Cut and Broken

by ElspethNZ

It is only days after Hutch has been rescued from Ben Forest's clutches. Is Hutch really coping and how will he manage if his partner has to go away?

CUT AND BROKEN

by: Elspeth

Thank God, it was all over... all but the healing...

It had been twenty-four hours now since they had cuffed Forest at his flashy mansion and hopefully sent him well on his way to whichever prison would take the drug baron. Dobey had given Hutch three weeks 'special' leave to allow him to recover fully from his ordeal and start looking like his old self again, 'put some meat on his bones again' as he had put it to Starsky.

However much they knocked Dobey he always came through for them in the end and they knew how much he valued them as part of the Bay City Police team.

Starsky too had of course been given the same amount of leave as Hutch. Dobey knew full well there was no way Starsky would return to work until his partner was recovered from this horrific trauma. And that is what it was. Who would ever think of torturing a police officer in such a cruel way - cruel and calculated?

Hutch now needed the physical healing from the beatings to his face and torso, which had left his body, painted a myriad of colours. Of course the hardest task was when Starsky had found him in that alley and saw the tracks on his arm. He never thought for a second Hutch had self-inflicted this, unlike Bernie had thought. From the first moment though, Starsky had known what a task was in front of them for those initial days to get Hutch over his cravings for heroin. He had held his hand for the whole way. He had been so shit scared to see Hutch like that. Like a stranger, no one he knew. The fear in Hutch's eyes. The filth on his body and in it. The remains of the heroin trickling through his veins, not wishing to leave and Hutch not wanting it to leave either. Begging Starsky for more of the 'stuff', out of his mind. Out of control. Terrified and confused all at the same time. Worried he had betrayed his darling Jeanie.

But Starsky had held him when he was shaking and convulsing. Just held him when he needed it. Rubbed his back as he vomited, it seemed hour after hour. God it had been hard, for both of them but they had come through it.

Now there was the healing of Hutch's spirit and soul. The mental scarring was deep and while it seemed the hard part may have been over there was still a long road ahead for Hutch to feel completely cured before he returned to work. Like so many of the victims they dealt with on a day to day basis, would Hutch ever fully recover mentally? Starsky knew the mental scars would be with Hutch forever but he also knew time would ease the pain. How many times had they said this off the cuff remark to their victims on the street, 'time will heal' but he knew it had proved to be true having been through his own ordeals in the past.

Hutch was half the man he had been a few weeks ago in both senses of the word. He had been through so much with Forest's 'hired help'. The shots of heroin that were forcibly given to him and the physical beatings he had endured at the beginning of his capture when he wouldn't give away his beautiful Jeanie's location for anything, for fear of her getting hurt by Forest. But then the big 'H' took hold of him and his mind and Forest got Jeanie anyway.

How low could a man go Hutch thought? He knew it wasn't his fault or at least he thought he did but it sure as hell didn't make him feel any better.

The usual question of 'why me' was always in his mind it seemed. He had lost his wonderful Jeanie, his body felt abused and savaged and the feeling the drug gave him still seemed to linger in his veins. He could understand better now why addicts had this love/hate thing with drugs going on. He too was an addict he assumed though a cured one. 'Hi, I'm Ken and I'm into heroin'. Oh God, that's fucking great.

Yep, it sure would take a while to get his emotions in check and he knew it but thank goodness he had Starsky by his side helping him through and yeah, he would get out the other side.

He had to.

Starsky had insisted on staying at Hutch's canal cottage even though Hutch had felt bad about only having the couch to offer him. Starsky could only imagine what his best friend and partner had gone through but had a pretty good idea from the wrecked state that he had found him in, in the alley. He was only too aware that the cottage, Hutch's sanctuary was where he had been attacked and dragged unconscious to Forest's waiting car. The cottage was small but homely and Starsky hadn't broached the subject yet of how the attack had actually occurred but he had seen the massive lump and healing cut on the back of Hutch's head which he knew is where the thugs had struck him. Just the thought of it made his blood boil. Here he was, now trying to help pick up the shattered pieces of his partner's life.

But they would do it together and they would get through it. Just like when Hutch had always been there all the way, 110% for him when he needed it. All the dealing's with thugs in their line of work. Hazard of the job right?

Starsky planned to just take it quietly with Hutch and stay in the cottage getting him to feel comfortable again in his own space as he could imagine how vulnerable Hutch would be feeling.

There was just one problem.

Starsky had been booked to fly back to New York in a few days time for his mother's sixtieth birthday. The whole family was going to be there and he couldn't miss his precious mother's special day. It was a surprise party and he just had to be there. The ticket had been booked months before when his Aunt Rosie phoned to tell him of the plans. He was only going to be in New York for the up coming weekend as he had planned to be working and wasn't going to take any more than a day's leave. It couldn't have come at a worse time. It was Wednesday night already and he was to fly out Friday morning at 10.00 a.m, back Sunday at 8.00 p.m. He wouldn't be gone long but it was bad timing and he knew it. It was only twenty-four hours since Forest had hopefully exited their lives for good and Hutch was still so weak and vulnerable. Starsky had seen exactly how weak Hutch was at the mansion when his partner had got Forest to assume the arrest position and could hardly frisk the guy, as he was so damned exhausted. Then the knock back from Jeanie, yeah, great timing lady. She could have dumped him a bit later, at least given Hutch time to draw breath.

Well Starsky would have to just come out with it and hope like hell Hutch understood. He'd tell him after they had their dinner.

The pizza sure was good and Hutch even managed to eat more than Starsky had hoped, but would it stay down? Hutch had been starved of food for days by Forest, which made the heroin so much more effective as Forest damn well knew. Sure, they had given him the basic water but that was it.

