June 6th- Sonny Thinks He’s a Colonel by Lucy Doty

David Starsky walked into the bullpen with a spring in his step that had been missing the past few weeks. His longtime partner, Ken Hutchinson, was coming back on duty. The sick leave was officially over and things could get back to normal. Once through the doors, Starsky could get a look at the room and one thing in his mind’s eye was conspicuously missing… his partner! There was no Hutch seated at his desk drinking coffee, a second cup poured and waiting for Starsky to arrive.

Capt. Dobey came out of his office to warm up his coffee and Starsky addressed him. “First day back and he’s late???”

“Hutch won’t be in today.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t cleared to come back.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me!”

“His leg’s doing great. I ran with him on the beach this weekend.”

“It wasn’t the department Orthopedist; he released Hutch.”

“Then what is it?” Starsky asked, his agitation building.

“When’s the last time you saw Hutch?”

”Saturday morning. I told ya’, we were running on the beach.”

Dobey looked at Starsky as if trying to read something he felt confused by.

“He was feeling great… looking forward to coming back…I don’t…”

“Dr. Chambers won’t clear him,” Dobey interrupted.

“The departments shrink?? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was. The way it stands now, even if she certifies him fit for duty, there’s no guarantee he’ll come back to Metro. Even if he does, he might not be able to be partnered with you, if Chambers has her way.”

Starsky stared at his captain, a cold hand of dread squeezing his guts and taking his breath away.

“The doctor says you guys are too close. She believes you’re compromised…enmeshed is the term I believe she used,” Dobey continued disgustedly. “I told her she didn’t know what she was talking about, that you and Hutch were my best team…”

Starsky barely heard Dobey’s comment above the pounding in his ears, echoed shortly by the pounding of his tennis shoes as he ran for the parking garage.

Seven weeks earlier

“Mine eyes have seen the glory …prrump, prrump, pomp, pomp, pomp… of the coming of the Lord.” The old man’s voice faded as he marched further away.

“Don’t Go!! COME BACK!!!” Hutch coughed and tried to force some saliva down his dust-dry throat, but it was too little, too late.

The sun was just beginning to cast long shadows across everything. As much as Hutch hated the blinding, scorching sun, he hated the cold that encompassed the night in the desert more. As if his body was agreeing with that thought, a hard chill ran through him.

“Oh God… it hurts so bad to shiver…” Hutch closed his eyes and, crossing his arms over his chest, he tried to breathe slowly and ride out the pain… until the darkness took him.

Starsky ears burned from the dressing down Dobey gave him for his stunt in the elevator. But it was worth it in lessening his frustration and the satisfaction he received from knocking the smirk off Vic Humphries’ face. Driving from Metro to the Pits gave him the chance to cool down before he found out what information Huggy had for him.

Starsky stared at Huggy as he reluctantly gave Starsky the word on the streets. “Roy Slater, a hit man from Tucson has been hired to blast a cop.” Starsky could see on his friend’s face how hard it was to say those words. “It may have already happened,” Huggy finished softly.

“How do I find Slater?” Starsky asked, his voice low but steady. He needed to stay in control; everything depended on it.

Hutch was abruptly awakened from his light doze by a spasm gripping his back and running to his left hip and then down his left leg. Trapped as he was, he could not move in any way that gave him any relief. He groaned and blinked his eyes quickly against the sting of his sweat. He strained to sit up, struggling to breathe through the pain in his leg. He stretched as far as possible until after multiple attempts he could finally grasp the rearview mirror where it landed after being ripped off by the roll-over. He clutched the mirror to his chest, breathing like he’d run a marathon. When he got his wind back, he reached to his right where his weapon rested in the dirt. So close…but so far away and out of reach. He dropped the mirror in disgust and with a strangled sob, threw his arm across his face to provide shade from the blistering sun.

It was after 4:00 a.m.by the time Starsky discovered the whereabouts of Slater’s old girlfriend. He walked slowly down the hall, stopping at room 31. With a silent prayer, he turned the door handle and gave it a small push to open. The room was dark and empty but for a thin woman sitting in a chair by the window, smoking. The neon lights from across the street cast her in an eerie, flashing, orange glow.

