I Never Liked Shakespeare

Following the attack by Lionel (Quadromania), Starsky is checked out for possible concussion. Hutch is worried about his partner and feeling guilty.

Missing scenes before the tag. First published in 2021.

“I’m all right. Patch me up, doc, and let me go home. Me and my partner know the drill. He’ll watch out for any signs of concussion.”

“Hmmm,” Doctor Jeong gave him her best hard stare. “I’m inclined to be cautious as I see from our records that you were here only a week ago.”

“Honest, doc, any symptoms, I’ll come back in, I promise.” Starsky turned to his partner, looking pleadingly at him.

“Uh yeah, I’ll keep a good eye on him, doc. I’ll bring him in if there are any changes in his behaviour or if he gets drowsy.”

“And I will too, on the double. You can count on it, buddy,” Hutch vowed. It was his fault Starsky was feeling lousy and had possible concussion. Keeping an eye on him was the least he could do. Starsky was looking at him so gratefully, Hutch felt even guiltier. “What would you do without me?” His stupid joke question raced around his head, deafening him with its clamour. “Probably live a lot longer and be a lot safer!” Hutch thought, mentally kicking himself.

Starsky gave him a funny look as if he could sense his partner’s inner turmoil. He tried to give him a reassuring smile and was relieved when Starsky seemed to buy it.

“Well,” Doctor Jeong sighed, “Apart from advising you to be more careful or get a new job, I don’t suppose you will be a model patient if I keep you in.” She smiled slightly and looked at both of them. “I’ll allow you to go home but please, Detective Hutchinson, keep a close eye on him.”

Hutch nodded as he responded: “Yes, Ma’am.”

Doctor Jeong cleaned the wound, put a tiny stitch where the cut on Starsky’s head was the deepest and then stepped back.

“That should do.” She pulled a prescription pad from her pocket and wrote neatly on it, signing her name before ripping the script off and handing it to Starsky. “Get this prescription for painkillers from the pharmacy. You’re going to have a bad head for a few hours, Detective Starsky. No physical work for you today and get plenty of rest.”

“Yes, doc. Thanks.”

Starsky couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. It was only a week since he and Hutch had been hospitalised after their car crash and he hadn’t expected to be visiting the emergency department so soon. They collected his prescription and Starsky popped two pills straight away. As they climbed into Hutch’s car, Starsky said, “We’d better go get our reports written up or Dobey will be moaning.”

“No way. I’ll do them tomorrow. I’m taking you home, pal. You need to rest like the doctor said.”

Starsky started to shake his head, but stopped quickly when his bruised skull protested.

“I’m all right, Hutch. It’s only a headache. I can write my report and then you can take me home.”

Hutch looked at him doubtfully.

“Come on, pal. It’s always quicker if we write ‘em together. If you’re that worried about me, I could dictate and you could type it up for me. If that will make you feel better.”

Hutch grimaced and rolled his eyes. Starsky wasn’t above playing the sympathy card when he needed to, but for once Hutch was happy to indulge him.

“All right, deal. But then home.”

“Yeah, okay.”

As Hutch drove towards Metro, Starsky leaned against the window and tried to doze. He was so tired. It wasn’t because of his head. He was certain of that. It was because of the late night shifts as a cabbie and the fact he hadn’t got much sleep in the last few days. After what felt like only a second, Starsky felt Hutch shaking his shoulder to rouse him.

“I’m afraid we’ve arrived. You sure you’re all right, Starsky?”

Starsky yawned and sighed. “Yeah, I’m just tired. Not used to doing night shifts, that’s all. I’ll be glad to get back to normal routine…And I’m starving. I didn’t get any breakfast.”

Hutch bit back a comment and steered his partner towards the canteen to get a late breakfast sandwich and a coffee. Actually, he was quite hungry too. In all the madness, neither of them had had a proper meal since last evening.

Feeling better after eating, the two of them walked up to the squad room and Hutch settled himself at his typewriter. Starsky poured himself another coffee and dragged a chair over to sit next to Hutch so he could see what he was typing. He closed his eyes as he tried to recall details of what had happened when the cab had reached Pine and Lincoln and the split second he had realised that his passenger was actually Lionel in disguise.

“I saw his hand; he’d taken his glove off. It was all shiny. I reached for my gun but he knocked it out of my hand, knocked me on the side of the head and tried to grab my throat. I threw myself sideways. That’s when I hit my head on the door.” Unconsciously, Starsky reached to touch his head. “I hit the ground. Dazed I guess. I couldn’t seem to move properly. I just knew I had to get away and try to get help. Made it as fast as I could away from the cab and Lionel, but he followed me. He was pretty quick for a guy with damaged limbs…Or maybe I was just slow.”

Starsky opened his eyes to find Hutch looking at him; a look of horror on his pale face.

“Hey. What is it, Hutch?”

Hutch swallowed. There was no-one else in the squad room at that moment and Hutch was grateful. He held out his hand to his best friend, saying, “I’m sorry, Starsky. I nearly got you killed. I sent you off with that madman. Thought it was a just a joke to make you take another fare when you wanted to go home to bed. Just mucking about like we always do, but this time it nearly…”

Starsky squeezed his partner’s hand briefly and shook his head gently. “It was a joke. It was what we always do. Not your fault that I ended up hurt. Neither of us recognised Lionel. I should have been on my guard. I got sloppy. After all, the guy had already killed three cabbies. I should have been more alert.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I should have seen how tired you were, that you wouldn’t be alert to danger. So it is my f-”

“-Nope, not your fault. Just the usual danger that comes with the job.” Starsky shrugged. “Now, fumble fingers get typing and try to spell my name correctly at least!” Starsky teased as he picked up the tiny bottle of correction fluid and waved it under Hutch’s nose.

