Part Two
Starsky finally collected enough branches to be able to tie into a decent litter for his haphazard partner. The physical exertion, despite the probable damage it had done to his already injured ribs had helped him work out some of his anxiety. He needed to be strong for Hutch and the lost hikers, after all, and it would hardly do for him to lose his cool.
He backed into the door with the branches over his shoulder, and called out, "Hey, we got any ropes or something we can use to tie these together?"
He turned around to start setting the branches out on the floor when he noticed two things: First, that all the hikers were standing up, in a semi-circle behind the front counter, looking pale, and second, they were standing around Hutch who was lying on the ground, completely still.
Starsky froze, knowing instantly that something was wrong. "What's going on?" he demanded coldly.
Carol took a shuddering breath that sounded like a sob. "H-he…he just…"
Starsky ignored her and started forward. "Hutch?"
He dropped the limbs he had been holding and rushed the last few steps to his partner, collapsing to his knees next to the still figure.
He took Hutch's face between his hands and patted his cheeks, but got no response besides the blonde's head lolling to one side.
"Hutch?" Starsky called again, more frantically as he slid his hand down to Hutch's throat and felt for a pulse, a breath, anything. "Hutch, oh god…What happened?" He looked frantically up at the three hikers. The girl looked away, burying her face in her husband's shoulder. "What happened?!" Starsky demanded, hands clutching in Hutch's jacket, still trying to rouse him.
Carl stepped forward, his face calmer than Peter or Carol's, neither of whom would meet Starsky's eyes. "I don't know. He just…went. I guess he'd lost too much blood or something."
Starsky was reeling, trying to make sense of any of this. Had he missed something? Had Hutch been bleeding internally or something? He had been as bad off as expected, being shot, but he hadn't shown extreme signs of shock or anything. How could he just…
"Look, I'm sorry," Carl said, his voice emotionless. "But we need to go."
Starsky didn't look up; his eyes were still glued to Hutch's face. God, Hutch…
"Please," Peter spoke up finally, his voice shaking. "I—I really am sorry about your partner, but those drug dealers are probably back by now and they could be out looking for us."
Starsky wanted to tell them all to get lost, but he had a duty, and Hutch wouldn't want him to get these people killed just because he wanted to sit around and mope.
He drew a deep, steadying breath and looked up. "Fine, let's go." He couldn't quite keep the poison from his voice, but at the moment, he couldn't manage much better.
Carl was already almost out the door, while Starsky turned back to his partner and cupped the side of his neck. "I'll be back for you, huh?" he said softly. "I'll be back."
Then with herculean effort, he climbed to his feet, allowing the numbness that was currently enfolding him because of his shock at the situation to keep him going, pushing everything else down. He was probably going to pay for it later when reality hit, and it was going to hit hard. But right now, his job was to get these people out of the woods. And until then, if he kept thinking on the track his mind was currently going, he might just lie down next to his partner and give up and that would do no one any good.
It was even darker now. Night had fully set in and the path was dangerous. Carl took the lead and Starsky brought up the rear, keeping an eye on all of them. He probably normally would have noticed how Carl was getting more and more anxious as they went along, but all he could think about was leaving Hutch in that cabin when he had promised he wasn't going to go anywhere without him.
Not that it matters now, his mind supplied nastily. He can't care much now, can he?
Starsky's hand clenched into a fist and he fought against a tight pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his battered ribs. He couldn't allow himself to think of Hutch anymore. Not right now.
Carol cried out and tripped, Peter barely catching her. Starsky swallowed hard and hurried toward them, getting in to prop up her other side.
"Come on, not much farther," he murmured.
She took a shaky breath. "Detective Starsky…I'm sorry about your partner. I…"
"Shh," Peter hushed her a little too sharply. Starsky was too distraught to notice Carl glancing back over his shoulder at them.
Finally, they got to the trailhead and Starsky breathed a sigh of relief, heading over to the Torino so he could try and call back to the station.
Just at that moment however, the sound of sirens filled the air and Starsky glanced down the road to see an ambulance arriving.
"Thank God," Peter sighed, relieved as he waved his hands in the air.
The ambulance pulled up on the side of the road and the EMTs piled out as Peter ushered his wife toward them.
"Are you all good now?" Starsky asked them and Peter nodded. "I'm gonna stay here with the car to call this in and then…well, I'll be at the hospital later to take your statements."
