GOING BACK BUT MOVING FORWARD
Chapter One
Starsky had never been one for introspection – that was more Hutch's department – but the long nights in the hospital over the past few months had given him plenty of time to think about the shooting, the likelihood of making a full recovery, the length of time it would take to get back to normal as well as what had started to feel wrong both at work and between Hutch and him in the weeks leading up to the shooting. The conclusion he had come to was it was time for a few changes.
"What changes?" Starsky said in conversation with himself. "So glad you asked. Change numero uno is getting Hutch to sleep properly…in his own bed in his own house. Not here every night at the hospital."
For the first few weeks after the shooting, Starsky had been battling for his life: he was so weak from blood loss and his heart stopping that the road to recovery had been an uphill struggle and had been complicated by a wound infection that threatened his life all over again. For those hazardous first few weeks and the ones that followed on their heels, he hardly knew whether it was day time or night time. The only thing he did know was that, whenever he woke up for however brief or long a time it was, Hutch was there: sometimes pacing, sometimes sitting silently, sometimes passed out on the unused bed in the room, or more often than not sleeping in a chair pulled as close as he could get it to Starsky's bed.
As Starsky's body began to heal, Hutch reluctantly went back to work, doing a day shift then spending his evenings keeping Starsky company. Starsky got tired easily during those weeks, especially once he started physiotherapy to get the strength back in his wasted muscles. He would fall asleep during Hutch's visits, abruptly coming to in small snatches of consciousness in the middle of the night to find Hutch was still there.
When Starsky awoke in the morning, usually because of a nurse bringing in his first meds of the day, Hutch would greet him cheerily and then head off to work, via a quick change at his home, heading off at speed and therefore deliberately preventing Starsky from talking to him about his obvious need to still be there by his partner's side. Starsky looked down at the blond head resting face down on the edge of the bed and shook his head.
"Enough, buddy," he whispered. "That's enough."
He gently placed his hand on his partner's hair and stroked the golden wisps away from Hutch's cheek so he could see the edge of his face. Even in sleep, his face was lined with worry.
"Hutch?"
"Mmm," came the groggy, exhausted reply.
"Hutch?"
Hutch sat up abruptly. "Yeah, right here, buddy. Whatdda you need?"
Starsky was touched by the devotion in his friend's voice and swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat.
"Right now, buddy, I need you to get some sleep."
Hutch first looked confused then bemused. "You've got a funny way of going about it. You just woke me up!"
Starsky nodded. "I know I did but I did it so you could get some proper sleep."
Hutch shook his head at that piece of Starsky logic. "It's two a.m., Starsk, and it's too early for this sort of conversation! Besides, you're the one who should be getting some proper sleep."
"But I can't sleep 'cause I'm worried about ya," Starsky protested. "You can't keep sleeping in chairs."
Hutch chewed his bottom lip: the old familiar tell that told Starsky that he was anxious about something. Starsky moved over a little to the right of the bed and patted the space next to him.
"Come up here partner and tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
Hutch hesitated: torn between keeping his distance, which would make it easier to keep his irrational worries to himself; and enjoying the chance to be close to his partner. The desire to be physically close to his best friend won out and he slipped into the bed beside him.
"What's going on Hutch? Why don't you want to go home?"
Hutch tried to deflect the question: "Fed up with my company, are you?"
"Never buddy. You know that…but something's going on in that big beautiful blond head of yours…You've been here every day and every night since G-Gunther's goons shot me," Starsky's voice trembled a little as he said the name and he noticed Hutch winced. "I love ya being here babe. I love your company but you gotta get some rest."
Hutch sighed but didn't say anything so Starsky pressed on: "I'm going to get out of here in the next few weeks and, buddy, I'm probably going to be relying on you to get me through the first few days at home…I need you to be well and rested…and I know that sounds real selfish of me but it's not just 'cause I need ya, I'm worried about ya."
"I know you are," Hutch conceded.
