A bouquet of roses and lots of thanks to Solo and SHaron for all their help scanning and proofing these classic stories of Constance Collins! This story originally appeared in the zine Indigo Boys, a mixed-media zine, and can also be found in The Collected SH Stories from The Indigo Boys. Both zines can still be obtained from In Person Press

Comments about this story can be sent to: VenicePlaceAngel@aol.com

(Editor's note: the Clandestine Report Series by Constance Collins has appeared in issues of the SH fanzine, THE FIX. Not for the eyes of anyone but himself, these are reports Starsky types as he sorts out his feelings about his work and, more importantly, his partner, Hutch. This story is set during the SH episode "Starsky vs. Hutch" from the series fourth season.)

The Lonesome Time
by
Constance Collins

CLANDESTINE REPORT #208
David Michael Starsky

Part l: The Lonesome Time

New assignment tomorrow, and H and me get a new (temporary) partner -- Sergeant Kira Allyn. Don't know anything about her except she must do a pretty good 2-step, since we're goin' undercover at a pay-per-dance place. Couple of their employees been killed and it's the good guys to the rescue again...

And, you know, the crime just makes no fucking sense to me . I mean, why would anybody wanna knock off girls that dance with guys for a living? I mean, I can almost understand the kinks who think they gotta off hookers 'cause they're sellin' sex -- and that shrink who told us they were really fightin' against their own turn-ons made sense . But dancing? I mean, I just can't get a guy having to fight his own desire to dance. That's just weird.

H's gonna hate this assignment. He's a terrible dancer... well, really, he's not a terrible dancer, he's a terrible leader. When he follows, he dances pretty good. Only we ain't gonna be dancin' together, so I guess Mr. Smooth Moves'll just have to make the best of it. Maybe it'll lend authenticity to our covers -- the way he dances, anybody'd believe he's gotta pay somebody to dance with him.

I don't think I've ever been so lonesome in my life. It feels like I've got the 'flu in my heart... shit, now I'm startin' to sound like a country-western song.

And I couldn't stand the tv tonight, and the silence was worse, and happy songs sound so sappy when you're miserable, so I put on a stack of my old '45's, all the tear-your-heart-out songs I got. Listened to Ray Charles' "I Can't Stop Loving You" about a dozen times so far. And pretty soon I'm gonna start bawlin'. Even after Terry died, I didn't hurt like this. 'Cause I had H. And now I'm alone. He doesn't want me for a lover or a friend, and I guess I'll find out tomorrow if he wants me for a partner.

He said it isn't working out. And I can't say I haven't been expecting it... like since the whole thing started. And things have been worse lately. But we were just making out on the sofa, and I could tell he wasn't exactly there -- and then he stood up real suddenly and said it wasn't working out. I tried to kid him back to me -- I told him if we both put our minds to it, it'd work out just fine, but he gave me that patented Hutchinson you-are-an-idiot look and started buttoning his shirt. "I mean this whole relationship." He coulda been spittin' icebergs at me, the words were so cold.

"The whole relationship, or just this part of it?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I can separate them any more. I feel like I'm losing my grip -- "

"You can hang on to me," I offered.

The look he gave me should have killed me on the spot. "Is that really all you ever think about?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I told him, and I hadn't. I just wanted to help.

His attention softened a little. "I'm lost. I don't know who I am, or who you are any more. And I don't know how to find myself again.

"And I can't talk to you, because you look at me with this expression of -- love, lust, adoration, I-don't-know-what, and it scares the hell out of me. But there's no room for me in my own life. You've invaded every inch of space -- you're in my blood, you're in my pores, you've become part of my goddamn DNA. I can't hear myself think because I keep hearing your voice instead. I can't think of anything but you, and I'm losing myself in the process."

My first thought (I kept it to myself) was "Sounds like love to me."

After that, I couldn't think of anything to say for a long time, and H just kinda paced back and forth in front of me.

Finally, I thought of something to say. "So, what do you want to do?"

