Starsky made slow but steady progress after that first day out of bed. He struggling through hours of painful physiotherapy until he was at a point where the doctors said he could do as much at home as they could do for him in the hospital. Having satisfied themselves that either Hutch or Laurel or both would be there for the curly haired cop, they had set a release date, cautioning their "miracle patient" against doing too much too fast and to avoid infections.
Starsky was standing at the end of the corridor at that moment, waiting for Hutch to come back from his apartment with his street clothes so that finally he could break out of what he felt had become a prison. He had prowled the small room and corridor all morning, cursing at the delay, looking out of the window at the sunny parking lot and watching for Hutch's car to appear.
It had been four months since the brunette had last tasted freedom. In his rehabilitation, he and either Laurel or Hutch had taken walks outside in the hospital's garden and they'd watched the kids playing in the school grounds across the way, but that was as far as his view of the 'real world' had taken him.
He'd been pale and wasted when he'd started going outside for short periods, but as his stamina increased, he found it relaxed him to be out in the fresh air. It gave him some small comfort to feel that he was away from the clutches of the doctors, nurses, physios and interminable tests.
Now, his once pale skin was sporting his more usual healthy tan, although he was still pitifully thin, his face still gaunt with a haunted look. Only his eyes, which had been dulled by pain for so long had taken on their accustomed twinkle, showing something of the old Starsky spirit. He had found a quiet corner of the garden he claimed as his own, away from the main thoroughfares and when he was certain no-one was around, he would take off his pyjama shirt and sit letting the sun's rays pound against the healing scars on his chest and back. He was very self-conscious of his scars. He felt as if they somehow marked him as an invalid, and that was a label he riled against day after day.
He drove himself on through the hours of exercises until the physios had to force him to stop. They didn't want him to damage his still healing body, but the hard work was paying off. Now, he could walk all the way down to the garden on his own, although he often had to wipe the sweat from his eyes when he eventually sat down it hurt so much. Not that he would ever let that fact be known to anyone…even to his closest friends.
He'd been the guest of honour at a party the night before in his little room. Dobey, Huggy and Hutch had at various times during the evening smuggled food and drink into Starsky's room as he lay in bed. He was feeling mellow and happy 'Hey, four pain killers, feel no pain' he'd tittered as Hutch asked how he was. That night would be one he would remember till his dying day. It summed up the friendship he had with these men…the journey they had all taken together since the shooting. In a moment of uncharacteristic emotion Starsky had proposed a toast 'To four very heavy dudes'.
Of course, the emotional moment was interrupted by gales of laughter from the four men as the sprinkler in the room erupted, flooding them and the room with water. Yes, that would be a night that they all would remember always.
And of course, that moment of euphoria last night had evaporated with the morning. David Starsky could be a very patient person when he wanted to be, but as of this moment, he could truthfully say that he thought he had been patient enough for too long!
"Come on, Buddy! Where are you…"
Starsky walked dejectedly back to his room and stared once more at the clock on his wall. That clock had been his constant companion for the months of his incarceration as he called it.
It had counted down the seconds to the next dose of morphine, when the pain had been so bad he'd cried out and held onto Hutch's hand until he drew blood from the nail marks he made. He'd watched its hands turn oh so slowly around the dial on the nights when he couldn't sleep, and it counted down the minutes until either Hutch, or his beautiful Laurel would come back into his room and brighten his day. Now, the hands were doing their crawling trick again as he waited for his ticket out of Memorial.
He returned yet again to stare out of the window again and he saw what he had so longed to see all morning! Besides Laurel, Hutch's mud coloured LTD and his partner pulling into the parking lot had to be the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his whole life.
Hutch took a small bag from the trunk, and looked up to the window, knowing his curly haired partner would be watching. He waved and smiled broadly. Hutch too had waited for this day with longing. It had taken a lot out of the big blond. At first Dobey had given him compassionate leave to be with his partner during those early dark days of his recovery, but he knew that his captain could not allow him to spend as much time as he wanted with his partner forever. He'd been happy when Laurel had arrived and that they could share in taking care of this man that they both loved. They could support each other through Starsky's highs and especially the lows in his roller coaster recovery too. He'd managed to visit Starsky every day while still doing a full day's work at Metro, but it had drained him to work eight hours, then sit with his partner during often desperate times. Not that he'd been out on the streets with anyone. He and Dobey had talked about what he could do, and Dobey had asked if he wanted time off, but Hutch knew he wanted to save that for when it would be needed - when the brunette was home and needed care. So the two had worked out that Hutch could complete a lot of the paper work on cases that were nearing conclusion. He could brief other members of the team about the jobs he and Starsky had been working on before the attack and then generally help out with interrogations, paperwork and the odd small 'one man' jobs which came up.
Starsky made his way back to the head of the stairs, waiting for the first sight of Hutch's flaxen head coming to break him out, as if seeing him would make it happen faster. He felt excited, but there was another feeling churning in his gut too. One he couldn't rationalise and one he decided to ignore for the moment. In this moment, he just wanted to savour better feelings.
