This story was originally published in the Starsky and Hutch Special Collection, published by Neon RainBow Press. Special thanks go to Marlene for typing / first proofing and to SHaron for final proofing. Comments on this story can be sent to: flamingoslim@erols.com who will forward them to the author.

Commitment

by

MLM

"Lord, how am I going to tell him?" Detective Ken Hutchinson asked himself aloud. "How can I tell him something even I don't understand?" As his light blue eyes filled with tears, he sighed heavily, then focused on the paper again."

Like you, he read, I am in this world to survive. We have learned this survival is not an easy task, but the sharing of any burden lightens its load. Therefore, I propose the following: to commit myself to you with hope you will commit yourself to me.

"I see you've got the commitment out again," a familiar voice observed softly, startling Hutch. "And whatever it is you don't know how to tell me, just saying it's usually the easiest way."

"How long have you been back there?" Hutch accused, as his partner David Starsky joined him on the couch. "I didn't even hear you come in."

"I know. I didn't want you to," Starsky answered. "I figured the only way I'd find out what was wrong was to catch you off guard. Judging from what I just heard, it worked."

Met with stony silence, Starsky gestured to the paper in Hutch's hand. "How come you're reading that? Some special reason, or do you just feel nostalgic today?"

"No, it's more than nostalgia. These last couple weeks it's been a life-saver, literally. I thought it might give me a lift again today."

"Care to tell me why you've needed a life-saver?" Starsky pressed gently. "Or are you gonna make us play Twenty Questions? Or would you rather just be left alone?"

"I'd rather not do either, but..." Pausing, Hutch released a reluctant sigh. "Let me finish reading this, and then I'll explain, okay?"

"Sure," Starsky replied, settling closer. "I'd like to read it again, too. You can just pretend I'm not even here. I'll read over your shoulder."

Hutch's eyes grew misty as he scanned the paper, and kept his head averted in the hope that Starsky might not see his tears. He felt Starsky's dark head bend close to his own light one as he continued to silently read.

This commitment shall include many things, it continued. Above all, to share your life so completely it will become part of mine. I will strive to know your innermost feelings, to share your joys and ease your pain. I'll be here as much as you will allow.

As he waited for Starsky to finish reading, Hutch gazed at the vaulted wood ceiling above their heads, recalling the day Starsky presented him with the treasure he currently held. It was his first day home following his bout with a near-fatal plague, a day that had forever changed both their lives. Now, just five short years later, they were about to irrevocably change once more.

Sensing Starsky's patient but curious gaze when the dark head turned toward him, Hutch glanced over, then looked away. "When I gave you my return commitment, I promised I wouldn't keep secrets, didn't I?" he asked softly. "So I guess that means I have to tell you something that... It'll be the hardest thing I've ever had to say."

Hands stuffed in his back pockets, Hutch walked slowly across the room. He stopped to lean against the frame of the sliding glass patio door and sighed. "We've known each other since the police academy," he reflected. "How many years has that been? Not to mention everything we've shared as partners these last few years. You'd think there wouldn't be anything I couldn't tell you, and there isn't...except I don't know how to tell you this."

Appearing touched by the morose tone, Starsky came up to lay his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Hey, I'm here for you, remember?" he reminded gently. "Whatever's wrong, I'll be with you all the way."

"All the way?" Hutch repeated, smiling dryly. "I'm not so sure about that part, Starsk. You don't especially care for being with sick people... Will you still be here when I tell you I'm going to die?"

For a moment, Starsky just frowned as often did at Hutch's bad jokes. But as his hand slipped from Hutch's shoulder, Hutch knew his friend had recognized his words as truth.

"Dying?" Starsky whispered finally. "What's wrong?"

"Cancer," Hutch sighed. "A malignant brain tumor. Remember the neurologist I saw about my headaches? All the tests they did? They say I only have about six months left."

"Six months! That's all?" Starsky's deeply tanned face paled to pasty white. "Can't they operate or do - do something? I mean - " Shaking his head, Starsky opened the patio door with a fumbling hand. "I've gotta get some air," he murmured. "You can tell me the rest when we get outside."

Hutch realized just how deeply the news had shaken his partner when Starsky grasped the picnic table for physical support. As Starsky perched on the edge in his usual pose, Hutch felt the sapphire eyes follow him as he went to lean against the rail surrounding the redwood deck.

"There isn't much more to tell." Hutch put his hands on the rail behind him, then leaned back. "The tumor's located where they can't operate, and they say chemotherapy and radiation would have little or no effect. There really isn't much more to say."

"There's plenty," Starsky retorted. "For starters, why did you wait so damned long to tell me? You saw that neurologist a month ago. Were you hoping I wouldn't find out?"

"In a way, I suppose. Mostly, I just couldn't find the words." Hutch chose not to respond to Starsky's anger, hoping it might fade. "I've been too confused to think straight myself, much less try to explain it to you. I knew it wouldn't affect our work yet, so I just kept reading that commitment you gave me and drawing strength from it. You didn't seem to suspect anything, so..." Hutch's voice faded as he shrugged.

