Part 27

Almost an hour and a half later Huggy had still not arrived but Starsky had already laid the table. He watched Hutch now dozing peacefully upon the sofa, and as he himself was feeling comparatively better than he had earlier in the day he was now more than happy to take care of his long suffering best friend – as Hutch had so readily spent the whole day doing so for him.

Hutch was still so pale and thin, and as Starsky looked affectionately down upon his sleeping form he was suddenly struck with the same sense of helpless concern which had bothered him a few weeks earlier. That time somehow seemed like an eternity ago now, and yet in other ways just like yesterday.

Hutch was still clearly weaker than he was willing to let on. Although there was now a distinct fullness to his cheeks their tell-tale angry flush against the general pallor of his complexion gave away the fragility of his condition. The dark circles beneath his eyes had already started to fade, leaving instead swollen grey shadows in their wake, and he'd finally made the decision to shave away the moustache of coarse and wiry blonde hair adorning his pale upper lip, which Starsky had always thought made him look several years beyond his age. This had served to give him back much of his previously youthful appearance, but physically he was a man functioning far beyond that of his own years.

Starsky sighed to himself – mind plagued by melancholy thought. As he watched Hutch sleeping the blanket slipped and Starsky bent to catch it, draping it carefully back over his friend as Hutch shivered, before returning to the kitchen sink.

There he filled a fresh, clean jug with water – having found it drying on the draining board from breakfast – before placing it in the centre of the small dining table and taking a seat to await Huggy's arrival with the food.

He didn't have to wait much longer. After only a few minutes there came a knock at the door, and Starsky rose to answer it. Hutch stirred slightly in his sleep as his friend passed him, but he didn't wake, and Starsky proceeded to open the door quietly for Huggy.

"Special delivery for detective's Starsky and Hutchinson." The informant beamed back at him from the threshold, voice muffled behind a grease stained paper bag of fast food and a large bag of groceries, as Starsky stood aside to permit the mann entrance into Hutch's small front room.

"Where's the patient?" Huggy asked.

Starsky indicated sadly in the direction of the couch where Hutch was sleeping, and as Huggy's soft and sympathetic gaze subsequently fell upon the unconscious form of his blonde haired friend he nodded in understanding.

"I see." He sighed. "How's he doing?"

Starsky sighed. "Not too good today." He explained. "To be honest I'm a little worried about him."

"Starsk, it's our job to look after Hutch now. You just concentrate on getting yourself better."

"Thanks for doing this for us Hugg." Starsky smiled in gratitude as he observed the sheer amount of food in the bags loading down their friend, and he realised the obvious reason for the slight lateness of his visit. As well as the bag of hot food, the contents of which were set to be tonight's dinner; a carton of milk, half a dozen eggs, a slab of mature cheddar, a box of mallow cereal, about five apples, two oranges, a loaf of bread, a carton of freshly squeezed fruit juice, and several cans of soup of varying varieties were visible through the opaque plastic of the heaving grocery bag, which was bursting at its seams. "How much do I owe you?" He asked.

"Don't mention it. Anything for my two favourite detectives." Huggy smiled kindly as he entered, and placed the bag of food down upon the dining table. "Just a few little essentials as I didn't think either of you would be up to getting much in any time soon." He explained. "Don't trouble yourselves with the cost, you'd both do the same for me."

"We're really grateful to you Huggy." The curly haired brunette sighed.

Starsky closed the front door quickly to prevent the cold chill from following Huggy in from outside and the two men set about laying the table in silence – after the pleasantries of their initial greeting they both now seemed at a loss as to what else to say. Glancing down at Hutch neither of them knew what else they could do to make his life that little bit more easier. The worst of it was that his spirits had appeared to have improved somewhat over the past couple of weeks, he was trying to remain positive – but the state of their friend's physical health continued to be a huge source of concern for his closest friends.

"He looks so weak." Huggy sighed – not forgetting his own evening spent with Hutch only a few weeks before. As he stacked cans of soup in the cupboard, and replenished the fruit bowl he took a moment to reflect upon that evening and the hours he'd spent with Hutch, watching as he tossed and turned, crying out in his sleep, complexion blanched and the sweat trickling down his face, and he could feel the anger rising in the pit of his stomach. "If Gunther and his cronies were here now… well… I believe I could strangle them all with my bare hands for what they've put the two of you through." He growled.

"He still blames himself for what happened to me." Starsky sighed. "He thinks I don't know why he's so reluctant to allow himself to get better, but, whether it's as a result of the medication or the therapy I don't know, he's started talking more now rather than just crying out in his sleep, and… well… I just don't know what's worse. He blames himself for not rushing round to cover me when he realised what was going on – for following his instinct to dive for cover." Starsky rubbed at his tired eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. "He still replays the events of that day over and over again every night in his sleep. He's convinced himself that he could have saved me – that this is somehow all his fault – and I think that there is some small part of him which is still trying to punish himself for that. I just don't know if he is aware of it or not."

