Smoke and Mirrors
Hutch heard her chattering happily as she ran the bath water.
Immobile, he stood looking into the large mirror in front of him.
Sonora peeked back into the bedroom. "Get those dirty clothes off, sweetie. I'm drawing you a bath. You'll feel so much better after a nice hot soak," she said glibly.
The words jarred a dazed Hutch, interrupting his intense study of the man in the mirror.
Attempting obedience, he fumbled to unbutton the shirt but, at the moment feeling like he was moving through quicksand, made the act almost impossible. Confusion had him in its cruel grip.
The reflected man's past, present, and future compacted like one of those junkyard cars. All he could hear was the drone of the machine that threatened to flatten the remains of what was once functional, once shiny and new. Who was he? What was he?
Like a lone drop of rain falling to earth, he meant nothing to himself or to all that surrounded him.
Surveying the room… there wasn't anything there that belonged to him, nothing that validated his existence… his being…his life…his dreams. What was he doing here? He looked in the mirror again… all he saw was a well-dressed corpse---the remains of the person he once was. His eyes were empty. His mind emptied, too. Memories of his life's experiences…the laughter, tears, failures, and accomplishments…scooped up and dumped out like the seeds of a cantaloupe.
Closing his eyes, he felt the ghost of the hand of his partner that had rested on him—bringing comfort-- and the joyless briny deep eyes that had released him back into Sonora's custody.
The voice cramped with emotion… telling him… if you need anything…you know where to find me… if you need anything…
Yeah, he needed something…someone.
Something real--something genuine was tickling inside his chest…the tingling around his heart seeking a resting place. In his heart a remnant remained.
He did need something.
…needed his best friend.
He couldn't understand all the reasons why he was standing in the strange regality of the opulent gold and violet decorated bedroom-- but his heart told him he didn't belong there.
She came up behind and wrapped her arms around him. Staring at the picture they made in the glass before them, Sonora slipped a hand inside his partially unbuttoned shirt guiding it to rest on the raised scars on Hutch's chest.
He felt a shock of cold rush through him and distorted weird pictures flashed behind his eyes forcing them shut.
"Tired," she mused.
Squeezing him tight, she slowly outlined the scars with her manicured fingers sending a chill up his spine.
"No worries," she said as she delivered a light kiss on this back, leaving him standing there as she returned to tending to his bath.
No worries?No worries…
No worries, my love.
Hutch's world upturned. Vertigo hit hard--forcing him to blow out the poison-like air that was filling his lungs.
Pictures and words where coming at him at breakneck speed. He could almost feel the slash of the blade across his chest as he saw a staff flying in the air near him.
Closing his eyes once more, he tried to shake off the vision--only to feel the action of the sweep of the weapon near his face. He touched a hand to the scars underneath the open shirt. A dark shadow's graceful dance-like movement behind him made the unsteady cop take a disoriented step back.
Sonora peered back in to the bedroom. "OK?" she asked him.
He gave her a noncommittal stoic nod.
"You don't look well, honey. I'm just going to Dr. Archie and get you something for that headache. Bath's waiting. Why don't you get in and I'll be back with your medicine."Forcing a weak smile, he nodded again to her as she darted out of the room.
"No worries, my love…"
"We're family now. You and I…I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything…You'll see…"
He spun around to the sound of her voice.
Hutch raised a hand to the scars.
"In Japan it's called a bokken or jo…mine is made from an exotic African hardwood…unbreakable...unforgiving…"
Words were tumbling from the sky, hitting him like oversized hail from above.
"Haven't we met before…maybe New Orleans"…
"You should have kissed me."
"If you cry out --it's David's turn.
"I always win. Remember that. I always get what I want."
"Would you like some sweet roll?"
"Know you? I shall create you."
"In Japan it's called a bokken or jo…"
If you cry out..
"We're family now. You and I…I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything…You'll see…"
"We're family now. You and I…"
"We're family now. You and I…"
"Who do we trust?"
"Me and Thee."
"Me and Thee…"
I'll find you, Hutch. I promise, hear me, I'll find you.
I promise…hear me…I'll find you.
He looked around the room, everything was unfamiliar and that frightened him. Hutch didn't want to stay there—he didn't belong there.
His eyes settled on to the black wool coat lying across the bed. Snatching it up, he let himself out into the gardens.
Then he was running. Running fast. Running for his life, running to his life… he wasn't sure. But he could feel death's grip loosening the farther he got away from the old estate.
-ooooo-
Leaning back in his chair on the balcony that overlooked the garden, M smiled blazingly.The amused bodyguard swished the brownish liquid in the large crystal glass and raised it in the direction of the cop who he had just seen fleeing out of the front gates of the huge courtyard.
