STARSKY & HUTCH
By: Startisparticus2017- October 2016 – Revised January 6, 2019
Characters: Ken Hutchinson, David Starsky, Captain Dobey, Huggy Bear, Piper, Dr. Long
Intuitive Blindness
Chapter 1
It was another Saturday night at the precinct. Hutch was at the typewriter completing a report. His blond hair was slightly unorganized and a stain of annoyance tugged at his features.
Starsky roamed about the room with a file folder in his hand. He placed it on his desk. "Do you know that Cheryl and Angie aren't on speakin' terms?" The brunet crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at his partner. He knew he was annoying him. He reached up with his left hand and rubbed the side of his face. Smirking, he tilted his head playfully and wiggled his eyebrows.
Hutch stopped typing, and ripped the paper out from the typewriter then crumbled it. "That is the least of my worries, now would you be quiet!" His eyes were like lasers that beamed toward his partner; his lips were tightly pressed together as he tossed the crumbled remains into the trash.
Starsky smirked and strolled over to the coffee maker and poured two cups of coffee. He carefully carried the cup over to his partner and placed it quietly and gently on the desk.
Hutch engaged another sheet of paper in the typewriter and looked at his mischievous partner. "Thanks. Cheryl only dated you because of me, Putz! She owed me a favor." He formed a disingenuous smirk.
While sipping his coffee, Starsky almost choked. He coughed and cleared his throat as he played with the buttons of his blue plaid shirt."That's funny because Angie only dated you because of me, Chump. She didn't owe me a thing, just felt bad 'cause ya didn't have a date." He responded with an as-a-matter-of-fact attitude.
Hutch resumed his one finger key press again, paused and looked at his partner with eyes of cold steel annoyance that held briefly. With the roll of his eyes he cleared his throat. "The big ugly guy, what was his name?"
Starsky made his way over to his desk, moved a few papers around. He stared at the file folder and squinted followed by several blinks. "Jerome Tyrone, for a big guy he sure could run." A look of discomfort crossed his features. "My head hurts all of sudden." Starsky stretched and shrugged his shoulder and rolled his head from side to side; he blinked several times. "But I got 'em! Hey, ya got any aspirin? So, it looks like it's me and you, Blondie." Starsky reached for his cup of coffee, his vision blurred and he lost his balance. He missed the cup and blinked several times and knocked the coffee cup over onto the floor.
Hutch was startled, and frustrated with the distraction. His shoulders tensed as he barked at his partner. "Starsky, will you be careful!" He growled. "Me and you, huh? In your own words… just terrific." Sarcasm escaped his lips. "So, why aren't they talking to each other?"
Starsky rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and shook off the episode of blurriness with a shake of his head. "Think I need some shut-eye. You about done?" He blinked a few more times. "Yup, the girls aren't talkin and they're blamin' us." He widened his eyes and blinked several times. "Somethin' to do with us workin' all the time and cancelin' last minute. Yup, Cheryl blamed you and Angie blamed me…well ya know the story, they're not talkin'."
"NO! I'm not done! You keep interrupting me!" He abruptly responded in anger. "So I'm stuck with you because the girls are not talking and they blame us because we work all the time." He glanced briely at his partner. "So I get to spend my night off with you? That is a cruel and unusual punishment!" Hutch shook his head; a note of irritation was present with his response. With the turn of the blond head a smirk appeared. He wasn't really mad at his best friend.
Starsky shrugged his shoulders and crouched down to retrieve the broken coffee cup on the floor and fell forward. His head pounded and ears rang. He attempted to regain his balance when he grabbed the edge of the desk. Hutch was jolted by the movement of the desk across from him; the irritation radiated from his eyes. "Starsky?" He shouted and then noticed his partner's face which glistened from beads of sweat and had turned pale white. "Hey, you okay?" His voice more of a concerned tone.
Starsky closed his eyes, blinked and took a deep breath. "A headache, I lost my balance. Aspirin?"
Hutch pulled a bottle out of his desk drawer and extended it to his partner. Starsky pulled himself up and tossed the broken cup into the trash. Quickly he placed his hands on the desk to steady his balance. He grabbed the bottle and went to the water bubbler and took a couple of aspirin. His usual buoyant strut not present, he sauntered sluggishly, with his shoulders forward. The aspirin bottle was returned. Hutch watched his every move but held back his 'mother hen routine' as his partner would call it.
Starsky finished his task of filing, while Hutch attempted to type. The pale detective tried to convince himself, actually more so Hutch, that he was okay. He took a deep breath and grabbed the remainder of the file folders off of Hutch's desk then lost his balance and bumped into his focused partner. Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's shoulder, grinned. "Oops! Sorry, Blintz." Starsky continued toward the file cabinet to file; he rolled his head to one side, then the other, and took a deep breath. The pain radiated and he found no relief in anything that he attempted. Another attempt at the shrugging of the shoulders and a massage to the back of his neck increased the level of discomfort.
Hutch was extremely concerned; he focused on the man that stood next to the file cabinet. "How badly did, Tyrone Jerome rough you up?" There was authenticity and devoted concern behind the soft tone in his voice.
Starsky grinned as his color improved a little from blushing. The turning of heads in the room and burning of concerned glares from his colleagues made him uncomfortable. He regained his composure. "That's Jerome Tyrone. The usual, a few punches, kicks, and slams. A few whams and bams...let's not forget kablam! Batman would have been proud." The New York accent punctuated and drawn for show. This created laughter and appeared to put everyone at ease in the squad room.
Hutch stood and grabbed his coat along with Starsky's jacket. What made the blond uneasy was that his partner would moan and groan from a paper cut, but when he was shot or injured more severely he would suddenly become a comedian. Starsky was doing everything possible to deflect and that worried him. "We can finish this tomorrow. Come on caped crusader? Oh, and I'm driving." The blond extended his partner's jacket.
Starsky smirked, raised his left hand, and saluted the worried blond. "I'm okay! Really!"
Hutch waited at the door he was far from convinced, Starsky shrugged and made his way to the door. Hutch followed and mumbled. "You're not okay, even on the best of days, Partner!"
As Hutch drove, Starsky sat with his head back against the headrest of the car seat. He hadn't spoken for almost fifteen minutes, which was unusual. The evident sound of a brake caliper catching causing a smoky rubber smell, along with noise was never mentioned by the brunet. David Starsky and his car were an item and when something was wrong with her, he would harp on it endlessly. Hutch was very concerned; he looked over several times, his mind on overload. He was worried about his partner. "Why don't we get you checked out? Come on, humor me?"
Starsky opened his left eye, turned his head slightly, and looked over at Hutch almost expressionless. "It's just a headache. Stop worryin', will ya?" Starsky closed his eyes; Hutch continued to drive. A frown formed on the driver's face.
They arrived at Starsky's place. Hutch pulled the Torino into the open space in front of the garage. The blond exited the car and glanced over at his partner. Starsky fumbled to get out as though he'd had a few too many libations. He slid out methodically. His balance was off, and he felt unsteady. Hutch noticed and took a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves and fear. He grabbed both jackets in the back seat and followed his friend. Starsky extracted his keys from his partner and fumbled with them. After numerous attempts, he finally opened the apartment door and staggered through the doorway. The keys were left dangling from the lock. Removing the keys, Hutch followed and placed the jackets on the back of the couch and tossed the keys onto the kitchen table. He cupped his hand over his mouth and held it there briefly as he watched with growing uncertainty.
Starsky minus the strut could have been mistaken for a zombie. The unstable curly-headed man went to the bathroom. Hutch had a gut feeling something wasn't right and was not about to leave his partner alone. He went to the closet where he kept a change of clothes and pulled a T-shirt and sweatpants. He went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of beer and bottle cap opener. "I'm beat, mind if I crash?" His voice carried over the popping of the cap which landed on the floor.
Starsky stood near the bathroom door in a dark blue T-shirt and matching sweatpants. He appeared exhausted and stood there as though he were lost or confused. His eyes were mere slits, his face ashen.