Peter nodded and Starsky was about to head back into the woods, his only thought getting Hutch back, when an EMT stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"Hey, where are you going?" the man demanded.
"Get off me," Starsky snapped.
The man only held on tighter. "Not until I figure out what's going on here."
"Look, I've gotta get back to my partner," Starsky pleaded, already pulling out of the man's grasp. "I had ta…had ta leave him, so I just gotta go back."
"Look, you're not going anywhere until we get a statement," the EMT said sternly. "All we know is that someone called for an ambulance. We have no idea if you're the kidnapper or not, so there's no way we're letting you go until the police arrive."
"Look, I am a cop!" Starsky shouted, feeling his lungs constricting with anxiety and pain and a thousand other emotions. He was breathing heavily, his broken ribs pressing hard against his lungs. "I'll get there when I get there!" He riffled through his jacket for his badge but couldn't find it. "Look, I think I lost my badge in the fight, but you can call my captain, his name is Dobey—Ninth Precinct. Now I gotta go!"
"Sir, I can't let you go! We gotta figure out what happened here!" the EMT insisted. "Now we gotta get these people to the hospital, so can you get in?"
Starsky moved without another thought and clocked the EMT in the jaw. The man spun around, catching himself on the side of the ambulance. Starsky was already hurrying at a fast clip back into the woods when the other EMT tackled him, and he was brought to the ground, jarring his ribs painfully. Starsky cried out at the sudden pain, but still struggled.
"Let go of me!" he cried, desperation overwhelming any common sense now. "I've gotta get to my partner!"
"Here, sedate him before he hurts himself."
Starsky whipped around in time to see the EMT he'd punched carrying a syringe over. Panic set in, causing all reason to fly. Panic and the loss of Hutch. He thrashed, struggling despite the pain in his ribs, but the EMT was bigger than him and pressed him against the ground as they jabbed him with the needle. Starsky felt the effects immediately, shifting groggily as the man got off of him.
"Hutch," he slurred as he was dragged upright, and that was the last thing he remembered.
Starsky woke slowly, not fully aware at first what was going on. His head felt fuzzy, which was not a comfortable feeling. It reminded him too much of his time undercover at the mental asylum—not a pleasant memory. He briefly wondered if he was still back there, but he could have sworn they had finished that case.
"Huu'ch," he slurred out, sure his partner must be close by…
Memory slammed into him like a semi-truck. Hutch being shot, pulling the bullet out, walking through the woods, making a litter, before going back to the cabin and finding Hutch on the floor, not breathing, no sign of life.
Hutch.
Starsky shot upright, pain tearing through his chest, stopping him from moving for a second as his head swam from both the sudden agony and the drug. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to figure out where he was.
Hospital, obviously, he realized. He was lying in a bed, still fully clothed, which was odd. What was even more odd was that he was handcuffed to the bedrail.
He stared at the cuff incredulously, and yanked at it. "Hey!" he called.
A nurse came in, seeing him awake before she called out for a doctor.
"Hey, get me out of this!" Starsky demanded.
"Please calm down, sir, the doctor hasn't finished treating you yet."
"So this is how you treat patients typically? Lock 'em up until you're done?" Starsky snapped, motioning to the cuffs.
The nurse seemed unfazed. "The EMTs who brought you in said you were hysterical, we thought it was best for the safety of everyone."
"Hysteri—I'm a cop!" Starsky said. "My badge got lost, but I can prove it to you if you let me make one phone call to my captain."
"You can talk to the doctor about that when he gets here," she said in a no-nonsense voice.
"Look, I don't even have to do it. I'll give you the number. Just ask for Captain Dobey. Please!"
A man Starsky took to be the doctor walked into the room then, and waved the nurse out, a frown on his face as he reached Starsky's bed. "I see you're still causing problems."
Starsky stared at him in indignation. "I'm not trying to cause problems, doc! I just want to get a few things straight! I gotta make a report to my captain, and I gotta…I gotta get my partner out of the woods." He swallowed hard, choking on the words, still unable to speak the truth about Hutch's condition. "Come on, just let me out of these cuffs." He rattled the cuff for good measure.
"You're not going anywhere," the doctor said. "You have two cracked ribs that need tending, and the men who brought you in said you attacked them. One of the men who came in with you confirmed that story. Until we figure out what's going on, you're not leaving that bed."
