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The Wish
By LovinFace
Starsky asked me if I was stranded on an island for the rest of my life, what or whom would I wish I had with me. I just shrugged and said some wiseass crack, like a boat or something. He told me that didn't count, that if I had a boat I wouldn't be stranded on the island for the rest of my life and the question was what would I want if I was stranded on an island for the rest of my life. Again, I said a boat. I told him that I was truly stranded on an island, that of course I would want a boat so that I wouldn't be stranded anymore. This answer frustrated Starsky even more, and he reiterated that if I had a boat, then I wouldn't be stranded. I explained to him again that that was the point. He just sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
Then he looked at me all serious like and said, "You just don't get it Hutchinson."
"Don't get what?" I asked hesitantly, recognizing the first signs of a Starsky tirade.
"You just don't get the question. And you're the one with the college education." He said that last sentence with the hint of a glare.
That pissed me off.
"I get the question, Starsky. It's just a stupid question. Stranded on an island the rest of my life, and I'm not supposed to wish for a boat. What the hell am I supposed to wish for? An endless supply of food and water? My gun? Clean underwear? What the hell am I supposed to wish for?" I cannot believe we're fighting over this stupid question I thought, but I wasn't about to let it go.
Starsky stared straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, accelerating the speed a notch.
"Forget it." He shrugged his shoulder and gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"Fine," I said.
"Fine," he said.
He had taken me home in silence, just giving a me a flick of a wave as I got out of the car. The next day began early…4 a.m. to be exact…
XXXXX
I look at him now, and he's sleeping. We're flying to St. Thomas. The guy's afraid of heights, but he just had to sit by the window. I don't know why though…he was asleep 30 minutes after take-off. He's got a little pillow wedged between the window and his shoulder and his neck looks like it's at an odd angle. But he's in a deep sleep, and after the last two weeks, I don't want to disturb him.
You wouldn't know it to look at him now, but just two weeks ago he had a poisonous compound coursing through his veins. I watched as his body failed him a little at a time. He broke down once in the alley behind Janos' studio. I just held him and let him cry. God knows I was scared that he was going to die in 12 hours…I couldn't imagine how scared he must be. The manhunt was still on for Al Wedell, our last chance for an antidote. I had pulled him up from the steps and headed back to his car. He was breathing heavily and holding his middle tight, barely able to walk. He managed to fish his keys out of his pocket and hand them to me. I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital. He said no.
He wanted to go to the beach. Just for a few minutes. Just in case. So I drove to beach, trying not to glance at the clock in his car, but failing miserably. I parked at a secluded spot and hurried out of the car. He opened the car door and I helped him get out. He walked to the front of the car and half-sat, half-leaned against the hood.
And he watched. He watched the waves come crashing in. He watched the seagulls fly over the water. He watched as a little boy tried to get his kite up into the air. Then he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I don't wanna die, Hutch."
My mind was screaming, my heart was breaking. What could I say to that? I don't want him to die either. If he dies, a part of me dies. Hell, maybe all of me. I couldn't bear the thought. I just reached over to him, draping my arm around his neck.
"You're not going to die, Starsky. We're not going to give up." I hoped I sounded convincing, and maybe I did, because he looked over to me and gave me a smile.
We headed back to the station and shuffled through some more files, hoping that Wedell would turn up. Starsk deteriorated even more, and finally I made him see Cheryl. After that we learned that Wedell was dead and our hopes died on hearing the news.
We were in the squad room, Starsky trying to say good-bye without using the actual words. And then a miracle. A lady recognized Vic Bellamy. We rushed to his apartment and after a shootout on the rooftop, my partner was still dying, and the only man with the knowledge to cure him lay dead. Starsky had killed his only hope of a cure to save me.
Or so we thought. Turns out it was Cheryl's father and in the end I managed to get the poisonous compound so an antitoxin could be made. All's well that ends well, right?
It's just two weeks later and Starsky's tired but well. He tried to trick Dobey into two weeks off, pulling a very dramatic "sick man" act…but truth be told, Dobey would have given him the time off any way, especially after the year we've had.
He's rousing and I watch as he shifts his body, then opens his eyes. "What?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say. But I'm thinking how happy I am that he's here beside me, safe and sound.
"Quit staring at me."
I just smile. "I'm not staring at you. I was just thinking about that question, you know, if I was stranded on an island for the rest of my life?"
Starsky straightened up in his seat. "Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, I think I know the answer."
"Yeah? What's the answer?" he asked hesitantly.
"You. I'd want you with me." I say proudly.
He looked at me incredulously. "You mean, you would want me to be stranded on an island for the rest of my life? I thought we were friends, pals, buddies. You'd want me to be stranded on an island? Whattsa matter with you?"
What was his problem? "Look, Starsk, I just thought it would be nice to have my best friend around. Is that so wrong? I thought that the question was supposed to be about who or what was important in your life. That if you could choose one thing that mattered most, what would it be? And I chose you!"
We both sat there for a minute, neither one of us saying anything. I couldn't stand the silence any longer.
"Okay, smart guy, what would you want if you were stranded on an island for the rest of your life?"
He turned to me slowly and then a grin snaked its way onto his face. "Why, a harem of women of course!" He fingered an invisible cigar and waggled his eyebrows in a pretty bad imitation of Grouch Marx.
"A harem of women? That's your answer?" I asked incredulously. Here I was thinking with my heart, and he was thinking with his….well, you know.
He's laughing now, and I'll admit, I have to join in. After seeing him literally at death's door, hearing his laughter is like music to me. He turns to look out the window.
"Hey Starsk, you realize that I'm getting what I wished for, right?"
He turns from the window looking confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well, we're going to an island. And you're going with me." I say smugly.
He grins at me then, that crooked grin that lights up his entire face. "Oh yeah? Well then, maybe my wish will come true!"
The pilot announces that we'll be landing soon, and Starsky turns back around to gaze out the window. The plane's shadow is dancing on the clouds and he seems mesmerized. And I just sit quietly, watching him.
The End