We Made It

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Starsky finds Hutch and so much more in episode: SURVIVAL

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CHAPTER 1

He didn’t know anymore how long he’d been trapped beneath his car. He knew after the old man left that he was doomed. The police radio hadn’t helped either. He had to hold on. He was at the point of eternal sleep when suddenly, he heard Starsky’s voice. Not sure if he was hallucinating again, he rolled his head to the side and felt something, someone holding him, consoling him.

“We made it.” He tried to open his eyes but it took too much energy. It was all gone. The only thing he managed was coughing. There was dust, grit and sand in his throat.

Through the fog of pain and weakness, he understood that he was safe, all because of Starsky. The pure bliss of human contact, Starsky’s contact. Still holding his head so gently, Starsky leaned in to kiss Hutch’s forehead.

At that same moment, Hutch’s body moved, his head turning toward Starsky, their lips meeting. Not a big deal. Not then anyway.

“I love you.”

Starsky gently guided Hutch’s upper body back to the ground.

“It’s all over babe. I’m gonna get you outta here.” At first, Starsky didn’t react when medics descended the hill to begin the rescue effort. Not until someone touched his shoulder did he acknowledge the emergency team’s arrival. He felt irritated and annoyed at the intrusion but he moved enough for the medic to join him.

Initial confusion and barking orders gave way to organized chaos. It seemed there were hundreds of people walking all over the place, with no specific direction in mind. But Starsky knew that everything was under control; he’d been on the other side of rescues and arrests enough to know that everyone had their orders.

He turned back, concern only for his friend. At this point, Hutch was quiet but as activity picked up around him, he cringed and tried to close in on himself. He gasped as someone tried to get his blood pressure and pulled away as someone else began checking his upper extremities.

Starsky hovered, reluctant to share his space but wanting Hutch out from under that car as soon as possible.

The dark-haired man crouched low over Hutch, offering the injured man comfort.

“It’s okay. I’m here. Just let these guys help you and you’ll be out of here in no time.” Starsky stroked the dry, sunburned forehead.

Hutch struggled to speak. Nothing came from his dry, parched throat except air. He tried licking his lips but cried out with frustration. Instead, he pushed again towards Starsky, needing him in a way he didn’t understand.

When a canteen of water appeared beside Starsky, he picked it up and dabbed some of the water on Hutch’s face. A ragged sigh from the injured man was the only response.

Whatever else Hutch struggled for was lost for the time being as the rescue began.

Soon, emergency teams were busy figuring the best way to remove the demolished car and the safest way to help Hutch. Noise surrounded him, making him dizzy and afraid. Equipment buzzed and clanged as the men began the process of lifting the car. Shouting, walkie-talkies and a whirlwind of activity over took the scene. Meanwhile, the medics examined Hutch the best that they could under the circumstances. Their patient was nervous and in pain.

Hutch continued to groan and whimper with each motion near him. His skin was on fire because of severe sun burn. There didn’t seem to be any part of him that didn’t hurt. All of this combined with the sudden commotion, caused him to panic. He struggled against all who came near until one seasoned rescuer took Starsky aside.

“I’m Mitch. I’m in charge of this rescue.” The man was huge. Muscles rippled and confidence oozed from him. If experience were based on looks alone, then Mitch had plenty of that. Starsky felt better, more secure as they exchanged a quick hand shake. The detective never took his eyes off his friend. Noticing the steady gaze in Hutch’s direction, Mitch realized that this man could be a big help to everyone

“I’m Starsky, Dave Starsky. He’s my partner.” When Mitch’s eyebrow raised a question, the dark-haired man fished his shield out of his back pocket in explanation. “We’re cops. He’s been down here for about three days.” Thinking that was enough of an explanation, the detective started back toward his friend, but his movements were stopped by the strong grasp on his arm. He turned back to Mitch, willing to listen but for only a minute more.

“Look I know he’s in pain. But we gotta check him out, see what his injuries are. Give us room to work until we get him back to solid ground, it would help him and us.”

‘I understand. But you’ll have better success if ya let me stay with him.”

Just then, a bone rattling cry interrupted further conversation. Starsky glared at the medic but didn’t wait for permission. He skidded to a stop beside the pinned man, knelt beside him and gently brushed back the dirty blond hair from Hutch’s forehead.

“Hey, Blondie, hold on. I know you’re hurtin’ and all this is pretty scary. But trust me on this; you’ll be outta here soon.” He continued to sooth with his voice as the medics resumed their examination.

Panic settled in Hutch’s eyes again as confusion continued above them. Starsky held a steady gaze directly with his friend.

“Hutch, don’t think of anything else but me. Look at me.” When Hutch flinched, Starsky’s voice became serious and harsh. It had the desired effect. Hutch locked his stare with his friend and deliberately took a deep, ragged breath.

“That’s it. Breathe buddy. Hey if ya wanted a new car, why didn’t you just go to Merle for advice? Ya didn’t have to go to such extremes!” Starsky’s voice broke as he watched the struggle cross Hutch’s face. An attempt at laughter gave way to a fit of coughing and groans.

Even though he was weak and exhausted, he’d forced himself to stay lucid and awake. Hearing Starsky’s voice kept him grounded and the worst of the pain at bay.

By the time everything was ready to lift the car and move Hutch out at the same time, the sun was setting. Starsky felt anxious and nervous knowing that time was of the essence. They had to hurry but also take care not to drop the car and further compromise Hutch’s safety.

Above them, the vehicle rocked precariously. Starsky trusted that the car and Hutch would soon be free. But for Hutch, it was just too much. He couldn’t hold on any longer. Starsky faded in front of him and the whole terrifying scene that surrounded him melted away. He lost consciousness. At that point, it seemed that things went into high gear. It wasn’t long before the blond was freed from under the car and swiftly pulled up the hill with his grateful friend close behind.

Starsky hovered; making sure his friend was safely positioned in the ambulance. He didn’t insist on being with Hutch in the emergency vehicle. He knew he’d really be in the way in such a confined space and it was vital that they get their charge to the hospital as quickly as possible.

So once the ambulance headed down the mountain, he dragged himself to his car and rested his head on the steering wheel. The adrenaline that had kept him going, suddenly drained from him, leaving him weak. He didn’t try to stop the tears that slid down his face. It took another few minutes before his body stopped shaking and he had control of his emotions.

 

CHAPTER 2

Through the heaviness of pain Hutch was aware that Starsky was close by. He knew he was safe but had to put his trust in those around him for the time being. The fog over took him again as his mind shut down and his eyes fluttered closed. The last thing he remembered was Starsky’s warm hand in his.

