What Really Matters
Hutch slapped the mars light on the roof of the Torino, and as it started emitting the familiar wail Starsky slammed his foot on the accelerator. Hutch was thrown back in his seat as the car lurched forward in pursuit of the armed robbers and felt a slight pang of anxiety about his partners driving, overridden by a surge of adrenalin that always accompanied a chase. The fact that they were leaving behind two critically injured civilians was added incentive to catch these guys.
Hutch leaned out of his window and saw that they were gaining on the van.
"How many of them were there?" he asked loudly over the background noise.
"The shop owner said four, five counting the driver that had to've been waiting for the quick get-away," Starsky yelled back, his eyes never leaving the road.
Five armed men with no qualms about killing to get their own way.
"Won't be easy!" Hutch observed.
"Nope!" Starsky agreed.
Hutch nodded grimly and picked up the radio. "This is Zebra-Three calling any units in the vicinity of-" He glanced at Starsky.
"Ninth Street!" the brunet provided, swerving sharply as he avoided a line of parked cars.
"-of Ninth Street to intercept a brown van, carrying 5 armed robbers and potential homicides."
"Roger Zebra Three, we are responding," came the reply a few moments later.
That settled, Hutch's attention returned to the van. He had barely registered the sight of a figure rolling out onto the side street before they were speeding past, bullets ricocheting off their windscreen.
Then abruptly Starsky yelled, there was a smattering of blood, and Starsky went limp.
"Starsk!" Hutch shouted frantically, stretching his seat belt to the limit as he reached for a pulse. Don't be dead, don't be dead, he thought repeatedly, seeing only the blood seeping into Starsky's shirt, his fingers fumbling in their haste. He abandoned the effort and grabbed Starsky by the shoulders. "Starsky, you can't die on me now!" No response.
Hutch glanced up, trying not to let the tears fall, and had a split-second to see that they were careening towards a solid brick building. Reflexively he covered Starsky with his body, and then his world exploded in a screech of metal, the shattering of glass and a feeling of intense agony. The last thing Hutch was aware of was screaming before everything went black.
Beep...beep...beep...
A slight, bemused frown creased Hutch's forehead as he slowly regained consciousness and found that all he could hear was a soft but incessant bleeping noise. He knew that it meant something, but his thoughts were muddled and sluggish, so it was a while before it occurred to him that it was the sound of a heart monitor. Strange. Heart monitors were usually found in hospitals, and even then only for patients who were at risk of dying...
Oh.
That realised, other sensations returned, including a very unpleasant feeling of pain. Lots of pain, actually. His head was pounding, breathing was hard and his back ached like anything. In actual fact, his entire body hurt, but his head and back were the worst. Which begged the question... What on earth had happened to him?
He slowly sifted through the options. It didn't feel at all like a bullet wound – although for some reason the thought invoked a dreadful mixed feeling of panic and nausea in him. He shied away from it. A severe beating seemed more likely, but then it would have been more logical for his stomach and abdomen to be in greater pain than his back. A fall maybe? But where on earth would he have fallen from? He spent more time driving around in a striped tomato...
Oh.
A car crash. That made sense. But then, where was Starsky...?
Hutch's eyes flashed open and frantically searched the room for a sign of his partner. No dark mop of curls to be seen.
Panic flared inside him again, and that's when he remembered. Starsky had been shot, and Hutch had forgotten to gain control of the vehicle, so they'd crashed.
Man must have gotten a good angle when we drove past, Hutch thought detachedly. And then it sank in. Starsky had been shot!
Hutch lurched upright and subsequently began gasping as his body screamed its protest at the sudden movement.
There was a patter of footsteps, and then hands were gently but firmly pushing him back down. "Detective Hutchinson, you've been severely injured," a female voice informed him. No duh. "You need to lie down and rest, let your body recover."
Not until I know what happened to Starsky! He tried to say it out loud, but it came out as a rather pathetic-sounding squeak.
A soothing hand was placed on his shoulder – but it wasn't Starsky, where was Starsky?
"Don't try to talk. You're probably wondering what happened," the voice said kindly.
To my partner, yeah, Hutch agreed silently.
"You were in a car crash yesterday-" Was it really that long ago? But Starsky could have died in that time! "-and you've been unconscious for a while." This girl was a master of stating the obvious. "Your body incurred heavy bruising, and you've got quite a lump on your head, but for the speed you were going at you're actually quite lucky to be alive."
Not if Starsky isn't, Hutch thought desolately.
"Oh, and you have a couple of gashes on your back as well as a few minor cuts – the doctors had to remove some glass fragments, but those should heal in no time."
"Stars-ky?" Hutch grated out, the last syllable practically inaudible, opening his eyes and meeting the nurse's gaze in an attempt to make her understand.
She frowned. "Stars?" she murmured. "Oh, uhm, you may be feeling a little dizzy, but that's understandable..."
Hutch wanted to scream in frustration. "Starsky!" he forced out.
The nurse was still frowning in puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I don't-"
This wasn't getting him anywhere. Biting back a painful exclamation, Hutch struggled to sit up again.
"Sir, I have to insist that you stay still," the woman insisted, holding him down.
But what if he's dead?! Hutch couldn't bear the thought, but his mind ruthlessly examined the possibility. There had been so much blood, Starsky had gone limp almost instantly, and then they'd crashed into a solid brick wall! Hutch was supposedly lucky to be alive, so what did that say about Starsky's chances? Nothing very good.
He's dead. He had to be. Otherwise he'd be there, the nurse would tell him rather than keeping Hutch in the dark. She probably wanted him to concentrate on healing, and figured that grieving would take up too much of his strength. He's dead.