"Starsk?" Hutch walked over to him; he lightly touched his shoulder. "Did you hear me? Do you mind if I crash here?" He squeezed his partner's shoulder. "You look terrible!"
Starsky looked around, and then at Hutch's hand that touched his right shoulder, he smirked. "Sure. Ya keep talkin like that I'll revoke the invitation." He rubbed his face with his left hand and headed into the bedroom. He weaved from side to side and made it to his bed, pulled the blankets down and slipped into bed.
"You didn't invite me, Gordo." He raised his eyebrows. "Starsky maybe we should get you to the hospital." Silence hung in the air. "Starsk?" Hutch sipped his beer and waited again for a response.
Starsky couldn't distinguish between reality and dream; he could hear Hutch but couldn't make sense of what he said. Starsky mumbled, tried to focus on Hutch's voice. He just felt horrible and slipped off to sleep. Hutch entered the room, to see his partner was fast asleep.
Chapter 2
Hutch had fallen asleep on the couch; Starsky was restless, he tossed and turned and didn't feel well. He touched his face, grabbed his head and slowly brought himself into an upright seated position. In the doorway was a silhouette of a woman. "Terry?" He leaned forward as though his head were too heavy. The room spun; he swung his feet and stood then lost his balance and fell to the floor. The thud sound from the bedroom ejected the tall blond from his slumber. He looked around and remembered he was at Starsky's. Hutch launched off the couch and headed to his partner's room. He found Starsky on the floor, propped on his side and reaching out. The brunet perspired heavily. His eyes were glossy. "Where'd she go?"
Hutch stopped in his tracks, he crouched next to his partner and touched his shoulder. "Starsk? Hey, what are you doing on the floor?" He looked at his partner in puzzlement. "Where did who go?"
Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm. "Oh…God, my head!" He closed his eyes and squinted then leaned forward and gasped. "I saw Terry in the doorway."
A sense of heartache overtook Hutch as he stood and flipped the light switch. Quickly and carefully he helped his partner to his feet and kept him balanced with both hands grasped on each arm. "Starsk, I'm calling an ambulance. I'm not taking no for answer!"
Starsky swayed. He looked at Hutch. "I can't leave, Terry!" Tears were on the verge of falling.
Hutch's heart pounded. The panic evident and displayed on his face. He guided and sat Starsky on the bed. Hutch knelt in front of his partner, looked into his eyes, which were pale and not their usual indigo blue and his pupils were unequal. "Buddy, Terry's dead…remember?"
Starsky shook his head. He closed his eyes again. "Yeah! NO, no. Hutch my head hurts!" His words were slurred.
Hutch wasn't sure what was going on; all he knew is his partner was hallucinating, confused and in pain. Terry was Starsky's fiancé who died a few years prior at the hands of George Prudholm in revenge of his son Gary who was killed in prison. The man blamed Starsky for his son's death.
Hutch examined Starsky's head; he ran his fingers through his hair and to the back of the neck. The blond partner was in a world of panic, he knew something had to have happened earlier in the chase. He held Starsky's face with both hands; he rubbed his thumbs gently on the pasty cheeks. "Buddy, look at me…look at me!" His hands shook as he repositioned them gently. Starsky tried to focus but found it almost impossible. "Listen; did anything happen earlier…t-try to remember?"
Starsky raised his hand to touch the back of head; Hutch put his hand where Starsky indicated and felt a large lump. He quickly reached over and grabbed the phone on the nightstand and dialed for an ambulance. "I need an ambulance at 2848 Ridgeway, male, possible head trauma, yes…Yes!" He slammed the handset into the cradle.
Starsky looked at Hutch as the room spun, he swayed. "Oh, God, I'm gonna be sick."
Hutch reacted quickly and reached for the metal wastebasket and placed it in front Starsky who leaned forward and vomited. Hutch ran into the bathroom and grabbed a face cloth. His hand shook as he soaked the towel under the running faucet. He raced back into the room and placed the cold material on the back of his partner's neck. Bolting out of the room, the blond changed his clothes, and grabbed his holster and jacket.
Starsky placed the basket on the floor and grabbed his head, his face ghostly white and was covered with sweat. Hutch knelt in front of his partner and set the wet cloth on his face lightly. Starsky was startled, he moved his hand and attempted to touch Hutch and missed. "Hutch…I can't see!"
The blond waved his hand in front of his disoriented partner's face. There was no response or reaction from the troubled curly-haired man. Hutch regained his composure, kept his voice calm, but inside he was terrified. "Its okay, Buddy." He continued to apply the cold cloth when Starsky collapsed onto him. Hutch embraced the unconscious man into his arms and guided him back onto the bed.
"Starsk, wake up, Buddy?" Hutch's voice was strained in fear; he lightly slapped the nonresponsive brunet's face. "Starsky?" He heard the sound of sirens in the distance.
Chapter 3
At the hospital, Hutch sat by Starsky's side as he lay quietly in bed with his eyes closed. Several nurses entered and exited with charts and recorded the vitals. A rather tall man in blue scrubs and lab coat walked in holding a metal chart. He went directly over to Starsky and pulled a flashlight out and opened each eyelid gently and waved the light. "He's still unconscious?"
Hutch stood, he rubbed the back of his neck. "He's been in and out. Is he going to be okay?"
The doctor placed the chart on the bed and extended his hand. "Dr. Long and you are?"
Hutch shook his hand. "Detective Hutchinson, call me Hutch, his partner. He's a cop."
The doctor smiled, stood back and took the chart; he glanced over the paperwork. "He has you listed as family." Hutch wasn't surprised and nodded. "David sustained a blow to the back of his head to the occipital lobe which is the visual processing center of the brain. It contains most of the anatomical region of the visual cortex. I suspect there is a substantial amount of swelling. We are watching this carefully." The doctor closed the chart. "What can you tell me, Detective Hutchinson…Hutch?"
Hutch looked at Starsky and back at the Doctor. "Tell you?"
The doctor pulled a chair and sat. He motioned for Hutch to do the same. "Did he complain of pain, any symptoms, or behavioral changes?"
Hutch sighed, ran his right hand through his hair, he sighed. "Yeah, he said he had a headache. We…he had a run in with a rather large individual, roughed him up. He pointed out the bump on his head. He was dizzy, pale, vomiting. He…mentioned he saw Terry, ah hum…she's deceased."
The doctor crossed his arms over his chest; he processed the information that Hutch gave him. "How long ago did the incident occur?"
Hutch looked at Starsky's left hand. The watch he so often grabbed to check the time wasn't there; he shook his head and glanced around the cubicle for a clock. "About 8:15 pm, we went back to the station to complete paperwork. He seemed fine at first then he knocked a coffee cup over, and it went downhill from there. It was 10:15 or so when I drove him home.
The doctor scratched his salt and pepper head with the pen in his hand; he remained in thought mode.
Hutch, as though someone startled him raised his hand and pointed his finger, he remembered something. "He said he couldn't see just before passing out."
The doctor stared at Hutch for a few seconds, rose to his feet and grabbed his chart. "Has David ever sustained any other form of head injury?"
Hutch looked at him, rubbed his chin. "Yes, concussions. The last was, I believe was a month ago. Why?"
The doctor shook Hutch's hand and turned to leave and stopped and looked back at him. "Detective… Hutch, get some rest, please. David is in good hands. I'll be ordering additional scans and tests."
Hutch stood up and walked toward him, he placed his right hand on his hip and rubbed his forehead. "What aren't you telling me?"
The doctor sighed and looked at his patient then back at Hutch. "Hallucinations and vision loss, has he had any loss of color identity?"