"And what would you have done if I hadn't cornered you? Would you ever have told me the truth?" Starsky's voice rose with every bitter word. "Or was I supposed to just wake up some morning and find you? Just be left with some sweet memory of the night before? Was that how you wanted to end it, buddy, with me left out in the cold?"

"Damn it, Starsky, of course not." Though he knew Starsky's bitterness was born of pain, Hutch still snapped his reply. "I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew, but I just couldn't do it to you. Things have been going so well between us lately, I didn't want to risk spoiling everything. As long as I could keep working and not endanger your life, I couldn't bear the thought of making you suffer so much too. And I just didn't know how to say the words."

Turning his back to Starsky, Hutch gripped the rail hard then, unable to bear the accusations in his partner's eyes. As he fought down rising tears and gazed at the deserted beach below them, he heard quiet footsteps come to a halt nearby.

"You're really hurting a lot, aren't you?" Starsky guessed softly. "I said I was here for you, remember? Or don't you need me anymore?"

"Oh, God, Starsk, of course I need you!" Hutch cried, his arms going around Starsky's neck when his friend pulled him close. "I'm scared, Starsk," he whispered. "I'm not even forty years old yet. I don't want to die. It seems like we've barely found ourselves and our love and each other... Damn it, I don't want to die!"

"I know, babe. I know," Starsky soothed, gently rubbing Hutch's back. "Go ahead and cry, buddy. I'm here...always."

Maintaining the pose for some time as they shared their grief, it was one of their most poignant times, a moment neither man had ever wanted to face. Despite the hazards of their profession and countless narrow escapes, Hutch's news was still unexpected somehow. Hutch sensed they both felt strengthened by the power and depth of their love when they finally moved apart again.

"So do you want to tell me more about this?" Starsky asked, resuming his tabletop stance. "I don't want to hound you, but I would like to know more about what to expect."

"With luck, nothing worse than now...headaches nothing can cure. Without luck? Well, I'll face that part when the time comes."

"Sounds like we need to hope for luck," Starsky grinned, obviously knowing better than to press Hutch further. "Any chance you'll have to have the chemotherapy or radiation treatments later on?"

"Fortunately, no. The doctors say they wouldn't do any good." Hutch paused, reading the unspoken question in Starsky's eyes. "I can give you a worst case scenario, if that's what you're looking for."

"Might as well," Starsky shrugged. "Since this house is more than half yours, I'm not too apt to throw you out. Might as well find out what we're in for right up front."

"With luck the medication will keep things controlled until the tumor grows and causes a brain hemorrhage," Hutch explained in clinical tone. "If the tumor relocates or shifts, it could cause blindness, paralysis, or a coma. The neurologist doesn't think any of those things are apt to happen, but they could. Make sense so far?"

"Sure, except for one thing. I want to know what you're feeling too." Starsky's azure eyes scanned Hutch's face. "All you've told me so far are clinical details and that you don't want to die. But you've managed to hide your emotions pretty well all this time somehow... How? And why?"

"It hasn't been easy, believe me," Hutch said candidly. "I've done everything from pray to swear, and from pacing the floor all night to crying myself to sleep. It was one of my pacing nights I remembered the commitment you gave me; it put me to sleep that night and lots more times since. Strangely enough, it's also taught me to accept all this."

"Taught you?" Starsky echoed, frowning. "How?"

"By making me realize how lucky I am," Hutch answered. "A lot of people have to suffer alone because they don't have anyone who cares. I've been lucky for a long time to have you; I just never realized how lucky until I had to face this."

Embarrassed yet obviously flattered, Starsky's blue eyes dropped. "I don't know about the lucky part," he said softly, "but you're right about having me. When I wrote that commitment I meant it, especially the 'always' part. We may not have as long as I thought then, but however long it is, I'm here. I don't want you to forget that either," he admonished sternly. "Not ever. Okay?"

