Tough as Old Boots
"How's that partner of yours doing, Hutchinson?" The question was from Eddie Jones, one of the senior detectives in the Robbery squad. He was a man who knew what it was like to have an injured partner and therefore the question was filled with genuine concern, both for Starsky and the man in front of him.
Hutch smiled at him. "He's healing fast. The hospital's letting him out today. Actually, I'm just on my way to pick him up."
Eddie smiled. "Good job he's as tough as old boots! Send him my best."
"I will, Eddie. Thanks."
Hutch hurried out of the building and down to the lot to collect his car. He took a second to make sure the passenger seat and the footwell were clear of debris before he started the engine. As he drove the short journey to Memorial Hospital, Eddie's words ran around his head.
"Tough as old boots."
"He isn't though, is he?" Hutch thought. "Starsky's as fragile and friable as the next human being. One inch lower and he could have lost permanent use of his left hand. One inch to the left and he might have been paralysed. One inch to the right and one inch deeper and the bullet could have penetrated the back of his heart."
Hutch knew thoughts like this were unproductive but he couldn't seem to keep from torturing himself with them. The department psychiatrist (that he had been forced to see after the incident) had warned him that it would be perfectly normal for him and his partner to have flashbacks or intrusive thoughts once the initial shock had worn off. The man had informed him that they had been involved in a very intense incident and it was bound to affect them.
"Tell me something I don't know," Hutch mumbled.
The first few days after the shooting, every time he tried to close his eyes, all Hutch could see was his own hands pressed against Starsky's shoulder trying to stem the flow of blood from where the bullet had penetrated, causing massive damage as it sliced through skin, muscle and veins. When he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, he almost expected them to still be covered with blood. Fortunately, that flashback had eased off after a couple of days and he'd been able to get some much needed sleep, once he knew that his partner was out of danger.
Yes it was true Starsky was tough and a quick healer. Within two days he was demanding to leave the hospital so that he wouldn't miss out on Christmas. It had taken all of the doctor and Hutch's persuasive powers to get him to stay in until today. Arriving at the hospital, Hutch parked the car as close as he could to the main entrance and went in search of his partner. He was to be found already waiting on the ground floor, sat in a wheelchair by the admissions desk.
"What took you so long, Blintz?" Starsky grumbled.
Hutch found himself tensing with irritation but tried to keep calm. "Some of us have to work, you know, Gordo! We can't all be lounging around in hospital."
"Huh!" Starsky stood up and grimaced as he did so. "Let's get out of here."
They walked out of the building together. Hutch hovered close in case Starsky needed to lean on him for support. He could hear the little grunts Starsky made with every other step he took.
"Stop worrying, Hutch. I'm all right."
"Yeah, I can hear just how all right you are," Hutch retorted. "You sure you should be leaving the hospital yet?"
"Don't start mother-henning me or I'll call a cab to take me home. I don't need to be in hospital. The doctor's given me pain killers. I'm going to keep this sling on like they said and I promised to get lots of rest. I just want to be at home." Starsky suddenly stopped walking and looked at Hutch. "It's nearly Christmas, Hutch. I don't want to be in hospital for Christmas."
Hutch could see the disappointed little boy looking out of Starsky's eyes and carefully placed a hand on his friend's good shoulder.
"I know…Just let me help you a bit, okay? I'm not trying to mother-hen you; I'm just trying to make sure you get home in one piece. All right?"
Starsky nodded. "My shoulder's killing me, Hutch," he admitted. "Can you bring the car to me? I'll wait here if that's okay."
Hutch nodded anxiously. "Of course. Stay there."
He hurried over to get the car from the parking space and drove over to where Starsky stood. Hutch leaned over and opened the passenger door then jumped out and ran around to the other side of the car. Starsky took a sharp breath in as he carefully lowered himself onto the seat. Little beads of sweat appeared on his brow and he lost some of his colour.
Once his partner was safely in, Hutch gently closed the door and hurried back to the driver's side. As he pulled away from the hospital, he glanced over and noted that Starsky had his eyes closed. Hutch bit back a question about Starsky's well-being and concentrated on driving.
Even with his eyes closed, it seemed Starsky could read his thoughts. He answered the unasked question, "I'm doing fine, Blintz. Thanks for picking me up. I can always count on you, buddy."
Hutch smiled despite himself.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The next morning, Hutch stopped for pastries before looking in on Starsky. His partner had clearly not been awake for long; he was still in his robe but was already trying to do too much when he should be resting. Starsky was fighting one-handed with a cardboard box that he was trying to pull from its place at the back of a cupboard. Hutch put the pastries down on the kitchen table and then hurried over to his stubborn partner.
"Hey, let me do that. You go eat some breakfast," Hutch insisted.
"All right," Starsky said, slightly breathlessly. "There are two boxes in there full of decorations. I need 'em out then I can have a go at decorating bit by bit."
As Hutch dragged the two boxes out, Starsky bit into a pastry and said, through a mouthful of crumbs, "Thanks, Hutch. This is delicious!"
"You're welcome. Anything else you need out? I don't want to pop by later and find you've been climbing up ladders to get in the loft or crawling under your bed!"
"I just need my fake Christmas tree. The box is at the back of the closet."
"I'll get it," Hutch said. He returned a few moments later with a long battered box in his arms. "That it?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"All right. I've got to go to work. Don't overdo it. I promise I'll help with your tree and anything else after work or tomorrow. It's still three days till Christmas. Plenty of time."
Starsky nodded. "Be careful. Stay safe out there."
