Safe House
Chapter 14
Hutch walked into the familiar quiet environs of the ER and headed over to the cubicle in the corner – the one Starsky always seemed to end up in. As with countless times before, he worriedly checked over the sleeping form, noting the IV's; the catheter; the blood dripping into the wrist of the right, undamaged hand. Starsky was lying on his side, propped there by pillows, to take some of the pressure of his newly stitched back, which Hutch could get a look at for the first time. Left open to the air to aid healing, the blond cringed at the damage that had been inflicted. From shoulders down to where the sheet covered, just above the hips, there didn't seem to be a square inch that wasn't either bruised or cut, and he could only wonder at the pain the brunette must have endured.
Walking round to see the front of the smaller man, he realised there were bruises and cuts there too. His blood boiled at the inhuman treatment his partner had had to go through, feeling again the anguish at not having got to him earlier. He saw that the place usually taken up by the Chinese coin on the rawhide thong at the brunette's neck was now instead, devoted to a small white tube, held in place by a ribbon of white gauze, the official tracheotomy looking a good deal less bloody that the temporary one. He noticed too that Starsky's skin seemed to have recovered a little of its pinkish colour, meaning that at least he was now getting the oxygen he needed.
Still unconscious, the sleeping man looked peaceful, the face relaxed against the pillow, the eyelashes dark smudges against the lightly tanned cheeks. The handsome features seemed to be the only bit of his partner that hadn't been damaged. Hutch silently thanked the nursing staff who'd shot his friend full of morphine, knowing that Starsky hated the stuff normally, and fought against the cotton wool feeling it caused. But in this particular case, he knew that the drug would ease away the most painful moments of Starsky's initial recovery.
Hutch pulled up a chair and sat down next to the brunette, gently taking hold of the uninjured right hand, mindful not to disturb the drip. He suddenly realised just how tired he really was, and how much his own injuries were still hurting. In all the action of the past few hours, he had ignored his own body's needs, worrying instead about the smaller man's welfare. Hutch felt his eyes closing in the dimmer light and warmth of the room, and before he knew it, his head was resting on his partner's bed, and sleep overtook him.
Once or twice during the night he was disturbed by the two hourly obs. the nurses were doing, checking temperature, pulse and respiration and the flow rate on the drip. Once or twice, they injected drugs into the port on the side of the drip, and twice during the night they hung a new bag of A+ blood, replenishing the fluid the brunette had lost. Most of the time they worked around the big blond still holding his partner's hand, smiling at the uncommon bond the two men seemed to have.
In the early hours of the morning, Hutch was wakened by a gentle tickling on his head. Instantly awake, he looked up to see cobalt blue eyes staring back at him, full of questions.
'Hey buddy' he said quietly, 'welcome back. No don't try to talk, you've got a tube in your throat, remember. Just do two blinks for yes and one for no, OK?'
Starsky blinked twice, then twice again as Hutch asked if he knew where he was.
'They've stitched your back up and got rid of the bullet from your leg. Your wrist is broken but they're going to do an operation on that in a couple of days, when you're stronger. Have ya got a lot of pain?'
Two blinks.
Hutch called the nurse over. She checked Starsky's vitals, commenting that she hadn't expected him to be awake so quickly. Ordinarily, her patients would be out for quite some time after what Mr Starsky had been through.
The blond smiled 'He ain't an ordinary man' he explained, patting his partner's shoulder. The nurse went away and came back with another syringe. Starsky flapped his hand weakly.
'What's up Gordo?' Hutch asked. 'Ya don't want the drugs?'
One blink.
'Come on Starsk, ya need something. I know ya don't like it, but I'll be here. I'm not leaving'.
Another blink and the right hand flapped again. Hutch wondered what was getting his partner so agitated. Starsky made writing motions in the air with his hand.
'Ya want some paper and a pencil?' he asked
Two blinks. The nurse furnished them with the requisite materials and Hutch held the pad as the brunette fought with the pencil in his right hand. Unused to writing with that one, he managed to scrawl in childlike writing B E R N I E ?