He stopped, looked at me. "Walk out that door and pretend I never met you. Drag you into the bedroom and make love to you forever. Go back to the way things were. Pull the covers up over my head and never come out." The words came at me like gunfire -- fast and deadly.

I understood it all -- it was all the feelings I'd felt when I was falling in love with him. Did this mean he was falling in love with me? And if so, would he like it when he got there?

"Yeah," I agreed, and he just looked at me. "So, you wanna go back to the way things were?" I offered.

He gave me a disgusted look. "Starsky, there is no way two intelligent people can just forget the kind of intimate relationship we've been having."

"Yeah, but what's stopping us?"

He looked at me for a minute like he might actually laugh, like he really liked me, but that passed. "I don't know. I don't know what we should do . All I know is that I' m not sure I can go on like this, feeling like I've been swallowed up, like I don't know who it is I'm seeing when I look in the mirror -- "

"Yeah," I agreed. I'd had that sensation, too, only I'd liked it -- a kind of merging beyond anything physical. I'd liked it, and H was trying to run away from it. I stood up so we were more eye-to-eye. "So now what?"

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I have to leave. I need to think, to try to understand how I feel -- "

If he said "get in touch with his feelings" I was gonna throw up, so I interrupted him. "Yeah. If you're not here, you shouldn't be here."

"It could turn out this just wasn't right," he said, sounding a little desperate. I didn't tell him that even if it turned out it wasn't right for him it was right for me. And I didn't tell him my heart was breaking. All I told him was good-bye.

Ray Charles again. Every time it comes up, I think I won't play it again, and then I do.

Terry went thru my '45 collection once and told me a shrink would take one look and diagnose me as a split personality -- all the different styles didn't fit into one person.

I loved her. I guess I still love her. And I miss her. I think she knew about how I felt about H -- she never pressured me, never wanted more than what was there -- or, at least she never asked for more. She loved me. And we were friends. And she loved H, too. We never talked about gettin' married except at the end. But I thought about it. Maybe we coulda had something... I don't know. I thought it was hopeless then -- I mighta married her, thinking H was a hopeless case. I don't know. I'm going crazy. We're going undercover tomorrow and I've gotta walk in Cap'n's office already in disguise. And if they play any Ray Charles at the dance hall, I'm done for. Gotta be somebody else, some guy who doesn't wanna cry when his partner gets cold feet and splits on him... Maybe that's all this is, maybe it all just happened too fast for him and he's got the bends. Maybe he'll be ok -- maybe he misses me as bad as I miss him, maybe -- maybe he's out someplace right now, scoring with some dishy blonde. Maybe I oughta leave town before things get worse. Maybe I'll call him. Just to say good-night.

Part 2: Discordance

Two nights ago I sat on my bed thinking seriously of ending it all. I held the phone in my hand for over an hour, practicing exactly what I'd say to Cap'n, and whether I'd really go back to NY or just relocate somewhere out here. But I couldn't see hanging around here. Then this Eagles song came on the radio -- "Best of My Love" -- and I really thought I was gonna cry.

And today... I'm still not sure. H and me're speaking again -- barely. We've neither of us tried to do any violence to each other, but there's nothing of the way things were between us...

When we tried to talk the other day I asked him if this was what he wanted -- he didn't want what we had, and he didn't even seem to want to be friends, was it Kira he wanted? Or was he trying to break up the partnership? Because it seemed to me like all he was doing was trying to make sure I had nothing -- not him, not Kira, nothing. And I wanted an explanation. What I got was a look from him like. I dunno, like I'd hurt him someplace deep. Maybe I did. Maybe I was even trying to. Anyway, neither one of us said anything else, so I left.

Well, I was probably just kidding myself with Kira, anyway. I don't know. She's not even a particularly good cop and whatever private little game she was playing. I don't want to know. I doubt I coulda gone on forever telling myself I loved her and thinking about H. He's in my blood.

First off, she was blonde, that soft, delicate blondeness that made my heart race, that made me think of all the nights I'd yearned to touch H's hair (but hers isn't as fine or silky as his ).

