GASLIGHT
By M. Willow
Part One
Late Again. And for the fifth time this month. Hutch had waited a full 30 minutes for his partner as the early July heat soaked through his clothes, making the shirt cling to him, becoming almost transparent with sweat. He'd finally decided to get in his car and head to Starsky instead of dealing with the anger that was threatening to boil over. Dobey had said one more time being late, and they were going on traffic duty. With temperatures well over one hundred, that was the last thing Hutch wanted to think about.
Hutch pulled in front of Starsky's place and headed up the stairs, the sun beaming down on him. Starsky was probably still in bed, he reasoned. Maybe even with that curvaceous blonde he'd left the club with last night. It had been Huggy's newest venture, a swank nightclub called Satin Doll that had all the ambiance of a 1940s supper club, complete with plush leather seating, entertainment and plenty of room to dance. Starsky had spent most of the night dancing with the blonde. Hutch had spent most of the night enjoying the entertainment.
He hadn't wanted to go. He'd been tired after a long week of difficult cases. He wanted to stay home, watch a little TV or maybe just read a book. Of course, Starsky wouldn't hear of it. Hutch smiled remembering his partner giving him his best puppy-dog look and telling him how much fun it would be. Who could possibly turn him down? So, he'd agreed to go and ended up having a good time. The sultry singer and the band were talented. And there was a wide variety of drinks. Hutch didn't doubt the club would be a huge hit. After a few hours Starsky and the girl had left together. Hutch had stayed behind for another hour before finally heading home. He'd been dog tired. He'd been looking forward to sleeping a bit later because Starsky was driving this week. Maybe even getting a little nap in on the way to the precent.
He'd been mistaken.
Hutch banged on the door loud enough to wake the dead.
"Terrific," Starsky shouted as he woke from a sound sleep. He looked at the clock. Saw it was only nine o'clock and swung his legs over the bed and headed for the door. He was only wearing shorts, but he didn't bother to throw a robe on or even put on the slippers which sat by his bed. He was exhausted, having only three hours sleep. The damn sleeping pills had stopped working. And now there was an idiot at the door.
"Fucking brilliant," he shouted as he swung the door open.
And the next thing he knew the floor was coming up at him at an incredible speed. He felt strong hands grab him before he reached the floor. The hands were now half-dragging him to the sofa. Then his vision started to tunnel, and early morning sunshine gave way to midnight. He was going to pass out. So, he concentrated on slowing his breaths the way he'd been taught. He blocked out the terror that was reaching for him like claws.
Strong hands touched his face, placed a gentle hand through his hair.
"Hutch," he murmured.
He could hear Hutch's voice, but they seemed far away, garbled. His heart was beating like a jack hammer, his breathing fast. Thoughts of the last time flooded back in a rush that nearly stole his breath. A lot was at stake. He needed to get it together and do it fast. He pictured a calm sea, the way he'd been taught and soon his breaths slowed, and the room came into focus.
"Starsk, Starsk can you hear me?" His partner's voice was fast, his light-blue eyes wide.
Starsky fell forward into his arms, clinging to him. And not answering the question.
Hutch gave a quick assessment of the brunet. His heart rate had slowed, but he was clinging to him like he was a lifeline. Hutch's cop instinct went into overdrive. Starsky was hysterical even now Hutch could feel the tremors going through his body. He looked around. Everything seemed in order. Hutch could see every room from their vantage point. Except the bathroom. That room was in the bedroom. Someone could be there waiting.
Hutch made to get up. "I need to check to see if anyone is here."
"Nobody here," Starsky said, grabbing his hand, looking up at him with his deep blue eyes. "Don't leave. Don't leave me. Need you here."
Hutch spared another glance into the bedroom and figured if someone was there, they would have made themselves known. He settled back and Starsky curled against him.
"The girl is gone, too?" Hutch asked. He couldn't remember her name.
Starsky pulled back, looked at him and seemed confused.
"The girl you left with last night." Hutch clarified.