“Put your twenty dollars on the table where I can see it. I don’t have all night,” she said without looking to see who had entered.

Starsky approached the solitary figure slowly, almost cat-like. He pulled a straight-backed chair in front of her, knowing he was deliberately pressing into her private space, but didn’t care. He didn’t have a lot of time either!

“Roy Slater…where is he?” Starsky asked, moving closer to sit on the edge of the chair.

When she gave no answer, Starsky continued. “Someone very, very, very close to me might be dead because of your friend, and I got no way of knowing unless I can find him and ask him.”

Carla turned away from Starsky’s glare and mumbled something in the way of an answer. Starsky moved even closer and the action caused her to repeat herself, louder this time. “Hotel Garvey,” she answered.

Starsky stood and rushed from the room, running down to his car as the sky was just beginning to lighten. He drove through the nearly empty streets and slid the Torino up against the curb across from Hotel Garvey to watch and wait.

It wasn’t long before he slipped down a bit lower in his seat, spotting the man he sought walking toward the hotel’s entrance.

Starsky approached Slater with his badge clearly visible. He was not at all surprised when the older man took off at a run. Starsky pursued the perp on foot, and they randomly exchanged fire. Flattening himself against the wall, Starsky counted the shots as they splintered the wooden door by his head. “You’re not even close,” Starsky yelled. He took a deep breath, hoping he had counted the gunshots correctly and opened the door, shouting for Slater to freeze.

Slater never hesitated at all; as a repeat offender, he had little to lose. The desperate man scrambled out of the window, believing he could successfully vault to the next roof. His balance failed him in the attempt and Slater fell. He landed in a ghastly sprawl on the unforgiving concrete many stories down.

Starsky looked out the window at the crumpled body. He swallowed several times, trying not to throw up. It wasn’t looking at the carnage below that sickened him, but the knowledge that the information Starsky so desperately needed to help him find Hutch was equally dead below. For a brief moment, Starsky was transported back to a night long ago when, to protect Hutch, Starsky had shot and killed the only person with the antidote to the poison killing him. He was a bit fuzzy on the details. He remembered firing almost blindly, knowing the possible cost of saving Hutch’s life would be his own. There was no doubt then or now. He could recall, just before he lost consciousness, Hutch holding him as he slipped to the floor of the roof. He could still hear the anguish on his partner’s voice as Hutch asked why he had done it. At that moment, he didn’t have the breath to give a lengthy answer. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” was the best he could do. Hutch’s face was the saddest Starsky had ever seen it, before or since.

Starsky closed his eyes, unable to look at Slater’s body any longer. If only I had gotten to him faster, kept him away from the window… if only. His first chance to find Hutch’s location now lay dead far below, and Starsky’s anguish was fast becoming rage.

“I told Sonny I wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t help me,” Hutch said, speaking conversationally as if his partner was with him. “I actually felt sorry for the old guy when he said he couldn’t help. I’m not sure who he was giving up on… himself or me.” Hutch shook his head slowly. “I gave him my badge and your name. All I could do is pray he’d remember what to do with it, and that somebody would listen to him.” Hutch gave a short dry laugh that morphed into a coughing spell made visible in the air by the drop in temperature after sunset. “Damn, that’s a lot of ‘ifs’ there, buddy.” Hutch sighed and closed his eyes, being still for a moment.

“I’m so sorry, Starsk. I should never have fallen for the ploy that got me out here in the first place. I knew better than to come out here without getting word to you about who I was meeting and where.” Hutch struggled to make enough saliva in his mouth to moisten his lips and swallow before continuing.

“I’m sorry most of all about how you’ll find me… or identify my remains in the morgue if someone has beat you to it. You’ll feel like it’s your fault. I know you will! But it’s not your fault, babe. It’s no one’s fault but mine, and whoever paid the guy in the truck that ran me off the road.” Hutch felt a lump form in his dry throat. “I have so many things I never got the chance to tell you. Never got the chance to…” He felt his eyes burn, but he was too dehydrated to produce any tears.

