A/N Tied to the episode "Manchild on the Streets". Some dialogue is borrowed from the episode.
Who comforts the comforter?
Starsky lurched awake to the sound of weeping and felt his heart hammer with shock. Sammie was sobbing into her hands and that could only mean one thing: Jackson was dead. As his heart started to break apart, Starsky leaned across and pulled her shaking form closer, moving her to sit beside him on the waiting room sofa. He held her as she cried, clutching at his jacket and whispering his name in despair. Starsky heard the waiting room doors open and footsteps approaching. He knew it was Hutch before he saw him.
"Jackson's dead."
Starsky didn't want to utter those words: didn't want to see Hutch's world crumbling around him; didn't want to cause his best friend pain; didn't want to say the words that meant it was real - that Jackson was really gone.
"Jackson's dead."
"Oh my God!" Hutch didn't want to hear those words: didn't want to see the pain etched on his partner's face. He stood in shock as a wave of grief crashed through him and threatened to engulf him. All he wanted at that moment was Starsky's arms around him: to be comforted and to comfort his friend but Starsky was needed by Sammie, Jackson's surrogate daughter, and he couldn't begrudge her.
Starsky spoke softly to Sammie, his voice husky as he tried to keep his tears in check, to stay strong for her: "I…I think maybe we'd better go home…okay?"
"Okay," was the whispered reply and Sammie allowed Starsky to pull her to her feet.
In anguish, Hutch reached for Starsky's arm, wanting to comfort him as well as being comforted himself. He struggled to speak: "I want to talk to Andrews and Clayborne…and a few witnesses."
He was trying to function normally, get on with the job he had to do as a police officer, but suddenly that felt alien to him and he found his thoughts were clouded, making it almost impossible to know what he should be doing now. Hutch couldn't say any more. He just looked at Starsky and tried to convey how sorry he was for his friend's loss.
Starsky knew what Hutch was trying to say. As always, he knew what his friend needed too. He reached out a gentle hand and ran it along Hutch's neck and into his hair. The touch saying: "I know what you're feeling. I've got to go, buddy, but I'll be there with you. You're not alone in this. Stay strong."
Then Starsky moved away, holding Sammie up as they made their way out of the hospital, leaving Hutch to wipe his tears and try to gather his thoughts together. He had a job to do to get Jackson the justice he deserved.
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Starsky didn't know how he had the strength to hold himself together; he only knew that he must for Sammie's sake and for Mrs Walters's sake. Somehow he got Sammie as far as the front door and they looked at each other hopelessly as Mrs Walters came to the door and invited them inside full of chatter: asking about Sammie's shift and wondering where Jackson was and why he was late.
She invited Sammie and Starsky to sit down and have some breakfast.
Starsky knew he had to tell her what had happened but he couldn't seem to find a way to start. It was going to be such a shock for her. He didn't want to be the one to take away her joy.
"I think maybe you'd better sit down," he said.
"Now since when do the guests start telling…" her voice trailed away and she sat down heavily. She saw the pained look on both their faces. Something was desperately wrong. "Oh my God! Something's happened. Junior's out delivering his papers. He hasn't had an accident, has he?"
"No," Starsky managed to get the word out of a mouth, which felt as dry as a husk of corn lying in the desert.
Sammie came and knelt on the floor beside her, trying to reassure her about Junior and in order to be ready to comfort her when she finally knew the truth. She couldn't bring herself to break the news.
Starsky pulled a chair over and sat down close to Jackson's mother, saying, "It's Jackson."
She looked from one to the other. "Oh. His bus crashed. He's had an accident…Ever since he's been on night shift…Where is he?..."
Sammie looked despairingly at Starsky. Jackson's mother followed her gaze and searched Starsky's face.
"Is he in the hospital? Is he all right?"
Sammie tried to speak - to utter the devastating words and tell her – but her voice refused to work. The words stuck fast behind a lump of grief in her throat that might never go away. Starsky could only look down at the floor with a sense of hopelessness. His heart hurt so much. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, didn't think he could possibly be strong enough. Mrs Walters could feel her heart constricting. She knew the truth, as only a mother can, but she needed someone to say the words out loud.
"Well, talk to me David. Don't just stare into space."
Starsky was struggling to keep his emotions under control. He tried to speak: "Jackson…" The shock was wearing off and the reality was setting in now. "Oh my God!" the anguish in his voice was palpable. "Jackson's dead, Mrs Walters."
