Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.
Warning: "In a Blink of an Eye" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. Please consider yourself warned, I would hate to spoil someone's fun.
Previously on "In a Blink of an Eye":
"Green like my Joey's . . . and let me guess, you have nightmares about him, don'chya? Is that what's keepin' ya from sleepin' at night?"
Starsky shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. I don't know anymore . . ." the weary cop sighed, dragging his hand through his curls in frustration.
"Yes you do, you do know." Ellen said simply, "And when you're ready to face and talk about whatever it is that's keeping you up at night, only then can you stop runnin'."
Chapter Seven~
"So did you?"
"What?"
"Stop running?"
"What d'ya think? I'm here, ain't I?"
"Yes, you are. So, I take it that you told Hutch about your nightmares then."
(Silence)
"Did you tell him, Dave?"
"And what if I didn't? Are ya gonna declare me unfit to be a cop? Are ya gonna write in your report that I'm a risk to the safety of my fellow officers? You gonna tell Dobey that I'm unsafe to be on the streets with Hutch, that I can't do my job and watch his back?"
"Are you a risk?"
"You know what? Fuck this! This is goddamn bullshit!"
"I need you to sit down, Dave."
"And I need you to just get to the point!"
(Pacing)
"You know, David, everyone has nightmares. I would imagine that police officers have their fair share of bad dreams with some of the horrific things they see on a daily basis."
"Ya don't even know the half of it! There's a lot of crap that happens on the streets."
"Yes, I'm sure there is, Dave; and I'm quite sure that there are times that you must get sick of your job."
"Yeah? And how do you know that?"
"You think you're the only cop who gets to sit in my most comfortable chair?"
(A quiet snort)
"So go on, tell me, Dave. How did you tell Hutch about your nightmares?"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Hutch stepped into the sudden warmth of the dingy bar and grill, squinting slightly, adjusting to the light from the darkness outside. Pale blue eyes darted around the small establishment to finally settle upon the back of the room where the pool table was, where he saw the familiar sight of his partner leaning over the tabletop to casually roll the colored balls across its green, felted surface.
The tall blond could feel the tight muscles in his shoulders relax and he quietly let out the breath he was unaware of holding. Walking quickly to the bar, Hutch quietly ordered two mugs of beer and made his way over to the back of the room with his peace offering, a hesitant smile spreading across his face as his partner looked up at his approach.
"Hey," Starsky greeted softly as he straightened to stand, nodding his chin at his partner. "'Bout time you showed up. Been waitin'. What took ya so long?" Though Starsky's dark blue eyes twinkled with affection, Hutch could still sense the wariness the brunet felt deep inside, although Starsky covered it well with an air of feigned nonchalance.
Hutch snorted softly, feeling suddenly relieved at his partner's attempt at playful banter, innately knowing that somehow everything was gonna be okay now. "Oh, I don't know. Didn't think you'd be stubborn enough to stay out in the rain so long with no jacket and all. After a while I figured out you were probably holed up somewhere, freezing your ass off, and I was forced to use my awesome detective skills to track you down."
Starsky gave his smiling partner his infamous lopsided grin. "And it took you this long to "track" me down to the only place open in this godforsaken town? Your 'awesome' detective skills need a lot of work, Hutchinson!" Both cops chuckled as Starsky rolled another shiny ball across the table, smiling as Hutch reached out to stop the ball's journey by grasping it in his large hand. For a moment, both eyes connected before Starsky finally looked away, turning his gaze to the glass of amber colored liquid. "So, how was the fish? Any good?"
"Didn't eat it."
Starsky shifted his gaze from the mug he held to look at his partner. "How come? You missed me too much?" The brunet smiled prettily and batted his long lashes coquettishly at the tall blond.
Hutch snorted, a slight blush coloring the long expanse of his neck, rising slowly to the tips of his ears. For a man, his partner had eyelashes any girl would kill for. The handsome blond cleared his throat, "Well, that too, but mostly because the fish was burnt beyond being edible."
"Oh." Starsky said quietly, feeling bad inside. "I'm sorry, Blintz. Didn't mean t'ruin dinner, especially after it took you so long t'catch the damn things."
"Nah, you didn't ruin anything. It was my fault. I'd forgotten about the trout until I smelled it burning in the pan." The blond cop laughed, looking around the bar and grill, "Guess we'll have to eat here again tonight."
"My treat," Starsky graciously offered, "Only um . . . I think I only have a five on me, so I'll pay ya back." The brunet smiled sheepishly as Hutch chuckled.
"No need, it's my treat, pal." The blue of Hutch's eyes softened with the fondness he felt towards his partner. "And anyway, you wouldn't have been out here at all if I hadn't opened my big mouth and . . ."
