Hidden Damage
David Starsky was being quiet. A little too quiet if you asked his partner, Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson. They were riding in Hutch's car on the way to the station. That alone should have been topic for conversation, since Starsky couldn't ride in Hutch's car without making some kind of comment about it.
Hutch glanced at his partner. Starsky's left hand was on his lap, his right arm propped against the door, and his head resting on his right hand. He was staring out the window, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
Hutch replayed the events of the past few days in his mind, searching for some kind of clue as to what could be bothering his partner. They had just wrapped up a case involving a deaf-mute, Larry Horvath. Both men had taken to Larry, a sweet man with an equally big sweet tooth. No, that couldn't be it. The case had been relatively routine. And Starsky had finally been able to eat…a pizza and burritos all in one sitting, topped off with raspberry ripple ice cream. That couldn't be it either, unless of course he had a stomachache, but that was unlikely as his partner had an iron stomach when it came to spicy foods.
Hutch finally decided he'd had enough. "Okay, Starsk, what's eating at you? Something wrong?"
Silence.
"Earth to Starsky. Hey, Buddy, you okay?" Hutch reached out and tapped Starsky's arm.
Starsky turned to face Hutch. "Oh, sorry." Starsky reached up and pulled earplugs from his ears. "Did you say something?"
Hutch looked at Starsky, exasperated. "What are you doing? Why do you have earplugs in your ears?"
"I just wanted to see what it was like. You now, bein' deaf. I mean, I know wearing earplugs isn't the same as being deaf, but I just wanted to see what it was like not being to hear." Starsky turned to look out the window. "It's like you're not a part of what's going on."
Hutch placed his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Starsk, being deaf doesn't mean you're not part of what's going on. I mean, look at Larry and RC. They've got a business going. They've got friends. They can communicate. You saw that. I guarantee you that they know they are an important part of this world."
Starsky smiled, "Yeah, I guess so. I guess it was pretty stupid, huh, wearing earplugs."
"Nah, it just shows you care. You were trying to understand what their world was like. Nothing wrong with that." Hutch reached out his hand. "Can I have the earplugs?"
"What for?"
"Well, I figure now that you're going to start talking, maybe I should use them to tune you out." Hutch laughed.
Starsky pouted playfully. "Very funny. Very funny."
XXXXXX
Starsky and Hutch were at their desks when Larry and RC came in carrying a box labeled "Starsky and Hutch." Larry carefully placed the box on Hutch's desk. Inside were two kittens, a gray tabby and a yellow and white kitten. Hutch decided the gray tabby would be named for him and picked the kitten up out of the box. Not a minute later the kitten decided to christen Hutch's hands, so to speak, and so he passed the kitten off to Starsky. He, Larry, and RC had a good laugh at Starsky's expression when he picked up the soiled cat.
After Larry and RC left, Starsky and Hutch went to the restroom to wash their hands. Starsky had just rinsed the soap off his hands when he reached out toward Hutch. "Hutch…I don't feel so g.." and then fell to the floor. His body began to jerk in spasmodic movements. Hutch froze for a split second. He opened the door and yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Captain Dobey ran into the bathroom. Hutch was on the floor, trying to hold Starsky, trying to keep his head from banging into the tile floor repeatedly. Blood began to come out of Starsky's mouth and Hutch realized Starsky was biting his tongue. Dobey must have had the same thought. He left the restroom and returned with a ruler, which Hutch put between Starsky's teeth.
"Where the hell is that ambulance?" Hutch yelled.
"It's on the way, Hutch." Dobey reached out to put his hand on Hutch's shoulder.
Just as sudden as Starsky's seizure had started, it ended. He remained unconsciousness, blood and drool coming from the sides of his mouth. Hutch sat on the floor and placed Starsky's head in his lap. He began to weave his fingers through Starsky's curls.
A small crowd had gathered outside the bathroom. Dobey told them all to leave with the exception of Ted Conley, a seasoned detective who worked occasionally with Starsky and Hutch. Dobey told Ted to go wait for the medics and bring them to the restroom as soon as they arrived.
Six minutes.
Seven minutes.
Eight minutes. Starsky moaned. Then he began to thrash again. Hutch put the ruler in his mouth and tried to cushion his head again.