Starsky stayed in the exam room until he was ushered out by a petite but strong- willed nurse. He was directed to fill out the paper work but did so standing up, in the hall outside of Hutch’s room.

That worked for awhile until the same dictatorial nurse saw him outside of the exam room, trying to see through the door as it constantly opened and closed.

“Now see here, sir. We are doing all we can for your friend. But you must stay out of the way. Let the doctor help him.”

Starsky slapped the forgotten papers against his thigh, annoyed at the busy work and anxious for news of his partner.

“I just want him to know I’m here.” Starsky again tried to push through the door but backed out as Hutch’s bed was wheeled out.

“Hutch, hey buddy! Everything’s gonna be alright.” The orderlies let him have a few seconds before they continued on their way to surgery. Starsky stood, watching as his friend was taken to the operating room. Fear gripped him again and he felt his heart beat quicken with worry.

“We’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery. The best way for you to help him is to complete the forms.” The sharp-tongued nurse suddenly had a change of heart; her voice softened as she saw the lines etched around the detective’s mouth and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Your friend is in good hands. The doctor is the best orthopedic doctor in the county.” She rested her hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to give him some peace.

Starsky sighed. His shoulders sagged and he offered a grateful smile.

After the required forms were filled out, the detective began making phone calls. He called Captain Dobey who told him to keep him informed. Speaking quietly, Dobey tried to provide some comfort.

“You need to be with him son. But take care of yourself, you hear me?” The normally gruff voice cracked with emotion. Before Starsky hung up, he could have sworn he heard his captain offering a prayer as well.

He checked in with Huggy who offered to keep him company, but Starsky didn’t have the strength to keep up a conversation just then. The bar tender said he’d stop by in the morning to see his friend.

“Thanks Huggy. I’ll let ya know when he’s out of surgery.” Starsky hung up the phone and rested his forehead against the receiver. He closed his eyes and battled the tears that threatened to over flow again.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Stretched out along its length, he’d fallen asleep on one of the vinyl couches. He startled awake, aware of someone tapping his shoulder. He had the vague feeling that they’d also been calling his name. He stared up at a tall, lanky doctor in green scrubs.

Rubbing his face, Starsky tried to focus on his watch. He leaned back, and motioned for the doctor to join him.

“How’s he doin’?” Starsky pulled himself forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Mr. Starsky, I’m Dr. Winefeld. I just completed surgery on Kenneth Hutchinson.”

Nodding at the information but anxious for more details, the detective stuck out his hand to introduce himself.

“Dave Starsky, Ken’s partner. He was layin’ under that car for three days, doc, how is he?”

The doctor took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Three emergency surgeries today and he was done in. Once he finished up here, he looked forward to a quiet dinner with his wife. But he could see the tiredness in the eyes that stared back at him.

“Well, his leg was broken in three places. He’ll be immobilized until his condition improves enough so that we can completely repair his leg. We removed his spleen…” The doctor ticked off a few more details, but he didn’t notice Starsky’s nervous disposition. “He’s got a lot of cuts that needed sutures, sun and wind burn, dehydration…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get all that, just tell me, is he gonna be okay?” Starsky grew restless; stood up and began to pace across the room. Finally he stopped beside a large round table, pulled out a plastic chair and straddled it.

He leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

“Well, barring any complications, and taking into account your friend’s over all general good health, yes, he’ll be okay. Eventually. He’s got a long recovery ahead of him.” The doctor stood, walked to the coffee pot, poured a cup and offered some to his companion.

Starsky shook his head, rejecting the coffee.

“When can I see him? Can I go wait in his room?” He stood, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

Too slow for Starsky, the doctor eased himself down on the couch and took a sip of his coffee.

“Maybe in twenty four hours. He won’t know you’re there until after that.” Just then, Dr. Winefeld’s beeper went off. He checked it, turned it off and returned it to his pocket.

“You don’t understand, doc. He’ll know I’m there. In fact it’ll keep him calm and he’ll respond better if I’m there. I won’t get in anybody’s way.”

The doctor frowned, still thinking of the page he’d received. So much for a relaxed dinner at home.

Already dismissing the man in front of him, he headed out the door, another patient on his mind. But just as he reached the threshold, he turned back giving Starsky the room number. He didn’t have time to argue. Besides, it wasn’t his concern; the unit where Hutchinson would be was known for strict nurses who didn’t like anyone to meddle with their routine. He suspected though, that they’d have their hands full with these two.

Taking the steps two at a time, Starsky propelled himself up the stairs to the fourth floor. He stopped when he reached the hallway, trying to calm his rattled brain. He was very tired and longed for a shower and a soft bed, but that would have to wait.

Deciding on politeness, he stopped at the front desk to talk to the head nurse. The unit was quiet and several nurses stood reading charts, one other woman was on the phone.

With more patience than he felt, he stood, waiting to be acknowledged. After a few minutes, the white capped woman got off the phone and noticed her visitor.

“May I help you?” She was tall and willowy. The uniform didn’t hide her curves. If Starsky hadn’t been so tired, he might just enjoy flirting but for now, he needed to be on his best behavior.

Peering at her name tag, he tried for his best dejected expression and introduced himself.

“Hi.. Nurse Clancy. I’m Dave Starsky.” He flashed his badge which did nothing to soften the young woman’s face. Clearing his throat, he pressed on.

“Umm.. my partner, Ken Hutchinson, will be brought here soon from surgery. I’d really like to stay with him awhile. I won’t get in your way. But it’ll be good for him to know I’m here.” His smile didn’t seem to affect the woman one way or the other. She was all business.

“You may see him for a few minutes once he’s settled, but after that, it would help everyone if you went home, got a shower and rested.” Starsky didn’t miss the slight crinkling of her nose, as if he smelled or was dirty.

“Ok. How about you let me use the locker room and get a shower. Then by the time he’s settled, I can spend the rest of the night with him until he wakes up.” He looked proud of himself for coming up with an acceptable plan. He thought she would disagree until another nurse came up behind her and smiled kindly at him.

“Jill, I think that sounds like a good plan.” Nurse Penny offered her hand in greeting and at the same time, introduced herself as the head nurse.

“On one condition Mr. Starsky.” He looked at her expectantly, knowing he needed to make a compromise if he was going to get to see Hutch at all.

