Missing scene from Fatal Charm
"So, did the doc give you the all clear to go home tonight, Hutch?" Starsky walked into the examining room where Hutch sat on the bed, looking a little pale after having the large slash in his upper arm stitched up. A white sling encased his arm and shoulder and he was wearing one of those awkward open-backed hospital gowns. He handed a bottle of pills to Starsky, who glanced at them and put them in his coat pocket.
"Yeah, we can go right away. Can I get a little help with my clothes? It's kind of hard getting dressed with my arm like this." Hutch stood up, looking a little shaky on his feet.
Starsky quickly reached out to steady him. "Hey, you okay there? You looked like you were going to pass out on me. Maybe you should sit down. You lost quite a lot of blood, you know."
"I'm fine. Can you get my clothes, please, and then let's get out of here. I hate hospitals." Starsky helped Hutch get dressed and they left the hospital, Hutch leaning heavily on Starsky's shoulder.
You're coming to my place where I can look after you. I'm not letting you out of my sight right now, babe."
Hutch sighed. "That sounds like a good idea. My bed's all ripped up anyway."
"Starsk?"
What is it, Hutch?"
" Why did she have to wreck my guitar? Anything but that. And my plants?"
"I don't know, buddy. Some people are just crazy, that's all. We'll find someone to fix your guitar. I'm sure it can be fixed. Thank God you're still in one piece and here with me. You don't know how happy I am."
"Not as happy as I am, Starsk." Hutch said.
Starsky helped Hutch get into the passenger seat of the Torino and closed the door. He went around the other side and got in. "Do you need anything? Did they give you enough painkillers for now? You want something to eat or drink?"
"No, I just need to get some sleep. The doc gave me a whole bottle of pills, so we don't need to stop anywhere." Hutch leaned his head back against the seat of the car and closed his eyes. His heart was still pounding from the adrenalin rush, making him feel lightheaded and very tired.
Starsky assisted Hutch up the steps and into his apartment. He went to his bedroom and found a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt for Hutch to wear. Then he helped Hutch change into the clean clothing and got him into bed, propping his injured arm on a soft pillow.
"There you go. You shouldn't need any painkillers for a few hours anyway, because they gave you that shot at the hospital. Get some sleep, it'll help. Want me to stay here with you?"
"No, that's ok. 'Night, Starsk." Hutch awkwardly settled himself back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
"Make sure you call me during the night if you need anything, because I don't want you getting out of that bed alone. That medicine might make you dizzy." Starsky cautioned.
"Yeah. So tired…." Hutch yawned and snuggled deeper into the pillows.
"Good night, Blintz. Sweet dreams." Starsky sat on the floor near the bed, leaning against the wall. Even if Hutch didn't want him here, he was staying until he was reassured that his friend would be all right.
After making sure Hutch had fallen into a deep sleep, Starsky went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He sank down onto the couch and turned the TV on, keeping the volume low. He was so angry and upset by what had happened that he was shaking, although he'd kept it under control around Hutch. He took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down forcibly. "You can't lose it, Starsk. Not now. Hutch is going to be okay." Starsk muttered to himself, taking a long drink of his beer.
Starsky had known that the nurse was bad news from the time that they'd gone dancing, but what could he have said to Hutch that wouldn't have pissed him off; probably nothing. The look on her face that night was frightening, and knocking that drink over was not something a nice person would do. And what was up with that expensive engraved watch? What a nutcase. Thankfully, Hutch was strong and quick enough to get away from her, or he could have been identifying Hutch in the morgue tonight. He shuddered, not wanting to think about that at all.
After watching TV for a while, Starsky slugged back the rest of his beer and got up to check on Hutch, who was still sleeping heavily. Getting a pillow and blanket from the hallway closet, he made up the couch for the night. His neck would be killing him in the morning, but who cared? A sore neck was a small price to pay for knowing his partner was safe in the other room.
Suddenly, the image of Hutch kneeling on the floor, holding his smashed guitar, flashed through his mind. Starsky had to struggle again to stay calm, and made a mental note to himself to find someone to repair or replace Hutch's beloved guitar. It was the least he could do for his best friend.
After one last check on Hutch, who was now snoring lightly, Starsky yawned and turned out the light. "Have a good sleep, Hutch, love ya, buddy." he whispered.