Chapter 19
The brunet staggered out into the night his only focus being to get to the bright lights of the city to score. One good thing about being a cop was that at least he knew where the dealers were and who he needed to see to get his fix. In his overwhelming need for more of the heroin it never crossed his mind to think that by buying a hit would alert the Metro to the fact that he was now hooked, or even that, dressed only in jeans, he had no money for the transaction. The only think that mattered to him was the hit, the sweet rush and the welcome oblivion the drug would provide him with.
Now that his eyes were acclimatised to the dark, Starsky found he could see reasonably well. The moon was out and cast a cold silvery light across the woods, but after his week of confinement the dark still scared the brunet and now each tall tree trunk and spiky bush looked preternaturally dark and forbidding and his heart hammered in his chest, making his head hurt more than ever. Somewhere in the distance an owl screeched and he jumped, stopped and leaned up against a tall tree. A deer barked somewhere closer and that set him running again. Never one to be particularly "woodsy", Starsky was unfamiliar with the great outdoors and in his hyper sensitive state, each noise; each new sensation assailed him afresh and beat at his senses. His legs were still weak and wobbly and he pushed himself from one tree trunk to the next as he made slow progress down the dirt road which led back to town.
The ground was uneven and in the dark it was difficult to see the dips and rises in the road. Starsky didn't see the branch lying across the path till the last moment and tripped, landing with a tooth shattering crash on his knees in the dirt. The pain of the fall was nothing compared to what he'd so far dealt with, but the shock hit him like a physical punch and he remained on his knees, his breath sobbing in his chest. He fell forwards onto his hands and bent his head down, breathing heavily. The small twigs on the floor of the wood dug into the palms of his hands and he leaned back on his heels, wiping them on Hutch's jeans. He looked at them, seeing a large scratch oozing blood which looked black in the moonlight. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and set off again, more slowly but still with determination to get back to the city and the heroin.
Back at the cabin Hutch woke with a start. He had a crick in his neck from sleeping on the sofa and his throat felt hot and dry. He coughed and his head ached. Slowly he got up and eased the kinks from his back, but the headache persisted and now he felt cold and shivery too. The fire still blazed merrily in the hearth and Hutch decided that he hadn't been asleep too long, but had the nagging feeling that he was getting sick. He wiped his hand over is forehead and his palm came away wet with sweat.
Oh shit Hutchinson. You don't have time for this!. You're supposed to be looking after him. Hug's gone back to town. Who's gonna look after you? Take two aspirin and pull yourself together for Gods sake. Go see to your partner and get yourself some coffee.
His self imposed pep talk over, Hutch switched on the stove to boil a kettle full of water and went to the bedroom door. Funny. He thought he'd pulled it completely closed, but the door swung open easily at his touch. He walked into the room. The night light still burned on the stand beside the bed, but the sheet was pushed back and the bed was empty.
Where the hells he gone now? Bathroom? Well that'd be a first. He couldn't walk on his own a while ago. Go check Hutchinson…..and for Gods sake stop talking to yourself!
Hutch walked over to the bathroom, but the door was wide open and the room obviously vacant. Panic started to rise in his chest.
'Starsky?' he called to the empty house. 'Hey Starsk. Where are ya buddy?'
The cabin was comfortable, but not exactly the White House in scale. With 2 bedrooms a bathroom and a kitchen/living room, there were very few places for a grown man to hide and Hutch realised that Starsky was no longer there. Now his panic was in full flood and he looked around for any sign of where the brunet may have gone, although he thought he knew anyway. He went back into the bedroom and checked the wardrobe. Yup, jeans and shoes had gone.
Oh shit Starsk. Don't do this buddy. What did ya have to walk out for huh? I know you're hurtin'. And you Hutchinson. What gives you the right to keep him here? What makes you think that you've got enough expertise to help him through all this? Ya should'a taken him to the hospital. You know that.
