PARTNERS (What If?)

I came to and blinked around groggily, at first unable to remember what happened. And then, seeing the hospital room and my white gown, all the pieces flashed together in my head like a bunch of film clips and I remembered that I'd crashed the Torino chasing some two-bit crook down the highway.

Hutch.

I looked over at the hospital bed beside mine, saw it empty, raised up off my pillow-

"HUUUUTCH!"

-and buzzed for the nurse.

A cute one came running. I must have sounded like a braying elephant.

"What is it, Mr. Starsky?"

How could I tell her or make her understand?

I didn't know where he was, if he were hurt. But I knew one thing. If he was okay, he'd be right here in my room with me, and he wasn't. My heart was pounding like a racehorse.

"My partner. Ken Hutchinson. We were in the car together. I gotta know if he's okay."

"Okay, don't exert yourself. I'll go get the doctor."

"Hutchinson," I reminded her as I settled back onto my pillow a little. "Ken Hutchinson."

She hurried out the door.

I felt a little better, figuring he had to be alive. Because if he were dead, Dobey or Huggy or some doctor would be here to tell me when I woke up, right? I mean, I'd feel it.

While I waited for word on Hutch, I checked myself out, finding I only had a scratch above my eye covered with a Band-Aid.

Huh. No broken bones. No big cuts. Not so bad. Stay a night for observation and we'd go home the next day.

It was a few more minutes of waiting, and I couldn't help but look over to the empty bed.

Hutch should be there. It wasn't such a bad crash, was it? What was I supposed to do, NOT chase that speed demon?

Hutch told me to slow down, that it wasn't worth it. But me, I couldn't let that guy get away.

I heard voices at the door and sat up, hoping Hutch would come in with them and give me grief about driving like Mario Andretti and crashing the car. But there was no Hutch. Just a doctor, and Captain Dobey.

The cute nurse politely bowed out, closing the door softly as she went.

I could see from Dobey's face that it wasn't good. The doctor was trained to deliver bad news in a calm, professional manner, but Dobey's expression gave it away.

I looked at Cap, not the doctor.

"Where's Hutch?"

I was beginning to breathe harder. My chest rose and fell in quick pants.

When they only looked at each other, I took Cap's forearm and pulled him closer. "Where is he?"

The doctor cleared his throat to begin his speech.

Tired of waiting and wanting to see Hutch, I threw the covers back and swung out of bed.

Sorry I did, too, because the room began to spin and I swayed sideways.

Cap took my shoulders and sat me down, then leaned over to me and gave me a serious look with tears in his eyes.

Tears from Captain Dobey were not good.

"He took some pretty hard knocks, Starsky. Head injury. Bumps and bruises. No broken bones. But . . . "

That's as far as Cap could go. He was still leaning over me like I was a little kid who needed steadied for a big letdown.

The doctor took over.

"But he has a spinal injury, Detective. He's paralyzed from the waist down, and we don't expect him to ever walk again."

The news hit me so hard that a cloud of black passed before my eyes.

I blinked and squinted at Cap through the dark fog. "He's para . . . " I found it very hard to swallow. "Doc, you gotta be wrong about this. Maybe if you run some more tests or . . . "

I must have had one strange look on my face, because the doctor said, "I'm sorry."

(I'm sorry?)

What does sorry mean?

I'm sorry for giving you the worst news of your life?

I looked from Cap to the doctor, my dark haze finally passing. "Does he know?"

The doctor nodded. "We told him, but I'm not sure how much he understood under all that medication. He's sleeping. We'll talk to him again tomorrow, explain it more thoroughly, when he's fully awake and oriented."

"I . . . " My throat was getting tight. Oh, Hutch, what have I done to you? "Cap, I need to see him."

"Tomorrow," the doctor said.

"No," I said getting off the bed again. "Right now. If he wakes up during the night . . . I need to be there."

"Huggy's with him," Cap said. "You need to rest."

I settled back on the bed, just pretending to go along. "Yeah, sure. I'll rest."

Cap eyed me like he suspected I was faking.

"I'll come back around," he said as he and the doctor moved toward the door.

