All usual disclaimers apply, I don't own the rights, I don't get money, and this is for entertainment only. Please excuse any errors; they are entirely mine. As always, the medical portions of this story have been researched, but please remember that this is a work of fiction and therefore is not meant to be a medical dissertation.
This story was won by E-pony for the Hurricane Katrina Benefit Auction held last year by Wolfpup, hostess of the Bay City Library. All proceeds went to benefit the victims, both human and animal. Not only did Pony win this story, she has been very patient in waiting for me to write it as well as doing the beta work as well. Thank You Pony!
West
By Starsky's Strut
"What are you doing here? This is all your fault!" Mrs. Elizabeth Hutchinson rounded on her son's friend. She took an agitated step in his direction. "Get out of here! You're not wanted!"
"Easy dear…" Richard Hutchinson gently grabbed his wife's arm and pulled her into an embrace. "Nurse, see that this man is removed." He pointedly glared at the distraught, curly haired detective.
"Please, I just want to see him… just for a minute." Starsky's dark-blue eyes pleaded with the couple. "Please? I haven't seen him since the accident –"
"The accident you caused! The accident that left my son – my only son – like this…" Elizabeth's voice cracked as she spoke. She sobbed, then turned and buried her face in her husband's chest.
Richard wrapped his arms around his wife and looked over the top of her head at Starsky. "Fine! Take a good, long, hard look. See what you have done to my son. See what you have reduced him to. I hope you're happy with the results." His light-blue eyes were like chips of ice as he glared at the detective.
Starsky dipped his head and hobbled clumsily closer to the bed. He wasn't used to using crutches yet.
Elizabeth started to push out of her husband's arms. "No! I don't want him anywhere near my boy. Richard, don't let him near my boy –" She was cut off, as Richard once more pulled her to his chest.
"No, dear, let him go. Let him see what he has done to his 'best friend.'" He turned to the detective and sneered, "If this is what you do to your friends, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies."
Starsky kept his eyes on the man in the bed in front of him, not even sparing a glance at his best friend's parents. It had been nearly two weeks since the accident. He didn't remember all of what had happened, but the accident report stated that he had hit some black ice, lost control of the vehicle and slammed into a tree. The passenger side – Hutch's side – had sustained the most serious damage… as had Hutch.
The detective swallowed hard. He had not been allowed to see his best friend, his partner, for the entire time Hutch had been in the hospital. So, he'd finally quit asking and simply made his way to his friend's room – crutches and all. After several thwarted attempts to enter, he had gotten into the private room that Hutch's parents had obtained for their son.
Now, he maneuvered his way to the head of the bed and looked down at Hutch. The bruises had faded to a sickly yellowish-green color; the swelling originally must have been significant, as the blond's face still had some residual puffiness, even after two weeks. Starsky carefully balanced himself on his crutches; then he placed the left one under his right arm, so he could reach out and touch his friend.
"No! Don't touch him! No!" Elizabeth wailed, as she tried to break Richard's hold. "You did this to him. You can't touch him anymore!" She whipped around to face her husband. "Richard, make him stop. I won't allow it!" She beat at his chest with her small hands.
"Calm down, dear, please!" Richard looked about the room. "We mustn't make a scene." He turned back to Starsky. "You are NOT permitted to touch my boy. Not now, not ever again. After today, you will not have access to him… period! I have a restraining order on you, and you are not permitted within 100 feet of Kenneth."
"WHAT!" Starsky gasped, feeling the blood drain from his face. He knew Hutch's parents blamed him for the accident and for the injuries Hutch had sustained. In fact, he blamed himself. The report stated that he had been driving too fast for the road conditions and had lost control after hitting the ice.
Certainly, he remembered driving the rental car from the Duluth airport; he and Hutch had been traveling to visit Hutch's parents for Christmas. Starsky also had a vague recollection of the conversation he and Hutch had been having before the accident. There were a few disjointed memories of riding in an ambulance, and then the next thing he clearly remembered was waking up in the hospital with a broken left leg, badly bruised ribs and a concussion.
Starsky looked away from Hutch's parents and back to his friend. It was his fault Hutch was in that bed. His partner was always bitching at him for driving too fast. Guilt flooded the brunet, and he nearly choked on the knot in his throat. But it would be okay; somehow, he would make it right again.
Starsky clenched his left hand into a fist, as it itched to touch his friend's face, and he gripped the two crutches hard with his right. So what if he couldn't touch Hutch now. He would sneak back later when the Hutchinsons were gone – restraining order or no!
"Hutch?" he called softly.
"His name is Kenneth!" Elizabeth hissed venomously. "Don't call him 'Hutch.' That's not his name."
Starsky closed his eyes and fought for control. He wasn't going to let Elizabeth ruin his first visit with his friend. "Hutch? I'm here, partner. C'mon, look at me… please?"
The blond head twitched on the pillow.
"That's right, partner. I'm here; c'mon… look at me."
Hutch's head twitched again and shifted. The movements were jerky and barely controlled.
Starsky frowned in confusion. "Hutch?"