"My son is dead?"
At the pain in her voice, Sammie called out to her like a little girl: "Mama."
"How can he be dead? How can that be?"
Starsky tried to explain what happened in a way that would make it easier for her to understand at this moment of shock. He had to hold in his own feelings about what had happened and give her the bare facts. Suddenly, a newspaper came flying through the door and Starsky realised, with horror, that Junior had overheard the conversation. As the boy ran, he gave chase, wanting to look after him and comfort him for his father's sake. When Junior finally stopped running, Starsky spoke words of comfort to him, trying to lend his strength to help the boy bear what was unbearable.
"My name's not Junior. My father's dead."
The words that Junior spoke would be forever etched on Starsky's mind and he felt another piece of his own heart break: for a child who was going to have to grow up too fast without a father; for the boy he had been when his own father had died at the hands of another, leaving him lost and hurt and broken.
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Hutch had interviewed lots of witnesses and written up his report. It was dark by the time he finished and all he wanted to do was go home. Starsky had rung in a little while ago, saying he was beat and he was calling it a night. He talked a little to Hutch about what witness statements he had got so far and how Sammie, Mrs Walters and Junior were doing.
The exhaustion was clear in Starsky's voice: he had stayed with the family for the whole day: running Mrs Walters to Midway Hospital to fill in the necessary paperwork to get Jackson's body released once the police investigation was finished; taken her to the funeral home to begin the funeral arrangements; and taken her to see her minister. Starsky had stayed strong throughout all of these ordeals and now his energy was entirely spent. Hutch listened to his friend and thought: "Who comforts the comforter?"
As he thought about going home, Hutch realised his car was at his place as Starsky had picked him up that morning. No, it was yesterday morning, wasn't it? Early yesterday evening, they had been playing basketball with Jackson before he went on shift. Last night they had waited at the hospital for news and this morning Starsky and Sammie had gone to tell Jackson's family the news.
Both he and Starsky had only had a few hours' sleep, snatched in chairs in the hospital waiting room. Earlier, Hutch had fallen asleep for forty minutes at his desk, head first on a pile of paperwork. Captain Dobey and his colleagues had left him, hoping he might sleep for longer, but he came to abruptly, grabbed more coffee and ploughed on with taking witness statements. Now, the caffeine energy had run out, his limbs ached and his eyes felt like they had been rubbed with sandpaper. He couldn't wait to go to bed. He wondered if Starsky was already asleep.
"Who comforts the comforter?"
The words nagged at him. Pushing aside his own exhaustion, Hutch took a cab from the Metro Building to Starsky's house. Wearily, he climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. There was a distant mumbling and eventually the door was opened to reveal Starsky. He motioned Hutch to come in and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it as fatigue began to get a grip and threatened to take control of his limbs.
"Sorry, buddy," Starsky struggled to say. "I wanted to come see if you were handling this okay…but I was just so tired. Sorry."
"Starsk." Hutch shook his head: amazed that his friend was still thinking about everyone else but himself. "Starsk, I'm okay…How are you doing?"
The quiet question and the sympathy and love evident in Hutch's voice was Starsky's undoing. "Oh Hutch!...Jackson's dead!"
As the tears started to flow in earnest, Hutch gathered his partner in his arms and rubbed his hands across his back trying to soothe him with actions and words: "I'm here, Starsk. I'm here for you. Just let it all out, babe."
Starsky looked into Hutch's eyes and struggled to speak, wanting Hutch to know something that was tormenting him. "Junior s-said…he s-said…he's not Junior anymore because Jackson's dead…Oh, Hutch, I couldn't help him. I-It hurt so much. I felt s-so useless."
Hutch's eyes stung with tears. He'd had a relatively easy day compared with the hell that Starsky had been through. It was time to give some comfort where it was so badly needed. "Starsk, you've been a wonderful friend today. Jackson would be so proud of you for looking after his Mom and Junior and Sammie."
Starsky buried his face in Hutch's shoulder as more tears poured down his face. Hutch held him tighter and whispered, "Grieve for your friend and let me be there for you, babe."
He felt Starsky nod against his shoulder and it felt as if the bond between them grew even stronger: grief and love providing another link in the chain of their friendship. Finally, the comforter was allowed to be comforted himself.