“We’ll give you clean scrubs to change into and you can sit with your friend until the shift changes. Then you really will need to go home for a few hours. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I really appreciate it. I won’t be any trouble. I’ll even be able to help out with Hutch. He can get pretty stubborn when he’s sick and stuck in bed.”

Both nurses grinned at him. Nurse Jill tried to engage Starsky in conversation, but his heart just wasn’t in it. After Penny pulled out scrub shirt and pant, she directed him to the locker room. She cleared her throat, turning the nurse’s attention away from Starsky as she fixed them with a stern look. They were quite familiar with that glare: it meant that they were to attend to business and not let anything, or anyone, divert them from following her rules.

 

CHAPTER 3

The warm water sprayed down his tired body. Starsky’s shoulders began to relax and the knots in his back loosened. He stretched his arms out, resting his hands on the shower stall. Letting the water fall over him, he watched as it turned grey with dirt, dust and was mildly surprised at the blood he saw that rinsed down his body. He had been so focused on getting Hutch free, that he’d been unaware of his own scrapes and discomfort.

It seemed that dirt, dust and adrenaline had been the only things holding him together. As it all washed away, he folded in on himself until he huddled on the floor of the shower, his tears mixing with the water; both draining away. The tears kept coming long after the water turned cold, but the distraught man only felt despair.

Huddled with his arms around his knees, thoughts tumbled around him. They had battled for each other’s life before and always won. But this had been too close. The stress of the past few days was physical as well as mental. He had gone to hell and back demanding news of anyone who knew Hutch’s fate. Every alley had led to a dead end until Starsky finally found an opening. He dared to hope that he’d find Hutch alive and when he did, it was so agonizing he hardly knew how to react.

His body jerked with a sudden memory. There was a kiss between them at the point of shared rejoicing. Once they both knew the other still existed, their lips met in gratitude.

But was it really a kiss? Perhaps it had been nothing more than a spasm of pain on Hutch’s part? It didn’t really matter at the moment. Starsky shuddered under the cooling spray. The fact was that Hutch was alive.

“I love you, Hutch!” Starsky whispered to himself. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks but they weren’t as wrenching as earlier. These were tears of acceptance and wonder.

It wasn’t new, that love he had for his partner, yet he didn’t have the energy to take that thought any further. He struggled with his emotions; trying to grab some composure in order to start his vigil. It was then he heard a voice; definitely a female voice, calling his name.

Leaving the water running in case she could hear his distress, he answered, tentatively.

“Yeah?”

Nurse Jill answered back, anxious to share some news.

“Detective Starsky, are you all right?”

“Yeah… I’m… Yeah, Is Hutch okay?” Renewed fear filled him.

“I wanted you to know that he’s out of recovery and in his room.” She hesitated a moment, not sure what else she could say.

“Thanks for telling me. I’ll be there in a minute. Thanks.” He was at a loss for words and wanting nothing more than to get to his partner’s side.

He shut the water off and peeked around the corner, looking for the nurse. Anxious to get to Hutch, he pushed himself out of the stall and retrieved the scrubs that lay on the wooden bench. Quickly toweling off, he donned the clothes and put on his sneakers without socks. Someone had thoughtfully left a plastic bag for his dirty clothes. He took the time to notice how dirty and sweaty they were, no wonder the nurse so willingly let him use the locker room.

As he picked his shirt up to stuff it in the bag, he noticed for the first time a torn sleeve, the hem frayed and by the pocket, blood. Who’s blood he couldn’t say but he held the shirt next to him for a moment; wanting to draw strength from it, as if it was a talisman for the future. They would work together, fight for one another, love one another as never before.

Starsky didn’t waste anymore time with unanswered questions. He went straight to Hutch’s room. Slowing his steps, he held the door open before stepping completely into the room. He took a good look around and was surprised to find a cot placed in the private room. He was indebted to the nurses already. They obviously understood the connection the two cops had. Probably they’d seen it in other cops, but Starsky doubted that any other pair were as close. Now, he wondered just how close that relationship could get.

He set his bundle on the cot and turned to face the man in the bed. The regulation beeping of the monitor supplied the only noise in the room. Hutch’s leg was suspended off the bed. The doctor had said that until Hutch’s condition stabilized, they could not fix the three splintered bones; one of which had pierced the skin. Underneath his breastbone, stitches stood out, jagged with dried blood where they’d removed his spleen.

His bare chest also revealed cuts and purple splotches along his rib cage and down around his hips. Starsky gently pulled the sheet up over the blonde’s stomach, letting his hand linger a moment on the fabric. The lines between the closed eyes were deep, indicating pain even though the man was heavily sedated still from the surgery. He knew that the I.V.’s hanging around Hutch included an antibiotic, some sort of saline solution to replace fluids and the other a pain medication. That one would be the first to go after his partner regained his senses. They both hated the dopey feeling and relied on their own pain control and each other to get through the worst of recuperation.

Starsky pulled up a straight backed chair to sit next to his friend. The only light in the room came from the back light over the bed. He sat gratefully, touching the long fingers, caressing the back of it. He traced the veins that stuck out, more pronounced for the moment due to dehydration. His eyes traveled up to the face that he never thought he’d see again. He let his hand wander up to touch the mouth, feeling how dry the lips were. Noticing a wash rag on the bedside table, Starsky picked it up and dipped it in the water pitcher. Lightly, he stroked the cloth against the pale lips. Hutch’s tongue snaked out to lap up the moisture.

Just then, Hutch groaned and his head moved from side to side on the pillow. His eyes fluttered open, still foggy from anesthetic. He struggled to keep them open for as long as possible.

In that first minute of consciousness, he was aware only of Starsky standing beside him, and his hand in the other man’s cool, comforting grip.

He felt the deepest desire to speak. He cleared his throat.

Wanting Hutch to feel safe, Starsky spoke quietly while his hand traveled down the prone body.

“Shhh… don’t try to talk. Just go back to sleep.” Starsky smoothed out the sheet over Hutch’s chest. His hand lingered there, while his other hand gripped Hutch’s.

“Hurt” Hutch’s scratchy voice wasn’t more than a whisper. Starsky leaned closer, straining to hear the words.

The blonde licked his lips, his teeth biting down on them.

Again, Starsky tried to console his friend, whispering quiet words of encouragement.

“I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

Starsky was rewarded with a light squeeze of his hand from Hutch.

For now, that was enough for both of them.

 

CHAPTER 4

Even though Starsky knew that his friend would be okay, he couldn’t get the image of the accident scene out of his mind. He tried to suppress the tightness that grabbed at his stomach, but that vision was just too vivid and fresh to ignore. He continued his vigil, trying to concentrate on the fact that his partner was alive and that all Starsky had to do was reach out and touch the man to convince himself that his fears had not come true.

