Timepieces

980

Hutch and Huggy take care of a sick Starsky.

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That incessant sound. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock… it was the only sound he heard in the dark, quiet bedroom. Except, of course, for the silent wheeze of his friend as he slept fitfully in his bed, the blankets pulled up around his neck. He couldn’t fully explain his friends’ near obsession with clocks, watches, timepieces of all types. Well, truth be told, he really could. His friends’ dad had started it all by giving his son his very first wristwatch that was much too big for his small wrist. It was at that moment he became a man. As much as the son revered his father, you’d think he’d given him the sun, the moon and the stars, and the son spent the rest of his life showing off the watch and sharing memories of his father to anyone and everyone who would listen. The love and admiration for the man shone in his eyes, even though the man died all too soon and his young son was forced to grow up fast without the man he idolized to show him the ways of the world. All his son had left of his dad were vague memories, but he clung to them for the rest of his life. And when the precious gifts’ heart finally gave out, he kept it in a special place in a drawer in his bedroom, taking it out every once in a while to touch, lovingly, when he NEEDED to remember… when life seemed impossible to deal with and he needed to be reminded of a sweeter time… when life was easier… simpler.

Hutch sat back in the chair that sat close to the bed and sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes. He’d made it about halfway through the paperback in his lap so far and his eyes were paying the price. He dreaded the possibility – probability? – of having to succumb to glasses someday. A street cop with bad vision WASN’T a good thing…

He peered through blurry eyes down at the sleeping form on the bed with a deep affection and smiled to himself, tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. He’d been here all night, keeping watch over his best friend and partner; Starsky had been struck down the day earlier with a horrid bout of the flu that caught him totally off guard. He’d felt fine that morning. They’d been driving their beat, the streets of Bay City, when Starsky had to pull off to the side, a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness overtaking him. Hutch had taken over the driving, switching seats with his sick friend, logging them out at headquarters and had driven them straight to Starsky’s place, where they’d been ever since. Hutch had barely gotten his friend out of the car and up the stairs into his house before Starsky ran to the bathroom, losing the lunch they had just eaten. Hutch thought at first they’d gotten hold of some bad burgers and Starsky had the beginnings of food poisoning, but putting a hand tenderly to his friends’ forehead, he found Starsky was burning up, and his eyes were blurred and bloodshot red. And Hutch himself had felt fine, no problems with HIS lunch.

Quickly getting him out of his clothes and into his favorite navy blue pajamas, Hutch practically had to force an unwilling Starsky into his bed, who all the while insisted he was fine and they should get back to work. Of course, Starsky was shivering violently the entire time as Hutch pulled the blankets up over his friends’ arms.

“Ah Ah! Don’t move!” he’d ordered, wide-eyed, pointing his finger as he picked up the phone on the nightstand to call Captain Dobey and inform him of their situation. Dobey understood completely, he’d known his two best detectives for a number of years now and had come to consider them as family. He knew they lived for their jobs and would never “skip” work for no good reason. Starsky MUST be sick, and he knew only his best friend Hutch could take care of him.

“Take all the time you need.” Dobey had said. “I’ll take your names off the roster. Just keep me informed.”

“You got it, Cap. Thanks.” Hutch grinned into the phone.

“And Hutch,” Dobey added, more soberly. “If you think he needs to be in the hospital, don’t hesitate.” Dobey knew all that Starsky had been through this past year and knew he was still gaining his strength from the poisoning. Something as simple and unassuming as the flu could really be a setback for him. Starsky’s immune system had been severely affected, and he took ill constantly the whole year.

“Right.” Hutch muttered as his smile faded.

Setting down the received, he glanced back at his friends’ pale face, sweat now pouring down it. He was teetering between chills and fever, that wasn’t good. Hutch had pulled the shades and plunged the room into darkness, even though it was mid morning, and pulled a chair up to the bed to sit, never leaving his friend.

Starsky wasn’t quite asleep, his teeth were chattering as he tried to speak.

“Hu… Hu…” was all he could get out as he pleaded with glazed blue eyes. Hutch sat on the edge of the chair, closer to the bed.

“‘s okay, buddy, Hutch is here.” he soothed, smiling warmly as he pushed back damp curls from Starsky’s’ forehead. Damn. He was still burning up…

“I’m here with you, I won’t leave. Hey, Dobey said to get better, orders.” he added, pulling the blankets up once again, as Starsky had thrashed around while Hutch was on the phone.

“Hutch, I feel lousy.” Starsky finally admitted in a whisper, his teeth chattering.

“I know, babe, you’re sick. But we’re gonna’ get you through this, I promise.” Hutch said, a gentle hand to the side of his partners’ face.

“I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay?” he asked, getting up from the chair. But Starsky had just turned over onto his side with a groan, his back to Hutch.

Hutch stood, hands on hips, frowning down at his sick friend. Making his way to the bathroom, he gathered up some supplies he knew might help, a thermometer, a wet washcloth, some aspirins and a glass of water.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found Starsky nearly asleep, coughing hoarsely and moaning from the pain.

“Hey, you okay, Gordo?” Hutch asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on Starsky’s’ shoulder to turn him onto his back again.

Tears were streaming down his face to blend with the trails of sweat pouring down.

“Hutch…” he moaned, his voice catching.

“Aw, babe…” Hutch sighed heavily. “I know, but you’ve got to ride this out.” Hutch thought for a moment, biting his lip. “Starsk, if you want to go to the hospital, I’ll take you there right now, just say the word…”

“NO!” Starsky’s’ raspy voice shouted, although it sounded more like a whisper, fear shining in his eyes as he weakly reached out to grab Hutch’s’ wrist. “Please, no, just you… here… please.” he begged.

“Okay, okay.” Hutch reassured him with a pat on his hand. “No hospital, we’ll try getting you better our way.” He produced the aspirins and water, setting the thermometer and washcloth on the nightstand.

“Here, take these for me.” he ordered, helping Starsky to sit up enough to drink from the glass he held for him. “Easy.” he directed, knowing his friend had nothing left in his stomach and didn’t want him vomiting up the pills that may speed up his recovery.

Helping him to lie back down and rearrange the pillows more comfortably behind his head, Hutch leaned over and picked up the thermometer, setting the glass in its’ place.

“Open up, buddy,” he said, setting the thermometer under Starsky’s’ tongue. “Now shut up.”