The doctor inhaled in an attempt to remain calm. Hutch looked at him and couldn't seem to process what he had just heard. "I believe in putting it all out there, and you appear to be that type of person. David's future right now is in the hands of the all mighty. We need to diagnose and isolate. Surgery is a possibility to release the pressure caused from the blunt trauma, loss of his vision is a possibility. I can't tell you if this is permanent." The doctor smiled. "I will do everything humanly possible to help your friend." He studied the still shocked blond then left. Hutch nodded and sat back down. He attempted to digest what he just heard.
Chapter 4
Captain Dobey sat in the waiting room; Hutch paced the length of the room back and forth. The Captain attempted to read a magazine, stopped and looked up at Hutch and sighed. "You're making me dizzy."
Hutch continued to pace as though he never heard his superior.
Huggy entered wearing bright green bell bottoms, a mustard yellow shirt and dark green neck scarf, he smirked. "The Asian nurse of beauty, absolutely charming. So what's going on with Curly?"
Hutch continued to pace. Captain Dobey looked at him and back at Huggy, Hutch paused. "He's in surgery to release intracranial pressure."
Huggy walked over to the water cooler and plucked a paper cup. "The skinny, my man? The Bear requires details."
Hutch ran his hand through his hair and began to pace once again. "Starsky may be blind, Hug!"
In mid swallow Huggy spit the water out; he looked at Captain Dobey, and then back at Hutch. "You gotta be kidding me?"
Captain Dobey shook his head no as he loosened the brown neck tie and bowed his head.
Dr. Long appeared in the doorway. Hutch stopped and looked at him. The doctor seemed calm but exhausted. "Detective Hutchinson, surgery is complete…as I suspected there was substantial swelling in the occipital lobe. I did not see any optic nerve damage, but that doesn't mean there isn't."
Hutch shortened the distance between him and the doctor. "What happens next?"
The doctor pulled his surgery cap off and sighed. "We wait until he regains consciousness; it is too soon to really know anything. He needs to rest. He'll be here for three to five days."
Hutch was disappointed. He wanted words of comfort; he needed to hear his partner would be okay. The doctor smiled, placed his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "He'll experience headaches, as for the vision, have faith. Only time can give us the answer."
Hutch couldn't smile, he felt numb and guilty for on the one hand being relieved Starsky was okay and disappointed for the uncertainty regarding his partner's vision. His mind raced and the thought of Starsky not being able to see wasn't settling well with him. How was his partner going to handle this? What if Starsky never regained his sight? The weight of the world bore down upon his shoulders…his best friend's world.
"Dr. Long ah…when…" Hutch couldn't finish the words.
"You can see him in an hour." The doctor acknowledged Huggy and Captain Dobey and left. Hutch didn't know what to say. He cupped his hands to the back of his neck and sighed. Huggy bowed his head and raised his eyes to meet Captain Dobey's glare of fear and worry.
Chapter 5
Starsky slept into the following day. Hutch never left his side. A nurse entered, a petite brunette with a syringe in her hand and walked over to the IV and inserted the needle into the junction. Starsky's head was capped and bandaged almost like a mummy. The nurse smiled. "A little something for infection. Time to wake David up." Hutch rubbed his face. The nurse watched the vitals on the screen and took the sleeping man's pulse. "David! My name is Nina. I'm your nurse. Can you wake up for me, David?"
Hutch repositioned himself to face his partner and leaned in. "Hey, are you going to sleep all day, Buddy?"
Starsky started to move slightly.
"That's it, Buddy! Time to wake-up." Hutch's voice was soothing and calm.
Starsky raised his hands to his face and over his eyes. "My head." His words slurred. His voice was raspy.
The nurse gently took his hands away. "You are going to have a headache, David. I'll be getting you something for that in just a minute. Can you open your eyes?"
Starsky opened his eyes and blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked around. "It's dark, where are the lights?"
Hutch gently grabbed his friend's arm. The nurse calmly spoke to Starsky. "You just had surgery for brain trauma, and the blindness is to be expected." She glanced at Hutch and smiled.
Starsky continued to blink and touch his face. Hutch stood and looked away as he tried to maintain calm and not let his partner know he was scared. Starsky put his hands down and laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. The nurse stood by the bed and made her way over toward the door. "David, I will be back shortly with some medication for that headache."
Hutch turned to look at Starsky. "You gave me quite a scare."
Starsky expressed a tone of seriousness. He was scared and did not hide it from his partner. "Hutch, why can't I see?"
Hutch closed his eyes and placed his right hand on his face and rubbed collecting his thoughts. He knew his partner was sharp; any attempt to withhold information would be a waste of time. "You took a blow to the back of your head. It caused some swelling to your brain that they needed to release. The occipital lobe area. The visual cortex region to be exact. You don't have any damage to the optical nerve that they can currently see, but that doesn't mean that there isn't damage. Dr. Long said it's too soon to tell. They're not sure if the blindness is temporary or per…permanent." The tone of the blond's voice was calm aside from the slight stammer of nervousness, but it delivered a message the brunet was not ready to process.
Starsky swallowed hard; his face projected uncertainty. "When will they know?"
Hutch walked to the window, his hands cupped his face. Dropping his hands slowly to his sides, he turned and walked back. The burden of uncertainty tugged at his heart. The weight of the unknown displayed sadness on the tall blond's features. He wished he could give his partner better news. His heart pounded in his chest; he closed his eyes. "No one knows for sure, Buddy. It could be a few days, a couple of weeks." He pressed his lips together as he fought the entanglement of raw emotions and fear. The dramatic flood gate of liquid formed in his blue eyes.
Starsky closed his eyes, swallowed, all facial features faded into nothingness; he formed a faint faked grin. "Thanks. Listen…I'm tired. I'm sure you are too. Why don't ya go get some rest? I'm okay, go on." His bottom lip pulled the top one in as he tried to extinguish the floodgate of despair. He had to give an award winning performance.
Hutch knew his partner was putting on a brave performance for his sake. "Yeah…um, I'll be back later." Hutch made his way to the door and stopped, he bowed his head and played with the handle. "Starsk, I'm here no matter what happens."
Starsky took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah…thanks, Hutch." He turned his head slightly and closed his eyes to conceal tears that were ready to flow. Hutch opened the door and stepped out. Every fiber of his body hated what was going on, and unlike previous situations with his badge, gun, and detective skills he could be helpful in finding the bad guy. This time, the only bad guys were time and patience.
Chapter 6
Hutch headed to the office to complete the paperwork he and Starsky had not finished. His mind was fully preoccupied. Two seasoned police detectives, Delbeq in his mid-fifties and heavy set, and Yanco a little younger with a crew cut entered the room and poured themselves coffees. Delbeq walked over to Hutch. "Hey, Hutch! How's Starsky?" The question seemed innocent enough; it was the smile that made the blond detective cringe.
Hutch looked up at him and smiled, but didn't want to engage in conversation. "He's improving."
The two officers looked back and forth at each other. "Good, we were wondering if the rumor is true." Delbeq leaned in for the question.
Hutch's shoulders tensed. His smile faded, and he was very uncomfortable. The blond avoided eye contact. "What rumor would that be?" He grabbed and tossed a file folder into the bin.
The officer shrugged his shoulder, and semi-whispered. "Is it true he's blind or is he screwing with you? You know, like that time you faked amnesia? Is he pulling your leg?" He snickered and winked at his partner.
Captain Dobey opened his door just as the officer asked the question. He adjusted his grey suit jacket and pulled his shoulders back. "Delbeq, unless you want crosswalk duty, get to work!"
Delbeq turned, his faced flushed with embarrassment. His partner followed and left the room very quickly like two cats doing the low crawl. Hutch ripped the paper out from the typewriter and put it in a folder and slammed it in the bin. He grabbed his coat.
"Step into my office, Hutch?" The voice of his superior requested.
Hutch's shoulders dropped as he walked into the office. Captain Dobey walked around the desk and sat in the large office chair. The sound of the chair crackling filled the silence of the small room. The door closed loudly. Hutch sat down in the brown leather chair. His tall stance shrunk as he slouched and leaned his elbow on the arm rest and rubbed the crease between his brows.
