Chapter 20
Hutch opened his eyes quickly wondering what had roused him from his sleep. He lay in his bed and waited before he heard he knock again and bounced out of his bed. Slipping into his robe, he padded to the door and looked through the spy hole. Hitching a breath at the sight, he opened the door and Molly almost fell into the room and into his arms.
'Honey? What's happened? Who did this to you?' Hutch pushed her gently away and took a look at her bruised face and mussed hair. She'd been crying and the tears were still wet on her face, her eyes red rimmed and swollen.
'He didn't mean it' she sobbed, burying her head once again in the blond's neck as he shushed her and gently stroked her hair.
'Who? Who didn't mean it? Who did….oh God, no. You don't mean…. Did Starsky do this?'
'He didn't mean it Hutch. It's like you said he's not himself. He looked at me afterwards and….' Molly burst into tears again, her hands up to her face and gently Hutch led her to his sofa and sat her down. He was away seconds before bringing her a glass of brandy and making sure she sipped it. Slowly the sobs died down and she wiped her eyes on his hanky.
'You wanna tell me what happened?' Hutch asked, once she'd calmed down. 'Just take your time honey'.
Molly stared at the amber liquid in the glass. Swilling it round and round. 'OK. Well um…I got to his house just after 7, like I said I would and he was all sweetness and light. Opened the door an' he was smiling and he liked the wine. I know you'd said he was hiding his reaction to the verdict and I just wanted to help him. So we sat down and I was expecting him just to talk, you know. Maybe be upset and we'd have a little kiss and a cuddle, that sort of thing. But it was like a switch had been thrown and he started coming on to me, like he was some kinda sex maniac. I tried to brush it off…tell him not now, but maybe later. But he wouldn't take no as an answer'.
She looked at Hutch from red rimmed eyes and he could see her pain at having to "betray" her man. He smiled encouragingly, although all he really wanted to do was go deck his partner. 'You're doin' great hon. Go on'.
'It was like he was a different guy. Suddenly he was all over me an' I couldn't keep him off. I told him no, and tried to push his hands away, but something seemed to switch on in his head and he was like a madman. His hands were all over me and he was almost lying on top of me, so I tried to push him off. And then he hit me. Just once, and I must have screamed coz suddenly he changed. He kinda rolled off me and sat at the side of me and he was whispering that he was sorry over and over again, more like he was trying to convince himself than me. He never looked at me again. And I didn't give him much chance. I just got my coat and ran, and then I got to the door I looked back and……oh Hutch! He was just still sitting there, looking at his hands. Like he was frozen into the moment'.
'And are you ok now honey. You could um…..If you needed me to, I could take him in for assault'. The words left him cold, although he was more than mad at Starsky for what he'd done to Molly.
'Oh God no. I'm ok. It's Dave I'm worried about. Find him Hutch…..find him and help him. He didn't mean it, I know he didn't. It's like some kind of delayed reaction maybe. Just find him and keep him safe'.
'What about you though? How're you gonna be?' he asked.
'I'll be fine, honest. I'm gonna go home and put some ice on this and it'll be as good as new in the morning' Molly said lightly. 'I have my car. I just wanted you to find him and help him'.
Hutch pulled the woman to him and kissed the top of her head gently. 'You're a wonderful woman Molly. And one of these days, when he's better, he's going to appreciate that. Thanks'.
Hutch watched as Molly got into her car and drove away. What the hell was Starsky playing at? His women had always said he was a tender, loving, gentle lover, not some monster who craved meaningless sex. What was going on in the curly head? And why wouldn't his partner open up to him and let him know just what Shane Lewis had done to his head, let alone his body. Snagging his keys and unsure what he'd do when he got there, the blond went out to his own car and drove swiftly over to Starsky's house. There were no lights on when he got there and the door was, for once locked. Hutch banged on the door till his knuckles were raw, but there was no answer and with a few gymnastics, he managed to peek through the brunet's bedroom window, finding that the bedroom was empty and the bed was tidy and had not been slept in.
Cursing under his breath, Hutch realised that Starsky wasn't at home although he couldn't have gone too far, as the Torino was still parked in the driveway, under the shade of the big tree. Hutch sighed and looked around. Ridgeway was not the busiest of thoroughfares and in a mostly residential district, but on the corner of the next block there was a rough and ready kind of bar – the sort that the local wino's liked to frequent. With a heavy heart, Hutch walked slowly up the street and pushed open the door to the grimy building, looking around the room through the blue haze of cigarette smoke. His nose wrinkled at the familiar sweet and sickly smell of cannabis burning somewhere nearby, but his eyes finally lingered on a curly haired figure by the bar. He walked over quietly.
Once he was within striking range of his target, however, all thoughts of hitting the brunet, or laying into him for what he'd done to Molly flew out the window. Starsky sat hunched over the bar, bottle of bourbon in one hand, glass of brown liquid in the other. His head hung down until the mahogany curls brushed the rim of his glass and his eyes were closed, small tremors shaking his body. Hutch stared. This wasn't his vibrant, vital partner. This was a shambolic shell of a man, pretending to be Starsky. Gently he put his hand out, resting it on the smaller man's shoulder.
'Starsk. what're you doin' here?' he asked over the din of the bar.
In slow motion, Starsky lifted his head, looking around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. He lifted the glass to his lips, threw back the contents in one and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Unsteadily, he lifted the bottle to pour another tumblerful, but Hutch took it from him and set it down further down the bar.
'Gimme that….s'mine' the brunet slurred. 'Wanna drink'.
'You've had a skinful already Gordo. You need to come home'. Hutch said carefully. Starsky's usually clear eyes looked cloudy and pained and deep lines etched the usually handsome face. His partner seemed to have aged 20 years in a couple of hours and Hutch's heart lurched as the brunet made a mad swipe for the bottle and missed.
