On Stone or Plaster

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It’s Hutch’s first day home from the hospital after being trapped under his car.

 

This story was first published in the zine Seasoned Timber, Issue 3, which was dedicated to Paula Wilshe.

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“You know what, Hutch?” Starsky asked between quick gasps of air, his arms full of Hutch’s feet. “One of these days, I’m gonna have myself a special talk with your mother.”

“My mother?” Hutch, half-sitting and half-lying on the car seat, was trying his best to help Starsky with his task, but the ankle to mid-thigh cast on his left leg prevented a lot of maneuvering.

“Yep, someone is responsible for these giraffe legs of yours, and I might as well blame her.” Starsky gently lowered Hutch’s feet to the ground, and, with one hand resting on his own hip and one hand clutching the Torino’s open passenger door, he reappraised the situation. “This isn’t gonna work. You don’t fit.”

“That’s not my mom’s fault,” Hutch defended his innocent and absent mother. “It’s this damn cast’s fault. It doesn’t bend.”

Starsky ignored the obvious statement, while he handed Hutch his crutches and placed a supporting hand across his back. “On your feet a second, okay? I’m gonna adjust this seat and lay you down in the back.”

“Just what I always wanted, my own chauffeur,” Hutch quipped, aiming a smile in Starsky’s direction. “Although I wish I could drive my new car home,” he said a little wistfully, then wondered, “Who is going to drive my new car home?”

“First of all, there’s nothing new about that car,” Starsky answered, finished with the seat adjustments and making his way back to Hutch’s side. “Second of all, I wouldn’t let you drive it yet, even if you had two working legs. It isn’t ready. I just wanted you to see it for now, but it’s going back to Merle’s so he can finish the engine work, which brings me to third of all. Merle’s picking it up when he’s done at the garage.”

“I still love it,” Hutch responded while Starsky began the process of manipulating him onto the back seat.

“I know you do, buddy.” Starsky had prepared in advance for the ride home from the hospital, so he added a pillow under Hutch’s head, dropped an afghan over his lap, and finished with a light tousle to his hair. “You comfortable enough?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, let’s blow this joint.”

Starsky clutched the steering wheel for a moment, allowing the roar of the powerful engine to play over the grateful refrain in his head. One that had been running on a semi-continual loop ever since he’d found Hutch in the canyon five days ago. Got him back. Got him back. Got him back….

“How come we’re not moving?” Hutch said loudly, interrupting Starsky’s private refrain. The car immediately pulled away from the curb.

“We’re moving already, and speaking of your mother-”

“We weren’t speaking of my mother, unless you really want to harass her for the length of my legs,” Hutch said, followed by the kind of laughter guaranteed to make Starsky smile.

“I still think we should send your parents a telegram. The travel agency they booked their tour through has to have a way of getting a message to them.”

“Probably, but why tell them now?” Hutch asked. “I mean, they have two weeks left on their trip, and there’s nothing to worry about anymore. I’d rather tell them what happened when they get home, rather than have Mom making noises about flying out here from Greece. It would just spoil the rest of their trip. It would be different if you hadn’t found me in time-”

“Don’t even think that!” Starsky retorted. “I did find you in time, so don’t even think about the what-ifs.”

Starsky increased his speed, hurrying them to Venice, and for a few moments it was quiet in the car. Then a gentle voice asked, “I bet you thought about the what-ifs, didn’t you, Starsk?”

Only silence met his question and Hutch didn’t repeat it.

“There’s gonna be a houseful of people waiting for us,” Starsky said after a few more moments had passed, his tone once again bright and happy.

“My apartment won’t hold a houseful of people, so I hope you’re exaggerating.”

“Just a little. Terry’s there, of course, and so is Huggy-he has to help me get you up those stairs-and the captain said he was bringing his whole family by. Is that enough to make up a houseful for you?”

“I have no idea if I have anything to feed them. It’s been a while since I’ve been home,” Hutch replied with a pale attempt at humor, then shifted a little. “Are we almost there? I’m getting tired of staring at your roof.”

“A few more blocks, and you don’t have to worry about food. Terry went grocery shop­ping and stocked you up.”

“She didn’t have to do that,” Hutch said, obviously touched by the gesture.

“She wanted to do it.”