"Hey," Starsky quietly interjected, "Don't." The brunet lowered his eyes to the rack of colorful balls he'd just set up. "About what happened today . . . and even about this whole . . . well, just know it's never been your fault, Hutch," Starsky said softly, absently reaching out to finger the soft green felt covering the pool table.
The brunet sighed softly before he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, "This whole mess has been about me and I . . . it's just that . . . well, things have been hard since the Fitzgerald case and . . ." The dark haired cop cleared his throat uncomfortably, lashes slowly lifting to reveal dark blue eyes filled with remorse. "I know, you know, that I've been having nightmares and I know you've been wantin' to talk about 'em, Hutch, its' just that talkin' about stuff . . . well, ain't easy for me."
"I know, buddy," Hutch said softly. "You hate soapy scenes."
Starsky snorted quietly and then took a deep breath, "Yeah, but it don't make it right. I know ya been worried, and it ain't fair the way I been actin'. I guess I just wanted ya t'know that we will talk . . . tonight . . . when we get back to the cabin. But for now, can we just have a nice dinner and talk about stuff like fishin'?"
Hutch smiled warmly, stopping himself from chuckling out loud, knowing how much Starsky hated fishing. "Sure, buddy. Whatever you want," Hutch willingly agreed, just glad to have his partner's camaraderie back. "But I'm gonna hold you to your promise, Starsk . . . that we're gonna talk tonight. Do we have to pinkie swear on that?" The blond wagged his pale eyebrows as he crooked his baby finger and held it up.
The handsome brunet shook his head and chuckled softly. "Nope, no need to do that. You have my word on it, partner!"
"Great!" Hutch said, a huge smile lighting up his face. The blond rubbed his hands together with excitement as he walked around the pool table and threw his arm around his dark haired companion's shoulder. "Let's go eat then, Gordo! I am starving!"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Hutch grinned as he leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and spied a shivering Starsky bending over in his red long johns, rummaging through his duffle on the bed to finally pull out a blue flannel plaid shirt, which he immediately buttoned over his chest. The rain was coming down hard now, beating a loud rhythm on the tin roof of the cabin and the chill in the room was substantial. The blond chuckled softly, wondering how Starsky ever survived the harsh winters in New York when he was just a kid.
Turning at the sound, the brunet grinned. "Ya spyin' on me in my vulnerable state of undress, Hutchinson? Gonna give me the willies with you sneakin' up on me like that, pal." The scrunched up nose and opened mouth of the dark haired cop was the only warning Hutch got before Starsky let out a loud sneeze.
Hutch frowned as he stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to his friend's duffle bag. "You okay, Starsk? Maybe you're coming down with something after being soaked in the downpour today?"
The brunet snuffled and dragged a finger under his nose. "Nah, I told ya, I barely got wet since Ellen gave me a ride to the bar."
Hutch nodded, silently wondering when his tight-lipped partner was gonna reveal more than just his run-in with Ellen. All night long since coming back to their mountain retreat, Hutch had waited patiently for Starsky to talk to him, not wanting to push the issue himself; and now that they were getting ready for bed, the tall blond wondered if perhaps Starsky was gonna renege on his promise to talk, after all. Hutch watched as the brunet shifted his eyes away, uncomfortable with the sudden silence that permeated the small room.
The curly haired cop silently lifted his bag and carried it back to the old battered dresser, zipping the duffle closed before making his way to his side of the bed. Hutch continued to watch as his partner lifted the covers and slid underneath the quilt, reaching over to blow out the lantern before settling down once more; the room now dark and shadowed.
Sighing with disappointment, Hutch followed suit, sliding his long frame under the blanket to lie beside the warm body of his partner, consciously aware of Starsky squirming around beside him. The blond slid his arms under his head and tracked the cracks in the ceiling as he listened to the raindrops drumming overhead, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to broach the subject he knew his partner was avoiding. Turing his head, Hutch quietly asked, "You comfy now? Or do you have termites in your underwear?"
"Huh?"
Hutch smiled, feeling his partner's head pressing into the pillow as the brunet turned to stare at his blond counterpart in the dark. "You're squirming! Thought maybe you had an itch or something." Hutch stated softly. "You okay?
"Yeah," Starsky sighed, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. "I mean . . . I haven't forgotten that promise I made at dinner. It's just that . . . it's just . . . I don't know where to start."
"I see," Hutch whispered gently. "Well, why don't you tell me what's been keeping you awake at night?" The blond held his breath, hoping he hadn't pushed too much to warrant his partner's withdrawal once more. If Starsky pulled away now, Hutch didn't know if he could bear it.
Starsky closed his eyes; long dark lashes hiding the sudden anxiety that rose in his gut at his partner's soft words. 'What could he say to Hutch? That he was frightened? That he was afraid of going back to work, going back to the streets, when it had been his life's calling for so long?' Even listening to himself running through his mental jargon made Starsky feel so weak inside, so girl-like! Hutch was his partner, a cop who risked his life on a daily basis to stand up for justice, to right the wrongs that plagued the world.