"Everyone is concerned, and some always feel the need for an angle." The Captain spoke softly then cleared his throat. He fixed his eyes on the blond man before him. "It's been four days, any changes?"
Hutch leaned forward, ran his hand through his hair. "No, no changes, Captain."
Captain Dobey sighed, shuffled a few folders on his desk. "How's Starsky handling it?"
Hutch just stared at his concerned Captain. He clenched his jaw and sighed. "A quiet Starsky is like a game of Russian roulette." Hutch stood up, adjusted his jacket. "I've got to get back. I'm meeting with a therapist. I'll have those reports on your desk in fifteen minutes."
Captain Dobey pulled a slip of paper from his desk and handed it to Hutch. "It's a leave of absence form; you've got time. How are you holding up?"
Hutch took the slip of paper. "I'm...this whole thing really sucks. I'm not the one with a fate that is unknown." He fumbled the paper between his fingers and turned to leave.
"Hutch, we will need to discuss reassigning you a partner when you return from your leave. In case…well, that is if Starsky's sight doesn't return." Captain Dobey glanced briefly as the words slipped past his lips with anxiety.
Hutch grabbed the doorknob, his shoulders raised and his body stiffened. "I have a partner." His tone was soft but firm as he closed the door.
Captain Dobey smirked, sighed as he rubbed his chin. "Harold, you already knew that answer."
Chapter 7
Several days had passed and Starsky still coud not see. Hutch worked with The Blind Association therapist who assisted him with the preparation of Starsky's return home. He spent time shopping and gathered everything his partner would need. Huggy had the chef precook food and stored it in the freezer. Everything remained the same, just a little safer.
Hutch carried a suitcase and delivered it to the bedroom. As he returned to the living room and walked by the closet, he noticed Starsky's holster and gun. The blond's large hands clasped then removed the holstered gun from the hook and wondered if his friend would ever be a cop again. His heart was heavy with emotions as he raised the leather strap and touched his chin and closed his eyes. His thoughts wandered, he sighed, opened his eyes and put the gun and holster back. "I'm not doing this without you, Starsky."
The front door opened and startled him. A woman entered guiding Starsky in. Starsky's head supported a smaller bandage; he looked pale. His eyes were sunk and dark. Hutch moved into position to greet them. "Welcome home, Starsk!" Hutch tried to make it cheery; he nervously placed his hands in his pockets.
Starsky made his way with assistance to the couch. The therapist handed her business card to Hutch. She was average in height, auburn-haired. "This is my office and emergency number." She extended the hospital bag, prescriptions and her business card. Stunned, Hutch removed his hands from his pockets quickly and took them.
"Thank you. You're leaving?" He looked at the young therapist, confused.
She looked at Starsky then back at Hutch, and she pressed her lips together. "David wanted time to himself. I will be returning tomorrow." She headed to the door and turned. "If you have a change of heart, David please have Ken call me. Until then, have a restful evening."
Starsky didn't flinch. He acted as though she wasn't there. Hutch looked at her. He smiled uncomfortably. "Debbie, thank you."
She nodded and walked out the door. Hutch placed everything on the table; he nervously approached his partner as he fidgeted with his hands. "Can I get you anything? The freezer and fridge are full."
Starsky stood and placed his hands ahead. He slowly made his way toward the bedroom. "Let's park the White Knight and mother hen routine, Hutch." He snapped sharply. "I have some cash in my desk drawer, make sure ya pay Huggy or yourself back."
Hutch was dumbfounded. His partner's remark was as though someone just slapped his face. "Come on, Starsk," he responded offensively.
Starsky kicked the leg of the side table and almost fell; Hutch went over to assist him and touched his arm. Starsky pulled away. His face scorned with anger. "I've got it! I said…I've got it, Hutch." His voice was crisp with agitation as his hands balled into fists.
Hutch raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He sighed and shook his head. His partner was not handling the situation very well. The blond felt alienated and helpless.
Chapter 8
Several weeks had passed and Starsky's mood hadn't improved. Hutch opened the apartment door to total darkness; he had mail in his hand. He flipped the light on and looked around. He dropped the mail on the table; the dishes were still in the sink. A chair sat on its side on the floor near the kitchen table. He raised his hands and cupped them over his face. A heavy breath escaped the cupped hands as he slid his hands down. "This place smells and looks like a cyclone hit it. Starsky?" He removed his jacket and tossed it on the couch. A combination of irritation and concern stirred within him. He picked up the chair and placed it back on its legs and walked toward Starsky's room.
Starsky sat in a chair in the corner of the room; he held the white walking stick out in front of him and tapped the floor. The frown on his face was a tell-tale clue that indicated his mood. Hutch rolled up his shirt sleeves. "What happened to the cleaning lady?" Hutch waited for a response, he rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily. The simmering agitation reflected in his tight jawline. "This silence routine sucks, Starsky! Along with your attitude."
Starsky didn't move; he just sat there. Hutch walked out to the kitchen. He turned the knob to the faucet at the kitchen sink and began to wash the dishes. Starsky's features displayed anger; he jumped to his feet and made his way toward the door of the bedroom, hitting the doorway with the stick. "STOP!" The brunet's jaw was clenched tight.
Hutch spun around with a white and blue drying cloth in his hands, he wiped a dish and tossed the towel on to the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, he does speak! One down, let's see what we have in store for the attitude." His voice trailed with sarcasm.
Starsky stopped in his tracks and threw the stick toward Hutch but missed him. The brunet looked terrible, he hadn't shaved, and he wore what appeared to be few days' growth on his face and shabby clothes that seemed to have been worn for several days. "I don't want your help or pity. I don't need a cleaning lady, and I don't need you!" He shouted and pointed with his left hand. "As for my attitude…take it or leave."
Hutch uncrossed his arms, bent over and grabbed the walking stick that landed on the floor before him and placed it on the table. His shoulders rigid, his face showed frustration and hurt. "Starsky, it's not pity. I think you know me a little better than that, Pal. It's called being there for someone you care for or have you forgotten that tiny little detail? Heck, if anyone around here deserves pity, it's me having to deal with you being a jackass!"
The phone rang, Hutch walked over and grabbed it, his features were hardened from the words he just delivered. "Hello, yeah, he's here!" He brought the phone over to Starsky and nudged him with it.
Starsky fumbled around with his hand and grasped the handset swiftly away. He slowly brought it up to his ear. "Hello…who…is this?" Starsky grew even angrier; his voice held a distinct chill. "Listen, if you've got the guts, then come and get me!" He tossed the handset. It crashed onto the floor.
Hutch stood with his mouth opened as shock and concern consumed him. He extracted the handset from the floor and listened, but whoever was on the phone had disconnected. "What the hell was that all about?"
Starsky turned and ran into the table, his arms flailed with his fists tightly clenched. "A cop who can't see!" Starsky spun around in anger; his hands shook as he rubbed his chin. "I'm a sitting duck for every perp with a vengeance!"
Hutch could see Starsky wasn't just angry, he was scared; he grabbed the walking stick and handed it to him gently. "When did this start? Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was tense.
Starsky waved the walking stick and walked toward the couch and sat, he was exhausted. "Yesterday, the day before. They're threatenin' to shoot me. By all means, put me out of my misery!"
Hutch paced back and forth, stopped in his tracks, and frowned. "Where do you get off saying something like that?"
Starsky blinked, stared ahead and rubbed his face. "Hutch I can't watch your back. I'm blind; I can't be a cop." His words were softly spoken and trailed off into a whisper.
The blond's emotions flooded his heart and soul as the words were spoken by his partner. He knew all this, and he couldn't fix it; he paced.
Starsky waved his left hand in frustration; he could hear the blond pacing. "Would ya stop pacin'?" The brunet shouted.
Hutch tightened his jaw while he raised his arms in frustration. He sat in the lounge chair in front of his partner then leaned forward. Starsky was exhausted; he was angry, lost, and scared. "Walk away, Hutch. Please just walk away. You got a life, a future." Starsky's voice quivered. Hutch put his face into his hands; he was exhausted as well; he had been fighting his emotions along with his stubborn partner.