Starsky lay back in defeat as the doctor performed an examination, taking his pulse and lifting his shirt to prod his ribs. That was probably Carl who had so helpfully given his statement about Starsky's less admirable actions. He wondered if any of the hikers had said anything about the initial rescue and Hutch's shooting.
"You can't keep me here, at least not without letting me call my captain," Starsky told him firmly.
The doctor finished his examination, and turned to prepare some kind of medicine for the IV he had Starsky on, probably for the pain.
"Come on, just one phone call," Starsky pleaded, then more sternly. "This is obstruction of justice, you know."
But the doctor simply stared at him before injecting the new medicine into the IV.
"Perhaps I'll let you use the phone later, after you rest," he said and turned around to leave the room.
Starsky felt the medicine begin its numbing effects on his body and wished it could do the same thing to his soul. He still couldn't, wouldn't, allow himself to believe Hutch was really gone. He kept expecting to see him walk through the door to his room, a teasing expression hiding his true worry as he cracked some quip about Starsky being lazy for lying in bed when they should be working. It made no sense. None of it made any sense.
There was a soft knock on the door and Starsky looked up with surprise to see Carol standing there.
"Hi, um…can I come in?" she asked timidly.
"Sure," Starsky said, still surprised to see her there.
She didn't look much better than she had before, but there was gauze covering the garish abrasions on her wrists and a couple bandages on her forehead and she was wearing a clean robe. She sat gingerly in a chair she pulled over.
"You doing okay?" Starsky asked her.
She bit her lip. "I'm better now that we're here. Peter is sleeping, but I…I couldn't…" She looked away, and Starsky saw her lip trembling. "I really am sorry about your partner."
Starsky felt the words stab him but he swallowed hard and nodded.
Carol looked like she was going to say something, then shook her head, and said, "Did…did you need my statement?"
Starsky sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "Not right now. My head's still a little fuzzy."
"That was awful what they did to you," she said. "I tried telling them you were a police officer but…"
Starsky suddenly had an epiphany. "Hey, can you do something for me?"
"Of course," she replied, a little startled.
"They won't let me use the phone, so can you call my precinct? Just ask for Captain Dobey and tell him what happened and where we are. He'll send men here to get your statements. And get me out of these damned cuffs." Starsky tugged again, angrily.
Carol nodded eagerly. "Yes, I can do that. There's a telephone right down the hall. Just let me have the number."
Starsky gave it to her. "Remember, ask for Dobey."
She nodded and pushed herself upright with some effort before leaving the room.
Starsky watched her go and went back to his attempts to get out of the cuffs.
Not that it mattered. Not much mattered at all to him right then, except the still form of his partner lying out there in the middle of nowhere waiting for him to make good on his promise and return.
Carol made her way down the hall to the payphone and punched in the number for the police precinct.
When the secretary answered she said. "Um, yes, is Captain Dobey there? I need to speak with him."
There were a few nervous seconds while the phone connected and an impatient sounding voice answered. "Dobey."
"Hi, um, is this Captain Dobey?" she asked lamely, anxiety making her nervous.
"Yes, who is this?"
"M-my name's Carol Johnson, I was one of the kidnapped hikers. I'm calling on behalf of Detective Starsky."
That seemed to gain the captain's attention. "Starsky? Where is he? Why isn't he calling himself?"
"Th-there's been a mix up," she said. "He lost his badge in the woods, and…" She swallowed hard, her voice shaking. "We're at the hospital, but they have him restrained. And…and his partner was shot in the woods." She choked back a sob, still unable to get the sight out of her mind of the poor blond detective staggering through the woods, of that man Carl strangling the life out of him while Peter just stood there, not doing anything.
"Detective Hutchinson?" Dobey's voice snapped. "What happened?"
"It was terrible! The other man who was captured—"
She gasped as Carl suddenly appeared at her shoulder and snatched the phone from her hand, slamming it back into the cradle as he leaned in dangerously close.
"I really hope you weren't doing what I thought you were doing," he growled. "You had best go back to your room and forget what happened before I decide you're too much trouble too."
Carol was trembling with fear, but she hurried past Carl and practically ran back down to the hall to the room she and Peter had been given. She had no idea what to do now. She should tell Detective Starsky that she'd called his captain but if Carl found out…
Why was it that she didn't really feel like they had been rescued at all?
Hutch gasped awake, lungs spasming so violently they nearly choked him. The act caused agony to tear through his middle and he rolled weakly onto his side, curling up and squeezing his eyes against the pain in both his abdomen and his throat.