Hutch slept fitfully, groaning but never fully waking up again. Starsky reached out to brush the blond hair off the forehead. His face felt warm, the remnants of a combination of wind and sun burn. The doctor also said he had an infection due to the trauma to his leg which had been broken in three places.

Starsky stood up, stretched his back and paced to the window. He separated the curtain which had been closed against the light. Hutch’s eyes were sensitive since they also had been traumatized from the elements. There was no permanent damage but the doctor suggested that the room be kept in shadow until Hutch gained strength.

He looked out onto the hospital campus. It was a busy place between the ambulances that seemed to constantly come and go along with visitors and hospital workers in and out of the building. But he really didn’t see any of it. He couldn’t erase the image of Hutch under that car.

He pushed his hand through his hair and let out a long breath. Thinking back over the past few days, he suddenly flashed on the meeting he had with the Carla Iverson, the call girl who’d directed him to The Garvey Hotel. She probably had once been beautiful and most likely had entertained some pretty successful men in her time but, somehow had fallen from grace. The dirty room where Starsky had found her was a depressing existence.

In that room, face to face with a woman who no longer had hope, Starsky felt a strange kinship with her. He wanted to believe that Hutch was alive but at the same time, his ability for positive thinking was cracking. He knew that his life without Hutch could very well be as dark and grim as that room where he had found Carla.

“Someone very, very, very close to me might be dead.”

Speaking those words had cost Starsky a lot. It made the situation more urgent to have acknowledged it out loud. There was little hope of getting anything useful from her until he had offered the only thing he had to give at that moment; Courage. He tried to reach her with something that she had lost and he was in danger of losing himself. Courage and hope were the two things Starsky held onto, even in these dank, depressing surroundings.

Turning from that memory and focusing on the present, he watched the steady rise and fall of Hutch’s chest, heard the bleeping of the monitors and watched the slow drip of the liquids pumping into the pale, bruised body. There was his hope. If Hutch held on for those three days, expecting, willing, Starsky to find him, then he certainly could reciprocate and hold on for his friend now.

He was restless but leaving was out of the question. Pacing around the room again, Starsky checked the closet, realizing he’d have to bring Hutch some clothes and toiletries. The blond liked his own brand of shaving cream and toothpaste. He then stood beside Hutch’s bed, watching the man breathe.

What he really wanted was to hear for himself that Hutch was okay. He wanted to hear it directly from his friend.

Sitting in the plastic chair, Starsky began to talk. He missed his friend and even though he didn’t expect a response, he needed the closeness of their friendship.

“Hey Blondie, you gonna sleep forever?” Starsky watched the beloved face for signs of recognition, but nothing changed in the stressed lines around his mouth or the deep crevice between his eyes.

“C’mon Hutch, you’ll be okay. You’ll be back at Huggy’s with me, chasing the latest girl of your dreams.” Again, the bed-ridden man was silent and still.

Starsky struggled wanting something, but he wasn’t sure what that was. His attempt at humor seemed shallow. His voice wavered, cracking with unshed tears.

“You know something Hutch? I’m scared.” The confession seemed to ease his stress somewhat. He reached out to Hutch. His thumb caressed the lax hand.

“There were so many times when I thought…” His voice broke. Again, the vision of the accident scene appeared before him. “Hell, I even lost hope that I’d find you at all.” He watched the slow, even breathing, listened to the heart monitor as it continued beeping the rhythm of life.

He took in a shaky breath. All of this was good to know but he wanted, needed to do something for his partner. He reached over to pick up the washcloth, took it to the sink and wrung it out in cool water. He gently dabbed at the pale face which seemed flushed. With the cloth, he wiped Hutch’s neck and gingerly pulled back the sheet, revealing the bruised and battered body. Again with the damp cloth, he glided his hand down one arm and then the other. He stayed away from the surgical site where his spleen had been removed, but went on down the torso. Wiping those areas, he took another cloth to carefully dry him off. He covered him back with the sheet.

Satisfied that he had provided some measure of comfort to his partner and feeling that he’d done something useful, Starsky returned to his chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm his own thoughts.

If he could say just one thing to Hutch, what would it be? They had never spoken of the love between them. They had shown it plenty with hugs, subtle touches and undeniable looks of understanding between them. But Starsky vowed that he would never lose another chance to tell his friend how much he cherished their friendship, starting now.

The dark-haired man opened his eyes and pulled his chair closer to the bed. Leaning in, he whispered to his silent friend;

“I love you.”

The injured man did not respond so Starsky took a few minutes to caress the lines that crossed Hutch’s forehead. He planted a soft kiss there as he had done when he’d first found him. Something niggled into his thoughts, sort of déjà vu.

He tried to concentrate but his thoughts were muddled. Lack of sleep caught up to him. He struggled to remain awake but without success.

Before long, his head began to nod forward until he just couldn’t hold it up any longer. It seemed that his neck had lost all strength. He was already asleep, his head resting comfortably on top of his crossed arms, near his friend.

Hutch awakened briefly. His long fingers curled around tendrils of dark hair. He fell back to sleep, content in the knowledge that Starsky was close by.

 

CHAPTER 5

Hutch felt himself floating to the surface. He concentrated, hearing the familiar beep of a monitor. Then he felt a stinging sensation in his hand which probably meant at least one I.V. But there was something else; he moved his hand, felt softness against his fingers. Without a doubt, even with his eyes still closed, he knew Starsky was near. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinked a few times and squinted against the light, even though the room was shadowed with the curtain closed against the outside light.

“Starsky.” His throat was scratchy, his voice low. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Starsk?” He moved his hand, spreading his fingers through the dark hair at his fingertips. Hutch couldn’t lift his head to see but he felt movement, then Starsky was in his line of vision.

Standing next to his friend, Starsky beamed with pleasure. Hutch had thought of nothing else in the hours before he was rescued other than those intense blue eyes and crooked smile.

“Hey, how ya doin’?” Starsky spoke quietly, not trusting the strength of his own voice to rise past the lump in his throat.

Hutch swallowed then licked his lips. Immediately, Starsky offered the man a cup of water, holding it against the dry lips. Hutch groaned with pleasure.

“Hurtin.’’ As if to prove it, he winced and sucked in his breath. He tried to touch his chest, but Starsky gently guided his hand back down at his side.

