Chapter 1

The room was filled by the horrible rasping sound of a man fighting for breath. Each inhalation was accompanied by a wheeze and each breath out by a gurgle. It had been like that for two days now, although the antibiotics contained in the IV bags hung at the head of the bed seemed to finally be winning the fight against the bacteria. The respirator had been turned off and the room looked almost empty now that the obtrusive machine had been removed, leaving just the isolation bed and it's occupant in the large square space. Only the cardiac monitor, the automatic sphygmomanometer and the suction tubes remained.

The bed's inhabitant was awake for the first time since the pneumonia had really taken hold and was gazing steadily at the eyes of the only other occupant of the room. The sick man had been thus engaged for the past ten minutes and he seemed to draw a measure of strength and comfort from the presence of the other, as though a look and touch could take away the pain and distress his body felt.

'Hey Blondie, welcome back' the brunette sat on the chair beside the bed said softly, 'Ya had us all worried for a while there'.

The blond head on the pillow stared back at his cop partner of seven years. 'How…..long?' he gasped between the titanic struggles for breath, his speech hampered by the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

'Two days buddy. Two very long days' Starsky said with feeling. He'd waited by the bedside all that time with virtually no sleep since Hutch had been taken sick, holding the hand, wiping the sweat from the forehead and generally being there.

'Feel like shit'

The curly head nodded, indigo eyes never leaving the sky blue ones 'We've been here before, buddy. Ya just need to rest an' get well huh?' He watched as Hutch's eyelids drooped and sleep overtook him.

On the Wednesday previously Starsky had parked his big red car outside his partner's apartment in Venice Place and bounded up the stairs to collect Hutch for another day in the inner city. As he neared the door to the apartment he could hear the blonde's hacking cough through the woodwork. He opened the door and went in. They never knocked at each other's doors. For most of their time they lived both together at one venue or the other – it was just more convenient that way. As Starsky walked into the open plan apartment, he could see Hutch hunched over the sink in the kitchen, holding his sides and gasping as the coughing fit subsided.

'Did ya get the cough medicine Ma recommended?' he asked, crossing the room and running a glass of water from the tap. He handed it to the blond who took it with a shaking hand.

'Had nearly the full damned bottle' he muttered. 'Stupid cough just won't go away'. He massaged his ribs with his left hand and sipped some more of the cool water.

Starsky realised his partner was paler than usual and there was a patina of sweat on Hutch's forehead and upper lip. He was propping himself up against the counter top, looking as though to move would mean he'd fall over.

'Not what I usually advocate, but have ya thought of seein' the Doc.?' Starsky asked, knowing already what the answer would be.

The blond gave him a dirty look. 'Ya don't go to the Doc. with a cough an' a cold Starsk. I'll be fine. Give me another dose of your Mom's chicken soup an' I'll be OK' he managed a smile before pushing himself away from the sink and heading to the closet to collect his handcuffs, shield and holster. Once all the items were duly installed he looked back at the brunette who was still standing with his ankles crossed leaning against the counter top, still looking concerned.

'C'mon Gordo. Bad guys to catch, ya know'.

Starsky watched as his partner walked out of the apartment, shrugged his shoulders and followed.

During the day, the cough got no better. They had been tailing a black sedan for some time heading out of the city. The driver was a guy they'd been watching for the past two weeks after a string of jewellery shop robberies had gone down. Fairly sure that the man in front was the fence, Starsky was keeping a moderate distance behind the sedan. It drew up towards the lights at the next intersection, but as they started to change, the driver hit the gas and the black car surged forward. Not wanting to loose their target in the heavy evening traffic, the brunette echoed the action and the Torino gave a lurch as the engine struggled to deal with the extra power. The sedan driver must have seen the sudden hike in speed and floored the pedal, forging ahead as Starsky hit the siren button and prepared to follow.

High-speed chases are nothing like you see on television. They are dangerous and require concentration on the part of the driver and balance on the part of the passenger. Hutch was used to dealing with his partner's death defying antics and took hold of the passenger grab handle, bracing himself as Starsky flung the car through impossibly narrow gaps in the traffic, up hills and round corners. The sedan driver was good, but the brunette was better and within ten minutes the car was out on the open highway, where the Torino's superior V8 engine quickly caught up with the fleeing black car.

The sedan took a sudden left and Starsky almost overshot the corner, the red car's back end side slipping in the dust before the tyres gripped and the traction was restored. The corner had been one too many for the black sedan and as the dust cleared, the two cops saw their target half in a ditch at the side of the road. The back tyre was still spinning and the front driver's side door was open. Both cops drew their weapons, checking bullets were in chambers and safeties were off. Cupping the guns in both hands, they cautiously exited the car and ducked down by its side, listening for the sounds of the other car's driver.

Ahead they heard the scrunch of shoes on gravel and at a barely perceptible nod they both ran forward. As Starsky rounded the black sedan he caught sight of the fleeing back of the driver and yelled

'Police, freeze!' never believing for one moment that he'd be obeyed. He was right and the brunette laid down a covering shot which kicked up dust about 2 yards to the right of the fleeing man's foot. That brought him up dead.

'Cover me' Starsky shouted to his partner and ran forward towards the driver, grappling the handcuffs from his rear pocket. As he got closer, the driver turned, hands out at his side, but the brunette realised too late that one hand held a compact pistol. He had one second to register that the weapon was coming round to target his chest before a blond cannonball rushed past him and ran headfirst into the driver's midriff, hurling both the driver and Hutch to the ground.

Starsky ran forward himself, jumping onto the body of the man who'd just tried to shoot him. Kneeling on the guy's arms, he wrestled the gun from his hand, hopped off the body and flipped him over to secure the hands with cuffs behind his back. Once restrained, he leaned forward catching his breath and began to recite the Miranda.