"St-Starsk," he croaked, trying to breathe as slowly as possible, craving oxygen, his chest and lungs aching. After a few long moments, he felt a little more alive. Or at least as much as could be expected in his current state. He was just surprised that Starsky wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Starsk," he croaked again, reaching up to rub his throat where that man had throttled him…
The man's face. He finally remembered where he had seen it before. Having it be the last thing he'd seen before he passed out had helped. He'd been one of the suspects attached to the drug ring—a runner if Hutch remembered correctly. He was surprised he and Starsky hadn't realized it before but he supposed that with him being shot, and finding the guy tied up in a closet that kind of messed with even their perception. But maybe Carl had tried to double cross the others or something and they had been planning on disposing of him along with the hikers.
Only question was: where were Starsky and the others now?
Hutch pushed himself up into a sitting position and that was a herculean effort. He leaned back against the desk he was lying behind, breathing heavily, arm curled around his stomach. The bullet wound was still bleeding sluggishly, but he wasn't sure what he could do about that right now.
"Hey…Starsky," he called again and finally found the strength to look around the desk, seeing what he had suspected all along.
There was no one in the cabin. Not Starsky, not the hikers, or Carl.
Hutch saw a pile of sticks by the door and vaguely remembered Starsky saying he was going to make a litter to carry him. A really bad feeling started in his gut that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. He knew Starsky wouldn't have left him here, despite his own urging. Not unless he was taken out of here by force or…
Unless he thought Hutch was dead.
That thought tore into Hutch's chest, knowing exactly how he would feel if he were in Starsky's place under those circumstances. The urge to get to his partner as soon as possible to reassure him that he was still alive was nearly smothering.
Either way, Starsky, and possibly those hikers, were in trouble, and he had to warn them about Carl, get word back to the precinct if Starsky hadn't already.
That meant getting up.
Hutch took a deep breath and began the act of raising himself up onto his knees.
Voices could be heard outside the cabin and he paused, listening harder past the pounding of his heart in his ears.
"—might be hiding in here," one of the voices said. "There's foot prints."
Hutch ducked back behind the desk, a small thrill of fear running through him. That wasn't Starsky or the others, it must be the rest of the drug ring. They'd probably finally made it back to the cabin and found their two dead comrades and their prisoners missing, planning to hunt them down before they could call the police.
Hutch was in trouble.
He did have his gun though, Starsky had made sure to tuck that back into his holster before they'd left the hideout, and if he could get the jump on them…
Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps leading up to the ranger station. There wasn't a lot of time. Hutch quickly grabbed for one or the large branches Starsky had cut for his litter and pulled it toward him with a wince, crouching in the shadows where the one lantern still burning didn't reach.
His gun was in his other hand, both trembling, probably from blood loss and the onset of shock, but he had no time to think about that right now.
The door rattled and two dark figures stepped into the cabin. Hutch could see the outlines of guns, held out.
"Doesn't look like anyone's here," one man said.
"They were," the other commented, picking up the lantern. "And probably not gone long."
They were getting close to the desk and Hutch knew he had to make a move now before they found him. He shifted, trying to get the stick into position and it clunked on the floor.
"What was that?" one of the men snapped as they both spun around, heading toward Hutch's hiding place.
Hutch wasted no time in lashing out with the branch, sweeping the first man's legs from under him. He cried out as he fell and Hutch lurched forward toward the open door.
Hands grabbed his coat from behind and he was yanked backwards and slammed to the ground.
Pain lanced through him and he gave a choked off cry, as the two men stood over him.
"Well, well, what have we here?" one demanded. "You're not one of our runaways."
"Police," Hutch gasped out, and somehow managed to whip his gun out, shooting the man in the leg.
The drug dealer cried out and collapsed. Hutch kicked the gun from his hand and snatched it, rolling over to point both at the second man.
"Don't," he said as the man looked like he was going to raise his gun.
The man clenched his jaw, but lowered the weapon.
"Kick it over," Hutch grunted.
The man dropped the gun and nudged it toward Hutch.
The blond detective fumbled one-handed for his cuffs, grabbing the hands of the man he'd shot who was groaning on the ground, and snapping one cuff around his wrist before motioning to the other man with his gun. "Get over here."
The man complied reluctantly, but seemed wary enough of the gun to ignore Hutch's condition. He sat down on the ground and Hutch snaked the cuffs through a radiator on one side of the room, before snapping the other cuff around the second man's wrist, effectively keeping them both secured.
