Chapter 2 – Two weeks ago

The room was quiet, as it had been for the week since its occupant had been brought in to lie quietly on the single bed. During that week, doctors and nurses had tended to the blond patient's every need. For the first couple of days, a machine had provided total life support. Gradually, that machine had been taken away, leaving only a ventilator to aid Hutch's damaged and compromised lungs and to give extra oxygen saturation to a body damaged almost fatally by two bullets.

One of the bullets had pierced the topmost vain entering the blond's heart. Blood had poured out onto his chest and he had stopped breathing four times in the ambulance on its journey from the fairground to Memorial hospital. The second had taken a chunk out of his left upper arm and that arm was strapped across his chest to provide some support. Both bullets had come from the most unlikely source ever – David Starsky's gun. What was even more staggering was that David Starsky had fired them…… and it had been no tragic mistake.

So for the first week, machines did the living for Ken Hutchinson while the big blond cop remained blissfully unaware of his circumstances. Some likened his injuries to those Starsky had himself suffered at the hands of James Gunther. Other more sensitive individuals refused to utter Starsky's and Hutch's names in the same sentence, feeling that for whatever reason, a friendship which had seemed so unshakably strong had been tragically ripped apart. Whatever had occurred, it seemed to those who knew them well that the powerful, dynamic and steadfast partnership that had been Starsky and Hutch had been dissolved permanently by the curly haired cop's actions.

The enforced rest, and Hutch's incredible physical fitness before the tragedy had however, worked miracles so that by the beginning of the second week in hospital, the blond cop was beginning to show signs of wanting to breathe on his own. So strong were those signs that after another two days, Hutch actually started to fight the ventilator and so the doctors took the decision to remove the hose from his throat and see how he managed. There were one or two false starts, during which the nurse with the ambubag had her work cut out forcing air into the blond's lungs, but then, after some coughing and spluttering, Hutch took the law firmly into his own hands and started to breathe on his own.

That day there was some muted celebration in the small hospital room. Captain Dobey, who had been very close to the hospital throughout the past 10 days made cautious telephone calls to Dr and Mrs Hutchinson to say that their son was showing signs of getting better and the two parents made an unprecedented visit to see their eldest child. Although Hutch was still unconscious, his Mom held his hand, awkwardly, to be sure, but she held it nonetheless and his Father did all the doctorly things and none of the fatherly things that would be expected. He spoke with the surgeons, conversed with the anaesthetists and patted his son calmly on the shoulder. Once the two senior Hutchinsons were convinced that Hutch would make it, they departed with a hasty kiss and promises to stay in touch, which neither of them had any intention of keeping.

During the days that followed, other visitors came and went. Dobey's wife, Edith brought flowers and a potted plant and their daughter Rosey, now a stunning girl of 16 came to sit by her honorary uncle and talk to him for a while. Huggy Bear could hardly keep away. His vigils late at night were a source of consternation for the nursing staff, but as the lanky black man pointed out, it was always during the night when sick people felt worse, and it seemed stupid to make them face the hours of darkness by themselves. Seeing the force of the argument, and seeing also that Hutch seemed to respond well to the bartender, the staff turned a blind eye to the visitor and got on with their duties.

On the morning of the ninth day, Hutch opened his eyes. They were unfocused and showed little recognition for a few seconds, but then he asked the inevitable in a weak and scratchy voice.

'Starsk?'

It had been Huggy's turn to visit and the old time friend had watched the blond get progressively more restless during the night. He knew that soon Hutch would wake and had been mentally preparing himself for the moment, knowing it would be tough on one half of the famous partnership. He stood and leaned lightly over the bed.

'Hey, Hutch my man. Good to see those baby blues again!'

The "baby blues" regarded Huggy calmly for a moment as Hutch processed the fact that soulful brown eyes met his and not the usual indigo blues.

'Heeeyyyyy' he managed to sigh, although talking seemed far too energetic an endeavour.

'Welcome back to the land of the living and breathing. You had us all worried for a while' Huggy pressed on.

'How…..long?'

'Over a week Blondie. That's one helluva lie in! I was beginning to think you were never gonna wake up.'

'I…. Starsk……where's Starsky?'

Huggy had dreaded this moment, but he knew it would come. A friendship so unshakable couldn't be dissolved like that, and in the past, their partner's name had been the first thing on their lips when either man had been hurt. This was just one more time when Hutch had more regards for his brunet partner than for himself.

'He's um….. he's gone away for a while. He's ok….he's fine. He's just…. He's not here' Huggy tailed off lamely.

'Noooo……Starsk…… not his ffffault' Hutch started to moan, his head rolling on the pillow as he closed his eyes in pain. Immediately, Huggy rang the bell for the nurse and in moments, the room was full of nursing staff and a couple of doctors.

By that time however, Hutch had managed to get himself into such a state that they had no alternative but to sedate him again and finally, he rested back, uneasily, his eyes fluttering as he tossed restlessly on the bed.

From that time on, each time the blond awoke it was the same. The first question on his lips was "where's Starsky?" and then he would become agitated to the point where it looked as though he may hurt himself at which time more sedatives were deployed. As he got stronger, the doctors became convinced that sedatives were not the way to go. Although it was easier to reason with the blond as he became stronger and more lucid, it was also more difficult to stop him from really hurting himself and once or twice he'd become so restless that the medics had had no alternative but to use soft medical restraints to anchor him to the bed to stop him from dislodging or tearing at his stitches.