“She’s a great girl, Starsk.”

Starsky pulled against the curb at Venice Place, shut off the engine, and leaned over the seat to grin at his prone friend. “You don’t have to tell me that. But why don’t we get you out of this car and you can tell her? We’re home.”

Hutch nodded gratefully, but before he could start to sit up, Starsky was opening the door, flipping back the seat, and placing both hands on Hutch’s shoulders. “Let’s wait for the reinforcements. I have a feeling they’ll be right down.”

He was right. The words were barely spoken before a happy swarm surrounded the car’s open door, shouting various versions of, “Welcome home, Hutch.”

Starsky marshaled his troops.

“Okay, folks, the first thing we have to do is get the man of the hour out of this car and up those steps.” He glanced at their friends, his eyes lingering on Terry’s for a brief second before latching on to Huggy’s. “Huggy, you go around to the other door, climb in, and guide his legs out toward me while I pull from my end.”

“Wait a minute, Starsk,” Hutch protested. “Huggy doesn’t have to do that. All you have to do is give me a hand and I can get myself out.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” Starsky said with a smile and a brief chuff at Hutch’s leather-clad shoulder. “We’ll do this my way. Come on, Hug, let’s go.”

Terry and the Dobey’s watched from the sidelines as Huggy essentially pushed and Starsky pulled Hutch out of the car.

“I feel like a Slinky,” Hutch said as Starsky inched him out of the vehicle, while Huggy continued crawling forward with Hutch’s ankles in his hands.

“Got news for you, partner, you don’t move like one.”

Everyone laughed at that before Terry gave a gentle admonishment to her boyfriend. “Dave, stop teasing him and get him on his feet, okay?”

Starsky waited until Huggy was all the way out of the car and standing, still holding Hutch’s feet. Hutch was now suspended between them and looking none to happy about it.

“Okay, you can put me down now.”

“Nope, ‘fraid I’m gonna have to disappoint you and my beautiful girl over there, but we’re pressing on.” Starsky jerked his head at Huggy and started to walk backwards.

“Pressing on?” Hutch asked, making “rescue me” gestures with his hands at the others.

“All the way up the stairs. You got him okay, Hug? I’ll go up backward…” Starsky paused to heft Hutch a little higher and more securely in his arms, “…and you go up forward. Nice and slow and one step at a time.” He turned to Terry. “Is the front door open?”

“It will be by the time you get there,” Terry answered, making a dash for the door, with Edith and Rosie Dobey on her heels.

“Starsky, you two be careful with what you’re doing!” Dobey contributed loudly. “You don’t want to drop him.”

“Not to worry, Cap’n. We have no intention of dropping the big lug; I just got him back and I don’t want him more banged up than he already is.” Got him back. Got him back. Got him back…. Starsky let the sweet refrain play again, while he and Huggy made their slow journey up the narrow staircase.

Ten minutes later, Hutch was sitting upright on his own couch, his casted leg propped up on several pillows atop the wide coffee table, and looking to Starsky as grateful as if he’d just won a million dollars. The open room was buzzing with laughter and soft chatter. Huggy and Cal were sorting through Hutch’s albums, and soon a jazz melody began to compete for atten­tion with the conversations. Terry and Edith were making coffee in the kitchen and setting up dessert. Starsky took it all in, feeling the huge smile on his face, but more importantly, he watched Hutch take it all in. Watched a contented sigh turn into an answering smile. He grabbed a piece of the chocolate cake Terry was slicing, accepted a scoop of ice cream from Edith to go on top of it, and made his way to the couch to sit next to his partner.

“Here ya go,” he said, handing Hutch the plate. “Eat all of that up because, no matter if it felt like you weighed a ton hauling you up those stairs, my eyes tell me you lost more than a few pounds this past week.”

Hutch ducked his chin a little under Starsky’s scrutiny, and the fading sunburn on his cheeks brightened a bit. “Looks good.” He ran the tines of his fork through the ice cream, making a small pattern in the treat before bringing a dollop to his mouth. “Tastes good, too. One heck of a lot better than anything they gave me to eat in that hospital.”

Starsky had no interest in starting a conversation on watery Jell-O and lukewarm broth, the staples of a hospital diet, and instead slipped an arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “I bet it feels damn good to be home, huh?”