Starsky shook his head. "Just don't leave, okay. Can't handle it."
Hutch could see love, happiness, fear, their silent communication telling him he had reason to fear for the dark-haired man he called brother, friend, soul mate.
"Nobody's here, just us. Told you."
Silence followed. Finally, Starsky pulled back and looked at him.
"Are you okay?" Hutch asked.
Starsky turned his head. "Yeah. Just a bad dream."
"That was no nightmare, Starsk. You were having a full-blown panic attack."
"'M okay. Told ya. Just a nightmare about Nam."
Hutch looked at his partner and knew he was lying. He wondered why. They'd never lied to each other. Closer than brothers, their ability to read each other without saying a single word meant that honesty had always been a given.
"M' ok," Starsky murmured. She left last night. I had a nightmare. End of story."
Hutch looked at him. He would let it go for now, but it was a topic they would need to revisit. Something had upset the brunet so much that he'd almost passed out. Hutch couldn't pretend it didn't happen.
Starsky thought quickly, calculating the lie he would need to tell, he turned his face away, already feeling the guilt of lying to a man that meant more to him than life itself. "I was having a nightmare about Nam, is all. Don't want to talk about it."
Starsky was in the kitchen preparing a breakfast he didn't want. He'd told another lie. Hutch believed that Dobey called and had given them two weeks off. Now Starsky had to figure out how to keep Hutch inside this time. He wouldn't allow him to go out at all. It wouldn't be easy. He'd already told at least three lies, but more would follow if he hoped to play this out. Hutch wouldn't mind sleeping on the sofa for a few days, but he'd still want to go for a jog in the morning,
Starsky couldn't allow that.
So that meant he had to keep lying. He didn't feel good about it, but the alternative was worse. And maybe lying wasn't so bad. Considering.
Starsky counted his luck. There was enough food to last two weeks. Hutch had enough clothes to last even longer. Starsky didn't have time to consider how crazy all of this was. He was just glad he was getting another chance. Hutch was here.
Soon he felt the presence of his partner even though he had his back turned. A tremor went through his body. "You checked good?" He retrieved a plate, sliding the omelet on it, and turned to his partner. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Hutch seemed skittish. For a moment Starsky wanted to blurt it out. But he couldn't. He wasn't ready. And maybe this would have to be enough.,
"I thought the nightmares had stopped years ago, Starsk." He sat down at the table.
"Sometimes I still have them."
"You never mentioned it," Hutch said.
Starsky smiled. "Didn't want to scare you." Starsky sat his plate on the table then sat down facing him. "You sure you don't want anything?"
Hutch shook his head. Looked at him. "Since when have we kept secrets?"
Starsky looked down at his plate, gathering a forkful of the egg mixture. "I'm handling it. Didn't seem like a big deal."
"It looked like a big deal to me," Hutch countered.
"Just leave it, Hutch. I'll tell ya when I'm ready."
And the lie hung in the air like a dark cloud. Starsky could see the hurt in Hutch's eyes. He knew the blond didn't believe him. They could read each other that well. But that was good news. It meant Hutch wasn't going anywhere. He would stay to make sure he was safe.
Two days later Starsky's mental state had taken a nosedive with the brunet still refusing to tell Hutch what had happened. Every time Hutch would bring it up, Starsky would tell him nothing happened. Hutch wasn't buying it. Sometimes he would look in Starsky's eyes and see nothing but fear. But it was the quiet times that scared Hutch the most. Starsky would sit and stare at him like he was studying him. Hutch was grateful that Dobey had given them two weeks off. It seemed strange that his captain would do that, but the timing was perfect. It would give him time for Starsky to level with him. For now, he only had his suspicions. And they were terrifying.
Starsky had left with a stranger. There was a string of robberies where women were used to trick men into leaving with them, only to rob them at an opportune time. These women worked in teams with men who were more than willing to commit easy crimes. Some of the victims would allow the women to tie them up which meant all they had to do was take off with the goods.