Hutch glanced at his partner's wistful face and reassured him, "I will, Gordo. I won't get into any trouble without you there to watch my back. You just take it easy and allow yourself to heal. Okay?"
Starsky grimaced. "Can't do anything else, can I?"
"That's the spirit!" Hutch teased.
Starsky rolled his eyes at his partner but then he grinned at him. "See ya later, Blondie."
Hutch nodded at him and hurried out, hoping that Dobey wouldn't shout too loudly at him for being late and that Starsky wouldn't try to do too much while he wasn't there to help. His partner was clearly still in a lot of pain but was just too stubborn to admit it.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Hutch called in at a bodega on the way home to collect some milk. As he came out again, he noticed a brightly decorated shop on the other side of the street. The owner was just beginning to put away the items that were laid out on tables in front of the shop window. He hurried across the street and peered in at the window at the decorations, gifts and trinkets that were on display. A large cream candle was nestled amongst smaller votive candles and plastic holly and berries. Hutch quickly entered the shop and purchased the candle, which he then carefully carried back to his car.
When he reached Starsky's place, he could see it was in darkness. He felt a moment of anxiety, wondering if his partner had relapsed and was lying on the floor dying. He shook himself and tried to think rationally.
"Starsky's supposed to be getting lots of rest so that's probably what he's doing," he told himself.
Hutch smiled at the wreath on the front door that Starsky had put up right at the start of December. Hutch had rolled his eyes at his partner back then, protesting that it was too early to start decorating. Now, he wished he hadn't done his usual moan about the shops starting to sell Christmas cards and decorations straight after Halloween; or that decorations were appearing earlier every year; or that people only liked the frivolity of decorations and completely missed the point of the season. What did it matter when his partner started decorating if it made him happy?
He let himself into the apartment as quietly as he could; still trying to squash the irrational fear that his friend had collapsed and was hurt rather than resting. He was relieved when he didn't see Starsky lying on the floor; even more relieved when he heard gentle snoring coming from the bedroom.
He put the large candle down gently on the coffee table and went and peered into Starsky's bedroom. In the slight glow of the street light, he could see Starsky was lying on the bed on a pile of pillows; it seemed his partner was still struggling to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in because of his painful shoulder. At least it was just a painful shoulder wound; it could have been so much worse. Hutch tried to stop the irrational thoughts from starting but they ran round his head again, circling and circling until they had run their course. Silently, he watched his partner sleeping and found that the sight gradually calmed him. Starsky was here, he was recovering and he was going to be back to full fitness very soon. Although not as quickly as he knew Starsky had hoped.
Hutch shook his head as he pulled the door to and turned to look at the living room. "Tough as old boots, maybe. Stubborn as a mule, definitely." Starsky had clearly not waited for his help. He had managed to get his tree together and had opened up the boxes of decorations but that was as far as he had got. The effort of putting the tree together had clearly exhausted him.
Hutch knew his partner wouldn't rest or feel happy until his decorations were up. It was time to get to work. Hutch started with Starsky's collection of plastic holly and berries, which he draped around the cream candle he'd bought. He stepped back to assess the sight. Nodding his head with satisfaction, he dragged Starsky's three sets of lights out of the box and tested they were all working, which fortunately they were. He wrapped one set around the tree and then added a few of Starsky's favourite baubles. He didn't put too many on, knowing that Starsky would want them to string popcorn on Christmas Eve and add those to the tree.
He decided to hang the other lights up too; one set above the breakfast bar and one across one wall of the living room. The glow from the tiny, sparkling lights instantly made the room feel more Christmassy. Hutch found himself humming a Christmas carol.
Carefully, Hutch opened the flaps wider on the second cardboard box and began to rummage. Stifling a snort, he pulled Starsky's Santa from the box and found a place for it on the counter. Hutch thought it was tacky but he remembered Starsky grinning with delight when he'd spotted it at a market just before Christmas last year. Hutch shook his head fondly as he thought about how much his partner loved Christmas.
All of a sudden, he found himself yawning. It had been a long day and he should go home and get some rest himself. Maybe he should leave the rest of the decorating until tomorrow. No, if he didn't do it, Starsky would probably wake up and decide to stay up all night trying to get it done. Hutch didn't want his partner to wear himself out and he also believed that his partner would feel a lot better if he was surrounded by his Christmas stuff. Maybe, if Hutch could get it done, Starsky could relax and just enjoy it.
Hutch opened another smaller box and found it stuffed full of Starsky's card and paper ornaments that he had collected since childhood. Very carefully, Hutch tacked them to every vertical wooden surface he could find. He found a delicate paper snowman with a little message written in pencil on the back: "Happy Christmas Davey, love Ma."
Hutch swallowed down an emotion he couldn't even begin to identify and painstakingly unfolded the ruffles that made the snowman into a three dimensional decoration and then pinned him onto the doorframe. Maybe all the reminders of home, childhood and his mother would help Starsky heal quicker. He could only hope.
Finally satisfied with his work, Hutch left the last few remaining decorations in the boxes and piled them up to one side. If Starsky wanted to swap things around, he could do it tomorrow; that would give him something to do but wouldn't wear him out. Hutch took the time to write a note to his friend and left it where Starsky would see it.
He tiptoed back to the bedroom and peered through the crack in the door. Starsky still slept. Across the space, Hutch sent him good thoughts filled with wishes for peaceful sleep and quick healing. Then he crept out of the apartment and headed to his own home, looking forward to the phone call he was sure to receive once Starsky woke up. He hoped his partner would like what he'd done. If not, he could re-arrange it all tomorrow under Starsky's direction. Anything to help his partner feel better and keep him on the road to a full recovery.