Disclaimer: As with all other chapters to this entry and all other stories by me I do not own anything to do with Starsky and Hutch. My imagination weaves the stories but I make no claim to any intellectual property involving their concept.

Thank you everyone for your kind and lovely reviews. I am so happy to write something that others find enjoyable...even if this one is a real tear -jerker. Don't blame me, its Hutch's fault, and err, Starsky is not blameless either even if he was unconscious at the time.

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Chapter Four

The darkness had lifted but I still felt its shroud wrapped around me.

It had been a comforting shroud but I could not remember why.

As the lightness came and my consciousness broke through completely, I remained very still as each of my senses returned. Instinctively I turned toward the wall seeking out more of the darkness.

Oblivion.

Denial.

I knew what the light meant. I knew what it brought.

The light brought awareness and pain. The knifing pain was reality and it ripped through me with a brutal ferocity. The light meant that I was not with Starsky and he was not with me.

Starsky had gone into the darkness and the darkness did not take me too. I was left here. Behind in the light.

The doctor who had been working on Starsky was standing beside me, looking over a chart. I watched him through half closed eyes. I moaned softly and tried to roll back into where I had come from. Back into nothingness. I needed to go back to that place. Where I could not know and I could not feel.

I simply lay and watched the serious faced, white coated man as he read and jotted notes. I did not move, I did not speak. We were in some sort of small room with a desk and I was lying on some sort of examination table. "They" must have brought me here when I fell down, when Starsky...

I was brought here away from my friend, when he...

I baulked at the word, would not let it to even form in my mind. I pushed hard against the word, the effort of keeping it at bay was huge for it was ruthless in its intent to force my mind its way. Face it head on.

I knew that I wanted to be with Starsky soon, to sit and hold him again before he would be taken away from me, but right now the pain of his loss effectively paralysed every fibre of me.

The doctor turned then, suddenly aware that I was awake. I could not meet his eyes. I felt him hesitate. He was going to address me.

"Don't speak to me. Don't you say it. Don't, Oh God, please do not say what you are going to say to me. Until you say the words it won't be true."

Those compassionate eyes were back in place and he paused to place his hand on my arm. I would have flinched if I had been capable of moving or reacting, but I was dead inside.

It was then that he gave me a very small smile. I looked down to where his hand rested on my arm. The symbolism of that touch evoked more pain in me.

He will never feel me touch him again and I will never feel his warm touch on me again.

I stared at the strange hand, the unfamiliar hand. I could not look up at him because then he would speak. Then he would tell me what could never be unsaid.

I am sorry but your partner is dead.

"Detective Hutchinson, your partner is alive"

My eyes instantly shot up to latch onto his face. Searching his face for something more tangible.

What? What? What was he telling me? Cruel dream. It was all a cruel dream.

I saw him die. I wanted to die with him, but I am still here. What are you saying to me?

"...I do not know how, I am damned if I can figure it...but then in this job I get to be surprised a lot by human spirit and strength. Now I do not want to give you false hope, as he remains very much in a critical state, but for the moment he has rallied and there are some signs of stabilisation."

This was real, and these words were real. The words he spoke, the beautiful, glorious words he spoke washed over my defeated body like a balm. For a moment I could only take them and hold them in my head, trying to make sense of them even while the joyous buoyancy of them filled me. These beautiful words jolted me - my own flatline was broken. I could start to feel my heart beating fiercely now – with hope and gratitude, not with fear and dread.

I could see that he was taking in my range of emotions. If I had been able to watch my own face I am sure that the relief that blossomed there must have been a dramatic contrast to the mask of dead grief that was falling away with his words.

"Bu...ttt I ….I...thought that …..the monitor...his heart would not respond?" I was pushing myself up now and struggling to gain my equilibrium.

"Yes I know. The situation had been grim, but on the last effort to resuscitate him, there was a response and he slipped back into sinus rhythm...his heart started to beat normally again."

He paused then and gave me a searching look as he helped me remain upright, my body threatening to tilt over again, my head swimming with so many emotions.

"I do not like to dwell on certain things Detective, ahh, Ken, for I am a scientific man foremost and I know that science prevails. But...your partner was really a very poor risk for resuscitation, there was little hope to bring him back. His final response and regaining of some strength, astounds me."

He paused as if deciding whether to say more.

"Ken, I do believe that your presence was the catalyst. Patients, even those very close to death can sense and respond to loved ones. Your friend pulled himself back, and I cannot deny that it may have something to do with you being in the room at that moment. He may well have felt or sensed you when you – ah – managed to touch him".

He rubbed his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "I am sure you know whether there is any truth in that or not. The two of you are obviously extremely close and this closeness is sometimes what makes the difference for a patient who is critically ill. Sergeant Starsky came back, I think because of you. Not terribly scientific I know". He smiled again. "But then there it is. The human spirit is a force that sometimes cannot be bested by science.''