When they were gone, I was left to stare at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning. What do I say? What do I do? How can I take it back?

When the day nurses left and the night nurses came is when I put my robe on and slipped down the hall to the nurse's station to find out Hutch's room number.

324.

Guilt settled into my bones like some kind of parasite as I made my way down the hall and to his room. How does it happen so fast? You go to work, do your job. In the back of your mind you have an idea that something like this could always happen, but you never really think it's going to. I would jump in front of a locomotive for Hutch. But slow down when he tells me to? Just couldn't do it. Is that crazy? It wasn't Forest who brought him down. Wasn't some goon with a gun who took it all away. And after all the times Hutch was there for me. Saved my life. Is this how much I think of his?

I quietly pushed the door open to Hutch's room. There was a small light on in the corner, and Huggy was dozing in the chair next to the bed. Hutch was asleep, breathing deeply and heavily, white bandages around his head, some cuts and bruises on his face. I slipped quietly over to the bed and just stood there, no intention of waking him up because he needed his rest. He was under such heavy medication I don't know how he heard me. Guess he just sensed I was there, because his heavy eyes, a velvet blue because of the medicine, blinked open and gazed at me for a minute. There was this faraway look in his eyes, like he was wondering if he was really seeing me, or was he just dreamin'? Either

way, his fingers moved to the edge of the bed and I squeezed his hand.

I tried to say something, but the words just wouldn't come out.

And then, just like a light going out, his eyes closed and he was asleep again.

There wasn't anything else for me to do except go back to my room and try to get some sleep.

But it didn't come that night. All I did was stare at the wall and think about what I should have done different, and how I could ever make it up to him.

The next morning I was up and dressing in my clothes when the cute nurse came in to check on me.

"Mr. Starsky, what in the world are you doing?"

"Gettin' clothes on, what's it look like?"

"You're not planning on going AWOL on us, are you?"

I zipped my jeans and buttoned my shirt. "Not while my partner's here."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"No thanks." I reached down for my shoes and fought a wave of dizziness.

"Whoa," I said as I sat down in a chair.

The nurse came over to me. "You're doing too much. You took a knock to your head too, you know."

"I'm all right," I said as I put my shoes on and tied them.

"Are you going to see your partner?"

"Yep."

"Would you like a wheelchair?"

"Nope."

"At least let me escort you to his room."

"No thanks. I know where it is."

I left her standing in my room as I went down the hall to 324.

Huggy was standing outside Hutch's door like he was guarding it.

"He awake?" I asked as I put my hand on the door to push it open.

Huggy wasn't smiling, and he looked as ragged and frayed as I felt. He moved my hand down off the door and stepped in front of me. "He is."

Huggy and I stood chest to chest.

"Look," I told him. "I'm in no mood. I didn't sleep last night. My head's poundin' like a sledgehammer. I need to talk to-"

Huggy shook his head no. "He doesn't need this right now, Starsk."

"That's not for you to decide," I said as I pushed him aside and stepped in the room.

Hutch was awake like Huggy said. He looked tired and washed out in the morning sun that came through the window and fell across the bed.

Right then I knew both of our lives had changed, and forever.

"Hutch," I blurted out, my voice on the verge of a sob. "I'm sorry."

Those two words. Sometimes so big. Sometimes not big enough.

It was the strangest thing. How his hand came up and stopped me in my tracks. One gesture. The physical force of Huggy's body couldn't keep me out, but Hutch's brief movement blocked me like a tank. And the worst part was that he turned his head away from me on the pillow. Couldn't even look at me.

"Hutch," I said, but not moving closer to the bed. I actually held my hands out like I was begging. "Please. I know I can't take it back, change anything, but I still want to be here for you . . . help you out . . . "

God. My own words were making me sick to my stomach. They sounded like plastic blocks coming out of my mouth. I could just imagine how they sounded to Hutch.

He still wasn't looking at me. His head was still turned away, toward the window. I saw his throat move as he fought a sob, and then it felt like the floor was being yanked out from under me.

Huggy moved in front of me again, as if to block Hutch's view of me.

Without Huggy having to say anything this time, I turned around and left, going back to my room to sink onto my bed, numb, drained of every ounce of physical and spiritual life that I had.

