CHAPTER 7

The next morning Rachel was fixing David's breakfast when Nicky came stumbling down the steps. Since there were no appointments or therapy sessions scheduled for the day, she was letting David sleep in. Ignoring his mother, Nicky grabbed a cup of coffee and stood at the counter to drink it obviously nursing a hangover.

"Big brother still in bed?" Nicky said finally breaking the uncomfortable silence in the kitchen.

"Yes, he's still sleeping so keep your voice down."

"Right. Can't disturb poor David, can we?" Nicky sneered as he slammed his cup down on the counter. "He'd have been better off dying instead of the shape he's in now."

"Nicolas!" Rachel snapped in an outraged voice at his poor choice of words. "I don't ever want to hear you talk about your brother like that again not as long as you expect to live under this roof!"

"Go ahead, Ma," Nicky snarled "Pick Davy over me just like you always have! He's always been your favorite." He stormed out of the room before a startled Rachel could reply.

"Oh, Nicky," she said under her breath as she finished fixing David's breakfast. "What am I going to do about you?" Nicky was rapidly pushing her into a position she didn't want to be in, forcing her to make a choice that no mother should ever have to make. She finally had the chance to make it up to David for sending him away to California when he was only thirteen, to be his mother again even if it was only for a little while, and Nicky wanted to spoil it by throwing a jealous tantrum.

Rachel took David's tray into the bedroom to find him already awake. He was still unsteady on his feet but he was showing some improvement. He had managed to leave the wheel chair behind and was learning how to get around the house with a walker. He still tired easily and needed to rest frequently throughout the day. The doctor had fitted his left arm with a brace to help stabilize it but the trembling in his hand was still noticeable especially when he was tired or stressed.

"Good morning, darling. Have you been awake long?" Rachel asked as she sat the tray down on the nightstand so she could set the bed table over his lap.

David shook his head without answering. His eyes were still heavy so Rachel knew that he hadn't been awake for long. She noticed that he had used the urinal which was sitting on the opposite nightstand. Rachel was pleased with the progress he had made in a relatively short period of time but David was still frustrated by his limitations. His earlier bouts of confusion had improved significantly but he still had mood swings and remained depressed most of the time.

"I made you pancakes with strawberries." Rachel told him brightly as she began to cut them up for him. The therapist had instructed her to encourage him to use his right hand more and to let him try to feed himself as much as possible even if he made a mess. Since his right hand was not his dominant hand, it was often a frustrating exercise for both of them.

"Don't want any." David mumbled with a stubborn tilt of his chin.

"Do you want me to fix you something else?" Rachel suggested.

"Not hungry."

"Are you not hungry or is your stomach upset?" Rachel asked. She was almost as good as Hutch was when it came to interrupting what her son was really saying without saying it.

"Feel sick." David admitted with a frustrated face.

"Okay…how about if you try drinking your milk? Maybe that will settle your stomach enough to try and eat something." The combination of medications that he still had to take each morning and evening often left him feeling nauseated and anything he ate would immediately make a repeat appearance. Rachel worried constantly about him losing anymore weight than he already had. He had always had a lean, muscular build and even a few pounds of weight loss made him look gaunt especially in his face. An almost thirty pound weight loss since the shooting had left him looking like a refugee from a concentration camp. Rachel had started sneaking extra calories into his food whenever she could by adding extra sugar, heavy cream, and rich gravies or sauces.

David obediently drank the milk that Rachel had added chocolate syrup and a scoop of ice cream to mixing it all together in the blender. When he finished he laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes for a few minutes as Rachel ran her fingers through his hair a gesture that had always soothed and comforted him ever since he was a little boy. It was a trick that Hutch had learned early in their relationship to use when he wanted Starsky to relax and go to sleep.

"Feel better now?" Rachel asked after he had rested for a few minutes. Starsky nodded his head without opening his eyes. "Want to try eating something for me?"

"Not right now. Maybe later." He whispered in a dejected voice.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? You don't have any appointments today so there's no reason to get up until you're ready to."

"Okay," David said drowsily as Rachel gathered up his uneaten breakfast and left the room. She had just put the dishes in the sink to wash them when Nicky stumbled down the steps and slammed out the front door without a word.

Rachel's brother, Elijah, stopped by around noon. He graciously accepted Rachel's invitation to join them for lunch. She had fixed a light brunch including a rich beef stew, biscuits, and a thick chocolate pudding served with whipped cream. David had only been up for a few minutes and still had a sleepy, rumpled look.

David glanced at his mother self consciously as she sat a bowl of stew in front of him. Smiling fondly, she patted his hand and said, "It's all right. If you can't do it, I'll help you." She knew that he was embarrassed about eating in front of his uncle.

She saw the flash of determination in David's eyes as he reached out and awkwardly took the spoon in his right hand. With deliberate care, he lifted the spoon to his mouth and took a bite. He flashed a pleased grin at his mother to celebrate his success. Rachel smiled back brightly. Every little achievement, no matter how small, helped to bolster David's battered confidence.

David managed to eat about half of his meal with just a few spills that Elijah and Rachel tactfully ignored. He bulked when Rachel grabbed a washcloth to wipe off his face and hands but, after a few minutes of rebelliousness, he finally submitted to her tender ministrations. After their meal, David went into the living room and settled on the couch, turning the radio to a station that he enjoyed listening to.

As she walked Elijah to the door, the older man looked at her solemnly and said in a loud whisper, "He is doing better, yes?"

"Yes, it's taking some time but he is getting better." Rachel reassured him. "The physical therapy is helping."

"Good. That one is not one to be tied down for long." Elijah said sagely. "He is like the wind in the trees…the birds in the sky." Touching a finger to the brim of his black hat, he smiled warmly at his sister as he let himself out the door.

Walking back into the living room, Rachel smiled fondly at the sight of her eldest son sitting with his eyes closed, bobbing his head, as he listened to the music coming from the radio. Moving to her son's side, she ruffled his thick curls earning herself a crooked smile for her effort. Seeing that smile on David's face again made it all worth it.

"Maybe Ken will call tonight." Rachel said

"Why can't he come see me?" David asked in a hurt voice that tore at Rachel's heart. "Is he mad at me?"

"Of course not." Rachel told him "He loves you. He's just busy right now. He's working so hard to get the man who tried to have you killed put away for good. I'm sure that he'll come for a visit just as soon as he can."

"I miss him."

"I know you do, baby." Rachel said giving him a comforting hug. David leaned into her embrace with a contented smile as he leaned his head against her breast. He hissed against the sudden flare of pain in his chest that caught him unaware. The pain was a constant that never seemed to ease up even with the medication he was on.

He closed his eyes to hold back the frustrated tears that threatened to spill over. Since the shooting it seemed as if his emotions threatened to overwhelm him without any warning swinging from fits of anger to tears all within minutes. The doctors kept reassuring him that he would get better in time but in his mind time was the enemy and things were happening too slow to suit him. Even though he loved his mother, California was home now and he missed it. But, most of all, he missed Hutch.