the long haul."
Now that haul was looking shorter and shorter as each stage of his poisoning progressed. As it proved how weak his body could be. He wouldn't have believed it. He'd always been strong. Was in the peak of health just last week...
Hutch.
He'd promised not to go, and now he was going. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right! Who would watch the big blond Blintz's back?
All he could do, as he closed his eyes and the gurney was rolled away, was wonder if he would see his dad. And who would look after Hutch.
Do they let you come back and keep a guard on people? You see, I promised...
He didn't want to say goodbye.
So he hadn't.
He couldn't break what they had. He couldn't let go so easily, even if he died.
You're not getting rid of me that easy, Blintz...