Chapter 2

The blond man went down, his gun clattering to the floor and he rolled over on his side. He clutched at his shoulder and leg.

"Hutch!" Starsky, his breathing heavy and harsh, rushed over to his partner. He gently turned Hutch over on his back. Scarlet red arterial blood was streaming from Hutch's left thigh.

"Get in here! Officer down! Call an ambulance!" Starsky shouted at the SWAT team. They swarmed in, surrounding Rogers, but Starsky hardly noticed. Dave tore off his jacket, the bulletproof vest and then his shirt. He rolled the latter into a makeshift bandage and pressed it hard against Hutch's thigh wound to try to stay the flow of blood. It blackened quickly-too quickly, Starsky thought, but he continued to hold it there, even though it wasn't doing much good. Blood was oozing through his fingers and splattered on his jeans. "Come on, Hutch! hang in there. You are not going to die on me." Then he spotted Molly, frozen to the spot a few yards away, watching this drama unfold in front of her. "Mrs. Rogers, do you have towels? I need all of the towels you can lay your hands on."

Molly blinked at him as if she was just awaking from sleep. "Molly, get the damn towels! My partner is seriously hurt here!"

She scurried into the kitchen.

Through clenched teeth, Hutch said, "What in the hell happened?" Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm.

"Rogers got you, buddy. I'm here, Hutch." The blond's face was drained of all color from the loss of blood and beads of perspiration were glistening on his forehead. Starsky placed a hand there. It was cold and clammy. Hutch was going into shock. He was also getting weaker by the minute. Hutch looked down at his leg and saw the blood streaming from the wound.

"Oh, my God!" he closed his eyes against the sight, then opened them again and looked at his partner.

"Jill?"

Jill! His wife was here. She must have heard the shots. She was probably frantic with worry, not knowing who had been injured. It had always been just Hutch and him before. Now there was another person in Hutch's life, another person who loved him. But he wasn't about to leave his partner like this. But he knew she had to be told.

"Marty, go out and tell Jill what's going on." Starsky yelled at one of the SWAT team members.

"Who's Jill?" The man didn't have a clue.

"His wife. The social worker that's here. Ask around. Just go, dammit!"

"Hey, buddy, you don't have to shout. Starsky-" Hutch grabbed his partner's arm. His grip was so weak. Starsky felt tears sting his eyes. "Starsky-if anything happens, take care of Jill for me."

"Nothin's gonna happen. Where are those damn towels? Molly!"

The slovenly woman returned to the dining room at his bellow, carrying an armload of towels. She dumped them on the floor beside Dave. He pressed a towel against each of Hutch's wounds. While he pressed down on the thigh wound, he said to another man on the SWAT team, "Come over here and hold this on his shoulder." The man kneeled at Hutch's side and did as he was told. The towel blackened with blood quickly and he placed another towel on top of it.

"Come on, Hutch, hang on-" God, there was so much blood. Too much. Starsky knew if the ambulance didn't get there soon, they might lose Hutch. He wasn't about to let that happen. Hutch couldn't die. If he did, a large piece of Starsky would die with him. Hell, that wasn't true. He might as well die, too. Hutch was his best friend, his partner, closer to him than a brother. They had been through so much together. No wacko with a gun who liked to beat up on his wife was going to end it. Starsky continued to urge Hutch to hang on as he kept placing towel after towel on top of the thigh wound. Hutch finally slipped into blessed unconsciousness, but Starsky was terrified he had succumbed to the loss of blood. "Hutch!" Starsky frantically felt for a pulse at Hutch's neck. It was there, but it was weak and thready.

Starsky barely heard the siren of ambulance in the distance. He was too focused on stopping the streaming blood. He was marginally aware when the paramedics rushed into the house and surrounded them. The SWAT team member who had been tending to Hutch's shoulder wound moved away to give the paramedics room. Then one of them tried to push Dave aside. He didn't go quietly. It took three of the SWAT team guys to pry Starsky from Hutch's side. He fought them every step of the way, kicking and punching at them, so he could go back to Hutch. After they had Hutch on the stretcher, Starsky went back over to his partner and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. There was no answering squeeze. An indescribable pain clutched at Starsky's chest. Jill ran over to them when they came out of the house.