Then Starsky had to give him coffee and candy bars, hardly a good wholesome diet but it was all Hutch could cope with. The pizza was in fact the first real food Hutch had eaten in a good while. No wonder he looked like skin and bones right now. The taut muscles seemed to have melted away but Starsky knew they'd be back. He'd make damn sure of it. Hutch's saving grace had probably been how fit and healthy he had been when he was taken. He looked at him now in his robe with just his boxer shorts on and how painfully obvious it was, all the weight that had fallen off him. He also saw the ugly bruises on his chest. A dark gray, purple shade. It was lucky they hadn't broken any ribs, just bruised them.

Of course the bruises on his face were worst and Hutch couldn't hide them just yet. Mainly around his left eye and cheek where he had been thumped more than once. Thank God they hadn't damaged his eye. Only Starsky had seen the bruises on his back too where he had literally been kicked when he was down. How sick is that? It really made his stomach churn. Hutch's ribs were prominent and his face looked pale and tired. His eyes had bags under them, the size of suitcases! It made Starsky sad and angry at the same time how a fellow human being could behave in this way. Punching, kicking, hitting out at his defenseless partner.

Oh and the track marks on his left arm, scabbing over now. Punctures into a helpless soul. Ugly reminders like a tattoo, saying 'He's an addict' to the world. Starsky prayed they would fade the fastest.

His thoughts were suddenly broken.

"Hey, that wasn't half bad Starsk. Not my usual choice of a meal but yeah it certainly filled a spot, might even have another piece".

Starsky was pleased to see his partner finally eating food even if it was only pizza but was also feeling a bit anxious now that Hutch might be over-doing it in his fragile state right now.

"That's great Hutch but leave it at that buddy, otherwise you might be regretting it later, if you take my meaning"

Hutch took his point and nodded as he devoured the last piece.

"Uh, Hutch I've got something to ask you."

"Ask away Starsk"

"Well, it's Ma's sixtieth birthday this Friday and Aunt Rosie has organized a big surprise party for her and well, I had booked to fly there a few months back and I uh, well..."

Hutch could sense his friend's unease.

"Starsky of course you have to go to your Mother's birthday. You weren't going to ask me were you? Lighten up will ya, I'll be fine. There is no way I would let you miss her special day. You mean everything to her Starsk and you know it"

But despite the brave words Hutch felt his heart sink just a bit. There was no way he could let his buddy not miss this family occasion. He knew how much Starsky's family meant to him unlike his own. He was instantly frightened though of how vulnerable he felt and Starsky was his only lifeline. But he had to let him go. He was a big boy, he would cope. Wouldn't he?

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure? Shit, it's really bad timing and... Well... maybe I should just explain to Aunt Rosie..."

"Would you quit it Starsk, GO. Okay?"

"Well, I'll be back Sunday night and you can always call Huggy if you have a problem. I just feel the timing is so bad. I'm really sorry Hutch. Are you really sure? Will you promise me you'll just chill out and take it easy here?"

"Quit worrying would ya, I'll be fine and it is only two days like you say. I'll even take you to the airport myself, and pick you up, as long as we go in my car okay?"

"Sure, that sounds great, if you really are sure."

"I am, now subject closed."

Starsky felt so much better and Hutch seemed to genuinely want him to go, and it was as Hutch said only two days.

The darkness came quickly it seemed that night and after Starsky had cleaned up the pizza boxes, he found Hutch had fallen asleep on the couch. He tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Hey, sleepyhead. It's 10.00 o'clock, how about you get in your own bed now and get some rest?"

Hutch jerked awake and then relaxed, realising it was Starsky.

"Yeah, guess I'll hit the hay buddy."

He got up somewhat slowly and awkwardly trying to avoid bumping anything that was going to hurt and gradually made his way to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he slipped his robe off, hung it on the back of the bathroom door and came back into the lounge to see Starsky making the couch up for himself that night.

"Hey, thanks for staying Starsk. I really do appreciate it. I'll see ya in the morning."

"Hey, wouldn't be anywhere else. Try and get a good sleep. Night."

"Night."

Starsky watched his weary partner turn. His battered and abused body exposed in all its glory. While it still shocked the shit out of Starsky, he tried not to show it. Hutch did not need attention brought to his physical state at the moment.

Hutch fell into a deep sleep straight away but it wasn't long before he awoke with a sick feeling in his gut. As the nausea started to rise to his throat he got himself out of his bed as soon as his body would allow and raced to the bathroom where he proceeded to heave over the toilet. Damn, he should've listened to Starsky. Too much, too soon and now he was regretting it. He started to shake as the heaves set in and his gut convulsed. As he thought it was dissipating Starsky came through the door having been awakened by the disturbance.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?"

Seemed a ridiculous question really, but Hutch knew what he meant.

"Yeah, yeah Starsk. I should've listened to ya about that pizza. You were right."

Starsky bent down to be at Hutch's level and started to rub his back in a circular motion.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah, thanks. I think I'm all done. Ain't nothin' left to come up."

Hutch got wearily to his feet and staggered a bit. He really was a mess. When would he start to feel 'normal' again?

Starsky rubbed a cold wash cloth over Hutch's face and neck before helping him back to bed. Thank God he made it to the bathroom he thought!

"I'll be fine Starsk, sorry to have woken you. It was just overdoin' it with that pizza. I've learned my lesson," he grinned wryly.

"Okay, well if you're sure that's it, get some sleep and I'll hopefully not see you until the morning now."

Starsky headed back to the couch and settled back to sleep.

Hutch pulled the sheet up over his bare chest. His body was naked apart from his boxers but his soul felt somehow naked too. He felt hollow and empty. He felt a wreck. When would it end? He let a tear escape to fall down his bruised cheek. 'Pull yourself together Ken' that's what his Father would have said. If he saw him now, well he'd write him out of the family inheritance! Hutch smirked at his own humour. He made not a sound. He didn't want to wake Starsky. He couldn't have faced him anyway. He felt so fragile, so helpless and now his link to sanity was going even if it was only for the weekend.