Two paramedics Hutch recognized as Ryan Parkhurst and Megan Morris arrived and pushed Dobey aside. They asked Hutch to leave, which he refused to do. He did get up, though, and let them begin to work on his partner. The seizure abated and the medics put Starsky on the gurney. Hutch and Dobey followed them down to the ambulance. Just as they had Starsky loaded in the back of the ambulance, he began to seize again. Ryan told Hutch, "We're going to Memorial." He closed the door and the ambulance sped away.
Hutch and Dobey stood still for a moment, watching the ambulance. Hutch's mind was reeling. What in the world had caused this to happen? He was pulled from his thoughts by Dobey who tugged on his arm. "C'mon Hutch. Let's go to the hospital."
"Yeah," Hutch said, dazed, "Okay."
XXXXX
Dr. Joe Kellar rushed into the treatment room of the Memorial Hospital emergency room. "Whatcha got, Ryan?"
The medic spoke as he unlatched the restraints from the gurney. "Male, approximate age 30, BP 90/50, pulse 110, respirations 22. He went into convulsions approximately 30 minutes ago. He's had a total of three seizures. Don't know how long the first two lasted. The third one lasted about a minute. He doesn't respond to painful stimuli. He's becoming dyspneic."
Dr. Kellar gave orders for diazepam and a skull x-ray series, and then called the neurosurgeon on call, Dr. Kelly Brown.
XXXXX
Hutch was pacing in the waiting room as Dobey watched. It had been nearly an hour since Starsky had arrived at the emergency room.
"What's taking them so long? Why can't they just tell me what's going on?" Hutch asked.
"They'll be out here soon, you'll see. Why don't you get some coffee or something?" Dobey knew the answer before he asked the question.
"I'm not leaving here until I hear from the doctors."
Drs. Kellar and Brown came into the waiting room. Dr. Kellar spoke first. "Are you here for David Starsky?"
Hutch walked briskly to the doctors, Dobey right behind him. "Yeah. I'm Detective Ken Hutchinson. This is our captain, Harold Dobey. Detective Starsky is my partner. How is he?"
Dr. Kellar motioned to the chairs in the room. "Why don't we sit down?"
"Why don't you just tell me what's going on?" Hutch demanded.
Dobey put his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Calm down, Son. Let the man talk."
Dr. Kellar continued. "Detective Starsky is still unresponsive. He has a subdural hematoma – bleeding on the brain. Why, we don't know. We're treating it with medications, but if we don't see a drastic improvement, we'll have to drill a small hole in his skull to relieve the pressure and allow the hematoma to drain. We've got him on anticonvulsants. Also, he aspirated during the last seizure, so we're going to monitor him closely for pneumonia. We've started him on antibiotics. We've not had to intubate him and we're hopeful that he'll continue breathing on his own. Has he suffered a head injury or any kind lately? Suffered a fall? Anything that you can think of?"
Hutch shook his head. "No, nothing recently. Not that I'm aware of. He was shot in the back a few months ago and a bullet grazed his head, but he's recovered from that."
Dr. Brown spoke. "If you happen to think of anything, let us know. For now, all we can do is watch and wait. I wish I could tell you more."
"Can I see him?" Hutch asked.
"He's being transferred to ICU right now," said Dr. Brown. "Let us get him settled, and then I'll see to it that you get to see him. I'm going to go over his films again. I'll keep you posted on what I find out." Dr. Brown reached out and shook hands with Hutch, then Dobey. He turned and walked out of the waiting room.
Dr. Kellar extended his hand to Hutch, then Dobey, as well. "Don't give up on him. When you see him, let him know you're there. Don't be afraid to touch him. Talk to him. But know that he's got a long road ahead of him."
Hutch and Dobey watched the doctor leave, and then headed to the ICU.
XXXXXX
Hutch opened the door to Starsky's room, but hesitated. He took a deep breath, then stepped inside.
Starsky lay quietly in the bed, covers pulled up to his waist. He had IV's attached to his right arm. Hutch approached the bed, taking Starsky's left hand in his own. "Hey, Buddy. Time to wake up now. You really scared me this time, Buddy."
