Hutch…help.
The words fell through the phone receiver and landed in the pit of Hutch's stomach. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. He fumbled through the darkness for his clothes, his badge, his gun. In no time at all, he was ready to rush out the door. But his ensemble still wasn't complete.
"Starsk, I'm coming…"
He found Starsky shivering with fever and lying on the carpet next to his bed, unconscious. Hutch sank to the floor, called an ambulance, and placed a shaking hand right over his partner's frantically beating heart. He prayed Starsky could feel it.
Hang on. Please…
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