Eventually he drifted off to a troublesome sleep full of leering ghouls staring down at him and laughing maniacally. He soon woke from his horrible nightmares, the sweat pouring off him and he was shaken to his core with fear.

Just a dream. Not real. Just a dream

He listened and thankfully heard Starsky snoring; glad he had not disturbed him.

He couldn't go back to sleep, as he was too afraid of what his dreams would bring. He lay still and stared at the ceiling and again without warning the silent tears came.

Fuck, you are one walking disaster Hutchinson, hope you make it out the other side.

Once again sleep claimed him.

"Hey, rise and shine buddy."

Starsky looked to Hutch's bed and could tell he probably hadn't had a great night due to the state of disarray the sheets were in. It was after 9.00 and he thought they could go for a walk or down to the beach, as it was truly a beautiful day.

After a bit of groaning from Hutch, he swung his legs over to the floor and made his way slowly to the bathroom. He was relieved the night was over and with it the nightmares. The nights were so long since Starsky had found him in that alley. Because of this he was like a walking zombie in the day. He had to hope that three weeks leave ought to get him back on track and it was only week one after all.

"Do ya wanna try some cereal Hutch?" Starsky's voice came from the kitchen.

"I better leave it for a bit Starsk, after last night's performance, but thanks anyway."

After going through the motions of showering and getting dressed, Hutch felt exhausted and plopped down on the couch.

"Hey, I thought we could head down to the beach today seeing as it's such a great day, what do you think?"

"Kinda public don't you think Starsk with all my 'face' make-up?"

"Hey, don't worry about that, just wear a baseball cap. No one's looking at ya, come on. Let's go. The sunshine and all that fresh air, not to mention all the beautiful girls to look at. It'll do ya good," said Starsky grinning.

How could Hutch resist that Starsky logic and charm?

They found themselves at Venice Beach watching all the entertainment go by and Starsky was right, Hutch hardly stood out with all the colourful characters around.

He did however feel safer with a baseball cap on and a long sleeved T-shirt to hide the needle marks. The hot sun sure felt good even though he would normally have just a pair of shorts on with his tanned bare chest exposed to the rays. For now though it was good and it felt good to have Starsky by his side, just being there for him. He honestly couldn't recall any other individual caring as much for him as Starsky did.

They stopped at a beachside cafe for lunch. Starsky was saddened by Hutch's subconscious hunched demeanour and how he avoided eye contact with the staff and patrons of the cafe, but it was understandable. He longed to see his buddy back to his normal self, giving him grief over his car and poor taste in food. It wouldn't be long though. It was after all, still early days.

All in all they had a good day and no mention of Forest or Hutch's condition was made.

Though Hutch hadn't eaten much at lunch at least he had kept it down which was in itself an achievement.

Come dinner time at Hutch's cottage, Starsky had gone all out to make a Hutch type dinner - a grilled chicken salad. Only problem was Hutch didn't want it. Said he felt too tired and his stomach was still feeling unsettled. While he thanked Starsky for putting such thought into the meal he felt he couldn't tell him the truth, that his mind was not on food right now. He was feeling so up-tight about Starsky's impending departure in just twelve hours and was trying to get his head around how he could cope or more if he could cope.

They both went to bed about 11.00 and Hutch hoped like hell he would have a peaceful last night with his buddy nearby.

He was wrong.

The ghouls were back with a vengeance. He couldn't live like this. When would it stop?

The answer was to not sleep which was damn difficult when your body was exhausted and crying out for rest.

Somehow he struggled through the night and was so relieved when he saw the sun coming up, through the window. Another night down, how many to go? But now he had to put on a brave face for Starsky's departure. He was not going to spoil this weekend for his buddy at any cost.

Starsky had slipped back to his place early that morning while Hutch was having a moment of seemingly peaceful slumber to get his clothes to pack and a carryall bag. He came back at 9.30 by which time it really was time to go, as traffic could be unpredictable heading north to the airport.

"You sure you're okay to drive me Hutch? You really don't have to, if you're not up to it."

"I'm fine Starsk, it's the least I can do buddy, and I want to do it."

"Well, let's hit the road then." Starsky was like a big kid all right. He was so excited about this trip, you could see it all over his face. There was no way Hutch could deny him of such pleasure.

So, after a reasonably good drive they were at the airport and parked up in good time. They got to the gate and the boarding call was made.

"You have a great time Starsk" as Hutch gave him a friendly touch on the shoulder.

"Say Hi to your Mom for me."

"Thanks Hutch, I will. Take it easy and I'll see you here Sunday night. Once I'm back we'll really do all those things we're always talkin' about but never do. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure Starsk."

Starsky was so saddened by Hutch's demeanour. It hurt him to the core but they would work at it and things would soon be back to normal. Right now though he had to keep Hutch's spirits up. He gave Hutch a hug which he hadn't planned to but it felt so right and so good.

Hutch returned the bear hug. Yeah, of course he'd be all right. It was only two days, well three days and two nights but who's counting?

"See ya Sunday Starsk" with that Hutch turned and walked toward the exit. He didn't want Starsky to see the desperation in his eyes and the tears that were threatening to fall. Man, he felt so out of control. His world was spiraling somewhere down in too much of a hurry.

When Hutch returned to his cottage he opened the door so carefully as he recalled being attacked just over a week ago at the same spot. He would have felt safe enough if Starsky was with him, probably never given it another thought but he now felt so alone and so very vulnerable.

I guess this is what depression is like, I've heard of it but us Hutchinson's don't ever get it. Only low-lifes get it. Snap out of it boy. Ain't gonna do you any good you know.

Man, he was pathetic.