Starsky's expression was that of a boy, his mouth terse. His eyes wandered not able to see but still searched with an unfocused pattern. "You've been there for me always…I can't let ya go on like this. You can't spend the rest of your life taking care of a blind man, draggin' you down. For god sakes Hutch, clerical work? You're a cop! Let Dobey assign ya a new partner?" He rubbed his chest with his hand, bowed his head in sadness.
Hutch stood up and grabbed his coat and looked at the man, once his partner, slumped on the couch. Tears threatened the baby blue eyes that stared at the brunet; his voice showed emotion and hurt tightly coiled together. "You think you'd drag me down! I can't believe this, listen to yourself?" His voice trembled with hurt and elevated several octaves. "You would be doing the same for me, and you know it! I have a partner! Do you hear me? I don't want another partner…partner!"
Hutch tossed his coat across the room; he ran both hands through his hair and took a deep breath, his jaw was rigid and tight. "It has been a month of small talk or complete silence and self-pity." Hutch paced again; anger electrified his body as he impersonated a tall giant. "I have been there for you and never once complained. You know why, Starsky?" His eyes were displayed, watered pools of pain. "I'll tell you why, because you are more than my partner, you are my best friend." The blond stopped, his chin quivered. "You are my family. Who do you think you are dismissing me? Why not put a bullet in my heart?" The tall blond's right hand formed a fist and placed it over his heart.
Hutch walked around the couch, his right hand cupped the back of his neck, his eyes wild. "Did you ever once think that our friendship goes both ways? So you're blind, you can't be a cop, Starsk! We'll do something else. I can't believe what I am hearing from you."
Starsky ejected from the couch and attempted to walk away. Hutch stepped in the line of his path, his eyes wide. "I'm not finished!"
Starsky put his left hand out to push through, his face solemn. "Get out of the way, Hutch!"
Hutch refused to move, Starsky pushed him again with a little more effort causing the blond to step back. Hutch put himself back in the way as though he were a wall. Starsky used both hands and searched. They found their target and shoved. Although prepared, the brute strength knocked the blond backward. Stunned, Hutch regained his balance as he rubbed his chest. He was not going to back down and put himself in Starsky's path again. "What's really going on here, Starsky? You can do better than that!" A challenge lingered in his tone.
Starsky blinked, his teeth gritted together, jaw tight. He swung his left arm trying to hit his partner and missed; he fell to his knees. Starsky bowed his head forward; he couldn't move as the eruption of pent-up anger surfaced. "It's over; we're over, move on, don't look back, GET OUT, GET THE HELL OUT!"
Hutch was angry and grabbed Starsky by the shirt with clenched fists and brought him to his feet. The frustrated blond kept his grip tight; his face twitched, eyes bulged with blue orbs of fury. "You're right! We are over because the man standing in front of me is not my partner. This man makes me sick, you're pathetic." Hutch released his grip mercilessly; he closed his eyes. "Wouldn't want to lose what little dignity I have left, Starsky. Your wish is my command!" He retrieved his coat and went to the door and opened it. He slammed it as though he had left and stood there silently. Hutch fought the floodgate of tears and watched.
The brunet simmered with barely contained rage as he walked to the closet. His hands wandered to find the door; he grasped the knob and opened it. Successful in opening the door, he searched for and grabbed his holster. The unsettled feeling now overcame him. He leaned his back against the wall. Trembling fingers unclipped the leather strap and freed the gun from the holster. Amazingly, he handled it with precision. He placed the baretta on its side against his chest. Tears formed in the pearly blue pools, he squinted as one escaped and flowed down his left cheek. His breath was rapid as he shook from head to toe. He closed his eyes tight, opened them not focused on anything in particular. The once-dry skin was now covered in moisture.
Starsky leaned his head back against the wall, his jaw tightened. His face cringed as he slid down the wall to the floor and cried silently. The gun still secured against his chest, he slowly placed it on the floor by his side. Starsky pulled his knees to his chest then grabbed his head, palms rested on his forehead and his fingers buried in his curls. "I didn't mean it, Hutch. I can't watch your back. I need ya to be safe; this is the only way you'd be safe. If somethin' happened to ya, I'd never forgive myself." His body trembled and the words delivered between silent breathy sobs and bobbing shoulders.
As Hutch stood there, he felt his stomach turn. His heart ached, he couldn't believe what he witnessed. It was clear that Starsky was scared, not for himself, but for his partner's safety...for him.
Hutch turned the knob and opened the door as though he were coming back in and closed it gently. He made his way over to his friend, slowly and cautiously. Hutch sat next to him and relocated the gun on the floor. He extended his right arm over his friend's shoulder and pulled him in against his chest. Hutch placed his chin on his partner's unruly curls; his hand gripped the upper arm firmly.
"I'm sorry, Hutch. I'm scared...I'm so scared!" The brunet's eyes closed, he was ashamed.
Hutch's chin quivered, he closed his eyes and opened them. Tears trickled down his flushed cheeks. He took a deep breath. "You and me both, Gordo. We're going to get through this. Do you hear me?" His voice trembled as he softly spoke.
Starsky wiped his face and nodded. He wrinkled his nose and smirked. "Yeah! I'm thinkin' one of us really needs a shower." He wiped his face and sighed heavily. "Hey, next time ya fake leavin', make sure the door's latched and ya might not want to breathe so hard?"
Hutch smiled and pulled his partner in and held him tight. "I'll work on that, Ollie. Let's get you showered." He chuckled.
Chapter 9
Huggy stopped in with a breakfast take out. Hutch sat and drank coffee, reviewing the newspaper. Huggy unpacked the food, and sipped on a cup of coffee; he tugged the sleeves of the rust-colored corduroy jacket with matching pants. Huggy looked at the clock. "How's my man been?" Hutch put the paper down, rubbed his face. "We had a bad scene last night." Hutch played with his cup of coffee. The aftertaste of what had unfolded remained etched in his mind. Hutch folded his arms over his chest, the black and red plaid shirt wrinkled. "He's worried about me. He's scared for me."
Huggy made his way over to sit in a chair opposite of Hutch. "Our dark-haired compadre can't back you, and that scares him the most."
Hutch reached up with one hand and rubbed the crease at the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, well the thought of going back out on the streets without him…." Hutch took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He reached for his coffee cup and took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. "Some two-bit perverted punk is getting his kicks with threatening phone calls."
Huggy took a sip of coffee as worry glazed his features. "Word's out on the street!" Huggy got up and put his cup in the kitchen sink. He briefly paused as he swaggered back to the table and looked at the worried blond. "I'll keep ya posted if I hear anything. He's tough, stubborn; he'll pull out of this. Take care of yourself."
Hutch smiled and looked at Huggy. "Thanks, Hug."
Huggy made his way out. The bedroom door opened, Starsky was dressed in his jeans and red open V-neck shirt that was inside out. He used the stick and his hand to make his way through. Hutch turned and watched tentatively. "Morning." His voice soft and reserved for his partner. A smile came over his face.
Starsky made his way over to the table and pulled a chair out and sat. Starsky looked terrible; his features showed the stress. "Mornin', coffee smells good. Thought I heard, Huggy?"
Hutch stood and poured him a cup and placed it in front of him. "Straight ahead."
Starsky placed his hand in front touching the cup; he grasped it, then raised it and sipped. Hutch put his hand on his friend's shoulder as he passed by to place the containers of food in the fridge. "Huggy just left, brought some breakfast, interested?"
Starsky seemed far away in thought, and sad. "No, maybe in a while."
Hutch turned away, deep in thought. The vision of what had taken place the night before, the anger, the fear, his friend so paralyzed with fear, the gun. Hutch tensed. A sudden rush of emotion trickled through him. Starsky could feel it; he didn't know how. "You okay, Hutch?" The question left the blind man's lips softly.