"Ken! Oh, my God!" her face was white as paper. She grabbed Hutch's other hand. When he didn't respond to her touch, she looked at Starsky, terrified, her lips unable to form the words of the question she was afraid to ask.

"He's only unconscious, Jill." Jill now saw the extent of her husband's injuries. They had torn his shirt and a bandage covered the shoulder wound. His cords had also been torn up the inseam to accommodate the bandage on his thigh. Both were soaked with blood. Jill's face went even whiter and Starsky was afraid she was going to faint. He dropped Hutch's hand and circled the stretcher to catch her under the arm.

"You tore his shirt." Jill said to the paramedic in a voice Dave had never heard before. It was distant-almost disembodied. "That was one of his favorite shirts. He loves that shirt. I gave it to him last Christmas." Jill felt a hysterical laugh bubble up inside her and tried to stifle it. It erupted anyway.

"Jill?" Starsky realized what was happening. She was becoming hysterical. "OK, take a deep breath, honey. Take deep breaths. Come on, Jill. It's ok. You can do this."

Jill gulped in several deep breaths as she tried to calm herself.

"She's his wife and I'm his partner. Can we ride in the ambulance with him?" he asked the paramedic.

The paramedic nodded. "We'll take him to Memorial."

Starsky nodded and helped Jill into the ambulance after they had placed Hutch inside.

Jill was at the coffee machine in the emergency waiting room at Memorial Hospital, trying to put money in the slot, but her hands were shaking so hard, she couldn't insert the coins. Starsky, now wearing Hutch's jacket to cover his bare chest, threw the magazine he had been idly leafing through down and moved over to her.

"Here, let me-" Starsky took the coins from her and slid them into the coin slot. He took out the coffee cup and gave it to her. Stasky steered her back toward the waiting room and they both sat down. Jill looked at what the hospital called Hutch's personal effects lying in a bag on the chair next to her. His badge. The loose change from his pocket. His handkerchief. His wallet. His pocket watch. And his wedding ring. She picked it up and tears sprung to her eyes. She'd had it specially made for him. It was a heavy setting-a small square cut diamond surrounded by turquoise. To all outside appearances it was just a man's ring that Hutch just wore on his left hand, but they knew the significance. It had been worth the price she paid for it when she saw the look on his face when she showed it to him for the first time. His blue eyes had lit up—he liked turquoise-and then became misty. He had kissed her soundly and said he would treasure it always. He had not taken it off since she had placed it on his finger on their wedding day.

Jill choked out as she clutched the ring in her hand, " Oh, God , Dave, he can't die. I don't know what I'll do."

"He's not going to die. He's in the best hospital in the city and in the best hands. Besides, he's too damn stubborn to die."

That brought a little smile to Jill's lips, then she sobered. She said in a shaky voice: "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so pigheaded about going to the Rogers', I wouldn't have walked into Joe's trap and dragged you and Ken in."

"Now stop right there. This is not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

Just then a doctor came out.

"Who's here for Ken Hutchinson?"

"I'm Jill Hutchinson." Jill rose from the chair.

"We're taking your husband up to surgery. We have to stop the bleeding. The bullet in his thigh nicked the femoral artery. He's in very serious condition right now. I'm afraid it's touch and go."

"Oh, God-" Jill's knees buckled and she sat down hard in the chair again. Starsky sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders in support.

"When will you know?" the dark haired man asked, his voice gruff with worry.

"We'll let you know the minute anything happens. Surgery is on second floor if you want to wait in the waiting room up there." The doctor left them. Starsky helped Jill stand up and they walked over to the elevator. They rode it up to second floor and sat down in the waiting room.

Starsky and Jill sat in silence for several moments, then a thought occurred to her.

"Work! I have to call Gretchen." She started to get up, but Dave grabbed her arm and sat her down again.

"I already called her, Jill. She knows the situation. I've told Dobey, too. We're both clear for today."