Starsky was dead on his feet and was hoping the trip to this kid’s house to check out his ham radio set up wasn’t going to be a waste of time. Stifling a yawn, Starsky asked, “Exactly what did you hear?”

“Officer needs help,” the young boy answered with confidence. “Then the signal just stopped and I didn’t hear it again. It never was very strong.”

Hearing those words chilled Starsky’s soul. “Did the transmission say anything else? Any background noise you could identify?”

“He mentioned a name a few times… ah, Sonny… yeah, that was it. Sonny thinks he’s a Colonel.”

Starsky stared at the radio for a few seconds before his sleep-starved brain made the connection and he remembered the old man who had come into the squad room. “Phone… I need to use your phone,” Starsky said, feeling sick that Hutch had sent him a clue and he missed it.

He could hear the crashing of dry brush and scrub-grass from above. It seemed to be coming closer. He stayed stone-still, praying if it were a bear or mountain lion, that death would come quickly. In his mind, he would be glad the whole ordeal was over… Oh Starsky…I hope you’re not the one who finds me… not after dying that way, Hutch thought.

“Hutch!!” A voice sounded from above, then a body slid in the loose dirt and weeds next to him like Pete Rose crashing into home plate. Cool hands caressed both sides of his face. He had to force himself to open his swollen eyes and focus. Please be real, he prayed. So many times in his delirious state that had not been the case. He didn’t believe he could live through one more disappointment.

His blurred vision gradually cleared and he looked up into two worried, deep blue eyes, framed by a head of thick, dark curls.

“We made it, partner,” Starsky said. His voice was strained and Hutch could see Starsky’s Adam’s apple moving, but couldn’t wrap his head around why. Off in the distance he could hear a siren and it was getting closer.

“Hear that, babe?” Starsky asked, as he leaned backward, preparing to stand. “That’s the Cavalry! You’ll be at the hospital before you know it.”

Hutch’s gaze followed Starsky, watching in horror as his partner stood and began walking up the hill. “Starsky… no… don’t go! Don’t leave me! Nooooo!”

“Relax, hey…” and those cool hands were back. “I’m only going up to the road to show ’em where we are. That’s all. I’ll be right back. I think I may even have some water in the car. I bet you’re pretty thirsty, huh?”

Hutch nodded and let the hand he had been reaching out with drop limply to the dirt.

Starsky felt around under his front seat and pulled out an almost full bottle of water. He backed out of the car and gave the door a nudge closed with his knee. He motioned the rescue squad and fire department over to the curve in the road that Hutch’s car had failed to make.

The Fire Captain approached and looked over the side to gauge the equipment and manpower he’d need.

“My partner’s been trapped down there for almost three days. We need to hurry,” Starsky said, then went pell-mell down the canyon side much as he had done earlier.

“Hey, Hutch… I got some water for ya’. Go slow though, okay? So you don’t make yourself sick.” Starsky gently raised Hutch’s head and held the bottle to his lips.

“Not too much,” the Paramedic cautioned. “We don’t know what might have been injured in the roll-over. I’d say the car flipped several times from the looks of it. The ER will be pissed if we bring him in with a full stomach,” the paramedic said as he laid open his jump-kit of first aid supplies nearby.

Starsky eased the water bottle away from Hutch’s lips with a frown, then gently lowered his partner’s head. He snagged a few 4-by-4 gauze pads out of the EMT’s jump-kit and poured some water over them and slowly bathed Hutch’s face. Hutch’s lips were parched and cracking in his sunburned face. Starsky longed to gently place a kiss there, but with BCFD here now, he’d lost his chance.

Another EMT joined the group and was frowning as he tried to establish radio communication with their ER base. “Can’t raise anybody. The reception is too poor here. We’ll have to wait ’til we get him loaded in the rig and get to a better reception area.”