Yeah, but then he'd have lost his badge and we couldn't have worked together
So you're gonna chance his life just because of a selfish idea that you still need to work with him. This is Starsky you're talking about! The guy who nearly died! And now you think that on the strength of you going through withdrawal, that you're so damned good that you can cure him? Jeez Hutchinson. Think you're God do ya?
OK ok, well lecture yourself later. What're ya gonna do now?
Go find him, so long as my head stops aching long enough to think.
Sheesh, there ya go again. Thinking of yourself. C'mon get with the plan. Starsky. Missing. Find him!
OK, I need help. Call Huggy and then go get Starsk.
Hutch went to the phone on the wall and dialled the Pits number. He knew it was late, but even in the middle of the night, Huggy would be around. Hutch had never known a man who could go so long without sleep if there was a buck to be made at the end of it. He heard the phone ringing at the other end, then it picked up. In the background he could hear the steady hum of voices. Obviously, the Pits was still busy, even at that hour, whatever the hour was.
'Huggy Bear, don't be square' the laconic voice sounded down the line.
'Hug, its Hutch. Starsky's missing'.
'I'll be there in 45 minutes' Huggy said without a pause. 'D'ya dig where he's gone?'
'No but I got a pretty good idea that he's gonna want to score. He'll head back to the city. Hurry Hug. I appreciate it'.
He put the phone down, snagged his keys from the nail behind the door and set out to his car. It was a measure of just how screwed Starsky was that he'd never even thought to drive instead of walking back to town, but for that Hutch was grateful.
He set the car in motion and switched on the headlights, rolling the car gently down the hill, eyes scanning the woods on either side of the road. Knowing his partner as he did, he didn't think for one minute that Starsky would set off deep into the trees. The brunet hated anything that wasn't covered in a foot of concrete and had a convenience store within walking distance. No Starsky would keep to the road if at all possible. But how long a head start had he got?
Hutch kept his eyes peeled for any signs of movement in the woods. Under any other circumstances, the blond might have enjoyed the night drive. The moon was a perfect disc in the sky, looking big and yellow, surrounded with stars set against a midnight blue velvet backdrop. It was cool, but not cold. A perfect December night. Except that he was looking for his errant partner.
Something flashed in the beam of the headlights a little way ahead and Hutch slowed the car, unsure whether he'd seen anything or not. He stared into the distance and grinned wryly to himself. A hundred yards way, he saw the curly haired cop ducking behind a tree. The fact that the tree was no more than a sapling and hid only about a third of the brunet's body seemed of no consequence to Starsky. And at least Hutch now had him in his sights. He set the car going again and stopped twenty yards away from the "hiding" cop.
Hutch got out of the car, ignoring the pounding in his temples, and walked quietly towards his partner.
'Starsk, what're ya doing?'
Starsky peered around the slim tree. It would have looked comic had the circumstances not been so tragic.
'Get 'way. M'goin' back home'.
'No you're not. You're coming back to the cabin with me' Hutch said calmly, closing the gap between the two of them.
'M'not. I need more stuff 'n' you won't gimme any. M'goin' back an' ya can't stop me' the brunet yelled.
'Starsky listen to yourself. You don't want to do this. You don't want to take more shit. You don't want to be a junkie. Look at all those guys we've hauled back to the Metro in the past. You don't want to turn into one of them' Hutch pleaded.
'I never wanted this in the first place! Never wanted drugs, but Prudholm made me an' its all your fuckin' fault. You didn't come t'get me. You weren't there to stop him'.
The world stopped. Hutch could hear the wings moving on the moth caught in the headlights of his car. He could see every mote of dirt whirling around in the air. He could feel his heart beat in his chest and the blood flow through his veins. The world stopped with the sound of those six words. "You weren't there to stop him".
'Is that what you think? That this is all my fault? That I didn't come back to rescue you? Is that what you really think Starsk?'
Defiant indigo eyes, fuelled by the cravings for more heroin stared back at him. Starsky was breathing heavily and Hutch could see the confusion he was experiencing. He watched his partner ball his fists and struggle with his inner turmoil, and he closed the gap further until he was within touching distance of the smaller man.