Starsky managed a weak smile, trying hard to keep his eyes open. Hutch was becoming blurry in front of him the longer he tried to stay awake. He was fighting a losing battle…

He didn’t even realize Hutch had removed the thermometer…

“Hmm… ” Hutch frowned, peering at the thermometer in the darkness. It was high, a lot higher than he wanted to see. 104.5…

“We’ve got to get your fever down, babe.” he sighed, grabbing the washcloth to set on Starsky’s’ forehead, gently pushing aside the brown locks plastered there.

“Feels good…” Starsky mumbled through trembling lips, as he was still shaking. It was weird, being hot and cold at the same time. It’d been a long time since he’d been THIS sick. And it had come over him so quickly. There was no warning when he’d left home that morning, except for a constant headache he had and couldn’t shake. He just thanked God he’d had Hutch to take such good care of him. He knew he could never survive this on his own…

“… go see if you’ve got any soup in the kitchen.” Hutch had been speaking, but Starsky’s’ ears were so closed, and he was in another world as everything hummed and echoed around him.

“Mmm…” Starsky mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Be right back…” Hutch whispered, patting his partners’ chest.

“Not goin’ nowhere.” Starsky’s voice slurred.

Hutch stopped in the doorway and turned to face Starsky. The scene was indeed a sad one, Starsky was drawn up into a ball under the covers, shaking and now beginning to wheeze. Great, Hutch thought bitterly, it’s gonna’ settle in his lungs. If that happens, we’re heading to the hospital, he decided. No arguments, no deals.

Hutch couldn’t believe it, he’d gone through every cupboard in the kitchen – there was nothing anywhere to be of any help to Starsky, not a tea bag, not a cracker, not a can of soup in sight. Nothing. Starsky was a true bachelor. There was absolutely zilch. The thought crossed Hutch’s’ mind – had Starsky been eating ANYTHING lately?

“Jesus, Starsk…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he slammed the last cupboard door shut a bit harder than he’d meant to. Holding his breath, he listened for any noise coming from the bedroom, but was met with silence. Maybe, if luck was finally on their side, Starsky would have let the aspirins do their job and would be fast asleep.

Hutch knew he wasn’t THAT lucky.

Picking up the wall phone in the kitchen, Hutch dialed a familiar number.

“Hey, Hug, it’s Hutch.” he smiled. “You busy?”

“Not as of yet, my man, dinner crowds won’t be in for a few hours yet. Whatcha’ need?” their long time friend asked, tapping a pencil absentmindedly on the bar.

Hutch went on to explain about Starsky’s’ sudden illness. “Whatcha’ got cooking that’s hot and guaranteed to beat the flu?” Hutch asked, leaning against the wall, rubbing his forehead. He was already feeling tired, but knew he had a long road ahead of him, when Starsk was back on his feet.

“Hey, how about some of Huggy’s special soup for our ailing friend?” Huggy asked.

“Uh, Hug, I don’t think I can get your Aunt Minnie’s mustard greens soup down him without ME ending up WEARING it eventually… Hutch began warily, recalling the time Starsky went into the drink for Hutch and ended up with a bad cold. Hug had offered the infamous green soup then…

“Never fear, Hutch, Doctor Bear is here.” Hug laughed into the phone. “I’ll have Diane and Anita whip up some good ol’ fashioned chicken soup and herbal tea for Starsk. Bring some oj, too. Gotta’ build up Starsky’s’ strength.”

“Thanks, Hug.” Hutch smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Always. And Hutch?” Huggy added. “I’ll bring along some goodies for yourself. If you’re at Curly’s place, it’s a safe bet there’s nothing there for YOU but Cocoa Puffs and nasty year old frozen burritos.”

“Bless you, Huggy!” Hutch chuckled. He hadn’t really eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch and was starting to get really hungry.

“Be there soon as I can, Hutch. You need anything else?”

“Can’t think of anything right off hand, Hug, but it I come up with anything, I’ll try to catch you before you leave. And Hug? Thanks again.” he added, sincerely.

“No problemo, Hutchie, no problemo.” Huggy waved him off, ending the conversation with the click of the telephone.

Hands deep in his pockets, Hutch slowly made his way around the house that had become his second home, picking up items here and there, photos of the two of them, knickknacks they’d bought on vacations together… poking his head into the bedroom every once in a while to check on his friend. Starsky was finally asleep again, still wheezing but at least he was still, not thrashing around like he had been.

Hutch sighed, leaning in the doorway. He caught sight of something shimmering lying on the dresser. Quietly, he made his way over to it, cringing at the creaking in spots.

But Starsky still slept, oblivious to the sounds. Hutch didn’t want to wake his friend with any noises.

Hutch picked up the watch that lay atop the dresser, Starsky’s precious $250 Yamamoto watch. Well, truth be told, it was Yamamoto, Jr. The second. The first, original watch had bit the dust when they had been lured into the trap at the barn outside the city, just a few short months earlier. Hutch had to use the watch as a distraction in order to save his life, and the watch had given IT’S live when it was shot in the line of duty. Starsky was horrified to see his precious watch destroyed. At first, Hutch thought it was hilarious, but after seeing his best friend so upset over his loss, Hutch went out and purchased another Yamamoto watch as a gift. Even had it engraved. “A friend always has the time… love always, Hutch.” Okay, maybe a bit soapy, Hutch shrugged, but appropriate. Besides, he DID feel bad about the death of Starsky’s’ watch. He knew how important timepieces were to him. And Starsky treated this watch from his best friend with as much reverence as the watch his father gave him.

Hutch gently fingered the watch, checking the inscription on the inside that was slightly worn, thanks to Starsky wearing it each and every day. Hutch ran his thump over the engraving with a smile. A friend always has the time…

The doorbell chime brought him out of his reverie with a start. Snapping his head up, he held his breath as he saw Starsky turn over in bed, from his right side to his left, finally coming to face the bedroom door, although thankfully still fast asleep. Hutch let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He glanced at the watch; had it really been two and a half hours since he’d talked to Huggy?

Without thinking, Hutch slipped the watch over his wrist to rest next to his own watch and raced out of the room to slide to a stop in front of the door, trying to catch the visitor before they rang the doorbell again. He didn’t want anything waking his best friend.

“Hug! Shut the hell up!” he admonished as he opened the door with a whoosh before he even knew who was at the door. Had to be Huggy, though.

And Huggy it was. Hug’s eyebrows rose in question before he glanced at the doorbell and realized what Hutch was getting at.

“Sorry, m’man.” he apologized, coming into the living room, his hands full of sacks. “I wasn’t thinking. Did I wake him?” he asked, frowning, his voice dropping in volume.