'Need a drink…..gimme the bottle' he mumbled, leaning over the bar and teetering on the bar stool.
'Starsky look at yourself. C'mon buddy, come back home with me. We can talk about this, you need company, not a bottle'.
'I need….need a drink. Leave me 'lone Utch. Don't d'serve friends. Wanna be 'lone. I hurt her, I know I did. Just shoot me huh? I can't live like this, I hurt her Hutch an' she trusted me. Wanna die. Just shoot me'.
'I'll shoot ya when you're back to bein' Dave Starsky. Right now you're gonna come home with me'.
'Noo, I hurt her. Wanna die'.
'No you don't. You need to sober up, buddy. Come on, let me get ya outa here'.
Behind him, Hutch felt a hand on his own shoulder. He turned to see a tall, well built black haired man with tattoos up each bare arm. 'I think the man wants to stay' the stranger said belligerently.
'He needs to go home and that where I'm taking him. Back off' Hutch said angrily, staring up into the big man's face.
The big guy looked down with a leer. 'Who're you? His mother? He don't wanna go'. The guy drew his fist back and threw a punch at Hutch. The blond ducked below it and drove his fist into the flabby abdomen in front of him, hearing the satisfying wheeze from above him as the man toppled forward, silvery beads of saliva stringing from his mouth as he gasped for air and clutched at his stomach. The noise in the bar had stopped, the rough and ready drinkers attracted by the noise and the promise of a little excitement. En mass, they surged forward and Hutch drew his gun, pointing it into the crowd now surrounding him and his partner. He flicked it at them, finger on the trigger.
'Back off. I said back off. We don't want no trouble, I just wanna get my friend back home'.
From the back of the room an unseen, but somehow familiar snide voice sounded loud above the heads of the drinkers.
'They're the two faggot cops from the trial on the news. Gonna take your bitch back home now Blondie?' Shane Lewis called then drew back into the crowd.
Hutch froze in his tracks, feeling Starsky tremble beside him. His eyes scanned the crowd, but whoever had shouted out the comment had disappeared into the seething mass and he had no idea who or where he was looking. Grabbing hold of Starsky round the waist, he dragged his partner from the bar, forcing his way through the crowd to the door. He needed air. He needed to get out of that bar and back to sanity. He needed…..
Hutch looked at the trembling man he was holding tightly on to. The alcohol was still in Starsky's body, numbing his senses, but it hadn't been enough to block out the comment. As Hutch pulled him along, he could hear the brunet muttering under his breath.
'Lewis…..its Lewis…..found me…..fuckin'…..shit'.
'Ssh buddy. He aint here, it was just some bozo stirring your pot some. C'mon, lets get ya into the car, huh?' Hutch said as soon as he'd got back to Starsky's house. He couldn't bear the thought of the brunet staying alone tonight. He was sick, if not in his body, then in his mind. The physical scars might have healed, but Shane Lewis was still haunting him and until that ghost had been laid to rest once and for all, Hutch vowed to take care of his partner, and to hell with any comments that came their way. He knew the truth. Yes, he and Starsky were closer than most brothers. And yes, they shared something so special that others might think it strange. But they weren't lovers, never had been, never would be. If anything, they were closer than that.
Hutch bundled the brunet into the car, watching as he collapsed into the seat. Slowly, feeling increasingly weary, Hutch got into the drivers seat, started the engine, and drove back to his apartment. With a struggle, he got Starsky inside and took off his jacket and shoes before making a huge pot of coffee. Pouring a cup, he handed it to the curly haired man.
'Here. Drink this. It's better 'n bourbon'.
'I don't wanna drink coffee' Starsky said into his hands. 'I wanna forget tonight ever happened'.
'Aww buddy, you're still hurting'.
'Yeah? An' so's Molly. I hurt her Hutch. I hurt her so much. Have you seen her? Is she ok? Oh God, she didn't need to go to the hospital did she?' Pleading indigo eyes turned on the blond and he shook his head.
'She bruised some, but nothing serious. And she forgave you Starsk. She loves ya, and she knows you're hurting. She sent me after you. All I wanted to do was wring your neck, but she was more concerned that you weren't hurtin'. She's one in a million buddy'.
'I know. An' then I go an'……Shit Hutch. It was like someone threw a switch in my head an' suddenly I just……it was like I had sumthin to prove……like I needed to prove to myself that he hadn't……dunno, hadn't fucked it out of me. Does that make sense? I can't explain….'
'Does anythin' about this whole thing make sense Starsk? What he did to you was beyond evil. Something no-one, woman or man should have to go through. But he did it and now we have to deal with it'.
'We?'
'Sure. You, me, Molly, Dobey, Traff. We all care. We all want to help, but it's like we're staggerin' round in the dark, trying to find the way. We need to do something, but we don't know what'.
Starsky snorted softly. 'Don't ask me. I'm the screw up remember? I'm fresh out of ideas'.
'Well, my first idea is we can't do nothing while you've got a bottle of Jim Beam floatin' around inside ya. Go to bed, get some sleep an' we can think in the morning. Take the bed buddy. I got the couch and' Hutch looked at his watch 'I have to be up in three hours anyway'.
The brunet rose slightly unsteadily and without argument and deposited the coffee cup on the table. 'Thanks Blondie'.
'For what? Poisoning your system with a caffeine overload?'
'No. For bein' there. Every damned time'.
'Yeah, well. Go t'sleep Gordo. We can talk some more tomorrow'.
Starsky smiled. 'You know, for the first time in months, I feel like I finally got Shane Lewis outa my head and on the run. The punk's gone. Night Blondie'.