'Starsk, is that what you really think? That I'd just not look for you? Could you ever think that?' he asked softly.
'No'
The word was whisper light, floating on the air between them, but still Starsky kept his distance.
'Then what? Is this all my fault? Do you need someone to blame so bad? Coz if that's the case, blame Prudholm. Blame Mickey for getting him the stuff. Blame the faceless guys who bring the shit into the country. But don't blame me. Not me. I love ya, and I'd never do anything to hurt ya'.
The speech took it out of Hutch and he put his hand up to his throbbing temple and closed his eyes, suddenly weary beyond words. He swayed and leaned against the tree feeling as though he were in freefall; as though the world was closing down around him; as though his world would come to an end without his partner.
And then he felt the strong fingers wrap around the back of his neck and pull him forwards until his forehead was on Starsky's shoulder and Starsky's arms were surrounding him.
'I'm sorry Hutch. I know you'd go to the ends of the earth for me. I know that an' I shouldn't'a said those things. But this is so fuckin' hard. It hurts so much an' I think I'm just weak. I can't do this. The feelings are so strong'. He pushed Hutch's head up until he could see his partner's face. 'Help me?' he pleaded.
Hutch smiled. 'Any way I can partner. Just get back in the car huh? We'll go back to the cabin an' you can rest' he looked at the smaller man and grinned. 'And those jeans look terrible on you'.
Starsky grinned back, the first time his handsome face had cracked into a grin since this whole affair had started. 'That's not me makin' 'em look back. It's your lousy taste in clothes'.
Hutch drove them back to the cabin silently. On the way, Starsky slumped against the car door, his eyes closed and his hands once more wrapped protectively around his middle as he fought quietly against the cramps in his stomach. Whatever he did; whichever way he turned, there was no way he could escape them, and by the time the car came to a standstill again, he was once more bathed in sweat.
Hutch came around to the other side of the car and opened the door as Starsky almost fell out. Silently, the blond followed his partner back inside and Starsky staggered towards the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Hutch gave him a few moments, before he pushed the door open.
The brunet was sitting on the edge of the bed, doubled over as he gasped past the pains in his guts. His eyes once again were wild and Hutch braced himself for another period where his partner was once again lost to him. He knew it was the nature of withdrawal that these periods would come and go, and that sometimes the pains and cravings were so bad that they blocked out every other rational thought. But shit it was hard to witness. And, he knew, even harder to live through. He walked over to the bed.
'Hey buddy, can I get you anything?'
Starsky looked up, eyes wide and glaring, fever bright and unblinking. 'Why can't I just have another shot? Just one more huh? Then I'll be ok. Then the pains'll go an' I can get through it….I just….fuck, Hutch. Don't make me plead. I'll be good…..just one more?'
The blond hardened his heart. 'I can't Starsk. I know and you know that….'
'YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT' the smaller man screamed at him. 'You brought me back here and said you'd help. But you're not gonna help are ya? Does it make ya feel good watchin' me hurt? Is that it? Ya get off on it or sumthin? Just lemme go, an' I'll be outa your hair'.
Hutch could feel the panic rising in his chest again. God this was so damned hard! And there was no point in trying to reason with his friend while he was like this. 'You know that's not true' he said as calmly as he could.
'No? Then help me. Or let me help myself. Let me go get some more stuff if you're too chicken to get some for me. Or I can just wait till ya go to sleep again'.
Hutch cracked, his nerves finally frayed sufficiently for him to be galvanised into action. Without really thinking about it, he took his cuffs from his back pocket, caught hold of Starsky's bandaged left wrist and snicked the cuffs on, attaching the other cuff to the metal bed frame. He stood and without a backwards glance walked towards the door.
Starsky had watched the procedure without struggling, shocked into silence by what his partner had done. Now, as he glared at the retreating back he jangled the cuffs against the bed frame.
'Fuck you Hutchinson. You're no better than Prudholm'.