“More than I can say, Starsk. For a while there, I wasn’t sure I’d ever-”

“Uncle Hutch!” Rosie cried out excitedly, preparing to launch herself at Hutch. “Can I sign your cast?”

Starsky caught her with his free hand, gracefully placing her on his lap. “Gotta be a little careful around Uncle Hutch’s leg right now, sweetheart.”

“Be good, Rosie,” Edith called from her husband’s side, having finished serving the cake.

“She’s fine, Edith,” both Starsky and Hutch said at the same time, and more laughter followed. “After you,” Starsky generously turned the floor over to Hutch.

“She just wants to sign my cast, and I, for one, think it’s a great idea. After all, I’ll be wearing it long enough, I’d like to have Rosie’s name to look at.”

“I think we should all sign it, Hutch,” Terry said, wiping her hands casually on the back of her jeans before scooping Rosie out of Starsky’s lap and into her arms. “What a good idea you had, Rosie.”

“I have special crayons, too,” the child continued. “Mama keeps them for me in her purse.”

“That I do,” Edith confirmed, as both she and the captain made their way to the couch. “This little girl does not like sitting at restaurant tables without something to do, so I stay prepared. Let me get my purse, Rosie, and then you can sign the cast.”

After being presented with an assortment of colors from her mother, Rosie selected a purple crayon and, with Starsky supporting her, leaned down low to carefully print her name on a wide expanse of clean white plaster. She finished with a slightly crooked heart, amidst cheers from her audience.

“I’m not sure any of us can top that,” Huggy said, digging into his back pocket. “But allow me to go next and add some Huggy Bear flair with pink ink from this fine pen for Mr. Ken.”

“Huggy, you just stunk up the room,” Starsky said, amidst groans from everyone else.

The others took a turn with Huggy’s pen when he was finished, and soon, the part of the cast covering ankle to knee was colorful and full of cheerful messages and signatures. Terry was the last one to sign, and she handed the pen to Starsky.

“Thanks, but I wanna think about it for a while. I’ll sign it later.” Starsky had barely finished speaking when Hutch issued a jaw-cracking yawn. “Sounds like someone might need a nap,” he said, adding a smile for Hutch.

“No, I’m not sleepy. Not really.” Hutch’s smile was sincere, but the others saw the residual exhaustion from his ordeal on his face and in his eyes.

Edith took the lead. “Come on, children, get your things. It’s time for us to go.”

Goodbyes and thank-yous were exchanged with promises for more visits while Hutch was laid up at home, and soon, only Terry and Starsky were left on the couch with Hutch.

“My turn next,” Terry said. “Before I leave, though, would you go down to the car and get the bags, Dave?”

“Bags?” Hutch asked. “What kind of bags?”

“Your bag from the hospital and Dave’s overnight bag. I packed it for him last night.” Terry’s smile was particularly warm as she finished speaking. “He’s staying with you for a few days.”

Hutch looked from one to the other, then focused on Starsky alone. “You don’t need to do that, Starsk. I’ll be fine now that I’m home, and you and Terry haven’t had any time for each other…lately. You should go off and do some relaxing, not be stuck here.”

“Who said anything about being stuck?” Starsky asked indignantly. “I don’t have any intention of leaving you alone to trip all over yourself until you get used to those crutches. Plus, you’ve got pills to take and some of them have to be taken with food. I think you need a few days before you can negotiate the kitchen and carry things.”

“I’m not a five-year-old,” Hutch protested. “I can manage and-”

“No ands, ifs, or buts about it. I’m staying, and besides, who said I wasn’t gonna relax plenty right here? I’ll have you know Terry stocked us up with popcorn, potato chips, hamburger patties, hot dogs, spicy chili… I might never leave!”

“I picked up a few things for you, too, Hutch,” Terry added. “Things that even contain a vitamin or two.” The last was said with a frown for Starsky.

“See? Terry got you vitamins and me junk. We’ll play Monopoly, watch TV, eat, and in between all that, you can nap. A lot.”

“I did get him to agree to let you go to the bathroom by yourself, Hutch, so don’t worry too much.” Terry was laughing again as she got up to make her way to the sleeping area.