"Now sit tight," he said before pushing himself to his feet slowly and with great effort. His bullet wound was bleeding again from the fall, and badly. He could feel the hot blood welling up under the makeshift bandage. He stowed all the guns and turned to the desk again, glancing under and finding a first aid kit. He tossed it to the man he hadn't shot.
"Here, take care of your buddy."
He glanced over at the radio they had used earlier to call an ambulance and lurched in that direction, turning it on. But it seemed like whatever signal they had gotten earlier, wasn't coming through now, and after a few minutes of endless turning dials, Hutch gave up with a curse, heading toward the door.
"Wait, you're just gonna leave us here?" The one man asked, pressing a patch of gauze to his buddy's leg. "He needs a hospital!"
"And he'll get one. Just plug the wound for now," Hutch said and bent carefully to grab one of the cut branches, using it as a walking stick to prop himself upright. Looks like it was coming in handy to get him out of the woods after all, though not in the way Starsky had intended.
He left the cabin, remembering someone saying something about a couple mile walk back to the trailhead. He hoped someone would be driving by this time of night that he could hitch a ride with, though he wasn't sure what sort of respectable person would let a man covered in blood into their car, even if he did show them his badge.
It was not easy going. Hutch had survived a few injuries on the job in his time, but he'd never been gutshot, and he didn't think he'd ever been in so much agony. Add to that his bruised throat, which was making breathing difficult and painful, and the general blood loss, he wasn't sure he could make it down to the trailhead, much less all the way to the hospital.
But he kept thinking of Starsky, of how his partner probably thought he was dead, and that gave him a little strength to keep going, knowing he had to put his best friend's mind at ease. And finally, it worked, because he found the trailhead without collapsing, though his wound was still bleeding badly enough to leave a small trail of blood behind him.
Worry began to gnaw at him again, though, when he saw the Torino parked where they had left it. Why would Starsky leave the car there? Unless he had been taken by force after all. Hutch wondered if Carl hadn't forced Starsky and the hikers out of the woods. But then why wouldn't they have taken the car out of here? Maybe they had all just ridden in the ambulance. Whatever the case, Hutch was still determined to get to the nearest hospital, hopefully before Carl split, or got desperate enough to try and off Starsky like he'd tried to do to Hutch.
He pulled out his keys, and slid into the Torino, unable to help the gasp of pain. He sat for a long moment, eyes closed and head tipped back, before he switched the radio on and got a blessed signal.
"This is Zebra Three," he croaked. "Can anyone hear me?"
"Zebra Three, this is dispatch."
Hutch felt relief wash over him and he pressed the receiver to his forehead for a brief moment, saying a silent prayer. "Thank God, can you patch me into Captain Dobey, please?"
A brief moment before the connection went through and then Dobey's voice. "What do you want?"
"Captain, this is Hutch," Hutch breathed, relieved at hearing the angry voice.
"Hutchinson?" Dobey demanded, sounding shocked. "What the hell is going on? Some girl called me a few minutes ago saying you were dead, and Starsky's locked up in some hospital I didn't get the name of!"
Locked up? Hutch didn't have time to think of that right now though. "Look Captain, you have to get a message to Starsky, one of the kidnapped hikers we found wasn't a hiker, he was part of the drug ring, Carl something-or-other. He tried to kill me, and now Starsky and the hikers might be in danger too."
"Do you know where they are?"
"Probably at the hospital, we were able to call an ambulance from the ranger station I think. Which one is nearest River Park trailhead?"
"That would be Fairview," Dobey said. "Okay, we'll get over there as fast as we can. Where are you?"
"I'm still at the trailhead, but I'm heading to the hospital now," Hutch told him already starting the engine and pealing out down the road, his driving even more reckless than usual due to his pain and desperation.
"You be careful Hutchinson," Dobey said before the call cut out and Hutch was left in silence, just concentrating on getting to the hospital and hoping he wasn't already too late.
Starsky drifted in a fuzzy state brought on by the pain medicine, but he knew when someone had entered his room.
He blinked his heavy eyelids, trying to make out who the figure standing over his bed was, half expecting to see blond hair and blue eyes, but the figure was too short and dark for his partner.
He was also too alive.
The pain hit Starsky all over again as he remembered the last time he'd seen Hutch, lifeless and pale on the floor of that cabin. He was so caught up in that thought that he didn't fully recognize who the figure in the room was until he saw him poking around at the cupboards to one side of the room where medical supplies and some medicine was kept.