"Why don't you want to go home?"
"It's not that I don't want to go home…I-It's that I don't want to leave here."
"Why?"
Hutch's voice cracked as he admitted, "Because the time I did leave, your heart stopped beating, Starsk."
"Aw buddy, that wasn't your fault. Just bad timing."
Hutch smiled a watery smile as he turned to look at Starsky and suddenly it was like a dam had been breached and the words just came rushing out in a huge outpouring. "I've been such a failure as a friend these last few months. I let you down, I let myself down. And when I was feeling really bad I forgot to talk to the one person who could help me feel better, I forgot to talk to you…it was like I forgot who I was and I lost who we were… I was hurting and I wanted to hurt everyone around me… and then the whole Kira thing…God, that was the lowest point of my life!"
Starsky wanted nothing more than to leap in and stop Hutch from beating himself up but figured it was better to let him get everything off his chest before he began to try and restore his friend's fragile self-image.
"We survived that experience Starsk but only just…and then, at last, I started to feel like me again. It felt like we'd remembered who we were. We'd put us back together and then…G-Gunther nearly took it all. I-I felt like my heart had been ripped out of me when I saw you lying there…I thought you were going to die…and what did I do? I failed again. You've always been there for me Starsk. Always. You'd never leave me alone…but I went out of the hospital. I ran away because I was only thinking about the pain I was in and your heart stopped…I-I can't seem to get past that."
Hutch fell silent as the flood finally slowed to a trickle.
"Aw babe, come here." Starsky pulled Hutch close and said quietly, "My heart didn't stop because you left…it stopped because of my injuries…I should have died by all accounts but I couldn't leave you buddy. And you're always there when it matters….you haven't failed me. Don't ever think that, you hear me!"
Hutch nodded. Starsky took in the exhausted slope of his shoulders, the lifeless hair and the pale skin of his partner.
"I think we need to talk some more about this but right now you need to get some sleep Hutch."
Hutch bit his lip again then whispered, "Starsk, I…"
"Hey, I'm not sending you away tonight babe. I just think you should stretch out on that empty bed and I'll lend you some of my pillows. Go on buddy, you need to sleep."
Wearily, Hutch climbed out of Starsky's bed and took the pillows he was offered. He placed them against the headboard then sat down on the edge of the mattress. He looked as if he could quite easily fall asleep sitting up.
"Take your shoes off Hutch and your jacket," Starsky instructed. "That's it. Lie down and pull the blankets up now."
Hutch was on autopilot, following Starsky's instructions without acknowledging them. He did what Starsky told him and crawled under the white sheet and green blanket.
"Night Hutch. Sleep well."
The mumbled response was probably meant to be a 'good night' but Starsky couldn't tell. Within seconds, Hutch was out for the count and Starsky smiled fondly at him. In his mind, he went back over some of the things Hutch had said. There was definitely more Starsky wanted to say on the subject to pull Hutch out of his self-imposed guilt trip. He desperately wanted to lift the burden of failure from his best friend's shoulders. He also wanted their friendship firmly built on an even stronger footing so it would never get disrupted again but for now it was enough that Hutch had talked to him; for now it was enough that his friend was sleeping.
"One step and one change at a time," Starsky reminded himself as he settled down to get a few hours' sleep himself.
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"And how are you today Detective Starsky?" enquired the Cardiac Head Nurse as she breezed into the room. A second later, she spotted Hutch asleep on the bed and dropped her voice to a whisper: "I'm glad to see Detective Hutchinson is finally getting some rest."
If her nurses could have seen the kind, indulgent smile on her face, they would have been surprised. Head Nurse Laura MacKenzie had a bit of a reputation as a gorgon but the two police detectives had got through her prickly outer shell and Starsky was on good enough terms with her to have started calling her 'Mac' and not have his head bitten off.
Starsky nodded and whispered back to her, "I'm going to try to get him to go home tonight Mac."