The day was spent with the TV on but he couldn't concentrate on anything for long. He couldn't, didn't want to venture out even though like yesterday it was a beautiful day. He thought of Starsky winging his way across the country and how thrilled his Aunt Rosie would be to see him at the airport. She had flown from Bay City the previous week to be with her sister. Yeah, Starsky was going to have a great weekend.

He didn't feel hungry, but he felt exhausted. He just dozed on and off while he sat on the couch. What was he going to do when night fell and the demons came again?

How could you let those bastards do this to you? You're a cop dammit. You should have been able to see what was happening. Get out somehow. Escape. You're pathetic.

Then he saw it. A beautiful glass bottle sitting tucked away in the corner of his kitchen bench. It's label just visible. Whiskey. Maybe that would relax him, yeah of course it would, For medicinal purposes right? One glass would be fine. Even Starsky would have had one with him. It felt so good as they say. The warm comforting liquid slid so softly down his throat and into his gut. He closed his eyes and felt the instant warmth as it hit him.

But one wouldn't do it, would it? No, he had to blow it and drown himself in it. After a couple of hours the nearly full bottle had been emptied.

Who gives a fuck though, it feels great. Best I've felt since that motherfucker grabbed me. Bastard, prick who does he think he is? Oh yeah, God's gift to women and one of the top Bay City drug lords, that's right. That's who the fuck he is. I'm just a pathetic cop that will never amount to much - right? Disappointed the parents and now even my partner won't want to know me. Med. School dropout, failed marriage and ex heroin addict. Not even good enough for Jeanie anymore. The woman I loved. Her beautiful silken hair that felt so soft. We could've gone places Jeanie. Yeah, sure.

It was nearly nightfall when he awoke. He felt hung over sure but the demons had stayed away hadn't they? Well, he couldn't remember them so that had to be good.

He suddenly felt so very alone and wanted someone to need him, to love him but the room was empty. His bed was empty. He used to be able to have his pick of women, remember? Who would want him now? Now he was an addict. Used goods. Rotten to the core.

Slowly, though the euphoria of the alcohol hit. He had the confidence of a thousand men now he had the alcohol in him. He wasn't going to sit around in this sorry state. He could go out, why not? He would go somewhere no one knew him, blend into the crowd. A nightclub maybe where it was dark and no one would see his battered face. He needed someone; maybe the love of a woman would help? He had never used women as sexual objects before but he yearned to just be held, needed and loved once more. To feel he was whole again and not shattered in a thousand pieces like he felt right now.

He summoned the energy to get up and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. He caught sight of his once toned body, now scrawny in his eyes with ribs visible and bruises back and front. Here was a man who prided himself on health and fitness. A man, who did all the right things, ate the right foods and jogged every day and then this happens. Before the 'Why Me' syndrome kicked into his brain again he got dressed in jeans which were too damn loose, so a belt was quickly found, another long sleeved T-shirt as the tracks were still all to obvious and a baseball cap tilted down over his eyes. Those eyes that once sparkled a beautiful cornflower blue were now a dulled gray it seemed.

He knew Starsky wouldn't be ringing him tonight as the big party was that night and he was going to be run off his feet with that.

He felt good, even if it was false bravado as he stepped into the night. He summoned a cab and went to a nightclub he had heard of but had never been to. He figured no one would know him there and he wouldn't be accountable to anyone for his looks or actions.

He paid the driver and headed into the throng of patrons.

His head was starting to thump along with the music and it occurred to him, the fact that he hadn't eaten that day would not have helped. So, hair of the dog and all he went to the bar and ordered a double whiskey on the rocks. Despite feeling less than handsome and wondering if the whole world could see into what he thought was an ugly soul he was still attracting the ladies who upon realising he was on his own were gathering. Though the cap had been dispensed with on the bar, his bruises couldn't be made out due to the darkness of the club.

His body wasn't up to dancing but that didn't seem to bother his female companions. One in particular appealed to him, maybe because she looked a bit like Jeanie. Yes, she was just fine. Would she like to come back to his place he asked. She didn't need much persuading. He was starting to feel weak and light headed as he summoned a cab for them in the early hours of the morning.

When they reached his cottage it was near 3.00 a.m. He showed her in, but kept the lights dimmed. After more whiskey for him and a liqueur for her, he felt the time was right to kiss her. God, it felt so good. A beautiful warm woman to hold and love. He temporarily forgot all his anger and fears and just wanted to relish the embrace. She felt so warm and soft to his touch. Their lips met in anticipation and they kissed passionately. She ran her fingers over his crotch and started to unbutton his pants, all the while their lips never parted. Though his body physically ached he was relieved to know his manhood hadn't been damaged. The stress seemed to leave his body. Nothing else mattered.

He led her to the bed, and they lay together on the bed enjoying the touch of each other. It was what he so craved and needed.

"Ken, I just need to go to the bathroom and freshen up a little. I'll be right back."

"Sure, honey. I'll be waitin' for ya," he smiled. 'Honey' was good he thought, seeing as he was too far-gone to remember her name. Stay away my demons tonight he thought.

When she returned from the bathroom, she put the bedside lamp on. It was then she saw his battered face especially stark against the white sheet pulled up to his neck hiding the other damage.

"Ken, what happened to your face?" she was stunned that she hadn't seen the bruising earlier but understandable in the dark of the club and the fact he had worn a cap.

"Oh, just got in a bit of a fight. Nothing too bad. You should see the other guy," he said trying to lighten the situation. "I really look normal most of the time, don't worry!"

The situation seemed a bit tense and she wondered at this point if she should leave. What the hell was she doing anyway at some guy's house she'd only just met? What sort of a guy was this who got into punch-ups? Maybe he was one of those rapists you hear about?

Hutch seemed to sense her anxiousness and reached out to pull her into bed. That did it, you stupid fool. She saw the marks on his inner arm and that was enough for her.