“No. Sorry, Hug.” Hutch sighed, taking one of the sacks from Huggy. “Didn’t mean to snap, it’s just that he finally dropped off. He’s really hurtin’.” Hutch’s voice dropped off as he looked up longingly towards the bedroom door. “He slept through the night, but he tossed and turned a lot.”

“C’mon, Blondie.” Huggy directed. “Let’s get this food into the kitchen.” Hutch had to admit, everything smelled great. His stomach growled in agreement. Hug smiled up at Hutch at the sound.

Hutch shrugged with a tilt of his blond head as he smiled sheepishly. “Whadja’ bring?”

“Let’s see, the girls sent some of their homemade chicken soup for Curly. When they heard Starsk was down for the count, they jumped on it right off, left me to tend to the lunch crowd, can you believe that?” Hutch laughed at the picture in his mind.

“If they weren’t so damned lovely and good for business, I told ’em they’d be in the unemployment line. Lucky for them I have a soft heart.”

“Lucky for us all.” Hutch smiled softly. “Thanks for coming, Hug. I didn’t know how I was gonna’ go out and get some food for him, I couldn’t leave him all alone here…” his voice trailed off as he once again turned towards the bedroom door.

Huggy’s eyes flicked between his blond friend and the bedroom. Clearing his throat, he went on.

“Yeah, well… I also brought some special tea, my Aunt Minnie’s special blend – don’t worry, no mustard greens and no funny stuff in it. But guaranteed to bring Curly around. And for good measure, good ol’ fashioned oj, freshly squeezed by yours truly and these two magic hands.” Hutch smiled. “You thought of everything, Hug.”

Huggy held his hand up. “There’s more. In bag numero two, I stopped on the way over at the pharmacy and picked up some accoutrements for our sick one, cough drops, cough syrup, aspirins, the works.” he shrugged. Seeing the shine in Hutch’s’ eyes, yet the droop of his shoulders, he went on.

“Also in bag numero dos, I also stopped by the local health food store you frequent and picked up some God-awful looking items for vous. I don’t have a CLUE as to what’s in here, I just looked for things with the most amount of grass on top.” he made a face as he pulled out a number of Styrofoam containers filled with indescribable food. But Hutch lit up at the sight of them, he was ecstatic.

“Huggy! You did it, you picked my favorites, all of them!” his voice rose. “How’d you know?”

“Like I said, my man, I chose the worst looking slop I could find. Enjoy!” he smiled, holding out the containers to Hutch.

“This is great, Hug, just great!” he beamed, reaching for his wallet. “How much I owe you?” Huggy frowned.

“Hutch. You hurt my feelings, man.” he said, quietly. “Don’t.” he finished, holding up his left hand and patting Hutch’s hand with the other.

“Sorry, Hug.” Hutch smiled back, returning his wallet to his pocket. “I just want you to know how much I appreciate this. Me and Starsk. I can see what he say in you a long time ago..” Hutch’s’ voice dropped off, thinking back to the early days together, when Starsky first introduced his new partner to his old friend Huggy Bear. But Hutch and Huggy were wary of each other at first, but both men knew if each were friends with Starsky, the other man had to be okay. Starsky was a good judge of character. When you were part of Starsky’s life, you were a friend for life, and Starsky would fight to hell and back to protect you… a friend always had time…

A hand on his shoulder brought Hutch back to the present. On impulse, Hutch leaned over and pulled Huggy into a strong embrace.

“Thanks, Hug.” he whispered as he clung to the thin black man who returned the hug.

“It’ll be okay, Hutch.” Huggy whispered back, patting Hutch’s’ back. Hutch stepped back, “I know, I know…” he sighed, rubbing his forehead where a dull headache was building.

“C’mon, let’s get some soup into Curly before it gets cold. And you look like you could use some sprouts.” Huggy grinned.

Hutch pulled away, slightly embarrassed. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never hugged Huggy. There had never been a need to. But it felt as normal as hugging his best friend…

“You’re right, it’s time I checked in on him, anyway. It’s been too quiet.”

“Starsky? Quiet?” Huggy asked, wide-eyed as he pulled out a bowl from the cupboard. “Whoa, Curly MUST be sick!”

Hutch chuckled, grabbing a spoon to pour some of the soup into the bowl that Huggy held. “Um, smells great! Starsky may have to share!” Hutch grinned, his head over the steaming liquid.

“My girls ARE good…” Huggy laughed.

When they quietly entered the dark bedroom, they could hear the heavy breathing of Starsky as he slept.

“Man, that’s settled in his lungs.” Huggy whistled softly. “That ain’t good…”

“That’s what I thought.” Hutch frowned.

Starsky lay asleep, facing the doorway, curled up into a ball, the blankets up around his neck as sweat glistened on his ghostly white face. He was so pale. Hutch had left a small light on in the corner of the room the last time he checked in on his sick friend, and it cast a soft glow in the otherwise dark room. Starsky was moaning in his sleep and frowned at something he was probably dreaming. Hutch figured the aspirins must be wearing off by now.

Huggy stared wide-eyed at his curly haired friend as he sat on the edge of the bed. If at all possible, Starsky looked worse than Hutch when he’d had the plague a short time not long ago. He thought Hutch looked bad in the hospital at that time… the hospital. Huggy had a bad feeling that Starsky should be there right now.

Hutch ignored the look that he knew Huggy was giving him. He knew what Hug was thinking. Hospital.

But Huggy’s gaze was firm. “Hutch…” he began.

“I know, Hug.” Hutch interrupted, looking up from where he sat on the bed next to Starsky’s’ back. His eyes shone down to his soul; he was so tired, after being up with Starsky for a day and a half. Huggy was glad he’d thought to bring Hutch a number of prepared meals from the health food store, Hutch was going to need all the strength he could muster the next few days. Huggy could tell this was no run of the mill flu, especially for Starsky, especially after the year he’d had so far, with the poisoning and all.

Hutch went on, sounding so very tired. “We covered that. He’s pretty adamant, NO hospital…” he sighed, setting the bowl of soup on the nightstand next to the bed. Rubbing his sore eyes, he ran his hand down his face, feeling the day old stubble on his chin. “Don’t worry, though. It gets bad enough, he’s going whether he likes it or not.” he finished, determined.

Huggy nodded agreeably. “I’ll help you drag him.” he offered, bringing a grin to Hutch’s’ face.

“Hey, buddy…” Hutch turned his attention to Starsky, gently shaking his shoulders. “Wake up, you’ve got a visitor.”

