Strumming My Pain
 

by MysticWhim

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song...

Killing Me Softly
by Roberta Flack
 

Starsky put his signature to the last page from his in-basket.  He had typed all his reports, and was finally ready to head home.  Hutch had left an hour before, needing to run some errands before they started their three day weekend, and was probably already waiting for him at his place.  Now all he had to do was toss the signed reports into Dobey's in-basket, and he was home free.  He could practically taste a nice cold beer right now...

"STARSKY!  MY OFFICE!" Dobey bellowed as he charged past him into the office.

Starsky's heart sank.  "Cap, I'm just headin' out..." he began, only to have his Captain turn on him with a menacing look.  "...But if you need me, Cap, I'm happy to help!" he added with a quick grin.  Inwardly, he sighed.

Dobey entered his office and took a seat.  He tossed the papers he was carrying into a sloppy stack off to the side.  "I know you were just leaving, Starsky, but I need you.  Narco just got a lead on a major deal going down in the Webster building, and they need to run now.  They need all available hands.  We're short, so I've only got you and Bridges and Fitzpatrick to send.  O'Connell and Jellis are already in place – I loaned 'em to Narco last week.  I want you three to head down to meet with Travis and he'll fill you in."

"You want me to call Hutch back in?" Starsky asked.

"No, I don't think that's necessary.  Besides, it would take him too long to get in here.  Go on.  It should be quick and easy, according to Travis."

Starsky winced.  He hated to hear someone say it should be 'quick and easy.'  Every time he heard that phrase, it never was.  "Don't jinx it, Cap," he sighed.

"Sorry," Dobey grinned.  "Get going.  Make me look good."  Then he added, "And be careful."

Starsky gave Dobey a big grin.  "Always, Cap."  He went out to his desk and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, then snagged the phone.  Quickly he dialed his own number, and listened as the extension rang and rang in the empty apartment.  Resignedly, he hung up the phone and dashed out of the squadroom to go meet up with Travis.

~*~

Hutch had arrived at Starsky's place and happily made himself at home.  He popped open a beer, and settled on the couch with his feet up, watching the local news. 

After a while he tired of the news broadcast, so he shut it off and started to look for something to occupy himself until his partner finally returned.  He intended to lose himself in a magazine or book, and sorted through the offerings on Starsky's coffee table.  A small leather bound book caught his attention.  It looked well used, and well loved.

The book had been laid face down and open, as if Starsky had been interrupted while reading it.  Flipping it over, Hutch was surprised to see that it was a blank book, the type used for a journal.  It contained poetry, and was nearly completely full.  The most surprising fact was that the poems were in his partner's handwriting. 

At first he thought perhaps they were poems that Starsky had copied.  He opened up to the beginning of the book, and began to read.  It was quickly evident that he had been mistaken.  The poems were definitely written by Starsky.  It appeared that he had been keeping this journal for quite some time, and the words recalled most of the important happenings in Starsky's life.  The further he progressed in the book, the quality of the writing improved dramatically. 

Hutch was shocked at the intensity of the writing.  Even the earliest works showed a unique word choice, and a depth of feeling.  He simply had trouble comprehending that it was Starsky who had written them.     

Glancing at the clock, he noticed his partner was now hours overdue.  Hutch set aside the book to phone Parker Center.  Speaking with Minnie, he was filled in on Starsky's last minute recruitment by Narco.  He hung up the phone, willing himself not to dwell on the fact that Starsky was out on a big drug bust, and more importantly, without him to cover his back.  Needing a good distraction, Hutch returned to the mysterious journal.

He finished the entire book, smiling at the realization that his partner was a poet.  One poem in particular kept drawing him back.  It was the last poem written, and Hutch felt it was the best of the collection.  It was obvious to him that the poem was about Terry, for it described Starsky's love for her, and his agonizing loss.

No other love could touch
the very heart of me,
For I was born to love you,
no other love could set me free

I've known the calming comfort of
your gentled word and touch,
Your soothing whisper in my ear;
A tender love I need so much

I felt a safety in your arms,
Warm within your sweetest care.
You light the world with hopeful eyes
I'm lost without you there

You give your faith and empathy
To souls Life cast aside,
You give a selfless love and hope;
Your faith becomes their guide

You've been a teacher unto me
By example, and by deed,
Showed how to change the world itself,
Helping others when in need

You are the single reason
I'm a better man today.
With you I learned the courage
To follow my own way.