The victims would mostly be found tied up the next day by a roommate or friend. They were embarrassed, at the most. But recently a new form of the crime had been committed. In this case a man had been sexually assaulted.
Hutch stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was standing in the bathroom, trying to fight back the panic that was fast overwhelming him.
What if Starsky was sexually attacked by a man?
Would he tell Hutch?
Most victims of sexual assault wouldn't tell—not their mother, brother, sister—their closest friend. And that was the female victims.
Hutch leaned forward as his breakfast rose in his throat.
Now a male victim was an entirely different thing. They felt the same shame as a female victim, but they also felt that they should have been able to fight them off.
And Starsky being a cop would make that reality even worse.
Hutch fought to control the tremors running through his body. He was breathing hard, the fear taking his breath away. He would need to do everything in his power to get Starsky through this. His two years in medical school taught him that he needed to be there for his partner. But not to force him to talk. Starsky had to want to talk. He had to feel safe to do so.
Hutch brought his breathing under control, threw cold water on his face and walked out to join his partner on the sofa.
A fog surrounded him. Starsky walked through the dimly lit streets alone. In the distance thunder sounded. He looked up at the ink black sky and knew it would be a matter of time before it started to rain. He listened for the sound of footsteps. But he was alone. Always alone.
Up ahead he could see the outline of a gate. He didn't move. Still, he moved forward. He was close to the gate, now. Close enough to read the sign: West Side cemetery emblazoned in white lettering, the stairs and the woman standing there, her hair blowing in the wind. He was powerless to stop his movement towards her. It was like being on a moving sidewalk.
"It's time," she whispered.
She had no face.
Hutch leaped from the sofa, his heart racing, the screams still echoing in the night. He ran to Starsky's room, saw the brunet sitting up, his eyes wide, unseeing. Wasting no time to get to his partner, he nevertheless moved cautiously. He didn't want to startle him. "It's okay, okay," he said as he moved slowly to the bed and sat down. He took Starsky's hand firmly in his, felt the slight tremor go through his partner's body. Then Starsky locked eyes with him.
"Hutch?"
"It's me, Gordo."
Starsky fell into his arms. Hutch wasn't wearing a shirt, so he felt the wetness that indicated his partner was crying.
"Just a nightmare. You're going to be okay. You're safe."
"Never leave me," Starsky murmured against his chest. "Promise me, Hutch."
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
Starsky went almost boneless in his arms. Hutch held him as tight as possible.
"'M scared. So scared, Hutch. You don't know what it's like."
Hutch rubbed his friends back. "I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready."
"Can't"
"There is nothing you can't tell me," Hutch said. "You know that."
Starsky let him go, stared into his eyes. For an instant Hutch could see a question within their dark blue depths. Then Starsky's face went blank and the silent communication they always enjoyed drifted away like fallen leaves.
"I need a shower," Starsky said. And he got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door softly after him.
Starsky stood under the shower head, letting the cold water run over him. His legs were wobbly from the nightmare. He'd had the same one for the past year. The cemetery. The woman with no face. The pills had kept the nightmares at bay for a while, but he'd stopped taking them when Hutch appeared. Now his nights were filled with terror.
Starsky poured shampoo in his hair, rubbing it through, then let the warm water wash over him. He wished it was enough to calm his nerves. But he did have Hutch. Maybe not in the way he'd wished, but he was a desperate man. A broken man. Should he stop now? Take the pills and see it all go away like melting snow in the spring.
Hutch had held him, made him feel safe for the first time in a year.
So, there were two parts of him. There was the rational Starsky, the one that said he should pick up the phone and call Dobey. In his mind's eye it was this man who left the shower and took the pills he had hidden in his drawer.
But there was the other man, a man driven by his selfish wish to have his life back, the way it used to be. And this man is the one who left the shower.