"Christ, I didn't know you were some kind of junkie Ken. Are you a dealer too?" she asked incredulously. She didn't even draw breath or give him time to answer. She just got up and grabbed her clothes. As she was hurriedly dressing Hutch yelled after her, "No, I'm not a damned junkie. I swear to you. Don't go, please. I need you," his voice pleaded and trailed off.

"Hey, I don't do drugs Ken, just not my thing. You strike me as too rough a diamond for my taste. I'm out of here." This was all said as she pulled her sweater on and grabbed her purse. She was getting frightened now. What had she walked into? This was some low life scum that's for sure. Come to think of it, the cottage was in a huge mess with empty whiskey bottles around, papers on the floor. Hardly the home of someone respectable.

"No, no, wait - for fucks sake will you" as he scrambled to get up but she was out of there. The door of the cottage slammed in his face. Great, you can't even get a fuck anymore, you lousy son of a bitch.

"Shit" he said to no one.

Now what?

He'd been unceremoniously dumped before even doing the deed and it was now past four in the morning. It was dark and he felt as useful on the planet as a piece of dog shit!

He sloped back to bed and lay there; eyes open staring to nothing as the tears fell.

I want love, but it's impossible
A man like, me so irresponsible
A man like me is dead in places
Other men feel liberated

I can't love, shot full of holes
Don't feel nothing, I just feel cold
Don't feel nothing, just old scars
Toughening up around my heart

But I want love, just a different kind
I want love, won't break me down
Won't brick me up, won't fence me in
I want a love, that don't mean a thing
That's the love I want, I want love

I want love on my own terms
After everything I've ever learned
Me, I carry too much baggage
Oh man, I've seen so much traffic

So bring it on, I've been bruised
Don't give me love that's clean and smooth
I'm ready for the rougher stuff
No sweet romance, I've had enough*

Eventually he fell asleep somewhere around the time dawn was breaking. He was woken by the phone ringing. He felt like pulling the damn thing out the wall but thought better of it in case it was Starsky trying to call him. His alarm clock told him it was 10.00 a.m. "Hello" God, his mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage.

"Hi, how ya doin'?"

"Good, Starsk" lying bastard Hutch sat up in bed and gathered his thoughts. He had to make sure he sounded coherent even though he sure didn't feel it.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah just had a late night watching some stupid movie on the box. Stayed up past my usual early bedtime. Hey. How's it goin' with your Mom? How was the party?"

"Great Hutch. She didn't have a clue about it. It all went without a hitch. I'm so glad I was here buddy. Really glad you were so understanding and all."

"Hey, look I'm fine. Great you're having a ball. Make the most of it. Look Starsk I better go. Call of nature and all, and I don't want you running up a big phone bill for your Mom. I'll see you tomorrow night at the airport okay?"

"Yeah. That'll be great Hutch. Appreciate it. I'll see ya then buddy."

"Okay Starsk, Bye then."

"Bye."

Hutch hung up the receiver. He lay back in bed staring at the pattern the sun's rays were making on the ceiling as they tried to break through the small opening between the drapes.

Two more days.

What was he going to do? He really had to straighten his act up. His head was pounding and he daren't lift it from the pillow for fear it would come off. Then he remembered the night before. So, did everyone see you as an addict because of needle marks tracking up your arm? Well, I guess they did. Sure don't look pretty. He turned his inner arms forward and surveyed them for himself. It revolted him more than some of the worst murders he had seen, because it was him, it had happened to him.

He couldn't face getting up, he was too hung over and what was there to get up for anyway? Even when he looked around everything seemed black to him. Black and evil. He eventually fell back to a light sleep, tossing and turning as the nightmare took him in varying directions.

He woke in a sweat not long after 2.00 p.m. His head felt a bit better, so he thought he'd better make the effort to get showered and dressed. Before going to the bathroom he entered the kitchen. He rummaged amongst the mess on the bench, looking, looking for something that would get him through the day. Where was the damn stuff? He swept a pile of papers to the floor in his haste. Eventually he spied it; his bottle of whiskey but quickly saw it was near empty. Must have finished it last night with his disaster date he thought. Not to worry, he had more in the cupboard somewhere. He knew it. Ah yes, there it was. In fact several bottles, a choice. He opened the bourbon. This would be his new friend for today.

After several glasses of his 'tonic' he kidded himself, he headed to the bathroom. Catching sight of himself in the mirror he hadn't realised how rough he looked. Unshaven and unkempt. What a mess. Why should he shave though, no one was going to see him, right? He slowly examined his bruising. Back, front and face. Yes, it was getting better and fading. That was something. He didn't like the new scrawny appearance though. He would definitely have preferred his ribs to be less obvious, but what do you expect when you haven't eaten proper meals for so long? He then turned his left arm inward and examined what had so shocked his date the night before. It wasn't that bad was it? Little tell tale scabs forming a 'ladder' as Monk had said up his forearm.

Recalling that creep sent a shiver up his spine. He was the one that had got them to hold him down for the first shot. Tied the tourniquet on so Hutch knew exactly what was coming, except he didn't know what was in the shot. For all he knew they were going to kill him. They said it was just to make him talk but he still didn't know what was in the fucking needle did he?

His mind clicked to the present. How long was it going to take for these holes in his body to go away? How long before he could go out on these summer days without having to wear long sleeves? Were they going to always be there in some form or would he just see them in his imagination?

He went into the kitchen and grabbed a small sharp knife from the drawer. It wouldn't hurt. He had been shot before, stabbed, punched, kicked. You name it. Wounded in many ways and he always came through didn't he? His body could take anything - right? He could hear his Father's voice 'You're not a wimp are you Ken?'

