Part 7

A few hours later, after what had turned out to be a pretty uneventful evening, Huggy was still no closer to discovering what it was that was obviously preying upon Hutch's mind. He awoke sprawled out in a rather undignified position on the couch. Hutch had obviously placed a blanket over his friend's sleeping form before turning in for what was left of the night himself and it had now somehow become entangled around him.

He lay where he was, quiet for a moment, feeling the swelling body heat as it became trapped beneath the tightly swathed blanket, and he fidgeted uncomfortably to try to free himself. Although the layout of Hutch's apartment was far from unfamiliar to him it still took Huggy a moment to remember where he was – the moderate level of alcohol he had consumed still having not completely cleared from his system.

Huggy could still remember the day of Starsky's shooting as though it had only happened yesterday – the call which had come from Captain Dobey to tell him what had happened, to let him know that Starsky was in the hospital, and that they didn't expect him to survive.

The memory of that call still struck a chill to his heart. He felt his breath hitch in his chest, and a tear well in his eye.

He was, by his own consideration, a street smart man with a relatively thick skin, and his heart could be a hard one to crack. It had been a necessity for survival, on the streets where he had been born and brought up, not to show emotion. It had never paid to wear your heart on your sleeve. Any display of emotion could be seen as a weakness, and treated as such. However he wasn't ashamed to admit to the fact that he had sobbed on his way to the hospital that day, fearful of what he might find once he got there.

By the time he'd reached 'Memorial' that afternoon he'd managed to compose himself, but Hutch had been in a bad way – waxen and still trembling with shock – and it had been hard to have to watch what he'd gone through in the days following. It had killed Huggy to look through the large viewing window into Starsky's dark hospital room, and to see his friend hooked up to the life support machine, with so many tubes running from his broken body as he had fought so fiercely to cling onto life. The bandage swathed around his torso had concealed his bullet ridden body from view, but the knowledge of what the achromic gauze disguised had been terrifying.

He hadn't been able to think of Hutch without Starsky – they were both just like two halves of the same whole – and no matter how hard he had tried to come to terms with it, life without the curly haired brunette had seemed an unbearable and unthinkable prospect.

Despite the very obvious differences between Huggy and his two close friends, which might in another time and another place have prohibited a rapport as close as theirs, Starsky and Hutch were both very dear to the him. He couldn't imagine his life without either of them, or the effect which the loss of one might have on the other. They were Huggy's best friends, he'd do anything for them, as he knew in his heart they would for him.

He glanced over blearily at the clock on the wall, and seeing that it had just turned 4' o' clock in the morning somehow managed to wrestle the blanket from around him and sat up, his head hanging tiredly within his hands. He felt hot and drowsy, although not unpleasant as he might feel if he was overcoming a hangover – but there was a slight sense of foreboding. He got unsteadily to his feet and began to make his way over to Hutch's small kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

He hadn't got very far when he heard a muffled groan coming from the direction of Hutch's bedroom. This eventually turned into a series of strained whimpering sounds, and, cautiously, Huggy crept over to the threshold of the room to see what was going on. He could just about make out Hutch's unsettled form where he lay sprawled out on the bed, thrashing frantically and twisting and turning from side to side in an obvious state of distress.

Huggy recalled what Starsky had said to him on the phone earlier, and the urgency he'd detected in his voice. Suddenly everything seemed to become clear and the pieces of the jigsaw began to slot into place. Hutch really wasn't coping with Starsky's attack at all. Huggy had noticed it, but hadn't known things had been quite this bad. Hutch had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, as he had seemed to withdraw further into himself. He'd been less sociable than normal, preferring to spend time alone rather than with his friends, and Huggy hadn't been blind to the weight he'd lost – he sighed sadly.

As Hutch continued to toss and turn, entangling himself within the bed sheets, Huggy made his way over to his friend's side and perched himself down softly on the edge of the bed, before gently placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Hutch… Hutch…" He whispered. "Hutch its Huggy, wake up."