Hutch placed the last item in the fridge and turned, puzzled. "What?" Hutch walked over and sat next to his friend and took his coffee.
Starsky played with his cup. He ran his finger tip over the rim. "Are you okay? I could feel ya thinkin." Starsky tilted his head, his eyes searched.
Hutch looked at him and chuckled. "You could feel me thinking?"
Starsky blinked and tilted his head sideways. "Paralyzed with fear, anger, the gun…I wasn't going to kill myself, Dummy."
Hutch's eyes widened, he put his hand to his chin and rubbed. "Umm…ha, yeah."
Starsky grinned slightly and rubbed his cheek. "Now ya wonder what else I feel or a better word, sense?"
Hutch smiled and chuckled. "Exactly!" He sipped on his coffee.
Starsky took another sip of his coffee; he rubbed his lips together, blinked. "No excuses for what I said or did, I hurt ya. I'm sorry, Hutch."
Hutch closed his eyes and sighed, and looked at his partner.
Starsky smirked. "You're staring at me, and ya blinked your eyes."
Hutch looked at him, bowed his head. "You're scaring me, Gordo." Hutch put his head down and fumbled with the handle of the coffee cup. "Whatever it is we got Starsk; it's still there…just minus your sight."
Starsky chuckled; a foolish lopsided grin took over his face. "Intuitive! Your deepest, darkest secrets Blondie are no longer sacred."
Hutch laughed, then took on a tone of seriousness. "When you hurt, I hurt, no apologies, Buddy. We are both in this together." The moment was interrupted by the phone ringing; Starsky's body instantly grew rigid.
Hutch touched his arm and walked by and grabbed the phone. "Hello…Hello, who is this?" The phone went back to a dial tone. Hutch placed the handset back onto the cradle slowly. The cop instincts took over, he walked toward the window in front, and paused, then again to the table. Starsky felt numb, not knowing how to react. "I agree!" The words slipped the brunet's lips, and startled the blond.
Hutch looked at his partner puzzled once again. "What?"
Starsky sighed again. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, some flake is getting' off on screwin' with me, is he serious or not?"
Hutch looked at his partner, shook his head. "This is getting weird, Starsky."
Starsky sipped his coffee, ran his right hand through his damp curls. "Way I'm readin' this is, a male, mid-forties to mid-fifties, phone fetish, loves to taunt, the voice is familiar…um east coast, New York, slight lisp."
Hutch sighed, shook his head. "You left out short, fat, black and female as Dobey would say."
The phone rang again, Starsky maneuvered his way and grabbed his walking stick, Hutch guided him. Starsky answered with Hutch close by to hear. "Hello!" Starsky's features were rigid. There was a brief moment of silence, a male voice with an accent.
"STAR…SKY! How's blindness treating you?" The man's laugh was loud and chillingly sinister. "I was so hoping you could see me when I waste you." The man laughed again.
Starsky remained calm. "Somethin' tells me that bein' blind and not seeing your ugly mug may be a blessin'. What are ya waitin' for?" The sarcasm left the brunet's lips and cut like a knife.
"Ugly…when you least expect it, POW!" The man's voice quivered with anger. His voice louder.
The phone went back to dial tone. Starsky stood there, closed his eyes and allowed Hutch to take the handset. He turned to place the handset back on the receiver. Starsky made his way to the couch.
As Hutch paced, Starsky put his hands to his face, rubbed his forehead. "His appearance, when you mentioned he was ugly, he reacted. It set him off." Hutch grabbed the phone and dialed; he rubbed his forehead as he waited. "Hutchinson, I need three files pulled, Theodore Anges, Ricky Piper, and Stan Bellamy. Also have Minnie run male, mid 40's to 50's, north east, facial scar, birthmark, speech impediment. We'll be there is a half hour, yes we!" A smile formed.
Chapter 10
A half-hour later, Hutch guided Starsky into the office. Starsky utilized his walking stick skillfully. Everyone in the room stared; the silence caused the room to echo. Starsky stopped and frowned. "What's a matter, ain't ya ever seen a blind man before?" He grinned, the initial tension severed and everyone resumed business as usual. A few of the guys walked over and shook his hand. Hutch's heart felt as though it was lodged in his throat; he sighed a breath of relief when everyone responded supportively. He needed a distraction; he leaned in and whispered in his partner's ear. "Your shirt is inside out."
Starsky grinned and elbowed his partner in the gut as he continued to greet everyone around him.
Hutch excused himself along with his partner and guided him into Captain Dobey's office. They sat in their usual chair, Starsky perched on the armrest. Captain Dobey looked at Starsky, then back at Hutch.
"Good to see you, Starsky." Captain Dobey uncomfortable and regretted his wording, Starsky grinned. "Good to be seen, Capt'n! It's wonderful to hear your superior commanding voice."
Hutch chuckled; Dobey looked at them and shook his head. "Would one of you please tell me what is going on?"
Starsky sighed, he stared ahead and rolled the walking stick in his hands playfully. "Well, someone is gettin' off on my inability to see and is makin death threats by phone."
Hutch cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees covering one hand over the other in a fist formation. "Began with hang-ups, the last few were idle threats."
Dobey handed the stack of folders to Hutch, who reached out to them. He started to read them, the stack reasonably thick. Starsky feeling he was crowding his partner stood and managed his way to the other chair on the left. Starsky could feel his Captains tension, and worry and sensed him watching his every move. "Capt'n, don't worry! I'm okay. I've gotten pretty good with this stick. I know my shirt is inside out." A warm smile formed.
Hutch looked up and grinned. "Starsky feels you thinking." Captain Dobey grunted in disbelief. Hutch reviewed each file then placed them on the Captain's desk. "Forget Anges; he's serving 15 to 25. Ahhh, Bellamy, a possible, real creep into porn, piracy, half killed his mother beating her. Piper booked him on rape, armed robbery, suspicion of murder. Bickford 's dead and Combs is serving 7 to 10."
Starsky ran his hand through his hair, leaned his head on his folded fist, slouched elbow on the arm of the chair. "If memory serves me, Piper has a cleft lip, and scars down his right cheek. His mother sliced him with her bottle of booze."
Hutch pulled the folder and picture; he reviewed the contents of the folder. "Bingo!"
Captain Dobey sighed as he fumbled with a pen in his hand. "This is a stretch; we are going based on a voice and Starsky's feeling?"
Starsky motioned his hand as though agreeing. He heard something and focused on it; he sat up abruptly and waved his hand to get his partner's attention. The brunet pointed to the side door that led to the hallway from Captain Dobey's office. Starsky made a motion that someone was listening by placing his hand cupped near his ear. Hutch quietly rose to his feet and turned the knob and pulled the door open to find one of the suited detectives listening in. The suited detective sprung back in surprise to deflect. Captain Dobey was unsettled and angry. "What can we do for you, Garpey?"
Garpey wasn't a fan of Starsky's, the man wore a suit, but slithered when he walked. He wore a blond buzz-cut hairdo and a fake smile with it. He cleared his throat. "Sorry Captain, I dropped some change, I was picking it up. Hey Starsky, Hutch!" Hutch slammed the door in his face. Captain Dobey gave Hutch an unpleasant look, and then glanced at Starsky who raised one eyebrow. "He didn't drop his change we would have heard it." Starsky chuckled, scratched his forehead as he pursed his lips together. "He has somethin' stuck under his shoes, I heard it."
Hutch sat back down, looked at Captain Dobey with his eyebrows arched. "My partner the funkadelic shoe expert."
Starsky frowned playfully and sighed. "Doc says that losin' my sight may enhance other senses, smell, and hearin'." Starsky's head started to hurt a little; his color changed rapidly. Hutch glanced over as he finished combing through the files. "We have an address on Bellamy, nothing current on Piper."
Captain Dobey's phone rang, he reached for it. "Dobey! Patch it through!"
