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What Might Have Been

By

Cheryl T

   Starsky let the phone ring, knowing full well that the chances of Hutch answering were non-existent. Hutch was hurting, and when Hutch hurt he withdrew. Starsky wasn’t sure which upset Hutch more--the fact the Gillian was dead or the reason she was dead. The truth about Gillian had been devastating to Hutch. There certainly was no easy way to tell your best friend that the woman he loved was a hooker. Especially when she’s lying dead on the floor by your feet.

   Hanging up the phone, Starsky grabbed his keys. It had been four days since Gillian’s funeral, and he had respected Hutch’s request for some time alone. But enough is enough. I have to know he’s okay.

   Starsky didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when he pulled up outside of Hutch’s building and Hutch’s car was gone. It raised too many questions. Questions I don’t have answers for. How long had he been gone? Where is he? Is he coming to terms with his anger and grief and going on with his normal daily routine? Or is he somewhere wallowing in his grief and blaming not only himself but me as well?

   Curiosity getting the better of him, Starsky decided to use his key and take a quick look around Hutch’s apartment. Walking through the rooms, Starsky began feeling uneasy. There were no signs of Hutch having been home for very long. No dirty dishes, and the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in. A quick look in the bathroom showed it to be neat and tidy. I know Hutch isn’t this neat. I could tell if he’d been here for more than a few minutes.

   Flopping down on the couch, Starsky looked around, hoping to find some clue to what was going on with his partner. I know you’re a grown man, Hutch, but you’re worrying me right now. Where are you? Where do I start looking?

   The silence of Hutch’s apartment began to get to Starsky. He had never been good at sitting and doing nothing--especially when it came to his partner’s well being. A beer at Huggy’s sounds real good. And who knows, maybe Hutch will show up there.

********

   "Where in the hell have you been?" Huggy practically barked out the words.

   "What do you mean where have I been? I was home until about an hour ago, trying to get Hutch on the phone. Then I went to Hutch’s."

   "He wasn’t there, was he?"

   "No. How’d you know that? Do you know where he is?"

   "I know that up until an hour ago, he was sitting in the corner over there, drowning his sorrows in the hard stuff."

   "So why didn’t you call me? " Starsky demanded.

   "Why do you think I asked where you’ve been? I tried calling you a bunch of times and always got a busy signal. Then later, there was no answer."

   "Okay, okay. so where did Hutch go?"

   "Well, our drunken blond friend wouldn’t let me call him a cab. He didn’t even want me calling you. He took off. I have no idea where he went."

   "Great. Just great. I better start looking for my partner."

   As he opened the door, Starsky stopped and turned back to look at his friend. "Oh, thanks, Huggy."

   "Yeah, yeah. just go find our fair-haired friend and get him home safely."

********

   Having no clue where a drunk and grieving Hutch would go, Starsky sat in the Torino debating what his next move should be. This wasn’t normal behavior for Hutch. Not that Hutch didn’t get drunk now and then. Hell, they both did that from time to time. But Hutch didn’t normally set out to get drunk. It wasn’t his usual behavior to try and forget his problems with alcohol.

   Starting with the obvious choices, he thought Hutch might be at the park he liked to go to when he needed to think, or the beach he loved so much. Starsky slowly pulled away from Huggy’s.

   His search of Hutch’s favorite spots in the park and at the beach turned up nothing. No sign of Hutch or his beat-up car. Once again, Hutch’s car wasn’t there as Starsky pulled up in front of his friend’s apartment. Okay, now what? Now I wait.

   The wait wasn’t long. Hutch’s arrival was announced by the clatter of trash cans that his already battered Ford sent flying, as he maneuvered into a parking space several feet ahead of Starsky. Starsky waited a few seconds for Hutch to get out of his car. But nothing happened. There was no sign of the blond.

   Getting out of the Torino, Starsky walked over to Hutch’s car and found his partner nearly passed out, slumped over the steering wheel. You’re lucky you got home in one piece, you damn fool.

   Grabbing hold of one of the limp arms, Starsky managed to pull the dead weight out of the car and onto his feet. Keeping the drunk blond on his feet was the problem. "Come on, Hutch, help me out here."

   "Can’t…help." Hutch’s words were slurred. "drunk…"

   "Yeah, I can see that." Starsky kicked the car door shut with his foot and slung his arm around Hutch’s shoulder, with his other arm around his waist.

   "So you want to tell me why you’re drunk?" Starsky carefully navigated the stairs up to Hutch’s apartment.

   "I was…drinking," was the slurred response.