Starsky toweled his hair then used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. He didn't like what he saw. His eyes were huge, sunken. They spoke of a man on the brink of insanity. He could almost smell the scent of urine mixed with the cleaning chemicals of a mental hospital. The place was calling for him. The thought terrified him. He remembered the mental hospital where he'd been tied down, alone, afraid. Cabrillo had been under investigation for a number of suspicious deaths. He and Hutch had gone undercover. Seemed like a good idea and the best way to get answers, but Starsky had ended up drugged and in a strait-jacket. And Hutch had almost been killed by the doctor who'd been experimenting on his patients. If it hadn't been for a nurse who thought it had all gone too far, He and his partner could have died.
Starsky had had nightmares for months after that assignment. Hutch had spent weeks on his sofa, waking him through the worst of them,s, sitting with him as he talked about how afraid he'd been once he'd been drugged and unable to move. He'd been lost, scared, his only anchor Hutch. So now maybe living a lie wasn't so bad. Maybe it was better to go on living in the blissful kind of hell he was now in because the fires of hell felt better than the alternative.
Starsky dressed, shaved and went back to the lie.
A week passed. Hutch had moved from his customary position on the sofa to the large, overstuffed chair in Starsky's bedroom because the nightmares had become a nightly routine for the brunet. Hutch needed to be close just to calm him down. His partner would wake up screaming, sweat drenching his body, clinging to him with all his strength, always begging him not to leave. And Hutch didn't. His daily runs were now a thing of the past. Even taking the garbage out could send Starsky into a fit of panic.
They had one more week off. Then what? Hutch wondered. Starsky was in no way ready to return to the force. He was having a nervous breakdown right in front of him. And Hutch was sitting there petrified, standing still like a man staring down a car that was about to hit him.
Always Cabrillo called out to him. He kept seeing his partner laying on a bed, doped up out of his mind. Maybe strapped to the bed the way he'd been during there undercover assignment. Starsky had put on a brave face at the end of that one. They'd won, after all. But in the privacy of home Starsky had broken down. And nightmares plagued him for weeks.
It hadn't been easy for Hutch, either. He'd gone through his own personal hell in that place. Now, he remembered how hopeless he'd felt seeing his partner bound, doped up, his eyes blank. Hutch had looked into those eyes and felt nothing.
He could never put his partner in a place like that. Never.
Hutch stood in Starsky's sunny kitchen. He pasted on a smile. He was preparing his partner one of his favorites—Sausage and eggs. He'd finish his liquid health shake earlier. Now he sat the hearty breakfast on the table and was greeted with a smile and a lie.
"This looks good, Hutch," he said, taking a mouthful of the eggs.
Hutch poured coffee for both of them then he was sitting with his partner at the table. Starsky spent his time chatting about anything but the problem. He wouldn't meet his eyes which was disturbing in itself because they'd always communicated that way.
"Want to talk about last night?" Hutch asked.
"What about last night," Starsky said.
Hutch took a sip of coffee. "The nightmares, Starsk,"
Starsky waved his hand dismisively as he shoveled the egg mixture into his mouth. "Can't remember."
Hutch wasn't buying it. For one Starsky still kept his eyes anywhere but on him. He had to get the brunet to talk. Maybe if everything was out in the open, he could do something. That he didn't know what that something could be might be a problem in itself.
Hutch shivered, wrapping his hands around his mug of coffee, as he listened to Starsky prattle on.
"I think we should heat up that frozen pizza," the brunet was saying. "Maybe watch that game or that old Charles Boyer movie on TV. You know I love his accent."
And the brunet did an imitation of the Frenchman that was just as bad as his Muni imitation. Hutch could hear the false cheerfulness.
"Of course, we can watch that game," Starsky said, painting on a false smile and taking a sip of coffee.
"Or we can go out." Hutch said.
Starsky's eyes froze. "So, what'd ya think? Game or Boyer?"
"I think we should go out. See Huggy at his bugger joint. Wouldn't you love to have his famous burgers?" He smiled, reading his partner, waiting for the usual excuses of why they had to stay in.