"What're ya doin'?" Starsky slurred, frowning.
Carl turned around and Starsky began to get a bad feeling cutting through the fogginess of his brain as he saw a syringe in the man's hand.
"Sorry, Detective, but that girl made a mistake and now I'm gonna have to take you out like I did your partner."
"Hutch," Starsky murmured before the words fully set in, chasing away the rest of the fog, replaced by fury and pain. "You killed Hutch!"
Carl shrugged. "I had to get out of there before my former coworkers showed up," he said. "And you wouldn't let me leave alone, so I did what I had to do. Like I'm doing now." He turned to the IV drip attached to Starsky's arm and injected whatever was in the needle and a whole lot of it into the tube.
Frantic, Starsky scrabbled at the needle stuck in his arm, and tore it out before the drug could reach him. "You want a double murder on your hands? One cop was enough to put you away for a really long time."
Carl chuckled. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm the victim here, aren't I?" He reached down and yanked the pillow from under Starsky's head. Starsky struggled, yanking against the cuffs that still kept him locked to the bed.
"Hey! Nurse!" he shouted before Carl slammed the pillow down on his face, muffling further protests or calls for help.
Starsky struggled, flailing with his free hand, but the drugs in his system had made him weak and Carl had the upper hand, forcing the pillow more firmly against Starsky's face.
He was suffocating, clawing at the pillow and Carl's hands more and more weakly before a hand snaked around his throat as well, adding to the problem. This was how he had killed Hutch too. His partner unable to fight back. And Starsky hadn't been there. No one had tried to stop him…
"Stop!"
The shriek startled both of them. Carl instantly let up the pressure and Starsky threw the pillow off, gasping for breath, seeing Carol standing there in the doorway, eyes wide with shock.
"Carol…" Starsky gasped out in warning before Carl launched himself toward her and snagged her.
"You've caused enough problems already," he snarled. "What do I have to do to you so that you'll keep your mouth shut?"
"Leave her alone," Starsky gasped, bringing a foot up to start kicking at the bed railing, trying to weaken it enough to free his cuff from it.
Carl smirked, grabbing another syringe from the nurse's station. "Oh, I'll leave her alone, as soon as she's quiet."
Carol screamed and after that everything seemed to happen at once. Starsky finally kicked at the bedrail and broke it so that he could slip the cuffs, ignoring the pain that lanced through his side as he dropped to the ground awkwardly. But at the same moment the door to the room crashed open and the last person Starsky expected burst through.
Hutch stood there, gun raised and covered in blood, white as a sheet, and Starsky could have sworn he saw Carl wet himself at the sight.
"Let her go," Hutch growled.
Carl dropped the syringe and Carol lurched out of his grasp as Hutch stepped forward and slammed the butt of his gun into the man's head. Carl dropped like a rock and lay still on the ground.
Hutch stared at him for a long moment before he turned his gaze to Starsky.
Starsky stared up from his crouched position, unable to say anything but a strangled, "Hutch?"
And then the blond detective swayed on his feet and started to collapse.
He made it to his knees before Starsky lurched forward to catch him, gripping his shoulders as Hutch slumped.
"Hey," Starsky said, cupping Hutch's face to pull his head up, meeting his partner's eyes with his own wet ones, emotion nearly choking him as he fought for words. "I thought you were dead."
Hutch exhaled heavily, reaching up with a limp hand to grip the back of Starsky's neck. "You know it would take a lot more than that to kill me, partner."
Then he sagged fully, and Starsky caught him and pulled him close. He glanced down and placed a careful hand over the site of Hutch's wound and felt the warm blood coat his hand instantly. Fear clutched at his throat again as he saw it was still bleeding. "We need a doctor in here!" he shouted.
Carol, who seemed to have gotten over her shock, hurried out the door, calling for someone.
"It's okay now, you big lug," Starsky said fondly to the limp form in his arms, not sure if Hutch could even hear him. He rubbed his partner's back soothingly. "You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."
The doctor and nurses came in, and Starsky had to bite back his instinctive protests as Hutch was taken from his protective hold, but he knew Hutch would be okay.
They both would be now.
"Easy, just a couple more steps."
Hutch grunted and leaned more heavily on Starsky as the other man helped him up the steps to his apartment. He'd spent three days in the hospital before he had refused to stay another day. The bullet hadn't done any damage a few stitches and a couple pints of blood couldn't fix so he had decided that he would rather recover at home in his own bed.
