Work Text:
Regrets
by Morgan Logan (logan117666@yahoo.com)
Hutch walked down the familiar corridor, dread echoing in his slow steps.
Not knowing what to expect, he'd asked Starsky to wait in the car;
Starsky's health was too precarious right now to risk exposing him
to hospital germs. A recent flu had left him with bad bronchitis in his
damaged lung, and Hutch didn't want him catching pneumonia, or worse.
The antiseptic smells washed over Hutch, bringing back painful memories.
He banished them, consigning them to the box labeled, 'Only to be opened
in case of nightmares.' Finally, he was at the door. Room 609. He eased it
open quietly.
The woman on the bed bore almost no resemblance to the girl he had known.
Her once-glorious strawberry blond hair was chopped short, dangling around
a thin, almost emaciated face. An oxygen mask was strapped over her mouth,
and a multitude of dark, purplish blotches dotted her skin. Hutch felt his
heart drop, but quickly covered his reaction; her eyes were open, and
staring at him in surprise.
The deep blue of those vibrant eyes was the only thing that remained
unchanged; that, and the profound sadness that radiated from them. She
raised a trembling hand and pushed the mask down off her face.
"Handsome Hutch," she whispered hoarsely, her thick, Southern accent still
in evidence; but gone were the lovely tones of her sultry voice. What
remained was sandpapery and dry; dead leaves rustling in the wind.
"Sweet Alice." Hutch approached the bed and reached down to take her thin
hand in his own. "What're you doing here, kiddo?" He kept his voice light.
"Dyin', I expect," was her response. Never one to dodge terrible truths,
his Sweet Alice.
"I wish it weren't so, Sweetness," Hutch said softly. Her hand twisted in
his to grip him firmly.
"Wishes don't make horses, Hutch, although I wish I could go for a ride on
yours." She was interrupted by a rattling cough that seemed to come from a
deep place in her chest. Hutch's face twisted.
"Now, don't go lookin' like that, Darlin'. Everybody's time comes
sometime. And you've been close to the door often enough to know it ain't
so bad. Only thing is the regrets." She looked up at him wistfully.
He smiled gently, "Regrets, Alice?"
"Oh, I have a few, Handsome," she paused to slip the mask back on, taking
some shallow breaths. Hutch waited patiently, looking down at their joined
hands.
Alice pulled the mask off again, the movement bringing his eyes back to
her face. "Always thought I'd get out of the Life, and that maybe if I
did, you'd come around to my way of thinkin'," she winked.
"Maybe I would've, Alice," he lied.
"Naw. You can't kid a kidder, Handsome Hutch. Knew from the first time I
saw you that your heart was already stamped 'Property Of.'" She smiled
knowingly.
His face stilled.
"It's OK, Darlin'. You're the only one I ever told my secrets to." She
squeezed his hand and sagged back further into the pillows. Her blue eyes
fluttered.
Hutch cleared his throat. "Maybe I have a few of my own. Regrets."
Alice tilted her head, "So...guess you haven't told him. Well, take my
advice, Handsome. Life is short, and death is long. If you haven't figured
that out by now, then you're a damned fool." She laughed a little, the
choked sound turning into another ragged cough.
Hutch nodded, accepting the implied insult. "You know that much about me,
Alice." He listened, concerned, to her labored breathing. "I should let
you rest, now. I'll...come back. Maybe Starsky can come for a visit, too."
He knew Starsk would want to, before it was too late. "Alice, I wish...."
She opened her eyes again, "I know, Handsome. You know what I wish for?"
"What, Alice?"
"Never mind," she said, eyes drifting shut, "I think I'm the one stamped,
'Do Not Touch,' these days."
Her eyes sprang open again when Hutch tenderly laid his lips against hers.
"Goodnight, Sweet Alice," he whispered before gently replacing the oxygen
mask.
He felt the blue regard follow him as he quietly walked out the door.
Hutch hurried down the hallway in quick strides, then practically ran down
the stairs, eager to escape this place of death.
He knew that outside, in the car, Starsky was waiting.
December 25, 2004
San Francisco, CA