“Sure, he can go to the bathroom by himself, once he proves to me he can stand there and balance while he’s doing it; otherwise-”

“Oh, no, there won’t be any ‘otherwise,’ Starsk. I can go to the-”

“Hutch,” Terry interrupted smoothly, “there’re a few things for you on your bed.”

“That’s right, Terry and I did a little shopping for you when you were in the hospital,” Starsky supplied.

“I like that!” Terry shook her head at Starsky from the room divider, then turned her attention to Hutch. “He gave me your sizes and some money, but I did the shopping on my own.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Terry.” Hutch was looking both embarrassed and moved. “Ir09;I mean, I have plenty of clothes and all. What did you buy?”

“Just a few things that will fit over your cast without having to slice up all your pants.” Terry went to the bed and returned holding a pair of cotton running shorts with an elastic waistband. She held them up for Hutch’s inspection. “See, these will stretch real easily and be comfortable for you, too. I-”

“We,” Starsky corrected.

“Sorry, we wanted you to be as comfortable as possible in all that plaster.”

“I don’t know what to say, you two.” Hutch smiled his thanks. “That was really nice, but I insist on reimbursing you-”

“Okay,” Starsky broke in, “I better go get the things out of the car before he says some­thing even stupider than that. It’s a gift, dummy.” He went to the door, rotating his neck and shoulders as he walked. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Once the door had closed with a firm click, Terry rejoined Hutch on the couch. She picked up his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

“Hutch?”

“Hm?”

“Although I think you might already know this, I want to be sure, because, well, I think you’re going to need to cut him some slack for a while. It might take him a few days before he can let you out of his sight.”

Hutch opened his eyes wide, revealing momentary confusion before they cleared and he slowly nodded in understanding. “Starsky.” Hutch thought about the ride home. His partner’s happiness was obvious, but underneath that joy, there was…something. “I guess he was pretty shook, huh? I tried to ask him about it in the car, but….”

Terry smiled a little sadly, released Hutch’s hand, and brushed some hair off his fore­head. “Oh, sweetie, you have no idea how scared he was. We all were, but it was so much worse for Dave because he loves you so much.”

Hutch said nothing, but his lips parted slightly, and this time he picked up Terry’s hand, holding it gently, letting her talk.

“From the minute he found out you were missing…then, after what Huggy told him….”

“Terry, what? What did Huggy tell him?” Hutch realized with a start that he really knew nothing about the events leading up to his rescue. Starsky had spent every visiting hour with him at the hospital. In fact, he had charmed the nurses into letting him stay past the time limit most of the days. But as much as they had talked, Hutch now wondered what had been left unsaid.

“Huggy told Dave there was a contract taken out on a cop, but he didn’t have a name,” Terry continued softly. “You were gone, and there was a contract out on a cop. One that might have already taken place.”

Hutch drew in a ragged breath as Terry’s words had an immediate impact. What if it had been him listening to Huggy say that Starsky might be dead? What if he had been faced with the torturous thought of wondering if he was searching for a live partner or a dead body? All of a sudden, he found it difficult to breathe.

“He was so scared, Hutch, but he never gave up. Never broke down. He didn’t sleep; he didn’t stop search­ing for a minute. I came down to the station once when I knew he was there. He had called me to give me a one-minute update and hung up in the middle of a sentence. I think he was on auto-pilot or something. I rushed down with a sandwich, thinking if he was there, maybe I could get him to eat a bite, but you know what?”

Hutch shook his head, unsure of his voice at the moment.

“When I came through the hallway, there he was-running at full speed. He didn’t stop when I called to him. I don’t even think he saw me, even though he ran right past me. I found out later he’d gotten a lead on your whereabouts.” Terry stood up and began to gather her purse and sweater. “So, when I say cut him some slack, what I mean is let him fuss over you a little, okay? He needs that. He was so scared, and he needs to just be with you, take care of you, and let the nightmare memories slip away. After all, he found you, and you’re going to be just fine. He knows that, of course, but I think his heart has to catch up with his brain.”

All at once, Hutch was transported back five days, and snatches of memories surfaced. Starsky’s face hovering close to his own, speaking words of encouragement and pouring relief over the fire of fear that had burned in Hutch’s heart as painfully as his broken leg and battered body had throbbed. The softness of Starsky’s leather jacket being placed under his head; even now, he could remember its smell and feel. And Starsky’s hands, cradling his face, spreading the relief, making it real. His partner had found him and, no matter what, he wasn’t going to die alone. Starsky had left him briefly, but the feel of his hands had lingered and soothed, and he hadn’t been afraid anymore.