Starsky's face went instantly white. "We can't go out." He said quietly, finally meeting his eyes.
Hutch pulled in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Why not? Will do you good, Gordo. We've been in over a week. You're starting to look as pale as me." Hutch didn't mention the sunken look of his eyes.
Starsky closed his eyes. "I'm tired. Just want to stay in."
Hutch dropped the subject, but a cold shiver went through him all the way up his spine. He needed to get his partner talking, but not in a way that would make him shut down. If Hutch were right about the sexual assault, treading lightly was important. He couldn't push, but he had to make sure Starsky knew that he was safe. He wouldn't be blamed for what happened.
Hutch leaned forward and touched his partner's hand. "tell me, Starsk. Did someone hurt you?"
"Don't leave," Starsky said, dropping his eyes.
"You know I would never do that no matter what happened. You must know it wasn't your fault, babe."
"Told you nothing happened."
Hutch pictured his partner lying there helpless. Calling for him. And he hadn't been there. Hutch didn't know he was crying until he heard Starsky's voice
"You, okay?"
Hutch shook his head. "I'm s—so—sorry. My fault."
They locked eyes. Outside a car backfired and children could be heard as they headed off to school.
"Starsk, talk to me. Don't shut me out. Please, don't shut me out."
"Hutch..."
"I'm worried about you," Hutch continued, his voice trembling. "Did someone…"
Starsky's face went blank, his eyes unreadable. Hutch saw the door slam in those eyes. A moment later Starsky rose and walked away. Hutch heard Starsky shut his bedroom door. And lock it.
Hutch sat there, the sunlight streaming in bathing the room in gold. Everything looked so normal, but his mind was racing, filling in the blanks. He pictured his partner coming home with the woman and a man appearing when he was at his most vulnerable. "OH, god," he shouted, dropping his head into his hands, letting the tears flow freely, but they brought him no comfort.
Starsky sat on his bed. He figured Hutch thought he'd been sexually assaulted by a man. So maybe he should have told him the truth. But where would that lead? Hutch might leave him. Disappear from his life. Like the last time. Starsky couldn't survive it again. He still remembered coming out his bedroom and finding the apartment empty. Starsky had run through the streets, calling for the blond before finally giving up and calling Dobey. Then the emptiness followed, the mind-numbing terror that life as he knew it was finally over and he had to accept it. So, now he faced it again along with his own desperate need. He was a dying man in the desert who needed water. Hutch was everything to him. He would not let go, but at the same time the hurt he saw in his partner's eyes ate through him like acid. So real. Everything felt real. It hadn't been as easy to lie as he'd expected. But he didn't have a choice. At least, not one he liked.
Starsky looked at his dresser. So easy to end it now. To let go, feel himself falling. It had been one week since he took a pill. He'd been on them for about six months. They helped and were certainly better than ending up in a psych ward, but he'd stopped taking them the minute Hutch appeared. He'd been afraid to take them. Maybe it was better to never take them again. To go on. But what of the future? Could he continue the lie? Would it even matter?
He was a drowning man. A man who could be saved by one. He was alone. Truly alone. "Time, I face it," he murmured, getting up and going to his dresser. He opened the top drawer. Just take them, he told himself. Get it over with. He thought of Hutch. And in that moment, he realized he couldn't go on. Nothing was real and yet if felt real. He had been lying and that felt real. Eventually it had to end. So why not just get it over with now? Maybe now wouldn't be as painful as waiting. He opened the bottle and took out a pill, swallowing without water. He looked at the door and thought about how he would feel when he opened it and found himself alone.
Would he survive this time?
The tears came fast and hard, the absence of his best friend making his stomach roll. He took another pill, fell to the floor and curled himself into a ball. He had to let go. Maybe if he took enough of the pills, it would be over quicker. He heard the frantic knocks of his partner. He wondered how many pills it would take to make the knocking stop. He took another pill and slammed the rest across the floor. Just as quickly he started crawling, gathering them, cursing that some had rolled beneath the armoire.
