Chapter 12

He'd died and gone to heaven. He was quite sure of that, although heaven proved to be a little damp and he tried to lift his hand up to wipe away the moisture on his face, refusing to open his eyes because to do so might mean that he was back in that godforsaken ruined hotel again and he knew he couldn't bear the thoughts of trying to get his injured partner from out of it.

Starsky flinched reflexively when he felt a hand on his arm, gently pushing his hand away, expecting guns and pain, but then a soft cloth smelling of clean soap and perfume took its place and he relaxed again. He'd never known a bad guy smell like that and was quite happy to go with the flow. Gently the cloth wiped his face, rasping gently at the two days growth of beard. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he cracked his left eye open a little squinting at the hand and following it up past a delicate wrist and lightly tanned forearm, onto the pale pink short sleeve of a uniform and finally landing on a pretty olive skinned face with hazel eyes. The owner of the eyes smiled down at him and he returned the smile with a lop sided slightly shy one of his own.

'Welcome back Detective' a soft husky voice said with just a hint of a French accent.

Starsky closed his eye again, now even more convinced he'd died and gone to heaven. Where else would a beautiful French Mademoiselle be giving him a bed bath? He sighed contentedly letting his body melt back against the soft mattress and opened both eyes wide.

Yup, she was still there, and she was smiling at him! His day was definitely taking a turn for the better. He licked his dry lips.

'Am I dead?' he asked, his voice rasping in his ears. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'Must be. This sort of thing don't usually happen to me' he smiled again.

The nurse giggled. 'I suppose you say zat to all ze girls' she said, finishing drying his face and starting next on his arms, running the cool damp cloth up and down his bare tanned skin. His body reacted to the tender ministrations and goose bumps blossomed down his spine. Bumps of a different sort blossomed further south and he wiggled slightly, trying to rearrange himself before the nurse noticed. He shivered slightly at her touch. Calming himself he tried to get his brain out of his trousers and establish exactly what had gone on while he'd been in the land of nod.

'How long have I been here? he asked, looking around him. To one side of the small hospital room, he saw a large window showing nothing more than a rapidly darkening sky outside. Turning the other way he was relieved to see the body of his partner asleep on his back in the bed next to him, the flaxen head resting comfortably on clean pillows, the face looking pale, but peaceful. He tried to sit up to get a better look.

'How is he?' he asked more earnestly.

The nurse glanced across at the blond. 'You 'ave been 'ere about seven hours and 'e is going to be fine. He's been to theatre and had ze 'ole in 'is side repaired and is sleeping comfortably' she explained pushing the brunette gently back onto the bed. 'And you must rest too. You 'ave ze concussion and eleven stitches in ze wound in your leg. Oh, and we got rid of ze manacles'.

Starsky suddenly realised he was no longer chained to his partner and looked at the bandage wrapped around his left wrist.

'How d'ya manage that?' he asked, feeling relief.

The nurse pulled a wry face. ''It was quite ze problem and ze doctor eventually had to call for ze maintenance men to come wiz zere big bolt cutters. It took zem quite some time!'

He chuckled. 'Yeah, I'll bet!'

Starsky rested his head back on the pillow and for a while enjoyed the ministrations of the little nurse. He felt sore, but the exhaustion had gone, to be replaced by just plane tired. His head had stopped aching again and he could only feel the gash on his brow when he wiggled his eyebrows – something he really didn't feel he had to do on a regular basis in any event. He could feel the wound on his left leg now and the pressure of bandages around it, but the pain was dull and fuzzy and he recognised the woolliness of pain killing medication. He saw the cannula in his right arm and resigned himself to the IV, wondering what the doctor's preoccupation with needles was all about.

After another quarter of an hour, the nurse had finished cleaning him up and he settled back on the bed, dressed in hospital issue pale blue scrubs, seeing his filthy and ruined clothes on a chair in the corner of the room. As the nurse had finished washing his arms, she progressed to his chest, soaping through the forest of hairs there and running her hand a little too familiarly over his muscles, then his stomach, but as he felt her hands go lower still, he'd bottled out and told her he was fine now thank you. She smiled again and handed him the draw string pants and the top, turning her back modestly as he struggled into them. Although his injuries were remarkably few, he ached all over and he presumed it was from the tension he'd felt over the past 24 hours. As he'd got back into the bed, she'd tidied around him and straightened his covers, checking his IV. Then she was gone, leaving him alone with his partner.

Starsky allowed himself the luxury of lying back and relaxing for an hour or so, his mind pleasantly numb from the drugs and his fatigue, his eyes half closed and his body comfortably warm and heavy, in that warm space where he was not quite waking and not quite sleeping. His reverie was finally interrupted when he heard sounds form his partner's bed.