Once again, his partner's head started jerking, until the pillow stopped it from turning further to the right.
"Hey! There you are, partner! I've… been…" Starsky slowly stumbled to a verbal stop. His fingers crawled unconsciously across the bed toward his friend. His eyes were locked on Hutch's face, and as he watched, he noticed that the light-blue eyes were unfocused and uncomprehending. The blond head continued to twitch on the pillow, reminding him of a baby's jerky, uncontrolled movements.
"Hutch?" Starsky stared for a long moment. There was no recognition in his friend's eyes. None. And as he continued to watch Hutch's face, he saw the blond begin to drool. Saliva pooled in the corner of his mouth, before running down one cheek and onto the pillow.
"Hutch…" Starsky felt as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach.
Richard glided to the detective's side and began to speak quietly, "This is what you've done to my son… my only boy. You have turned a bright, intelligent man into an infant." He paused for emphasis. "The doctors say that he should recover physically, but only with a great deal of therapy. And mentally… he will remain a child. There is some chance that eventually he may be potty-trained and able to speak a few words, but that is the most we can ever hope for."
"I hope you're satisfied with your accomplishment. You have turned my son into a baby – an infant – who must be watched for the rest of his life. Now, get out! Out of this room and out of our lives… forever! Don't come back. You are not welcome here." The last few sentences were a whispered hiss in the brunet's ear.
Tears filled Starsky's eyes, clouding his vision. "I… i-it was an accident. I-I d-didn't mean for this to happen. I'm s-sorry; I'm so sorry."
Elizabeth finally shrugged off her husband's restraining arms and slapped the detective hard across the face. Starsky lost his precarious balance and would have fallen if an orderly hadn't caught him and eased him into a wheelchair. Starsky's cheek burned where the woman had slapped him. If he hadn't already been tearing up, the sting of that slap would have made him do so.
Elizabeth loomed over the detective as he sat in the wheelchair; to Starsky's eyes, she was only a tear-distorted blur. "'Sorry' isn't going to repair the damage you've done," the distraught woman snarled coldly, "not to him… and not to our lives. Get out!"
Starsky merely nodded, too distraught to do anything else. The orderly wheeled him out of the room and down the hall to the elevators. After he was taken back to his room and helped into bed, Starsky turned to his good side and stared at the wall. Tears ran down his cheeks and onto the pillow beneath his head.
XXXX
Three floors up, the blond stared silently at the closed door, tears trailing slowly down his face.
XXXX
Enough of this crap! Starsky wiped his eyes with his knuckles. "They" couldn't keep him from Hutch. It just wasn't going to happen. They could try. But it wasn't going to happen. He would make every attempt to see his partner, and then he would devote himself to helping Hutch recover.
Starsky thought back to the night of the accident and tried to recall everything that had happened. He had already gone over it again and again in his mind. And he was determined to go over it yet one more time. He had to be missing something.
The flight had been normal, if a little late due to the snowfall. He had bitched to Hutch about that. There was a reason he had moved to Bay City, and a lot of it had to do with snow and cold. He hated both of those four letter words.
Hutch had invited him to come along to visit his parents for Christmas, and Starsky had gone for two reasons: one, because Hutch had asked, and two, because his friend had needed him to be there. His partner only rarely talked about his family. Apart from the occasional phone call to or from home and the still-rarer card or letter, Hutch did not seem to communicate with his parents at all. But then, from out of the blue, they had asked him to come home for the holidays.
The why of it would have to wait.
Starsky recalled retrieving their luggage and getting the rental car. The clerk at the rental car counter had tossed the keys at the partners, and Starsky had been the one to catch them.
"I'm drivin'"
"You don't know the way."
"So?""Right. That's never stopped you before, has it?"
"Nope."
Their conversation had continued along those lines, as Starsky had maneuvered the rental car along the snow-covered road. At one point, he had seen a road sign with a Native American name on it. "Hey, Hutch! What do you think my Indian name would be? Huh?"
The blond head had slowly turned in his direction, and Hutch had fixed him with a considering look. Then, one blond eyebrow had slowly risen. "I don't know. How about 'Runs with Scissors'?"
"'Runs with Scissors,' huh? Well, yours would be –"
"Watch the road!""No, I was thinking more along the lines of –"
"Starsky, look out!"
He remembered the car beginning to slide, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't recall anything after that… at least not until the moment he had awakened in the ambulance. And those memories were disjointed and confused.
Further clarity had come in the hospital, as his broken leg was being set and his ribs taped. It was then that he'd been given the news that his partner was worse off than he was. But, until today, that news had just been words.
Today, clarity had met reality when he'd been confronted with Hutch's angry parents. That, coupled with the full impact of seeing Hutch for the first time since the accident, was what made the news finally hit him: His partner had suffered severe brain damage as a result of the accident.
The uncoordinated movements, the drooling, the uncomprehending stare – only now did Starsky fully realize that he might never be able to enjoy Hutch's company again. The white room blurred, and a large knot seemed to rise in his throat.
TBC