Again silence reigned for several minutes, then Jill said quietly as she twisted the rings in her wedding set on her left hand, "Ken and I had started talking about having kids, Dave."

"I know. He told me."

"I should have known." she replied wryly. "You guys really do talk about everything, don't you?"

"Pretty much. We're partners. We spend a lot of time in the car, cruising. Have to spend the time somehow." Starksy shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

"No, I'm glad he has a friend like you." Jill grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"So you're sure you really want a little blond Hutch running around?" he teased her, grinning that famous Starsky grin.

"We could have a little red headed Jill, you know." she teased back, then she became serious again. "He's never been hurt this badly the entire time we've been together."

"I know. But he has been in worse situations and come through. When that fiend Forest got him hooked on heroin comes to mind."

"I remember him telling me about that. His living hell, he called it. Tell me how you got him through it."

"Why in the hell would you want to hear that story again?" Starsky couldn't imagine why she would want to hear this, especially since it involved one of Hutch's former girlfriends.

"Like you said, we have to spend the time somehow. Please, Dave."

Starsky realized that Jill didn't really want to hear the story again: she was grasping for something to hold on to right now, a situation that Hutch came through because his situation now was so precarious. So he relayed the story. God, he would never forget holding his partner in his arms as Hutch went through the horrible sweats and pain of heroin withdrawal. It had torn him up to watch his best friend go through that. It still hurt to even tell the story again. That memory opened the floodgates to others when he and Hutch had been there for each other: when Hutch had been run off the road and was pinned beneath his car in a deserted canyon and was seriously injured, when Hutch had been deathly ill with a plague, when Starsky himself was poisoned, when he was shot during a shootout at an Italian restaurant and was seriously injured by a bullet in the back, when he was shot at the police station by two guys dressed up like policemen in a professional hit. By the end there were tears standing in Starsky's blue eyes.

"If he can get through those situations, the blond blintz can get through this." Starsky and Jill clung to each other for several minutes, drawing strength from each other and their mutual love of Hutch.

When Dave's stomach rumbled, he broke away and wiped his eyes.

"I didn't have time to eat breakfast. Did you eat breakfast?"

Jill nodded. "Just one of Hutch's concoctions. I was in a hurry."

Starsky pulled a face at the mention of his partner's breakfast concoctions. Hutch was a health food nut and, in Starsky's opinion, came up with all kinds of weird things to put in a blender for what he called breakfast. Give him cold pizza and root beer any day.

"That's not breakfast. I'll go down to the cafeteria and bring us back some real breakfast."

He left and was back in five minutes flat with two steaming plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and two fresh cups of coffee. Jill hadn't realized how famished she was until she wolfed down the food. It must be the stress of worrying, she thought. Hutch's concoctions were nutritious, but sometimes they weren't very filling. After Dave deposited the empty plates into the trash can, they continued to sip at their coffee while Jill picked up, leafed through and quickly discarded every magazine available and Starsky paced. As Jill threw down the last magazine, she broke the silence.

"Dave, please sit down. You're driving me crazy with that pacing."

"I can't. I have to keep moving." He was already wound up tight from worrying about Hutch and the coffee had just fueled it more. He didn't have any bad guy to chase so pacing seemed a viable alternative. Thinking of the bad guy in this brought Starsky up short. He didn't know how seriously he had injured Joe Rogers: Hutch had been his primary concern after he knew he had disabled Rogers. He did know one shot had been in the leg and he had aimed high for his second shot. Whether he got him in the shoulder or chest, Starsky wasn't sure. Since he had used deadly force to bring Rogers down, there would be a report to write and he would have to account for the shots. "Jill, stay here. I'd better check on Rogers. Dobey will want a report."

"Why? I hope you killed him."

Starsky had never heard Jill sound so bitter. She was the most compassionate person he had ever met. But he understood why she was feeling that way, of course. After all, the man had put her husband in the hospital, fighting for his life. It was natural she would want him dead. Right now she was too worried about Hutch to think straight.

Starsky just nodded In acknowledgment. He moved over to the nurses' station and caught the attention of a pretty young blond nurse. He grinned at her as he pulled out his identification and flashed it. "Hi, I'm Dave Starsky, police."