A White Knight in shining armor.
Starsky knew the blond depended on him to keep him alive, to watch his back. 'How would Hutch feel knowing his partner was a pansy assed wimp, afraid of his own shadow?' The silent brunet let out a heavy sigh feeling the weight of the moment resting upon his shoulders; knowing that Hutch was being more than patient with him over the long haul of the Fitzgerald's case and the repercussions that had followed.
"Hey, buddy. You know, it's okay. Really. Why don't you just try to get some shut-eye and we can . . . we can talk tomorrow if you want." Hutch's honey-laced tone, his quiet voice of reassurance, did nothing to soothe the erratic beating of the brunet's heart.
His partner was giving him an out, allowing Starsky to back out of his promise with dignity! Starsky swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he felt Hutch gently lay his leg over his own under the quilts; the blond's heavy limb was meant to be comforting and reassuring in the quiet darkness of the bedroom, yet all it did was make Starsky feel even worse, making the acidic remnants of guilt burn even more in his already roiling gut.
'God, he loved Hutch so much! Hutch was everything good in an often times bad world. He was the light to Starsky's darkness, the rope that held him together when everything was falling apart. If he ever lost Hutch to the streets . . .'
For a minute or two, both cops listened to the song of the rain as it continued to play its rhythmic beat upon the rooftop; until with a sigh of resignation, Hutch eventually turned to his side, his back facing his partner's. "G'night, buddy," the blond whispered.
Sapphire colored eyes roamed around in the darkened room, unable to find a focal point as he listened to the quiet breathing of his partner beside him. He knew Hutch was still awake. He knew it was now or never . . .
"Hutch?"
"Yeah?"
"Ya sleepin'?"
"Yup!"
"Good. Thought so. G'night!"
A quiet snort made the brunet smile in the darkness and his partner's next words made Starsky begin to chuckle quietly under the covers.
"You know, Starsk, you never fail to amaze me, buddy! There are times that you are so perceptive . . ."
"I'm a good guesser, I guess." Starsky whispered back with a grin.
"I see," Hutch replied softly. "So um . . . can you guess what I'm thinking now?"
Starsky closed his eyes, his smile fading as he said, "Either you're silently flippin' me off, or you're wonderin' if I'm gonna keep my promise or not."
Hutch smiled softly in the dark of the room, rolling back slightly to peer over his shoulder at his curly haired partner. "So, are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Gonna keep your promise to me?"
Starsky snorted softly, "Don't I always keep my word?"
"Most of the time."
"Most of the time?"
"When it comes to your promise of slowing down on your consumption of junk food, I've yet to see your 'word' reach fruition."
"Huh!"
Hutch grinned, enjoying their silly bantering, knowing Starsky was gearing up to reveal whatever it was that was tearing him up inside. The tall blond turned to his side once more, back to his partner, as he waited for the brunet's next move. It didn't take long before Starsky once again started up the conversation.
"Hey, Hutch? Ya sleepin'?"
"Yup. Still sleeping."
"Ok. Good. 'Cause I think I'm ready to talk now."
"Okay. Good. 'Cause I'm still listening." Hutch whispered back, fighting to remain where he was, with his back turned to Starsky, although he desperately wanted to make eye contact with his partner. Hutch knew how difficult this was for the brunet, thinking that if he didn't look at his friend, Starsky would have an easier time with whatever it was he had to say.
Hutch could hear his partner sighing heavily in the dark and his heart went out to his curly haired counterpart. The handsome blond closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, stopping himself from telling his longtime friend that he needn't say anything if he wasn't ready to. Starsky didn't need an out. What Starsky needed was to purge himself of whatever it was that was eating him up inside, and the only way the brunet was gonna get rid of that was to talk about it.
"Well, ya know how I've been havin' these nightmares and all . . ."
"Yes, nightmares about Sean . . ."
"Yeah," Starsky sighed sadly. "Whenever I blinked or closed my eyes, I could see the kid's eyes; green eyes staring straight at me. And then, once I fell asleep, the boy made a nightly appearance in my dreams and I just . . ."
Starsky's voice was rough with pain, and the abrupt way his partner never finished his sentence made the blond turn over to look the brunet in the eye. "Starsk, it wasn't your fault . . ."
"I know," Starsky said with a sigh. "Random acts of violence, right? At the lake, you helped me to see that, Hutch; how things can change in a blink of an eye . . ."
"But there's something else, isn't there?" Hutch asked gently. "Something else that's pulling at you." Hutch frowned in the dark as Starsky suddenly sat up on the edge of the bed and ran his hand through his dark curls in frustration. "What is it, Starsk? You can tell me . . ."
