Reclamation

Most days Hutch seemed okay. Once the initial shock and anger had worn off, Starsky and he had talked about what had happened. Initially, Hutch had been full of grief. Then he'd been furious with his partner for attempting to pay Gillian to go away but then, a few days later, he'd thanked Starsky for caring enough about him to try it; even though it had been a misguided action. He'd even forgiven Starsky for being the one to tell him the bad news of Gillian's identity. Since then, however, he had just clammed up on the subject.

Starsky had left him to his thoughts, knowing that his friend needed time and space to process what had happened to him but he had to admit he was beginning to worry. Hutch was starting to have moments when he'd act out of character, snarling at everyone who crossed their path; even people to whom he would normally have held out a comforting hand. It was if he was walling himself off from feeling anything for anyone, so that he couldn't be hurt anymore. Starsky didn't like seeing his friend hurting this badly. It was horrible to know how happy he had been just a few weeks ago and how wounded he was by seeing his dreams crushed so unexpectedly and violently.

Yes, Hutch had been happy, really happy. He'd been head over heels in love. It could have been sickening but it wasn't, it was cute and good. Hutch's love for Gillian had made him beam like golden sunshine and Starsky had been pleased for him. Glad that he'd found someone who made him look as if he was filled to the brim with liquid gold.

But, even in the few brief moments Starsky had spent with both of them, he had noticed that Gillian sometimes had a look on her face like a shoe had dropped and she was waiting for the other one to follow. Unfortunately, it had; had dropped in an even worse way than Starsky could ever have imagined.

The revelation of Gillian's secret life had been shocking but, worse than that, he was the one to find out and Hutch had never got to hear it from Gillian's own lips. Her boss, and her boss's son, had made sure of that. The Grossmans. Gross by name and nature. Yes, they'd wanted to destroy Gillian and in doing so were more than pleased to wound a 'lousy' cop in the bargain. For them, he wasn't just collateral damage; he was a welcome bonus. They'd been ruthless, totally self-absorbed and possibly quite mad.

And so Gillian was dead and so were Hutch's brief dreams. Starsky suddenly realised something. Death had taken Gillian away physically but it was the revelation that had caused even more damage. It had taken and twisted all the good memories that the two of them had shared so that now Hutch had no comfort from them. Well, that wasn't right. Maybe there was something that he could do to help with that. Maybe he could reclaim a little of what had been stolen from his best friend.

/\/\/\/\/\

On Saturday morning, Starsky made his way to San Diego to see Gillian's sister, whom he had met briefly at Gillian's funeral. The San Diego Police Department had made the notification to the family and he could only imagine what they had made of the news. The family members that had attended the funeral had all looked shocked and bewildered. The minister had done his best under the circumstances but it had been a pretty grim affair and Hutch had only just made it through it. Neither of them had lingered afterwards. Gillian had been buried in Bay City. To Starsky's mind, that spoke volumes.

The door to Louisa's ground floor apartment was opened as soon as he knocked on it. He had warned her he was coming and she must have spotted his car from her front window.

"Hi, thanks for seeing me," Starsky said.

"No problem." Louisa invited him to sit down. "I didn't expect to see you again, Detective Starsky, at least not until the trial. Not that I will definitely be going…It's too painful, you know. Knowing what happened to her and what she was doing for the Grossman's. I-I don't like remembering her that way. She was my little sister after all."

"Yeah, I guess it must be rough for you," Starsky said.

"What did you want to ask me? Is it something to do with the trial?"

Starsky shifted uncomfortably, not sure how much to say. He wanted to help Hutch but he didn't want to betray his trust.

"My partner, Detective Hutchinson, was friends with Gillian. He's pretty cut up about her death," he decided to say.

"They were friends?" Louisa asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, good friends. He was in love with her and I believe she was in love with him. She wanted to leave the Grossmans…and that's what got her killed."

Louisa looked down frowning, trying to process what she'd been told. "Since the police came and told us and we heard about what the Grossmans' organisation consisted of…well, that's been a bitter pill to swallow. I couldn't bear to think of Gillian living that lifestyle…selling herself."

Starsky stayed quiet, waiting for Louisa to think through her feelings. After a moment she looked up at him.

"She was happy with your partner?"

"Yeah, they were both happy, very happy."

Louisa smiled. "That's really nice to know. That helps. Thank you for telling me that."

Starsky nodded.

"So did you just come to tell me that? Or was there something else?"

Starsky cleared his throat. "Hutch is hurting and he ain't got nothing to remember her by. I just wondered if you had a photograph that I could maybe take a copy of for him."

Louisa nodded and stood up. "I know just the one. Wait there and I'll get it for you."

She disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a colour photograph, which she passed to Starsky. He looked at it with surprise. He'd been expecting to be shown a photo from several years ago but this one looked quite recent.

Louisa explained, "Gillian may not have told us exactly what she was doing but she kept in touch. She sent me that photo about six months ago to show me her new hairstyle. Will that do?"

"Thank you, it's perfect," Starsky said. "Is there some place local I can get it copied?"

"Yes. Why don't I come with you and show you where?"

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

/\/\/\/\/\

A few hours later, Starsky was on his way home to Bay City with a copy of the photograph carefully placed in an envelope in his inside jacket pocket. He drove straight to Hutch's. Hutch was home; the lights from Venice Place shining out into the darkening evening. Starsky jogged up the stairs, knocked on the door and then walked in. Hutch was expecting him for dinner. They'd arranged to watch the game together over a pizza.