But I am the foolish jester,
Entertaining a cruel Fate.
A lover needing desperately;
The loss and misery so great

My arms ache to hold you close,
My lips hunger for your kiss,
To revel in your warmest passion;
But I'm denied your giving bliss

But your beauty lit the shadowed night,
Your gentleness warmed my heart,
You're goodness lives in this man you've touched,
Because of this, we'll never be apart.

Hutch was deeply moved by the words, and shared his friend's pain.  The memories of Terry came flooding back to him, as did the grief, undiminished by years.  Not only had Starsky lost the love of his life, but Hutch had lost a dear friend.

Starsky's words comforted Hutch, who read them again with a sad smile.  He too felt that Terry would always live in his heart, and that he was better person for having known her. 

As he re-read the poem, he felt a certain melody call to him.  An inspiration took root, and he grabbed a pen.  He bracketed the first stanza, and wrote "refrain" beside it.  He began to make small notations above the words on the page. 

He worked on his notes for a long while, then went in search of Starsky's guitar.  Finding it propped in the back of his bedroom closet, Hutch retrieved it.  He tuned the instrument, then tried out the sequence of chords he had been noting within the margins of Starsky's poem.  He continued to work on the song that had been formulating on paper.

~*~

Starsky dragged himself through the front door of his apartment.  The bust had not gone as 'quick and easy' as Travis predicted.  In fact, it turned out to be a set up, and the police had walked straight into a firefight.  The shooting was intense, and O'Connell had been hit.  His wounds were not serious, but Starsky had only found that out on the way home.  The news had been an enormous relief, but did not eradicate the terrible stress from the rest of the evening.  In the end, though, they had made eleven arrests, with five of the bad guys taken out in black bags.  O'Connell was the only injury on their side, and he was going to be fine.  Now all Starsky wanted to do was have that promised beer, and order a nice big pizza with the works.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of a pizza already waiting.  Starsky gave his first real smile of the night.  Then he heard the guitar.  Delighted that Hutch was playing again, he hung up his jacket and holster, and quietly approached the couch. 

Hutch looked up from his playing with concern.  "How'd it go?" he asked.

"Don't ask.  O'Connell got hit, but he's gonna be okay.  The whole thing was a fuck up from the get go."  Then he waved at the guitar.  "Don't stop.  That was good.  What was it?"

"I've been writing," Hutch grinned.  "Somethin' new."

Starsky was about to reach down for the closed pizza box, when something caught his eye.  He saw his journal.  Open.  In front of Hutch.   A prickle of dread spread through his skin.  He felt naked, exposed.

Sinking to his knees, he slowly reached out and placed his hand upon the open book, covering the words written there as if he could cover the vulnerability he felt.  His heart was pounding and his stomach twisted into knots.   Hutch's handwriting, woven through his own, confirmed the greatest of his fears.

Hutch had started to play a song intro, and had not seen the stricken look on his friend's face.  "I saw your poems, Starsk.  I thought they were really good.  Especially the last one.  I thought it would make wonderful song lyrics, and I've been working on a melody for it.  I want to play this for you."  He ran through the intro once again, then began to sing.

No other love could touch
the very heart of me,
For I was born to love you,
no other love could set me free...

Starsky turned to face his friend, and listened to him bring his own words to life.  The music was lovely, and suited his lyrics well, but to hear his private thoughts and emotions being sung, and sung by Hutch, was overwhelming.  Halfway through the song, he was unable to bear it any longer, and got up from his seat on the floor.  Without a word, he grabbed his jacket from the closet and walked to the door, hoping to make it out before he completely lost control.

Hutch was on his feet in a flash.  "Starsk, wait!"  He grabbed Starsky's arm and quickly apologized.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't think.  Putting your poem about Terry into a song must have stirred up all those old memories.  I'm sorry, buddy.  I didn't mean to hurt you."

Without turning around, Starsky slowly pulled his arm from Hutch's grasp.  His eyes were tightly shut, his head bowed.  "That poem wasn't about Terry, Hutch."  He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  "It was about you."  He stepped through the threshold and was gone without a backward glance.

The words had hit Hutch like a slap.  He was stunned.  Disbelieving, he rushed back to the book and read the poem again.  And again...