Several other fire/rescue persons were swarming around the car, dragging cables and ropes. One man jumped up on top of the wreckage to better evaluate the plan for extradition and the equipment needed. The added weight caused the car’s frame to shift slightly and Hutch screamed, grabbing his thigh. The sound Hutch made went through Starsky like a sword. He was on his knees before the sound of Hutch’s scream could reverberate into an echo.

“Hang on, Hutch. I’ve got ya’.” Starsky gently pulled Hutch’s hands away from the injured leg and enfolded his lover’s shaking form. “Get the hell off the car, you moron!” Starsky hissed, his eyes blazing hot daggers in the young man’s direction. Suitably mollified, the EMT jumped off, his action once again jostling the wreckage.

Starsky anticipated the repeated onslaught of pain and hugged Hutch tighter, bending over to tuck Hutch’s face in the hollow of his own neck. Hutch’s body trembled and both of the injured man’s fists held tightly to Starsky’s jacket. When the change in pressure of the mangled steel struck Hutch’s awareness, he muffled his scream against Starsky’s chest.

“Easy, babe. I know that hurt. It took you by surprise, didn’t it? It’s okay now. He’s off. That won’t happen again. You got my word on that.”

The Fire Captain motioned with his head to two of his men standing near. “We’re going to have to use the pneumatic jaws to get his leg free.” The older man’s face was grim as he turned to look at Starsky. “Better prepare him for that, if you can. It won’t be quick or easy.”

Starsky’s stomach clenched and he had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. “Can’t you give him something?” Starsky whispered.

“There’s no reception down here to send any telemetry to the hospital. Without the receiving ER getting that first, we can’t give squat! As soon as we get up to the road and headed out of here, we should be able to establish communication with them.”

“Great, after the worst is over!” Starsky replied angrily.

“Can’t be helped,” the Fire Captain stated matter-of-factly, and he gave the go-ahead to his crew to begin.

Starsky positioned himself to take some of the strain off Hutch’s back by resting the blond’s head on Starsky’s thigh. “Hutch…” Starsky swallowed, cleared his throat, and began again. “Hutch… buddy, they have to use the jaws-of-life to get this wreck up enough to slide your leg free.” Starsky took a deep breath and wiped Hutch’s face and neck again. He met his partner’s gaze steadily.

“Yeah, I guess that’s the only way, huh?” Hutch asked, his voice rough.

“Yeah partner… it is.” He left the wet gauze resting on Hutch’s forehead and grasped both of the injured man’s hands. “I’m right here. Squeeze my hands, yell… whatever will help.”

Hutch gave a ghost of his usual smile and closed his eyes as if trying to prepare himself. “Starsk…”

“Yeah?”

“If my leg… if… or when they move the car…if my leg is… is gone…”

“Starsky knew his face clearly showed his feelings and how Hutch’s comment had left him pole-axed. “Don’t think that way partner! If it were gone, it wouldn’t hurt so bad!” Starsky’s voice sounded a more positive affirmation than he felt inside. He sincerely hoped Hutch didn’t pick up on that.

Hutch gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Never heard of phantom pain, huh? You’re a lousy liar, slick.”

Starsky leaned close to Hutch’s ear, ignoring the discomfort of his belt buckle digging into him. “I found ya’, that was the impossible part… and you’re alive! We’re together, and we can get through anything!”

Hutch nodded briefly and whispered, “I love you, too, partner.”

Starsky straightened and nodded his agreement. Hutch gripped onto Starsky’s arm with a force that surprised him. He gripped back with equal ferocity, leaned close to Hutch’s ear once more, and spoke whispers of encouragement faster, hoping to distract Hutch in some way.

Hutch’s body arched and he pressed his face into Starsky’s thigh even before Starsky heard the creaking of the twisted metal. “Oh God…” Hutch groaned, shaking his head back and forth. “Noooo, stop… make them stop… Please Starsky… help me… slug me… shit, SHOOT ME!! I can’t…” Hutch’s grip was vice-like and his whole body stiffened and shook before going abruptly slack and eerily still.

Starsky straightened, his eyes searching his partner’s face, grateful the injured man’s pulse could be seen beating wildly in his neck. Starsky cringed when he heard the mangled metal squeal, and closed his eyes a moment before forcing himself to look at what the extraction crew was slowly revealing.