Our lives had changed all right, and it was my fault.

I walked out of the hospital without telling anyone and caught a cab home.

The phone was ringing when I got there, and it was Merle calling to tell me he was working on the Torino.

"I'll have it good as new in a day or two," he said in a too-cheerful voice.

"Keep it," I told him, and hung up.

There was no way I could drive that car again.

I'd lost my appetite and still couldn't sleep, so all I could find to do with myself was walk around the neighborhood, thinking about how bad Hutch must be feeling. He'd lost everything because of me. His legs. His job. I felt like crawling in a hole. I'm responsible for my partner's safety, and look what I do. How can I ever make something that bad go away?

"Make it a double," I said as I set my glass down in front of Diane again at Huggy's bar. "Better'n that, leave the bottle. I'm not drivin'."

She eyed me like she was about to say something, but she didn't. Ended up giving me the bottle.

I drank on the Bourbon pretty hard, liking the fuzzy feeling it gave my head. Hutch didn't hurt so much then.

I took Diane's wrist when she reached for the phone.

"Who you callin'?" I asked her. "Huggy's at the hospital with Hutch. Dobey's at the hospital with Hutch. Everybody's there but me."

She replaced the receiver and came around to my side of the bar, where she put an arm around me and kissed my cheek. "Bad mistakes happen sometimes, baby. We know you didn't mean to hurt him."

"I did more than hurt him. I destroyed his life."

She stood with me, her arm around me, leaning her head against mine until I was finished with my bottle. Then she said something to one of the waitresses about watching the bar and helped me up the stairs to Huggy's apartment and put me to bed.

I was drunk and could feel it, and I didn't care.

"Can't take it back," I droned over and over as she pulled my shoes off and loosened my belt. "Can't undo it."

"Sshh," she said as she climbed into bed beside me, stroking my face, humming me a song, trying to kiss my heartache away. "We all know you'd trade places with him if you could."

I appreciated that she understood, but her words didn't make me feel any better.

I sat in one of Merle's loaners, parked across the street from Hutch's place.

Diane told me Huggy was bringing Hutch home from the hospital today, and I wanted to be close by.

Huggy. Good old Huggy. Showed up in some white van with black leopard spots on the side. Got something for Hutch to complain about, I know.

Only Hutch wasn't doing much complaining, or talking at all for that matter, when Huggy opened the sliding doors of the van and set a wheelchair on the sidewalk.

I had to put my forehead down on the steering wheel at the sight of it.

No way. That couldn't be real.

Up till now I thought I'd accepted the reality of it, but seeing that wheelchair for the first time, I realized I only thought I had.

That would be Hutch's life from now on. How would he adjust?

My breath sounded short and fast in the confines of the front seat, and it took all the strength I had to raise my eyes off the steering wheel to look back at the van. Huggy was struggling to lift Hutch from the front seat and down into the wheelchair.

Hutch put an arm around Huggy's neck and tried to assist.

I couldn't help it. I wanted to run across the street and help him, and actually had the car door open. But I stopped myself at the last minute. Hutch really didn't want me here. He hadn't called me. Hadn't asked me to come.

So I just sat there gripping the steering wheel and watched Huggy push Hutch to a nearby apartment, up a small ramp, and inside.

Nearby apartment?

Oh my God. Why didn't I think of that? Hutch couldn't use Venice Place anymore. Not with all those stairs. He had to take a ground-floor one. Huggy must have had all of Hutch's stuff moved for him. Without telling me, and without asking me to help.

I closed my eyes, fighting against the images that muscled their way in: Of Hutch running every morning, so fast and strong. Running that money all over town when we handled that kidnapped girl. Running down the street at that Mexican bar to keep me from getting creamed.

No more running.

No more partner.

I'd just have to find a way to live with what I'd done. Like Hutch had to.

I was cleaning out my garage when I saw Captain Dobey's car pull up to my curb.

It'd been, how long since we'd talked? Weeks ago. Since the hospital.

He leaned back against the grill of his car and watched me toss some old rugs and blankets into a pile.