He made a scratch with the blade up his left forearm. He grimaced as he did it and bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. The damage from the blade would hide the needle tracks. Yeah, that's what he would do. He turned the blade on its edge and pulled it hard up the length of his forearm. He kept going with his eyes closed and his teeth still biting on his lower lip. The first cut hurt but after that it was all right. He didn't feel the pain anymore. He would strike the needle marks all out. How he kept going was anyone's guess, methodical in his quest. But then he did start to feel nauseous when he saw his arm looking raw with blood, like a piece of meat he thought. He paused. It was the slow and mechanical way that he did it. Drag it up, cover those scabs. He could say he'd fallen from a bike on to the asphalt. He had it all worked out.

Pretty clever don't you think? Only he couldn't keep going. The hangover, the lack of food it was all catching up. He felt the foul bile rise in his gut and made a dash back to the bathroom where he knelt by the toilet and heaved the little that was in his stomach up. Where are you now Starsk to rub my back, to hold me? I NEED you, you bastard. You fucking left me and I need you now, right now.

He managed to struggle up and get the shower running. He got in and let the warm water course over his hurting body. The blood ran down and seemed to last forever he thought as he watched it swirl and then disappear down the drain. Morbid fascination. Then the tears came and ran as one with the water down his face. Finally the blood eased up but he stayed, feeling the huge comfort of the water on his battered limbs. He stayed until the water ran cold and he was forced to get out.

The rest of Saturday and Sunday seemed a blur. Sleeping when he could, drinking until he couldn't remember anymore. Day, night it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Night...

Shit.

He looked out through his curtains. It was night. Sunday night. Starsky was due home. He grabbed his watch. It was already 7.50 p.m. Too late to make it to the airport now, which was at least an hour's drive away.

Christ, you've really fucked it now Hutchinson. Too fucking, stinking drunk anyway. That's a laugh a drunk cop driving down the freeway! He laughed out loud at his silent humour.

He'd tidy up, the place looked like a trash heap. He didn't want a lecture from Starsky. Yeah, he'd get up in just a minute and do it all. Starsky wouldn't notice when he came in, how bad it had been.

His arm stung and he cradled it to his body.

Exhaustion took over his weakened body and he fell once again under its spell. His eyes closed and he was out to it.

Starsky was as happy as a kid at Christmas. He'd had a fantastic weekend and he always loved to go back to his old neighbourhood and catch up with everyone. It was good to be home though and he knew he had some serious work ahead with the two weeks left to get Hutch back to good working order. It would be hard, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Hutch was his brother. Sure meant more to him than his blood brother Nick.

As he collected his luggage from the carousel he was looking around for Hutch. The airport was relatively quiet at this time of night. He couldn't see him anywhere, so took his bag and walked slowly to an empty bench near the exit he had agreed to meet Hutch at. Probably an accident on the freeway he thought. He'd wait a bit. Didn't seem any point in calling Hutch, as he knew he'd be coming, probably cursing the traffic on his way.

After a half-hour and looking at his watch it seemed every five minutes, he thought he'd try calling Hutch. He went to the pay phone and dialed the number he knew off by heart.

"Come on, come on" but Hutch didn't answer. Starsky hung up the receiver and then decided to wait another half-hour as Hutch was obviously on his way.

Another half-hour went by and still no sign of Hutch.

This is getting ridiculous. He thought. That's it. I'm getting a cab.

The cab ride seemed to take forever and he still didn't know if he'd done the right thing. What if Hutch had just arrived at the airport? What a mess! As he knew he was going to be staying with Hutch for at least a few weeks, he got the cab to take him straight to the cottage. He paid the driver and headed toward the cottage door where everything seemed to be in darkness. Not a light on anywhere. Thank goodness he knew where the spare key was kept. He assumed as Hutch hadn't met him and the cottage was in darkness that he must be out so did not see the need to knock. He slipped the key in the lock and opened the door to the dark interior.

Better call out just in case. "Hutch, Hutch. It's me Starsky."

All quiet on the Western Front he thought. He switched the light on and the first thing that struck him was the mess around the normally neat floor. There were clothes, wet towels, and papers strewn across most of the floor. There was not a clear surface it seemed anywhere. He could smell the alcohol in the air. In fact more of a stench in the obviously non-aired room. Now he was panicking. What the hell has happened here? Has there been a break in? He picked his way across the floor toward the bed. "Hutch, Hutch."

He flicked the bedside light on and then he saw his partner. Face down in the middle of the bed. His arms either side of his head. Like a puppy sleeps, Starsky thought. There were two empty liquor bottles beside him on the bedside cabinet.

Why the hell didn't he answer me? What the fuck is going on here? He sat on it beside the prone figure. "Hutch." He touched his partner's shoulder gently.

At last the blond stirred. "Starsky?"

"The one and only."

As Hutch lay there, he quickly took stock of his thoughts. Oh shit. He can't see me like this. Drunk like some wino and feeling like a bear with a sore head. He remained in the same position but opened his eyes. "Starsky, God I'm really sorry. I must've slept too long and missed meeting you. I am so sorry."

"Hey, I'll forgive ya, but what's with the mess everywhere and the party for one?"

"Well as you often say Starsk, seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Yeah, but seems like you may have overdone it a bit here partner." Starsky was really worried now.

Hutch turned over; the sheet pulled quickly up to his neck. He felt too vulnerable and didn't want Starsky to see his arm yet. Yeah, how was he going to explain that one? He still found it hard to believe he had done that to himself. He looked at Starsky. His anger was at himself and his own weakness but as Starsky was closest, he was to receive the wrath. The explosion seemed to come from nowhere.

"Are you my fucking mother Starsk? Where do you get off on telling me what I should and shouldn't do?"

Starsky stood up, shocked at the outburst. "No, but I care about ya buddy and you know alcohol isn't the answer. Sure, it makes you feel good temporarily but what happens when the buzz wears off. I'm just worried about how much you've had." Damn, I shouldn't have left him. I should have seen he wasn't ready to deal with the fall out on his own. Too soon.