Hutch appeared to relax slightly at the sound of his friend's voice, but still he didn't stir from unconsciousness. He paled, and as Huggy noticed the film of sweat start to appear upon his brow the dark rings around his friend's eyes suddenly became more prominent.

"Hutch…" Huggy persisted in trying to rouse him. "Hutch wake up."

Hutch's eyes cracked slowly open, and he licked his dry lips as he looked up at Huggy.

"Oh… Huggy." He squinted as he made out the form of his friend leaning over him through the darkness. "What's the matter?

"You were dreaming, tossing and turning in your sleep… must have been quite a bad one." Huggy explained sympathetically. He noticed Hutch's pale skin had started to develop a deep grey, almost greenish hew to it and, in his opinion, the man didn't look very well at all. "You cried out." He told him. "Can you remember why? What you were dreaming about?" He pressed him.

Hutch didn't respond, but he knew that he didn't have to. Huggy had already worked it out for himself, and he didn't need Hutch to tell him to confirm what he already suspected.

"Was it Starsky?" Huggy ventured to ask him, not wanting to put Hutch under pressure. He had obviously been suffering in silence for a while.

Hutch closed his eyes, this small and silent gesture telling Huggy everything he needed to know. He patted Hutch reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Hutch, you can't carry on like this." He sighed. "We have to get you some help."

"I don't need help." Hutch growled, already beginning to sink back into sleep however, and finding it an impossibility not to give into the wave of exhaustion which enveloped to him, no matter how hard he tried to resist it's tendrilous grip.

"I'll call Captain Dolby." Huggy said softly to his friend. 'Although he won't appreciate being disturbed this early in the morning', he thought to himself as he crept from the room. "You need to take the day off tomorrow, you can't go into work like this."

"I'll be alright." Hutch muttered. "Stop fussing."

'I'll make sure that we get plenty of breakfast down you in the morning as well for a change,' he thought – it was obvious that Hutch hadn't been eating properly for quite some time, 'see if we can't start putting some more weight back on those bones'.

"We can visit Starsky at the hospital." He told Hutch, standing on the threshold of his friend's bedroom. "That way you'll have the day to spend as long as you need there."

"I've told you I'm fine." Hutch insisted, but his voice was slurred and Huggy doubted that he would remember this part of their conversation in the morning. He suddenly fell silent and his body went limp. Huggy wondered for just how long he had been subjecting himself to this late night ordeal, and how long had this been going on unnoticed by his friends. Maybe even since this whole terrible situation had begun, he considered, wringing his hands with guilt.

"It's time to stop thinking that you're the one getting Starsky through all of this Hutch." He said out loud to himself. "You need each other more than ever right now."

Hutch was oblivious to his words however, although Huggy was relieved that for now he seemed a little more settled and relaxed.

Huggy made his way over to the small coffee table on which Hutch's phone usually sat, but finding it missing he quietly crept back into the bedroom. Hutch had obviously moved it so that he would hear if the hospital called him in the night, and bending down – being careful not to disturb the man in the bed beside him – he unplugged it and stealthily made his way back into the sitting room. He dialled Captain Dolby's number and waited. This was certainly one phone call he wasn't looking forward to making.

It rang for a long time before somebody finally picked up the receiver on the other end, and Huggy was almost about to put the phone down when a gruff and irritable voice answered with a snap. "Yes, who is it?"

"Captain, this is Huggy." The young man said, not to be put off by the man's abrupt response. "I'm at Hutch's place."

"Huggy?" Dobey asked – and he could hear the annoyance in his voice. "What in hell's name are you doing calling me at this hour in the morning? Don't you know what time it is?"

"Yes Captain, I do." Huggy persisted. "But there's something that I think you should know."

"Well can't it wait until the morning?" The older man asked, his impatience clearly mounting.

"No Captain." Huggy insisted. "It really can't… I'm afraid it's about Hutch."