Soon he dropped the book, unable to see through the blurriness in his eyes.

~*~

After discovering that the Torino was still parked beside his own car, Hutch wandered down to the park in hopes of finding Starsky.  He found him sitting on a park bench, staring off at something in the distance.  His hands were jammed into his coat pockets, his jaw tightly clenched shut.  His whole body was tense, closed, as if it took enormous control just to sit.

Hutch sat down quietly next to his friend.  Starsky never took his eyes off of whatever held his gaze.  The two men sat silently for a moment, then Hutch looked over at Starsky and gently spoke, "Starsky, I'm sorry I misread your poem."

"'S 'kay."  His voice was as tight as the rest of his body.

In a voice soft as velvet, Hutch said soothingly, "I love the poem.  It's beautiful.  I read it again.  Several times, actually.  I'm really touched.  Thank you."

Starsky's throat constricted.  Unable to speak, he just gave a short nod.

"I'm sorry I hurt you.  I wouldn't have done that with the song, had I known.  I had just assumed the poem was about Terry..."

"I said it's okay, Hutch," Starsky cut him off.  "And I'm glad you did that.  The song's nice.  It just sort of tore my guts out to hear you singing it, ya know?"  Then he quickly added, "It's not your fault.  You didn't know."

Hutch nodded.  "Yeah, I didn't know."  Then he leaned closer to Starsky and asked, "Why didn't I know, Starsky?"

Starsky continued to stare out at nothing in particular, his jaw clenched shut.  Feeling Hutch's eyes upon him, he turned away.

"Starsk?  Are you ashamed of the way you feel about me?"

Starsky's head snapped back.  He gave Hutch a sideways glance, studying his expression.  With a defiant glint in his eyes, he firmly replied, "No."

"So why didn't I know you were in love with me?"

"You know the answer to that," he answered in the hard voice.  "It doesn't matter.  It wouldn't change anything."

"You're wrong, Starsky.  I needed to know this.  It does matter.  It changes everything."

Alarmed, Starsky turned to face Hutch, pulling his hands from his pockets.  There was fear in his eyes.  Losing Hutch's friendship would devastate him.

Hutch reached out and laid a hand atop of Starsky's.  He gave a small reassuring squeeze.  "After you left, and I read your poem again, I realized something..." he glanced out to the distance as Starsky had.   "I've never known this kind of love.  I have searched my whole life to find a love like this.  No one's ever loved me like you do, so unconditionally.  No one sees me the way you do, had such faith in me.  I needed to know this!"  His voice cracked on the last. 

Hutch's eyes were shining with unshed tears as he turned them on his friend.  "I never expected to find true love in this form, with you.  But now that I've found it, I'm not letting go!"  To emphasize his point, he laced his fingers with Starsky's, hanging on tightly.

Bewildered, Starsky looked at their entwined hands, then looked to Hutch, speechless.

"Starsky, there is a whole side of you that I don't know.  I don't know the part of you that writes love poems.  I don't know the part of you that wants me, passionately.  I don't know the part of you that loves me so deeply.  I want to know that side of you."

Starsky dropped his head.  The tenseness left his body, as he gave up the fight to remain controlled, and focused on trying to comprehend what was happening.  He raised his face to Hutch, full of pain and vulnerability.  "Hutch?" he choked out.  "I don' wanna misunderstand..."

Hutch smiled a small embarrassed smile.  "God, I am so nervous," he admitted with a little chuckle.  He grabbed Starsky gently by the back of the neck and pulled him forward.  He lightly kissed his lips, gently, tentatively, an action and a territory unfamiliar to them both.  He said softly, "I want to know that side of you." He kissed him more boldly, then touched his tongue lightly to Starsky's lips.  Starsky opened to the invitation, their tongues meeting in a delicate dance.  A fire spread through each of them, igniting a passion uncommon to them both.  When the kiss ended, breathlessly Hutch whispered against Starsky's lips, "I want to know all of you.  I want you.  I need the kind of love you have for me."

With a longing groan, Starsky wrapped his arms securely around his partner, their bodies pressed firmly together.  He whispered into Hutch's ear, "I was born to love you."

 Hutch held him tight.  "I love you, too," he whispered back.  "And I'm never letting you go."

The End