Be Not Afraid

MS:  Starsky's Lady

By:  Brigantine

07/2003

Fandom:  Starsky and Hutch

Rating: Gen

Summary: After Terry dies...what happened?

Author's note:  My thanks to Val, as always, for her keen editing eye and sharp virtual pencil.

Feedback can be sent to:  starsky1@telusplanet.net

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            "...I'm not afraid any more."  Then she was gone, the sweet sighing warmth of her breath lingering for a brief moment on the back of his hand until it, too, disappeared.   For a split second, he thought he could sense her spirit, the thing that made her his Terry, brush past him into forever.  But that was just his imagination, wasn't it?  She'd just closed her eyes again; she couldn't be gone.  She would get through this – they'd find another doctor, somewhere, somehow...until her hand slipped away from his.

            Starsky looked at her peaceful face and then away, to the wall, the floor – anywhere but at the awful, crushing truth.  He tried to deny what he saw until the force of it smashed through his defenses and shattered his world.  Long-suppressed agony rose to flood his eyes with hot tears and steal his breath.  He wanted to talk, to say goodbye, to tell Terry he loved her one more time, but the weight of her death squelched his voice and bowed his head as he finally broke down and let it consume him.

            He wept against the bedspread and Terry for what seemed to be hours when Dr. Quo entered the room.  The diminutive Oriental doctor moved slowly to Starsky's side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

            "David?"  She stepped back a little as Starsky's head shot up, his face wracked with sorrow.  His eyes were full of misery, their normal indigo depths a dark, bitter sapphire.  This part of her job was the hardest one, trying to comfort those left behind.  It was especially hard this time because she'd come to know something about the detective and his partner from her patient and her own experience with them.  In the depths of his damp eyes, Dr. Quo saw his love, his broken heart and his unsuccessful attempt at quickly covering up both.  "I'm so very sorry.  I wish we could have done more."

            Starsky reluctantly got up from the chair with a last glance at Terry's still form.  He closed his eyes, trying to marshal his emotions.  His breath hitched once, he opened his eyes and in a low voice, said, "You did all you could.  You tried..."  He stopped before the hurt could rise to cut off his voice again.

            "I hate to say this at such a time, but we have to take Terry away now.  Hospital rules, I'm sorry."  Dr. Quo felt as miserable as the young man before her looked.

            One more longing glance at Terry proved his undoing.  In a strangled voice, he said, "Yeah...I understand."  The muscles in his throat worked furiously as Starsky sidestepped around the doctor and almost ran to the door.  He froze when he got there, half of him not wanting to leave Terry alone and half of him wanting to run as far and as fast as his legs would carry him.  He turned slightly and nodded to Dr. Quo.  "Thanks."

            She smiled, a very soft, sad smile that reached out to offer some small comfort.  "David, take care.  If you need anything, please call."  He nodded once more, opened the door, and went out.

            Once outside Terry's room, the need to flee overwhelmed him.  He took off towards the elevators in a sprint.   Nearly running Hutch over as he rounded a corner, he really wasn't seeing much at all through the haze of new tears that threatened to spill.

            "Starsk?"  Hutch grabbed for his partner's biceps and held on.  When he got a good look at Starsky's face, he knew.  "Oh, no.  Not..."

            "Hutch...she's...my girl’s..."  Starsky couldn't say it as he felt his world go askew.  Everything seemed upside down.  How to tell Hutch what just happened was beyond him.  His knees suddenly didn't feel like they would support his weight any more.

            Sensing immediately that his partner was very close to falling apart, Hutch decided on the spot to get him out of the too-public hallway somewhere they could be alone.  He pulled Starsky close, wrapping an arm around his waist.  Scanning the corridor, he saw a room marked "Staff Lounge – Private".  The door was ajar; from his vantage point, he saw it was empty.  An unresisting Starsky let him walk them to the open door and almost inside when a nurse came from the opposite direction, intent on the same destination.  Hutch yanked his badge out of his pocket and flipped open the billfold for her inspection.  "Could we use this room for just a few moments?  I promise we won't be long."

            The nurse was about to protest when she glanced at Starsky's stricken face and changed her mind.  She'd seen that look before.  With a nod, she said, "Of course.  Take all the time you need."  On the face of the door was a nameplate holder with a sign that read "Unoccupied".  She slid the thin plastic sign out, flipped it over so that it read "In Use", and put it back.  "Just close the door behind you, Officer – you won't be disturbed."

            Hutch gave her a grateful smile.  "Thanks."  Turning to Starsky, he said softly, "In here, buddy," and led him inside, closing the door behind them.

