Sun Through Storm

254

Huggy is always there for Starsky and Hutch–even if they don’t always realize it.

 

The aftermath of Starsky’s rescue in Bloodbath.

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One friend in a storm is worth more than a thousand friends in sunshine.
–Matshona Dhliwayo

 

Huggy spied Hutch’s bright gold hair as he walked into the waiting area at Memorial Hospital. Hutch sat slumped over, head in his hands, his entire body radiating defeat.

No. No. Not Starsky with his quicksilver charm. Huggy’s heart began to beat faster. He’d been so certain Hutch would rescue him. Damn.

“Hutch.” Huggy pretended his voice didn’t break when he said the name. Knew he’d have to be strong for his friend.

Hutch looked up at him, eyes wide and looking bruised with fatigue. A smile appeared, a glimpse of sunshine, and then disappeared. “He’s… they’re running some tests right now. Kicked me out.”

Huggy sank down onto the seat, his knees feeling as if they were bending the wrong way. “I thought our man didn’t make it.”

Hutch ran a hand through his hair. “It was close, Hug. They were going to…” He shook his head, his voice gone hoarse.

Huggy noted the way Hutch’s hands trembled, post adrenaline jitters maybe, or fear for what might have been, what had been too close a call. Then he noticed something else.

He took a gentle hold of Hutch’s right hand. “Looks like you need some cleaning up.”

“Huh?”

“Busted up knuckles.” Huggy pointed at the dried blood on broken and black and blue skin. “Bruises.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hutch’s attention wandered, and he looked towards a closed door.

“He in there?” Huggy asked. “How long?”

“What time is it?” Hutch asked, his eyes never leaving the door.

“Just past ten.” Huggy glanced at the very prominent clock on the wall across from them.

Hutch pulled his hand away, his whole body tensing before he stood up and began to pace. “I need to call. Need a phone.”

“How about we ask at the nurses’ station? They can tell us where to find one.” Huggy stood in front of Hutch, forcing him to stop.

Hutch tapped his own forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“May have been preoccupied with our mutual friend,” Huggy said, and steered Hutch in the right direction.

He made plans as they walked down the hall—a quiet word to a nurse to have Hutch’s hand looked at, round up some food and something other than coffee to drink, so Hutch could get some sustenance, considering Hutch had thrown up the little he’d eaten during the long night in Dobey’s office, and finally, a blanket to tuck Hutch into and hopefully allow him some rest.

Not that Blondie would rest until someone gave him the word on Starsky. A man could hope, though.

Huggy kept one eye on Hutch as he motioned to one of the nurses.

“He came in with his partner,” Huggy whispered. “He got his hand all messed up saving him.”

The nurse, an older gray-haired woman who could have passed for his auntie, smiled and patted Huggy’s hand. “He wouldn’t let us tend to him earlier. We’ll see to it as soon as he’s done on the phone.”

“Yes. I understand. Thank you. No. Nothing yet.” Hutch hung up the phone and stood with his hands braced on the counter, his breath coming out in strong puffs, his shoulders hunched, his head down.

“Hutch.” Huggy rested his hand on Hutch’s back—the shirt dampened with sweat and heat.

“Nine consecutive life terms for murder. Add in time for kidnapping and now Starsky. He’ll never see the outside of a prison again.” Hutch finally turned to look at him, his face too pale, his lips gone bloodless.

Huggy moved to grip his shoulders and raised his voice. “We need a wheelchair.”

“Don’t give out on me now,” he told Hutch, who dropped into the wheelchair the nurse brought without a word.

“We’ll take care of him,” she said to Huggy, and whisked Hutch away.

He wondered what it meant that he knew nearly every inch of Memorial—that he could find his way unerringly to the cafeteria and knew the best food, that he knew the floor the ICU was on, that he was more familiar with the waiting room than his cousin’s newest apartment. He rubbed his hands and set the next part of his plan into action.

Huggy glanced up from the food and drink he’d arranged on the table to see Hutch walking towards him, knuckles wrapped in a white bandage, and his steps more steady than they’d been since Huggy arrived.

“Mighty fine,” Huggy said, as Hutch sat down with a sigh. “What’s the damage?”

“Bruised, cut. Not broken.” Hutch accepted the bottle of orange juice Huggy handed him.

Huggy followed Hutch’s gaze as he glanced towards the closed door of Starsky’s exam room.

“No word? Maybe I should…” Hutch started to get up, the juice forgotten.

“You should eat. Obviously, this repast can not compare to the culinary delights of my establishment, but it’ll do. Drink. Eat.”