Starsky stretched his neck to get a better view. “Can you hurry this up and move him while he’s out and can’t feel it?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah… and what about that sharp piece of metal or windshield glass that we can’t see.” The captain paused until Starsky met his gaze. “I know what you’re feeling, son. But it would be a damn shame to filet his leg open like cleaning a catfish and cause your partner to bleed to death.”

He searched the older man’s face, knowing in his heart that the Fire Captain was right.

Needing to do something to endure the frustratingly slow process the crew was using to free Hutch’s leg, Starsky went back to pouring water on the gauze pads and wiping Hutch’s face.

“Okay, Detective, you support his head,” the Fire Captain ordered.

The extradition team did their last minute adjustment and looked to their boss for the signal.

“All right. On three. One, two, three,” the Captain signaled.

Starsky held Hutch’s head and eased backward, crawling on his knees. It took three moves to get Hutch completely free and loaded on a field stretcher.

Hutch’s head tossed slowly back and forth signaling his return to consciousness. The blond’s brow furrowed, and he let out a long soft moan. The moans got louder and in spite of how carefully the rescue squad made their way up the rough canyon terrain, they slipped and stumbled, jostling the stretcher and Hutch painfully.

Starsky followed closely, trying to buffer the bumpy ride, but his sneakers lost their footing in the dry grass too, and more than one such stumble dropped him to his knees. Once up on the road’s flat surface, he breathed a lot easier, hoping Hutch could also.

Taking a few seconds to brush the dirt from his clothing before climbing in the back of the ambulance with his partner, Starsky spotted a Highway Patrol officer he recognized. “Jackson!” he called to get the officer’s attention. “Here, have somebody get my car to the hospital for me, please.” Starsky tossed his keys to Jackson. “I’m riding with my partner.” Without a backward glance, Starsky climbed in the ambulance, sitting on the jump-seat at Hutch’s head. His partner continued to toss his head restlessly, mumbling things that Starsky heard only bits of. Starsky leaned close to Hutch’s ear and softly spoke words of comfort and encouragement, all the while stroking the side of his partner’s face.

The EMT cut up Hutch’s pant leg to expose the injury. From where Starsky sat, he couldn’t see much, but what he did see was Hutch’s leg, dirty and mottled a sickly gray. At least it’s there, he thought grimly, and went back to his whispered litany of distraction, praying it would help.

After a brief inspection of Hutch’s leg, the EMT moved to the side of the gurney and took hold of Hutch’s arm. Without saying anything in the way of warning or explanation, he fastened a tourniquet around Hutch’s bicep and began to roughly thump the inner aspect of the injured man’s arm, trying to find a vein.

Hutch tried to pull his arm away… “Monk, no… no more.” But the EMT’s hold was stronger. Hutch opened his eyes and looked around wildly until he saw Starsky. Hutch’s eyes were glassy and fearful. “Don’t let him… Stop… not again. I can’t do it again. Starsky, make him stop,” Hutch cried, still trying to pull his arm free of the EMT’s grasp as his whole body began to shake. “Please… please don’t let him,” Hutch begged.

“It’s okay; he’s just trying to help you!”

“No…no…promise me, Starsk. Please… you help me, nobody else.”

“Okay. It’s okay. I’m right here with ya’. Nobody’s going to do anything you don’t want them to. Are you hearing me? I’ve got ya’ covered!” Starsky said, his throat tight as he could easily read the fear in Hutch’s eyes and knew the reason for it.

Starsky tried to reassure his partner by repeatedly explaining who the man was and what he needed to do. Hutch never stopped mumbling and begging Starsky to save him. “He’s going to start an IV, you need the fluids, babe. He talked to the hospital ER, and he can give you something for the pain…”

The EMT released the tourniquet with a snap. “He’s too dry, I can’t get a vein. I’ve stuck him three times; I’m not going to stick him anymore.”