“You were in pretty bad shape, but you’ll be okay.” Tentatively, Starsky sat on the bed. But realizing that it might cause his friend more pain he got back up. As if he knew what Starsky was thinking, Hutch stopped him with his voice.

“Stay. I need you.” Hutch reached for Starsky’s hand and squeezed it in gratitude. “You okay?” The blond searched the dark-haired man’s face for signs of stress and worry.

Their hands remained entwined and Starsky stayed seated next to his friend on the bed. Hutch wanted to know how many days had passed since the beginning of his ordeal.

“Well, you were under that damn car for three days and you’ve been in here for…” Starsky glanced at the wall clock across from the bed and mentally counted the hours since Hutch had been brought in.

“You’ve been here for 36 hours. Glad you finally decided to join me.” He gently rubbed Hutch’s arm, then got up from the bed.

“Huh, I’m just glad you found me. I guess my leg’s a mess.” He glanced at it, only partially covered with sterile dressing. He then picked up the sheet, staring at his torso and belly.

Starsky answered his unspoken question. “You had internal bleeding, so they had to remove your spleen.”

“My car… totaled?” His blue eyes struggled to stay open.

“Not even Merle can fix it Buddy.” Starsky’s attempt at humor was met with a strangled laugh from his friend. The laugh got caught up in a wave of pain. Hutch tried to suppress it, but his words were forced, squeezed out between gritted teeth.

“It was one of a kind.” The blond took in a large gasp of air as he attempted to finish his thought. “I liked that car.”

Starsky decided to get the attention of a nurse so he pushed the call button. Within minutes, a nurse swept in, taking in the pained expression on her patient’s face and took charge. Soon after, a new bag of pain medication had replaced the empty one, vital signs had been recorded in Hutch’s chart and fresh water appeared at his side.

“I’ll be back with Jell-O. Do you have a favorite flavor?” The nurse’s smile transformed her earlier strict efficiency.

Hutch blinked. His eyes were already glassy from medication, his lids fluttering.

“I think the Jell-O’s gonna have to wait.” Starsky tucked the sheet up to Hutch’s chin. The blonde settled into the mattress, already asleep.

After the nurse was gone, Starsky settled down on the cot. With his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes, intending only to rest for a few minutes.

At least now he was certain that Hutch would recover. He didn’t trust doctors and hated hospitals. He needed the reassurance from his friend that everything would be okay. It was getting to be a bad habit between them: the dangerous work resulting in physical injury and hospital stays. They knew most of the E.R. staff on a first name basis but at least Hutch hadn’t spent anytime in ICU or on a respirator.

Wanting another glimpse of his best friend, he looked over at the blond, satisfied that he was resting comfortably. Shifting, he turned on his side facing his partner. He didn’t try to stop the yawn that made his ears pop. Punching the thin pillow beneath his head, he continued thinking about his partner. He wanted to do something to show him how much he loved him, how grateful he was to have found him alive.

What was it Hutch had said about his car? The blond liked that shitty excuse for a car and was right about it being one of a kind. Starsky fell asleep wondering if he could find another, just as unique.

 

CHAPTER 6

Startled out of sleep, Hutch was at first confused from a lingering nightmare.

He felt nauseated, anxious and he was pretty sure he’d been dreaming but couldn’t be sure. Everything seemed in shadow.

He was sweating and very thirsty. He suddenly remembered. Throwing the sheet away from him, he exposed his leg. It was there, still in traction, still swollen, but somehow, he knew he’d been dreaming. Thank God. What a terrible dream. Slowly his senses returned. He knew what was real. He fought to erase the terrible images of the nightmare. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the rolling pictures of the dream he’d just had. He shuddered as the images came back to him:

He threw back the light sheet to examine his leg. It was pretty bad looking. Swollen and discolored, his leg felt hot. He couldn’t wiggle his toes.

Hutch shut his eyes and rubbed the crevice between them. He had a headache and badly needed water. He wiped at the sweat that suddenly matted his blond hair to his head.

The pain in his chest and stomach burned as if a branding iron had been stuck there, twisting its fiery surface into his soul.

He drew back the sheet again. This time, there was no leg. It was just a stump of skin where his leg should be. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He’d heard that after a limb was removed it still felt like it was there. That must have been what he experienced when he first looked under the blanket. Now was the reality, the thing that no one had told him.

He wiped his eyes, swiping at the sweat that poured into them. He felt like he was still under the car, baking in the blazing sun. As he watched, his lump of flesh throbbed and bled. Hot tendrils skewered all the way to his toes.

Hutch thrashed against the mattress. He couldn’t get away from the awful sight of his leg. Was it there or wasn’t it? Each time he looked, the leg was different; shrinking and swelling grotesquely, and then disappeared again. If this was phantom pain, then he wished he were dead.

How was he going to be a cop? How could he survive without a leg?

By this time, his breathing increased, his panic nearly overtaking him. His palms were sweaty. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Why had Starsky kept this from him?

“No! Oh God, no!”

Hutch felt himself falling, rolling. He was crushed under his car. He landed hard. He couldn’t breath. But then he was cradled in comfort; until he realized that his head was resting on his severed leg, the blood flooding his eyes.

Pushing himself, the blond fought back, tried to get away from the awful images. Searching for something to take his mind away from the nightmare, he struggled, searching the room. Badly needing to ground himself in the here and now, he tried to focus. His blurred vision slowly gave way until he focused on a piece of paper bearing Starsky’s left handed scrawl. Wincing as he reached for it, he read the short note.

“Be back soon.”

STARSK

Hutch let the paper float to his chest. He blinked back tears realizing how much he needed his friend. It had all been a bad dream. Proof of reality was in his hand.

He took a deep breath, instantly regretting the action. His chest hurt from surgery along with the countless other problems caused by the accident. He continued to battle against the feeling of loss, looking again at the words on the paper. Nothing in them to suggest comfort, nevertheless, he felt uplifted knowing he was no longer alone or in danger.

Never would he need to worry about that as long as Starsky was in his life. While trapped under his car, he feared that he’d never see his friend again, never get to tell him that he loved him.

Still needing to rid himself of the disturbing nightmare, he concentrated, thinking about his and Starsky’s relationship.

They were very close, closer than brothers, but didn’t verbally confirm that often. It was more in the light touches that neither had to think about. It was just part of their relationship. They had always expressed support, trust and friendship through their physical connection.

Hutch groaned as he tried to change position. His leg was itching and burned at the same time. His back was sore from the same position and his skin prickled and itched from sun and wind burn. He could really use a back rub, but doubted he could get in a position that would allow that.

