Chapter 10

'TWA flight 141A to Manchester is now boarding at gate 12' the airport tannoy called out.

'That's us Gordo. Come on, get your bags' Hutch said, setting off on the long walk to the gate.

Starsky picked his flight bag up like an automaton and followed the blond, not looking around, just walking mechanically, plodding, one foot in front of the other. His mind was a comforting blank. It was easy this way. He didn't need to think. Thinking hurt. Connecting with people hurt. If he didn't engage people, didn't make them talk, or talk to them, he couldn't hurt anyone else. He wanted to sleep so that he could see Terry again, but in his dreams all he saw was Ross being pulled away from him shouting I hate you, over and over again. Hutch could think for him. Hutch would look after him. He didn't want to think about meeting the blonde's friend in England. He didn't really want to go to England. He just wanted to go back to Hutch's apartment, curl up and die.

Hutch was more than worried for the brunette. He'd tried the jolly approach, the sympathetic approach and even the downright rude approach, but since the phone call that morning he hadn't been able to get more than one word at a time from his partner. It was as if a shutter had come down in the smaller man's head, closing out everyone and everything. Before coming out of the house he had sneaked a phone call to Sam in England to warn her that his partner was 'tired' and may need some space. Sam had been sympathetic and hadn't pushed for details, much to her credit. She'd just said that the brunette could have as much space as he needed. Hutch even considered booking into a hotel or renting a cottage rather than have to make Starsky face strangers at the moment. One step at a time, buddy. One step at a time. He was so tired now. The strain of looking after the brunette was beginning to tell and his leg was beginning to pain him again. He pushed his own comfort to the back of his mind.

The flight from Los Angeles to Manchester was long and boring. Both tall men, they had managed to fold their legs into the cramped space between the seats. They watched 'All the President's Men' and 'A Star is Born' on the in-flight entertainment, and Hutch read the aircraft magazine from cover to cover whilst Starsky stared out of the small window, lost in his own thoughts. Starsky refused any of the aircraft food, but Hutch couldn't really blame him for that. He tried to get the brunette to drink something, but he only managed a few sips of water before descending into his dark thoughts again.

Hutch tried pressing Starsky for details of the phone call he had had that morning. He was sure that it was that one call that had precipitated Starsky's change in mood. 'What did Dr Michaels say? You said Ross killed herself – did she leave a note?'

Starsky was quiet a moment, gathering himself. He knew his partner well enough to know that he would keep pushing until he got an answer. He knew he was being difficult and that even though the blond had the patience of a saint, sooner or later something would give. And he knew he was close to the edge. He'd never felt like this before – depressed – dare he say suicidal? Something inside him, a little voice of reason, told him he had to start talking, had to let his feelings out, otherwise he'd drown in them. If that happened, he felt he'd never surface again. He drew a deep breath.

'Yeah, she left a note. It was a two edged sword. "To my darling David. I'm sorry. Are you happy now?" What's that supposed to mean Huh?' he scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to scrub some clarity into his mind. 'God, Hutch, she can't even leave me alone now she's d…..dead. What's she trying to say? That I wanted her to die? That I'm happy she's gone? I never wanted that to happen. I thought she really loved me, like I loved her', he stopped, drawing a ragged breath.

Hutch was glad he'd actually got an answer from his partner, although he was unsure what to say. 'Hey, buddy. She was sick, you know that. Look at how she was when you last saw her. You don't think she was in her right mind when she wrote that note, do you? Hell, nobody in their right mind would kill themselves. And you didn't make her do that, she did it all on her own. What you had going there for a while was good. It's not your fault she had problems. You just have to try to remember the good times and concentrate on those. You tried your best'.

'But it wasn't good enough, was it? I couldn't save her from…….' He put his head in his hands. ;I couldn't save any of 'em' he whispered.

Hutch put his arm round his partner's shoulders 'You can't save the world Gordo. Not even you. But your problem is that you feel you have to'.

The admission about the suicide note seemed to have tired the brunette and Hutch was grateful when he eventually saw the dark lashed cover the eyes and Starsky's head leaned back against the seat as he slept. Once he reassured himself that the smaller man was asleep, Hutch allowed himself to rest, never quite sleeping in case Starsky needed him. Finally the Captain announced that they were flying over Belfast and beginning their descent for Manchester.

20 minutes later, the wheels touched down onto the tarmac and the two detectives were welcomed to a bright, sunny and warm Manchester airport.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Once unloaded from the plane and having collected their baggage from the reclaim area, Hutch steered Starsky over to the car rental desk. Giving his name, he asked for the keys to his rental car and was directed to the car park.

Starsky had shown just a little interest when Hutch mentioned cars, and took more interest when Hutch said Starsky would have to drive, as Hutch would be navigating. 'And don't forget they drive on the wrong side of the road' he said.

'Right'.

'No', Hutch said patiently, 'the left'.

'That's what I said – right' the brunette agreed, a slight smile on his face for the first time in a long time.

They walked towards the parked cars and Hutch prowled up and down the lines looking for the registration number he'd been given BTB 448J. He stopped at the requisite car and Starsky let out a howl.

'No Hutch. It's a toy. That's not a car, it's something that needs batteries!' he looked in downright disbelief at the small car.

'That' said Hutch 'is the iconic British car. It's called a Mini. I'm sure you'd love it'.

Starsky regarded it with loathing. 'You'd get six of these in the trunk of the Torino!'

'Boot – they call it a boot, not a trunk!' the blond said, laughing.

'Trunk, boot, whatever' the smaller man said with a defeated tone. 'If I get in that, I'll never get out again'. He stared at the little car mournfully.

Hutch couldn't stand the look on his partner's face any longer, although he was at least relieved that Starsky showed some animation. 'Well, if you really don't like it, it's a good job I got us this one instead'. He stood back and allowed his friend to see the long, low, sleek black car behind him.

This car even managed to cut through the depression the brunette was feeling. He couldn't help admiring it. Although still only half the size of the Torino, it was the epitome of a sports car. He ran his hand appreciatively along the long hood (he must remember to call it a bonnet) and took in the curved back and swept back lines.

'Now that's more like it' he muttered, walking round to admire the vehicle from all angles. He read the legend on the back. 'Jensen Interceptor. Now this I like! Give me the keys' he said, itching to get inside.

Hutch chuckled to himself, knowing he was on to a winner. The only thing that could take his partner's mind off his troubles was a hunk of metal, rubber and electrics. He didn't want to think about the hire charges. He was just happy to see a smile once more on those handsome features. He passed the keys to the brunette and he got in, smelling the new leather upholstery and lovingly stroking the polished wooden steering wheel. He looked at the knobbly stick to his left. 'Hutch, this is wrong! What's this?'

Hutch looked patiently back. 'That, my friend, is called a stick shift. No self-respecting Englishman would be seen in an automatic. You'll love it, when you get the hang of it. Just remember the pedal on the left is the clutch and you press that down every time you want to change gear'.

'I know' the brunette growled. 'I've driven one before…..just not for a long time, OK?'

'Well – enjoy!'