'Hey buddy' Hutch said as he bounded up the final flight of stairs and saw his dark haired partner at the top.
'Hey yourself' Starsky replied, looking expectantly at the gym bag. 'Ya got everything I asked ya to get?'
'Yup, even down to the exact pair of crummy blue jeans you asked me to find'.
Both men made their way back to Starsky's room. Hutch couldn't hide his amusement as he watched his best friend eagerly dive into the bag Hutch placed on the bed. Starsky pulled out a pair of almost white jeans, washed so many times the colour had all but faded away, their material butter soft and velvety and his favourite red tee shirt with the small white square on the front. He added a pair of sports socks and his tennis shoes and disappeared into the bathroom.
Hutch looked around the room at the by now familiar walls and curtains. How many times had he stared at them over the months? He felt he knew every tile on the floor and every crack in the ceiling personally and his heart beat a little quicker as he allowed himself to feel excited for the first time about his friend's discharge from the hospital.
Starsky seemed to be taking a long time getting dressed so Hutch started to pace the floor around the bed, then finally he knocked tentatively at the bathroom door.
'Hey, you OK Gordo?' he asked through the closed door.
There was a muffled noise then the door opened and a sweating Starsky stood in the doorway, holding onto his jeans with one hand.
'I got 'em on Ok' he panted, 'but look!' Starsky pulled at the handful of waistband, the usually snug fitting material bagging around his hips.
'Ya got a problem there buddy!' Hutch smiled and took the belt from around his own waist, handing it to his partner. Starsky took it with a lopsided grin and tried to thread it through the loops of his jeans. He managed the first one, but the next involved turning slightly, and as he tried the manoeuvre he let out an involuntary yelp, his body unaccustomed to that particular movement.
Swiftly, Hutch took the belt and threaded it through the rest of the loops, allowing Starsky to buckle it tightly, a lot of the belt leather hanging uselessly down as he utilised the last hole on the belt. The usually tight fitting jeans hung from his hips and the tee shirt he wore, which usually hugged his muscled torso, was slack too.
The appearance didn't escape either man and for a moment. Starsky felt uneasy. Hutch caught the look.
'It'll all come back pal," Hutch said gently as he placed his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "This is just the first step. How's it feel?'
Starsky looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 'They fit where they touch, as Ma would say. I haven't been this thin since Traff found me in that camp in Vietnam'. He lifted his shirt up. 'Ya can play a tune on my ribs, they're like a xylophone!' He said, his voice small suddenly. Then he shook himself. 'Hey, nothing a few burritos won't cure, right?'.
"Right," Hutch chuckled. 'Ya gonna put your socks 'n' shoes on then?'
A cloud fell over the brunette's face again. 'Ah… would, but I can't bend down that far yet. Sorry to ask but….'
'No problem, sit down and I'll do the honours." Hutch finished dressing his partner and they exited the room without a backward glance.
Starsky waited impatiently at the nurse's station for his discharge papers. All the nurses had fallen in love with the curly headed man. His courage and his miraculous recovery had made him something of a hero and his rugged good looks also added to his charisma. For the nurses, it made a fascinating and diverting change to nurse a young and handsome man rather than the usual middle aged or elderly sorts they dealt with. Starsky waited for the wheelchair. He hated the contraption but knew it was the only way the hospital would allow him off the premises, so he swallowed his pride and took the ride down to the exit.
As he got to the door, he rose stiffly from the wheelchair and took the pretty nurse in his arms giving her a kiss before saying goodbye. She had a tear in her eye as she left the two men and quickly went back to her work, glad he was well enough to go home, but sure they would all miss him terribly.
Starsky stood at the door and took a deep breath. His heart was doing a little jig in his chest and he felt dizzy and weak. He leaned against the side of the door a moment trying to get his emotions under control. After fantasising about going home for so many weeks, now the time had come to take that final step back into the world of the fit and active, and he found he was anxious and, dare he admit it, frightened.
While in the hospital, and especially toward the end of his stay he had been the most fit patient among the ones on his ward. Most of the other patients had a lot of healing still to do, and Starsky had felt almost normal in comparison to them. Now though, standing on the threshold with his vital blond partner, he was once again very much aware that he was very much the invalid still. The hospital had cocooned him. If he needed anything there was a host of people there to answer his calls, and that was suddenly a very precious commodity that he didn't want to give up. He couldn't believe himself. David Starsky was actually scared to go home.
Hutch watched his partner pause at the entrance, wondering what was going on inside that curly head of his partner. He knew from his extended stay in hospital the previous year that going home was a bitter sweet event and he suddenly had an idea what Starsky's trouble was.
He took his partner's arm and whispered in his ear conspiratorially 'C'mon Starsk. Like always pal. Its Me and Thee against the world'.
Starsky clutched at Hutch's arm for a moment, taking a deep steadying breath and together they took that massive step back out into reality once more.
