Too Many, Too Much
It was quite an effort, really, but Hutch stubbornly pushed away the last vestiges of drug-induced sleep and peeled open his eyes to take in the all-too-familiar surroundings. He was in a hospital room. Again. What had happened this time?
Hutch struggled to sit up, but quickly abandoned the effort as his body screamed in protest. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he sank back into the pillow, sucking in a deep breath. Okay, so movement wasn't the best idea right now.
"Ow..." Hutch exhaled softly. At least it wasn't a bullet wound. He was just very bruised, and... He went through a mental checklist, gingerly testing out the different parts of his body. And... his left leg was in a cast, so it was probably broken. His head definitely hurt, but he figured that was the extent of his injuries. He had been lucky this time.
He thought about that for a long moment, trying to puzzle out why that was exactly. The last thing he remembered was trying to take down a man who was about double his size while Starsky was struggling to handcuff the felon's buddy. They had pursued them up to the roof of a four-storey building – why do the bad guys always go up? Hutch wondered absently, and then as the rest of his memory filtered back into his sluggish brain, he worked out a possible reason. So, if they manage to overpower the cop, they can throw him off the roof. No wonder he hurt so much. Good thing that there had been a dumpster directly below him, although the impact had evidently still knocked him unconscious. So what had happened after that?
Hutch opened his eyes again, intending to ask his partner, only to realize that Starsky was no where in sight.
"STARSKY!!" he yelled, frantically resuming his efforts to sit up. What if something had happened to him? Battling two big guys on a rooftop with no back up – "STARSKY!!"
A nurse burst into the room, immediately trying to sooth him. "Detective Hutchinson, please calm down, it's all right-"
"No it's not all right! What happened?" he demanded.
She put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "You suffered a bad fall," she tried to explain, but Hutch cut her off again.
"Not to me, to my partner! Where is he, is he injured? Please don't tell me he's dead."
"Oh," the lady said with a smile. Hutch thought he could throttle her. "You mean Detective Starsky?"
"Yes, I mean Detective Starsky!" He knew that he was yelling, but right now he didn't care.
"Don't worry, he's fine. A little bruised, but that's all," the nurse assured him.
Hutch collapsed back onto the bed in relief. God, Starsk, don't do that to me. Then he frowned. "So where is he?"
"Well, you've been here three days," the lady explained gently. "I think the doctor sent him home to get some rest. He was exhausting himself with worrying about you – he hardly left your bedside for 48 hours straight."
Hutch smiled faintly. That certainly sounded like Starsky. "Do I look that bad?" he asked.
Hazel eyes swept over him appreciatively, and Hutch tried not to blush. "Not to me, honey. But it was quite a blow to your head. You didn't wake up for a long time, and when you did you weren't very coherent. The doctor thought it would be best to let you sleep for a while longer so you would have a chance to heal."
Yep, he'd been drugged. Hutch had thought as much.
"I'd recommend that you rest some more, just until you get your strength back," the nurse continued.
Hutch frowned, but he couldn't deny that he was still sleepy. "When Starsky gets back, I wanna talk to him, so tell him it's okay to wake me up."
"Sure thing."
Hutch stared at the newspaper before him, his mind drifting aimlessly. He was bored and, he had to admit, he missed his partner. It shouldn't have bothered him really, but he'd been awake for hours now and Starsky still hadn't turned up, which wasn't like the brunette at all.
There was a loud knock at the door and Hutch jumped, the newspaper spilling from his lap. "Starsky?" he called hopefully.
"Dobey," the voice corrected gruffly.
Hutch repressed a sigh, knowing that it wasn't his captain's fault that Starsky wasn't around. "Come in!"
Dobey entered with a small smile, the somewhat sheepish one that he always wore when showing concern for his officers. "Hey Hutchinson, how're you feeling?"
Hutch pushed himself into a sitting position and offered a smile. "I'm okay, Captain."
"That's good to hear. We need you and your partner back on the streets."
"Yeah... Speaking of Starsky, I don't suppose you've seen him around?" He tried to make it sound like an off-handed question.
Dobey shook his head. "I'm surprised he's not in here, actually."
Me too, Hutch agreed silently. "So what happened?" he asked, by way of changing the subject. "Last thing I remember is being thrown from the building."