"I didn't come to give you a hard time," he said as he folded his arms across his chest. He was dressed in casual clothes. Short-sleeved shirt and golfing pants.

"Good," I said as I kept working, and without looking at him.

"I just uh . . . came to see when you were coming back to work."

I brushed my hands off on my black T-shirt and stuck my hands in the pockets of my khaki shorts. "I'm not."

He studied me a long time, then said, "You're a good cop. I'd hate to lose you."

"Just a sec, Cap. Be right back."

I left him resting against the front of his car with a curious expression on his face while I sprinted up my stairs and came back down with my gun, holster, and shield.

"Here," I said putting the things into his hands. "Ain't no way I want to be a cop after what I did to Hutch."

He looked down at the things in his hands, then back up. "Starsky, things happen. Nobody knew-"

"HUTCH KNEW! AND I KNEW! HE TOLD ME TO SLOW DOWN AND I DIDN'T LISTEN!"

"Starsky! Do I have to knock some sense into your head?"

We were both drawing looks from my neighbors, who were outside washing their cars and or walking their dogs on this fine Saturday morning.

"What are you going to do for a job?" he asked hotly.

"I'm workin' with a construction crew across town."

He snorted like he was disgusted, then took my gun, holster, and shield and tossed them into his back seat.

"I'll be around if you need me," he grumbled as he slid under his steering wheel and took off.

I returned to cleaning out my garage.

I didn't have any feelings one way or the other about my new job. Take it or leave it. A paycheck. Nothing of meaning about it. Not like there'd been when me and Hutch were cops. That was more than a paycheck. I think we'd have done it for free, except that we had to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths.

Glad you're not here to see me, Pop. I don't think you'd be so proud now.

I thought about Hutch non-stop as I helped build houses. Like what he was doing, how he was doing it. Grudgingly admitting that I was glad Huggy was there to help him out. Some days I was glad to have a hammer in my hand just so I could pound out some of my frustration.

So many times I wanted to just head over to his house for lunch, just to say hi, or take him somewhere, see how he was gettin' along. But it was useless when he didn't want to see me. He had a right to feel the way he did. I don't blame him. If I hadn't been so reckless, he'd still be walking, we'd still be working together, and would still be friends.

You think nothing can harm a friendship like the one me and Hutch had. Except that you don't count on one of the friends doing the harm.

So, as much as I wanted to go over to his place to see him, I didn't want to make him feel worse than he already did.

One day I was sitting on a sawhorse at the site and eating my lunch when I looked up to see Kiko walking toward me.

I didn't even have a smile for him. Couldn't remember the last time I smiled at all. Food tasted like mush. I slept badly. I just worked through the day to pass the time and make a living, and then I went home to a boring, Hutchless house.

"Hi, Starsky. How you doing?"

"How's it look like I'm doin'?"

He chopped the heel of his sneaker into the dirt. "About as bad as Hutch. You need to go see him. He's not doing so hot."

I stopped chewing my sandwich and narrowed my eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's not eating, and he can't sleep, and he-"

I held my hand up. "Kiko, he has a right to feel bad. You realize what happened? He can't walk. He can't do police work. All because of me. I have to accept how he feels."

Kiko closed my lunch pail. "Starsky, he didn't come to the door this morning when I went to see him. I don't know if he was home or not. I went to see if Huggy could help, but he was gone too."

I walked over to the foreman and told him I needed to take the rest of the day off. He gave me a funny look but didn't say anything. I'd worked seven days a week for him plus overtime every day, so he wasn't going to balk on a few hours. I was the best man he had.

"How'd you know where to find me?" I asked Kiko as I went to my black Nova.

"Captain Dobey told me."

"Need a ride home?"

"Why can't I go to Hutch's with you? He's my friend too."

"Just get in the car. You're goin' home."

I dropped Kiko off at his house, then drove over to Hutch's new place.

I didn't see Huggy's funky van anywhere, but I did notice that Hutch's tan Ford was nowhere around. Huggy probably sold it for him. Or at least took it to Merle's.

I walked up the three wide steps. A ramp was in the middle, with regular steps on each side.

"Hutch?" I said knocking on his door.

