TORTURED MIND
CHAPTER NINE
Hutch was exhausted but he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He was too worried about keeping Starsky safe. So he sat there in the darkness, keeping watch much the same way he done after Starsky had almost died over two years ago. Now, as then, just watching the gentle rise and fall of the brunet's chest as he breathed was enough to calm the big blond and reassure him that his partner was still alive. When Starsky began mumbling in his sleep again and looked like he was becoming agitated, Hutch quickly reached out to rub the palm of his hand up and down the brunet's arm. "Shhhh…it's okay, Starsk. I'm here. Hutch is here." In his sleep, Starsky's brows drew together in a frown, his head turning towards the sound of Hutch's voice. He exhaled noisily and then slipped back into a deep slumber.
"I know you can hear me, Starsk." Hutch said quietly, leaning down so that he was speaking directly in Starsky's ear. "And sooner or later, you're gonna get tired of hearing me do all the talking and wake up. And I'll be right here waiting for you when you do." Hutch settled back on his cot and closed his eyes, determined to get some sleep of his own.
The aide bringing their breakfast trays awakened him the next morning. Prying open his heavy lids, Hutch shoved himself to the edge of the cot and stood up. "Thank you." He said to the aide in a tone of dismissal as he uncovered the lids on Starsky's breakfast tray while ignoring his own until after his partner was fed. When he held out the spoon for Starsky to feed himself, just like he had done for the past three days, he was surprised when Starsky actually took it and tentatively reached out towards his plate. With baited breath, Hutch watched as Starsky awkwardly spooned up some scrambled eggs and slowly guided the spoon towards his mouth. Some of the eggs spilled on the sheets but most of the food made it into Starsky's mouth.
"Hey, it's about time you stopped being so lazy." Hutch teased him, surprised at the joy he felt at watching Starsky accomplish such a simple task. He had felt the same way during Starsky's long recovery from his shooting whenever the brunet reached another milestone in his struggle to regain his health. Starsky ignored the big blond and continued eating, cleaning his entire tray. He was slow and clumsy but he was feeding himself. Hutch was so absorbed in watching Starsky eat, that his own food was cold by the time he started eating.
After the trays had been taken away, Hutch got a basin of water from the adjoining bathroom, along with a towel and washcloth, intending to help Starsky wash. Starsky let Hutch wash his hands but when the blond tried to wash his face, Starsky jerked away, his eyes wide with fear and his breathing escalating. His hands closed into fists, clutching the sheets almost frantically as he tried to move away from Hutch.
"Hey, hey…" Hutch said soothingly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as he tossed the washcloth onto the bedside table. "If you don't want your face washed, I won't wash your face." Hutch watched as Starsky slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out and the fear draining from his face. Remembering what Stephanie had said about the possibility that someone had forced Starsky to take the pills that had nearly killed him, Hutch wondered if that explained his extreme reaction when Hutch got too close to his face. He quickly abandoned the idea of trying to get Starsky to let him help him to wash up. One step at a time. Hutch reminded himself somberly One step at a time. Although Starsky was starting to show some positive signs of responding to Hutch, he knew that it wouldn't take much to send him tumbling over the edge into the black abyss that was waiting to claim his soul.
When Starsky began squirming around uncomfortably, Hutch lowered the bedrail and arched his brow at Starsky questioningly as he held out a steadying hand to help the brunet to his feet. After a few minutes hesitation, Starsky grabbed Hutch's hand securely and allowed him to help him out of bed. Another step in the right direction, Hutch thought to himself as he helped Starsky into the bathroom to relive himself. When he was finished taking care of business, Starsky paused, a puzzled expression on his face. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing his palm against his smooth, cleanly shaven cheek.
"What's wrong, pal? Did you forget your razor?" Hutch asked in a lightly teasing tone. Stephanie had told Hutch how poor Starsky's personal hygiene had been when he was brought into the emergency room, his face covered with a heavy growth of beard and his dark curls tangled and dirty. That alone told Hutch just how far Starsky's mental state had deteriorated. He had always been almost fastidious about his personal appearance.
