Chapter 8

Some time later, Starsky awoke stiffly and slowly. His hand had cramped around Hutch's middle as, even in his sleep, he'd managed to hold onto his partner's side. Now as he moved it he realised it was stiff and caked in his partner's life force and he felt the unwelcome panic start deep in his stomach. As he shook himself awake he looked around at the devastation in the small room and at the body of the still unconscious Richardson lying trussed like a turkey with Hutch's belt around his hands. He was just wondering why none of this seemed particularly familiar when the thought struck him – he could see!

Slowly, so as not to disturb anything that might be healing, and not wanting the darkness to envelop him again, he turned his head from side to side. Yes, he could definitely see. Things were a little fuzzy around the edges, but this was such a vast improvement. His head still felt as though it was going to explode and he still felt nauseous, but all that paled into insignificance with the renewed view he now had on the world.

Carefully he looked down at his still unconscious partner and gasped. The whole of the left hand side of Hutch's pale shirt and jeans was a sodden mass of blood. Starsky could only guess at how much the blond had actually lost and it didn't need a lot of medical training to know that it wasn't good. He needed to wake his bleeding partner and move him so that he could at least get a bandage around his middle, if nothing else. He set about trying to revive the flaxen haired cop. Hutch's face was pale and there were beads of cold sweat on his brow. His lips had taken on a faintly bluish colour and his breathing was shallow and rapid. Starsky cursed himself for having fallen asleep, but then realised that if he hadn't slept he might still be wandering round in a black, sightless world. He struggled to extricate his right hand from round his partner's back and began patting gently at Hutch's face.

'Hutch, wake up buddy' he said gently, but there was no response. He tried again.

'Earth to the Blintz, this is no time for napping Blondie. I need ya to wake up for me' he patted a little harder and was rewarded with a low moan. Renewing his efforts, he tried again.

'Hey, Blondie, wakey wakey. C'mon, ya can do it. Just open those baby blues for me huh? That's it. Hey, there you are! How ya feeling?'

Hutch cracked his eyes open and looked up into the comforting indigo above him. Weakly he smiled. 'M'ok. Where are we? Ungh…hurts!' he grabbed for his dark haired partner's hand and held on as the pain argued with him, then paused a moment letting the sensations die down. Opening his eyes again and seeing Starsky looking straight at him he asked 'Starsk? ….Can you see?'

'Yup. I had some pains in my noddle an' flashes in my eyes and then I had a little sleep an' when I woke up it was all coming back. But enough of that. Why didn't you tell me you were so badly hurt? God Hutch, I could have done somethin'

'Didn't want….to upset ya' Hutch panted. The pains in his side now radiated around his front and back and he felt hot and cold both at the same time. He was shivering and sweating and he felt sick and dizzy. He knew he was lapsing into shock and the still lucid part of his mind told him he had to do something about it now. His body, however, told him to stay still and he tried hard to move his arm to lever himself up.

'Where ya goin' now?' Starsky asked, feeling his partner trying to move.

'Need to stop…bleeding' Hutch mumbled. 'Need t' get up….see if bullet went ….all the way through'.

The brunette understood what his partner was trying to say. Gently he shuffled out from the side of his friend and stood carefully, swaying slightly till he got his balance. Slowly he reached down and took hold of the flaxen haired cop under his arms, lifting him upwards with a struggle. With a deep groan of pain, Hutch managed to get his legs under him and leaning heavily on his smaller friend, staggered to the side of the medical table. Propping himself up against it, he waited panting as Starsky carefully moved his shirt, not really wanting to look at the hole in his side. Gently the brunette pushed the blood soaked material out of the way and bit back a gasp as he got a first look at the damage Hutch had sustained. The bullet had left a large ragged hole in the blonde's side, about a dime's diameter across and halfway between his hip and his ribs. It didn't look as though it had hit anything major internally as it was on the periphery of his stomach area, but despite the valiant efforts to stem the flow, it was still bleeding. Looking around the back, however, Starsky saw only whole skin, no exit wound being apparent.

As calmly as he could, he said 'Well, I think the slugs still inside. What ya wanna do now?'

Hutch groaned again, scrwwing his eyes up as he tried to concentrate past the fog that was threatening to cloud his mind. He leaned heavily on his partner. 'Not good' he gasped. 'Can't stop….bleeding if it's in there….Need to get it out'.

Starsky swallowed hard. 'What ya sayin there pal?' he asked, fairly certain he knew what was coming, but willing to try any other alternative first.

'Gonna have….to get it out' Hutch ground out as he rode another crest of pain. 'Oh shit!...Gotta lie down'.

The brunette helped his partner get up onto the table and eased him down till he was lying on his back, his left leg bent up to reduce the pull on his side.

Starsky tried to stow his fear deep inside as he looked at his friend knowing something would have to be done quickly. 'Ah…Ok, tell me what we need here'. If Hutch had been looking he'd have seen the smaller man pale at the thoughts of what he might have to do.

'Can ya reach….cupboards?'

Starsky reached out his right hand, his left hand still being manacled to Hutch's right. At full reach he could just reach the contents of two of the cupboards.

'Yeah. What d'we need?'

'Gauze pads….bandages…..forceps'.

'What's forceps?' the curly haired cop said panicking as he saw the myriad contents on the shelves.

Hutch screwed his eyes up against the pain, panting. 'Like….long metal scissors things'.

Starsky reached for a pair and showed them to the supine detective. 'These?'