There were many things I could have said to this man. I could have attempted to describe the bond that Starsky and I had always shared and the depth of our connection on so many levels. But he would never comprehend the extent of our relationship and there was little to be gained now in trying to rationalise what had transpired in that ICU room. Enough that he had given me the space and time to allow me to touch Starsk that one last time – to make that vital contact that I had not been able to make earlier. Not until Starsky had reached out to me as only he could.

I was eternally grateful and indebted to this man for his expertise and determination in keeping my partner's life at the forefront of his efforts, but right now I pushed most of that aside.

All I wanted was not to be found in this room.

"Doctor – Starsky and I...we have always been together and in the past being together has helped us to get strong. Thank you for allowing me to...to...be with him. I don't know...I...I am sorry...please...but can I just go to him now. I need to go to him." These last words came out in a desperate strangled plea.

I was standing and testing my legs. I did not want to end up back on a trolley horizontal again when Starsky was waiting.

Alive. Waiting for me.

A warm smile again from this surprisingly insightful man. While I had been drowning in grief he had been working me out, or rather working Starsky and I out. He could try forever and never get it. Only we understood what were together and what we could never be apart.

But this man, this doctor surprised me. Even jaded as I was with society, sometimes life could still surprise me. To think that he could have done all of that while working on Starsky's life. I felt a warmth for him even though my mind was elsewhere.

"I thought as much. It won't be a problem. I knew that you would want to be with him" He motioned to me and we began to walk toward the door together.

"You must remember Ken, your partner is still not out of the woods and the next hours and days will be critical. There are still so many things that can go wrong, so many medical and surgical complications that can test us and the degree of damage his body has undergone. But..."

He stopped for a second when he saw that I was not going to be contained here. He saw that I was not open for objectivity, or rationale argument. My partner was alive for Christ Sake!

Starsky is alive. Please just let me have that for now. It is enough. Enough for now. Don't take it away from me or try to minimise my joy. Let me just have this for now.

"…...there is more hope than we have had so far and he is looking stronger than he has since the surgery. We can only continue to hope."

Hope. Hope that I did not have and had given up. I had given up on my friend. Given up on us.

He led me into the room and stopped at the entrance. I believe he sensed my renewed fear at the sight of the room and spoke now in a firm voice. "Stay as long as you like. I will clear it with the nursing staff so that you don't get you muscled out of here after fifteen minutes. Go on, be with your friend, I am sure he has been expecting you." With that he turned and left me. I am sure that he knew that this was an intensely personal time for me.

Anxiety again bubbled up as I scanned the room. Deja vu pervaded me as I walked through the doorway and everything felt dream like. What if this was all a terrible nightmare? What if the bed bed was empty, the monitor black, Starsky taken away.

Starsky dead.

But he was there in the narrow white bed and he was alive. I felt him there before I saw him. I felt his breath in my ear.

My eyes found him and rested on his face and I walked quickly now to his side. No hesitation now, my hands out in front of me seeking his face, touching his hair, caressing his cheek. There was so much medical paraphernalia in him and on him and he was heavily wrapped in dressings and tape. Eager hands urgently sought any pieces of bared skin to touch and gently press. Confirming for myself that his skin was warmer than it had been when I last touched him.

I sank into the chair that had been placed by his bed. I gently lifted his hand into mine and then covered it with my other as best I could with the cannula in place. My eyes locked onto his pale face and focused on each well known feature at a time.

His dark lashed eyes closed against his cheeks. Those dark blue eyes were like morse code to me. He could speak to me with them and I to him with mine. We drew strength from each other by using our eyes and ensured that our communications were not conveyed to anyone else but each other. Our eyes were our own private channel. His eyes were closed to me now and I was denied their deep blue depths, but still I was beyond happy to be able to watch them closed and flickering behind his lids.

I gently traced my fingers over his lips. Such a strong and often obstinate mouth that could so easily slide into a devilishly smile, a never ending chuckle, a grim faced threat, and a soft concerned pout.

His nose that I cannot believe had retained its shape despite the number of times I know it had been busted, likewise his planed cheeks that had caught too many blows to count.

I looked down at our joined hands and thumbed the back of his hand. My thumb ran over the roughened scarred knuckles where small white lines and ridges were the badges for the numerous times he had used his fists to fight our way out of trouble or danger. After our eyes our hands were the other way we talked together. A touch, a tap, a squeeze, a caress...our hands often sought to comfort, encourage or protect each other. My light golden skinned hand with its long tapering fingers fitted like a glove into his capable olive skinned one. I rubbed my finger over his small finger where his rings had been taped over for the surgery, making a mental note that should they be removed I would ask to have them with me. Already in my pocket I was aware of the light weight of his chinese coin necklace and I would be sure to put it around my neck and wear it close to me until I could give it back to him.