When I got no answer, I knocked again and raised my voice. "Hey, Hutch! Let me in for a minute! Kiko's worried about you!"

When I still didn't get an answer, I tried the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open a few inches.

Hutch caught it in his hand and swung it wide open.

"Want to come in and get a good look?" he asked as he backed up his wheelchair to give me room to come in.

The sight of him in the chair took my breath away. My knees went weak, and when I opened my mouth to talk, I lost my voice.

"Want to go play some wheelchair basketball with me?" he asked in a tight, low voice. "Or how about a nice roll on the beach?"

My voice cracked when I finally did find it again. "Hutch, I know there's nothin' I can say-"

He grabbed the front of my shirt and jerked me down to his eye level. His arms were as strong as ever. "Don't say you're sorry."

"But . . . " I swallowed. "I am."

Tears gathered in his icy eyes and he shook me a little. "Look what you did to me."

I nodded, trying to keep from crying myself. "I know. I didn't mean-"

He looked toward another room, the bedroom, and then back at me. "Sweet Alice came over last night, Starsk," he said in a trembling voice. "I cooked dinner for her, I played my guitar. We had a nice time. I tried to do something normal, you know? Like old times? And I tried to make love to her, but I couldn't. Not the way I wanted to. It wasn't normal, and it wasn't like old times. She said it didn't matter to her how we did it, as long as we did it and we were together. She said all the right things, and I know she meant them, but. . . but . . . I made her leave, even when she didn't want to go. So what do I do about that, Starsk? Huh? What do I do about making love to a woman?"

He still had my shirt clutched in his fists.

I just shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"Get out of here," he said as he shoved me back. I stumbled against the door and fumbled for the knob, my eyes on him all the while.

Words escaped me. I didn't have any left to say as I watched him turn his chair around and wheel toward the bedroom.

My visit only confirmed my worst fear. He really did hate me.

I couldn't believe it, but Huggy had a half-smile for me when I walked into his place that afternoon. Having just come from Hutch's, I was in no mood for one myself.

"Gonna eat?" he asked me as I sat down at the counter.

"You mean I'm allowed?"

"Hey, don't get me wrong. I don't like to see Hutch in his predicament, but I ain't holdin' no grudges."

I took my jacket off and leaned up on the bar. "Burger."

After he told Diane what I wanted, he turned back.

"You check on him every day?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Not every day. He don't want me around every day. He knows how to use a telephone. But sometimes I admit, I dream up an excuse to go over there, like takin' him a

sampling of new cuisine. He's keepin' busy with that new job of his."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Teachin' firearms safety and first aid at the police academy where you dudes trained."

I nodded.

"'course," he said with a careful look in my direction, "he says it don't compare to detectin', but you know, at least it's somethin'."

That evening I drove around until I ended up at Sweet Alice's. She was watering her plants on the patio in a lacey white dress.

"Busy?" I asked as I got out of my car and walked toward her.

She looked at my Nova, then at me with a smile. "Never too busy for you, hon. Come on in."

I followed her inside and over to the kitchen area. Her smile lit up the whole place, but I couldn't offer her one in return.

She poured two glasses of iced tea and handed me one at the kitchen bar. "Somethin' I can do for you, Starsk?"

I took a drink of the tea, then set the glass down. "I um . . . guess I want to thank you."

Her smile turned a little uncertain. "For what, sugar?"

"For bein' you," I said, and then on impulse, leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. I drank the rest of the tea, set the glass down, then walked on out.

Next Saturday, one half of my brain said go see Hutch at the academy, the other half said stay away.

But I gave in to my better half and drove across town to the academy.

Walking through the halls was weird. Familiar and strange at the same time. Old faces, new faces. Experience and fresh starts, all under one roof.

Sure brought back a lot of memories.

I checked at the front desk to find out where Hutch was teaching, then headed down to the gym. I didn't go in, I just stood in the doorway and watched as he trained about twenty students in basic first aid. Today he was demonstrating with a cadet how to do a leg splint.

Huggy was right. It couldn't compare to "detecting" but Hutch obviously had his heart in it, even making jokes with the cadets about how some of the splints looked. Making the best of the lousy situation I'd put him in.