The nurse grabbed the identification to check it, then said:

"Yes, Sargeant Starsky?"

"Can you check on the condition of a patient for me? Joe Rogers. He came in with gunshot wounds. I'll need it for my report."

The nurse checked the register of patients and replied, "Oh, yes, here he is. Gunshot wounds to leg and shoulder. He's in surgery to remove the bullets. Fair condition. He's expected to recover."

"Thank you very much." Starsky shoved his identification back into his jeans pocket and returned to his seat next to Jill.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I didn't mean that about Joe Rogers. How is he?"

"I got him in the leg and shoulder. He'll be all right. And it's perfectly understandable you would feel that way about him. He shot Hutch."

Jill nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat as tears again welled up in her eyes at the possibility that, while Joe Rogers would pull through, Hutch might not. Starsky put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed in reassurance he was far from feeling, too. They sat in silence for a long time. After a while, Jill, exhausted from the events of the day, rested her head on Dave's shoulder and fell into a fitful sleep. Starsky glanced over at her, remembering the day this pixie of a woman had walked into their lives--and stolen Hutch's heart. He and Hutch had taken a little girl from her mother and Jill had come over from Children's Services to pick her up. The partners had still been desk bound about a year and a half after the Gunther shooting while Starsky was waiting to be cleared by the doctor for street duty again. After spending most of his time looking at his partner's mug during that time, it wasn't any wonder to Starsky that Hutch had fallen quickly for a much prettier face. Dave smiled at the memory of Hutch even stammering over his name 'Hutch-Hutchinson'. Jill still teased him about that, using it occasionally. Jill was not a stunning woman outside like so many Hutch had dated-she was more cute than beautiful-but she was a beautiful person. He had liked her immediately, too, and they had quickly become a threesome-or a foursome with whoever Starsky was dating at the time. Jill fit right into their relationship and had become a good friend to him while she was becoming more and more important to Hutch. Starsky never brought up the similarity in her name with Hutch's lost love Gillian. The partners had spent many an hour in their car talking as Hutch worked out his fear of marrying again after his failed marriage to Vanessa and had finally worked up the courage to ask Jill to be his wife. Starsky smiled as he remembered that day eight months after they had met. Hutch had been so scared. When Jill said yes, he kept asking her if she was sure. Starsky had never seen his partner so happy as he had been since he had met and married Jill and that made him happy. All because of this sweet woman who had touched both of their lives. Dave smiled and closed his eyes, too. God, waiting was as tiring as the worrying. He drifted off to sleep.

Captain Harold Dobey, Starsky and Hutch's boss, lumbered off the elevator and walked into the surgery waiting room. It was now lunchtime and he had decided to come down to get the latest news on Hutch. He had a soft spot in his heart for the two men, 'his boys', even though they sometimes irritated the hell out of him for their cavalier attitude toward reports and rules. Dobey smiled when he saw Starsky and Jill sleeping on the sofa, Starsky's arm still around Hutch's wife in protection. Hutch's two biggest fans, he thought. If anyone could pull Hutch through this, the love these two people had for him could. Captain Dobey moved over to the nurses' station.

"Hello, I'm Captain Harold Dobey, police." he held up his identification for the nurse to see. "What is Sargeant Hutchinson's status?"

The nurse checked the patient register. "He's still in surgery, Captain."

"Thank you."

Dobey went over to the sofa and gently shook Starsky's shoulder. "Dave?"

"Huh? What? Hutch?!" Starsky was immediately alert. Of course his movement woke Jill up, too, and Dave became aware of a prickling in the arm he'd had around her: it had fallen asleep. "Ow-my arm." He rubbed it as he looked up and saw the Captain. "Cap'n, what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd come down and check on Hutch. It's lunchtime."

"It is?" Starsky glanced at his watch. It read a little after noon. No wonder his arm hurt: he and Jill had been asleep for about two and a half hours. "So it is. What is the word on Hutch?"

"They said he's still in surgery."

"What is taking them so long?" Jill suddenly exploded in anger, her frustration getting the best of her.