He had hated it when Hutch had grown a mustache and let his hair get too long and had nagged him constantly until Hutch finally shaved it off and got a haircut. Starsky's glaze clouded over, slipping back into the same blank stare that Hutch was becoming accustomed to seeing on that rugged face.
Hutch sighed softly, trying not to feel too disappointed, as he helped Starsky over to the chair by the window where the brunet liked to sit during the day. The morning passed quietly with Starsky staring outside while Hutch sat in another chair nearby, quietly reading a book he had bought in the hospital gift shop. After lunch, Starsky seemed restless; his eyes darted nervously around the room, finally settling on Hutch's face. For a brief moment, Hutch was positive he saw a glint of recognition in those remarkable eyes but then it was gone again.
Starsky seemed to get more agitated as the afternoon passed. Finally, he shoved himself out of his chair and began pacing the confines of the small room like a caged animal. Hutch sat back and watched him, not interfering. He'd seen Starsky like this before and knew that his pacing was Starsky's way of working off his nervous energy. Ever since Hutch had known him, Starsky had been hyperactive, so full of energy that it was hard for him to stay still for long. Days of forced confinement tended to aggravate his highly excitable partner no end. Starsky's actions were further proof to Hutch that the old Starsky was locked away somewhere inside this stranger that was currently inhabiting his best friend's body. Finally, Starsky seemed to wear himself out. He lay down on the bed, curling up on his side and closed his eyes. Hutch smiled, thinking how much Starsky reminded him of a mischievous little boy worn out from a hard day of playing when he slept.
When Hutch stood up, stretching to work the kinks out of his shoulders and back, he was positive that he saw Starsky's eyes open just a slit, watching him cautiously as Hutch moved around the room to loosen up his stiff muscles. If he was feigning sleep, Hutch didn't want to let on that he knew Starsky was faking it. He knew that Starsky was starting to trust him and Hutch didn't want to threaten the fragile bond that was beginning to emerge between them again. His hands ached to touch Starsky, to hold him and soothe away his pain and fear. But Starsky still barely tolerated his touch. Too many times, Hutch still felt the barely noticeable trembling when he touched him and knew that it was taking all of the self control that Starsky still possessed to keep from pulling away.
With a grin, Hutch suddenly had an idea. He glanced back at the bed to make sure Starsky was still feigning sleep and left the room. Hurrying down to the cafeteria, he made his purchase and returned to the room. With a flourish, he sat the treat down on the bedside table and waited for Starsky to open his eyes. "Hey, Starsk…" he said quietly "Open your eyes and look what I brought you."
The sapphire eyes flashed open, his lips curving into a genuine grin of pleasure when he saw the ice cream sundae covered with cherries, nuts, and a mixture of chocolate and caramel sauce, topped off with a generous helping of whipped cream. The brunet immediately sat up in bed and reached for his sweet treat. Hutch grinned happily as he sat down in his chair and watched his friend eagerly devouring the sweet confection. Food had always been one of Starsky's passions and Hutch wasn't above using a little old fashioned bribery to draw Starsky out of his shell. After finishing his sundae, Starsky sighed in contentment and favored Hutch with a soft smile. His eyes sparkled with pleasure and for a moment, Hutch was certain that Starsky was alert and oriented. Then the veil dropped over those expressive eyes again, taking Starsky back into the shadows of his own mind.
Hutch sighed softly as he tried to think of other ways to break through the wall that Starsky seemed determined to hide behind. In random moments of weakness, Starsky seemed to let down his guard, seeking some kind of reassurance from Hutch's presence. But whenever Hutch tried to get too close or initiate contact that Starsky wasn't ready for, the wall fell firmly back into place once more. The rest of the day passed without incident with Starsky dozing occasionally. Hutch even managed to get a little sleep himself.