It took Starsky a minute to wake fully, groaning as he tried to brush away Hutch’s’ hand. He wanted to sleep. He didn’t feel the pain in his head and stomach as bad when he was asleep. It hurt too much to be in the land of the living.

“Hush?” his voice slurred as he tried to open his burning, tired eyes to his surroundings.

“It’s me, buddy.” Hutch soothed. “Huggy’s here, he brought you some chicken soup. The girls made it ‘specially for you.”

Starsky peered through one open eye at a blurry Huggy Bear on the bed next to him.

“Hey, Hug.” he tried to sound pleased, but at the moment, he just wanted sleep. Pain free, blissful sleep.

“Smells good.” he lied, shivering under the blankets as he tried to turn over onto his back. The last thing he’d wanted was food, his stomach would rebel. “Tell Diane and Rita I said thanks.”

Huggy grinned. “‘kay, Starsky. I’ll tell Diane and ANITA.” he corrected for what seemed like the hundredth time since the auburn haired, dark skinned beauty had started working for him at The Pits. Starsky could never seem to get her name right, but it didn’t bother her much anymore. Starsky had soon come to endear himself to her, the Starsky charm once again working its’ magic on her. As far as she was concerned, Starsky could call her anything he wanted, as long as he called her…

“Doesn’t matter anyway, Curly.” Huggy went on, standing p from the bed and bending over at the waist. “YOU can than them yourself when you’re better. You take care of yourself, and listen to Hutch.” he ended seriously, wagging his pointed finger at Starsky and then up to Hutch, enunciating the last three words. “Capice?”

Starsky chuckled as much as he dared, frowning at the sudden pounding in his head. “You got it, Hug.” he whispered back as he shivered under the covers.

“‘kay, bud.” Huggy whispered back, impulsively setting his hand tenderly in Starsky’s’ damp curls, something he’d never done before. “I’ll check back on ya’ later.”

Hutch walked Huggy to the door. “He’s really hot, Hutch, what’s his temp?” Huggy frowned.

“Last I checked, about 104.5.” Hutch sighed. Huggy whistled softly. “Too high.”

“I’m trying to bring it down with cool rags, but the meds you brought should help a lot. Thanks for taking the time to come over, I really appreciate everything…” Hutch smiled tiredly.

“You gotta’ ask?” Huggy smiled back. “A friend always has the time. Speaking of time, what’s with the two time zones?” he asked, pointing at Hutch’s’ arm. “You thinking of hittin’ the streets soon hawking fake Rolexes?”

Hutch looked down at his wrist as though he’d grown a third arm. He’d forgotten all about sliding Starsky’s’ Yamamoto onto his wrist when Hug had arrived earlier.

Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Yeah, can you recommend a good street corner?”

“Not by my place.” Huggy clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That’s illegal. Blondie, you need some rest. You need anything, anything at all, you call me. Hell, call even if you DON’T need anything.” he ordered. Hutch nodded slowly as their eyes met.

Huggy extended his arms and pulled his friend into another embrace. “It’s gonna’ be all right, Hutch.” he said encouragingly. “But if you need to get him to a hospital, DO it. Don’t listen to Curly, he can be stubborn as a mule, and will probably be pissed as hell at you, but he’ll get over it.”

Hutch embraces Huggy tightly. “I don’t know what Starsk and I would do without your friendship, Hug. I mean it.” he whispered. Before he let go, he added softly, “Hey, send up a prayer, huh? After all he’s been through this year, I can’t lose him now.” his voice cracked.

Huggy pulled away with a hand to the back of Hutch’s’ neck. “Already taken care of.” he grinned. “Don’t worry, he’ll pull through.” he said over his shoulder as he strode out the door. “Curly ALWAYS pulls through. Like I said, he’s too stubborn…”

Hutch chuckled as he closed the door behind his friend, leaning against it with closed eyes.

He stood like that for a minute, two minutes, listening to Huggy drive away before he heard the clock on the wall chime six, seven times. No wonder he was hungry, the afternoon had turned into evening and he hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. Hutch fingered the second watch on his wrist. Time was funny, how fast it could fly… suddenly Hutch’s’ thoughts turned to another point in their lives when time meant everything. Not long ago, earlier this year in fact, when Starsky was poisoned by Bellamy, that slime ball Bellamy who’d broken into Starsky’s’ house, this very house Hutch stood in, and set off a 24 hour nightmare that very nearly ended in tragedy. Hutch almost lost his best friend to a slow, painful death. Hutch had begged like he’d never begged before for time to slow down, come to a screeching halt if possible, so they’d have more time to search for the antidote to the poison running through Starsky’s’ system. They’d almost run out of time then… and Hutch was dying along with his best friend a minute, an hour at a time…

A low moan from the bedroom snapped Hutch back to the present. The soup… he should get his friend to eat something to build his strength if he intended to fight this bug.

Rounding the corner, Hutch slipped Starsky’s’ Yamamoto off his wrist and set it gently back into it’s place on the dresser and moved to sit on the bed next to Starsky, now lying on his right side, facing Hutch.

“Hey, buddy, feel like trying some chicken soup? It’s still nice and hot and the girls made it just for you.” Hutch reminded him. He was playing his guilt card, but he had one yet up his sleeve. “If you don’t at least try some, I’ll call your mother.” There. There was the proverbial ace up his sleeve.

Starsky eyed Hutch angrily. “You wouldn’t…” he growled.

Hutch reached for the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. Starsky lashed out a trembling hand from under the blankets and weakly grabbed Hutch’s’ wrist to stop him.

“Oh, but I would.” Hutch said determined, an eyebrow raised.

“Hutch..” Starsky began to whine, his voice turning hoarse by now. “It’ll just come right back up, please don’t make me eat…” he begged.

Hutch looked deep into his friend’s troubled eyes. “Starsk, I’d never MAKE you do anything unless I knew it was for your own good. Please, just a couple spoonfuls? For me? If you feel sick, just let me know and we’ll stop.”

“Promise?” Starsky asked timidly. He was so tired of throwing up, his stomach hurt so much…

“You got it, partner.” Hutch nodded. “Want to try to sit up a bit?”

Starsky nodded slowly. I hope you know what we’re doing, Hutchinson, he thought to himself as Hutch gently pulled Starsky to sit up against the pillows in front of the bed’s headboard. Starsky had to bring his knees up as his stomach hurt too much to stretch it out like that, with his legs out straight. Hutch understood and patted Starsky’s’ knees.