"Ya know those dreams of the kid? Well, they . . . they started changin' after a while." Starsky began hesitantly.
"Changing?" Hutch reiterated. "Changing how?"
"I don't know . . . jus' . . . jus' changin'."
Hutch frowned, trying to piece together what his partner wasn't saying. "So, these changes . . . is this what's keeping you from making that appointment to see the psychologist?"
At the brunet's silence, Hutch's frown deepened. "Starsky, what is it? What are you dreaming about?"
"Nuthin'," Starsky finished lamely. "You want me to go see that shrink, then I will if it'll make you happy."
"If it'll make me . . ." Hutch repeated, eyes widening with understanding. "Those dreams, those changes. You're not seeing Sean anymore, are you? It's me you're seeing, isn't it? You're seeing me die instead of Sean, aren't you?
Starsky closed his eyes, long lashes hiding the pain he felt as he remembered the vivid dreams of Hutch biting the dust, time after time. The brunet lowered his head and nodded miserably. "Almost every night, Hutch, I see you dyin' right before my eyes and there's nuthin' I can do t'save ya."
Hutch sat up slowly, easing his long legs over the side of the bed to quietly sit beside his hunched over partner. "Starsky, it's just a dream . . ."
"For now," the brunet interjected, "But what happens when it comes true, huh?" The brunet turned to look at his partner and even in the darkness surrounding them, Hutch could see the startling pain and bleak despair in his friend's shimmering eyes. "I can't lose you, Hutch. God, if you ever died on my watch, I jus' . . ."
"Hey, take it easy, buddy," Hutch murmured softly, reaching out to rub the tense muscles in his partner's back. "It's just a dream, Starsky. I'm right here, alive and well, sitting right beside you."
Starsky shook his head and shut his eyes to the soothing voice of his partner. "Ya keep askin' me why I don't wanna make the appointment for the shrink, but don'chya see, Hutch? One day, it could be you dyin' out there on the streets and that's a risk I jus' ain't willin' to take anymore."
"So what are you saying? You gonna just give up? You gonna just let Dreyden and Simonetti win? You love this job, Starsky. It's in your blood, in your soul! You're father was a cop and . . ."
"My pop is dead! Dead, Hutch! Gunned down on the filthy streets he fought so hard to keep safe!" Starsky snapped, rising to his feet as he turned to glare at his fair-haired partner. "Sure we can go back, and I can make the shrink write up a glowing report to give to Dobey. We'll be back at Metro in a blink of an eye, but for what? For what, Hutch? Just for you to take a bullet one day?"
Hutch swallowed back the lump that lodged in his throat as he read the stark pain that was plastered on his partner's face; watching silently as his dark haired counterpart paced to and fro like a wild animal locked in a cage. The handsome blond could understand where the brunet was coming from, after all, hadn't he shared these exact same thoughts so many times before?
"Starsky, I know how you feel. I worry about you too, buddy, all the time. There's not a day that goes by where I wonder if this will be your last day, or mine, but I force those kinds of crippling thoughts from my mind. I can't allow myself to think like that because thoughts like those are paralyzing. Do you remember that day in the alley? That time I froze and nearly got you killed? I was shaking so hard, Starsk, and you helped me to get my head back in the game."
The brunet now stood by the window, silently lifting the worn curtains aside to look out as the rivulets of rainwater blurred his vision. "You were right to be scared, Hutch. You lost Gillian to the streets, and I lost my Terry. I just . . . I won't lose you too, Hutch. I can't!" Starsky sighed wearily, his eyes never leaving the windowpane. Starsky's voice was rough and broken as he finally admitted, "I'm tired, Hutch. Haven't we given enough? Maybe it's time we try to find some happiness for ourselves."
Hutch took in a deep breath and dragged a hand through the fine golden locks that even now shimmered in the darkness of the room. The pain he felt from his partner slammed into him, yet he couldn't allow Starsky to just give up, to just throw the towel in. No one understood better than Hutch the risks they took everyday on the streets. Usually it was the blond who needed the strong back of his partner to carry him when the rage and violence they saw everyday washed over him, dragging him down into the undertow of despair. It was Starsky who reached out and saved him time and again, and Hutch could do no less for his hurting partner. Starsky just needed a gentle push in the right direction. Hutch's voice was soft and compassionate, "So I'm gonna ask you again, Starsky. What are you saying to me? You saying you want to quit the force?"
There was a moment of profound silence in the tiny bedroom, the only sound being heard was the pattering of raindrops that continued to fall. Hutch waited with baited breath for his partner to come to his senses, but Starsky's next words blew him totally out of the water.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's exactly what I'm sayin'," Starsky replied, his voice rough now and devoid of any emotion. "I wanna head back tomorrow. No sense prolongin' the inevitable. And when I get back to Bay City, I'm turnin' in my resignation to Dobey!"
To be continued . . .
