NS: David and His Jonathan-Part 5

Over slightly more than a week, Starsky’s face became drawn, his eyes red and tired with dark circles beneath them. The irrepressible grin faded into non-existence, and he began dozing at inappropriate times – such as during a debriefing with Dobey. He was short and surly with those around him, including his partner. And he began to show a lack of detail not only in his personal attire, but more importantly at work.

The last few reports Starsky had written either had missing details, wrong information, or they rambled on with nonsensical details that had no place in their reports. Hutch found himself covering for his partner by reviewing them on the sly before they got to Captain Dobey for his approval.

The one he held in his hand was one of the worst. Starsky had misidentified a crucial witness to an assault and battery, as well as transposed the address numbers of another potential witness. It was time to talk to his partner and figure out what was going on beneath those curls.

Not wanting to confront his partner in front of their co-workers and embarrass him, Hutch waited until they were in Starsky’s car.

“Starsk, we’ve gotta have a talk.”

“Now what?” Starsky sighed melodramatically.

“Now we talk about what’s bothering you.”

Squinting his eyes in frustration, Starsky mumbled, “Nothin’ botherin’ me. I’m fine.”

“Starsky, don’t bother lying. You know you’re terrible at it…”

“Except undercover. Yeah, I know. I’ve heard this speech before.”

“You’re not sleeping well. So something’s got to be on your mind.” Hutch’s eyes softened in worry, which in turn bugged Starsky to no end, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I told you Hutch, there’s nothing to be concerned about. So I’m not sleeping well. That don’t mean anything.”

“It does when it starts affecting your work.”

Starsky jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled the car to the curb. Putting the transmission in park, his dark blue eyes fared in anger at Hutch’s accusation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Hutchinson?” he scowled. “Are you accusing me of not doing my job? When have I ever not held up my half of this partnership?”

Looking directly into the angry, tired, face, Hutch quietly said, “Starsky you wrote Carmen Rodrigez’s name as Armenia Rodriguez on the Moamin assault report, as well as transposed 5212 Fulton to 2512.”

A flicker of alarm played in those dark eyes, replaced quickly by anger again while Starsky waited for Hutch to continue.

“You’re irritable all the time, and you dozed off in front of Dobey yesterday.” Hutch waved his hand at his partner. “Look at you! Have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“If you gotta problem with something, buddy-boy, you better spit it out soon, ’cause I’m not gonna sit here and let you ream me like this.”

Turning forward to look out the front window, Hutch sighed. “Starsky I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

“Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it then,” the other interrupted.

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, even though he was starting to get annoyed as well, Hutch continued. “I’m worried you’re going to make a fatal mistake on the street in the condition your in. I’m worried about you, Starsk.”

“Yeah, well maybe it’s you that’s bothering me.”

Startled, Hutch jerked his head to the left, offering Starsky a stunned, exposed look, then masked his emotions and turned his head to look out the passenger window, but not before Starsky had seen the hurt.

Wanting to take the words back, but too bullheaded to admit he’d gone too far, Starsky pulled the Torino back into traffic.

They drove silently for several minutes, the tension in the car thick like a quilt. One almost couldn’t breathe with the heaviness in the air.

Down street, a large industrial truck turned right and began driving toward them on the opposite side of the road.

Starsky’s eyes drifted shut and without warning the Torino started to pull left of center.

“STARSKY! WATCH IT!”

His eyes snapping open, Starsky turned to yell at Hutch for startling him. “Goddamn it Hutch…” as the oncoming truck bore down on the Torino.

“STARSKY! THE TRUCK!”

Whipping his head forward, Starsky yanked the wheel right as the truck blared its deep horn. He put the brakes on in the middle of the road, stopping traffic, his hands shaking at the near miss.

Sitting quietly amidst the piercing noise of horns from the vehicles behind them, the two detectives gathered their frayed nerves before Starsky had the presence of mind to pull the Torino to the side of the road.

“Okay.” He said quietly, staring out the front window.

Hutch shook his head to clear it. “Huh?”

“Okay, Hutch. I’ll go talk to Mitchell.”

“It’s for your own good, babe. For us.” Hutch wanted to make sure Starsky understood that no-one would think any less of him for seeing the department psychiatrist. Especially him. “I love you.” He leaned over and petted Starsky’s face with the back of his hand.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Starsky nodded briefly. “Yeah. I guess you were right. But that’s the only reason I’m going – for us. To find out why I’m having problems sleeping.”

“That’s what Mitchell will help you determine, babe.”

Putting the car in park, Starsky opened his door to get out. “You’re driving the rest of the day. I can’t take the chance of gettin’ us killed.”