“Okay, partner, just a small spoonful to start.” he encouraged, holding out the spoon of soup over the bowl. Starsky felt like a child, being spoonfed like this. He hated feeling so vulnerable…

Starsky had to admit the chicken soup DID smell great. He made a mental note to thank Huggy’s’ girls in person the minute he was over this crud and up and about at The Pits. And this time, he’d make sure he got Anita’s name right…

He accepted one spoonful and swallowed carefully, Hutch eyeing him cautiously.

“Well? Another spoonful or no?” he asked.

“Give.” Starsky ordered. He was feeling lucky, despite the situation.

Starsky accepted a second spoonful, then another and another. Hutch smiled, he was glad that his sick friend was finally getting some desperately needed nourishment. He knew he’d owed Huggy big time for all of this.

Starsky made it through over half the bowl when he gestured he’d had enough. He WAS feeling lucky, but there was no reason to tempt fate…

“Atta’ boy, Starsk.” Hutch smiled proudly. You’d swear Starsky had just won an Olympic gold medal or something, Hutch was beaming so much.

“You feel okay?” he asked cautiously through his pride.

“So far, so good…” Starsky sighed. His forehead had once again began to break out in beads of sweat.

“Hang on.” Hutch said, getting up with the washcloth in hand, disappearing into the bathroom only to reappear with a freshly wrung cloth. Sitting carefully on the bed next to his friend, Hutch gently wiped Starsky’s’ face.

“Mmm…” Starsky moaned, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Feels good?” Hutch asked quietly.

Starsky nodded slowly. “Um hm. Thanks, buddy.”

“You’re welcome.” Hutch smiled back warmly. “Think maybe you could grab a few winks of sleep? You look pretty tired and rest would help you beat this thing.”

“YOU’RE helping me beat this thing.” Starsky sighed, reaching out to lay his hand tiredly onto Hutch’s hand. “But I AM tired.” Starsky tried to lie back onto the pillows Hutch plumped and turned over onto his side with a groan.

“Oh, my head…” he mumbled, frowning, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Those three words cut like a knife into Hutch’s’ heart. He was reminded of a time, not long ago, when he first heard his partner mutter those very words. The Italian restaurant. A night from hell. How he tried to explain to a bleeding, shocky Starsky what had happened, how they were ambushed and Starsky was shot. Twice. Losing blood fast. Again, time worked against them. Lousy time. Lousing timing. Had they been there an hour earlier or later…

Standing, Hutch dug into his front jeans pocket and pulled out the worn gold pocket watch he kept there. Talk about fascination with timepieces… one on his wrist (well, until a few minutes ago, TWO), and one in his pocket. But the one in his pocket was special. He rarely used it, that’s what the wristwatch was for. But the pocket watch was a gift, not from his father, as Starsky’s’ first watch was, this treasure was from his grandfather. The man he cherished more than life itself, well, other than the pale, sweaty, feverish mess that lie groaning in front of him…

When Hutch’s’ grandfather passed away so many years ago, Hutch was lost in life. Until he found his partner, his best friend. Starsky.

When they met at the academy, something clicked. Hutch had never felt such a bond like that before, not with any of his childhood friends. His grandfather was the only person in his life who’d meant so much to him. His family, his parents and siblings, of course, meant the world to him. He loved his mom, she was the best, and his dad, stoic as he was, stood behind his son, paying for the years at the academy, although Hutch knew he’d much rather be paying for law school. Hutch senior never cared for his son’s choice of profession, and made it clear to Hutch, but he never forbade him to follow his heart. He just prayed for his safety everyday.

So it was up to Hutch’s’ grandfather to help direct the young mans’ life, and Hutch revered the wise and caring old man. Hutch cherished the times they spent together, the hot summer days spent fishing side by side at the lake on the Hutchinson property in Duluth, the cold winter nights sitting at his grandfathers’ feet by the fireplace, listening to the endless stories that fascinated him and prepared the way for the young, somewhat confused boy.

Hutch smiled tenderly and rubbed the watch, pressing on the small knob to open the cover and reveal the face, the somewhat scratched crystal. He ran his finger over the aged timepiece. He remembered the day his grandfather gave him the pocket watch. It was shortly before the stroke that took his life. That took him from Hutch.

Hutch had cried when the old man gave him the watch, and again when he passed away. And he missed the dear old man each and every day since. Only Starsky’s’ friendship had filled the empty hole in his heart.

Hutch held the pocket watch to his heart and looked up through blurry eyes at a sleeping Starsky with a heavy sigh. The last time he’d pulled it out from his pocket was at the Italian restaurant, to set into Starsky’s’ shaking hands for Hutch’s’ big plan to get them out of the mess they’d gotten themselves into. He hadn’t opened it since he scooped it up off the floor of the office where Starsky had landed after tossing the pitcher against the wall, part of Hutch’s’ great plan. He looked closer at the watch – it turned his stomach to realize something he hadn’t noticed before. There was dried blood still on the watch. Starsky’s’ blood. Hutch swallowed hard, thanking the powers that be that nightmare was long over. And they’d made it out alive, especially his partner. Starsky may be down for the count again, but at least this time they could fight the enemy, there weren’t any God forsaken bullets and blood involved. Just a nasty bug that would take time to overcome.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Hutch put the watch back into the front pocket of his jeans and tapped it lovingly.

Starsky was wheezing again, asleep and dead to the world. At least Hutch got some nourishment into his sick friend. He hoped that would help to speed his recovery.

Hmm, nourishment. Hutch’s’ stomach was growling by now, gaining in volume. Time to dig into some of the goodies Huggy brought.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he made his way to the kitchen, pulling the bedroom door closed to a crack behind him. He wanted quiet for Starsk, so he could sleep, but also wanted to be able to hear in case he called out for Hutch.

Putting together one of the salads Huggy brought for him, he poured himself a coke and quietly made his way to the living room, turning a light on next to the sofa that he sank gratefully into. Thank God Starsky had good taste in comfortable furniture. The rest of the house was dark, as he noticed it was now about 8:15 and it was getting dark outside as the sun was setting and it was getting closer to autumn. Hopefully, he’d get a little more food into his ailing friend before he fell asleep for the night. But for right now, he turned his full attention to settling his stomach with a dinner of his own.

A half hour later, all was still quiet save for a few sneezes and coughs from the bedroom, and the creak of the mattress and Starsky tried to turn over, finding a comfortable position time after time.

Washing the rest of his salad down with the last swig of his coke, he leaned over and sat the dishes onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. Yawning, he leaned back in the cushions, propping his feet up alongside the dishes and interlaced his fingers behind his head, resting on the back of the couch. “I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.” he thought to himself, the last thought he’d had for a while.

