Chapter 6

Hospitals are quiet places at 4.00 in the morning. Well, most places are quiet at that time, but Hutch knew more about hospitals than most other places. He had lost count of the times he sat in a similar room to this one, his back protesting the hard wooden chairs as he waited to see if his partner would be alright.

This room, like so many others was spartanly furnished. There was the bed, of course, lit softly by a light which hovered over the still form under the single sheet. There were the usual monitors, a bedside cabinet and his hard chair. Nothing else was needed. Even the colour was the same as every other damn room. That horrible sickly pale green that was supposed to be restful. There was nothing restful about it. It made him want to scream at it. Scream at all the walls and yell about the injustice of it all.

He heaved a sigh and looked back to the bed. An absence of real colour there too. A white bed with white sheets and a large white dressing covering the neck of the very pale patient.

Starsky had been brought back to the room about two hours ago. He'd had his wound closed in theatre and had been given two units of blood so far. It was the only spot of colour Hutch could find, and he watched the little ruby droplets as they passed through the drip's plastic chamber and chased each other down in a river to Starsky's left arm. He'd counted them as they fell, willing each jewel to make his friend well again.

The brunette lay deathly still and had not recovered consciousness so far. Hutch held his hand and talked to him a little, but, truth to tell, he really didn't know what to say. Things had changed. Once, he would have talked about work, or a meal they could look forward to, or what had happened during the day. But now, all he wanted to talk about was Ross and how his blood boiled when he thought about her. He rubbed his hand over his face, running his fingers through his golden blond hair for the millionth time that hour.

Getting up to stretch his legs and ease the kinks from his back, he looked over to the still form in the bed, and saw a slight movement. He was back there in an instant as cobalt blue eyes cracked open a little, then closed again.

'Hey, Starsk. Are you with me buddy?' he asked gently.

The eyes opened a little wider and a very weak, thin voice said 'Utch? …….where?'

'You're in hospital, Starsk. Do you remember what happened, huh?

There was a pause, as if the brunette was rerunning the events of the past day. 'Ross…………… knife……….hurts'.

'Ross isn't here, buddy. You've got a big old hole in your neck and you lost a lot of blood, but you're gonna be fine. I know it hurts, but I'm here. It's gonna be OK. I'm not leaving'.

The eyes opened again and searched his face. 'Ross…..not her fault……didn't mean……'

Hutch turned away, unsure if he could stop himself from saying something he might later regret. Swallowing hard, he faced his partner again. 'Hey, Gordo. We can talk about that later, when you're not hurtin' as much. Just go ahead an' sleep a bit now. Ya need all the beauty sleep you can get, ya know'.

There was a slight smile on Starsky's face. 'Only jealous……never be 's good lookin' 's me'. He paused, the exertion of talking taking its toll on him. 'Utch?... Glad you're…….'ere……………….Don't go'.

'Aint goin' anywhere partner' the blond said, taking hold of the smaller man's hand and sitting down to continue his vigil.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Throughout the rest of the night, Starsky had tossed and turned fighting the effects of the pain killers. Occasionally his eyes would fly open for a moment, then he would sink back into sleep. Once, he shouted Ross' name, a strangled, rasping shout that tugged at Hutch's heart strings. He was there immediately, stroking the sweating forehead and pushing the curls back, allowing his fingers to tangle in the mahogany hair. He glared at the black eye and the bruises that were visible on his partner's chest, hatred for the woman who'd caused them growing hour by hour.

Hutch himself had little sleep even though his leg was giving him hell and his body longed to close down for a few hours. But his mind was still active, rerunning again and again the events of the last few days, always wondering if there was something he could have done or said to stop this happening. He felt somehow responsible for this, but couldn't logically work out why he should feel like that. He knew one thing. If he was so confused about the whole thing, he knew his partner would be screwed as hell. He sighed, knowing the coming weeks would not be easy.

He drifted off to sleep about 7.00 in the morning, and when the nurse came in to check on Starsky, she found the blonde's head resting on her patient's bed, the brunette's hand resting gently on it. She tried to work round him, knowing he'd been there all night. She thought she remembered them from a previous stay in hospital, and admired the way the two men watched each others backs. As she hung a new unit of blood, the final in a series of four, her hip jostled the bed and Hutch was immediately awake. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She asked him if he wanted a drink and brought him a black coffee.

Whether it was the smell of the powerful brew, or the movement in the room, Starsky woke from his sleep. He looked around, gasping as the movement pulled at the stitches and dressing on his neck. Seeing Hutch there, he swallowed and licked his dry lips.

'Hey blondie' he rasped. 'How ya doin?'

Hutch sat on the edge of the bed so that Starsky didn't have to move his head too much. 'I could ask you the same question' he said softly. 'Ya had us all worried for a while there, Gordo'.

The slight smile that had played on the brunette's lips faded. 'Sorry Hutch….. a bit worried myself for a while…… Didn't think I could get so much blood on the floor and still be alive'. He looked away shyly. He knew he would eventually have to talk about what had gone on, but didn't feel he had the strength to at that moment. He was just so very glad that Hutch was there, once again looking after him.

