The Major Redemption
Chapter 10
The door to the laundry room flew open and the welcome figures of Alex Moore and Doctor Jackson cannoned into the room. Jackson was at once on his knees beside the wounded detective.
'Careful Doc. From what I understand, he's got a knife stuck in his back and it's attached to that piece of wood stickin' out underneath him'.
The doctor nodded his understanding and continued his preliminary examination. Although he noted the condition of the blonde's wrists and hands, he made more of the abdomen, gently pressing across the bruised and swollen flesh. Hutch's eyes flew open and he let out a strangled scream, sweat beading on his forehead. 'Hmm, sorry son, its going to be OK, just try to relax. Good, thats right. Looks like a ruptured spleen. We need to see to that immediately, otherwise his blood pressure will drop suddenly and we'll loose him'. He signalled to the two orderlies who had arrived with him. 'We need to get him up onto the stretcher now, but we mustn't dislodge the knife in his back. You take hold of his body; I'll steady the wood and knife. That'll have to come out in theatre'. The two orderlies, Starsky, Moore and the doctor all got into position. 'Can we all lift together please, on my count. One…..two….three and lift'.
The pain of the move, gentle as they all were, was more than the injured detective could bear and with a last gasp of pain, he thankfully lost consciousness.
As the stretcher was moved away, Starsky stared down at Hutch's blood pooled on the deck and knew he had to be the one to find the monster who had done this to his friend, anger welling inside him. He trotted by the side of the doctor as Hutch was moved swiftly into sick bay, Jackson darting to one side, giving orders to ready the operating theatre as he started his scrub routine. Starsky was once again by the blonde's side, holding the grossly swollen hand carefully and looking for signs of life. Finally he turned to the doctor.
'Can you give him anything to bring him round. I need to get a description of the man who did this to him'.
Jackson looked at him aghast. 'No, certainly not. Your friend needs emergency surgery now. To give him any drugs now would interfere with anaesthetic and his blood pressure which at the moment is a critical concern. You'll have to wait until afterwards, I'm afraid'. The doctor was not a cruel man. He realised just how much Hutch meant to the dark haired man, and said more gently 'You can remain with him until we take him into theatre, but after that, I suggest you go back to your cabin and get some rest – you've had a bad experience. I can give you some tranquillisers if you like, or something to make you sleep?'
Starsky smiled his thanks. 'No, no drugs Doc, I need to keep a clear head'. He paused before asking quietly 'Will he make it?'
'He's young and strong, but he's going to need a lot of luck to pull through this. From what I can see, the spleen is ruptured and needs to be removed. I'll check for damage to the liver as well. The wounds on his arm and chest will need to be cleaned and sutured, and I'll have to check his hands thoroughly to rule out any nerve damage. It's the knife I'm worried about. Getting it out without causing further damage will be difficult. He's going to need a blood transfusion. What type is he? Do you know?'
'A+, same as me'.
'Then we may need to borrow some of yours. I'll have the nurse check our stocks. Now' Jackson had completed his scrub and was being helped into a fresh green gown and gloves. 'Say goodbye to your friend, Mr Starsky and we'll take it from here'. He held up a hand as he saw the brunette start to speak. 'Go back to your cabin and wait. We'll let you know as soon as we're done, but its probably going to be another three or four hours'. He turned his back and disappeared into the theatre.
Starsky took one more look at Hutch, touched the pale face gently and bent over the body. Getting as close as he could, he whispered into the blonde's ear 'Hang in there Blintz. Ya can't leave me, you know that', then he backed away as the orderlies wheeled the body through the doors.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Following Alex Moore back up to his cabin, Starsky was overcome with a bone crushing weariness. He was worried for his partner and hated feeling like there was nothing he could do. All the times he had had to wait at Memorial whilst his friend was being treated he'd always had Huggy or Dobey there lending support. Hell, there had even been that lovely old lady in the wheelchair who'd got him chicken soup! Now he was on his own, with no familiar faces to help. He ached for the physical contact he was used to with the blond. just a pat on the back or a brush of the hand. he thought back to that laundry room. All he'd wanted to do was pick up the body and rock it, to sooth away the pain and the fear from those ice blue eyes.
They stopped outside his cabin. Alex looked back at the brunette, concern showing in his face. 'I'll be back in a minute. Just got to sign out, then I'll come and keep you company, OK'
Starsky nodded and opened the cabin door. He noticed that once again, it had been cleaned and tidied, and heard sounds from the tiny bathroom. Looking through the doorway, he acknowledged the cabin steward. 'Oh Hi Ivan. Thanks for that. Erm. You'll only need to make up one bunk tonight – Hutch is in the infirmary'.
The small Russian gave him a peculiar look and, thrusting his cleaning equipment into his trolley rushed out of the cabin. Starsky stared after him. OK. Was it something I said?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Throughout the rest of the day, Moore and Starsky sat in the cabin, a bottle of Scotch between them. Starsky told Moore of the history he and his partner had had. Of some of the escapades they had shared, although he barely touched on the events of the previous four months. Moore was impressed with the depth of commitment they obviously shared.
Starsky was on edge. He needed to be doing something. He needed to have something to occupy the empty hours that stretched before him until he had news of his partner. The time jangled him, an itch deep inside his stomach needing scratching. He had paced the small cabin constantly until Alex had told him he would get a tranquilliser himself if the brunette didn't sit down. That pacing wouldn't help Hutch and that Starsky needed to keep himself well and rested for the hunt for Hutch's attacker. The curly haired man saw the sense in Alex's words, but it made it no less difficult to sit and watch the clock.
Finally, the cabin telephone rang and Starsky's hand flew out, grasping it like it a drowning man would grasp a life preserver. He heard Jackson's voice on the other end.