He placed the phone on speaker and pointed to Hutch who whispered to Starsky. "Say, hello!"
Starsky repositions himself to lean forward, his shoulders tensed. "Hello!"
The man stood in a window across from BCPD, several stories high. He looked through a set of binoculars into Captain Dobey's office. He could see the Captain and Starsky. He lowered the binoculars and rubbed the prominent scar on his right cheek. With a grin on his face he stepped aside to allow room for the man next to him to point his rifle. "STAR…SKY! The blind can't play cops and robbers." The man laughed hysterically.
Starsky's face grew tense. "A creep like you, I don't need my eyes to pick you out in a crowd. All I'd have to do is sniff."
The man stopped laughing; his eyes squinted his face twitched. "Can't be a cop, so I guess ya trying comedy. I'd say keep your day job, but we know that's not possible." He chuckled.
Starsky leaned forward a little more and rubbed his forehead. "Suggestions from a bum like you, think I'll pass…say how's the hair lip, Piper?"
The man was stunned; his breathing was rapid and nervous. "Wish I could say it was nice knowing you!" The man went silent; a clicking noise carried over the phone line, the same factory whistle sound from the street below then went to a dial tone.
Starsky tilted his head; panic veiled over his face. The distinct sound of a safety being released from a weapon was heard. "GET DOWN!" He shouted.
Hutch grabbed his partner and pulled him down and he reached over the desk and pulled Captain Dobey by his shirt onto the floor when the glass broke. Starsky went to the floor in front of the desk landing on his partner's legs. Hutch slid his leg from beneath then made it across the floor with his gun in hand. His eyes scanned like a hawk and looked out the window. Hutch gasped for air. "Starsk!"
Starsky sat up against the desk; he caressed his head with both hands. "I'm okay, you? Capt'n?"
Captain Dobey sat up against the wall and loosened his tie. Hutch backed away from the window and leaned against the wall, then took a deep breath. "I'm good, Captain's fine, broken chair, but fine."
The door to Captain Dobey's office flew open; several officers swarmed in, they assisted Starsky out. Hutch and Dobey eyed one another as they walked by the door with a bullet hole.
Once in squad room area, Hutch looked over to see Starsky's face pasted with sweat and exhaustion. He placed his gun back in the holster as Captain Dobey dabbed his face with a white hanky. The Captain leaned against the wooden chair and looked at his blind detective. "Starsky, how did you know?"
Starsky rubbed his face, took a deep breath. "I heard the safety click, and the factory whistle; he gave us the rest."
Captain Dobey was shaken. "Regardless, thank you, both of you."
Starsky's head began to throb. Hutch went to his side and put one hand on his right shoulder and leaned in. "Your head hurts, you need your meds."
Starsky nodded as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hutch now had to figure out how to get him back home and safe.
Dobey stood straight once he regained his composure. "Attention, I want everyone on this; I need an APB on Ricky Piper. Ragetti the file is on the floor in my office. I need a black and white until further notice at Detective Starsky's place. Starsky sat up and attempted to compose himself, his balance displayed a drunken man. He raised his left hand as a thought came to mind. "Wait! Piper's no marksmen."
Hutch placed his hands on the desk to balance himself; he ran his tongue over his bottom lip in thought. "Starsky's right, this was a professional hit."
Hutch began to pace; everyone watched him. He raised his arms, placed his hands on his face and sighed; he looked at his Captain as his hands slid down slowly. "How did he know we were here?"
The room went silent, Starsky balanced himself with the desk before him and tilted his head, and he turned his head toward the sound. "Shoes! A snitch! Garpey is making a break for it!"
Hutch pulled his gun, along with two other officers and they bolted down the hallway. Garpey ran for the nearest exit. Hutch without hesitation leaped into action, his weapon ahead he turned the corner to meet Garpey being detained by two officers with guns pointed at him. Hutch's expression was that of rage; his eyes intimidated the sleazy suited detective as he made his way to Garpey. "You have the right to remain silent." Hutch pulled Garpey's gun from its holster and handed it to another officer and cuffed him.
Minnie escorted Starsky to a lab area with a couch; she assisted him in getting comfortable. Minnie, although plain, had a beauty that glowed inside and out. She played with her glasses and tussled her dark brunette curls. "Can I get you anything, handsome?"
Starsky grinned, placed his walking stick at his side, and reached out to locate her hand. "I may not see, but I can feel your eyes undressin' me."
Minnie giggled; she took his hand and held it, bent over and kissed his forehead. "Starsky, Starsky…you are a doll, the secret is out. I still think you're a trashy boy."
Although Minnie never acted on her secret obsession, she had a real soft spot for the curly-haired man. She left the room; Starsky sat back, putting his head back against the couch and relaxed. Hutch made his way in and leaned against the lab counter; he crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. Starsky knew it was his partner and raise his head. "He's not talking, is he?" The sleepy brunet managed to slur the words out.
Hutch sighed. "NO!" He responded tensely, rubbed his face. "Sorry, Starsk."
Starsky sighed, put his head back. "We know it's Piper, Garpey's had it in for us a long time." Starsky closed his eyes; put his hands on his face. "Garpey was paid off; Piper doesn't have that kind of money."
Hutch paced the length of the counter, paused, leaned against the island again. "No, what if he's our robbery suspect? We've been busting one after another, suppose he's being funded by someone else." Starsky pulled his head up; Hutch saw his partner was in no condition to continue. He crouched down in front of him, placed his hand on Starsky's knees. Starsky reached out and touched Hutch's face. "Quit worrying will ya; didn't your mother ever tell ya your face will freeze like that!"
Hutch smiled, and gently swatted his partner's hand and shook his head. "Let's get you home, Jean Dixon."
Chapter 11
Back at Starsky's place, the black and whites were parked in front and on the street in the back of the house. Starsky was in bed, both men exhausted. Hutch fumbled through some files and made notes. He grabbed the phone near the table and dialed. "Huggy."
At the other end, Huggy leaned against the bar, wiping down the counter. "If it ain't the blond half of the dynamic duo!"
Hutch smiled and chuckled, then rubbed the space above the bridge of his nose. "Say, you know a creep by the name of Piper?"
Huggy pulled the phone to the end of the bar, looked around and lowered his voice. "Unfortunately, dude is a low life with self-esteem issues."
Hutch looked toward Starsky's room, sat back in the chair. "What else do you know?"
Huggy looked around again, flung the towel over his shoulder. "Well, not a whole lot, except he's been waving a lot of cash the past few weeks."
Hutch rubbed his eyes, inhaled. "He's got a contract on Starsky, the phone calls, almost took Dobey out today getting to him."
Huggy pulled the towel off his shoulder and glanced around, resumed wiping the counter. "We are talking big money for Curly."
Hutch tapped his fingers on the table. "Yeah, any ideas?"
Huggy, turned around and covered his face and the phone. "Pendleton!"
Hutch's face froze, his eyes glazed. "If it is Pendleton, his hit man Barganni is to follow suit."
Huggy poured himself a glass of brandy, drank it. He leaned onto the bar and ran his finger over his chin. "Hutch, this is big, I mean big!"
Hutch ran his hand through his hair, his posture stiffened. "What Pendleton wants, Pendleton gets. With Starsky blind, he knows he has the upper hand."
Huggy looked around again nervously. Hutch closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "What about Garpey?"
Huggy pursed his lips. "Weasel cop, Manny claims he's on the take, but then again Manny will sell his first born for twenty bucks and a fix." He stood straight and peered around the room. "The boys in blue were in earlier; O'Reilly spilled the beans after a few drinks."
Hutch took a deep breath, the uneasiness heard in his breath. "Hug we are in deep, I'll understand if you want out."
Huggy lit a cigarette, took a puff. Shook his head and put it out in the ashtray in disgust. "What, leave you with your back as a bull's eye, Curly would have my hide. Huggy Bear at your service!"
Hutch grinned, and worry crept back into his features. "We may need a place to hide, a car."
