A Plea

Hutch sits vigil.

It’s easier to bear the pain because they share it, no matter which one of them is going through hell. Excruciating withdrawal or fever, the sharp sense of loss, the feelings of helplessness. These are all burdens that are lightened because, no matter what, the turmoil is reflected in an almost matching pair of eyes.

But now Starsky’s eyes are closed, maybe forever, a machine does his breathing for him, and he’s nearly motionless in the hospital bed.

He doesn’t have the right to demand, but he does anyway.

“You have to wake up. I can’t do this without you.”