"Hey Starsk, you're early," Hutch called from his greenhouse. "I'll be out in a minute."

"That's fine."

Starsky was glad to see Hutch was still doing normal things like looking after his plants. He walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He could see a large pizza sitting on the shelf. The oven was warming ready to heat the pie up and, ever hopeful, Hutch had made a bowl of salad, which was sat ready on his kitchen table next to two large plates.

Starsky took off his jacket as he walked back to the couch and sat down. He laid the jacket on the arm within reach. After a few minutes, Hutch came out of his greenhouse, watering can in hand. He carried it through to the kitchen and placed it on the windowsill. Next, he took a beer out of the fridge, took the pizza out of its box and slid it carefully onto the hot metal shelf of the oven. Then he joined Starsky on the couch.

"What have you been up to today?" Hutch asked, more out of something to say than really wanting to know the answer.

"I went for a drive on the I5. Up to San Diego."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I went to see Louisa. Gillian's sister."

Hutch's face darkened and he looked away.

"How come?"

"I went for you."

Hutch turned to look at Starsky, a puzzled expression on his face.

"For me?"

"Yeah, I'm worried about ya. I'm worried you're turning into Simon and Garfunkel."

Hutch's confusion was plain. "Huh? What on earth does that mean?"

"You know."

"No, I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Well, it seems to me you're thinking about turning into a rock, not letting anyone get close to you again."

"You've been reading Dr Brothers again and think you're suddenly a psychologist. That it?"

"Nah. Yeah. Maybe. It's just I realised something a couple of days ago. You didn't just lose Gillian," Starsky saw Hutch wince in pain at his words, "You lost who you thought she was, you lost your dreams and you lost your good memories."

"She lied to me."

"No, she didn't. She just didn't tell you everything about herself but she was planning to."

Hutch was silent.

"Seems to me that you've been trying to make yourself into self-contained little island that no-one else is going to be allowed into. You're blocking people out in case; to stop yourself from getting hurt. That's a mistake, pal. I know it's way too soon to talk about meeting someone new but eventually, eventually you will. You got so much to give in a relationship, buddy. You'll find just the right person one day. So you shouldn't cut yourself off from the chance of happiness in the future by cutting yourself off from people now."

Hutch sipped on his beer. "You done?"

"Almost," Starsky ploughed slowly and cautiously on, "I think you need to rediscover the good memories of your time with Gillian, however brief that was. She loved you, Hutch. You made her happy, and Louisa was very glad that she'd had some happiness before she died."

Hutch's eyes flashed. "Why were you discussing my personal life with Gillian's sister? You had no right."

Starsky nodded. "I know. I didn't want to but it was the only way I could think of to help you. It meant I could get you this."

Starsky reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope. He held it out towards Hutch. Hutch stared at it. He placed his bottle down on the coffee table, before taking the envelope from Starsky. He lifted the flap and pulled the photograph from inside. Starsky heard him gulp.

"She was a beautiful person, Hutch. Doesn't matter what she did. She loved you and she was going to change her life for you. You need to remember that. It's painful now, I know it is, but after some time passes, you'll be able to focus on the good things about her instead of the bad things that happened. You gotta at least try."

Hutch swallowed and whispered, "She was beautiful."

"She was."

"And she loved me."

"She did."

Suddenly, Hutch was crying. Through his tears, he stuttered, "I loved her so much, Starsk."

"I know you did, buddy. I know."

Starsky put his arm around Hutch's shoulder and pulled him close. After a few minutes, Hutch wiped his eyes dry. Suddenly, Starsky realised he could smell the pizza.

"I think I'd better check on the pizza, pal, before it goes up in flames."

They both stood up and hurried over to the oven. They were there just in time to stop the melted cheese turning too dark.

As they settled at the table and put slices of the pie on their plates, Hutch said quietly, "Thanks, Starsk. I-I'm glad to have the picture."

Starsky nodded. "Good, I'm glad."

They ate for a while in silence then Hutch said, "Thanks for butting in where I didn't want you."

Starsky grinned with relief. "You're welcome. You've done the same for me often enough."

Hutch gave him a watery smile. "That's true." Hutch looked like he wanted to say more but couldn't.

Starsky shrugged and spoke through a last mouthful of pizza: "What are we having for dessert?"

Hutch half-chuckled, half-choked. "If you eat some salad, I'll dig out the popcorn I've hidden away."

With a grimace, Starsky stabbed a fork into a bit of cucumber and lettuce. He stuffed it in his mouth and ate it quickly. Then washed it down with his beer.

"There!"

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Is that all you're going to have?"

"You never said how much of it I had to eat! Next time, be more specific."

"I will! You can count on it," Hutch declared.

"I'll put the game on," Starsky said, getting up from the table.

"All right," Hutch agreed, "And I'll make us some popcorn."

A few minutes later, they were both sat on the couch with a big bowl of hot popcorn between them.

Starsky snuck a look at his friend and saw him glancing at Gillian's photo. There was a very small smile on his lips. It was going to be a long road to reclaiming those good memories but it was a start.

/\/\/\/\/\

A/N A very old SHFAFF Friday Fiction prompt (December 2019) sparked this story – I am a Rock.