"Here's to you, friend," he said chuckling quietly to himself. Sonora's husband had just made his escape for freedom and it was making a warm feeling build up inside the big man. A warmth that wasn't from the half empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. The wetness gathering in the corner of his eyes he decided to ignore completely.
M hadn't been able to shake how terrible he felt since they had found the place where Hutchinson's friends were hiding and the near attempt to massacre the inhabitants. It all could have ended horribly that night. Still, Sonora had worked her magic and the mixed up cop had mistakenly allowed Zak Latrielle's little girl to bring him back to her house of horrors. M was sad to think that Detective Kenneth Hutchinson would live out the rest of his short remaining days on earth with Sonora, his loving wife and killer. That's the way the story could have gone.
The bodyguard didn't realize how much he wanted to run too until he saw the detective… even in his weakened state, feeling death's hand on his shoulder, take off with all the strength he could muster.
The manor stank of it. Death-- in its legacy. Built on greed and murder. Murder not just of the body—but of the soul. The smell was pungent. Death of hope, dreams-- of love that life had tried to offer its inhabitants.
How much longer could he last here, the giant wondered? What a price to pay for a comfortable place to hide from the world's stares.
He had felt a wave of nausea so strong in that cabin that he was almost certain he was about to loose his credibility as a fearless, ruthless henchman.
Good vs. Evil—how much clearer could the line be drawn? Sides needed to be taken and being there with Sonora made it impossible for him choose in favor of his new friend and what was right.
If only he had been asked, he would have chosen the side of Good this time--picked up a kicking and screaming Sonora, offered a humble apology and a request for forgiveness and arranged for a plane to take the whole lot back to the states.
They had tried to destroy the life of good man. Not like the sort M was used to squashing under his boot without a second thought.
A price would have to be paid for what they had done.
M believed that he was going to have to answer for some of the bad things he had done in his life--but this unholy event was one he would not want to confess.
Detective Kenneth Hutchinson didn't deserve what Sonora had done to him, and he definitely didn't deserve to be on his deathbed looking into the face of the woman who had killed him-- mistaking her for his angel of mercy.
No…not when she was the real Monster in the house.
No, he wasn't the Monster. He was Frank. That's all anyone needed to know about him.
If anybody asked, that's what he'd tell them. He wasn't the name he had been assigned by a handful of taunting kids on a playground over twenty years ago. His name was Frank. He had the power all along to live as Francis…
Those two cops…
He had never seen anything like it. What he saw played out in front of him was great and frightening.
In his line of work he had witnessed how, with just the right amount of persuasion or pain, a person would chuck a good friendship out the window. Sell it down the river without a look back.
But—those two…
Putting themselves in danger, their very lives at risk-- no negotiations when it came to saving the other one. No briefcase full of green-- apparently no amount of pain—no risk too big—no sacrifice too small…
What kind of love was that?
It had M thinking strange thoughts. Wondering if maybe there was still a whole lot more he had to learn about life. Things he didn't know-- about people and about love and friendship.
The cop had treated him like somebody--not just 350 lbs. of muscle on sale to the highest bidder. Hutchinson hadn't asked for anything but gave him more than anyone else ever had. Gave him a name. Yeah. He was Frank.
-ooooo-
The knocking woke him up.
The somber mood in the cabin had sent everyone to bed early. Starsky glanced over at the clock- it was 3:26 a. m. and someone was knocking lightly at the door. Starsky wouldn't have heard it all, except he wasn't really sleeping--just shut down.
"All right!" he yelled with aggravation to the intruder.
Angry, he flung the door open and the cold air made him turn his face away before he had the chance to see the shivering man at the door was Hutch.
"Hutch! What the! Get in here," he demanded as he pulled his freezing partner inside.
"I-I..." Hutch's teeth chattered as he tried to speak.
Continuing to reprimand as he pushed his friend toward the roaring fire in the old wood-burning stove, Starsky told him, "You gotta stop wandering at night like this, buddy."
Hutch looked as bad as he had earlier.
"I t-told you..." he sputtered wearily to Starsky.
August entered the room, snuggled in a quilt. "What…"
Cutting off her question, Starsky waved a hand at the quilt. "Hey, gimme that, huh?"
Seeing a trembling Hutch standing in the small living room, she immediately yanked off the patchwork cloth and gave it to him.
"N-n-o-o, I g-got…got…" A body wracked with tremors stole the words from his mouth as Hutch tried to speak.
"OK. Sokay. Just take it easy, Hutch." Starsky barked out two instructions as he eased his partner on to the oversized couch. "Here, sit down, buddy." And to August, "Put on some hot water, K?"
"Sure. I'll get him some tea," August replied hurriedly.