   "Yeah, great detective that I am, I had that all figured out already." Keeping a firm grip on Hutch, Starsky opened the door. Once he had him deposited safely on the couch, he closed the door.

   "Okay, so why were you drinking?" Leaving Hutch sprawled on the couch, Starsky put on a pot of coffee. "Talk to me, Hutch."

   "She’s dead. I loved her and she’s dead." He was on his feet and stumbling toward Starsky. "And you…you tried to pay her to leave. Why…why would you do that? I loved her."

   Starsky could tell that the quiet drunk he helped into the apartment was turning into an angry drunk. "Hutch, maybe we should wait and talk about this tomorrow when you’re feeling better."

   "Feeling better?" Hutch lurched in a menacing manner toward Starsky. "Do you think I’m going to feel any better tomorrow? Why? Gillian will still be dead tomorrow. And the fact that you tried to pay her off won’t have changed."

   "I know that, Hutch. I just meant that tomorrow, when you’re sober, would be a better time to talk. I need to explain a few things to you." Starsky’s tone was meant to soothe and calm, but it had the exact opposite effect on his partner.

   "Sober or drunk it doesn’t matter; she’s still dead. I don’t think we have much to talk about, anyway." Attempting to get back to the couch, Hutch swayed and then stumbled.

   Starsky watched in horror as if almost in slow motion, Hutch fell and his head struck the table with a sickening thud. The sound seemed to echo through the room.

   "Hutch…Hutch, you okay?" Starsky knelt down and carefully rolled Hutch over, so he could get a look at his head. Hutch groaned and pulled away.

   "Hutch, you’re bleeding." Starsky could see what looked like a rather large gash in Hutch’s forehead. "Lie still and let me get a wet towel and clean you up, so I can see how bad it is."

   While Starsky was retrieving the towel, Hutch, with great effort, had gotten to his knees and was looking around as if stunned.

   Starsky returned with a damp towel. "Hey, I told you to stay still."

   "What happened?"

   "You tripped and fell, that’s what happened. Let me take a look at the cut on your head. It’s bleeding pretty good; you might need stitches." Starsky began wiping gently at the gash.

   "No. I don’t need any stitches. I just need to be left alone." Hutch reached up and gingerly touched the cut on his forehead. "What happened?"

   Starsky got Hutch to his feet and guided him back to the couch. "Remember, you fell? Now stay put while I get the first aid kit."

   When Starsky returned, Hutch didn’t put up any more of an argument. He lay quietly, while Starsky wiped off the gash and cleaned it out. "You know, this cut’s deep enough; it really could use a couple of stitches."

   "No. I’ll be fine." The anger seemed to have left, and in its place was defeat. "Go home, Starsk. I just want to be left alone."

   Starsky finished bandaging the cut on Hutch’s forehead, and then gently ruffled the fine strands of blond hair. "I don’t think you should be alone right now. What if you have a concussion or something?"

   "I don’t have a concussion. I bumped my damn head. I’ll live." Hutch sat up, his anger apparently returning. Getting to his feet, he pointed at the door. "Go home."

   Starsky watched as Hutch staggered toward his bedroom without a backward look. I know you’re upset with me right now, and I even understand it. But I’m not leaving you alone. There’s gonna come a time real soon that you’re going to need me, and I’m going to be right here waiting.

   After pouring a cup of coffee and picking up a magazine, Starsky made himself comfortable. After reading the magazine from cover to cover and downing two cups of coffee, he silently congratulated himself on resisting the temptation to check on his partner. It hadn’t been easy.

   Taking care of Hutch just came naturally. When Hutch was hurting, Starsky had to be there and at least attempting to somehow ease the pain. But this time the pain was different, and Starsky had indirectly contributed to the pain. I tried to keep him from being hurt. But it didn’t work. And if I’m honest with myself, I know it wasn’t the right thing to do. We’ve always been up front and honest with each other. This shouldn’t have been any different. But I just couldn’t find the words to tell him about her. I only hope I can find the words that will help ease his pain when he’s ready.

   The sounds of Hutch vomiting brought Starsky to his feet. He stopped himself from rushing into the bathroom, forcing himself to stand quietly just outside the door. But the agonizing retching and gagging sounds coming from behind the door was more than he could take. Starsky entered the bathroom and silently wet a towel. He knelt next to his partner and began wiping at the beads of perspiration on Hutch’s face.

   "Starsky, I really don’t need you to hold my hand while I puke my guts out." Hutch’s voice came out weak and raspy sounding, as he slumped against the wall next to the toilet.

   "I know that. But I’m not exactly holding your hand either. Just trying to make things a little easier for you."