There had been a blur of activity after that. The sound of sirens and engines and equip­ment. Starsky at his head, leaning over to hold both his hands while the car was painstakingly removed from his leg and he was freed. Hutch tried to remember the ride in the ambulance. He knew Starsky was there, because he remembered those vivid eyes boring into his own as he was loaded inside, but the next real memory was of bright lights, the mingling of loud and soft voices, and his eyes closing even as he tried to stay conscious. His clothes being cut off. Starsky still holding firm to his right hand, as his left arm was secured by someone else, and a blood pressure cuff began to squeeze…and Starsky’s voice. He remembered that now. Re­membered the low, frantic whisperings. Remembered….

“Listen to me-I don’t give a damn what happens to his leg, but you save his life, you hear me? This is my partner and he is not gonna die.”

Ah, Starsk, Hutch thought. It really was worse for you than it was for me. With a huge effort, one he hoped didn’t show on his face, Hutch tried to refocus on what Terry was saying.

“Okay, Hutch?”

The front door banged open before Hutch could answer, and Starsky was back in the room, holding two small suitcases. “Sorry, it took me a few minutes, but I wanted to work on those seats a little more. I have to take Hutch in for a check-up day after tomorrow, and there’s gotta be an easier way to drive him around.”

“Did you figure it out?” Hutch asked in a slightly husky voice, while slyly giving Terry a nod and a smile.

“Nope, I think I’m gonna have to rent us a van, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

“All right, gentlemen, I’m going to leave you to your chili and monster movies now.” Terry went back to Hutch and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then started for the door, stopping to give Starsky a kiss as well. “Call me if you need anything.”

“We will, honey, but you call us when you get home. Just to let me-us-know you’re there.”

“Worrywart!” Terry waved gaily and called out one last thing, “You have dessert dishes to wash in the kitchen!”

* * *

Starsky washed the plates and cups and gave the kitchen counters a quick wipe-down before plopping on the coffee table in front of Hutch. He scanned his partner’s face carefully, noting the drooping eyes, even though Hutch sat up a little straighter and was obviously trying to exhibit some energy.

“Wanna get into something more comfortable and do a little dozing for a while? I bet your own bed would feel pretty good to nap in.”

Hutch pulled at the collar of his turtleneck sweater, then reached a hand up to rub his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m not sure I want to nap right now, but I feel like lying down-changing positions for my back. It’s still a little achy.”

“Hang on a second.” Starsky took off his jacket, then reached into the inside pocket, pulling out several papers. “I wanna recheck your discharge instructions. I think you’re just about due for a pain pill.”

Hutch offered an indulgent smile. “I thought you had those things memorized already, you took so long to read them when they gave them to us.”

“I wanted to make sure we had everything and that I didn’t need to ask ’em anything while we were there.” Starsky folded the papers back up and laid them on the table. I was right. You’re due for a pill in thirty minutes, but you’re supposed to take it with food and I don’t think half a piece of cake qualifies. I’ll get you something else after we get you in bed.”

Hutch nodded simply and reached for his crutches, while Starsky eased his casted leg to the floor. “Go slow,” Starsky admonished, and Hutch nodded again.

“Slow is about my only speed right now, Starsk.”

It took longer to get up from the soft couch than it had earlier from the hospital wheelchair, but Hutch accomplished it with a little assistance from Starsky, who was firmly clutching his elbow.

“I’m really going to miss mobility,” Hutch said once he was up and under the crutches.

“It’s only for six weeks, buddy, then you’ll be good as new.”

“Then I’ll have physical therapy, you mean.” Hutch’s expression revealed how little he was looking forward to that prospect.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Starsky said firmly, walking behind Hutch as they made their way to the bed. “And the important thing is when everything is over, you’ll be just fine and running circles around me again.”

They reached the bed, and Starsky pulled the covers down before Hutch sat on it with a sigh. “I know, Starsk. I’m not looking forward to how long it’ll all take, but believe me I know how lucky I am.”

