December 11th- Hope Springs Eternal Part 1 – Tears and Coal by M H E Priest

Starsky drew in a deep breath for the second time in as many minutes. Hutch’s exhausted weight against his chest had him hungry for air yet he refused to rearrange their position on the sofa. When he thought about it, Starsky knew he needed Hutch more than he needed air anyway so moving was out of the question–unless he was near passing out from lack of oxygen. And right now, Hutch’s need was to drape a good portion of his upper body over Starsky’s and to practically bury his face in Starsky’s favorite plaid shirt, which was now soaked with tears, drool, and that unsavory byproduct of crying. Since this had been going on for well over an hour, Hutch was obviously experiencing some measure of comfort.

“Ummm,” came the muffled sound shortly after Starsky resumed stroking the soft, flaxen hair. Starsky interpreted it as contentment on Hutch’s part, if contentment was even an option for Hutch at this point.

“Like that, buddy?”

A sigh and a couple of beats later, Hutch replied, “Yeah.”

Starsky suppressed his own sigh at the dullness of the utterance. Losing Gillian was bad enough, but in such a violent way made the tragedy for Hutch much worse, in part because he was a cop and it had grievously offended those sensibilities. Starsky knew Hutch was blaming himself–he’d failed to protect. And it was chomping away at him.

Hutch, buddy, all I can do is love you. Maybe that’ll help in a small way.

“Starsk?”

“Yeah, Blondie?”

“I’m never gonna fall in love again,” Hutch said between hiccups that were a result of his most recent crying jag.

Starsky felt something begin to shrivel inside him. “Don’t say that, babe. You will.” Oh, please, Hutch, don’t go there. “There’s somebody else out there for you. You just gotta believe that.” Don’t shut out the possibility of me being that somebody. That you could expand your love for me.

Except for hiccups that were slowly fading, an uneasy silence stretched between them.

Finally, Hutch said, “No, Starsk, I can’t even stand the thought of someone I love walking away from me, much less dying. Not any more.”

I’d never walk away from you, Hutch. And I ain’t planning on dying, either. Not for a real long time.

“Just because this happened with, um, her, don’t mean it’ll happen again.”

“I’m serious, partner. We’re cops who go after the worst of the worst and anyone close to us is a target. No more. I couldn’t take it.”

Hutch sounded so positive, so absolute in his resolve not to fall in love again, that Starsky knew what it was that was shrinking within–hope. Hope that Hutch could one day take the next logical step in their relationship. He tried with limited success to keep his body from tensing.

“And because of who we are to each other,” Hutch continued, seemingly unaware of Starsky’s taut body, “we’re targets, too. I know that’s the risk we take being cops and partners, but we just have to deal with it. But if it gets too…”

Starsky shuddered involuntarily at the unspoken implication of what Hutch left unsaid. “What’re you saying, Hutch? You gonna quit us if we get too close? What is too close anyways? What if it just looks like we’re gonna be used against each other?” He hadn’t meant to sound so angry and aggressive, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Starsky, you have an amazing ability at times to read my mind. I couldn’t take losing you, either.”

The bitter determination in Hutch’s tone made hope shrink into a small lump of coal deep in his roiling gut. Not only was the possibility of Hutch loving him in a deeper physical intimacy waning, now there was a probability that Hutch’s misplaced fear would separate them long before anyone or anything else could.

That lump of coal seemed to be turning to ash.

Starsky took a deep breath to settle himself; antagonism wasn’t what Hutch needed right now. With some effort, a mellow firmness infused his words. “You are not gettin’ rid of me, buddy boy. We’re partners and experts at keepin’ each other alive. It was you who saved me from that poison, remember? Nobody else woulda worked that hard to find the antidote. Without you, I wouldn’t be here. And who would protect you as good as me, huh? You really want that? You wanna split me and thee up?”

Another long stretch of silence ensued, this time punctuated by soft, teary whimpers. Starsky felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles while waiting for something more from his emotionally stressed best friend. He kept petting Hutch’s hair, taking care to be gentle and patient.

Some interminable time later, Hutch sniffed hard to clear the accumulated mucus. He cleared his throat before saying softly, “No, I don’t. I can’t see me doing this job with anyone else. I can’t see me trusting anyone like I trust you, and I have to have that. We’re still me and thee, Starsk. Always will be.”

Starsky trembled with relief. He wanted to say something but his throat wasn’t cooperating due to the lump there that he was pretty sure was his heart.

“Love you, Starsk.” Hutch reached up to brush the back of his fingers along Starsky’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.” He lowered his hand to the small part of Starsky’s chest his body wasn’t covering and patted it a few times. He returned his hand to Starsky’s waist.

Starsky’s throat relaxed enough for him to murmur, “Love you, too, Hutch.” More than I can say. Maybe more than you want. Maybe not in the way you want, either. Maybe that’ll change.

Within a couple of minutes, Starsky heard steady, deep breathing and felt the accompanying rise and fall of Hutch’s chest that signaled sleep.

Starsky shifted a little, succeeding in freeing a little more of his chest. He took another breath, as deep as he dared. As he slowly released it, he remembered an article he’d read in some magazine about how diamonds were formed. They were a form of carbon, like coal. Under extreme pressure and time, diamonds, the hardest of any natural material, were made.

Hutch’s declaration of love and intention to keep their partnership together had stopped his tiny chunk of coal from turning into ash. Now maybe it would turn into a diamond, a symbol of their eternal love. We sure as hell got the pressure thing going for us already, and time is on our side as long as we’re breathing.

Starsky, chuckling to himself about his sentimentality, rested his chin on his beloved’s head. Oh, yeah, sure, eternal. Kinda like my own hope diamond.

To Be Continued in Part 2: French Fries & Promises