Though I gotta admit, I didn't think of that first thing -- the first thing I thought of was the way she smiled at me when H and me walked into Cap'n's office that morning (and I knew she was smiling at me, because with the scowl H had on his face, nobody in their right mind would smile at him). The first thing I thought was that if felt pretty terrific having somebody bein' nice to me for a change. I was lonely, lonely so deep I didn't even realize it -- like how when your arm goes to sleep, you don't feel the pain till the blood starts coming back in. I was hurting, and I wanted H and I couldn't have him, which I shoulda been used to, only now, having had him, I couldn't even fantasize about him like I could before. Now, all I could do was lay in bed alone and wish I had my heart back.

So she was nice to me while H scowled at us from across the room. At first I felt guilty -- I didn't want her I wanted him but I'd started to feel like a man who'd been hanging off the edge of a cliff too long -- I didn't care anymore, I just wanted to let go. So I did. After Cap'n outlined the murders, I asked Det. Sgt. Kira Allyn out for lunch. And she accepted.

And we had fun. Hot dogs in the park, and afterward we shared a popsicle. And I asked her out for dinner.

She gave every signal I've ever seen to let me know she wanted me to spend the night, and I ignored 'em all. I wanted to, only -- I dunno. H was still stuck there in the back of my mind, in my heart, in my blood.

So we played and flirted and laughed while H sulked and scowled and gave me killer looks that made me so hard I wanted to die. And I enjoyed it, all of it, the fun stuff with Kira and how mad H was getting. And I started thinking maybe we could really make something good together.

And now there's just nothing left and I don't know what to do.

Part 3: Slow Dance

His arm around me as we left The Pits felt good, like in the old days when we touched and all there was was warmth, no sparks. I liked it, wanted it to stay like that, but I knew my body would betray me fast enough. But for that moment everything felt just right; H was holding me in the old way, without any tension or indecision.

When we got to the parking lot, we both began to laugh. "I'd say we confused the hell out of her," H said after a while, and I agreed. Then he looked at me soberly. "I'm sorry. I've been a real jerk."

I wanted to shrug, kind of non-committal, only he still had his arm around my shoulder and I didn't want him to think I was shrugging him away. So I said, "Me, too. Anyhow, I've seen you act worse."

"Not toward you."

True enough. "Forget it."

"We've been hurting each other pretty good these last few days," he said, as though I hadn't spoken. "It's got to stop."

Now I was scared. "Wha'd you have in mind?" If he said break up the partnership I didn't know what I'd do. Even though I'd been thinking of it myself, I didn't think I could handle it.

"I need some time to think," he went on. "But I'll try to quit being such an SOB while I'm doing it."

"Some people can't walk and chew gum at the same time," I said. "You, you can't think and act sweet at the same time."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to practice."

We parted then, and I went home, but I wasn't tired and I didn't feel like doing anything, so I turned on a soft light and opened a beer, then sat holding it and staring at the blank tv screen while the bottle got warm. When I took a swallow, it was about room temperature, so I got up and got another one. It was about halfway to the same state when I heard the knock.

It knew it was H. Not just because I know H's knock -- though I do -- but because who else would be visiting me in the middle of the night, and would knock so soft, knowing he didn't have to pound loud enough to wake the dead because I wasn't asleep?

"Come on in," I called, and he did. He joined me on the sofa, picked up my first beer and set it back down.

"Got any cold ones?"

"Help yourself."

In a moment, he was back. He didn't sit down, but kind of wandered around the room, looking out the window, turning on the radio. Finally he stood looking down at me. "Starsky, I'm lost."

"Yeah," I agreed. I knew what he meant: I'd kept getting lost in him when I first fell. One time, I'd said to Terry, "When I was growing up in Minnesota -- " and only stopped because she was laughing. She'd said something about my not knowing where I left off and H began, like it was no big deal, but she knew and I knew.

"I don't know what to do."