The knocking grew frantic, his name being called. Hutch's voice, Hutch's presence. His partner, best friend, closer than a brother. So inconceivable that he wasn't real.
He got up and hurried to the bathroom still holding the pills he'd gathered. He tossed them into the toilet and flushed them down, tossing the empty container into the garbage. He regretted his action almost immediately.
"Open the door," the voice shouted.
But he couldn't move. He didn't want to see what was on the other side of the door. He wasn't ready yet. Instead, he held onto the voice, the presence of Hutch.
One year ago, he'd lost his very soul. He'd watched it disappear in seconds, in waves, dry leaves on an autumn day washed away by the coming storm.
Starsky dropped to the floor. He knew what he had to do. It was time. He heard the outer door slam open then his wide-eyed partner stood there.
Starsky rose quickly, leaning against the sink for support. Hutch was reaching his hand out to him. So easy to take. How tempting. He imagined warmth, safety, Hutch. The room was spinning as he said the unimaginable words. "Don't touch me."
So real. Everything so real.
Hutch backed away, his hands up. Tears in his eyes.
Starsky staggered to the bedroom. His legs were weak, wobbly, but he made it to the bed. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew so well. He stared at the blond. Maybe he would see him disappear this time. A second later he heard the voice of Dobey. He pulled in a breath, letting it out slowly.
"Help me. Dear God. It's happening again." He let the phone drop to the floor. He rose, backing away until he felt the wall against his back. Hutch stood there, his eyes wide, hands outstretched, slowly approaching.
"No, Starsky said. I can't handle it. Please don't make me watch you go away."
Hutch recalled the terror of hearing Starsky lock the bathroom door. Since when had they ever felt the need to lock each other out? They'd seen each other in some of the worst conditions. They were far past embarrassment or even the need for privacy, so it was like a steel knife cutting through him and the need to get into that bathroom felt immediate. Starsky was in danger. And the danger was not someone outside. It was the man himself. It was then that Hutch had raced to the bedroom, calling his partner's name, begging him to open the door. But he didn't and Hutch had finally decided to break it down.
Now, the cold claw of dread ran up his spine. He didn't know how he could help Starsky. He was looking at the inexplicable fact that Starsky's breakdown was complete and that he was powerless to stop its progress. Was it a sexual attack? He'd started to doubt it for the first time. This looked like something that had been simmering for a long time. Not just one week. But how had he missed it?
Starsky had survived so much. Maybe all of this had led to his breakdown. Maybe it had been too much, and Hutch had been too blind to see what was happening.
Three weeks ago, the brunet had been his usual bubbly self. He was talking about getting a new pet rock from Huggy. Or maybe even one of his rats.
"Rats are good pets, Hutch," he had said. "They're less work than a dog or cat and you could still snuggle with them at night."
And Hutch had joked that he would never spend the night at Starsky's house again if he ever woke up on the sofa with a rat snuggling next to him. They had both laughed.
Now that same man was hovering in a corner. His eyes were wide almost unseeing. Hutch had felt their connection snap.
Hutch stepped forward. Starsky moved quickly to the other corner. Hutch stopped and prayed to God that whoever his best friend had called would come and help. It seemed impossible that it couldn't be him.
Hutch sat down on the floor, splaying his hands the way you would do with a skittish child, or someone who was about to jump off a roof. "I want to help." He said, careful to keep his voice even.
"You can't."
"Why not? We've always been there for each other. Not going to stop now."
Starsky closed his eyes. "Then why did you leave me? Didn't you know what it would do to me?"
"I never left. I'm right here, Gordo. Right here." Fear clawed through him. What was happening?
Thunder sounded in the distance and the sunlight had given way to near darkness. Hutch stayed riveted in place, staring at his partner who still had his eyes closed.
Then Starsky's soft voice. "You're dead, Hutch. You're dead. You died one year ago."
Authors note: This is not a death story. It's pure gaslighting.