"Well, you know how it is," Dobey said with a reluctant smile. "Starsky gets angrier than a pit bull terrier when it comes to you. As soon as he saw you fall, Starsky had the first guy in handcuffs and was tackling your assailant to the ground. He left 'em chained together around a post. A few minutes later he had called another squad car and an ambulance."
Hutch nodded, grateful for the update. "Our two guys are in the jail house?"
"For now," Dobey affirmed, "and with the attempted murder of a police officer listed in their charges, it shouldn't be too hard to make sure it stays that way for a long time."
"Well, at least something good came of this, huh?" Hutch said with a slight grin.
Dobey harrumphed. "Yeah, but don't make a habit out of it, you hear me? I need my officers in one piece."
"Oh, yes sir," Hutch said obediently, trying not to laugh.
Dobey grunted, apparently not convinced. "Well, the doctors have said that you're okay to go home, provided you get some rest. I suppose, since Starsky isn't around, I could give you a lift."
Hutch smiled, not needing to hear the invitation twice, and swung his legs off the bed, retrieving the crutches that were propped against the wall and settling them under his arms. He was a bit unsteady at first, and it was a little sore, but he figured he could hobble along okay. "Thanks, Captain, but can you drop me at Starsky's place? Otherwise he'll be wondering where I am."
Dobey nodded, and half an hour later Hutch was carefully climbing the steps to Starsky's front door. When his knock didn't receive a response, Hutch noticed that the Torino wasn't in its parking spot and realized that Starsky wasn't home. Dobey had already driven off, so Hutch shrugged and pulled out the spare key that his partner had given him. He knew Starsky wouldn't mind.
When Hutch finally pushed open the door, his jaw dropped in surprise. It looked like someone had ransacked the place. Although, as he studied the room with a calculated gaze, he could tell that nothing was missing, and the door had been locked. No windows were smashed either, which seemed to indicate that Starsky had been the one doing all the damage. But why on earth...?
Hutch shook his head and set about cleaning up the house. Despite what Starsky's desk at the Department might indicate, the brunette was actually a meticulously neat person when it came to his car and home, so for it to be trashed like this something had to be very wrong. Hutch for the life of him couldn't figure out what, no matter how much he pondered it as he continued the mindless task of cleaning.
A small, leather bound book lying in the corner caught Hutch's attention. He'd never seen it before, and it wasn't near the bookcase like the others were. Curious, he knelt awkwardly and picked it up. For a long moment he fingered the cover, noticing that it was old and worn. It didn't have a title, so the only way to find out what it was...
Hutch set aside the crutches and settled against the wall before carefully opening it to the first page. Carefully handwritten in the center were the words//I remember everyone who leaves.//
Hutch's forehead creased into a frown. He almost didn't want to go any further, but this was the only clue he had as to what Starsky was currently thinking. So he took a deep breath and turned the page.
Smiling up at him with a familiarly lopsided grin was a photo of a man who looked very much like Starsky. It wasn't his brother, Nick, Hutch knew, because he had met the younger Starsky, so he guessed that it was Starsky senior, their father.
Hutch's eyes dropped to the caption below it, noticing the childish handwriting and an occasional splotch where the ink had run. He swallowed uncomfortably.
//Daddy was killed last night. Mum and Nicky haven't stopped crying yet, and there have been other people over to the house who look sad too. I think one of them was Dad's partner. Dad is a cop you know, the best ever! Or he was. He was my hero, and I thought that heroes couldn't die. I was wrong. I can't let anyone see me cry; I've got to be strong for them. I'm the man of the house now, so it's my job to take care of them. I'm writing this because I can't say it out loud, but I miss him. I wish that this was all a bad dream, that he was here and he hadn't been shot. I love him so much... and I'll always remember him.//
By the time he finished reading the words of young David Starsky, Hutch was struggling to hold back tears of his own. He knew he shouldn't go any further, but he had to know.
This time, it was a picture of a young woman and a small boy, perhaps eight or nine. It looked like the photo had been scrunched up and then pressed flat again to be stuck inside the book.