'Yeah…..got everything?'

The brunette let out a steadying breath. 'Think so. What d'ya want me to do now?'

'First ya gotta…clean around….wound. Then take….forceps 'n'…push 'em in….feel for the slug…..pull it out. Pack hole….Bleeding…..should stop. The long explanation took it out of the blond and his eyes closed as he groaned deeply, clutching his hand to his side again, trying desperately to quell the fire licking at his guts.

Starsky saw the eyes closing. 'Hutch, stay with me buddy. Hutch, c'mon now. Ya gotta tell me what to do. No time to sleep Blintz. Can't do this on my own' he tried to keep the edge of panic out of his voice as he looked again at the bloody wound.

With a struggle the blond detective opened his eyes a crack. 'M'ok…Not goin' anywhere' he mumbled.

Taking a deep breath the curly haired cop took some of the gauze pads from the vast pile he'd gotten out of the cupboard. He soaked them in water and as gently as he could he started to clean round the wound, trying to get as much blood off as possible so that he could have a clear view. The sight of the wound sickened him, even though he was not usually squeamish. Just the thought of his friend's body being ravaged by a single piece of metal like this made his mind reel. As he continued to dab at the gaping hole, Hutch tried his best not to make a sound. He knew it was hard for his partner to have to do this. Starsky was never the best around sickness and he bit back a lot of the gasps, trying to make it easier for the brunette. Eventually though he realised he couldn't take much more.

'Enough' he muttered trying to grab hold of his "doctor's" hands. 'Enough already! Just get…. damned thing out will ya?'

This was the part of the proceedings that made Starsky cold to think about. Gingerly he picked up the shiny metal forceps, examining them closely. They were long bladed and had a locking mechanism at one end. He carefully unlocked them and looked at his sweating partner, the instrument hovering over the wound.

'Hutch, are you sure about this? Isn't there another way?' he pleaded.

'Needs to come out…..then it'll stop' Hutch mumbled, fighting to keep conscious long enough to aid his friend through this.

But Starsky still needed some convincing. 'It's gonna hurt like hell, Blintz' he said, still trying to think of alternatives.

Hutch's mouth turned up in a shadow of a smile. 'Already hurts like hell' he said. 'For Gods sake, just do it'. He closed his eyes and prepared himself.

Slowly, Starsky started to push the cold metal into the wound, trying hard not to think about what he was doing to his friend. If there had just been any other way, but the blond was adamant. The sweat started to run down the sides of Hutch's flushed face now as he bit his lip in an attempt to keep quiet. He felt like his insides were being ripped apart and although he knew the metal of the forceps was cold, it felt like his partner was thrusting a white hot metal skewer into his guts.

Starsky closed his eyes, concentrating on the feelings through the metal. He didn't know how deep he'd pushed the forceps into the wound, but suddenly he felt their tips touch something hard. As carefully as he could, he widened their teeth and tried to get hold of the bullet to pull it out, but the metal was wet and felt like it was being kept there by a powerful suction. As he pulled the forceps away, he lost his hold on the bullet and the instrument came away empty.

As the metal cleared his side, Hutch could no longer contain the pain and screamed loudly, his hands balling into fists at his side as he tried to control the agony. He panted heavily, groaning. 'Ya got it?' he whimpered desperately.

'Oh God, no. I'm sorry Hutch…oh shit I'm sorry'. Starsky hated what he'd done to his partner. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost as breathless as the man laid in front of him.

'I can't do this, I'm hurting you too much buddy. There must be some other way, I'm no doctor, this is your department'. He bowed his head in frustration, feeling foolish and angry. As he closed his eyes he felt a gentle pressure on his hand and looked up.

'Try again' Hutch rasped, his voice sounding raw and sore.

'I can't Hutch. I'm hurting you too much' Starsky pleaded, wishing he could somehow find the ability to help his injured partner.

But Hutch was shaking his head feebly. 'Gotta try….again….no other way…..For me?' With an effort he opened his pain filled eyes and locked them with the stormy indigo blue ones, giving just a little comfort. He knew this was hurting Starsky almost as much as the bullet was hurting him. He saw his partner flinch, then straighten, new resolve in those unsettled eyes. Again, he braced himself and waited.

Starsky took a firmer hold on the forceps and once more pushed them into the ragged bloody hole. Now he knew approximately where the bullet had lodged and what to feel for, he located it much quicker. Again, as he felt the tip of the forceps brush against the foreign object, he widened the teeth of the instrument, feeling them bite the bullet and hanging on for all he was worth, he pulled against the suction. It was almost like pulling a cork from a bottle. There was a long moment of resistance, then suddenly the suction was broken and the forceps came away, carrying the bloody piece of deformed metal with them.

As the brunette put down the forceps with a shaky hand, Hutch gave a last groan and blessedly passed out. Starsky carried out the rest of the operation quickly, packing the gaping wound with gauze before taping it in place and winding layer upon layer of white bandage as tightly as he could around his partner's limp midriff.

Finally happy with the results, he collapsed down onto the floor, his back against the leg of the table and one arm raised high in the air, still connected by the iron manacle to the sleeping man on the bed. He rested his weary head back against the leg of the table and closed his eyes, calming the breath that whistled through his teeth as if he'd run a marathon. If ever there was a day when David Starsky felt like he'd earned his pay check, it was that day, although he realised they still had a long way to go to be home and dry. Now all he could do was wait.