His Hands
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands. A head that was bruised, battered, and beaten, but alive. Starsky had moved heaven, hell, and earth these past three days looking for Hutch. Not knowing if he was alive, not knowing how badly hurt – just knowing that he had to find his partner, his friend, this person closer than a brother.
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands. He felt the bruises, the cuts, and the dried blood. Hutch was weak, but alive. Did Starsky realize that Hutch had held onto life because his life was a part of Starsky? To lose – would mean that Starsky would lose and Hutch would never let that happen. Theirs was a shared life force, bound together by love and tied together by trust.
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands. He looked into those blue eyes that were the windows to Hutch's soul. Windows that could have been shuttered for all time, but were open. Starsky could see Hutch looking at him with love and trust, pushing past the pain of the last three days.
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands. Hearing the distant sound of the ambulance, he coaxed Hutch to stay awake, to stay with him, to stay alive. He let Hutch know that he was there now and would take care of him, would keep him safe, would not leave him.
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands. They were at the hospital, Hutch was bandaged, resting, and would be OK. Again, they had beaten the odds, again they had won the battle of life over death, again there were together. Starsky looked at Hutch, thanking God for this wonderful gift of life and friendship known as Hutch.
Starsky held the head of his partner gently in his hands …and smiled.