            Starsky pulled away from him, walked to the window and leaned his head against the casement to look outside.  He closed his eyes tightly, wishing this was all some bad dream that he'd wake up from and everything would be normal again.  The light, warm touch of a hand around the back of his neck told him otherwise.  He turned away from the window to look at Hutch, whose expressive eyes were a precise mirror of his own emotional state.  Too quietly, he said, "You said once it was always hardest on the ones left behind.  Guess I know how that feels now."

            Hutch winced.  He'd made that crack months before when Starsky had been poisoned and faced a 24-hour death sentence.  Guess there isn't a lot of difference, except that we had a chance.  Prudholm took Terry's away.  "Starsk…I don't know what to tell you.  I wish I had the words to make it easier, but I don't."  He sighed heavily, squeezing the back of Starsky's neck gently.

            "It never was easy."  Starsky looked out the window once more.  "She didn't deserve this, Hutch.  If it wasn't for me, she'd…she'd be…alive!"

            When his face twisted in renewed grief, Hutch pulled him by the jacket into his arms and held on tight while the harsh, guttural sobs tore from Starsky's throat.  Hot tears touched his neck and shoulder where Starsky buried his face.  Struggling to keep a rein on his own grief, he rubbed his hands up and down Starsky's back.  "Ssh, ssh, now.  I got you, partner.  Easy, now."  Agonized, shuddered breaths were intermixed with the tears, the power of Starsky's hug increasing as the emotional flood waxed and waned.

            In a few minutes, the extreme release burned down to a few sniffs.  Starsky straightened in Hutch's arms with eyes that were red and swollen and a throat raw from crying.  He ground out, "Oh God, Hutch.  I don't want this any more.  I can't do this any more.  Who's gonna be next because of me – you?"

Hutch stiffened.  This was some twisted echo of their first encounter with George Prudholm.  It made sense that Starsky would shoulder the responsibility again.  This time it was too close, however.  Prudholm had reached into the very heart of Starsky's soul and torn out a huge piece of it.  "No!  You can't blame yourself again, Starsk.  Blame Prudholm and his sick, twisted brain.  We're going to put an end to this so he can't hurt anyone else."

            Starsky shook his head in denial.  "I gotta get out of here.  I need to think, and I need to think alone.  Give me some time?"  He was off-putting Hutch's concern and they both knew it.

            Hutch relented, but only somewhat.  "Okay, buddy.  Where can I find you?"

            Starsky sighed heavily.  "Not gonna give up even a little, are you?"

            A tiny smile lit Hutch's face. "Nope.  Not where you're concerned.  Now – where?"

            The barest twitch of a lopsided smile touched Starsky's mouth.  "You'll figure it out.  Always do."

            Hutch released him reluctantly and nodded.  Starsky knew him well – it took about two seconds to catch the unspoken destination Starsky had in mind.  The Marshall schoolyard would probably be safe enough for the time being.  "I'll check in with Dobey while I'm at home changing."  He was still wearing the blue and gold tracksuit from this afternoon.  "He might have something new."

            "Yeah, okay."  Starsky patted Hutch's arm.  "See you in a bit."  He walked to the door and stopped.  Turning around, he said softly, "I owe you one, Hutch."

            "You don't owe me a thing.  We're partners."  The warm pride underneath the grief on Hutch's face spoke volumes.

            Starsky acknowledged him with a small, sad smile and a lift of his chin.  "When this is over, you and me are gonna get good and drunk.  I think we're due."

            "I believe you're right.  Go on, get out of here.  We'll talk about it later."

            Starsky lifted his hand, wiggled his fingers goodbye and left.  When he was gone and the door closed, Hutch sagged against the wall.  Now what?  What if Dobey doesn't have anything?  What the hell am I going to tell him then?  He bunched up one hand into a fist and smacked it into the other, letting some of the frustration and anger he'd kept hidden from Starsky loose.  Dammit!

            He stood there pondering the situation until there was a tapping at the door.  The sound broke him out of his thoughts and sent Hutch to pull the door open.  With a questioning look, the nurse who let them use the room was there.  "Are you Detective Starsky?" she asked quickly.

            "No, I'm his partner, Hutchinson.  Why?"  A sense of dread suddenly filled him.  This couldn't be good.

            "There's a phone call at the desk for him from a Captain Dobey," she explained.

            "That's our boss.  I'll take it – which way?"  His face grew intense with concern.

            She pointed to the corridor behind her, taken aback at the grim expression that settled over the man's face.  "Down that hall and your first right."

            His features softening for a moment, he took her hand, squeezed it, and said, "Got it.  Thanks again."

            As he double-timed it to the phone, the nurse said to his retreating back, "Any time."

Finito