Just then the same doctor who had told them Hutch was going into surgery came out of the OR, taking off his mask. He walked over to them.

"How is he, Doctor?" Jill asked. She couldn't tell from the look on the doctor's face whether it was good or bad news.

"He made it through the surgery, but he's not out of the woods yet. He lost a lot of blood. The next few hours will be critical. His condition is still serious, Mrs. Hutchinson. But, on the plus side, your husband seems to be in excellent physical condition. That could go a long way in his healing."

"You mean those concoctions he drinks, the water fasts and the jogging actually do some good?" Starsky said wryly.

"Whatever he does to stay in shape, yes."

"Can I see him, Doctor?" Jill asked.

"He's in recovery, but he's still unconscious. He won't know you're there, Mrs. Hutchinson."

"Yes, he will."

The doctor looked at Starsky who shrugged his shoulders. "She's his wife." Dave said simply.

"All right. We're taking him up to a room. He'll be on fourth floor-room 414. Give us a few minutes and I'll let you see him. But only for a few moments."

Jill, Dave and Captain Dobey took the elevator up to the fourth floor and sat down in the waiting room. Another waiting room, Jill thought. More waiting-and worrying. When was it going to end? She sighed. You better get used to it, Jill Marie, she told herself. This is what being married to a cop is going to be like. Jill almost wished her grandmother was still alive: her grandfather had been a cop, too, and she could commiserate with her.. Starsky took her hand, as if he understood. She looked at him. His face was ashen and contorted with worry. Jill knew this was as hard on him as it was on her-more, since he had known Hutch so much longer than she had. They were best friends-partners-brothers in blue, closer than brothers. Sometimes she envied their relationship, envied the fact that Dave knew Hutch so much better than she did. From years of friendship, they had their own inside jokes, their own way of teasing each other, even their own language, it seemed, their own way of speaking without words. All of which she would never be a part, no matter how long she was with Hutch.

Soon the doctor came out and directed Jill down the hall to Hutch's room. Starsky started to follow her, but the doctor stopped him.

"No, Sargeant Starsky. Only one of you at a time."

"I'm sorry, Dave-" her voice was filled with regret. "Next time, huh?"

"Yeah. it's all right. You are his wife. You have priority over me." Jill moved down the hall and disappeared into Hutch's room, leaving Starsky staring longingly after her. A brief pang of jealousy stabbed at the dark haired detective. This was the first time Hutch had been seriously wounded since he had married Jill. Someone else had precedence over him in Hutch's life now. It could still be 'me and thee' on the job, but in his private life it was thee and Jill and me . It was going to take some getting used to. The partners had always been there for each other before. But Dave found he couldn't hold on to the resentment. He knew Jill well enough to know she would never lord this over him. She was too kind for that.

But Hutch couldn't die. Starsky could not even imagine life without his partner. His best friend. Even though they were as different as day and night, they were soulmates. They fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, worked together like a well oiled machine. He couldn't imagine working with another partner, even though he knew Dobey would assign one to him, if Hutch died. No! He had a partner: Hutch. Starsky scrubbed his face with his hand. Hutch could be dying and there was nothing he could do about it. There was only so much the body could take when it was assaulted by bullets. He had learned that the hard way himself four years ago when he almost died from three plugs in his own body. Dave dropped down into a chair and closed his eyes.

Jill moved over to the bed where Hutch lay, hooked up to machines, tubes going into different parts of his body, I-V's in his arm. His face was drained of all color and his beautiful icy blue eyes were closed. He was lying so still. His muscular frame shrank against the whiteness of the sheets, making him look like a small boy, despite the fact that he was over six feet tall.

"Ken, I'm here." she leaned over and smoothed his blond hair back, then kissed him on the forehead. "I love you, Ken Hutchinson." Jill choked on his name as her throat closed up with tears. He was so still: the only clue that he was still alive the beep of the heart monitor as it jumped with every beat of his heart. Jill laid her head down on the bandage on his shoulder and stayed there, murmuring her husband's name over and over.

A red headed nurse opened the door and said quietly, "I'm sorry. That's long enough."