Starsky closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Hutch’s face was all he saw. The tiny row of healing stitches half-hidden under clean blond hair. The faint remnants of chapped skin on the cheekbones. Eyes looking brighter and bluer than ever, framed as they were by traces of dark circles. All of it a miracle. A miracle that he had his partner back and sitting in front of him. He couldn’t stop himself and didn’t want to try. One hand reached to cup the back of Hutch’s neck and clasped firmly. “We both are real lucky.”

With a small tug on Hutch’s hair, Starsky released him and went to the pile of neatly folded new clothes, pulling out a short-sleeved, soft as butter t-shirt and the shorts that Terry had just displayed.

“Get out of your sweater,” Starsky directed.

In short time, with Starsky’s help, Hutch was out of his sliced-up-the-leg jeans and heavy turtleneck and comfortably ensconced in soft cotton. He attempted to lift both legs onto the bed, but the weight of the cast at this angle caused strain on both his leg and back, and he issued a low groan.

“Hey, watch what you’re doing,” Starsky scolded. “That’s why I’m here, to do the heavy lifting.” He grabbed the cast in mid-air with one hand, the other one pushing against Hutch’s chest to get him to recline. Once he had both legs on the mattress, Starsky drew the sheet and blanket up to Hutch’s waist and added some pillows behind his head. “Okay, you’re in. Now, you just rest until I get back with a snack and your pill.”

“You’re the boss, Starsk,” Hutch said with a sweet grin.

“You’d better believe it,” Starsky affirmed on his way to the kitchen.

Once there, he made a perusal of the refrigerator’s contents, noticing with fond amuse­ment just how well Terry had shopped for both of them. Salad fixings were side by side with sliced salami. Fresh vegetables rested against a carton of chocolate milk. The small icebox was literally stuffed full. Starsky pulled out some orange juice, cheese, mayonnaise and a loaf of bread. He decided a cheddar-cheese sandwich with a tall glass of orange juice was the perfect snack for his patient. Soon, it was all piled on a tray, including a pain pill and an antibi­otic. It was time for Hutch to take that one, too.

“You awake?” Starsky asked softly when he was back at the bed, noticing Hutch’s closed eyes.

“I’m awake; just doing what I was told-resting.”

“Good boy.” Starsky set the tray on Hutch’s lap. “I wonder how long this is gonna last, though. You not arguing with me just might make me nervous,” he said in a teasing voice.

“I’m saving up for when I have to go to the bathroom,” Hutch teased back. “What did you make me?”

“A gourmet cheese sandwich, and I even cut it diagonally. Take your pills first, though.” Starsky handed Hutch the two pills and the orange juice, watching as he swallowed them without complaint and then picked up half his sandwich and began eating. Starsky didn’t miss the slightly furrowed brow and knew his partner was feeling discomfort, if not outright pain.

“The pill should only take a little while to kick in. How’s the leg feeling?”

“Still attached to my body, thanks to you.”

Starsky blanched a shade paler and sat down on the bed, facing Hutch. “That’s thanks to the doctors and your own constitution.”

Hutch put down the sandwich and awkwardly leaned forward over the tray resting on his lap. He put his hand on Starsky’s knee and squeezed firmly. “That’s thanks to my partner. I have my leg and my life, thanks to you.”

Starsky fumbled for a response, and an uncomfortable lump rose in his throat. “Hutch, you…all that time….”

“I know, buddy. I know.” Hutch leaned back against his pillows, and Starsky noticed the hard scan the sharp eyes were giving his own face. “It was no picnic for either one of us.”

Knowing Hutch had more to say, Starsky simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“Starsk, when you were downstairs, Terry talked to me a little. Told me a few things I didn’t know about…when I was gone.”

“Like what?” Starsky asked suspiciously, wondering what Terry could have said.

“Like the fact you’d been handed the information that I was probably already dead.”

Starsky nodded, feeling the miserable lump in his throat again, and he picked up a corner of the sheet and began to pleat it in his fingers restlessly before smoothing it back down and letting it go. “I didn’t believe it. Not in here.” He pointed to his chest, indicating the beating muscle that for days had borne a terrifying possibility. “But seeing Humphries’ smirking, ugly face…knowing in my gut he knew something, and knowing what he was capable of doing to stay out of prison, then hearing about Slater… We both know what that psycho was capable of.” Starsky picked part of the sheet back up and dropped his eyes. “I was out of my mind scared, partner. I might as well say it right out. I was out of my mind scared that I’d never see you alive again. Never work with you again. Never hang out with you again…never talk to you again. Or listen to you again. And along with all that, I was furious.”