//Mum said that we were just visiting Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie. LIAR! She just took Nicky back home with her and left me here. She said it was for my own good, because I was starting to hang out with a bad crowd in New York and they could get me in a lot of trouble. What does she know? She didn't seem to mind that I bought Nicky a new pair of sneakers 'cause his were dead, or that I've brought home food when she wasn't earning enough to feed us. And then I get a little roughed up when defending Nicky from a rival gang, and all of a sudden she up and leaves me here. I've lost everyone this year; my Dad, my family, my friends. Why did she have to leave? I miss her.//
On the next page Hutch found a group photo of six men in military gear. Nineteen-year-old Starsky was second from the left, grinning as usual. But Hutch knew him well enough to recognize that the smile hid nervousness, and even fear.
//This is Ross, me, Andrew, Caleb, Jayden, and Micheal just before we set out for Vietnam. We knew the risks, but we were still determined that we'd watch each other's backs and make it outta that hellhole alive. Only me and Caleb survived, though. Jayden was the first to go – he was gunned down as we sprinted from the helicopter when we landed in that damned jungle. Andrew fell into a hidden pit of bamboo spikes. Ross was caught in an explosion. Micheal was beaten half-to-death in a POW camp, and then I watched him succumb to an illness because of the appalling conditions. Caleb and I were tortured, but I guess he got it worse, because the doctors say that he retreated into his mind and can't find his way back to us. So it's really only me left. They were all good friends, and good soldiers. They deserve to be remembered.//
"Oh, Starsk..." Hutch whispered. How on earth had Starsky recovered from that ordeal? Especially since the US civilians gave the Vietnam veterans such a chilly reception when they came home. Hutch felt like an idiot – as a young, innocent college kid without a clue of what was really happening, he had joined in the rallies and protests against the war. He hadn't been exactly cold to the returned soldiers, but he hadn't welcomed them with open arms either. If only he had known...
Hutch swallowed again and turned the page. This time he recognized the person in the photo – it was Helen, one of Starsky's old girlfriends who had been killed a few months after they split up. He quickly looked down at the writing, attempting to quell the nausea as he remembered the gruesome sight of Helen's dead body, crazily wrapped in antennae wire. There were two entries.
//Helen and I broke it off yesterday. It was touch and go for a while, so I wasn't surprised when it happened. Just... disappointed. I know we argued, but I loved her. We even talked about settling down, having a family. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I'll always remember the good times, though, like going to the beach, walking in the park, snuggling together under a tree or watching the sunset together. We were a good couple. I guess just not good enough.//
//When we received a report of a 187 a few days ago, I never would have guessed that it would be Helen's body. I thought I had left my feelings for her behind after we went our separate ways a few months ago, but it turns out I still love her, and her death hurts. I can't hate the killer, because it wasn't really his fault, and I wish I had been able to save him. I wish I could have saved Helen too, for that matter. Hutch says that none of this was my fault, and I know he's right. It's hard, though.//
Hutch pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, willing himself not to cry, even as his heart ached for his friend who had been forced to endure far too much. When he eventually turned the page, though, he couldn't prevent the tears from spilling down his cheeks. Terri.
//Terri taught me what love is. She was sweet and understanding, she accepted the uncertainty of my job and never resented me when I missed a date. "Best friends don't have to promise," she said more than once. And she still loved me, even after she was shot by Prudholm just because I loved her, and he wanted to hurt me. She chose spending her last days with me over the possibility of living longer. She was determined to get on with her life and not let her condition prevent her from doing so. She was so brave when the bullet moved and she knew that she was going to die in a matter of hours. Her main concern was for the children... and for me. Her last breaths were spent making sure that I knew how much she loved me. Terri, baby, I love you too. I'm so sorry...//
Hutch sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the overwhelming rush of emotions. He really felt Starsky's pain this time, because he had loved Terri too, if not quite in the same way or depth as his partner. But he had seen how special she was, and how perfectly suited she and Starsky were to each other. He had never seen Starsky happier than the times that they were together, or more traumatized than when they had been brutally torn apart. It had taken a long time for Starsky to start dating again, and even then Hutch had known that Starsky was always comparing them to Terri. In fact, it had taken Rosey Malone to make Starsky fall in love again.