The chiming of the wall clock woke him with a start. He found his arms were both tingling from lack of circulation and spent the next couple of minutes shaking his hands to bring back the blood. He blinked hard, trying to adjust his eyes to the now neat total darkness of Starsky’s’ house. From what he could tell, the clock had chimed ten. So much for resting his eyes for a few minutes… he couldn’t believe he’d fallen sound asleep for an hour and forty-five minutes! And Starsky…

Starsky. Hutch sat bolt upright on the sofa, his head pounding and leapt to his feet, forcing himself to wake up. He made his way quickly into the bedroom, pushing the door open.

Starsky was still asleep, but in his thrashing had once again kicked the sheets and blankets onto the floor. He lay on his stomach, precariously close to the edge of the bed, facing towards the windows, his left arm flopped onto the floor.

Hutch frowned as he leaned over and pulled and tugged at the mess of bedding at the foot of the bed.

“Starsk…” he muttered as he gently touched his friends’ leg before e set Starsky’s’ arm back under the covers that he replaced. Hutch sat carefully on the edge of the bed and rubbed Starsky’s back in a small circular motion.

“You’ll be okay, buddy. J’you miss me?” Hutch asked in a low voice. “Sorry I fell asleep for so long, but I’ll be here for you now, the rest of the night. You just keep sleepin’, buddy.” Hutch hesitated, a catch in his throat. He could feel the fever in Starsky’s’ body radiating through the blankets. “I… I love you, partner.”

Just as he began to stand up from the bed, he heard a small voice come from below the bedding. “Hutch? I love you, too.”

Hutch swung his head back to frown at the sleeping form. Or at least Hutch THOUGHT he was sleeping.

“Starsk? Did I wake you?” he asked, coming to sit back on the bed again.

“Naw,” Starsky yawned, rubbing his eyes. “I think the aspirins are wearing off. And I’m kinda’ thirsty. And I missed you…” his voice trailed off as he tried to turn over.

“Oh, my stomach…” he groaned, gripping Hutch’s’ hand.

“Here, let me help you.” Hutch offered, pulling on Starsky’s’ arms to help him into a more comfortable position. “Better?”

Starsky only nodded. At first he tried to avoid Hutch’s’ eyes, looking down to avoid his gaze. But Hutch tenderly lifted Starsky’s’ chin so their eyes die meet.

“You okay? Really?” Hutch asked.

“You… you never told me you loved me before.” Starsky smiled, his eyes filling with tears that threatened to overflow. “Not in so many words, anyway.”

“You neither.’ Hutch grinned back, smoothing the damp curls from Starsky’s’ forehead.

In that instant, both friends knew they didn’t have to say anymore. They never would again. Hutch pulled Starsky close into a tight hug, still feeling the heat radiating from his body. Starsky’s’ body now trembling, he wrapped his weak arms around Hutch, resting his head on Hutch’s’ shoulder. The tears began to fall soundlessly, soaking Hutch’s’ shirt.

“It’s okay, buddy, I’m here. Hutch is here.” Hutch soothed, holding Starsky close and gently rocking him back and forth. “It’s gonna’ be all right, I promise.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hutch.” Starsky whispered, shaking his head. “Thank you for always being here for me. Thank you for being my best friend…” he pulled back to look deep into Hutch’s’ eyes. Starsky’s’ dark lashes were wet with tears and he had tearstains running down his pale cheeks. His lips trembled ever so slightly.

Hutch smiled warmly back at him. “What are you thanking me for being your best friend?” he asked. “You know I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve always been my best friend, from the first day we met at the academy. And we always will be.” Hutch held Starsky back to look him directly into his eyes as Starsky rubbed the tears away. “Starsky, you need me. You’re sick and you need my help, and I wouldn’t be anywhere else but here, by your side. I hope you know that.” Hutch asked seriously.

Starsky nodded.

“And I know if the tables were turned…”

“… I’d be there for you, Blintz.” Starsky said, determinedly, nodding his head again. “I guess… I’m just amazed. I’ve never had a friend care about me so much before in my life. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve you…”

“You make me sound like a saint, Starsk.” Hutch laughed. “Guess you’re just lucky.” he shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

Starsky chuckled, his laugh soon turning into a coughing fit as he tried to catch his breath.

“Hang on!” Hutch shouted as he ran off into the kitchen to pour a glass of the orange juice Huggy had brought earlier.

“Here, drink this!” he ordered, breathless, rounding the corner to hand the glass to Starsky. “Slow…” he directed, keeping a hold on Starsky’s’ shaky hand as he held the glass and sipped at the liquid.

As the coughing fit subsided, Starsky handed the near empty glass to Hutch.

“You ‘kay?” Hutch asked. Starsky gave him a thumbs up.

“Thanks. Tastes pretty good.” Starsky took a deep breath and exhaled a wheeze.

“Thank Huggy. Says he squeezed it himself.” Hutch grinned, setting the glass onto the nightstand.

Starsky began coughing again. “By HAND!?” he asked, wide-eyed, between coughs. “God only KNOWS where those skinny little hands have been! You trying to heal me or kill me?”

Hutch tossed his head back and laughed out loud. “Aw, Starsk…”

“What?” Starsky frowned, his coughing fit once again subsiding.

“I’m so glad you’re my friend.” Hutch smiled, shaking his head and patting Starsky’s’ shoulder. “Let’s just say you make my life more… interesting.”

Starsky grinned back, blushing as he nervously toyed with the blanket up around his chest.

“You feeling better?” Hutch asked. “Wanna’ lie down again?”

Starsky shook his head. “Naw. I slept long enough for a while.” Starsky looked up suddenly, worry etched on his face.

“Where’s the Torino?” he asked, as if a terrible thought had just occurred to him.

“Settle down, the tomato is parked outside, it’s safe, it’s fine.” Hutch shushed him, not believing Starsky was so sick, yet concerned about his pride and joy.

“Can’t trust YOU to take care of the TORINO, Blintz.” Starsky corrected accusingly. But there was a glimmer in his eyes. He knew Hutch would take as good a care of his precious car as he was of Starsky himself.

“Okay,” Starsky conceded with a frown. “But first thing I’m up and outta’ here, I’m checking her over.” he waggled a finger at Hutch warningly.

“You do that, buddy.” Hutch smiled. “You want me to make you something to eat? Maybe some toast? Hug brought some special tea for you, too.”

Starsky shook his head. “First fresh squeezed oj, now special tea? I thought Huggy was my friend… naw, think I’ll wait, maybe I’ll feel like having that tomorrow morning, if I make it that long. But you’ll probably have to get back to work, won’t you?” he asked, worriedly.