Wiggling his hips against the mattress, he resigned himself that for the moment, he would just have to tough it out. He was afraid that if he called a nurse, all she would offer were pain medications. He wanted to wean himself off of those as soon as possible. So he’d wait for Starsky who had the capacity to turn down the pain. Listening to his friend talk about trivia he’d picked up, any gossip or just bantering back and forth. It’s what they both did for each other when hurt physically and emotionally.

Turning his thoughts back to the subject of loving his partner, he suddenly flashed to being rescued and his first glimpse of Starsky. He had been so relieved and overjoyed at the sight. He touched his lips, feeling again the cooling first taste of water on his parched lips and skin.

What had happened then? His fingers hovered over his cheek, reliving Starsky’s touch at the time of rescue. After that he tried but couldn’t remember anything but pain and eventually waking up in the hospital. He was scared that he couldn’t recall a chunk of his life but more than that, something was lurking in his memory: an odd feeling of change.

Something niggled at him, just out of reach. Again, he forced himself to concentrate, to remember as much as he could. Bits and pieces flashed before him, but he had no reference point. The sequence of events was twisted into a kaleidoscope of images. He couldn’t put a name to the vague feeling that he’d learned about something life changing, Had he been told something serious and he’d blocked it out, sort of amnesia of events?

Was there still the possibility he’d lose his leg? Maybe that’s what he’d been told and the nightmare was a reaction to the news? Was it just the after effects of the nightmare?

The only person he could trust to tell him the truth, just bounded into the room.

 

CHAPTER 7

Gliding into the hospital room, Starsky grinned at his friend, glad to see Hutch awake.

“Hey, Blondie, you okay? I just made a few phone calls and went around the corner to the deli for a sandwich.” Starsky began clearing away the lunch tray that still sat on the table beside Hutch’s bed. Frowning slightly that he hadn’t been there to encourage his friend to eat, he didn’t realize that Hutch had spoken.

“Starsky” Hutch’s voice wasn’t more than a whisper.

“You didn’t eat much, buddy. I know this food ain’t so good but…” This time, it was the sound of Hutch’s voice rather than the words that grabbed his attention.

“Starsky…” Hutch spoke up, his voice shaking. “You’ve g-g-got to t-tell me what’s wr-rong with me!” His voice was uncharacteristically timid and the stammer that appeared only when his friend was upset, finally caught Starsky’s attention.

Immediately, he abandoned house cleaning and walked closer to the bed. Noticing the fine sheen of sweat that dotted the blonde’s forehead and the deep lines between his eyes, the dark-haired man settled on the bed beside his friend.

Hutch grabbed the other man’s hand, squeezing it as if he needed to be sure that his partner was real.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now.” Starsky searched his friend’s watery eyes for some sort of clue as to what was wrong.

Hutch took a deep breath. He was afraid to voice his fear. Either his world was about to change forever, or he would be chastising himself for believing in a stupid dream. He hoped it was the latter.

“What’s wrong with my leg? I w-was under th-a-at car a long time. Tell me the truth Starsk.” He pushed himself up on his elbow, his face contorted with pain but intent on Starsky’s eyes. They could always trust seeing the truth in each other. It was in their eyes, their body language. From years of working together when sometimes the only way to communicate was silently, they’d come to trust what they saw there implicitly.

They locked eyes, neither speaking for several minutes.

Finally, Starsky leaned closer and wiped a cold cloth through the matted blond hair.

Still close enough to see deep into the cloudy blue eyes, Starsky spoke quietly and with conviction. He held Hutch’s head between his hands. Somehow, in the time he’d been gone, something unsettling had happened to his friend. Starsky was willing to bet it was a nightmare. Both were often subject to terrifying nightmares due to a case they’d been working on or after a horrific personal experience.

“Listen to me.” He pronounced each word distinctly and with authority.

“Once you’ve recovered enough for surgery, you’re leg will be fixed and you and me will be back combing the streets for scum.” He continued to cradle Hutch’s head, eyes still connecting them.

Hutch sniffed, trying to control the tears that threatened to spill over. He felt the tender caress on his cheek and wanted desperately to believe his friend.

“You wouldn’t lie to me about this? Don’t sugar-coat anything. I need to know!”

Starsky gently guided Hutch’s head back to the pillow. He once again took Hutch’s hand in his and placed both of their hands on his chest.

“I’d never lie about this to you. You’re leg was in pretty bad shape. They have to wait till you’re stronger before they can perform surgery. But that should be soon.”

Hutch nodded, still not taking his eyes off of his partner.

“I can’t put the past few days in sequence. I don’t remember some things. I can’t be sure what I heard or what I saw.”

Starsky bowed his head, thinking about what the past few days had been like for both of them, how much worse for his friend.

He offered the bed-ridden man a glass of water. Hutch drank deeply.

“I don’t think I’ll ever take a glass of water for granted again.” He stared at the empty glass, twisting it in his hand, as if he was examining fine crystal.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that something happened, something is different.” Hutch motioned to the end of the bed. Starsky got up and cranked the head of the bed so that Hutch could sit up easier.

“Like what? What d’ya mean?” Starsky got the visitor chair and pulled it up to the bed. He straddled it, reaching again for Hutch’s hand.

“I had a lot of time to think out there. I was convinced that the only way I’d get out alive was that my leg would have to be cut off. We’ve seen a lot of pretty ugly accidents and well, you know how it goes.” He visibly shuddered and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders but left his other hand in Starsky’s.

Starsky blanched at the thought. He’d worried about that as well.

“I know, but you’re gonna be okay. You gotta believe that. You’ve had a hell of an accident. Of course you’re gonna feel disoriented.”

The blond hitched himself further in the bed. Groaning softly, he tried to find a comfortable position. Sitting up was proving to be difficult. He yawned but the remnants of the dream stopped the idea of sleep.

Starsky went to the other hospital bed. Taking the unused pillow he gently wedged it behind Hutch’s back. When he heard the contented sigh, he stopped hovering and went back to sit in the chair.

“You had a nightmare, didn’t ya?” Starsky watched as his friend’s eyes glossed over, were shiny with renewed, unshed tears.

“Wanna tell me about it?’ Starsky gently prodded his partner to share the dream. Hutch didn’t easily express his fears so he wanted to give his friend every opportunity to talk.

“I had a very graphic nightmare. My leg kept changing, disappearing. At one point…” Hutch couldn’t go on. The images were still too real. He was afraid he’d fall asleep and see it all over again.