And with a sinking heart, Hutch knew who it was that he would find on the next page, because that relationship had ended too. Hutch teased Starsky about his lack of success with women, and he had even warned the brunette about falling for Rosey, but the truth was, Hutch knew that Starsky gave of his heart freely. It was one of the things that Hutch loved about his partner, and yet all too often it was what caused Starsky the most pain.
Hutch flipped past Rosey's entry, sincerely hoping that there wouldn't be any others, but there was, if this time without a photo.
//I never even knew her name, but she was the sweetest old lady I have ever met. She helped me through a tough time, comforting me and offering assurance, always knowing exactly what to say. And all the while, she was dying from terminal cancer, and not once did I hear her complain. I never told her how much I appreciated all she did for me, although I think that she knew. When she died the world lost a very special lady.//
Hutch sighed and idly flicked through the remaining blank pages. He was beginning to see a similarity between the way Starsky handled physical pain and how he coped with emotional pain. When he was only marginally injured, Starsky talked about it openly and complained like a child. Likewise, if the emotional hurt didn't cut too deep, Starsky easily laughed it off and moved on. On the other hand, when he was seriously wounded Starsky became more quiet and withdrawn, trying to deal with it on his own so that Hutch wouldn't worry about him. Evidently, this book was Starsky's way of doing that with his emotional baggage. He lashed out angrily first, but when he had to comes to terms with it, he jotted down his feelings in this little book of 'remembering everyone who leaves'.
Hutch blinked in surprise as another realization hit him. He glanced up at the still slightly messy condition of Starsky's house, and then back down at the book. Put two and two together, and it became obvious that recently Starsky must have done exactly that – lash out, and then confide in his old, leather-bound journal. But why...?
He was about to close the back cover of the book, when Hutch suddenly realized that the last few pages weren't blank like he had originally thought. He smoothed out the page holding the photograph, and then he froze.
Looking back out at him was one Ken Hutchinson.
It was hard to swallow past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Oh, Starsk, I would never leave you.
He looked down at the passages of writing, noticing how many of them there were. Morbidly curious, Hutch started to read.
//I know that I would never forget Hutch, but I love him more than I've ever loved anyone, and I need him in here. I don't know how he did it, but Hutch has become not only my partner, but my best friend, my trusted confident, my comforter and more of a brother to me than Nicky ever was. Everyone else in this book meant a lot to me, but I know that if I were ever to lose Hutch, my world would never be right again. Everyone I love seems to leave one way or another, and my worst fear is that, by loving Hutch as much as I do, I'm dooming both of us. In our line of work, our lives are almost constantly in danger, so its more likely than not that someday Hutch will be hurt so bad that the doctors won't be able to save him. When that time comes, I know that I am going to die alongside Hutch, intentionally or otherwise, because I can't live without him anymore.//
//Oh God, I thought I'd lost Hutch today. And if he hadn't been wearing a bulletproof vest, I would have. It's stupid to be upset, I know Hutch would say so, because I found out that he was okay within minutes, if a little cut up. But in those few minutes... it was only adrenaline that let me finish the job, and although everyone seems to think otherwise, I'm not so sure that I didn't shoot the gas tank on purpose. I was too upset to think about it much, but there was a sick satisfaction when I saw the car go up in a fireball and I thought that I had killed the guys who had killed Hutch. I was sure that as I sped back to my partner that all I was going to find was his dead body, and I think my heart almost stopped. I know that I stopped breathing for a while there. It was too damned close.//
//Hutch is missing, possibly dead. The last time my partner vanished was almost as bad, but I never let myself think that they had killed him, because all the evidence suggested otherwise. He could have died – Hutch said afterwards that they had planned on dropping his body off the pier – but Hutch managed to escape, and I got him back eventually. He was hurting badly, but he was alive, and we got through it. This time... I still don't want to acknowledge the possibility that Hutch is dead, but this time a professional hit man was after him, and I can't find him anywhere. I'm still trying as hard as I can, and I won't stop until I find him, or his body. Hutch, if you're still alive, you gotta hang in there. I know you must be badly hurt, or you would have called me, but just don't give up, okay? I'm going to find you. Please hold on. I don't wanna lose you. I can't.//