Flipping the sheet back and grabbing the IV pole, he trundled it over to the flaxen haired cop's bedside. The head on the white pillow was just beginning to roll from side to side as slowly Hutch came back to consciousness. Starsky knew from bitter experience just how disconcerting it could be to pass out in one place and wake up somewhere entirely different, so he took hold of his friend's hand and bent forward to look into the blonde's face.

Slowly the eyes fluttered open and he got his first view of the ice blue beneath. The eyes were glazed and unfocussed and closed swiftly, blinking as Hutch became accustomed to the blue neon strip light behind his bed.

'Hey Blondie, welcome back' Starsky murmured, reaching up to smooth the silky blond hair from his partner's brow,

'Starsk?'

'Right here buddy'.

'Where?'

'In Memorial. You're fine. D'ya remember your argument with the bullet?'

Hutch closed his eyes and nodded slightly. He felt warm and comfortable although his side still felt as though a red hot metal skewer had been lodged in there. There was a vaguely peaceful feeling and he liked it. He felt like he'd been struggling to breath and move forever, but now that struggle was over. He moved experimentally and decided he wouldn't try it again any time soon., but it didn't really matter. He and Starsky were safe and together and that was all that mattered. He opened his eyes again.

'Starsk?'

'Hm'.

'You ok?'

A small chuckle. 'Yeah, I'm fine partner'.

'What happened?' Hutch asked, looking around the room and checking the IVs in his hands before his left hand went protectively to his side.

'Well after you went to sleep, I realised we had to get out, so Richardson kinda helped me an' here we are. Hey, You got any pain?' Starsky asked as he saw his partner's face crumple.

'Some…..don't go' Hutch mumbled.

'Only gonna call the nurse, buddy'.

'S'ok, just stay huh?'

'Whatever you say Blondie. Ya gonna go back to sleep?'

'Didn't think we'd make it' the blond mumbled.

'Yeah? Shows what faith ya have! Ya gotta trust Captain Marvel more 'n' that!' Starsky said fondly.

'Didn't think I'd make it…..saved my life'.

The brunette blushed, suddenly feeling ridiculously embarrassed. 'Only did what we always do' he muttered.

'What?'

'We watched each other's backs buddy. It was that "who do we trust" time and there was just Me 'n' Thee'.

'Starsk?'

'Yeah'.

'Where're the bad guys?'

'Richardson took off after we got here, I saw two of the goons dead in the hotel, but I didn't see McKay or Shepherd'.

The brunette saw the information sink in and the ice blue eyes closed a moment, then opened to look directly at him.

'Starsk?'

'S'me'.

'Thought I heard someone sound French?'

'Ah, that was just my little French nurse come to give me a bed bath! Starsky wiggled his eyebrows, then winced as he felt the cut again.

'Starsk?'

'What?'

'Can I have one too please?'

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Later that night Dobey came to see his two men and was relieved to see that Starsky was sitting up, in his usual place at his partner's bedside. The sleep he'd had enforced on his during the day had played havoc with his body clock and now the curly haired detective was wide awake and holding his sleeping friend's hand.

'How's he doing?' Dobey asked quietly as Starsky disengaged himself from the blond and moved away from the bed.

'He'll be ok. Bullets out an' he's had some blood to replace the stuff he lost'.

'An' you?' the Captain asked gruffly. There was no way he would ever apologise directly to his two favourite detectives for sending them into so much danger – it was just part of the job, but he felt bad nonetheless.

Starsky knew how his boss was feeling. He in return didn't expect an apology, accepting that some jobs were more dangerous than others. And who could anticipate an earthquake anyway? He smiled.

'I'm good. Just a few minors'. He looked at his watch. 'S a bit late for you, isn't it Cap?'

Dobey huffed. 'I erm…I just wanted to see how….' He coughed, trying to hide his concern.

Never one to pass up goading his Captain, Starsky patted the black mans' shoulder. 'That's ok Cap, we know ya love us really' he smiled, seeing the colour rise in his boss' cheeks.

Dobey motioned the brunette to the other side of the room. 'Do you know what happened to McKay and Shepherd? He asked, becoming more serious.

Starsky sat on the edge of his bed. 'No. Last time we saw 'em was before the 'quake hit. McKay had Shepherd, there were two other goons, who I saw dead in the hotel after, and a guy called Richardson who helped me get Hutch out. Why?'

Dobey twiddled his tie, looking uncomfortable. 'One of the traffic cops chased down a dark blue Lincoln he caught speeding through the city centre. Got out to give the driver a ticket and the guy drove off. Answered McKay's description and he had a small ginger haired passenger.

Starsky was already walking towards his street clothes.

'Where d'ya think you're going?' Dobey hissed

Stripping off the scrubs top and shouldering into his dirty tee shirt, Starsky paused.

'Gonna finish the job we started Cap. If McKay had Shepherd, there ain't gonna be any Ford trial. I'm gonna go 'n' find Shepherd an' bring him back. He looked in dismay at his jeans, now cut all the way up one leg, the other dirty and ripped.

'Look at my pants!' he gasped.