Flashes of Starsky convulsing on the bathroom floor went through Hutch's mind. He had to be missing something. Seizures don't just hit out of the blue. He tried to recall the events of the last few days. Larry. RC. They had been hunting for Larry. Starsky had been fine. His only complaint was that he was hungry. They had no trouble arresting the priest's right-hand man. They had learned that Larry was a matinee watching a western, and that the priest was going there to kill him. They had arrived at the theater…..Hutch took the front, Starsky took the back……
Hutch remembered seeing Starsky with his hand on top of his head looking dazed. He had asked if Starsky was okay and Starsky had said he was. They went into the theater and were finally able to arrest the priest. The ride to the station had been uneventful. That night, Starsky did complain of a headache, but he took some aspirin and seemed to be fine. He had eaten his "feast" with no problems. That was two days ago.
They had spent yesterday catching up on paper work. It had actually been a relatively quiet day.
Dr. Brown entered the room and pulled Hutch out of his thoughts. Dr. Brown checked Starsky's pupils, listened to his breathing, and did other cursory exams. When he was finished, he picked up Starsky's chart and began to notate his findings.
Hutch walked up to Dr. Brown. "I think I may know what happened to Starsky. Two days ago we were on a case and I think he was knocked down. I didn't see it happen, but I did see him holding his head. That night he had a headache, but he said aspirin took care of it. He was acting fine. I just thought you should know."
Dr. Brown nodded. "Yes, we figured something like that must have happened. His pupils are equal, which is an excellent sign. His reflexes are intact. The anticonvulsants are working. We'll keep monitoring him."
"Doctor, how long will he be out?" Hutch asked nervously.
"We're not really sure. Obviously he is heavily sedated right now. Hopefully as those begin to wear off, he'll start to come around." Dr. Brown turned to leave. "Oh, I've left orders that you can stay with him. Your captain was quite persuasive. He told me that Detective Starsky's odds of recovery would greatly increase if you were allowed to stay. Just promise you'll eat and get some rest. If you don't, I'll have you reduced to visiting hours only, got it?"
Hutch smiled. "Got it. Thanks, Doc."
Dr. Brown left to confer with one of the nurses. Hutch returned to Starsky's side. He pulled a green plastic chair to the bedside and sat down to begin his vigil.
XXXXXX
Hutch had dozed off. He hadn't meant to, but the events of the day had finally caught up with him.
"H-h-hutch."
Hutch snapped his head and opened his eyes.
"H-h-hutch."
Hutch pushed up out of the chair and stood next to Starsky. He leaned down close so he could hear Starsky speak. "Yeah, Buddy, I'm here."
"H-h-hutch. M-m-my head hurts." Starsky spoke in a near-whisper, closing his eyes tightly, concentrating on forming each word.
"Hey, Buddy. You've had a head injury, but the doctors have fixed you up good as new. You'll be out of here in no time, okay?" Hutch put his hand in Starsky's.
"D-d-did they cut m-m-my hair?"
"No, Buddy. It's all there. Although, it is getting kind of long. I could trim it for you if you want." Hutch smiled.
"N-n-no w-w-way." Starsky offered up a patented half-grin.
"Listen, Buddy. We've all been waiting for you to wake up. I'm going to tell the nurse so she can let the doctor know, okay? I'll be right back." Hutch placed Starsky's hand back on the bed.
"Kay."
Hutch left the room and headed for the nurse's station. "David Starsky is awake. I know Dr. Brown wanted to be notified."
"Thank you, Detective. We'll call him right away."
Hutch went back to his partner's room. He was concerned over the fact that Starsky was having difficulty talking. It was as if he had to concentrate just to say each word. Maybe it was just a side effect of the subdural hematoma or the medications.
Starsky had drifted off to sleep by the time Dr. Brown entered the room. Dr. Brown approached the bed and called out to Starsky. "Detective, I need you to wake up for me."
Starsky moaned and opened his eyes halfway.
"That's it. Wake up for me. Do you know where you are?" asked Dr. Brown.
"H-h-hospital."
"That's right. Do you know your name?"
"D-d-dave Starsky."
"Very good. Do you know the date?"
"N-n-nicki."