   "Is that what you were trying to do when you offered to pay Gillian to leave town? Did you think her leaving would make things easier for me? I’m not a child; you should’ve told me the truth." Hutch closed his eyes, and a tear slowly slid down his cheek. "God, it hurts, Starsk."

   Starsky moved next to his friend and gently wiped the tear away. " I know, buddy, I know it hurts. I’m sorry if I made your pain worse. I was trying to spare you from being hurt, but I realize now I just made things worse."

   "I just need to be by myself, Starsk. Go on, get out of here."

   "If you really don't want me here, I’ll respect that. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect it." Starsky got to his feet and looked down at his partner. "You sure you want me to leave?"

   Hutch nodded, the look on his face nearly causing Starsky to change his mind and stay. Starsky couldn’t remember a time when Hutch had looked so despondent and heartsick. "Okay, then, I’m out'a here. Call me if you need anything." Not daring to turn and look back, Starsky left the bathroom.

   Standing in the middle of Hutch’s living room, Starsky would have liked nothing better than to sit down and cry. Had it really only been days ago his partner had been so happy? Totally and completely in love, Hutch had truly been a sight to behold--a constant smile plastered on his face and happier than Starsky ever remembered seeing him. Why couldn’t it have lasted? Hutch deserved to be happy, and he has so much love to give. Why in the hell couldn’t it have lasted? If only she hadn’t worked for Grossman.

   Starsky, with his mind made up that he would return shortly, grabbed the jacket he’d tossed onto the couch after getting Hutch up the stairs, and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. But before he could get to the door, he was stopped by the sound of a voice behind him.

   "Don’t go." Hutch quietly pleaded.

   Tossing both his jacket and keys back onto the couch, Starsky turned, and Hutch half stumbled, half fell into Starsky’s waiting arms. The second Starsky’s arms closed around his friend, it was as if a damn had broken. For a while, only the sound of Hutch’s sobs filled the apartment. Without releasing his hold on his partner, Starsky managed to get them seated on the couch. Starsky continued to hold Hutch close, as the tears flowed freely. "That’s it, buddy, get it out. Get it all out." Starsky stroked the soft blond hair in an attempt to give some kind of comfort.

   Eventually, Hutch's crying had ceased and was replaced by soft sniffling sounds. Starsky eased his arms from around Hutch and settled him back against the couch. "I’ll be right back."

   Starsky returned with a glass of water, some aspirin, and a warm washcloth. "Here, take these." Starsky handed the glass to Hutch, who obediently took a sip of the water and swallowed the pills. Setting the glass down, Starsky resumed his place on the couch and began lightly wiping the swollen, tear-stained face. Minute’s later, Hutch’s breathing had evened out and he was fast asleep. Starsky quietly got up and covered the sleeping blond with a blanket. Moving to a chair, he silently kept watch over his friend.

   "You know what hurts the most?" Thinking out loud, Hutch broke the quiet of the apartment.

   "What?" Starsky asked, startled to find Hutch awake. He’s ready to talk.

   "What might have been--that’s what hurts the most. I keep thinking of how good things might have been if Gillian hadn’t been killed. I think I loved her more than I’ve ever loved any woman." Hutch sighed deeply. "If I’d only known the truth, maybe…"

   "Maybe what?"

   "Maybe I could have protected her from Grossman. Maybe she’d still be alive." Hutch sat up, rubbing at his still puffy eyes. "Maybe we could still have had a future together."

   "You really think the two of you could have had a future together?" Starsky moved over to sit next to Hutch. "Even knowing what you now know?"

   Thinking long and hard before answering, Hutch slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think so. We were so happy, Starsky. I think I would have done almost anything to keep that feeling of happiness. She accepted me just as I was; she never tried to change me. She really cared about me. If you really love someone, it’s easier to forgive." Hutch wiped at a tear that was making its way down his cheek. "You know, for the first time since Vanessa, I actually thought I might like to have a couple of kids. Crazy, huh?"

   The look on Hutch’s face as he said those words caused tears to well up in Starsky’s eyes. "Not crazy at all, Hutch."

   "Starsk, if I could have accepted Gillian’s past as a prostitute, how would you have felt about it?"

   "I would’ve supported you and Gillian in whatever you wanted to do. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. You’re my best friend, I want you to be happy."

   "Then why didn’t you tell me about Gillian? Didn’t you think I had a right to know? Why, Starsk, why did you try to pay her off?"

   "Hutch, you have every right to be mad at me. Thinking about it now, I can see how wrong I was. But damn it, at the time all I could think about was protecting you. I just didn’t want to see you get hurt." Starsky moved away from Hutch and got to his feet. "I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way things turned out."