"Me neither. It doesn't go away, you just kind of get used to it." I didn't say that I'd got to like it: I figured that would piss him off.

"Get used to it, " H repeated. "People always said we lived in each others' pockets, but I feel like I'm living inside your clothes."

I didn't say how good that sounded to me, but my eyes must have said it for me because H shook his head. "You're impossible."

"No, just improbable." And he laughed.

"Why don't you dance with me?" Something slow was playing on the radio -- Presley's "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You." I stood up, put my arms around him.

It was close, slow, seductive, intimate, all the things a dance between lovers should be. I kissed him, thinking we should finish our talk first, get things worked out, but I didn't want to talk, I wanted to dance with his body against mine and I wanted to kiss him for a long, long time. He wasn't a bit passive; he let me lead 'cause I'm a better dancer, but he held me tight and kissed me easily, his mouth open, sucking my lips into it . I closed my eyes and we moved around the room slowly, his hands sliding from my back to my ass, pulling me even closer.

It went on for a long time, and it was wonderful, but I knew if we kept dancing we'd never talk, that our hormones would take over and we'd be back in the same mess we'd been in before, but I couldn't let him go. Then I noticed that he'd stopped moving and I could feel him looking at me, so I opened my eyes.

"I must be an idiot, " he said softly. I didn't know what he meant, so I didn't say anything, just looked at him. "Why the hell do you put up with me?"

"You're more entertaining than Louise and a lot better kisser," I said. He laughed. "And you look good in black bikinis."

"Don't make jokes," he said severely.

"Well, then ask me a serious question."

"I am serious."

"Well, so am I. Nobody ever told me that someday I might just look at you and not be able to keep my hands from shaking, but there it is. You're irresistible."

"Starsk -- "

"Blondie, I literally can't resist you."

Something in his face softened. "Yeah, me, too. But still -- you've been putting up with behavior in me that you'd never tolerate in anyone else."

"Because it's you. Because I've been a sucker for you from the word go, long before I wanted to get into your jeans."

"Such sweet talk," H murmured.

"I've always put up with more bullshit from you than I ever did from anyone else, or didn't you notice?"

"I noticed: maybe that's why I gave you more."

"Sure, to see how far you could push before I'd leave. I know all that psychological mumbo-jumbo, too. And I coulda given you the answer -- you can't push that hard. You can make me mad, but the only way you can get rid of me is for you to really and truly want me to. That's what I thought -- "

He kissed me. "No. No. No. No. No. No... "

"You hurt me so much."

"We know all the right buttons to push and we can push them so easily."

I stroked his hair, not saying anything.

"But we've got to stop before we go too far," he whispered.

"I think we did, but we're coming back now. But we can't pretend we don't know what we know, or've done what we've done." He buried his face in my hair.

"Why did I put up with all your shit? Because I knew what you were going through when we were together; it was all the same uncertainty I'd gone through by myself before I finally told you. So every time you backed off, I understood. And no matter how much I wanted to love you, I had to let you go. But I was lonely, too."

"And that was why you picked up on Kira."

"Yeah, she was being nice to me."

"And I fouled that up for you."

I shook my head. "No. You were a real bastard, but Kira's the one that fouled it up. But it wouldn't have worked anyway. It's you I want."

H began swaying in time to the music and once again we began to dance.

"You can't lose me," I told him. "You can push me away, but next time it won't be so easy. Next time, Hutch, you're gonna have to say the words, you're gonna have to say, 'Starsky, I don't want you in my life any more.' Otherwise, I'm not going anyplace, no matter who you fuck, no matter what you do. I'm here for the duration. You got that?"

He kissed me, long and hard. "Got it."

"You want to spend the night?" I asked.

He did. So we went to my room and stripped down and got in bed. No sex -- I think it woulda pushed H over the edge, and I know it woulda me. So we lay like spoons, H's chest to my back. I heard him say my name a few times, but he wasn't talking to me, he was just kind of listening to the sound of it, for security. Then he fell asleep.

end