To Life

Starsky changes prospective on his recovery.

Posted on A03 under Ugerchucker.

Starsky watched the nurse leave and then tried to shift into a comfortable position while he waited for his evening pills to kick in.

Sometimes he liked this time of day. When all the appointments were over, no more visitors allowed and he could just lie in peace and think for a few minutes before the pills forced him into sleep. That was on nights when he didn’t have much to think about and the pain wasn’t intolerable.

Unfortunately tonight he had too much going on inside his head. He’d had his first appointment with the psychiatrist a few hours ago. He insisted he didn’t need to speak to one, but after suffering such a big trauma it was advised by one of his doctors to at least have one session. He’d agreed and spent most of the hour just talking about inane things like the weather and sports, but by the end of it she got him to admit his frustrations at all the set backs he kept suffering. If he wasn’t coming down with an infection, he was needing additional surgeries and then a week ago the dreaded pneumonia kicked in, which lost him a couple of weeks.

In short, he was fed up. Completely fed up of the whole circus show. The only advice the psychiatrist had was to change his prospective. To stop thinking about the set backs as failures and more as successes. The session ended then and she left him with that thought, suggesting he figure the rest out himself.

In his little window of clear thought, Starsky considered her words and thought back to the setbacks he’d had since the shooting.

He didn’t remember anything about the first infection, it had happened only a day after he came out of the coma. Hutch wouldn’t talk about it, saying only that he very nearly died again. The second one happened the day before he was released from the ICU. He didn’t remember too much about that one apart from feeling very hot and Hutch bathing his forehead with a cool cloth. After three attempts the correct antibiotic was found and he only had an extra four days in the ICU.

Infections hadn’t killed him. He had survived. A clear success.

Then there was the additional surgery. That had come about when a missed bone fragment, that had been happily nestled somewhere in Starsky’s chest area had decided to break loose and cause some internal bleeding. From that experience Starsky remembered a sharp pain and Hutch’s horrified, helpless face before being whisked off for emergency surgery.

And again, he survived. He’d lost a few days, but it was another success.

When the pneumonia hit, Starsky remembered thinking this had to be it, this was what was finally going to throw him off the precipice. His breathing had been so bad, there were talks of putting him on a respirator, but through pure stubbornness and the right breathing treatments Starsky was able to stay off the machine and away from the ICU. It had taken 2 weeks and he had only just come off the antibiotics that morning, but he’d beaten another illness into submission.

No matter what his body threw at him, he stood up to it and won. His body might continue to fail, but he had strong evidence that showed he’d fight back again. That thought made Starsky smile.

Thinking of things from another perspective also made him think of Hutch. What perspective did he have on things? While he wasn’t the one physically suffering, he was victim of the pain. He felt it emotionally and psychologically. He had been there through every setback and he remembered them all far better than Starsky. He’d seen Starsky delirious with fever, curled up in pain and struggling to breath. Every day he had to watch Starsky claw get back to health, all the while trying to put the man responsible away forever. He’d taken some time off at first, nearly 3 weeks, but he had to be back on the case. Needed to see Gunther pay.

Most of Hutch’s spare time was taken up with the impending trial, which sometimes included him bringing files with him on his visits. On more than one occasion he’d fallen asleep in the bedside chair, sending papers everywhere and waking up with a bad back.

Something else occurred to Starsky as he was thinking about his partner; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Hutch laugh. Properly laugh instead of those amused snorts he’d give when he was trying to be nice. He vaguely remembered Hutch smiling and twirling a nurse around when he first woke out of the coma and then excitedly reading reams of paper to him. His memory was fuzzy, but he was positive that had happened. He’d not seen that joyous Hutch since. He’d smile and try to lighten Starsky’s spirit, but he’d never laugh.

As the evening pills began to kick in, Starsky’s had a strong desire to make Hutch laugh again. To do something for him that would take the thunder cloud of doom from above his head and make him genuinely happy again. Something that would cheer them both up. A plan came to him and he just about managed to clumsily right it down on a piece of paper by his bed before he succumbed to the meds.

Hutch arrived at the hospital a few minutes before afternoon visiting hours. He did this every time so he could spend a little time catching up with the nurses, getting the lo-down on Starsky’s current condition and then have the full allotted time with his lover.

He’d worked all morning on the trial documents, only leaving his desk once to get some coffee and he expected to spend the rest of the evening working on them too. He’d decided against bringing the paperwork with him to the hospital as he knew how much Starsky hated it.

As he approached the nurse’s desk he noticed the ward seemed a little quiet. Normally they’d be a couple more nurses and at least one patient walking around.

“Hey Nancy.” Hutch greeted the small, blond nurse on duty. “Everyone on break?”

Nancy looked up from her file and smiled. “Hi Ken. Something like that. They’ve been invited to a party.”

“A party?” Hutch frowned “In the hospital?”

“A garden party. You’ve been invited too.”

Hutch gave a polite smile to hide his confusion. “Thanks, but I’d like to just visit Starsky.”

“Oh Dave’s already there. He’s waiting for you.”

Hutch was taken back. “He is?” While he’d taken Starsky outside a few times, they hadn’t been since before the pneumonia scare.

“It was his idea,” Nancy said, amused by Hutch’s confusion. “Just go out the back door and you’ll see it straight away.”

Still perplexed, Hutch thanked the nurse and made his way to the elevator. All the while he wondered why Starsky had organised a party in the garden, and what was it for? Someone’s birthday? A charity fundraiser?

His speculation stopped when he pushed open the back doors and spotted his partner.