   Starsky walked away and then turned, and was once again standing in front of Hutch. "Believe me, if I had it to do over, buddy, I would come to you immediately and tell you what I knew. I guess I was just thinking with my heart and not my head. I understand why you’re mad at me. I just couldn’t think of an easy way to break it to you."

   Hutch lay back down on the couch and closed his eyes. Despite the pain he was feeling, he knew he was one lucky guy. To have been loved by both Gillian and Starsky was more than anyone could ever hope for. If I think with my head, I realize Starsky was only doing what he thought was best for me--what I probably would have done if things had been reversed. Gillian’s gone, but Starsky’s still here.

   "Starsk, I know you were only doing what you thought was best for me. Thinking with your heart is one of your best qualities." Hutch smiled for the first time in days. "I don’t mean to take my anger and grief out on you." The smile disappeared. "but it hurts so damn much. Why didn’t she tell me? I could have helped her. I could have gotten her away from Grossman."

   "Hutch, she was going to tell you. I really believe that. She really loved you. She didn’t take my money; that has to tell you something." Starsky lifted up Hutch’s legs and sat down on the couch, allowing Hutch’s legs to lie across him.

   "It could have worked, Starsk. I know it. If only we could’ve had the chance."

   "I know, buddy." Starsky patted Hutch’s legs. "I know you don’t think so now, but someday you’ll have that chance again. A chance for marriage and kids with someone you love."

   "That’s the furthest thing from my mind right now. To be honest, I don’t think it’s anything I’ll be thinking about anytime soon."

   "Yeah, I know." Starsky became quiet remembering the brutal murder of his ex girlfriend, Helen. "Even though they had ended their relationship, her death had still hit him hard. Like Hutch, he had been plagued by thoughts of what might have been.

   "You thinking about Helen?" Hutch also could clearly remember how devastating Helen’s death had been for his partner. He now fully realized he hadn’t had any real idea of what Starsky was feeling. He remembered, too, how helpless he had been as he watched Starsky try to deal with the immense grief. Now, suddenly, the roles were reversed.

   "Yeah, a little. We make a great team, huh?" Starsky found himself wiping a tear from his eye.

   "Yeah, we do. And if it weren't for this great team of ours, I know I’d never make it."

   "So does that mean I’m forgiven?" Starsky hopefully looked at his partner. He wanted more than anything for Hutch to forgive him for not telling him about Gillian, and the stupid stunt of trying to send her packing. I just want him to trust me again and let me be there for him now.

   "Nothing to forgive, Starsk. I know you did what you thought was right. You didn’t see any other acceptable choice. I probably would’ve done the same thing. I should probably be asking you for forgiveness. I’m really sorry about the way I’ve been acting."

   "It’s okay, Hutch. I know what you’re going through, and, as far as I’m concerned, you can act any way you want. I’m pretty tough, you know." Starsky smiled, as he struggled to keep the welling tears from sliding down his face. It hurt to see Hutch hurting. But they were talking now, and Starsky knew things were going to be okay.

   "Let me guess. that’s what partners are for?" Hutch returned Starsky’s smile with a feeble one of his own.

   "You know it." Starsky was glad to see the weak attempt at a smile. "You’ll make it through this, partner; I’ll see to it."

   "I’m sure you will." Hutch closed his eyes, determined to fight the spinning going on in his head. "I’m just not sure I’m going to survive this hangover."

   "Being the kind and considerate partner that I am, I’ll even nurse you through your hangover."

   Opening his eyes, Hutch found himself looking into the concerned but smiling eyes of his partner. This time Hutch’s whole face spread into a smile. "Thanks. Thanks for everything."

   "Anytime, partner, anytime. How about some more aspirin and maybe a cup of coffee? And then maybe you should try and get some more sleep."

   "Sure, Starsk."

   "Oh, and, Hutch, can I give you just a little bit of advice?"

   Touched by the concern on Starsky’s face, Hutch nodded. "sure, I need all the help I can get."

   Starsky was quiet for a few seconds, hoping he wasn’t about to upset his partner again.

   "Starsk?"

   "All, I want to say is that you should be careful not to spend too much time dwelling on what might have been with Gillian. Don’t live in the past for too long, huh?"

   "And you think that’s what I’d do?"

   "Yep, but I don’t plan on letting you do that for too long. I mean, you know…that’s what partners are for."

   "So I’ve been told." Hutch grinned. "Thanks for being my partner."

   "Like anyone else wants the job?" Starsky laughed.

THE END