Finally my eyes came to rest on his chest. This was the hardest part for me to look at. I still felt my stomach clench and my breath hitch when I saw what had been done to him by the bullets and the surgery. His chest was bound and bandaged again, but the memory of him on the bed, wet with the gel for the defibrillator pads, his fresh raw wounds stark against his denuded chest had me closing my eyes again now. This chest and back area bore the brunt of his assault. The centre of his body, the centre of his being. It was hard, but I brought my hand up from the side of his body to gingerly touch the stricken centre of him. I lay it gently, gently, no more than a breath on to where I had seen the sutures. I was terrified of hurting him even though I knew that was illogical. This was by far the most traumatic moment of me dealing with the reality of what had happened to my friend so far. I knew that under the bandages there would be even more marks now. The faint pink burn marks from the defibrillator paddles.

I risked a study of the monitor and I breathed a sigh of relief. The green line was forming a steady, regular run of troughs and peaks. Then I remembered the flash of the peak before I passed out.

Not an illusion after all.

The image of his convulsing body swam in front of my eyes and I had to concentrate hard for a moment to push the fear away again. To think that Starsky's heart had stopped, had failed, that he had died...without me ever having touched his tortured body one last time.

I did not want to cry anymore. Choking, racking sobs had exhausted me and I did not want to be any more depleted than I felt. I wanted to stay strong now for Starsky. To be here for him whenever he was able to come back to me. I didn't care how long it took, just as long as he was able to return to me. I touched his face again and marvelled at what had transpired.

So close, so close to losing him...and then I felt it welling again. The uncontainable emotion, the tears. But this time I knew that the tears were healing tears...the tears of joy and gratitude.

Starsky hadn't died after all. I believed that he had felt me, had felt my touch. Knowing I was there for him, he had pulled himself away from the line between life and death. It hadn't been too late after all.

I hadn't been too late.

I found the strength now to say it. Starsky would listen and he would understand. He had one flaw, a weakness really. It was me. He believed in me implicitly and was forever loyal. In his eyes I could do no wrong and when it involved me he was always so ready to forgive and forget. I knew there were too many times where I had wronged him and hurt him – intolerably – never knowing why I even did it. I hated myself for those few times when I had hurt him. Stupid, self centred acts that had threatened the integrity of our relationship. If I could take them back, take back my betrayal of his trust, I would. But we had healed. We came back as one. Starsky's generous and loving nature would never allow me to stay outside of our bond for too long.

This time the hurt I had inflicted was passive. I had withheld myself from him. I had not been there for him when he needed me more than he ever had. When I got, if I got, to the other side of all of this, with Starsky still with me, I would need to do some hard self examination.

So frightened of losing him that my fear had nearly cost me the chance of keeping him.

"I am so sorry Starsk. I am so very sorry. I am not as brave or as strong as you. I was so scared of losing you that I could not watch it happen. I was so fucking terrified of you leaving me. You know that I can't go on in life without you buddy. My life would be …..."

I put my head down on the side of the bed, my head and hair brushing against his arm and lay my arms as gently as I could manage to do so over his body. I so much wanted to feel his hand reach up and touch the back of my head, I so much wanted to feel his touch on me. I needed him to absolve me of what was overtaking me now but of course he couldn't. A deep shuddering breath and I let it all wash over me, into me.

The self remorse, the guilt and ….almost...self hate.

"I was walking away Starsk. I was leaving you. Sure I was going to find out who did this to you and kill them...that's what I wanted to do. But I should never have left you alone. I should never have given up hope."

But I knew that Starsk would not want me to have any of that. Both of us were intolerant of guilt or self blame in each other. I could hear his voice, firm and strong and yet gentle and understanding at the same time.

Don't do this Hutch...just shut up already will ya? Enough of the guilt, ya big blond lug. So you didn't get around to putting your big hand on mine for a while. So what? Ya here now aren't ya? Don't matter coz you know I still would have said "what took you so long"? anyway...

He would have said this with that lop-sided smile and with his head tipped slightly to the side, his eyes telling me that it was all ok... we were ok.

His voice was so real and presence so strong that it undid me completely. God help me I was missing him so much already. How would I ever cope if he...

I was losing the battle with the tears again.

"Christ! Starsk! There will be nothing left of me soon if I keep this up!" I sniffed and choked and then gave a watery smile when I thought of how Starsky might respond to that one if he could. "Probably thinking of some smart-assed comeback right now aren't you Gordo?"

Something moved, settled, relaxed in me and I felt a little lighter in myself.

"See buddy even unconscious you know just what to say to me to make me feel better."

I couldn't resist...I picked up a curl of his dark hair and fingered it as I smiled fondly down at him.

"Well buddy. The doctor says its going to be a while before you wake up so you had better get used to this blubbering act of mine".

There were things that I had to do and I was no less intent on finding who had done this to Starsky, to the two of us...but for the moment all I wanted to do was sit here.

Be with him. Be here for him. Be at one with him.

I had thought that this time was different. That this time I did not have him.

But I was wrong and Starsky knew it. He knew that I had him deep inside me and I was deep inside him.

We would always have each other.

The darkness was gone and we were still together.

Together... in the light.

The End