But Jill didn't move. The nurse moved over to the bed and gently laid her hand on her arm. "Mrs. Hutchinson? I'm sorry, but you have to leave now. He needs his rest."

"No! I want to stay with him!" With an adrenaline surge, she pushed the nurse away. " Don't you understand? Hutch wants me to stay with him. He told me to stay." In her distraught mind, she was assigning to Hutch things he couldn't possibly have said.

"He's unconscious, Mrs. Hutchinson. He can't talk."

Jill blinked as if awakening from sleep, then when the nurse's words sank in, she sagged against her and started to cry. "I'll take you out to your friend."

The nurse steered Jill out and they returned to the waiting room. Dave took one look at Jill's tear-stained face and asked:

"What happened?" A coldness settled around his heart. Oh, God, had Hutch died? Was there not going to be a next time when he could see Hutch? No, this couldn't be happening.

"No, Sargeant Hutchinson is the same. Mrs. Hutchinson became upset when I asked her to leave. She said her husband had asked her to stay. When I told her he was still unconscious, she started crying. I thought you might be able to calm her down."

Dave's relief was palpable. He took Jill's arm and gathered her to him to tuck her red gold head under his chin. "It's okay, honey. It's okay." he continued to whisper reassurances to Jill. Finally he managed to get her calmed down enough to settle down in the chairs again. They sat in silence for the most part, but when they did speak, the conversation was sporadic and trivial, both of them trying to ignore the worry that was still present like an elephant in the room. The doctor's words, "He's not out of the woods yet" still echoed in Jill's mind. Captain Dobey sat with them for a while, then looked at his watch and stood up. He glanced over at Jill.

"Since it sounds like you'll be here a while, I'll run out to your place and get some things. I'll take Edith with me. She'll know what to pack."

"And there's a book I just started on my nightstand. And please feed Cleo and give her water. I didn't have time to do that this morning."

"What about you, Starsky? You need anything from home?"

"Just a change of clothes, I guess. I've already lost one shirt today." he looked down at the leather jacket covering his bare chest. "Maybe you'd better bring two."

"Right. I'll be back later this afternoon." Dobey pulled Starsky aside. "Starsky, take all of the time you need here. I'll take you off the roster."

"Thanks, Cap'n."

"And let me know if anything happens."

"I will." The two men clasped hands, then Dobey left., There were now new magazines for Jill to look at while Starsky just sat and stared into space. The doctor's words, 'He's not out of the woods yet' were not lost on him. While he was relieved Hutch had made it through the surgery, he was still weighed down with worry that Hutch still not make it. Starsky went over the scene in the Rogers' house in his mind again, trying to remember every detail for the report he knew he had to write. This wasn't fair. He would have gladly taken those bullets for Hutch. He was still young-he and Jill wanted to have kids. They should have that chance. Of course nothing about their jobs was fair. There was always some wacko out there with a gun or poison, bent on revenge against him or Hutch. Suddenly Dave felt very tired. Even though he had slept this morning, it really hadn't been very restful sleep. And after a late night last night, Hutch's early morning call had cut short his regular sleep. God, it seemed as if a lifetime had passed since that urgent call this morning. Had it really only been-he checked his watch-eight hours ago? Dave leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

Jill threw down the magazine she wasn't the least bit interested in and sighed. This interminable waiting was just as bad as the worrying. Well, at least she had seen Hutch, talked to him, told him she loved him. Even though he had been unconscious, somehow she knew he had heard her. No matter what happened now, she'd at least had the chance to do that. Jill glanced over at Dave and smiled when she saw he was sleeping again. Or was it just resting his eyes? She knew if the doctor came out with any news, he would be immediately alert. Her attention wandered to the TV set above the bank of chairs opposite her. After a while Jill's eyes became heavy, too, and she closed them. She fell into a restless sleep.

"Mrs. Hutchinson?" An urgent hand shook Jill's shoulder.

"Wha?" Jill opened her eyes and looked up into the face of same nurse that had been attending Hutch. "Hutch? What happened?"

"The doctor wanted me to tell you that they had to take Sargeant Hutchinson back into surgery. He started bleeding again."