"That's good. If you need any back up, give me a call," she offered with a smile that was reflected in her hazel eyes.
The Head Nurse busied herself with checking Starsky's blood pressure, taking a cardiogram and changing over the last drip to which he was still attached. She had taken over most of Starsky's care, even the more menial procedures which less experienced nurses could quite easily have performed.
At first, it had been to relieve the poor younger nurses who were struggling with putting up with Starsky's temper. He was like quicksilver for a few weeks, quick to change mood, volatile: moods brought on by the obvious frustration at his slow progress. Only his partner could handle him on those days and sometimes even he struggled.
Everyone had hoped that his mood would improve once he was well enough to start physiotherapy but it had only proved to him how long he had to go in his recovery. That first day he had bitten the physiotherapist's head off and sworn at one of her nurses, who was just trying to help him back to his room. Mac had come in to reprimand him but had seen the unshed tears in his eyes and her heart had gone out to him: she had understood his unspoken fear that he might never get back to his former fitness and life. She'd decided then and there to take an interest in Detective Starsky and try to help encourage him where she could. Gradually, an unlikely friendship had developed between them.
In the last couple of weeks, his moods had slowly improved as he began to make better physical progress and now she was beginning to see what she assumed was the real Starsky: energetic, funny, kind and very charming but also guarded of anything to do with how he was feeling or coping with the aftermath of the shooting incident. The hospital and the Bay City Police Department had insisted on him having mandatory counselling. So far, from what Mac had heard on the grapevine, he had been wheeled to three sessions and had refused to speak to the counsellor. In some ways, Mac didn't blame him. The counsellor looks about twelve years old, Mac thought. What does he know about life? Is he likely to understand anything Dave tells him? Mac had given the matter some thought and had come up with a plan how she might facilitate another kind of counselling session.
Having finished her checks, Mac made some notes on Starsky's chart and placed it back on the hook at the end of the bed.
"It's nice to see you looking so bright-eyed this morning Detective Starsky. Only one more day with an IV. Won't be long until they move you off my ward and onto general."
"I feel like I'm making progress at last…and I keep telling ya, call me Dave."
"Can't do that. It would ruin my reputation as a dragon," Mac said softly.
Starsky smiled. "I won't tell anyone. Promise."
Mac smiled back. "Well…all right Dave. Now I have more patients I must see. I'll see you later."
"See ya."
The conversation, even as quiet as it was, had permeated Hutch's exhausted sleep and he began to stir. He stretched with a groan and opened his eyes.
"Morning sleepyhead," Starsky said.
"Morning," Hutch yawned. He sat up abruptly. "What time is it?"
"Hey, hey, don't panic. It's only seven-thirty. You got time for a drink before you go home to change," Starsky reassured him.
Hutch smiled knowingly. "The fact that you're suggesting I have a drink means you'd like one, I take it?"
"Thanks buddy, thought you'd never ask. Can I have a hot chocolate?"
"Sure." Hutch refrained from a lecture on hot chocolate before breakfast, knowing that Starsky was really craving coffee and wasn't allowed it yet. When he came back to the room, carrying a steaming cup, Starsky's breakfast had been delivered and he was digging into scrambled egg.
"Here, you have these Hutch," Starsky said through a mouthful of food. He handed his friend a glass of orange juice and a bowl of fresh fruit salad, before taking the hot chocolate and sipping it.
"You know Starsk, you're really supposed to eat some fruit to help with your fitness and recovery."
Starsky grimaced. "I promise I'll eat whatever they give me later but I can't, just can't, eat fruit for breakfast. I'm not a chimpanzee!"
Hutch raised an eyebrow at him. "And I am I suppose?"
Starsky nearly choked on the bite of toast he'd just taken then started giggling.
Hutch couldn't keep up his disapproving look and started giggling too.
"Ow, laughing hurts my stitches," Starsky gasped but it was some time before either of them could stop the giggling and Hutch was still smiling as he left to go to work.
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