Starsky nodded his understanding, feeling relieved on one hand and frustratedly angry on the other. He wrapped Hutch’s arm across his chest, rubbing it. His concern was mounting at Hutch’s lack of orientation. It was such a marked change from when Starsky first reached him at the car. It troubled him how hot Hutch’s skin was feeling in contrast to what Starsky had felt previously.

At one point Hutch’s restlessness slowed and he reached for Starsky’s hand and gripped it tightly. “It hurts…Oh God, it hurts! Why, why now that I’m out from under the fucking car, does it hurt so bad?”

Starsky looked down at his partner, then at the attending EMT.

“The weight of the car’s off now and his leg is starting to swell,” the attendant supplied the answer with a shrug.

Hutch’s eyes followed the EMT’s voice and he nodded his reluctant understanding. “I’m thirsty…” Hutch said, once more searching Starsky’s face.

“I know… here, let me wet your lips with this,” Starsky said, offering the wet gauze. “I know this ain’t much, but right now it’s all I can do,” Starsky explained, not at all sure Hutch had even heard him.

The arrival at the Emergency Room was organized chaos. Hospital staff surrounded the gurney and took over for the EMT’s. There were even a couple of news people with their cameras, greedily jockeying for the best picture of the lost and presumed dead police officer. Starsky was effectively peeled away from Hutch to give information to the registration clerk. Typical, he thought, so he didn’t fight it.

With the required paperwork dispatched as quickly as possible, Starsky went to a pay-phone to call Huggy. As he ended his call, he turned to see his captain coming toward him.

“How is he?” Dobey asked as he approached.

“Alive when we got here… hurting… that’s all I know. They haven’t come out to tell me anything else.”

Dobey nodded and carefully lowered his bulk into a waiting room chair.

“Want a cup of coffee?” Starsky offered, grateful when the captain shook his head ‘no’.

In a few minutes, an older man in scrubs came from the inner ER area and, seeing Starsky and Dobey, he approached them.

“How is he?” Starsky asked, his whole body almost vibrating in his anxiety.

“Lucky to be alive, that’s for sure! Another few hours and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Hours?” Dobey repeated, questioning the doctor’s statement.

“Yes, I mean hours. When he got here, his kidneys were struggling from shock and dehydration. In a very short time, they would have become unsalvageable.”

Starsky closed his eyes and slowly let a breath out, only just now coming to the realization of how near he’d been to losing his lover and best friend. “Can I see him?”

“You’re his partner?”

Starsky nodded.

“He’s asking for you,” the doctor indicated with a thumb over his shoulder.

The older man continued speaking, but Starsky was moving quickly away and didn’t understand the words. Hutch… Hutch… There was no other thought. He had to get to Hutch!

He entered the ER and was met with the usual frenzied activity. “I’m here for Detective Kenneth Hutchinson. He’s my partner,” he told the first person he saw in a lab coat.

“Trauma room six,” the young man answered, and Starsky hurried in that direction.

He was very quiet as he entered Hutch’s cubicle. His lover was so pale, he seemed to melt into the sheet on the gurney. “Hutch?” he called softly, and was rewarded by Hutch opening his eyes. “How ya’ doing, buddy?” Starsky asked, gently resting his hand palm-side down on Hutch’s chest.

“Hurts…” Hutch breathed the word as if saying it any louder would give it more power over him.

“Yeah, I bet it does. You can get medicine for it… to make it easier, then you…”

“No!” Hutch interrupted. “No I can’t, and you damn well know why!”

Starsky recoiled as if struck. “This is different, babe. You’re hurt. You need to take it to get better!” Starsky used his most persuasive tone.

“Last time I was hurt, you gave me a bullet to bite on,” Hutch said, trying to smile.

Starsky looked away, suddenly uncomfortable at the memory of crazy Diana. “Yeah, and look how great that turned out,” Starsky mumbled, tracing the scar on Hutch’s left arm for a second before covering it up with the blanket. “Sorry, no bullet, buddy.” Starsky leaned to the side, the motion lifting his jacket. “See… no gun.”

Hutch’s brow furrowed in confusion for a second before he fixed Starsky with a solid stare. “Where is it? What happened…? What is it you’re not telling me?”