Hutch laughed. "That's the last date he went on….he went bowling with a girl named Nicki."
Dr. Brown smiled. "I meant the month and year, but I guess we'll go by his definition of date."
Dr. Brown continued his examination as Hutch stood against the wall observing.
"Okay, Detective, I'm through poking you for now."
"Call m-m-me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. I think that will do it for now. Do you have any questions?"
"Why c-c-can't I talk?" Starsky asked.
Hutch walked over to Starsky's side, anxious for the answer.
Dr. Brown pinched the bridge of his nose, then stuffed his hand in his coat pocket. "I believe you're suffering from a form of aphasia. It's a side effect of the head injury. You've suffered some damage to the frontal lobe of the brain, which controls the speech functions. All our tests indicate that the damage wasn't massive, but obviously there was enough to cause your speech to be affected. Your other motor functions are good, though, and that's a positive sign. I'll get you set up with a speech therapist. We'll do some more tests and I'll let you know more at that time. Any more questions?"
"W-w-want to g-g-go home."
"I know you want to go home Dave. I'm going to have you moved out of ICU to a regular room. We'll monitor you for another 24-48 hours, and if all goes well, then I'll send you home."
"K-k-kay." Starsky sighed.
Dr. Brown put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "I know this is frustrating for you Dave. But you're going to get through this. Now, I've got more rounds to make, but I'll be checking on you later."
Starsky and Hutch watched as Dr. Brown left the room. Hutch spoke first.
"He's right, you know. You'll make it through this. You'll be back to talking my ear off before you know it." Hutch smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Starsky sighed.
"G-g-gonna sleep." Starsky closed his eyes.
Hutch tucked the covers around his partner, then patted his arm. "Okay, Buddy. You sleep. I'm going to call Huggy and Dobey, and get cleaned up. I'll see ya soon." Hutch left the room, glancing over his shoulder before he left.
XXXXX
Hutch walked into his cottage and picked up the phone. He called Huggy and Dobey and told them about Starsky's condition and the aphasia. He put his hand in his jacket pocket and felt the earplugs. Just 24 hours ago he had been teasing Starsky about needing earplugs to tune him out. And now his partner may never speak clearly again.
Hutch left the earplugs in his jacket, then draped it across his bed. He took a quick shower and put on some fresh clothes. He stopped by the toy store before heading back to the hospital. By the time he arrived, Starsky had been moved to a private room. Hutch entered Starsky's room with a box wrapped in red wrapping paper with a white bow.
"Hey Buddy, I brought you something." Hutch placed the box on Starsky's lap. He expected to see Starsky's eyes light up as he tore into the paper like a child. Instead, Starsky just stared at the box, then looked up at Hutch.
"Go ahead, Starsk. You can open it. You'll like it, I promise." Hutch coaxed.
Starsky hesitated. Then he picked up the box and pulled off the bow. He tore off the paper and inspected the box.
"It's a model kit. A Torino. I thought it'd give you something to do while you're stuck in here. Look, I even got red and white paint so you can customize it like your tomato if you want." He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.
"N-n-nice. Th-th-thanks." Starsky looked at the box. Suddenly, he slammed his hand on the bed rail, wincing as it made contact.
Hutch took Starsky's hand in his. "Starsk, I know you're frustrated. But this is just temporary. You'll see."
There was a knock on the door, and Captain Dobey walked in carrying a box of chocolates. Hutch took the chocolates and placed them on the bedside table. "Thanks, Captain."
Dobey walked over to Starsky. "I'm glad to see you're doing better. You sure had us scared there for a while."
Starsky stared at a spot on the blanket.
Dobey continued, "I've given Hutch the rest of the week off. Then he can do desk duty until you're back. I know he won't go on the streets without you there to back him up."
"Thanks, Captain." Hutch said.
Starsky just continued to stare at the blanket.
"So, Starsky, is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?" Dobey asked.
Starsky didn't reply.
Hutch walked up to Dobey. "He's tired, Captain, that's all. We'll let you know what the doctors say after all the tests are run. I'll walk you out." He turned to Starsky. "I'll be right back, Starsk."
Starsky closed his eyes.
Hutch and Dobey walked out of the room.