//Damned doctors, leading us into a false sense of security. They said that Hutch and I weren't infected, and then they go and tell us that Hutch has contracted the disease that has claimed at least one life already. If I don't find the cure in time, then Hutch is going to die. And because the plague is infectious, I can't even be with him. Damned doctors, can't they understand that we need each other? I'm suppose to just watch him suffer and die slowly through a thick inch of glass and a chasm of distance. He can't even breathe properly anymore, oh God I'm losing him. Hutch, I wanna be there with you, I really do, but I have to find this guy. There's a chance that I can save you, so don't die while I'm away. You understand me, buddy? I need to be there if... Hutch, please don't think I've left you alone, and please... don't leave me.//
//Hutch has amnesia. I'm so grateful that the crash didn't kill him, but this is almost as bad. God, why was I such an idiot? Why didn't I listen to him when he told me to slow down? He doesn't remember anything, he doesn't remember me... We've been through so much together, and now he can't even remember my name. He doesn't want to talk to me, and when he does his remarks are cold and cutting. I can't stop loving him, but I'm not sure I can survive not having the Hutch I know to love me back.//
//I hate hospital vigils. Hutch was shot, and they won't let me in to see him, they won't tell me how he is. I didn't get a good look at the bullet wound, but there was too much blood, and it was way too close to the heart. He could be dying right now, and they wouldn't tell me until it was too late to say goodbye. I can't lose him. Hutch, don't die on me, hang in there. I'd be going crazy if it wasn't for this sweet old lady who is keeping me company. She says that Hutch will be okay, and I want to believe her. So Hutch, don't you dare prove her wrong. I should have been there to back him up, if he dies I don't think I could ever forgive myself. Hutch, you have to be okay. Please be okay.//
//Hutch was thrown off a four-storey building, and two days later, he hasn't woken up yet. The doctor sent me home to get some rest, because apparently not sleeping for over 48 hours is bad for you. Frankly, I think not knowing how Hutch is doing is worse, so damn that interfering doctor for banning me from the hospital for 'at least 36 hours'. How the hell does he expect me to sleep? Destroying the house was more relaxing than tossing and turning under the covers would have been. But damn it, I don't think even that can make it better anymore. I've come close to losing Hutch too many times. How many near-death entries have I written in here by now? Too many. It's killing me to love him so much, and I think it's killing him too. But I can't help it. Oh Hutch, I'm sorry. If it hadn't taken me so long to cuff my guy I could have gotten there in time to stop yours from throwing you off the roof. Or maybe I should have taken on the bigger guy in the first place. Either way, it's my fault you were almost killed, and I'm not so sure you're not dying now, whatever the doctor says. I know I feel like I'm dying. Every minute that passes is killing me that little bit more. But I know that I'll never be able to stop loving you, no matter what happens or how much it hurts. I love you, Hutch.//
Hutch didn't know when his unsteady breathing had become shuddering sobs, or when the flood of tears had begun to cascade down his cheeks. All he knew was that he couldn't stop crying long after he had finished reading the last words.
Oh God, Starsky, why didn't you ever tell me how much you were hurting? I knew about Helen, and Terri, and Rosey, and I sort of knew about your dad, but I never understood how much pain you were actually in. And I never really thought about what I was doing to you. When I think about it, I've felt the same way when you were missing, or injured, or dying, but we don't seem to talk about it much, do we? We're just so grateful to have each other back, safe and sound, and it's so much easier to just laugh and joke. But I know that I still have nightmares, and it's pretty obvious that you're hurting too-
"Hutch?"
Hutch was so lost in his thoughts that the unexpected voice caused him to jerk violently, and the leather bound book skidded away. He looked up at his blurry surroundings, and gradually Starsky swam into view.
"What are you doing here, Hutch? Did they let you out of the hospital?"
Hutch brushed away the tears in his eyes, trying to concentrate on what Starsky was saying. "Huh? Oh yeah. I came looking for you." He tried to hoist a smile onto his face. "Missed ya, buddy."
"'S that why you're crying?"
Hutch rubbed a hand over his tear-streaked face, then reached out to try and grasp the nearby couch so he could lever himself up. "Who's crying?"
Starsky moved forward and grabbed his outstretched arm, pulling him off the floor. Hutch, weak with emotional fatigue, sagged against his friend, who gently wrapped his arms around him.
"You are," Starsky said quietly, but he didn't push it.