"Okay," Hutch said, smiling. "Somehow I don't think there's much chance I will."

~~~

The plague had been the turning point in their relationship, Hutch recalled fondly, the time when their five-year partnership had blossomed into the love relationship they shared now. It was what prompted Starsky to write 'The Commitment' for his partner, how he'd chosen to express his feelings at last...

By the time Hutch was fully recuperated and able to return to duty, their partnership had been irrevocably changed into something much, much more. Yet even then they weren't as close as after Hutch's tragic announcement that March.

The acquisition of the two-story Venice Beach home had been Hutch's tangible form of commitment, purchased exactly two years from the day they became lovers. He'd called it his 'wedding gift' to Starsky, and a marriage was very nearly what they had...every night they were together felt like another honeymoon.

Though they had continued to date women to maintain appearances, it was clear their hearts lay exclusively with one another, and finally their times with women became very rare. By the time Hutch confessed his condition, they already were staying almost exclusively to themselves...

The spring following Hutch's revelation they came to the mutual, albeit unspoken agreement that there would be no one else. Hutch was grateful - his waning energy left him barely able to keep up his side of the partnership.

Partial to the quiet life-style off duty, their routine changed little, still investing long hours relaxing with strolls along the beach. But as the cool spring became warm summer, Hutch couldn't deny that he was getting worse. By July, their beach strolls had become almost a thing of the past. Though he never complained, Hutch often held his head and sobbed silently, but only when he thought he was alone. When he was forced to go on medical leave from the department in late July, Hutch knew he would never be going back.

During an early August heat wave, he spent many miserable hours outside on the deck while Starsky was working, frequently with a pen and journal in hand. Coming home early one evening, Starsky noticed the forgotten notebook lying outside on the picnic table, its fluttering pages exposing Hutch's writing and catching Starsky's eye. He couldn't resist the temptation to pick it up.

It's not easy to explain love, he read, and to describe someone I love is impossible for me. But explanations aren't important - all that matters is how my beloved companion, David Michael Starsky, has enriched and prolonged my life.

Starsky had just laid the book aside when Hutch approached from behind him, seeing the tears coursing down Starsky's ruddy cheeks.

When Hutch laid a hand on the trembling shoulder, Starsky covered it with his own. "It's beautiful, Hutch," he murmured huskily. "I - I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Hutch said softly. "All that matters is that you understand. Do you understand, Starsky? Do you know? How much I... I love you?"

Though he often said the words in times of passion, Hutch felt it was important Starsky understood his other meaning as well. He gazed down to search Starsky's azure eyes.

"Yeah, I know," Starsky answered softly, nodding. "I'll always love you too."

Although neither forgot what they shared that evening, the incident was never mentioned again. And though the heat wave slowly abated, Hutch's pain did not. By the last week of August, both men knew the end of their time together was drawing near.

Feeling more desperate than usual one evening, Starsky sat down outside on the picnic table, lifting his tear-stained cheeks toward the brilliant stars. "Dear God," he whispered aloud, "I know You probably aren't listening after all these years I've stayed away from You, but if You are, please, help Hutch.

"He'll be thirty-nine years old tomorrow, but his good-night today sounded like good-bye. Don't take him back on his birthday, God. Let me have just one more day. There's so much I want to tell him... how much I love him, that I need him - how hard life will be when he's gone. I'll tell him tomorrow, God, I promise. Just leave him with me one more day."

After spending more time in silent prayer, Starsky headed for his bedroom, hating the fact that Hutch's restless sleeping habits had forced them into separate rooms. He had just reached Hutch's bedroom doorway when he heard the soft call that made his blood run cold.

"Starsk? Are you there? Starsky?"

"Right here, babe," he answered, hurrying to grip Hutch's groping hand. "What's wrong, buddy? What do you need?"

"You," he murmured, clutching Starsky's hand tight. "That final moment we've talked of? It's almost here."

"No! As soon as we get you to the hospital, you'll be..."

"No. No hospital, Starsk. Please." Hutch's eyes were as beseeching as his words. "Let me go now. Here. Where I belong... with you. Just be with me like you promised... always. Hold me, Starsk? Just for a minute? Please?"

Bending down to embrace him tightly, Starsky couldn't stop his tears. "I love you, Hutch," he whispered. "I don't want to let you go. Let me call somebody who can help you. I can't. Not anymore."

"Yes, you can. You are. You're here and you love me... like we've loved each other for so long." His voice faltering, Hutch's arms tightened. "Starsk? I... love you, babe."

"I love you too, Hutch," Starsky said, hugging him tighter as a chill ran up his spine. "Hutch? Hutch!"

A tiny gasp his final breath, Hutch's body relaxed within Starsky's arms then, the hint of a smile on his face, his weary eyes closed. Gently laying him back on the pillow, Starsky knew Hutch was free of pain at last. He still couldn't help dropping his head to Hutch's lifeless chest as he burst into sobs.

~~~

After he had notified Hutch's doctor, Starsky spied an envelope with his name propped against the wall near the telephone. The digital clock read 12:27 AM as he reached for the final words Hutch had written. He swallowed hard, realizing his friend had died moments after the start of his thirty-ninth year.

Much later that night, alone, Starsky opened the envelope, smiling at Hutch's customary heading of date and time. "August 27th," he read aloud. "11:10 PM."

My beloved Starsky, the letter began. As I write this now I know it won't be long before you read it. My last moment, the end of our 'always', is very near. I realized tonight I've left too much unsaid, so through my fading sight I'll open my heart to you one last time.

Reading the words as tears streamed from his eyes, Starsky nodded and pressed the paper to his chest. With tears still flowing, he looked up at the vaulted ceiling with a shaky smile and a sigh. "Okay, Hutch, you're free to go now," he whispered. "I'll always love you and always miss you, but I'll let you go. Because I know wherever you are, someday I'll be there too and we'll be together again. You can be happy now, Hutch. You're free at last."

As he closed his eyes against renewed tears, Starsky caught a glimpse of Hutch one last time. He was still hovering somewhere near, and he was smiling, and his face was aglow with love.

end