"Okay, Hutchinson, tell me what's going on." Dobey said, concerned.
"He's really frustrated with the stuttering. I know he doesn't want you to hear him speak like that. He's going to see a speech therapist later so we'll have more answers then. We just have to be patient….a concept Starsky isn't too keen on."
"Okay, Hutch. Keep me posted and let me know if there's anything I can do for him. A quiet Starsky isn't something I want to get used to."
"Yeah, Captain. I know what you mean."
Dobey left and Hutch returned to Starsky's room.
"He's gone now, Starsk."
"Kay. Sleep n-n-now." Starsky closed his eyes and turned his head away from Hutch.
"Okay, Buddy. You rest. I'll be here when you wake up." Hutch said. He watched worriedly as his partner drifted off to sleep.
XXXXXX
The next 24 hours was relatively uneventful. Starsky had been evaluated by the speech pathologist, who then conferred with Dr. Brown. Starsky could speak in sentences of only three or four words, and that took much effort as he tried to form the words. He was unable to write and had trouble reading. Dr. Brown had explained that it was not uncommon for people with head injuries to suffer from transient aphasia, a temporary condition that could clear up within a matter of days. He told Starsky he could go home and if the aphasia had not corrected itself within two weeks, he would start speech and occupational therapy.
The ride to Starsky's apartment was a silent one. Hutch tried to make conversation a few times, but Starsky wouldn't reply. They finally arrived and Starsky got out of the car slowly. Hutch sprinted around the car and offered Starsky a hand. "You need help Buddy?"
Starsky shook his head no.
Upon entering the apartment, they were greeted by the smell of a Mexican feast. Huggy walked in from the kitchen. "Starsky, my man. I knew you'd be hungry so I made my Aunt Flo's famous burrito casserole. It's so good it'll make your toes curl."
Starsky smiled and sat down at the table. Seeing a stack of mail, he picked up the envelope on top and opened it. He unfolded the letter and stared at it. Then in one swift movement he stood up and knocked everything off the table. He slammed his fists onto the table. Hutch rushed to his side, putting his hand on Starsky's arm. Starsky pushed him aside and stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
"What was that all about?" Huggy asked.
Hutch sighed. "It's not only his speech that's affected. He can't read or write. God, Hug, what if the doctors are wrong and this is permanent? What then?"
Hutch sank into the chair.
"Hey, you can't think like that. You gotta believe. If you don't believe it, then you know Starsky won't believe it." Huggy returned to the kitchen, taking down plates and glasses, preparing to set the table. "Now go tell Curly to get his butt in here and eat."
Hutch smiled, pushing away from the table. He knocked on the door to Starsky's room. "Hey, Starsk, Huggy says to get your butt in here and eat."
Silence.
"C'mon Starsk. Huggy worked hard on this casserole. You don't have to say anything. Just come and eat."
The door slowly opened and Starsky stepped out. He paused, glancing up at Hutch. "S-s-sorry," he whispered.
Hutch placed his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "It's okay. There's nothing to be sorry about. Now, let's go eat."
XXXXX
Starsky refused to speak in front of anyone except Hutch, and even then he barely spoke. He had even refused to answer the phone at first. Hutch had returned to work, though, and insisted that Starsky answer the phone so that he could check on him. When the phone rang, Starsky merely picked up the receiver and put it to his ear, saying nothing. If it wasn't Hutch calling, the person on the other end would hang up after receiving no response. Hutch, however, would ask simple "yes and no" questions just to check on Starsky.
Starsky spent the days watching television and working on his model. He couldn't read the directions, but he'd work on models before so he had no trouble putting it together. Finally it was ready to paint. He laid newspapers on the table, a flash of frustration going through his mind as he looked at the print but could not read it. He sat the model on the papers, then prepared the paint. He was so engrossed in painting the model that when the phone rang it startled him, causing him to knock over the paint.
He stood up and took the phone off the hook, putting the receiver against his ear.
"Hey, Starsk. You doing okay?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Good. Dobey's cutting me loose early today, so what say we go to the beach this afternoon? I'll even spring for a chili dog!"
"K-k-kay."
"Well, I better finish up this report. I'll see you in a couple of hours."