Huggy grinned as he shuffled. "Have I ever let you down, turkey?"
Hutch sighed, closed his eyes. "Thanks, Hug." He placed the receiver in the cradle of the phone. The need to release the anxiety, he shook his hands at his sides and stood then went to the window looked around.
Starsky sat in bed with his knees to his chest, and leaned his chin on his arms that propped onto his knees. He listened. "Will ya get away from the window!" Loudly enough for Hutch to hear him.
The door opened, and Hutch walked in, he grinned and sat in the soft chair by the bed. "I suppose you're going to tell me next you heard me flossing?"
Starsky lowered his legs; he crossed his arms over his chest. "It was a toothpick an hour ago. Pendleton and Banganni, wish I could say it was a surprise." An as-a-matter-a-fact expression consumed his face.
Hutch looked at him shocked, his mouth open. "You were sleeping, how did…?"
Starsky formed a lopsided grin, stared ahead. "I heard you talking to Huggy." Starsky chuckled. "Close your mouth, Blondie." Starsky's smile faded away; he took a long deep breath. "Pendleton threatened me when I booked him for money launderin'. The man is a real snake with the cash." Starsky shrugged and put his head down, sighed. "Hell of a mess we're in, Stanley."
Hutch rubbed his temple, looked at his partner. "Why yes we are, Ollie!"
Starsky just looked ahead, his grin went away, and a tone of seriousness formed. "Get out while you can, Hutch."
Hutch glared at his partner. "This is not up for discussion, Mush Brain!"
Starsky inhaled. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Do you smell that?"
Hutch sniffed, raised his eyebrow. "I took a shower, Starsk!"
Starsky stood, reached for the walking stick and walked toward the living room and the window. "Smoke! Somethin' is burnin'!"
Hutch removed his gun from his holster and saw the flash from flames. He guided Starsky along his side away from the window; on the ground below was a rectangular sign. It was hollow in the middle a word displayed inside that was lit on fire. The word POW flickered from the roaring flames Hutch looked up the street; the black and whites were gone. "We got a problem; our backup is missing. There's a torched sign with a message…POW."
Starsky moved toward the closet guided by his partner. Hutch reached for Starsky's gun and handed it to him. The brunet's face paled, his hands trembled.
"We got no choice, Buddy. You can do this. Blindman's bluff, well not exactly." Hutch guided Starsky back to the bathroom door. He switched off all the lights, lowered himself to the phone and picked up the handset and dialed.
"Hutchinson, officer assistance needed at 2848 Ridgeway!" The phone line went dead; Hutch placed the handset down slowly on the cradle, he grabbed his partner's shoulder. "They cut the phone line. This is it, Gordo!"
Starsky stood and faced the couch, held his gun with both hands. "Clock?"
Hutch looked at him; he understood what his partner needed. "I'm at twelve, living room at nine, the kitchen at three."
Starsky cocked his gun; he listened attentively and calmed his breathing. Hutch moved into the twelve o'clock position and crouched by the couch. Starsky turned toward the kitchen his head tilted sideways, his face tensed. "Kitchen window!"
Hutch saw the figure walking and raised the gun. "Police, freeze!"
The figure turned and aimed; Hutch fired, the character was struck then catapulted backward. Hutch repositioned himself. "One down!"
Starsky backed against the bathroom door; he held the gun near his face. "Bedroom!"
Hutch watched as a shadow appeared at the door, and the window in the bedroom broke. Piper crawled through the broken window, edging himself into the bedroom. Starsky turned to the right, his gun in front of him. "I got six, Hutch!"
Piper raised his gun, as he snickered. "Goodbye, little piggy!"
Starsky aimed and fired, hitting his target.
Hutch watched in amazement. "You got him, Starsk!" Hutch watched the door as it swung open and shots rang out; he dove for the floor. Hutch lifted his hand and fired three shots; the room went silent as the man at the door fell to the floor. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.
Starsky crouched with the gun still in hand. He trembled. "Hutch? You okay?"
Hutch out of breath lowered his gun and stood. "Banganni is down, I got him, I'm okay!"
Starsky fell back onto his butt; he covered his face with his right hand and wiped the sweat that poured down his face.
Hutch grinned, took a deep breath. "A force to be reckoned with, Starsk. You're weird, but you amaze the hell out of me!" Hutch laughed. Starsky laughed as well, as his chin quivered with pent up fear and emotions.
Chapter 12
Hutch was up and had made breakfast as Starsky lay in bed and rolled over to get up. His clothes were on the stand; he slid his T-shirt and jeans on. He headed toward the doorway, feeling his way and went into the bathroom.
"Hey, made you some bacon!" Hutch caught a glimpse as he placed several strips of bacon on a plate with eggs and toast. A few seconds passed, but there was no response. Hutch put the plate on the counter and made his way toward the bedroom. The door was closed; he leaned his head against it to listen then knocked. "Starsk?" No answer; Hutch grew very anxious; he leaned into the door and listened once again. He turned the knob and entered. Starsky sat on the edge of the tub holding his head. Hutch rushed in and sat on the toilet. "Hey!"
Starsky was startled as though he never heard Hutch come in. His face covered with sweat and he was blanched. "My head feels like I'm in a vice grip!"
Hutch grabbed a face cloth, ran it under water. He skillfully and carefully applied the cold towel onto his partner's pained face. The squeezing grew more and more intense, Starsky closed his eyes and began to shake as he fell forward onto Hutch. Hutch maintained his balance and secured Starsky in his arms.
Hutch wrestled and maneuvered himself enough to assist Starsky to the bed. He reached for the phone and began to dial for an ambulance. Starsky's eyes opened slowly, then blinked. He could see the light, it was blurry, but he could see. He continued to flutter his eyes lids, the pain was gone. Hutch was fighting with the phone, not able to get through. Starsky put his hand up and touched Hutch's arm. "I'm okay."
Hutch turned and put the handset down, missed the cradle and made a second attempt. "You blacked out; we should get you to the hospital." Hutch searched for his partner's shoes and spun in a circle.
Starsky sat up, and blinked. "My shoes are next to you. To the left of the closet." Hutch turned and then paused. He located the shoes. "Thanks…ahhh, how'd!" Hutch froze, his mouth open and eyes wide.
Starsky grinned, tears formed. "Ya look like crap, Blintz! Close your mouth, ya gonna catch flies."
Hutch formed a smile that ran ear to ear and began to run around and shout. "Starsky you can see, he can see!" He grabbed his partner's shoulder and placed his hand in front of his face and displayed his fingers in front.
"Two fingers!" Starsky responded.
Hutch continued to run around, as Starsky laughed, tears of happiness and relief escaped the corner of his eyes.
Hutch knelt on the floor near the bed; tears of happiness filled his eyes. Starsky sat up, wiped his face. Hutch put his hands to his head, his face glowed. "This is beautiful, Starsk."
Starsky placed his hand on Hutch's shoulder, sniffed. "Hey…I'm hungry!"
Hutch laughed, he wiped his tears. "Starsk?"
Starsky blinked and looked over at Hutch. "Hmm, what?"
Hutch frowned, as though deep in thought. "What am I thinking?"
Starsky looked at him with a half-grin that formed. "How to tell me 'bout the new scratch on my car!"
Hutch's eyes widened. He smirked and quickly leaped to his feet. He turned to see his partner frown. Hutch stood with his eye wide open and mouth slightly open in shock. "It wasn't my fault; a shopping cart at the market ran into…it."
Starsky's eyes were wild with anger, his jawline rigid. He couldn't hold it anymore and started to laugh. Hutch flushed and chuckled. "The old woman lost control." He raised his eyebrows.
Starsky stopped laughing. "Ya let my car get scratched? Muttered under his breath trailed with annoyance.
Hutch turned away and rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out as he attempted to leave the room. Starsky smirked. "Don't ya roll your eyes and stick your tongue at me!"
Hutch's eyes bulged as he startled and cringed.
The end.