"Will you get outa here for a minute Starsky so I can get myself half-decent. I don't feel like a lecture when I'm not even dressed okay? You're always in my face."

"Sure, sure. Sorry." Never bothered him before. Starsky went into the conservatory and sat on one of the cane chairs once he'd unearthed it from the heap of papers and articles of clothing.

Hutch got up and grabbed his robe from the floor beside the bed. He slipped it on over his boxers, then walked over toward the couch. Once Starsky saw him there, he came through to join him. Starsky sat and Hutch paced, slightly nervous. Hutch had taken stock of his outburst and calmed a little. Man, his head hurt something shocking though. "Starsk, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I didn't mean it. Just don't lecture me 'kay?"

"Yeah Hutch, but you know it's so damn stupid. Look at this place it's a pigsty. I thought you'd be resting, taking it easy. How much have you drunk? Your body needs time to recover."

The blond exploded again "Don't you think I fucking know that Starsk? It was me remember that got thumped over the head, bashed to a pulp and pumped full of 'H', over a stupid damn girlfriend." He started to tremble now. He ran his hand through his hair.

Starsky pulled at Hutch's left hand to get him to sit beside him. "Come 'ere."

It was then that something caught Starsky's eye. Hutch's left arm. The beginning of the forearm peeking from his robe sleeve. It appeared to be scraped and the skin was weeping. He pushed the sleeve of the robe up in shock. "What the heck happened to your arm? Did you burn it?"

Hutch suddenly felt shame and humiliation. He instantly pulled his arm from Starsky's hold. "It's nothin' Starsk. Just leave it okay?"

"Hutch let me see. Sure doesn't look like nothin'." He wouldn't let go of the grip he had and pulled Hutch closer. Hutch surrendered and let Starsky examine it further. "Shit, what happened Hutch? This isn't from your needle marks. This is another thing altogether. It needs attention buddy. It's raw and weeping. Could get infected. How did this happen?" Still gripping Hutch's arm he looked up to meet Hutch's downcast eyes.

Hutch felt humiliated enough. He couldn't believe himself, that he could do such a thing to his own flesh. He tried to forget the vividness of the blood, his calculated actions of the day before. He pulled his arm sharply from Starsky's grip and headed to the kitchen. He started to pour himself a bourbon. He knew he was on thin ice with his partner.

Starsky just about leapt from the couch and over to the kitchen to grab the bottle from Hutch before he could complete pouring the drink.

"No more Hutch. That's enough man. I won't standby and see you hurt yourself anymore."

"Shut the fuck up Starsk. You sound like the Virgin Mother."

"No Hutch, no way and you know this aint gonna cut it."

They both still had their hands on the bottle. Hutch pulled hard on the bottle to release it from Starsky's grasp. He finished pouring his drink and then threw the bottle full force against the far wall. It shattered and bits of glass and dribbles of bourbon cascaded down the wall to land in a delicate glittering pile.

Starsky put his hands over his ears as the bottle met the wall and then stared at Hutch aghast. This was getting serious. "Feel better now, huh? Now you've put a dent in your kitchen wall."

"Yeah, I DO feel better Starsk," Hutch practically spat out. "Starsk I want you to go, okay?"

"You gotta be kiddin' me. There is no way I'm leaving you in this state," he replied as he moved to touch Hutch's cheek but Hutch snapped his head away.

"You left me before Starsk" Hutch looked up into Starsky's eyes.

"Oh, I get it. That's what this temper tantrum is all about. I shouldn't have gone to Ma's party?" Then he spoke more quietly as he cast his eyes downward. "YOU said it was okay, I thought you'd be all right. You were doing it Hutch. I thought you were okay, you seemed... You..."

His words trailed off as he swallowed back his tears.

"I didn't know it was going to be this rough on you Hutch. I swear. I thought we'd ridden out the worst and were on the road home. I'm sorry. I really didn't think a few days away would hurt you this much. Oh God, I'm so sorry." He attempted to put his hand on Hutch's shoulder this time needing the contact.

Now Hutch felt like shit. He regretted saying what he had said as soon as the words left his lips. He had blown it. He cared so deeply for and loved this man with all his heart and now he was really twisting the knife and getting him to hurt so bad. But it had gone too far now.

"Just leave Starsk. I don't want you in my house anymore," he screamed. Yes I do want you here, I do. I just can't function Starsk. I'm losing it real bad. Please stay.

But he didn't have the guts to say it out loud. He had been brought up to never show a sign of weakness. Don't be a sissy baby and never cry. His Father's words rang in his ears.

"No, I'm not leaving Hutch. I don't believe you." He needs me. He's suffering so; I can see it in his eyes.

Without warning Hutch grabbed Starsky by his shirt collar and pulled him within inches of his own face. The veins on his neck stood out and his face was getting redder by the minute it seemed.

"Starsky, I said leave so leave. Get out." He spoke through gritted teeth. He then relaxed his hold on the brunette and turned his back on him.

Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm and spun him around at which point Hutch whose temper was running on overdrive punched the cause of his irritation in the gut.

Starsky was winded and fell to his knees.

He finally admitted defeat. "All right if you really want me to go that bad," he gasped. "I'm outta here." He grabbed his bag and slammed the door on his way out to his Torino. He was stunned. He got behind the wheel and started her up. He fumbled with the gear stick not realising how much he was shaking.

Hutch watched him from the window, also shaking. He turned away and with his back against the wall; he slowly slid down to the floor. His head in his hands. Don't go Starsk. Please, I didn't mean it.