'Dave? You can come down now. We've finished. I'll tell you everything when you get down here. He's made it so far, but he isn't out of the woods yet'.
The two men ran down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time as they made their way to sick bay. Starsky flung open the door and barged in, much to the surprise of a couple of passengers waiting for an early evening appointment.
Pushing past them, he entered the inner room just as the still unconscious body of his friend was being placed carefully in a bed against the far wall. He waited impatiently whilst Jackson and the nurses fussed around the bed, checking monitors, drip flows and oxygen rates, before Jackson beckoned him forward.
Starsky looked down at the pale form in the bed. Hutch's face was peaceful, the blond hair brushed back from his forehead. Seeing him like that, Starsky thought, not for the first time, that he looked like a little boy in a big man's body. Looking further he saw the drips going into the wrists of both hands, one for a clear fluid, one for blood. A BP cuff was wound round the right arm and an oxygen mask covered the mouth and nose. There were bandages all over the torso, the biggest of which covered almost all of the front of the body.
The doctor came to stand at the side of the bed. 'Your friend has been incredibly lucky', he said. 'I've had to remove his spleen, which had ruptured, and I've evacuated the blood. It was held contained in the sac that covers the spleen, so luckily there will be a lesser chance of infection from that at least. He'll have to be careful to avoid the flu or other infections now that his immune system is compromised. Fortunately his liver was not injured either by the blows he suffered to his stomach, or by the knife I managed to extract. That didn't hit any vital organs either. I've sutured the wounds on his chest and arm. Although the wound on his chest was deep, it should leave minimal scarring – I've used a continuous suture to help in that respect.
As for the wound on his arm, that was very deep – down to the bone in places. That, coupled with the injuries to his hands and wrists make it difficult to assess whether there will be any lasting limitations to movement and sensation. You'll have to see a neurologist when we dock in Bridgetown tomorrow. As regards his prognosis, if he makes it through the next 24 hours, he should make a full recovery. I've given him five units of blood so far. I expect to give him another two after this, so I'll need to take some from you to replenish our stocks if I may'.
Starsky nodded absently, concentrating on the blond in front of him. Gently he touched the forehead, making small stroking movements, before bringing his own bandaged hand down to take hold of his friend's.
'Hutch, can you hear me?' he whispered.
'I'm afraid he'll be out cold till tomorrow' the doctor explained.
'I don't think you understand', Starsky said. 'If I can't get to speak to him now, tomorrow'll be too late. As soon as we dock, his attacker will take off and I'll never find him'. He looked to the doctor with pleading eyes. 'Ya gotta give him something to wake him up, if only for a few minutes. Please'.
Jackson hesitated. 'I don't think you realise how much you will compromise his position if I give him a stimulant now, or how much pain he'll be in whilst he's awake'.
Starsky swallowed, weighing up the options. What you want Blondie? Do I ask the Doc to wake you, knowing its gonna hurt ya? And am I goin' after this guy for you, coz you'd do the same thing if I was in your position. Or am I doin' this to make me feel better, to make up for what I did to ya? Help me, please. He waited a moment. Gathering himself and trusting his instinct he made a decision.
'Its what he'd want me to do, Doc. Give him the smallest dose you can, I just need to speak to him for a couple of minutes, then I'll leave, I promise'.
Jackson looked unconvinced, but seeing the steely glint in the brunette's dark blue eyes, he realised argument would be pointless. He crossed to the drug cupboard and pulled a small amount of a drug into a syringe. Coming back to the bed he explained. 'When I give him this, he'll be conscious for perhaps five minutes. How much sense he will make I don't know. And for the record, I don't approve'.
Starsky nodded and took hold once again of the blonde's hand as he watched the doctor push the drug into the port on the side of Hutch's drip. He waited a moment, not really knowing what to expect, but bracing himself for the pain he would necessarily inflict on his partner.
A few minutes passed, which seemed to the brunette like hours. Eventually Hutch gave a low moan and his head moved a little on the pillow. Starsky was immediately there, murmuring comforting words as he leaned down low, next the taller man.
'Hutch, can you hear me? Hutch, I need you to open your eyes buddy'.
The head moved a little more and a grimace of pain appeared on the once peaceful features. Starsky swallowed and tried again a little louder.
'Hey Blintz, wakey wakey. I need you to open your eyes, Blondie'. He was rewarded with a tiny view of ice blue as Hutch cracked his eyes open a little, gasping in pain. 'Starsk?' he whispered then bit back a moan. '…..hurts'.
Quickly Starsky leaned closer. 'Sorry Blintz, I know it hurts, but it's only for a minute then ya can go back to sleep. You're safe in the hospital now but I need your help buddy. Can ya tell me who did this? Did you see 'em. How many? A description, a name?'
Hutch moaned again and licked his dry lips, his head moving from side to side on the pillow, his hair taking on a darker golden hue as he started to sweat. 'Name?' he whispered.
Starsky became more persistent, knowing each extra minute hurt his partner more.
'Hutch' he said louder. 'Did ya get a name. A name, Hutch?'
'Yeah, name'.
Starsky knew how far he could push his partner. That sometimes Hutch responded more to a sharp command, like when he had been hooked on the heroin, Feeling like a complete bastard, he tried one last time. 'OK Hutchinson, the name, now. Come on Blintz, tell me' he was almost shouting'.
Hutch cracked pain filled eyes open a little more and a shadow of a smile played over his features. 'An' you say I sound like d Dobey when I shout?' he gasped, a spasm making him writhe on the bed. Finally he relaxed a little and motioned the brunette closer. 'Ivan. He s said I w was German'.
Starsky looked unbelievingly. 'What, Ivan the cabin steward?'
Hutch had just enough left in him to nod and whisper 'Ya got a lousy b bedside m manner' before sleep overtook him.