Apple Pie

Starsky can smell something familiar as he wakes up.

Written for the SHFAFF Friday fiction prompt: a familiar smell or scent.

As he began to wake up, Starsky could smell the mouth-watering scent of apple pie. He smiled. His mother must have gotten up early to start baking and it seemed there would be apple pie for dinner that night. Or if it was Saturday, he might be able to convince her to share a slice at midday. Mmm.

Was it Saturday? He couldn’t remember what he had been doing yesterday? School? Baseball? Or something else?

He tried to open his eyes but for some reason his eyelids seemed slow to respond. Must have stayed up too late, he thought. He stirred, wanting to rub the dust from his eyes. His arm felt heavy but he wriggled his fingers and slowly began to lift it.

“Ma,” he tried to say.

“Starsk.”

From far away, the whisper of a male voice saying his name. Was it one of his friends calling? Maybe he wasn’t just tired, maybe he’d been ill. Had he caught the ‘flu again? He remembered being really poorly when he was little. His mother had told him how she and his father had taken turns to sit and watch over him while the fever was at its worst. He hoped it wasn’t the ‘flu again. But it couldn’t be, he felt too hungry. What he’d give for a slice of that apple pie!

“Ma?” he tried to call louder.

“Starsk, can you hear me? You’re in the hospital. You gave us quite a scare but you’re going to be okay…Can you open your eyes?”

Hospital? What? Starsky tried to open his eyes. He tried to move his fingers and felt his hand being squeezed by a strong yet gentle hand.

“That’s it, buddy, I’m right here. Try again.”

The voice was familiar. He knew it. The smell of a clean hospital environment gradually overtook the scent of apple pie as he started to get closer to being fully awake.

He opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on the worried face looking down at him.

“H-Hutch?”

Hutch grinned with relief. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He lifted a cup with a straw to Starsky’s lips and helped him take a few sips. It was only then that Starsky realised how thirsty he felt.

“How are you feeling?” Hutch asked.

“Confused. What happened? Why am I here?”

“Remember McNulty? Remember we were chasing him down?”

Starsky nodded slowly. He thought he remembered that.

“We split up to try to cut him off. Unfortunately, he stopped running just around the corner ahead of you. You ran into a thick plank of wood…literally. Knocked you out cold.”

“Did you get him?”

“Yeah, I got him. Handcuffed him to a fire escape for the black and whites to collect while I took you to the hospital.”

“How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

“Two days!” That explained why he felt so befuddled and why his partner looked so ragged around the edges. “You been here the whole time?”

“Where else would I be?”

“Well, you can go get some rest now if you need to,” Starsky said. “I ain’t going anywhere. How long do I have to stay in anyway?”

“You had a severe concussion. There was swelling. They nearly had to operate but fortunately the swelling stopped yesterday. The doc said once you woke up, it should be a quick recovery. Couple of days for observation, I guess.”

“‘kay…I’m starving.”

Hutch grinned again. “When aren’t you?” he teased, but it was said with a tone of relief. If his partner was hungry, he must be on the mend.

“Just before I woke up, I think I was dreaming. My mother was making apple pie. I could smell it.”

“You want apple pie, I’ll go find some,” Hutch said, leaving Starsky in no doubt that his partner had been worried sick.

“Thanks pal. Get yourself some as well. It tastes better when shared.”

Hutch nodded, squeezed Starsky’s hand and then headed off to the cafeteria.

Starsky raised one arm to use as a pillow. As he contemplated the room around him, he gave thanks: for the fact he had woken up, for good memories of his childhood and for a partner and best friend who was loyal and dependable and always there.