No More Shakespeare

Both Starsky and Hutch come to realise the mistakes they made when dealing with Lionel Fitzgerald.

Missing scene from Quadromania.

 

Posted on AO3 under Ugerchucker.

---

Starsky never wanted to hear another line of Shakespeare ever again. He’d heard enough of it spewing from the deranged Lionel Fitzgerald’s mouth to make him hate the bard for the rest of his life. He desperately wanted to tell the guy to shut up, but he didn’t think he’d be heard. Instead he chose to focus all his attention on not throwing up on Hutch or the pretty lady holding his hand.

“Calvary’s on their way,” Hutch said, his hand still on Starsky’s ankle.

“Terrific,” Starsky panted. “Think I can get some…shut eye now?”

“Hate to be a meany, but could you hold on a little longer? Ambulance is on it’s way.”

“Don’t need an ambulance,” Starsky complained. “Just a little tired. Can’t you take me home?”

“You need that cut cleaned and you might have a concussion.”

“I got a first aid kit…”

“Don’t argue this,” Hutch said, raising his warning finger. “You’re going to the hospital, but I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll take in the cab once back up has arrived. Deal?”

Starsky rolled his eyes, which was a big mistake. He had to close his eyes and wait for the world to stop spinning. “Deal.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to wait…”

A police car pulled up behind the cab. Young officer Baker jumped out looking as eager as ever, but took a step back when he saw the mentally broken Thespian angrily quoting King Lear to his metal hand.

“Is this the murderer?” he asked, slowly getting his handcuffs out of his pocket.

“Yep and he’s all yours.” Hutch gave the rookie a smile, before turning back to his partner. “I’ll be taking Detective Starsky to the hospital. Do you mind driving, KC?”

“Not at all, hon.” She took a gentle hold of Starsky’s elbow. “Let’s get you down from there.”

With Hutch holding his other elbow, they helped drag Starsky off of the crate, but the moment his feet touched the ground his knees buckled. Hutch was able to grab him under the armpits before he could hit the ground.

“Come on Starsk, if you want to go in the cab, you have to stay on your feet.”

Starsky thought that was obvious, but chose not to say. He was still fighting an internal battle with the meagre contents of his stomach. He tried again and this time was able to get his knees to lock and with Hutch and KC’s help he was able to walk over to the cab. KC opened the back door and helped Starsky lie down on the back seat. It felt so nice, the soft seat cushions against his aching head. Now that he was lying down he remembered how tired he’d been before the attack. He’d had so little sleep the last few days and now he had a head injury, which just made him want to sleep more. He closed his eyes and didn’t even hear the engine rev up or feel the car pulling out of the alley. In fact the next few hours were a bit of a blur, that he mostly remembered in snapshots.

Hands pulling him out of the cab. A soft, moving bed rattling down a hallway. Throwing up on a stern looking nurse. A painful light glaring in his eyes. Doctors firing questions at him that he may have answered correctly. The whirl of an x-ray machine and then blissfully nothing for a while. The pain was muted, the noises were gone and he could finally get some real rest.

When he woke up properly sometime later he found himself in a hospital room with an IV in his arm, a mild headache and Hutch by his side.

“Hey,” Hutch said with a smile, putting down the paper he was reading. “Get enough sleep yet?”

“No.” Starsky closed his eyes and felt along his hairline, finding a bandage over the cut. “What’s the verdict?”

“Only a couple of stitches and a mid concussion.”

“And the sentence?”

“Doc says he’ll release you this evening if you behave yourself.”

“I’ll be good.” Starsky snuggled his head into the pillow. “I just want to sleep.”

“Don’t get too comfortable or he’ll keep you over night.” Hutch bit his lip and was silent for a moment. “Look, Starsk…I…I’m sorry for making you take that fare. I should have seen through that disguise.”

Starsky opened his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t notice either.”

“Yeah, but you were exhausted. I was looking right at the ugly broad and should have noticed.”

“But you worked it out in the end and came to my rescue.”

“But I could have stopped him sooner if…” Hutch stopped. A look of confusion passed over his face.

“Starsk…did Lionel break your radio?”

Starsky looked confused himself. “The radio…” Then the penny dropped and Starsky bit his lip.

“No…see the thing about that…” Starsky looked away.

“What about that? I tried to call you, but never got an answer. What happened to the radio?”

“Well, my memory is all fuzzy.” Starsky held his aching head as if for empathise.

“Don’t give me that. What did you do?”

“Well, the old…guy asked me to…turn off my radio because he didn’t like the noise.”

“What?” Hutch snapped “He asked you to turn your radio off and you did?”

“In my sleep deprived state, I wasn’t really thinking.”

“I tried to call you!” Hutch’s voice was raising. “I thought Lionel had busted your radio or had already attacked you, but you actually turned it off yourself!”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Starsky said, his own voice raising to match Hutch’s. “I thought he was just a sweet old lady.”

“A sweet old lady who nearly caved your head in!”

“Who wouldn’t have had the chance if you hadn’t left me with her!”

Hutch opened his mouth to continue his side of the argument, but realised it was futile. He sighed heavily and sank back in his chair. He had no right to be as angry as he was. They’d both been fooled by Lionel’s disguise and both felt stupid for it.

“I guess that makes us both idiots,” Hutch said lowering his voice.

“Or Lionel’s a really good actor?” Starsky suggested.

Hutch crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I think I was right.”

Starsky shrugged and rubbed his eyes. The argument had aggravated his headache. “Doesn’t matter now. Show’s over. That’s all folks.”

“The end.” Hutch finally smiled when he saw Starsky’s eyes start to droop. “Get some sleep.”

“Happily,” Starsky said, closing his eyes.

“Sleep, perchance to dream.”

Starsky groaned and turned on his side, his back to Hutch.

“No more Shakespeare!”