Starsky hung up the phone and returned to the table.
Back at the office, Hutch heard the dial tone and sighed heavily. "Bye Starsk." He hung up the phone and began to type.
XXXXXXXX
Hutch entered Starsky's apartment without knocking. "Starsk, you ready to go? I've got chili dogs and root beer in the car." Hutch walked around the apartment. "Starsk?"
Hutch entered the kitchen and saw the spilled paint on the table. He wouldn't…
Hutch ran outside, searching for his partner. Think Hutchinson, think. Hutch traced the buildings around Starsky's neighborhood in his mind. There was a hardware store four blocks away. Hutch ran down the stairs and got into his car. He drove to the hardware store, looking for Starsky along the way, but there was no sign of him.
Hutch parked the car and went into the store. He approached the clerk at the counter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend, Dave Starsky. Do you know him?"
The teenager smiled up at Hutch. "Yeah, I know him. Wish I knew him better as a matter of fact." She giggled, tossing her long blonde hair aside with a flick of her hand. "You just missed him. He left about 10 minutes ago. Bought a little can of red paint and left."
"Thank you," Hutch turned and walked briskly back to his car. Dammit Starsky, where are you? He got back in his car and drove back to Starsky's apartment. The clerk had said he left 10 minutes ago….he should have seen him on his way to the store. Hutch checked Starsky's apartment one more time. Still empty.
He got back in his car and drove slowly along the route to the store. Then he saw it. A black and white puppy with cans tied to its tail, sitting on the porch of an old house, the sign out front saying "Condemned Property. Keep Out." Starsky can't read. And he'd never leave a puppy like that.
Hutch felt his stomach knot up. He carefully approached the house and walked slowly up the steps. The puppy whimpered and ran to him, dragging the cans behind him. Hutch absently untied the string holding the cans, and the puppy scampered off. Hutch scanned the porch. There to the right was a hole about 3 feet in diameter. Hutch walked carefully, the boards creaking under his feet. He peered into the hole and saw Starsky lying unconscious about eight feet below. Fighting his impulse to jump down and be with his partner, Hutch carefully made his way off the porch to his car and radioed for help.
XXXXXXX
Dr. Brown entered the waiting room and approached Hutch, who was pacing back and forth. "Detective Hutchinson."
"Dr. Brown. How is he?"
Dr. Brown smiled, "He's fine. We're going to keep him overnight for observation, but he can go home tomorrow. He's in room 205. You can see him if you'd like."
"Dr. Brown, what about his…" Hutch was cut off by the intercom overhead.
"Dr. Kelly Brown. Call extension 4825. Dr. Kelly Brown. Call extension 4825."
"Well, I better go. I'll be making rounds later. I'll see you then." Dr. Brown hurried down the hall to the nurses' desk.
Hutch took the stairs to the second floor and approached Room 205. He slowly opened the door. Starsky was laying in bed, asleep, his cheeks flushed like a baby's in sleep. Hutch picked up Starsky's hand and put it in his own. Starsky began to rouse.
"Hey, Buddy, you awake?" Hutch asked, softly. "You gotta quit scaring me like this Starsk. I swear you take 10 years off my life every time you do something like this. The way it stands now, I'm only 20!"
Hutch saw Starsky's lashes flutter, then his eyes opened. He smiled.
"Well, I've always liked young blondes." Starsky laughed.
"Yeah? Well, brunettes aren't my type. In fact—" Hutch stopped. "Hey, you're not stuttering."
"No shit Sherlock. You should be a detective."
Hutch grinned. "Boy, I never thought I'd say this, but I've missed hearing you talk."
Starsky smiled. "Really? Because I was watching this show the other day about animals. Did you know that a female ferret could die if she goes into heat but doesn't find a mate? And did you know that in 1916 an elephant was tried for murder? An elephant, Hutch. Can you imagine us bustin' an elephant for murder? And did you know elephants can't jump?"
Hutch dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the earplugs. He looked at the earplugs in his hand, then looked back to Starsky, who was now telling him about pink "hoppopidimus" sweat.
Hutch put the earplugs back in his pocket and pulled up a chair. It's good to have you back, Starsk.
The End