“This was way too close for comfort, my friend. It affected me too. I almost lost you, Hutch.” His voice cracked, his throat constricting with emotion.

“Well, we’ll both be okay, right? But I feel different. Sure, I’m grateful that I’m alive, but it’s more than that. I feel closer to you.” Hutch’s eyes narrowed, the lines between his eyes deepened as he thought about something that he couldn’t quite grasp; something more than gratitude had happened to cause a feeling that he didn’t often experience or acknowledge.

Suddenly, Starsky’s lips tingled. A flash of understanding grabbed him. So it wasn’t just an inadvertent reaction to pain that caused Hutch to kiss him. It had been intentional. But why couldn’t Hutch remember it?

Rarely at a loss for words, Starsky played with an imaginary loose thread on the bed sheet, buying time before he answered. This wasn’t the place to talk about such a life altering decision, so he opted for humor for now.

“Yeah, you’re just grateful I found your sorry ass. I told you that car would cause you nothin’ but trouble.” He averted his eyes. He didn’t want to push something that maybe Hutch wouldn’t want.

“I’ll miss that car. It had personality.” Hutch closed his eyes, and tried to stifle a yawn before continuing his train of thought.

“Nah, something else. I thought about you… us.” Another yawn and Hutch tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Burrowing his head deeper into the pillow, he gave in to sleep.

Starsky stood by the bed, watching his friend sleep. He thought about how grateful he was that Hutch was resting comfortably, he accepted the fact that another day was over before they could talk about what was emerging as an important discovery for both of them.

 

CHAPTER 8

It was late evening when he decided to go home for the night. There were things he needed at his place and some errands to accomplish. So the next morning he returned with brown bags in both hands and the key to a surprise for Hutch.

This time when he entered the room, Hutch was sitting up, chatting with Cynthia, his nurse. She finished taking the man’s pulse, checked the IV’s and wrote her findings in his chart.

“So how’s he doin?” Starsky sat on the bed beside his friend. He spoke to Cynthia but his eyes were on the blonde.

Cynthia pushed the pen behind her ear before responding.

“He’s doing well. Vitals stronger, incisions healing…”

“Excuse me… He’s right here!” Annoyed at being talked about as if he couldn’t hear, Hutch folded his arms across his chest, slightly wincing as the action pulled at his stitches.

“Yeah, you’re feelin’ better… grouchy as hell!” Starsky playfully ruffled the blond hair which caused Hutch to snarl, all in good fun.

Cynthia chuckled. She enjoyed the friendly exchange and took another glance at the curly-headed cop.

As handsome as she thought Starsky was, she realized he had eyes only for Hutchinson. She saw how the dark-haired man looked at his friend and wondered what the deal was with these two. Starsky was very gentle and loving toward the bed-ridden man. She knew they were cops but felt this was more than a professional relationship. She’d seen them interact when Hutch was only awake for short periods of time. As a trained nurse, she was skilled at accessing her patient’s needs and deciding if visitors were good for the recovery of an ill person. She noticed that Hutch responded without hesitation and with complete trust when Starsky was around.

“Well, everything looks fine and you’re gaining strength. The doctor will be in later to discuss your surgery.” At her words, both men shared a smile and reached for each other at the same time.

Cynthia almost blushed at the trust and love between these two. She backed out of the room, feeling like she was intruding.

Sitting in companionable silence for a time, it was Starsky who broke contact to get up and reveal what he’d brought back with him.

“I went back to your place and brought you… This!”

Holding a thermos, he unscrewed the lid and handed the container to Hutch. The blond sniffed the contents, glared at his friend and handed it back.

“What is it?” Hutch continued to be wary of whatever was in the bottle.

“Will ya just drink it? I made you one of your protein shakes.” Starsky poured some into the plastic cup sitting on the nightstand.

“You know I love you but I don’t trust you to mix it up right. Starsky thanks, but you don’t….” His protest was cut off as his friend offered him a cup full of the concoction.

“C’mon, I been watching you make this stuff for years. It’ll be good for you.” Now it was Starsky’s turn to grimace at the thermos, quickly putting the cap back on.

Hutch screwed up his face and took a tentative sip. Deciding it was just right but not wanting to admit it, he shrugged his shoulder in resignation; wanting to tease his friend a bit.

Finishing the shake which Hutch admitted was just right and very filling, he pointed to the bags sitting at the bottom of his bed.

“What else did you bring?” He tried to sit up straighter but couldn’t get comfortable. He winced but refused to give in to the pain. Instead, he concentrated on his friend.

“Well, beside that ungodly stuff…” Starsky looked at the thermos and shivered, giving the appearance of disgust but secretly glad that Hutch enjoyed the drink.

“I brought you some hospital essentials.” He picked up the bag, took out Hutch’s toothbrush, razor and favorite shaving cream. He set them on the table next to Hutch.

“I was sorta looking forward to one of those cute nurses shaving me.” Hutch wriggled his eyebrows. Starsky threw the empty bag at him, as they both shared a laugh.

“Your luck she’ll be a big drill sergeant nurse come to give you a bath!” He tossed a magazine at the bed. Hutch picked up The Garden Monthly and began reading the contents. Starsky had one more surprise. “But the best thing of all… Ta-daa!” He pulled out a glossy adult magazine and handed it to the blond.

Picking up the magazine, he briefly began leafing through, turning the magazine sideways.

“So anything else I can do for you?” Starsky crunched up both empty bags and threw them in the trash, basketball style.

“Not really. I’m just anxious to get out of here. Hope that surgery will be soon.”

Starsky nodded his head in agreement and retrieved The Bay City Gazette. Wanting to remain close to Hutch, he sat in the chair and propped his feet up on the edge of the bed. He laughed to himself, thinking of the times he’d assumed the same position in Captain Dobey’s office only to receive a dark glare or angry warning from his superior. Not worried about the big man’s reaction for the moment, he opened the newspaper first to the sports page.

As if reading his mind, Hutch joked with his friend, Captain Dobey style.

“Starsky! Get your god dammed feet off the bed!” His voice was scruffy and he turned up his mouth, imitating their captain.

Starsky had been absorbed in the paper and upon hearing the gruff voice, he’d crumpled up the paper and sat up straighter, his feet hitting the floor. He checked over his shoulder and realized the joke. Hutch was laughing at him and Starsky just glared.

Silently, both men went back to their reading. Hutch started flipping through the Garden magazine. A few minutes passed until Hutch broke the silence.