“Furious?” Hutch repeated the word slowly, sounding as if he’d never heard it before.

“Oh, yeah, I was furious. Furious that some low-life got to you. That I wasn’t there to stop it. That because of our jobs…of simply doing our jobs, you might be dead. I was furious,” Starsky ended simply, raising his eyes to meet Hutch’s.

Hutch moved the tray of half-eaten food from his lap to the nightstand, then covered Starsky’s hand loosely with his own. “But we know that every day, partner. Every time we hit the streets, we know something bad could go down.”

“Yeah, we know that every day, but the knowing and the happening are two different things. And we both know that, too.” Starsky took a deep breath, blew it out slowly, and then, aloud, shared the thought that burned like acid in his belly. “What we do matters. It makes a difference and I’m proud of it. Proud of us. But Hutch….”

“I’m listening.”

“Sometimes it’s damned hard to accept the price tag. To know I could lose something more important to me….”

“…than the job could ever be,” Hutch finished for him.

“Yeah. Way more.”

“I know. I feel the same way, Starsk. The exact same way.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

“The same thing we always do. Handle it. Respect the fear, but control it. Watch each other’s backs as closely as we can, and try and keep the upper hand.”

“Oh, is that all?” Starsky laughed then, trying to shake off the rawness of the emotions he had allowed to surface. “It sounds so simple when you list it out that way.”

“Not simple, but we can do it. We’ve been doing it for six years.”

“Allowing for a few bumps along the way?” Starsky said, tapping the sheet over Hutch’s cast.

“Yeah, allowing for a few bumps.” Hutch yawned again, bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle it.

“I think that pill is starting to work, now. You’re about to pass out on me.”

“Not quite,” Hutch mumbled around another yawn. “Maybe soon, though.”

“Maybe very soon.” Starsky gazed affectionately at his best friend, deliberately replaying his mantra with pure gratitude. Got him back. “So, what else did you and Terry talk about?”

“Oh, this and that. I think she loves you, Starsk.” The last word was almost obliterated by the latest yawn.

“Great, you go to sleep now, just when it’s getting interesting.” Starsky’s smile was relaxed and happy again. “I think you might be right, partner.”

“And how about you?”

“She’s special, Hutch. She gets me. She gets us…what we do. What we are. She’s real big on family and she knows we’re family. I like it that she never gives me any grief about playing pool with you after we’ve just done a twelve-hour stretch, or nights we have to run stakeouts, or any of the other million things that other women have managed to bitch about. She’s special.”

“I know she is. I think she’s great, buddy, and she could be really good for you.”

“Her work is as important to her as ours is to us. That could be part of why she doesn’t complain about our hours. I’ve watched a little of what she’s accomplished with some of those kids, and it’s pretty amazing. Give her another coupla years with them, and she’s gonna’ve made a real difference in their lives.”

“Spoken like a smitten man,” Hutch teased. “Be sure and give me enough time to get fitted for a tux. Will my cast be off?”

“Careful, Blondie, or I’ll break something else. Trust me, I’m not thinking along those lines right now, but whatever the future holds, bet your ass you’ll be right in the middle of it.”

Hutch barely nodded and his eyes shut again, firmly this time.

“That’s right, partner, give it up,” Starsky said softly. “You need some sleep. I just have one thing to do before I leave you to dreamland.”

Starsky left the room for a moment and when he returned, he was holding a heavy black felt pen. He carefully sat at Hutch’s shoulder and drew the sheet off the sleeping man.

“I wish I could put this in stone, buddy,” he whispered, “but plaster will have to do.” Slowly, he began to print on the thigh portion of Hutch’s cast:

IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN IMMEDIATELY

TO DAVID STARSKY, 555-4987

Starsky read the words back to himself a few times and muttered, “That oughta do it,” before redrawing the sheet and covers up to Hutch’s chin. “I don’t plan on losing you again.”