But maybe, he decided as they finally got to his door, he would settle for the couch for now.
Starsky seemed to realize this before he even said anything and steered him toward the couch as soon as they got in the door. "Why don't you rest right here and I'll get you something to drink? What d'ya want?"
"Just water," Hutch said as he leaned back, closing his eyes as he fought to get his breath back, one hand wrapping protectively around his aching stomach.
He heard Starsky rummaging around in his kitchen, mumbling about going shopping, before he came back with a glass of water, and bent to take Hutch's shoes off, since he couldn't bend very well right now.
A blanket was wrapped around him before Hutch finally cracked his eyes open. "You done?"
Starsky looked slightly embarrassed, and straightened with a slight wince. His ribs were healing too. "You don't want my help, I don't have to give it. Thought you might be cold."
Hutch couldn't help a small smile. His partner was quite the mother hen, especially when he had gone through a scare, and Hutch couldn't blame him. He hadn't been much better after Starsky had been poisoned either, but even then, he hadn't thought his partner was dead. He'd just been afraid that he might lose him. He knew this had taken a toll on Starsky, and even though the case was wrapped up and the men brought to justice finally, Hutch knew there was still a few things that needed to be made clear between them.
"Starsk, wait a second," Hutch said and Starsky glanced over from where he was tidying up the coffee table.
"You need something?" Starsky asked attentively.
Hutch shook his head and motioned to the couch. "Come on, sit down. I know your ribs are killing you."
He'd been watching Starsky favor the side all day and he knew helping Hutch up to the apartment hadn't done them any good. Starsky took a seat gratefully, only adding to Hutch's suspicious.
"Are we gonna talk about this?" Hutch asked him.
"Talk about what?" Starsky asked innocently, not quite meeting his eyes.
Hutch fought the urge to sigh. "About the fact that you thought I was dead."
Starsky wet his lips, jaw tight, before he shook his head jerkily. "No." He made to stand up again, but Hutch reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Starsky, come on. You can't just pretend it didn't happen."
"No, I can't," Starsky snapped, finally turning toward him. "Because every time I close my eyes, all I see is you lying there…"
The haunted look in his eyes caused an ache in Hutch's chest and he loosened his grip on Starsky's wrist so that he was just resting his hand on his friend's arm, an anchoring touch. "Starsky, I know how I'd feel in that position. That's why I want to make sure you're okay."
Starsky sighed heavily. "I am, I just…I think this is just gonna be one of those things that haunts me for a while, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know," Hutch murmured. He remembered what it was like after Starsky had been taken by Simon Marcus too. How he would wake up for a couple weeks afterward having dreamed of finding Starsky strung up and hacked to pieces instead of alive. There'd been a lot of him sleeping on Starsky's couch that week, partly to help his partner through his trauma and partly for himself.
"I just wish I'd recognized Carl sooner," Starsky shook his head, running a hand over his face. "I just…I wasn't thinking right."
"We both should have recognized him," Hutch said tiredly. "But it's over now, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Starsky mumbled.
Hutch nudged him slightly before he took on a lighter tone. "You know, it wasn't very sporting or you to leave your dead partner to have to rescue you and the girl."
"That's not even funny," Starsky groaned.
Hutch smirked, goading. "It's a little funny."
Starsky stared at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Alright, it's a little funny. You're a hero."
Hutch's smirk widened and he leaned back again and closed his eyes, exhausted, but feeling better now that he'd gotten into Starsky's head a little.
He blinked again as he felt Starsky gripping his shoulder. "Hey, pain meds first. It'll help you sleep."
Hutch didn't even protest as Starsky brought the bottle of pills over and Hutch took the proscribed amount before he sank down more comfortably on the couch and Starsky readjusted the blanket around him.
"Wanna watch some tv?"
"Daytime television?" Hutch murmured.
Starsky grinned. "You love it and you know it." He flipped the tv set on and turned the volume low before he made to sit on the other side of the couch.
Hutch attempted to move his legs, but Starsky simply lifted his feet and placed them across his lap, seeming unbothered by his partner's sprawl. In fact, he rested one hand on Hutch's ankle and squeezed comfortingly, a reassurance for both of them.
And with that feeling of safety and care surrounding him, Hutch finally allowed himself to drift off, getting some much-needed rest.