Just like you, Gordo, always thinking about everyone else! 'Bernie is with Huggy at The Pits' he said. 'Dennis was shot dead by Barrera and the other two goons were shot by Barrera's chauffeur as they tried to escape. Then Huggy shot the chauffeur'.
He saw the brunette's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, knowing Huggy hated any sort of weapon.
'Yep, you heard, partner. Huggy "I ain't never holdin' a gun" Bear turned honorary cop and shot the bad guy dead. Ya should have seen him. Whilst I was lookin' after you, he took over the situation and ordered everyone round. So, now ya know, will ya take your meds like a good little policeman, and go back to sleep?'
The eyelids were already drooping, but there were two distinct blinks as the nurse finally got to administer the morphine. Then she gave the blond two aspirin and a glass of water, and went back to her desk.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In the late afternoon of the same day the doctor came round to see her patient and found him once again awake. She was stunned at the progress the brunette had made and the fact that Officer Hutchinson – she must remember to call him Hutch – was still there. Starsky had been turned over onto his back for a little while, and although he winced at the movement, at least he could now see what was going on.
'Hello David' she smiled ' I'm Doctor Chew. I was the doctor who looked after you yesterday when you came in. You're friend here did a very good job with your tracheotomy tube, but we put in a fresh one. However, I think, looking at the way the swelling on your neck has gone down, we may be able to take it out now. How do you feel about that?' It was her first view of the man whilst he was awake, and found herself drowning in those deep dark blue eyes.
Starsky looked at Hutch for approval, then nodded towards the doctor, the motion saying it all - for heaven's sake get his thing out of me!
'I'll go and get the necessary stuff, then I'll be back' she explained 'I need to pass a tube down into your trachea and have a look at your airways to check that you'll be able to breathe on your own. It won't hurt, but it will be uncomfortable. I'll put some numbing spray at the back of your throat first'.
She was back with a nurse within 10 minutes.
'OK David. We're going to give you something to help you relax, then we'll lie you down flat. 'Now I'll spray this on the back of your throat. Good. Now, just try and relax, OK?' she brought up the flexible bronchoscopy tube.
At the sight of the contraption, Starsky's eyes flew open and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Hutch held onto his hand, angry that once again his partner had to endure yet another invasive procedure after all he had suffered already.
Gently, Dr Chew inserted the tube into Starsky's mouth and fed the flexible pipe down, looking through the small eye piece, to check for swelling and obstruction. Starsky's body started to buck as his gag reflex took over, and immediately, Hutch had his hand on his partner's shoulder.
The nurse was at his side also, gently stroking the curls, 'Easy David, just try to breath through your nose, that's right. Its nearly done now, you're doing really well' she murmured soothingly.
Finally Dr Chew had seen everything she wanted to and made encouraging noises. 'I'm going to pull the tube out now. David. Just try to breathe through your nose. Good' she said pulling the bronchoscope all the way out. 'Well the good news is that the swelling has gone down well, so we can get rid of the trachy tube now'. She gazed down at the sweating man. 'I'll get the stuff together then we can do it now, and you can curse me all you like when you get your voice back'.
Two minutes later she was back again, making her preparations on the green swathed trolley she had wheeled towards the bed.
'OK David' she said leaning over he patient. 'I'm going to cut the gauze round your neck now. Then, when I give you a nod, I want you to cough, and I'll pull out the tube. It shouldn't hurt too much, but it will feel very strange. Just try to relax'. She felt the tension ease a bit from the brunette's body.
The nurse on the other side of the bed rested her hand on Starsky's damp curls, and Hutch once more took hold of his hand. Dr Chew reached towards the tube at the brunette's neck and took a hold.
'OK David. On my count. One…..two….three and cough'. As her patient coughed a silent cough, she pulled and the tube popped out of the wound, leaving a mark like a red raw navel in the centre of the brunette's neck. The nurse came forward and placed a white dressing over the wound and taped it down with micropore as Starsky experimentally coughed again.
Surprised that a small noise came out, he looked at the doctor and rasped 'Thought ya said it wouldn't hurt'.
She smiled at him 'I lied'.