Starsky’s lips compressed in a thin line. For a long moment, he debated how to answer his friend. “I had to surrender it… officer involved shooting resulting in a fatality,” Starsky recited.

“Who’d you shoot?” Hutch asked, puzzled briefly, then taut with agitation as he demanded, “Not Sonny?”

Starsky looked up sharply, replying, “Hell no! He’s a sweet old man.”

“Then who?”

“Humphries,” Starsky answered softly, feeling a little embarrassed. “He woke up from the punch I gave him and was trying to slither away like the snake he was.” Starsky sighed before he continued. “I warned him to stop or I’d fire. He didn’t stop… so I fired.” Starsky met Hutch’s stare squarely. “I got no regrets… Don’t you waste your energy to have any either,” Starsky warned.

“IA’s going to have a field day with that!” Hutch said, with a frown that evolved into a grimace as he tried to move. Hutch gripped Starsky’s hand, and Starsky tightened his own grip on Hutch in kind. “Oh God…” Hutch moaned.

Starsky closed his eyes and, not for the first time, wished he could kill Monk all over again. “Please… please, Hutch. Let them give you something for the pain. I’ll watch your back and be sure you’re handling it okay. I swear!” Starsky pleaded.

Hutch looked hard into Starsky’s eyes, seeing something there that made his decision. “You better,” Hutch whispered. “I don’t have another ‘cold turkey’ in me.” He paused. “I’d have to eat my gun!”

Hutch’s words hit Starsky like an icy avalanche. “No way! I didn’t almost break my neck running down into that canyon to find you, for you to check out that way!” Starsky ran the back of his fingers down Hutch’s cheek. “I’ll go get your nurse.” With a wink and his lopsided grin, Starsky was gone.

It was only a few minutes later that Starsky sat in a chair and leaned toward his partner, making quiet whispers of distraction while the nurse gave Hutch an injection for pain. In all the time Starsky had known the blond, going back to their days in the academy, Starsky could truthfully say he’d never seen his partner looking so afraid.

Starsky covertly slid his hand under the blanket, searching for Hutch’s. Once he found it, Starsky locked their fingers and hung on. He wasn’t entirely sure who was the most comforted by the contact.

The nurse straightened and smiled at them. “That should help!” she offered. “We will be moving him to a room shortly.”

“A room?” Starsky questioned.

“They’ll take him to surgery to fix his leg, but he will need to be hydrated and stabilized first,” she explained.

Starsky nodded, then turned all his attention back to his partner.

“Starsk…?” Hutch called softly, looking as if he could hardly hold his eyes open.

“Right here. I’m not going anywhere,” Starsky promised. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

Hutch nodded slowly. “Yeah… pain’s not totally gone, but it’s a hell-of-a-lot easier to handle.” Hutch took a deep breath and let out slowly. “Sleepy,” Hutch confessed.

“Me, too,” Starsky agreed. “When we get up to your room, we’ll both take a nap, okay?”

Hutch’s relaxed face and soft snore were Starsky’s only answer.

Hutch stood, crutches under his arms, but hands extended in a grand gesture.

“It’s beautiful, Starsky. Just beautiful.”

“Sit down, Blintz.” Starsky held the wheel chair steady behind his partner. “Let’s go home! I want to get you settled in, then I’ll run to the store and get something we both can agree as edible. I don’t mind taking care of you, buddy… but I ain’t gonna starve doing it.”

Starsky pulled the Torino to the curb in front of Venice Place and took the stairs two at a time. Without stopping to knock, he opened the door and entered.

Hutch lay on the couch, his left leg resting elevated on the back of it. His eyes were closed, but Starsky knew his partner was definitely not asleep.

“What did you do?” Starsky demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, you do! Knock off the bullshit!” Starsky stood at the end of the couch, hands on his hips.

Hutch eased his leg down off the back of the couch and slowly swung both legs around and sat up. Hutch remained in that position, not saying anything, not looking up.

“What did you say to Dr. Chambers?” Starsky fired, undeterred.