"So where were you, huh?" Hutch asked.
"I went down to the beach for some air," Starsky admitted. "I guess I lost track of time."
"Oh," Hutch said simply, accepting the explanation. He had worried for a while there that Starsky had gone out to drown his sorrows with the bottle, but there wasn't any alcohol on his breath, and he was a lot steadier than Hutch was at the moment.
"You okay, Hutch?" Starsky asked softly, his voice laced with concern and... remorse? "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time... but you woke up, huh? You all right now?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"
Starsky pulled back slightly, a startled expression on his face. "I'm not the one who was thrown off a four-storey building."
"Yeah, but..." Hutch gestured vaguely at the still slightly messy room.
Starsky blushed faintly. "You cleaned up, huh? I just needed to get rid of some excess energy, is all." He shrugged dismissively.
Hutch didn't buy it. "You couldn't have gone for a run instead?"
Starsky stiffened, and Hutch inwardly kicked himself for the unintentional reference to the Rosey incident. "It's none of your business."
"Yes it is, Starsky. I'm allowed to be concerned."
Starsky looked away, and his gaze fell on the leather-bound book. His mouth parted slightly, and then his expression hardened. "You didn't."
Hutch swallowed. "Starsky-"
"Hutch, I don't wanna hear it!" Starsky snapped, snatching up the book. He grabbed the crutches and pushed them at Hutch. "Get outta here."
"I can't drive," Hutch said in a small voice. He saw guilt flash over Starsky's features, but it wasn't enough to defuse his anger.
"Fine," he said irritably, snatching up his jacket and storming towards the front door.
"Starsky, don't go. Don't push me away. I'm sorry, but I was worried about you-"
"So you thought that reading something this private would make me feel better?" Starsky growled, turning to pin him with a glare.
"I thought it would help me understand!" Hutch blurted. This wasn't going at all the way he wanted, but he knew that they had to talk.
"And did it?" There was a hard edge to Starsky's voice, but he let go of the door handle.
"Yeah," Hutch said quietly. "It helped me realize how amazing you are. After everything you've been through, everyone you've lost... Anyone else would have retreated from the world and barred their hearts for fear of getting hurt again."
"Amazing?" Starsky snorted. "I must be an idiot for not doing exactly that. How many more people have to die before I come to my senses and realize that the world would be better off without me?"
"Don't say that. You know that it isn't true."
"Oh yeah? Did you bother to count how many good people have died because of me?"
"None," Hutch said firmly. "You weren't responsible for any of them – not even Terri."
"If I hadn't started going out with her-"
"Starsky, you couldn't have known-"
"But I should have!" Starsky yelled. "Everyone else I loved has died, so I should have known the same thing would happen, and just ended it before-"
"Starsky, she died because Prudholm is a sick man-"
"And he is sick because I got his son killed!"
"Starsky! Would you listen to me?!" Hutch knew that his voice had risen, and struggled to stay in control. "Whatever you may think, it wasn't your fault. And besides, have you ever bothered to count how many good people haven't died because of you? Because there is a helluva lot of them. Myself included."
Starsky scowled. "I wasn't much of a help when you were being flung from the rooftop, was I?"
"You were doing your job, Starsky-"
"No, my job is to protect you. That's why we have partners. And I failed."
"Starsky, I'm okay-"
"How many times, Hutch? How many times wouldn't you have been if you weren't so damn lucky? What if there hadn't been a dumpster? What if the bullets had hit you an inch or so from where they did? What if it had taken me a day longer to find you in that canyon? What if I hadn't found the cure for the plague in time? What if-" Starsky broke off, his body shuddering. A tear slipped down his cheek. "Too many," he whispered. "Hutch, don't you understand? I love you too much..."
Hutch hobbled forward, then dropped the crutches and drew his partner into his arms. "Starsk, all those times, it was your love that kept me going," he murmured into the dark curls. "And babe, I love you, too."
Starsky looked up at him, blue eyes glistening with tears. "Me and Thee, huh?" he said softly.
Hutch smiled and rested his forehead against Starsky's. "Always," he promised.
(Note to the readers – I can't decide whether or not this fan fiction is finished, so if anyone can think of something that would wrap it up more completely then I would love to hear it. Thanks for reading!)