'You have the right to remain silent……….' He finished the litany and looked around to see where his partner was, checking the blond was OK. He'd taken quite a tumble and Starsky couldn't remember him getting up afterwards.

Satisfied the driver wasn't going anywhere, he stood up, brushing the dust from his faded blue jeans, looking round him. He found Hutch, but the blond was still lying on the ground, where he'd fallen after his headlong plunge. He was on his front and Starsky could see the shoulders heaving. He crossed and gently rolled Hutch over onto his back, suddenly more than a little concerned at the red rimmed eyes and ghastly pallor. Hutch was fighting for each breath and although he'd had to exert himself to get to Starsky in time, he should not have had this extreme a reaction.

'Hutch?'

His partner's ice blue eyes were frantic as the blond struggled to get enough air into his lungs to respond.

'Can't…..breathe' he panted as another wave of coughing assailed him. Starsky pulled him up into something like a sitting position and rubbed his back as the attack faded away, but the breathing didn't come any easier.

'Ya think ya can make it back to the car?' the brunette asked, staring into Hutch's face, as if the answer was there.

'Sure…. piece of….cake' came the rasping reply. But as Starsky started to help the blond to his feet, another coughing attack took hold of him.

'OK, stay there Blintz. S'OK Hutch, I'll go get the car. Don't go away huh?' the brunette pleaded.

Without enough breath to answer, Hutch stuck his thumb up in the universal OK sign and leaned back on his elbow to wait.

Starsky ran back to the Torino and flung the car into drive, covering the scant 100 yards back to the downed cop in mere seconds.

As he slammed on the breaks, he could see that Hutch was loosing the fight with consciousness. He flung himself out of the car and round to his partner.

'C'mon Blondie. Help me out here. Just help me get ya into the car. That's it, ya can do it' he encouraged as the blond got weakly to his feet. With one arm round Starsky's shoulders he leaned heavily on his friend and staggered the three or four steps to the open door. He bent down to duck his head into the car, leaned forward onto the seat and suddenly the world went black.

Starsky saw his partner's body sag back against the seat and managed to manhandle the long legs into the car, closing the door quickly behind him. He trotted back to the driver squirming on the ground and pulled him up by his jacket. Marching him back to the black sedan, he swiftly unclipped the cuffs, inserted one end through the steering wheel and re-clipped them again. Testing them, he satisfied himself the man wasn't going anywhere. He raced back to his own car and picked up the mic.

'This is zebra three. Mildred, ya there Hon?'

'Zebra three, this is dispatch. What can I do for my favourite guy?' Mildred asked.

Starsky quickly told her of the whereabouts of the black sedan, asking for a black and white to drive by and pick up the driver.

'Gotta get Hutch to Memorial' he finished.

'Ya want me to call in "officer down" and get an ambulance?' Mildred asked, worry in her voice.

'Nah, he's not hurt, he's sick. Cough, fever. He's passed out in my front seat. S'quicker to drive him there myself. Just tell Dobey for me?'

'10 – 4 Dispatch out'.

Starsky replaced the mic. on the cradle, gunned the engine and with lights flashing and sirens blazing raced to the hospital.

The nurse on duty when the brunette burst through the doors of the ER recognised Starsky immediately, and also the blond body held in the brunette cops arms. Not that they were frequent visitors. No, not the dynamic duo! She rushed over as Starsky gently laid his partner's limp body on a nearby stretcher and stood back as doctors descended.

Within minutes, Hutch had been whisked away into a side room for tests, x-rays, blood works and the like, and Starsky was left to prowl the corridor waiting for news. It came three and a half hours later from a small Asian doctor.

'Are you Sgt Starsky?' He asked as the curly haired man stood fidgeting. Starsky nodded.

'Your partner has a high fever and a bad dose of pneumonia I'm afraid. I've looked at his medical notes. He was admitted two years ago with a plague-like illness. The one that infected quite a few Bay City residents? Although he recovered from that, it has compromised his lungs somewhat. It's that weakness that has lead to this illness. We have him on antibiotics, but I'm afraid he deteriorated to the point where we needed to place him on a respirator. He must have been ill for several days'.

'He's had a cough for a few days' Starsky agreed, suddenly realising just how sick his partner must have been, and how much the blond had hidden from him. 'Can I see him?'

'He needs his rest. I wouldn't think you'll get any response from him for a while'.

'Don't care. I just need to stay with him Doc' the brunette pleaded.

The doctor saw the need in the indigo eyes and nodded. 'Room 412. Half way down the corridor on the right hand side'. Starsky trotted down the familiar corridor and pushed open the door to the room. It was filled with the hiss and whoosh of the respirator and there was a nurse standing at the side of the bed, reading the monitors and adjusting the oxygen flow and drip rate. She smiled at the brunette as he came into the room and carried on with her observations.

Starsky looked at the blond body in the bed remembering the previous time when Hutch had been sick. Like then, the blond looked way too pale and sweat ran unchecked down the side of his face, pooling in the hollow at the base of his throat. Starsky took a cloth from the bedside table and gently wiped it away. He was thankful to see that Hutch seemed to be resting a little easier, although with the tube in his throat and the machine artificially inflating his chest, it was difficult to tell whether he was any better or not. He took hold of the hand laying limply on the bed sheet and rubbed his thumb up and down it.

'Hey buddy, get some rest huh? just gonna sit here with ya a while. Not goin' anywhere. Just let it all happen an' get well, OK Hutch?' He sat back on the chair and settled down to watch his partner, willing him to get well again quickly.