I moved out of the doorway and walked back down the hall, then through the front doors and across the parking lot to my car.

I drove home thinking it was good seeing Hutch again and knowing he wasn't staying cooped up at his place.

Thirty minutes later I parked my car in front of my house and got out.

Somebody walked toward me, and at first it looked like any other old guy in a faded work hat and coveralls, but by the time I saw who it really was-Crazy George Prudholm, who I realized must have escaped-it was too late. He and a couple of his cohorts attacked me all at once with some baseball bats. I reached for a gun I no longer had, and then it was lights out.

When I came to, my head was in Hutch's lap and I wasn't sure if I were dead or alive. I heard a ceiling fan whirring above me and realized I was in Hutch's new apartment. Crazy George must have thought he'd killed me and wanted to dump my carcass on Hutch's doorstep.

I didn't know how bad off I was, but I couldn't move anything, and each breath was a stab to my lungs.

"Huh-" I coughed.

"Easy," Hutch said as he dabbed the caked blood away from my swollen eyes.

My hand groped up for him because my eyes were too swollen to open. I felt the hard floor under me and could tell Hutch was sitting Indian fashion with me halfway in his lap.

"That you?" I heard myself mumble from what seemed like a mile away.

I felt his hair, his face, then his hand as it clasped mine. I decided I was either dead and in heaven or was worked over pretty bad, because the last time I saw Hutch, he was in no mood to play Florence Nightingale.

"It's me," he said kindly. "Ambulance is coming. I found you outside my door when I got home from work. You know who jumped you, Starsk? I'll call Cap."

"Yeah," I muttered through my mashed mouth, but passed out before I could tell him anything else.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, couldn't tell if it was night or day, where I was or what was going on, but I could hear Hutch's voice nearby whenever I was conscious enough to hear anything at all.

My eyes were still puffed closed when I came fully awake, but I could hear Hutch talking to Dobey beside my bed about what had happened.

"I think he's awake," Hutch said as he came right up to the bed in his wheelchair and put his hand on my forehead. There was a slight creak in his wheels that I would learn to recognize as Hutch. Reminded me of his old car in a way. "You waking up, Starsk?"

I tried to nod but don't know if I did.

"Was it Prudholm?" he asked. "Huggy said he heard he escaped the sanitarium."

I guess I nodded, because Dobey said, "We'll get him, Dave."

Oh boy. I must have looked like Frankenstein's monster if he called me Dave.

Hutch's chuckle was gentle and affectionate, a familiar sound I missed, and liked hearing again. "Got my attention this time, didn't you, buddy?"

"You don't have to . . . " I struggled to tell him. "Stay. If you don't want . . . "

Hutch leaned closer to me and put his hand on my arm. "Starsk, I'll have to live the rest of my life in this chair, but I'd hate to have to live it without you around."

I couldn't control the groggy laugh that escaped, even though it hurt my face, my chest, and my stomach. "Thanks, George."

Last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep was Hutch saying, "So I hear you've been building houses?"

For the next few days I still couldn't move. I lay like hurting lumps of clay in the bed. One

broken arm, some cracked ribs, various bumps and bruises, and some stitches.

Huggy dropped by to bring a special meal, and Sweet Alice came by to model some new dresses she bought. Kiko brought his mother to see us. And best of all, Captain Dobey stopped in with the good news that he personally had arrested Prudholm after he traced a tip to a halfway house near his old hangout.

Hutch stayed right there by my side, bringing me things to drink, sneaking in some snacks, turning the TV to some old gangster movies, reading me some true crime detective magazines, being the consummate worrywart.

"You know, Hutch," I told him once I could pry my eyes open to look at him, "you'd make a good Jewish mother."

He actually beamed with pride at that remark. I just shook my head. It could be worse. He could be giving me the cold shoulder.

I wanted to talk to him about the crash, and about how bad I felt, and how responsible I felt, how things seemed bad right now but they would be okay, but I knew we'd already said what needed to be said. He'd forgiven me, and that's what I needed. We didn't need a lot of words, Hutch and me. But we did need each other. And as long as we had our friendship, we were still partners, and could face anything life had to offer.

End