“The truth…”

“And which truth would that be exactly?” Starsky challenged.

“She asked me what was the very worst part about being trapped.”

Starsky calmed down slightly and walked to sit on the coffee table in front of Hutch. “What did you tell her?”

I told her I wasn’t afraid of dying. As a cop, you face that going in.” Hutch paused and briefly looked at Starsky, then back down to stare at the floor between his knees. “I told her I didn’t want to die there like that and have you be the one who found me. You know, we’ve both seen it… maggots and small animals having gnawed off fingers and toes.”

Starsky cringed at that mental picture. “Jeeze, that don’t sound like you had much faith in me being able to find you!!”

“I didn’t think you would. It would have been my own fault… not yours! I’m the one who was wrong not to have let you know where I was going.” Hutch was quiet for a few seconds. “I knew if I died, you’d blame yourself.”

“That’s all you told her?” Starsky asked, his anger of earlier fading.

“Yeah… Why? What did you think I told her?”

“I thought you told her about ‘us’.”

“What? Why would I do a damn fool thing like that? She’d rat us out to administration. We’d be pulled off the street and re-assigned before you could spit!”

“That’s what she wants to do. She told Dobey we were too close, that we couldn’t be partners anymore.”

“She’s crazy! We are the cops we are BECAUSE we’re that close! We can anticipate each other. Why would she want to break up something that works?” Hutch demanded.

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to let her do it. I’ll quit the force first!”

“We’ve been through too much over the years. I wouldn’t trust anybody else watching your back.” Hutch reached his hand out to rub gently on Starsky’s knee.

“You know I feel the same.”

“I’m supposed to meet her tomorrow in Dobey’s office at 09:00,” Hutch said.

“Good. It’ll be a united front…but right now… I’d like to examine that closeness she was warning us about.” Starsky trapped Hutch’s hand where it resting on his thigh. He stood, bringing Hutch with him. “I think we can make that the project for the rest of the day.”

“Don’t you need to call Dobey?”

“He’ll know where to find me.”

Starsky and Hutch entered the squad room like it was any other ordinary day. Hutch was treated with extra attention, this being his first day back since the accident.

Captain Dobey opened his office door and hesitated slightly, then giving his two detectives a nod, he continued his way to the pile of files in the out-box waiting for pick-up. He added the file in his hand to the pile and looked at his watch. “You’re both in here early. What’s the occasion?” he asked, giving Hutch a welcoming handshake.

“We wanted to talk some things over with you,” Starsky explained, falling in line as Dobey returned to his office.

Hutch brought up the rear, softly closing the door behind him. “Is Dr. Chambers serious about not signing off on me going back to work in my old slot?” Hutch asked, getting right to it.

Dobey looked at both men, then with a sigh, he sat down behind his desk. “That was the last word I had from her. But that was…”

“We’re going to fight it,” Starsky interrupted, his whole demeanor one of defiance.

“Calm down, both of you,” Dobey said.”I had a long talk with the police commissioner over the weekend. I gave him some documentation about your case loads rate of successful convictions. He could not only easily see my point, but agreed with me in my desire to NOT rock the boat!” Dobey paused, obviously pleased with himself.

“So can he do anything to get her to back off?” Starsky asked.

“I left it in his hands. He said he’d deal with the good doctor, and I should expect to hear from him by lunchtime. So, Starsky you’ve got paper work to do… and Hutchinson, I can’t let you back on duty officially until I get a release.”

“I understand,” Hutch said.

“But I don’t see why you can’t sit at your desk and get familiar with the pile of open files that Starsky’s working on. Go…get out of here. When I hear something, I’ll let you know.”

Starsky opened the office door and touched his partner lightly on the back as Hutch walked through it. Hutch gave Starsky a quick wink and took his normal position at his desk. Starsky sat also, with a sigh of relief.

“Don’t let me forget to go by DMV this afternoon,” Hutch requested. “I want to pick up the plates for the car, before somebody sees it parked on the street and steals it.”

“We should be so lucky,” Starsky mumbled, gratefully relaxing into what, for them, passed for normal.