*****


Once back at the precinct, Starsky made good on his promise and set up an appointment for the following day to see Dr. Mitchell, the department psychiatrist who was staffed onsite to help cops quickly if needed.

Hutch felt Starsky needed a good night of sleep without any distractions, so he forced his lover to go home alone. As hoped, Starsky finally got a good night’s rest, and though the circles under his eyes weren’t erased, there was more of a spring in Starsky’s step when he bounded through the double doors the next morning. Just knowing that Starsky got a good night’s rest and was going to talk to someone professional was enough to relax Hutch, and he let go his worrying during the workday.

The appointment with Dr. Mitchell was at 4:00, and Starsky had cleared it with Captain Dobey, who was heartily glad his curly haired detective was getting some help. Agreeing to meet Hutch back at Venice Place later that evening, Starsky trudged off to the other side of the building to meet with Dr. Mitchell, leaving Hutch to finish up their paperwork.

Hutch had made Starsky’s favorite meal and set up the table in the greenhouse. Just as he finished laying out the table, he heard the front door click shut. Stepping into the kitchen, he watched as Starsky hung up his spring jacket and took off his holster, hanging it on the closet doorknob. Hutch promised himself he wasn’t going to get into Starsky’s face about his appointment this afternoon with Dr. Mitchell, though he had to tell himself that over and over.

“Dinner ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hutch turned half-way and gestured toward the patio. “I set up the table outside if that’s okay with you.”

“Sounds good. Let me wash up.”

While Starsky got cleaned up, Hutch served up the meal. They ate in relative silence, Hutch still anxious to know how his meeting with Dr. Mitchell went. However, Starsky didn’t appear to be too upset, so he wasn’t worried…just curious. But Starsky didn’t seem to want to be forthcoming.

Finally, Hutch had to ask, it was driving him up a tree not knowing. “So, uh, how’d it go? Do you want to talk about it?”

Starsky pushed away his emptied plate and shrugged. “Okay. It was no big deal. I guess you could say I wasn’t very open.”

“Why not? What’d you talk about? That is, if you’re allowed to tell me?”

“If I can’t share with you, what’s the point.” He sighed. “I just told her I haven’t been sleeping and I was worried that I was gonna get my partner or someone else hurt.”

“Did you tell her about the dreams?”

Starsky stood up in frustration and started gathering the dishes. “I told you, Hutch, I don’t remember those dreams!” He stalked into the kitchen and set the dishes in the sink. Leaning down with both hands on the edge, he gathered himself. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s not your fault I’m a fucking nutcase.”

Pushing a glass of wine into Starsky’s hands, Hutch led him over to the couch and waited for Starsky to continue.

He didn’t have long to wait, as Starsky took a drink and continued. “Yeah, I told her I was having some dreams, but that I didn’t remember them. I told her I kept talking about someone I didn’t know and that I was speaking weird, just like you said.”

“What she say?”

“Mitchell suggested that someone place a taperecorder at my bedside and turn it on in case it happened again. She said it might help her to determine the problem.”

Mulling it over briefly, Hutch agreed that it might not be a bad idea. “So you’re going to go back, then?”

“I guess. We could try her idea. What d’ya think?”

“Wouldn’t hurt. Maybe if I played the tape for you, some of the dreams would come back.”

Starsky perked up. “Yeah? And then I’d remember and I wouldn’t have to go back to see Mitchell again.”

Shaking his head at his lover’s enthusiasm over the idea of not seeing the psychiatrist again, Hutch pulled him over for a deep kiss. “Don’t jump the gun. Let’s wait and see if the tape recorder idea works first.”

Breathing heavily, Starsky forgot Dr. Mitchell and any dreams. “How about dessert babe?”

“What did you have in mind?” Hutch asked primly.

Starsky just winked and nodded toward the sleeping alcove. “Something golden and delicious. Say, like a Blintz.” He leered as he licked his lips.


~*~


And David went into the wilderness of Engedi and established his household. He took another wife, and had more children, but no other love. He kept abreast of the wars in Israel and he prayed daily to the Lord, living as the Lord commanded.

Now the Philistines fought against Israel and fell hard upon Saul and his sons; and they slew Saul and his sons Jonathan, Abinadab, and Malchishua. And it came to pass that a young man returned to the field and beheld the head of Saul.

Yet the Philistines were still wroth with David and unto the King of Israel. And it came to pass David’s two wives were taken captive. So he pursued the Philistines into Israel and overtook them.

