Chapter 7

Starsky levered himself to his feet and followed the gurney as Epstein and a nurse wheeled that and the precious cargo of his partner's body out of the OR and back along the winding corridors to his room. Once there, the brunet helped to move his buddy back onto his bed and cover him with a sheet. This time there was no need for the medical restraints still attached to the bedframe. This time, Hutch was dead to the world, limp and lifeless and terribly pale. Starsky rested a hand on a body covered only by a pair of white scrubs and a single white sheet and sighed.

Epstein checked Hutch's pulse, temperature, respirations and blood pressure and recorded his findings on his chart. He turned to the brunet with a smile.

'He'll sleep for a while now. You should get some rest. He'll be tired when he comes round'.

Starsky snorted softly. 'Tired? You electrocuted him, course he's gonna be tired!' he backed down a little, easing the tension from his shoulders and back. 'How's he doin'?'

Epstein nodded for the curly haired cop to sit down and Starsky pulled up a chair until he was sitting down by the side of Hutch's bed. With one hand resting on his buddy's arm and the other wrapped protectively round his middle where his bullet wound was aching unmercifully he glared angrily at the medic.

'There's some things you should know about the treatment David. When he comes round, there are some side effects you should watch out for. The first is that he's likely to have a headache – a bad one. It's usual and nothing to worry about'.

'Headache huh? Wonder why that is….. Could it be coz ya just wired him up to the national grid?' Starsky ground his teeth together fighting for composure. He knew the facility was doing what they considered right to help his buddy, but it was still tough to deal with. 'M'sorry. I'm wired Doc. It aint every day ya get to witness your closest friend bein' zapped'.

'I know, it's tough. But rest assured he won't have known anything about it. He won't have felt any pain'.

'You know that for sure? It looked…. barbaric. Aint no way I'll sign a consent for that again Doc. If this don't work you're gonna have to find some other way. Or I'll take him home an' do this myself if I have to, but you're not takin' him through that again'.

Epstein smiled at the sable haired man's determination. 'We can see if this works first. I was telling you about the side effects. Headache is one, and we've already given him some pain meds through his drip to ease that. He may get a slight fever too and we can handle that if it happens also. But the one side effect you might find the most disconcerting is that his memory may have been affected'.

'Memory? Whoa. This treatment was supposed to help his memory, not make it worse!' Starsky's voice rose angrily

Epstein put up his hand in a conciliatory gesture. 'And it should. But in the short term, patients can experience problems with their short term memories or in some cases .…. in some cases they can lose certain portions of their memory completely' he finished in a rush.

'You're tellin' me this now? Jeez Doc! How much memory? How long would that last?'

Epstein swallowed. 'Sometimes the loss is permanent' he said softly, waiting for the bomb to explode in the small room.

The brunet ran his hands through his thatch of curls and squeezed his eyes shut. What had he signed Hutch up to? What had he condemned his partner to? Shit, why hadn't Epstein told him all this before? He looked up angrily and rose as though pulled up from the ceiling by strings. He crossed the room in one limping stride and grabbed the small doctor by the lapels of his white coat, glaring at him from no more than 4 inches away.

'You better hope he don't lose his memory Doc. Coz if that happens I'm gonna hound ya from now to kingdom come, ya hear me? There ain't gonna be a breath ya can take or a step ya can make where I'm not gonna be watchin' ya. I'm a cop. I can make your life a complete misery an' it'd still be legal'.

Epstein refused to back down. He knew how close these two men were and how much it had hurt the brunet to witness Hutch's treatment, but he also knew he needed to be truthful with the man. 'David, I know you're upset. Believe me I would be too. But this is a tried and trusted method and I'm sure we'll get some results from this treatment. Now you're welcome to stay with him. He'll be confused when he wakes up and a familiar face will make it easier for him. I'll have them bring a camp bed in here for you. But you need to rest too. I know you're still healing and I don't want two patients on my hands'.

Starsky let go of the man and turned away, his shoulders slumped in defeat and his weariness catching up with him. As Epstein walked out of the room, he crossed back to the bed and leaned heavily against it. He reached up and gently moved a bang of dark golden hair from his partner's forehead and winced at the dark burn on Hutch's temple. He swore quietly under his breath, looking up sharply as a guy brought a fold away bed into the room.

'Where'd'ya want this?' he asked gruffly.

'Right over here' Starsky replied and pointed to the side of the bed.

'Right next to the crazy? the janitor asked.

The brunet fought the urge to grab the man and punch him into the middle of next week. 'Yeah. Just leave it huh? I'll deal with it' he took the bed from the guy who studied him for a moment.

'Hey, aren't you that guy? The cop who was here under cover a while back?' he asked

'Yeah' Starsky replied, not really wanting a trip down memory lane.

The janitor looked at the bed and snickered. 'I remember now. He was posin' as a nurse wasn't he?' Wow, didn't do him much good. What sent him psycho?'