By day thirteen, Dobey knew something had to be done and he made some phone calls to the 8th Battalion on the outskirts of the city. Fortunately, Lieutenant Colonel Tom (Traff) Trafford had just come back from South America and as soon as he'd heard what happened, he set off for Memorial hospital to visit with Hutch.

The tall dark haired soldier walked easily down the corridor and into the small private room, taking in the pale frame secured to the bed by broad leather, sheepskin lined straps with a sigh. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the hard plastic chair, waiting until the patient awoke naturally from his restless sleep. As Hutch took a deeper breath and opened his eyes to look around, he met Traff's emerald green eyes head on and the blond frowned.

'Traff! What're ya doin' here buddy?'

'I heard you needed a friend. I just wanted to call in and say hi.'

'Bullshit' Hutch spat weakly and closed his eyes.

'Well is that any way to talk to your friends? What's bullshit?'

'You bein' here. What did they tell ya? Hutch is bein' difficult. He's gonna hurt himself. Go an' see if ya can talk some sense into him.'

'Aww jeez! You overheard! They're worried for ya buddy, plain and simple. And I am too. You need to rest and get your strength back.'

'I need to find out where Starsky is. No-one will tell me. Every time I mention his name they clam up and go all broodin'. Traff, you won't lie to me. Where is he? Is he hurt? Is that why he hasn't been to see me? Is that why he aint here? I know he aint dead, I can feel it, but….'

Traff looked sadly at the blond. No wonder he was in such a state if no one had the guts to explain to him exactly what had gone on. The soldier took a deep breath.

'How much do you remember?'

'Enough. The fairground, that fuckin' guy. And Starsk. He had a gun an' he shot at me. It wasn't his fault.'

'That's not what he says Pal' Traff said quietly.

'Not what….you've seen him? Where is he? What do you mean it's not what he says?' Hutch's voice rose as he pulled ineffectually at the restraints round his wrists.

'No, I haven't seen him, but your Captain has, briefly. And from what he says, Starsky admits he…. Hutch, he says he meant to do it buddy. He says the shooting was no accident.'

'No, that's not true. Starsky would never do that. Why would he? We were…are partners. Why would he shoot me? Where is he? I need to see him.'

'You can't buddy, you need to get well.'

'Why can't I? C'mon Traff, you know the score, please. Just let me see him an' we can get back to normal an' I can get out of this hell hole.'

Traff looked pained and put a hand on Hutch's restrained right arm. 'Hutch I don't want ya gettin' riled up buddy. You can't see him. No-one can. He's um…..he's in Bay City Penitentiary. He's been there since the shooting.'

'The Pen! No…Shit no. Why? Lemme see him. Let me….oh fuck, Traff, noooo.' Hutch started struggling on the bed until Traff stood and took a hold of his thin frame, bodily hugging him until his struggles abated slightly. Hutch sagged against the soldier's shoulder, his head buried in Traff's uniform and although he was unable to hold his friend because of the medical restraints holding him down, he rested his forehead on Traff's shoulder, his own body shaking.

'It can't be' he whispered. 'It can't be….Starsky…..what did ya do buddy…..why?...why?'

'I can only tell ya what they've told me. I'm sorry Hutch' Traff said, reluctantly letting go of Hutch's shoulders and easing the man back down onto the bed.

'He's been there all the time? Why? What's he charged with?' the blond asked quietly.

Traff nodded. 'Yeah, he gave himself up right after he shot you. Even put the cuffs on himself. The um…..the charge is attempted murder.'

Hutch's face crumpled and he closed his eyes, shutting out the world for a moment until he could process the devastating information he'd just been given.

'He didn't do it on purpose, an' I'm gonna find out why. I have to…..I'm gonna deal with this Traff. Thanks….. for bein' so honest.'

'I just wish I could've given ya better news buddy, but I'm with you all the way. I'll help an' you're right. We are gonna get to the bottom of this.'

Eventually, exhausted by his emotions, Hutch slept while the curly headed soldier kept a watch over him. Traff wiped the sheen of perspiration from Hutch's forehead and unbuckled the restraints from round his wrists, knowing that the blond had reached a turning point and would no longer need them. As he watched over his friend, he wondered what would cause Starsky to act so completely out of character. What would cause him to turn in such a devastating fashion against Hutch, the man he'd sworn to protect like a brother? Although he wracked his brain, he came up empty. Some things just seemed to have no answers.

From that day forward, the blond had been calmer and had made great progress in his recovery, supported by Dobey, Huggy and Traff. The soldier had some leave coming to him and so he moved himself into Hutch's apartment with a view to looking after the blond and he visited every day until, 19 days after his admission, Hutch was released home with cautions to take it easy and come back for regular check ups.

Five days after his release, Hutch persuaded Traff to drive him over to the jail and he waited in trepidation in the visitors' hall to see his buddy. He remembered little of the actual shooting, knowing only that Starsky had acted oddly in the days leading up to it. The one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't blame Starsky in the slightest. Something devastating had happened to the brunet and he needed to know what it was.

As the door opened and his partner shuffled into the visiting hall, shackled and chained, Hutch's heart had missed a beat. He smiled and started to wave, expecting Starsky to want to talk. It was like an ice cold blade through his heart when the brunet took one look at him, turned on his heel and shuffled away without acknowledging him in any way.