Although there was a television in the room, Hutch ignored it. Most of the programs were in Vietnamese and the ones that were in English were poorly made or several years old. So Hutch spent most of his time reading, sometimes aloud to Starsky, who seemed to be listening even if he didn't seem to be paying attention. Starsky drifted off to sleep fairly early that evening and Hutch soon joined him, exhausted from the long hours of boredom.
At first, Hutch wasn't sure what had awakened him. Then he heard the soft shuffling of rubber soled shoes on the tiled floor. Opening his eyes, he peered through the semi-darkness in the room as a young Vietnamese nurse dressed in a white uniform moved to Starsky's bedside. A soft glow of light from the hallway allowed Hutch to see the hypodermic needle she held in her hand. Instantly alert and alarmed, Hutch jumped to his feet and said sharply, "What in the hell are you doing?"
The woman yelped in surprise and looked at Hutch with wide, frightened eyes. She said something rapidly in Vietnamese but Hutch shook his head unable to understand her. When she reached for Starsky's arm, determined to give Starsky the shot, Hutch reached over the side of the bed and grabbed her wrist tightly to stop her. "NO SHOTS!" Hutch hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Speaking rapidly again in Vietnamese, the young woman tried to pull her hand out of Hutch's grasp. In broken English, she insisted "Must give him shot."
"What's in it?" Hutch demanded, refusing to let go of her hand.
"Make him sleep." the nurse stammered nervously, her eyes darting around the room as if she was searching for someone to come to her aid.
"He's already asleep." Hutch pointed out sharply. "He doesn't need a damn shot to make him sleep!" he tightened his grip until she winced in pain and he could feel the delicate bones grinding together beneath his hand. Pinching the pressure point in the back of her wrist, he heard her gasp as her fingers fluttered open and the needle fell harmlessly to the bed beside Starsky.
Suddenly, the girl turned into a wildcat, struggling to break away from Hutch while screaming wildly. She dug her long sharp nails into the back of his hand making him wince but he refused to let go. With a determined glint in her almond shaped eyes, she bent her head and sank her teeth into the back of his hand.
With a surprised yelp of pain, Hutch released her and cradled his injured hand to his chest. The young woman immediately ran for the door, only to be stopped by the appearance of the night nurse and two orderlies.
"STOP HER! DON'T LET HER LEAVE!" Hutch ordered fiercely. The two orderlies grabbed the woman by her arms and held her captive as she continued to struggle and scream at them in Vietnamese.
Annoyed by the screaming, the nurse snapped in stilted English, "Get her out of here and call security!" As the two men led the still screaming woman away, the nurse quickly moved to Starsky's side to make sure he was unharmed. The brunet was awake, his eyes wide with fear, breathing heavily. He immediately jerked away when the nurse tried to touch him.
"It's okay." Hutch said to the night nurse. "I'll take care of him. He's not hurt; she didn't have time to give him whatever was in the damn needle."
Noticing the needle on the bed, the nurse carefully picked it up with a frown. "He's not scheduled to have any shots. I'll take this down to the lab and have them analyze the contents immediately then I'll call the local police to make a report."
"So that woman doesn't work here?" Hutch said, voicing his own suspicions.
"No, I've never seen her before and I've worked here for eight years."
"Call Detective Chang and Doctor Barnes. Get them both in here right away." Hutch ordered.
"Yes, sir." The nurse said respectfully, hurrying from the room to do as Hutch ordered.
Turning to his highly agitated partner, Hutch lowered his voice and reached out to gently brush a wayward curl back from Starsky's eyes. "It's okay, buddy. You're fine. I told you that I wouldn't let anyone hurt you again." Starsky looked at Hutch, his eyes searching the big blond's face. Finding the reassurance there that he seemed to be seeking, Starsky slowly began to relax, still confused and disoriented from his rude awakening.