Starsky pointed a finger in her direction and August immediately picked up his meaning.
"With a little whiskey?" she said.
"Right!" he confirmed
"S-Starsk…." Hutch said weakly.
"Shhh." Starsky quieted Hutch and started undoing Hutch's damp coat, busily working hard to warm him up.
"I—I…" Hutch stuttered.
"What the heck?" A sleep deprived Huggy asked as he made his way into the living room with an equally bedraggled Jay close behind him.
"How did he get here?" Jay wondered.
"Don't tell me..." Huggy's voice added in amazement.
"Starks…" Hutch took a weak hold of Starsky's arm.
"It's all right, we'll get you warmed up in a minute here, part'nr," Starsky assured, draping the heavy quilt around his partner.
"This guy think he's a polar bear?" Jay asked, his concern and worry negated the humor in the question. Huggy just shrugged a reply, his eyes glued on his two friends.
"I got some water on," August announced.
Starsky kept busy covering up his friend as the others talked back and forth. The dark-haired cop looked up to find Hutch studying him seriously.
"Starsk?" Hutch pleaded.
"Quiet," Starsky yelled, scolding the talkative group behind them so he could hear his friend.
They all looked at the two men as Hutch took hold of his friend's arm as he struggled to sit up, leaning in to get close to Starsky. "I told you, Stars I… I-I wanted to go home."
"So what are you…" A confused Starsky looked back at the three, who all were growing broad smiles on their faces.
Realization showed on his face as he turned back to Hutch.
"You mean…you…you sayin' you want to go back to Bay City?"
Hutch nodded tiredly. "Home. I wanta go home."
"Right!" Starsky said triumphantly. "OK. OK!" His expression was jubilant as he looked back to the rest of them. "You heard 'im. My partner wants to settle back into his roots. You got it, boy!"
"Right. Yeah." Starsky rose to his feet and surveyed the room. He clapped his hands together loudly. "OK. Let's get outta here."
People started scrambling around and suitcases and bags quickly found a place on the cabin's living room floor.
"I'll take care of everything. Trust me?" Starsky emphasized his commitment with a hand to Hutch's shoulder.
"Trust you, Starsk. T-t-take me home."
An energized Starsky went about the business of packing his stuff.
Jay pulled the dark-haired cop aside. "You know this ain't over. She's gonna come after you like gangbusters--no pun intended. You gotta take him somewhere no one can find you. Till he gets stable—otherwise, you two don't have a fightin' chance to beat this thing. We need to put some distance between him and Sonora. Let me take care of the details. I'll make sure you have everything you need. All right.
"Yeah, that makes sense. Jay, I don't know how…"
"Gotcha." Winking, he cut Starsky off and immediately made a beeline to the phone and the business of finding his friends a place where Sonora couldn't find them.
-ooooo-
Hideaway"August, right?" he asked.
Looking at the weary, disheveled but still very handsome detective as he sipped the steaming cup of coffee, August felt a little flushed as his gaze settled on her. He was reading her.
Suddenly, feeling a little shy, she looked down at the back of her hands. So--this was the guy they had all risked their lives for.
Even though she had spent several nights playing nurse to him, it was different to now be sitting across from him, the penetrating stare of light blue looking inside her.
After all they were still a man and a woman who had been in an intimate space together. She had held his large hands in hers…had gently swept the silky hair from his damp forehead and let her fingers caress over his cheekbones… lifted his head in her hands to deliver cool water to his lips…had whispered calming words to the uncertainty and trepidation in his eyes. Now they were sitting face to face and he was wondering what kind of woman she was--which was making her very aware of what kind of man he was.
He had a strong presence and she didn't want to get all silly and flustered by it. After all he had been through, at this moment, they were still just man and woman…after all.
She let some air out of her mouth quietly as she made a decision to regain her bearings. "You shouldn't be up," she said firmly.
Hutch looked over to Starsky who lay sprawled across a much-too-small couch, quietly snoring and looking like he was deep in sleep.
"He's knocked out," Hutch said with concern. "Doesn't look too comfortable."
"It's probably the first sleep he's had in weeks," August added.
Hutch looked down guiltily and August put a hand on his arm. "Hey, that's not an indictment against you. He was just worried about his partner." Nodding back at Starsky, she added, "Story has it that-- that could just as easily be you."
"Yeah, I guess that's right," Hutch answered tiredly.
She saw the cup in his hand start to shake and quickly reached out, putting her hands over his to steady it.
"I think you need to get back in bed before this one here wakes up and has my head."
Too tired to protest, he allowed her to take the cup from him, help him to his feet and lead him back to bed.
"H-he's ok, isn't he?" a now worried sounding Hutch asked.
"Ken--Hutch. He's great now. He's got you back. Now, you better lie down," she instructed him.
