The blond man staggered back into the room and collapsed onto the bench. His pale blond hair was plastered down to his head, turned a deeper golden by the sweat, which ran in rivulets down his face. He groaned quietly, eyes closed and teeth clenched against the pain suffusing his tortured body. His breath came in ragged hitches, as if he had run a marathon. Quietly his curly haired partner padded over to him.
'Hutch, you Ok?' Starsky stared down in concern at the heap that had been his partner.
'How long?' gasped Hutch, his voice crackling from his dry throat.
'You were gone about an hour, Blintz. How ya holdin' up?'
'Jesus, it hurts…..whole body's on fire. He found every scar, every dent and went to work on 'em. Just wouldn't let up'.
His dark haired partner knelt down next to him, running a soothing hand over his brow, face showing concern for his hurting friend. 'S'Ok partner. Its over now. Just relax'.
'…..think I'm gonna be sick.' Hutch tried to sit up, but collapsed back against the hard wooden bench.
'C'mon buddy, ride it. Just breathe a while. It'll be fine. It's over now'. Starsky continued his murmurings, rubbing Hutch's hand and soothing his friend until Hutch's breath became less ragged.
Suddenly the door opened and the dark bulk of Capt Dobey blocked the door.
'Starsk – you next' he gruffed.
'No way, cap', said Starsky, backing up 'there's no way in hell I'm goin' in there. Look at Hutch – he's a wreck!'
Dobey scowled towards the smaller man, kneeling on the floor, sympathy shining from his dark brown eyes.
'I know. But it'll be over soon. I never wanted to put you both through this, but, now the departments got this new physiotherapist…………'