Hutch shook his head. “Already cleared it with Dobey. I’m not leaving your side until you’re on your feet.”

Starsky smiled. “Thanks.” he whispered.

“So you’ll owe me big time.” Hutch shrugged. “Anyway, I still think you’re tired, I can see it in your baby blues. How about you take some more medication and we get you settled in. I know if you close your eyes, you’ll nod off. It’s late.”

“Okay,” Starsky agreed.

Suddenly, his face twisted a bit, his eyes squinting.

“What’s wrong?” Hutch asked, frowning.

“Gotta’ go to the bathroom.” Starsky announced, pulling the sheets away.

“You gonna’ be sick again?” Hutch asked nervously. He was hoping Starsky could keep something in him, he’d lost enough weight already as it was this year, and he was afraid Starsky would be dehydrated before too long.

“Naw,” Starsky shook his head as he shakily got to his feet. “Nature calls. Soup.” he explained with a tip of his head and a smile.

“Here, let me help you up.” Hutch offered, grabbing Starsky and pulling his arm around Hutch’s neck, putting his own arm around Starsky’s waist.

“Watch your back, Blintz.” Starsky warned as Hutch helped his friend make his way slowly to the bathroom, shuffling along the way. “Don’t want you throwing your back out carrying me.”

“You just worry about yourself, Gordo.” Hutch lifted an eyebrow as they shuffled along. “Sure you’ll be okay?”

Starsky stopped at the door and pulled away from Hutch’s’ death grip. “Yes, mother.” he said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “I think I can manage THIS on my own. Have for years.”

Hutch laughed and shook his head, patting Starsky on his back as he closed the door behind him. “Got get ’em, tiger.” he called after him. Hutch could hear Starsky’s’ chuckle on the other side of the closed door.

Gently touching the door, Hutch sighed and moved away to wander the bedroom, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He checked outside, peering through the blinds, and blinked the soreness from his tired eyes. At least he didn’t have to worry about work tomorrow. It was starting to rain out, raindrops gently hitting the window. He could see the tomato parked safely below on the street under the street light. He chuckled, remembering how Starsky worried about the stupid hunk of metal. Had he owned a beater like Hutch’s’, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about what happened to it. But he knew Starsky thought the world of his precious Torino and just loved giving him a hard time about it. Truth be told, Hutch DID like the stupid candy apple striped thing but he’d NEVER admit that to his partner. He’d never hear the end of it.

Turning away, he glanced worriedly at the bathroom door again before something propped up in the corner of the room caught his eye – Starsky’s’ guitar.

Hutch smiled as he carefully picked up the instrument and, propping his right foot up on the bed, set the guitar gently over his thigh and strummed it, checking the tuning. It was perfectly tuned, no great surprise there. What did amaze him (never ceased to) was the fact that even though his partner was prominently left handed, there were a scant few things he did right handed, and one of those was playing the guitar. Handy, since Hutch could always switch between playing his guitar at home and Starsky’s’ guitar here at his house with no string changes.

Hutch was so engrossed in picking out a simple tune to strum that he hadn’t noticed the bathroom door open or Starsky leaning against it. Stopping abruptly, he looked up to see Starsky once again sweating and looking even more pale than before. Surmising something else went on in the bathroom besides nature’s call, he immediately set the guitar down in the chair next to the bed and ran to grab up his friend before he hit the floor.

“Starsk?” his voice quivered nervously. “You ‘kay? What happened?”

“Don’t know…” Starsky answered in a whisper as he clung to Hutch. “One minute I was taking care of business, the next everything went blurry and I was losing my balance and grabbing onto the sink for dear life. Hutch, everything’s spinning and it’s making me sick, make it stop…” he begged as Hutch helped him back into bed, pulling the sheets and blankets up around his neck as by now, Starsky was once again shivering.

“I thought I was gettin’ better, but I think I feel worse now than ever…” he moaned, lying his head back onto the soft pillow. Sweat was pouring down his face again.

“Starsk…” Hutch began, laying his head on a very warm forehead. The fever was back in full force.

“Hutch, I know where you’re going with this, and NO, I’m still not goin’ to the hospital!” Starsky shouted as loud as his hoarse voice would allow. “Please, Hutch, you promised!” Fear shone in his eyes.

Hutch was at a loss. He didn’t want to upset his sick friend anymore than necessary, but was he making things worse by giving into Starsky’s’ wishes?

Just as Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed, the phone rang on the nightstand.

“What!?” he shouted angrily into the receiver. Who the hell would be calling at this late hour?

“You need to brush up on your phone manners, Hutchinson.” Dobey said brusquely.

Hutch’s eyes flew open. “Dobey.” he mouthed to Starsky, who merely rolled his eyes.

“Uh, sorry, Captain.” Hutch apologized. “I didn’t expect you to call so… late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just got home from work and wanted to check on you two. Did I wake him?” Dobey asked, lowering his voice as though Starsky could hear him through the phone.

Hutch smiled. “Naw, Cap, he’s awake. He was doing all right most of the day, but now the fever’s returned.”

“Yep.” Dobey sighed. “That’s how it always is for me when Cal and Rosie get sick. All hell breaks loose right at bedtime.”

Hutch chuckled at the thought of Starsky being compared to Dobey’s’ small children.

“Can I talk to him?” Dobey asked.

“Sure.” Hutch said, handing the phone to Starsky’s’ shaky hand. “Wants to talk to you.” he whispered.

Hutch listened to a one-sided conversation for the next few minutes, giving him time to observe his sick partner. Starsky was still pale, sweating and his eyes were at half-mast. But he seemed pleased to be talking to the man he looked upon as a second father. Starsky was doing his best to stay awake, listening carefully to what Dobey was telling him.

“Okay, Cap, I will. I promise. I’ll be back at work before you even miss me. Thanks, Cap.” he smiled as he handed the phone back to Hutch. The receiver weighed a ton in his hand.

“Great, now I’LL catch your germs!” Hutch smiled warmly, taking the receiver back.

“Goof.” Starsky coughed.

“Yeah, Cap, I’ll take good care of him. We’ll get him back on his feet before you know it. Yeah, okay, I’ll call you. And Cap? Thank you. I mean it.” Hutch finished solemnly before hanging up the phone.

Hutch barely got out a word before the phone rang again. He and Starsky stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“What is this, Grand Central Station?” Hutch asked, reaching for the phone.