He released a pent up breath, and with this Starsky proceeded to quietly lay the table with plates and cutlery before serving the food Huggy had brought them. He equally divided it between three small dishes – insisting, despite his protests, that Huggy stay to dinner. As it turned out the creamed potatoes, meatloaf, and green vegetables divided itself quite nicely between three people – despite the fact that Starsky spooned out the largest helping of potatoes onto Hutch's plate and decided against giving him any of the meat loaf, considering it unwise after the evening's events and what the doctor had said. He didn't trust the strength of Hutch's stomach to tolerate the rich meat in gravy just yet. There were still some left over vegetables which Huggy placed in a glass bowl in the fridge to cool, before wrapping them in cling film later.

Soon, all which remained was the job of waking Hutch. Starsky observed his form sadly as he approached his side with caution – not wanting to startle him – and somewhat regretting the fact that he had to wake him at all when he'd only recently managed to settle down to sleep. But the simple fact remained that Hutch needed to eat, and as he bent down beside his friend Starsky shook his cold shoulder gently – the blonde stirred slightly but he still did not wake.

Starsky tried again, a little more vigorously this time, and when this didn't obtain the desired result he tried calling his friend's name. The drug's he'd given his friend earlier had also acted as a rather potent sedative, intended to relax him and allow him to rest as well as settling his stomach, and he wanted to avoid waking him too violently for fear of the action proving to be too much of a shock to his already fragile state. He even considered leaving him to continue to rest for a while and therefore giving him the opportunity to wake up a little more naturally, but finally Hutch began to stir, and he eventually opened his eyes – although it took him a few moments to readjust to his altered level of consciousness. His eyelids fluttered open slowly as though they'd been welded together with superglue in his sleep, and weighed down by cement.

"Hello sleepy head." Starsky smiled, looking down at him and smiling as Hutch finally appeared to notice his presence. He stretched, but paled slightly as he tried to get up, and Starsky gently eased him back down onto the couch. "Easy there." He cautioned him, one hand gently resting against his chest to steady him, as he sensed his friend's agitation and slightly heavy breathing. "Take it easy, there's no hurry. Just take your time." He advised.

The blonde was silent for a few moments, trying to control his laboured breathing and compose himself as another wave of nausea washed over him and Starsky sat himself down on the empty seat beside him. This had been exactly why he hadn't wanted to startle Hutch awake – but as the seconds passed and turned into minutes his breathing eventually seemed to ease and a little of the lost colour returned to his pale cheeks again.

Finally Hutch felt composed enough again to speak. "How long have I been out?" He asked, rubbing his dark and tired eyes wearily, still clouded by lingering sleep.

"About a couple of hours." Starsky explained, looking down at his watch. "Huggy's here, he's brought us some food."

As his friend said this Hutch noticed for the first time that there was indeed a distinct smell of food in the air – the scent of cooked meat to be exact – and, following his nose, he turned to observe Huggy sitting watching him from the table in the corner.

"Hey there Hutch." Huggy smiled his usual warm and friendly smile, getting to his feet and making his way over to join the two detectives. "Nice of you to join us."

"How are you feeling now?" Starsky proceeded to ask, observing him with a critical eye – the pallor of his complexion, the contrasting pink of his cheeks, his tired looking eyes.

'Clearly still not one hundred per cent.' He thought to himself.

Hutch considered this quietly for a moment.

"Still a little tired." He finally responded. "A little warm, and still a little sick, but I am feeling a little hungry, so a little better I guess."

Starsky placed the back of his hand to Hutch's forehead, feeling the uncomfortable heat radiating from his skin, and nodded. "Think you can make it to the table?" He asked.

Hutch nodded, sitting up slowly before allowing his body a moment to adjust to its new upright position, and gently manipulating each of his stiff and aching muscles.

"How does meatloaf and creamed potatoes take your fancy?" Huggy asked. "Minus the meatloaf."

Hutch smiled. "I think I'd rather have a hotdog." He remarked as his two friends helped him gently to his unsteady feet – although they still moved slowly. "With mustard, and relish."

Starsky laughed at this, a deep throaty chuckle filled with good humour. "Well that's fantastic buddy but I think we're both a little way off that yet." He explained. He couldn't help the joy which bubbled within him with this statement. Hutch was at last beginning to show signs of feeling better, and although progress was slow the baby steps he was now taking were still progress none-the-less – and that was more than enough for Starsky.