He let the magazine fall to his chest. Struggling with the right words, he tentatively broached a subject that they’d touched on the previous day.

“Starsky? You know I love you, right?” Hutch spoke to the newspaper in front of Starsky’s face. But at his words, the paper folded to his lap, revealing a crooked grin.

The dark-haired man spread out his arms as he stated:
“Hey, what’s not to love?”

“Starsky, be serious.” He hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed.

Hutch absently scratched at his chest, the healing incisions were itchy. At the crestfallen face, Hutch tried a different approach.

“Sorry, I just need to talk about something. I didn’t sleep well last night. I refused the meds even though my leg was throbbing.” At that moment, Hutch groaned and he reached to his leg, massaging his upper thigh.

He waved away his worried partner who got up from the chair and sat beside his friend.

“It’ll pass.” He winced and sucked in his breath. He didn’t refuse when Starsky started massaging his shoulder. “But I had time to think last night. I haven’t been able to remember the moments leading up to when you found me. But last night it all fell into place.”

“Lying under that car, I swore that if I lived through it, I’d tell you exactly how much I…” He swallowed, reaching inside his soul for the strength. All he had to do was gaze into his partner’s eyes and he knew he wasn’t wrong.

“I Love you.” Hutch lowered his head, suddenly shy. He felt the gentle touch to his chin and he looked into the violet depths of the man sitting in front of him.

Just then, the door banged open and Dr. Backwater breezed into the room.

“Well, how’s the patient? You ready for surgery tomorrow?” Concentrating on the chart in front of him, he advanced, thinking he was about to offer a new lease on life in the form of surgery.

He never saw the two men wiping moisture from their eyes. Nor did he witness the look of love between patient and visitor. Starsky stood up on wobbly legs and turned toward the visitor. Hutch passed a shaky hand through his hair.

They already had their second chance at life.

 

CHAPTER 9

The doctor began examining his patient, poking and prodding at the injured leg. Shortly after, the nurse came in with a covered tray in her hand. She set that on the table beside the doctor and stood just behind, waiting for instructions.

Dr. Backwater removed the dressing on the leg, cleaned it out and took measurements of the wound.

While he was busy, Hutch alternated between grimacing, wincing and clutching at Starsky’s hand.

“Fuck” The blonde forced out the one word between gritted teeth just as the doctor stripped the gloves off his hands.

“I know that was uncomfortable….” The doctor nodded his head as he caught Starsky’s darkened eyes and tented eyebrows.

“That had to be done in preparation for surgery tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch before he spoke again.

“It’s six p.m. now and in twelve hours, you’ll be in surgery. But before that happens, you’re going to be quite busy.”

“How long will the surgery take?” Starsky asked but didn’t look away from his still groaning partner.

“A few hours. Won’t know for sure till I get in there. Then the cast gets applied and in a few days, you’ll be going home.”

He then proceeded to write down his findings on the chart while also checking settings on the IV’s, output of the catheter and as a last decision, he ordered the nurse to bring another tray set up to remove the drain from Hutch’s abdomen.

Hutch groaned, ready to verbalize his discomfort.

“Relax, this won’t hurt a bit. In fact you’ll be glad to get rid of it.” True to his word, the doctor took care of the drain with little discomfort for his patient.

Hutch let out a long ragged breath.

Finally the doctor left but immediately two orderlies arrived. The nurse was still in the room and began to explain that Hutch was to be taken for x-rays and tests and would be back in his room in a few hours.

“Well, at least I can keep ya company.” Starsky gathered up the paper that he never finished and tucked it under his arm, ready to follow Hutch.

“Just one moment, you aren’t allowed.” The nurse glared at the visitor as she hurried the orderlies out of the room with their charge.

Starsky followed the gurney, complaining. But Hutch quieted him with a smile and a wink.

“We’ll talk later.” Hutch promised quietly, reaching for Starsky’s hand.

The two connected as they shared the moment, each saying what they felt in their heart through just their eyes.

Hutch felt guilty as he saw the wounded look on Starsky’s face. Most times, Starsky was independent and strong willed. Rarely had Hutch seen this look of vulnerability and love in his partner’s eyes. They needed to talk but the blonde held on to the fact that they’d waited a long time to get to this level of love and he knew Starsky would wait for him.

For the next few hours, Hutch moved, shifted and breathed when he was told in order for the tests to be done. Thinking about Starsky gave him release from pain and worry about the surgery and time to contemplate how their lives might change with this declaration of love.

Hutch realized that it was love that had kept him alive until his friend found him. He had been close to giving up.
He was so lost in thought until a burning sensation in his hand brought him back to his present situation. He’d been given some sort of sedative through his IV. He wanted to protest, to shout that he had a date waiting for him.

“Don’t do it… I need Starsky!” Hutch tried to protest, to swat at the hands that ministered to him.

“Easy there, just relax. You’ve had a lot of pain today. Let the medicine help you.” The male orderly tried to soothe the agitated blonde. He tucked the sheet up around the patient’s chin before he guided the gurney to the elevator.

Hutch felt himself drifting. He forced himself to stay clear headed. He needed to say something to his friend.

“I… gotta….” His words were slurred as he tried to focus and form the thought before it was lost to him.

The orderly patted the man on the shoulder, thinking he was disoriented and scared.

Finally he was wheeled to his room and shifted into bed. Starsky hovered, anxious to continue their earlier conversation. He had spent the time pacing the room, slapping the newspaper against his thigh, trying to stay calm. He was too nervous to sit and read. Once Hutch was settled and the orderly gone, Starsky perched on the side of the bed, disappointed that yet again, they wouldn’t be able to enjoy their new discovery.

He grabbed Hutch’s hand and clutched it tightly to his chest. Hutch struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Love you.” The words were spoken in unison. Starsky leaned closer and planted a soft kiss on Hutch’s mouth. A contented smile spread over the blonde’s face. He requested another kiss before the medication took over completely.

“Again.” Hutch whispered the one word and Starsky gladly complied.

It was neither passionate nor long but it represented the bond between them.

As Hutch settled in for sleep, Starsky ruffled the blonde hair and gently traced the beloved face with his thumb. He started with a gentle caress of the forehead, the beautifully positioned eyes, pale lashes now softly closed. Down across cheeks and hovering over the lips. His thumb lingered there.

When his friend began to snore, Starsky chuckled to himself. He got off the bed and took up his position again in the chair. He continued drinking in the sight of this wonderful man in his life.

Now that he knew that they both wanted the same thing, Starsky couldn’t wait for the day when Hutch would come home.