“Maybe Cap forgot to say goodnight.” Starsky grinned through tired eyes.

“Hello?” Hutch answered, minding his phone etiquette this time. “Hug?”

Now it was Starsky’s’ turn to listen to the one-sided conversation. Apparently, Huggy was calling to check on Starsky’s condition before he turned in for the night. Hutch could hear the usual noises from The Pits in the background, sounded like a full crowd tonight. Even Starsky could hear, just a couple of feet away from the phone. He sighed, wishing he felt good enough to be spending a night there with Hutch instead of being sick and miserable here with Hutch having to babysit him.

Starsky hadn’t even realized Hutch had set the phone back, ending the conversation, and was staring at his friend. “Hey, you ‘kay?” he asked.

Starsky blinked hard and turned to see Hutch. “Um hm.” he sighed, coughing. “Hutch?”

“Yeah, bud?” Hutch asked.

“I’m sorry.” Starsky whispered, tears coming to his eyes as he reached out and touched Hutch’s’ hand.

“Hey, hey!” Hutch admonished, squeezing Starsky’s’ hand back. “I thought we covered all of this!”

“You should be at Huggy’s, not here with some sickie.” Hutch smiled, only Starsky could come up with a word like that.

“Babe, you KNOW there’s nowhere else I’d be but here with you. But I’ll tell you what, since you’ve got a case of the guilts about keeping me here, soon as you’re back on your feet you’ll owe me a dinner at The Pits, the WORKS.” Hutch grinned, pushing a stray curl from the warm forehead. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Starsky yawned.

“Deal.” Hutch nodded. “Anyway, you KNOW I’ll be catching this from YOU, and the tables will be turned next week…

Starsky frowned, as if suddenly realizing Hutch’s comment was true. They were close enough that they shared just about everything in their lives, sicknesses included.

“Sorry…” Starsky apologized again, pulling back away from Hutch as far as he could. Too little, too late…

“Hey!” Hutch admonished. “Don’t worry! I’ll double up on the Vitamin C, preventative medicine, you know? Besides, I never get as sick as you do…”

Starsky lifted an eyebrow. The plague?

“Okay, maybe ONE time I was a TAD sicker than you usually are.” Hutch agreed with a shrug. “But I’m healthier than you, I’m in much better shape.” he finished proudly.

“Oh, brother…” Starsky rolled his eyes with a yawn.

“C’mon, pal, you’re tired, you need some rest if you’re gonna’ get back to work before Dobey misses you.” Hutch ordered, quoting Starsky.

Hutch helped Starsky to lie back in the bed, nestled in the pillows once again.

“Hutch,” Starsky began. “As long as you’re gonna’ get sick anyway, would you mind…”

“… are you asking me to share your boudoir, Starsky?” Hutch teased with a wink.

“Aw, Blondie, you make it sound so sordid.” Starsky admonished, followed by a nasty sneeze.

“Eww…” Hutch crinkled up his nose. “THAT was disgusting. Here. Tissue. Blow.” he offered, holding the box on the nightstand out at arm’s length.

“Thanks.” Starsky said sarcastically.

“Welcome. Better?” asked Hutch.

“Much.” Starsky rubbed his tired eyes.

“Okay then, enough stalling, time for sleep. Gonna’ go get you some of the meds Huggy brought.”

“Hug brought me medicine, too?” Starsky asked, wide-eyed. “Wow, he went all out for me!”

“Of course he did. Starsk, contrary to popular belief, a lot of people care about you and want you to get better and back to your old irritating self.” Hutch explained the obvious.

“Yeah,” Starsky frowned. “Guess I take a lot of people for granted. Especially you.” he looked guilty through his tired eyes.

But Hutch waved him away. “Gordo, you ALWAYS take me for granted…”

“Hey!” Starsky began, sounding hurt.

Hutch only laughed. “Let me finish! I WAS gonna’ add that I wouldn’t have it any other way! You know I love taking care of you. Never HAD a dog of my own…”

“Hutch!” Starsky shouted as loud as his hoarse voice would allow after Hutch, who quickly disappeared into the kitchen and came back with some of the medicines Huggy had brought, the cough syrup, some aspirins and the cough drops.

After getting his sick charge all fixed up, aspirins and cough syrup downed, washcloth rewet and draped over the still-warm forehead, Hutch tucked Starsky in under the blankets and made his way around the house, checking the locks and turning off the lights.

Coming back to the bedroom, he found Starsky propped up on his elbows, with the washcloth now lying on his chest.

“Hey, lie back!” Hutch ordered. “And leave the washcloth on your forehead. You said it felt good, right?” he asked, replacing it as he pushed Starsky gently back down onto his bed.

“Yeah, it does.” Starsky agreed, swallowing hard as his throat was by now raw from him being sick. “Would you do me a favor, Hutch?”

“Sure, buddy, what is it?” Hutch leaned over his friend.

“Would you play something on the guitar for me?” he asked. “It sounds like it’s really raining harder out there now and I kinda’ want to drown out the thunder.”

Hutch knew Starsky disliked thunderstorms, the sound of the thunder unnerved him. And he wanted Starsky to get some much needed sleep tonight.

“You got it.” Hutch smiled, once again picking up the guitar from the chair and sat down, propping his feet up on the bed next to Starsky.

“Any requests from the captive audience?” he asked, strumming quietly.

“Don’t care.” Starsky yawned, beginning to drift off a the medicines began to take effect. “Somethin’ soft…”

Hutch began to play one of his own compositions, a soft, melodic song that he knew Starsky liked. The clear music echoed through the room, Hutch’s beautiful lilting voice settling Starsky.

As Hutch finished the song, still strumming random notes, Starsky propped open one eye.

“Hey, I know you probly’ need to go back home tomorrow to water your jungle and check your mail and stuff, but you’ll come back?”

“I’ll come back.” Hutch reassured him. “I’ll wait until you’re asleep in the afternoon before I leave. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Of course, Hutch had every intention of asking Huggy to stop by and keep an eye on Starsk until he got back – no way was he going to leave Starsky alone, asleep or awake.

“Will you have time to make me some toast and tea for breakfast before you leave?” Starsky asked hopefully, pulling the covers up around his neck as sleep overtook him before he could hear Hutch’s’ answer.

Hutch smiled warmly as his eyes moved slowly over to the dresser where the Yamamoto Jr. watch still lay, Hutch’s inscription still in his mind.

“Yeah, Starsk. I’ll have time. A friend always has the time…”

With that, the only sound remaining in the room was a soft guitar, Starsky’s’ even breathing and timepieces…