To his relief, Hutch took a healthy swig of the juice and, without complaining, took the half of a turkey sandwich put in his other hand.

Huggy unwrapped the burger he’d gotten for himself and took a bite. Adequate, but not as good as one he would have made.

The last bite of the turkey sandwich dropped out of Hutch’s hand as the door opened and a doctor came out, headed towards them. Hutch stood up, heedless of the mustard now staining his pants.

“Detective Hutchinson. I’m Doctor Madison.”

“How is he? What took so long?”

Huggy rose, stood slightly behind Hutch, the place where Starsky would have stood had he been able.

“Let’s sit down,” Doctor Madison said.

Hutch stood despite the doctor sitting, and Huggy tugged at his arm.

“Listen to the man. He’s been dealing with Starsky all this time. He deserves a break.”

Hutch grunted but sat.

“Detective Starsky will be fine. He’ll need some time to recover—has two broken ribs, bruises, some burns on his torso and face, and his wrists are abraded from being tied. He was dehydrated, and he told us they gave him some kind of emetic.”

“Emetic?” Huggy asked when Hutch curled his hands into fists. “A drug?”

“Something to make him vomit. Most likely ipecac syrup, considering how quickly he told us it worked.”

“I want to see him,” Hutch said, and Huggy wondered how much of the doctor’s report he’d taken in.

“We’re moving him to a room.” Doctor Madison held up his hand. “Precaution only. We’d like to monitor his condition overnight. As long as nothing else shows up, he’ll go home tomorrow. You can go up to the third floor. He’ll be in room 323.”

“Thank you,” Huggy said and shook the doctor’s hand when Hutch made no effort to do so and strode off towards the elevator. “You’ll have to forgive his partner. He’s not usually so rude.”

Madison smiled. “Detective Starsky kept asking about him, but we needed to be able to work without him there.”

Huggy had no trouble imagining what it must have been like when Starsky arrived at the ER along with Hutch. Doctor Madison must have had balls of steel to kick Hutch out of the room. He took a few minutes to clean up the debris from their lunch and then took the elevator to the third floor.

He stood just inside the doorway of room 323. Not to his surprise, Hutch sat by the bed, Starsky’s right hand cradled between both of his.

“Huggy.” Starsky sounded weak, but surprisingly alert.

Huggy took the few steps closer to the bed.

Starsky’s face was pale but for the burn on his cheek, smeared with some sort of ointment. He didn’t appear to be in too much pain, although Huggy suspected the IV going into his arm had something to do with that.

“My man,” Huggy said. He touched Starsky’s shoulder, smiled as he felt solid flesh beneath the cotton.

Hutch looked up then, as if he finally noticed Huggy had come into the room. His eyes were a brilliant blue now, the color of the Caribbean sky Huggy remembered from childhood visits, not the bleak color they’d been in Dobey’s office. “Thank you.”

Huggy raised his eyebrows. “You’re welcome?” It came out as a question. His Momma Junie would have smacked him for the perceived rudeness.

Hutch smiled again, fleeting but a glimpse that things were on their way to being right in his world once more. “You solved it. You were the one who put the clues together. And I never…” He stopped to swallow hard and look at Starsky before taking a deeper breath and continuing. “I never said thank you.”

“In that case,” Starsky added. “I’ll say thanks too. Guess the big lug here wouldn’t have figured it out on his own.”

Huggy knew Starsky meant it as a way to bring a bit of levity to the ordeal—to make Hutch smile even briefly—but he saw Hutch’s shoulders slump a bit more, the burden of the past horrific day and night weighing on him. “He caught what I was putting down. Team effort.”

Starsky gave a miniscule nod. Message received and understood. “Thank you both, then. And Cap’n Dobey too.”

“Always a pleasure, gentlemen,” Huggy said and tipped an imaginary hat. “Some of us have a business to run. I’d better be seeing to it.”

Huggy felt trapped by Hutch’s intense gaze.

“I meant it,” Hutch said. “Every word. I meant it.”

“I know.” Huggy squeezed Hutch’s shoulder gently as he passed by. “I meant it too.”

Hutch nodded, his attention already back on Starsky, who closed his eyes.

Huggy left the room, unable to resist turning back to see his friends one more time. Hutch had lowered his head to the bed, Starsky’s right hand still clasped in his, while Starsky stroked Hutch’s hair with his left hand.

He couldn’t hear what Starsky said, but he noticed Hutch’s shoulders heave once, twice as if he were letting out long needed emotion. Huggy turned away. Some things another person wasn’t meant to see.

He walked down the hall towards the elevator, whistling softly. Today was going to be splendid.