'He aint psycho an' I don't wanna talk about it' the brunet snarled as the man backed away.

'Oookay. Just askin' Bro. No harm meant. Gimme a shout if he turns nasty an' I'll come an' help' he said, backing out of the room.

'Just get out huh?' the cop hissed savagely and turned his back as he started to get the bed unfolded and made with the pillows and sheets provided. As the lights went out on the corridor at 11:00 pm, he sighed, taking his shoes and socks off and unbuckling his belt. He laid the items on a chair by the other side of the bed and after checking on Hutch once more, he lay down and rested his head back on the pillow.

As he waited in the darkness the janitor's words rang in his head and his memory took him unwillingly back to that weekend he'd spent as Rudi Skyler.

His first introduction to Cabrillo had been of him running down the corridor, hands manacled to the front of the restraining belt round his waist until he cannoned into his partner, "Nurse Hansen". He'd bowled Hutch over and muttered that he hadn't had this much fun since little league, but the fun was short lived as a needle was rammed unceremoniously into his butt and he was pushed back into a wheelchair.

From then on, things went steadily downhill. Then, like now it appeared, Cabrillo's method of dealing with anything that looked like free thought was to use drugs and sedation to quell unruly behaviour. By the end of the weekend, Starsky's butt had been the colour of a ripe blueberry and he'd had trouble sitting without the aid of a cushion. At least they'd targeted Hutch's arm with their Thorazine, although the bruising against the golden skin was still extensive.

Starsky smiled into the darkness as he remembered waking up that first morning to see Hutch's face looking slightly unfamiliar behind the dorky glasses looking down on him. He'd had a restless night despite the sedation and had jumped at each unfamiliar noise or each time the orderly came in to check on him, shining their torch into his eyes. He hated the lack of privacy – the fact that he'd been made to shower while a nurse watched, just in case he strangled himself with a towel or frothed himself to death on the tiny bar of soap they'd given him.

He smiled again at the choice of books Hutch had brought for him "The Long Goodbye". It was a joke, he knew, but it left him with a sour taste. He had never felt so alone as when he'd been in that room late at night and he'd only been faking being crazy. He had no idea how Hutch could have endured his incarceration while his mental health was in question. And yet…. No, Hutch wasn't crazy. He'd been through a trauma no-one should ever have to go through, but he wasn't crazy!

And then there had been that awful moment when Matwick had found him in his office. He tried hard to keep his "crazy front" going, but by then the doctor know who he was. He remembered distinctly getting down off the filing cabinet and walking slowly into the treatment room. the muzzle of Matwick's gun had been cold on his bare back, where the tear in his shirt left him uncovered. And then the interminable wait for the mad medic's new wonder drug as he lay helpless and bound on the operating table. He could identify so much with Hutch as the blond lay bound to the gurney waiting for the ECT. But this time there was no gun toting partner to stop the fun. No knight in shining armour coming rushing down the corridor to save the day. This time there was just a useless brunet staring in through a plate glass window as Hutch's eyes locked on to his and he was left alone to deal with the terrifying ordeal.

Starsky berated himself for letting them do that to his partner. He just hoped that some good would come out of it, and maybe Hutch would indeed benefit from the barbaric treatment.

His eyes closed and he was just nodding off into a troubled sleep when he heard a muffled noise from the bed by the side of him. Wearily, and groaning softly as he forced his own injured body to cooperate, he swung his legs over the bed and got to his feet.

Hutch's head was tossing on the pillow, the open burns on his temple leaving dark smears on the white pillow case. Starsky shushed the blond man, cupping the golden cheek in his hand and rubbing the pale skin with his thumb.

'Ssh, s'ok Hutch. Relax partner. It's all over with now' he crooned softly. The head on the pillow stopped and it was evident that Hutch was listening to his words. He kept up the soft convesation as he saw life flow back into his friends face. Hutch wedged his eyes open and licked his dry lips, his mouth trying to form words and a shiver ran though the limp frame. Starsky leaned in.

'Hey buddy. How're ya doin' huh?' he asked

Slowly the crystal blue eyes closed and then opened, closed then opened again and struggled to focus on the man above him.

'Hey, there you are' Starsky smiled warmly. He reached for the glass of water by the bedside and held it to the bond's lips as Hutch struggled to coordinate himself enough to take a sip. He rested back on the pillow and cleared his throat.

'What happened?' he rasped. His jaw ached fiercely and his head felt as though it would explode if he moved it too quickly. He tried to focus on the man in front of him. Why was he led in a bed? Where was he? What had happened? His head was in a whirl and he tried to get his thoughts into some sort of order just as the panic hit. He stiffened in the bed and tried to grab for Starsky's hand. He caught it and held on tightly as he looked up imploringly, pain and fear mirrored in the crystal depths of his eyes.

'Who….. who are you?…… and who am I?' he asked in a frightened , shaking and weak voice.