Calling the gathering around the picnic bench a party was stretching the definition, but there was a singular balloon blowing in the wind and everyone was wearing party hats. There was food and drink laid out on the tablecloth that was clearly just a bed sheet. Starsky was sat in a wheelchair surrounded by nurses and other patients, but what grabbed Hutch’s attention more than anything was Starsky’s appearance: he was wearing proper clothes. Sort of. Under his beige cardigan he was still wearing his pyjama shirt, but he also had a pair of his old jeans on. They were loose fitting and kept up with a belt, but he was wearing them.

When Starsky spotted Hutch he slowly stood up from the wheelchair and gestured for Hutch to join them.

“Hey Blondie, come join the fun.”

Hutch made his way over and stood in front of his unstable partner. “Should you be out here?” he asked softly so only Starsky could hear.

“Yes and you can ask the nice nurses surrounding us.” He smiled. “Relax, we’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Hutch asked as he helped his partner ease himself back into the chair.

“Well, that depends who you ask. Let me introduce you to our guests. This is Robert.” Starsky pointed to a dark skinned young man with a cast on his arm sitting opposite. “He was involved in a very nasty motorcycle accident, but he’s getting released tomorrow. That’s worth celebrating.”

Robert raised his paper cup to Hutch. “Sure is. I got a bike to repair.”

“And this lovely lady is Deloris,” Starsky continued, moving on to a small brunette who smiled as she was addressed. “She had her gall bladder removed on her birthday so we’re having a late birthday celebration. 25 was it?” The middle aged Deloris smiled and winked.

“Next we have Reggie.” Starsky turned a little in his chair to gesture to a gruff, middle-aged man also in a wheelchair with his leg in a cast up to his hip. “Reggie just had his second operation on his leg and is celebrating…”

“Still having a leg,” Reggie interjected. “The quacks nearly amputated the thing out right.”

“Walking by the fall, right?” Starsky raised his paper cup, unconsciously flexing his legs a little.

“And then there’s Barney….who…uh, what are you celebrating?”

“Being outside,” the old man said, waving his cane in the air. “First time in three weeks.”

“And lastly, we have Linda who lost her voice to cancer.” Starsky gestured to a big, blond lady with a long scar on her neck. “But not her life and she could still give Andre the Giant a run for his money.”

To emphaise, Linda cracked her knuckles and then her neck. If that motion hurt, she didn’t show it.

“So, what are you celebrating?” Hutch asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Wearing pants.”

That did it. That finally made Hutch laugh. A proper, from the belly laugh, that sounded so good to Starsky’s ears.

“Life, I’m celebrating life. Infections, pneumonia, I’ve kicked them all in the butt. Nothing’s killed me yet and I want to celebrate that. Will you join me?”

Still smiling, Hutch took a paper cup from the table and filled it with apple juice. He raised it in the air. “To life!”

“To life!” Everyone cheered.

“L’Chaim!” Starsky and Barney cheered.

Starsky reached for a guitar that had been leaning against the wheelchair and handed it to Hutch. “So, what better way to kick off a party than with some music. Wanna give us a tune?”

“Where did you get this?” Hutch asked, admiring the instrument.

“It’s Nurse Mona’s.” He pointed to a young nurse helping herself to a cheese sandwich. “Still learning, right?”

“Oh, yes, when I can. I managed my second chord the other day.”

While Hutch still suffered a little from stage freight, he found himself very comfortable around the party guests, most of whom were digging into the food. He strummed a little, checking the guitar was in tune before playing the opening chords to his favourite Elvis song.

The party had only been given an hour, but they made the most of their allotted time. Hutch played a few songs, including a duet with Starsky. Nurse Mona played the one section of “I’m a Believer” she knew. Barney told a couple of filthy jokes that made people both laugh and cringe and Reggie showed off his juggling skills with some oranges. By the end of the hour they were competing for who had spent the most number of days in hospital since birth. It was close between Starsky and thrill seeker Robert. Everyone expected Barney to win, but he’d actually led quite a healthy life.

With the hour up, one by one the patients were led back to their rooms, each one telling Starsky how much fun it had been. When Starsky and Hutch were the last ones, Starsky asked Nurse Mona if Hutch could take him back in. They wanted just a few moments alone together. She agreed, but gave them only 5 minutes.

Alone, with only the birds watching Starsky pulled Hutch down to his knees and kissed his lover deeply. They hadn’t kissed like this in weeks and they both got a little carried away. Hutch had to restrain himself from reaching for Starsky’s belt. They finally broke apart, wanting more, but relishing in the moment they’d been given.

“Did you have fun?” Starsky asked, holding Hutch’s hands in his lap.

Hutch nodded. “Just what I needed.”

“Good, because I don’t want this to be a one off thing. I’m tried of feeling sorry for myself and I’m tired of seeing you so beat down. I want to hear you laugh every time you come to visit me.”

“Wish it was that easy.” Hutch sighed. “Not every day can be like this.”

“I know, doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

“You didn’t buy a joke book, did you?”

Starsky coughed. “Of course not.” He smiled. “I already own one.”

Hutch rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help snickering a little. “I thought you wanted to make me laugh.”

“And I will, it’s my new goal outside of getting back on my feet.”

“I’ll try not to make it too challenging for you.”

“I like a challenge.” Starsky leaned in and kissed Hutch on his nose.

“How about you plan the next fun activity?” Starsky said. “I could do with a nice surprise.”

“You’re not fit enough for the fun activities I have in mind.” Hutch wiggled his eyebrows. “But I’ll think of something.”

He kissed Starsky one last time on the lips and then took the handles of the wheelchair. As he pushed his lover back towards the hospital he had a thought…

…was Starsky up for eating stuffed veal?