The young man came out of the camp where Saul fell upon the earth and saw David. And David said to the young man, “How went the matter? I pray thee, tell me.” And he was answered, “The people have fled from battle, and many are fallen. Saul and Jonathan, his son, are dead also.”

Alarmed, David grabbed the man’s cloak, “How knowest thou that Saul and Jonathan be dead?” So the young man told him all he had seen. But David had to know. He had to see for himself. So he went into the field of battle to search out his love. When he came across the head of Saul on a pike, he knelt and wept. For the man may have tried to kill him, but he also treated David as a son, and because of Saul he was introduced to the greatest love of his life. Then he searched for that love, and when he found Jonathan he knelt beside his fallen lover. He took hold of his clothes and rent them, for as his cloth was torn, so was his heart.

And David lamented over Jonathan…

“Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be no rain upon you, nor fields of offerings; for there the shield of the might is vilely cast away. From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the might, the bow of Jonathan turned not back. Jonathan was lovely and pleasant in his life and in his death we wilt not be divided; he was swifter than eagles, stronger than lions.

“How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, my lover; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of all women.”

David gathered the body of his beloved into his arms and wept. “All of Saul’s sons, gone?! Why would God punish Jonathan, the best of all Saul’s sons? “Oh, Jonathan…Jonathan...” he chanted, his heart hardening against his enemies at each breath of his beloved’s name. For now he had to revenge Jonathan’s death. His anger and grief grew greatly within him and gave him the strength needed to defeat the Philistines completely into submission. And then to take his rightful place as the head of Isreal and God’s witness on Earth.


“JONATH…..HUUUUTCH!” Starsky cried in anguish, waking his sleeping partner. His body trembled and was wracked by sobs. He was locked between the dreaming and the waking worlds.

“Above all. I love thee above all. Do not thou forget.” He whimpered into Hutch’s neck as his lover gathered him into strong arms.

“Starsk, it’s another dream. Come on, baby, everything’s okay.”

Starsky shook his head to indicate that everything was not okay. The sadness and grief that flooded his body and torched his soul was an all-consuming fire of pain. Physical, mental, and spiritual.

Soft, light kisses gentled his temple as Hutch continued to hold him and tried to get Starsky to talk. “What are you dreaming, babe? What’s bothering you?”

Shaking his head once more to clear it, Starsky remarked, “I felt like my life was ending, but I was still alive. Trapped somehow. It was a nightmare.”

“You mean like you were being smothered or buried alive? Like in your late night monster movies?”

“Not like that kind of nightmare. This was like something killed what made me…me, ya know?”

“No, not really. But Starsk, it’s just a dream. Remember that. It’s not real.”

Starsky’s dark blue eyes still reflected a deep seated fear as they tracked Hutch while he got out of bed to straighten the covers. Unreasonable fear…of what? Overwhelmed him again. Must not be fully awake yet. “Hutch? You…you aren’t going anywhere are you?”

The blond head rose to look up at his lover. “When, now?”

“No, it’s just…I got the feelin’ that these dreams are connected to you somehow.”

“Really?”

Hutch thought this was a good sign – that Starsky was opening up to him. He just knew it. He crawled back into bed and sat up against the headboard, letting Starsky rest his head on his abdomen for security and comfort.

“That’s good that you’re remembering some substance of the dreams. But, Starsk, I can’t promise you what I don’t know about the future. And if anyone should know that, it would be you. I don’t plan on going anywhere, however. Not for a long time, and certainly not without you.” He petted and soothed Starsky’s ruffled curls.

“How can you be so sure, Hutch? Especially in our jobs.” Starsky swung his right arm over his lover’s torso and squeezed. “I’m afraid to lose you.”

Hutch used his finger to raise Starsky’s chin. “Hey, maybe that’s what these dreams are all about.”

“You think?” The fear lifted slightly.

“Maybe. Sounds plausible. You should talk to Dr. Mitchell about it.”

“You mean you still want me to go see her?”

“Absolutely, Starsk. This isn’t going to go away. You need to talk to someone who knows how to interpret dreams and stuff.”

“I thought you didn’t get into psycho-babble bull.”

“The mind is a vast area of knowledge that we know so little about, Starsky. There’s so many possibilities to tap into. Like with Collandra.”

“If you say so.” Starsky said doubtfully. “I still think it’s a waste of time.” He couldn’t get away from the terror that permeated his mind and soul. It was a living thing inside him.

Being afraid to go back to sleep, Starsky got up, retrieved a book, and settled in bed to read; while Hutch finished the crossword puzzle he kept in the nightstand, both eventually falling asleep where they lay.