Starsky shoved the accelerator to the floor and squealed away from the cottage. His gut sure hurt where Hutch had punched him but his pride hurt the most. He turned into his driveway and headed up the steps, weary and confused. It was now nearly midnight and he just stripped off and got into his bed where he hadn't slept in over a week. It sure felt great after Hutch's couch he thought. Well if he wants to be alone and drown his sorrows then let him.

After all I've done for him. Let him suffer.

Wait a cotton pickin' minute here. Who the hell are you kidding brother? That's a laugh - you call yourself his brother. He's been through hell and back and you fucking know it. Now, when he needs you most you abandon him. Swallow your damn pride and get your stubborn ass over there. Pronto!

He lay still and quiet in the warm night air. The scenes played over and over in his mind like a television he couldn't turn off. He rubbed his sore gut where he had been punched. This was the act of a mad man wasn't it? Christ, what could he do? What should he do? Is it like when a girl says no, she's supposed to mean yes? The new cuts on Hutch's arm worried him. What had happened there, he hadn't been given an answer.

He couldn't bear it any more. He got up and dressed and headed back to the cottage. It was now after 1.00 a.m he noticed on the car clock as he pulled up outside.

The cottage wasn't in total darkness but it was eerily quiet at this time of night. He got out and knocked on the door.

"Hutch, it's me. Let me in would ya?"

No sound or movement. He knocked again.

"I'm not leaving Hutch, so you'd better let me in before I wake the neighbours."

"Go away Starsk. I don't want you here."

"Hutch, if you don't open this damn door in the next thirty seconds, I'll kick it in okay?"

Eventually the door handle turned and Hutch stood on the other side of the door. He appeared more subdued certainly than when Starsky had been kicked out.

"Hutch, come on. Let me in and we'll talk."

The door opened further and Hutch went to sit on the couch while Starsky closed the door quietly behind him. Starsky walked over to the couch and put his hand on Hutch's shoulder and bowed his head as he spoke. "Can we at least talk about this Blondie? I think we've suffered enough buddy for one evening, don't you?"

"I'm so tired Starsky. I don't know what to do anymore. God I'm sorry I treated you like shit when all you were trying to do was help."

"Hey, I'm here for ya," he said as he sank down on the couch next to him.

Hutch had his head buried in his hands, and then he started to sob. The tears wouldn't stop falling and he felt in so much pain. Physical pain and mental pain. His shoulders shook and the sobbing continued. He leaned into Starsky still with his face hidden. He felt so ashamed.

"It's okay big guy. You'll make it. Come on..." Starsky hugged him and he too felt the tears pooling in his own eyes, but he knew he had to be stronger. "Tell me what happened Hutch, let it out babe. You can't keep it in your head buddy. Release it. You know you can trust me right?" He pushed Hutch's head off his shoulder and held his face between his hands. "Hutch, I can only imagine what you went through this past week or so, but maybe it would be better if we talked about it? How about it?"

"I don't think I can Starsk. It's too soon."

"Okay, well how about telling me what went on this weekend? You seemed pretty together when I left, but what happened?"

Hutch wiped his sleeve across his face and relaxed back against the sofa. "It started okay I guess but I felt so lost without you when I got back. I guess I panicked. I thought the alcohol would help me relax and forget. Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying," he laughed. "I knew it was just a quick fix and wouldn't last but Starsk it made me forget and that's what I needed. I can't seem to sleep without some horrible nightmare. I just can't handle it."

"Sh, Sh it's okay. I'm here now and we'll work it out," he affectionately put his hand to Hutch's neck and pulled him towards his chest. "There's no rush here. Just take your time. Hell, I didn't know you were having damn nightmares. I guess it's logical though. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno. It's a declaration of weakness, isn't it Starsk. Grown men don't cry and all that?"

"Baloney and you know it. You can't function with all the hurt and anger inside you. You need to let it out. Talk about it."

Suddenly it began to come forth and Starsky breathed a quiet sign of relief as Hutch started to speak all be it quietly and slowly. "I was frightened Starsk. How do ya like that? A grown man frightened of being alone. I needed someone to hold me. Friday night I went out to a nightclub where no one knew me. Nobody was going to judge me and no one would see Forest's marks." He was trying hard to contain the tears that were waiting to be released. They made his blue eyes glisten as they started there descent.

"Go on."

"I brought a girl back here. How desperate was I?"

"You weren't desperate, come on" and he pulled him closer, his arm around the other's neck.

"I just wanted someone to treat my like I was, before it happened. To know I was still the guy I had been, ya know? Why did Jeannie leave me, after... after all I went through?"

"Doesn't seem fair does it? What happened with this girl anyway?"

"Yeah, well we were about to make out and then she saw my needle marks and freaked. Thought I was some sort of dope pusher or addict, and she was outta here before I could explain anything."

Starsky now understood a little of how bad Hutch had been feeling and how alone he must have felt when Starsky had said goodbye at the airport. "Aw buddy. Those marks won't be there forever. They'll go and no one will ever see them again. Believe me."

Hutch suddenly pulled away from Starsky. "Yeah, but then I stooped lower still Starsk. Lower than bringing a girl back here I didn't even know for sex. It was me that did this," he spoke louder and pulled his left sleeve up to expose the raw skin that he had cut. The sight of it even now revolted him.

"You... you did that?" Starsky struggled to get the words out.

"Yeah I did Starsk, with a kitchen knife. Thought I could hide the needle tracks for good. Well, I guess it did that," he laughed quietly with his head down.

Starsky put his hand under the other's chin and tilted his face up so they were looking in each other's eyes.

"Promise me Hutch, you won't ever do anything like that again buddy. I'm back now and I won't leave you again. I'm here for you day and night. 365 days of the year."

Hutch buried his face now in Starsky's chest sobbing and let the tears fall as Starsky enveloped him within his arms. His lifeline was back. He would get through it. They would get through it together. Me and thee always.

The End

* Song by Elton John. Lyrics by Bernie Taupin