August saw his energy dissipate, and watched as the turmoil started to overtake him again. Locks of light colored hair sticking out every which way made him look like a little boy she thought as she pulled up the covers around him. She could feel the tremors gaining on him. August didn't know why but she slipped into the bed next to him and put her arms around him.
"I told you David and I were gonna take care of you."
"I-I think I'm s-s-supposed to c-call…call her," Hutch said in a shaky voice. "She…she's...going to be worried. I don't want her to worry…no worries?" His brow furrowed in contemplation of the words he had just spoken.
"No, baby…you don't need to call her," August told him in her best mother knows best voice. "If you call her, she'll want to know where you are and we don't want her to know where you are, right?"
"I just…don't want her…to be worried," he said with strained sincerity.
August didn't know what else to say to the simple telling comment.
Despite it all.
She could have started crying, but she had promised herself to get all this emotional stuff in check. She had a job to do and she couldn't keep getting distracted by the totality of these feelings that were threatening to take over.
This was all new to her.
At home she had a simple life. That life consisted of a work-harder-than-anyone-else-at-the-bureau-have-a-glass-of-wine-with-dinner-watch-some-tv-go-to-bed-early existence. She was happy not to be tied down to some bad relationship or distracted by all the trouble friends and family brought with them.
It was a singularly satisfying lifestyle and now these two cops from Bay City were trying to bring her out of hiding.
Making her feel.
"No calls," she said to him with finality. After seeing the lost look in Hutch's face, she added, "I'm sorry. Now please try to get some rest. We've got a big day ahead of us."
She was looking forward to getting on a plane and getting back to her disconnected from the world existence.
Was that really even possible now?
She looked over at Starsky, who even in his sleep was protector/guardian--one of his hands resting solidly over his gun.
She was in bed with her arms around some man she had only met several days earlier. Who was trusting her… because David Starsky had told him he could.
She thought back to last night and what Starsky had told her about their friendship.
He told her how, at the academy, he had oddly kept bumping into Hutch.
A young man ready to fight the world, Starsky had gone into the academy with his guard up. Prepared for the hazing, beat downs, and sick jokes that it was notorious for. But he instead found this sophisticated mid-westerner who kept putting on a big smile, offering a corny joke, warm handshake, or pat on the back every time he got anywhere near the suspicious New Yorker.
It had started to make Starsky feel uncomfortable--especially when the other cadets started to razz the Brooklyn-born and raised, soon-to-be cop about Hutchinsons' affection for him.
It got to the point where Starsky, with all deliberateness avoided getting close enough for that Midwestern weirdo to lay a hand on him. The effort only put the lanky blond cadet under his harsh scrutiny, and, in his mission to avoid him, David Starsky was forced to observe Ken Hutchinson.
He saw a guy who would go out of his way to talk to the cafeteria ladies and the groundsmen. A person who was sincerely respectful to the superior officers who were their teachers, unlike many of the other recruits who often made rude comments about the instructors as soon as they were out of earshot.
The man Starsky saw put 100 into whatever was set before him— how could the kid from Big Apple not come to respect that. It wasn't just a work—but a life ethic that let Starsky see there was something pretty special about Ken Hutchinson – something beyond his good looks.
Starsky concluded a few pats on the back from someone who lived their life like that—wasn't so bad.
He turned a deaf ear to the taunts of his classmates.
It didn't take long at all for the cautious kid from New York to realize that he actually missed having the "big lug" around. One day he cornered Ken Hutchinson after class, offering an awkward apology along with an invitation to a Saturday afternoon at the ballpark. They had been more than friends ever since.
She replayed the question David had asked her:
"You ever have someone in your life that…you don't have to go through any kind of negotiations with to be around? Don't have to bargain with them on what terms they'll accept you on? I don't have to think about if I should put him first, cuz he puts me first. You know-- somebody that don't ever change the way they receive ya. They've seen ya at your best and your worst--but still think you're worth everything. Worth givin' up their life for…" he paused. "You have expectations…and they don't ever fail ya. Hell, even if he ever did, I'd forgive him, and him, me…cuz there' ain't no going backwards. Not after everything that's happened between us."
August could almost see the light shining from his eyes as he went on. "We were working this case once. Making it look like Hutch had gone over…turned rotten. The guy we were setting up for a fall asked me--why should he believe that I'd be willing to turn bad cop, too? I told him… giving up Hutch to IA would be like me cuttin' off my arm…there was a lot of truth there." Looking through August, Starsky said, "He's part of me."
"He's blood," August said, quietly confirming his words.
Starsky looked at her with surprise, giving her back a smile that acknowledged she was right.
"Yeah, we're blood."
(tbc)