Hutch chuckled and visibly relaxed. He undid the lid from the bottle and proceeded to use it twice then sealed the bottle back up. As he waited for the liquid to dry, Dobey came into the room and blinked when he saw Starsky.

“Detective Starsky, should you be here?”

“I’m fine, Cap. But once my report’s finished, I’ll go home and rest up.”

“Hmm. See you do. Two bumps on the head in two weeks isn’t a thing to be taken lightly.”

Starsky nodded and said reassuringly, “Mother Hen here is going to keep an eye on me overnight. Nothing to worry about.”

“All right. Get that report finished and then get out of here. Both of you.”

“Yes, sir. Now, where were we? Oh yes, Lionel was following me and spouting from King Lear, I’m guessing…You know I never liked Shakespeare; now I hate him!”

Hutch snorted. “It’s not Shakespeare’s fault, you got attacked.”

“Maybe not, but I’m telling ya the bard made a creepy situation much worse!”

“If you say so.”

After a lot more typing and a little more correction fluid, the report was finally done and signed by both of them. Hutch dropped it into Dobey’s office and then came back and put his jacket on.

“Come on, pal. Time to get out of here.”

Starsky yawned and stood up, swaying wearily as he did so. “You won’t get any more arguments from me. I’m beat.”

As they drove towards Starsky’s home, he lowered his eyelids wondering why they seemed to feel heavier than usual. The headache that had receded a little when he had taken the painkillers had come back with a vengeance, although he wasn’t going to say anything to Hutch about it. He was sure he’d feel better as soon as he finally got some much needed sleep. He tried to hide his lack of co-ordination as he stumbled slightly up the stairs to his front door, but Hutch’s hawk-like eyes weren’t fooled.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Hmm.”

Starsky unlocked the door and they both walked in, taking off their jackets, holsters and kicking their shoes to one side of the door.

“You want a drink?” Hutch asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Nah, I think I’ll try and get some sleep.”

Hutch looked him over. “Okay, but I’ll wake you in a couple of hours just to make sure you’re okay.”

Starsky nodded and yawned then headed off to his bedroom. He lay down on the bed fully clothed – too tired to look out his pyjamas – plumped his pillow and tried to get comfortable. A moment later, he was up and hurtling towards the bathroom as a wave of nausea hit him. He made it just in time to vomit up the breakfast sandwich he’d had earlier.

He heard Hutch running towards the bathroom as he sank to his knees.

“I don’t feel so good, buddy,” he murmured as he passed out.

*****

There were hands and a voice. The hands were holding his right hand in a strong yet gentle grasp and the voice was talking softly. Hutch. He knew it was Hutch even before his brain started processing what was going on around him, before he could even decipher the words or open his eyes. He knew his partner’s presence and the tone of his voice even when he appeared to be still unconscious as far as the world was concerned.

“Come on, Starsk. Wake up now buddy. I know you needed some sleep but it’s been three days. You’re starting to scare me here. Please Starsk. Wake up.”

Starsky tried to open his eyes, but his lids felt too heavy and they wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands. He tried to move his fingers to let Hutch know that he’d heard him. At first nothing happened then he was sure he’d made a small movement.

“Starsk? Did you move your fingers?…Do it again, buddy.”

Starsky tried really hard to comply. He concentrated all his effort into his right hand and tried to wiggle his fingers.

“I felt that, buddy. Keep trying. Can you open your eyes for me? Come on, Starsk. Let me see those dark blue eyes of yours.”

Starsky tried and tried and suddenly felt his eyelids starting to lift. They stuttered in their movement a couple of times and then opened wide to see Hutch’s relieved face looking at him.

Starsky squeezed Hutch’s hand and felt a squeeze in return.

“W-What happened?”

“Seems your head’s not as thick as we always thought it was,” Hutch tried to joke, but Starsky could hear the fear in his partner’s voice.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three days. The doctors had to put you in a medically induced coma to try to stop your brain swelling any further. They brought you out of it yesterday, but you refused to wake up.”

Starsky looked in his partner’s eyes and could see the worry lining them.

“Sorry to scare you, buddy. Must have needed more sleep than I thought.”

Hutch shook his head slowly but started to smile with relief.

“Yeah, you must have.”

Starsky tried to sit up and Hutch moved quickly to assist him. As he sat back down, Starsky’s stomach rumbled.

“I’m hungry. When’s lunch?”

Hutch grimaced. “And he’s back to normal! How come the first thing you think about when you wake up is automatically food?”

“Hey! Here you are telling me I’ve been asleep for three days and I’m guessing I haven’t eaten anything while I’ve been unconscious! Of course, I’m hungry. In fact I feel like I’m starving!”

Hutch stood up with a fond look of despair on his face. “What do you want then, Gordo?”

“Anything, partner…Except maybe not a breakfast sandwich. Don’t think I’ll be eating those for a while!”