Hutch closed his eyes in defeat, unable to face the world. His body shook with emotion, but he couldn't cry. The only place he felt safe to break down in tears was with Starsky, and he's dead. Hutch didn't know what to do. They'd been so close for so long that Hutch didn't know anymore what was Starsky and what was him. They were two parts of the same person now, and without him Hutch was crippled. A chunk of his heart was missing, and he knew he'd never be the same.
Hutch didn't know how much time had passed and frankly he didn't care. Without Starsky everything lost all meaning and purpose – especially the partner he'd left behind.
Partners. Once he got better Dobey would expect him to start working again, probably give him some rookie as a replacement for Starsky. No one could replace him, Hutch thought. And it wasn't just because he was good at his job, although Hutch knew that he was one of the best homicide detectives in the state. No one could possibly hope to fill the gaping hole in Hutch's heart where his best friend, most trusted confident and older brother had once resided. Starsky had been a one of a kind guy – a unique combination of loving, understanding and considerate as well as funny, optimistic, yet determined and forceful when he had to be. He could be annoying at times and had terrible taste in food, but none of his flaws had ever really mattered to Hutch. He might have griped and teased, but the love they had for each other was constant and unyielding. Which was why Hutch hurt so much, and couldn't find the strength inside himself to respond to the nurses or doctors or concerned fellow policemen who came by. None of it mattered anymore.
"Hutchinson!"
He ignored the familiar, gruff voice like he had all the others. Dobey would be wanting a report on what happened, and Hutch couldn't give it to him. Wasn't it enough that Starsky was dead?
"...wrong with him?"
"...don't know...injuries aren't severe...choosing not to respond..."
"...why?"
"...can't say..."
The sound of a door opening and closing.
"Helen! You...last one to talk to him before...stupor...what...?
"...tried to get up a few times...trying to say something...upset and then nothing..."
"...say what?"
"...stars...?"
"Starsky!" Dobey's sharp exclamation made Hutch wince, and he turned away, not wanting to face the pain.
"...that's it...couldn't understand what he was on about...you know?"
"...his partner!"
"...oh..."
Dobey's heavy footsteps circled the bed. "Hutch?"
He didn't respond, didn't want to hear Dobey say that Starsky was dead.
"Hutch, you were asking about Starsky," Dobey pressed. "He's in pretty bad shape, but the bullet was successfully removed from his shoulder..."
Why remove a bullet from a dead man? Hutch wondered absently.
"...and the doctors say he'll recover."
What?
Hutch's eyes flashed open in surprise. "Captain?" he croaked, hardly daring to believe it.
The black man smiled warmly at him. "Your partner's all right, Hutch. You're both gonna make it."
"Alive?" Hutch rasped.
"Yeah," Dobey confirmed. "Starsky's alive. And we got the guys you were after, too."
That news was welcome, but Hutch quickly forgot it in the euphoria that washed over him as he realised that Starsky wasn't dead.
A wide smile split Hutch's face. "He's okay!"
Dobey laughed and patted him on the shoulder, understanding him completely.
"Where is he?" was Hutch's next question.
"In the room down the hall," the doctor supplied. "Sleeping, last time I checked."
Hutch sat up immediately, all pain forgotten. "Room number?"
"602, but Detective you really need to rest and so does he-"
Hutch ignored him, scrambling off the bed. The doctor and Helen tried to stop him, but Dobey called them off.
"He won't rest until he's seen his partner," Dobey explained with a shrug. "That's just how it is with these two."
Hutch flashed him a smile of gratitude, and then burst from the room, practically running in his excitement. Starsky wasn't dead, he was alive and breathing and sure he was hurt, but everything was okay!
602. He found the door easily enough, and it was a physical effort not to go charging in at full speed. The doctor had said Starsky was sleeping, so he had to be quiet. Hutch carefully eased the door open and slipped into the room.
There, lying on the bed in the middle of the room, big as life, dark curls as messy as ever, was Starsky.
Heart whole again and full to bursting, Hutch carefully approached the bed and stretched out a tentative hand to touch his cheek.
"Hutch?" Blue eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze.
"Yeah Starsk, I'm right here."
"Been asking for ya," Starsky said with a tired smile. "They said you weren't doing too good." His eyes searched Hutch's face, then quickly scanned him over. "You look terrible."
Hutch laughed, the sound a little too close to hysteria.
Concerned blue eyes met his again. "What's wrong?"
"I thought – I thought I'd lost you," Hutch admitted shakily. "There was so much blood, and no one told me anything, and I thought you had died..." Hutch was shuddering, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
"Oh, baby..." Starsky sat up and gathered Hutch into his arms, crooning softly.
Hutch buried his face in Starsky's neck, all his fear and anguish spilling out of him until he had nothing more to give. As the sobs gradually subsided, all Hutch felt was blessed relief at having his partner back.
"You okay?" Starsky asked quietly, pulling back slightly and gently brushing away the last of Hutch's tears with his thumb.
"Yeah," Hutch said, wondering how on earth he would have been if Starsky had really died. It was something that he never planned to find out.
"You know, Hutch," Starsky ventured after a few moments, "you saved my life, shielding me with your body when we crashed." He shifted a hand to trail down the bandages on his back that Hutch hadn't even noticed. "It cost ya, buddy. But thanks."
Hutch smiled, the lingering guilt he had felt about not stopping the crash easing. Who was saving whom, really? He wasn't sure that there was any clear distinction when they were recovering from an ordeal. They healed together, and that was what really mattered.
Hutch pulled his friend into another hug and whispered gently, "Thanks." He didn't have to explain what for, because Starsky already knew.