'You want to tell me about it?' Hutch asked calmly

The brunette closed his eyes, shutting out the look of compassion on his partner's face. He was embarrassed at what had happened. He knew he should have stopped it and fought back, but this was Ross, the woman he loved. And she'd told him so many times that she loved him too. So he'd just stood and taken the punishment again, not realising she had the knife.

'I can't Hutch. Not right now………too tired' he exaggerated his tiredness a little, and Hutch let it go, knowing now was not the time to push.

As he saw the eyelids slide shut, the thick black lashes like dark smudges against the pale skin he thought No, not now, buddy, but soon. It'll have to be soon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

During the afternoon, Starsky awoke properly, the effects of all the pain meds finally working their way out of his system. He felt warm and tired. He couldn't express his gratitude to his partner for being there, Knowing the argument they had had the previous day (God, was it only a day ago?). He was just so happy to have the blond there, knowing when he did finally have to say what had gone on, Hutch was the one he wanted to tell.

He looked over at the blond who was out cold on the hard chair at the side of his bed. Gazing down at the silky blond hair, he saw a large lump blossoming towards Hutch's forehead. It brought a stab of pain back to the brunette, surmising that Hutch must have sustained the injury on the heist the previous afternoon. The heist he should have been on. The heist where he should have been watching his partner's back. Shit – another life he'd fucked up. He looked further and saw a white gauze dressing peeking out from the hole in Hutch's trouser leg, then the crutches leant against the wall by the chair. He closed his eyes and wondered just how many other people he could hurt.

Sleep wouldn't return and Starsky spent the next hour staring at the ceiling, his mind occupied with dark thoughts. His side and back hurt with that dull ache that accompanies a selection of bruises, and his neck hurt with a sharp immediate pain. He'd put his hand up once and felt the large dressing, wondering just how bad the damage was. He finally got his answer as the door to his room was pushed open by a young male doctor. The noise of the door woke the blond, and both men stared at the intruder.

The doctor smiled back, an encouraging smile, reserved for those he thought were hurting the most. He'd seen far more severe injuries in his fairly brief time as a medic, but something about a vital, strong man in the prime of his life almost bleeding to death on him had had a profound effect. He crossed to the bed and perched on the edge.

'Good afternoon, Mr Starsky. I'm Doctor Hanley. How are you feeling now?' he asked.

Starsky took an instant liking to the man. Although young, he seemed genuine and caring. He obviously hadn't had his bedside manner knocked out of him, like so many of the older doctors. 'Call me Dave, or Starsky' he said. 'I answer to both. I'm OK. Sore, tired, ya know'.

'I'm not surprised' the doctor responded. 'If you're ready I can go through a list of your injuries with you?'

At a nod from the brunette he continued. 'The main injury was the trauma to your neck. It looks to me like it was caused by a knife or some other bladed instrument? You lost about half your blood volume, and we've been busy replacing that. I repaired your torn carotid artery in theatre, and the good news is that you should have no lasting ill effects, so long as you take it easy for the next few weeks. You have also fractured your zygoma – your cheek bone. That should heal on it's own without any surgical intervention. It's a common injury with a blow to the face, such as caused your bruised eye. However what worries me most is that you also have two cracked ribs and multiple bruising around your back and side. Not insignificant bruising, at that. But what concerns me about those injuries are that some of them seem to be several days, or even weeks old. Can you explain, Dave?'

He heard the intake of breath from his partner, but ignored it – later, Blintz, later.

Starsky looked away. Yeah, he could explain, but he wasn't going to say anything to a complete stranger. Hell, it was going to be difficult enough telling Hutch. He knew he would have to tell the blond. That his partner of seven years wouldn't let this drop now, having heard the catalogue of injuries he'd sustained. He tried for the bravado approach. 'Hey, I'm a cop. We expect to be injured once in a while, Doc. I feel Ok now. When can I go home, now?'

The doctor may have been young but he wasn't stupid. But he was sensible enough to understand that his patient was hurting far more on the inside than the outside. Very gently, he said 'I think that might be too soon, Dave. I wonder…….would you talk to a colleague of mine. Her name is Doctor Russell. She's a psychiatrist'.

The brunette stared back at the doctor, not believing what he'd heard. No, he wouldn't see a head doctor, especially not a woman! He immediately raised his voice. 'Oh that's just great Doc. Ya think that's the answer to everything. If a guy won't talk, send him to a shrink. Well, I'll tell ya, Doc. I'm not one of your "new men" who spends hours talking about how not having a Mechano Set as a child impacted on them wanting to beat someone up as an adult. I can sort my own head out OK? Now, can I go home, or what?' exhausted by his outburst, he sunk back on the pillow.

The doctor rose, not surprised that the man had got angry, but disappointed that he wouldn't accept help. 'Do you have anyone to look after you?' he asked calmly. 'You need someone with you for the next 48 hours'.

Hutch stood up. 'I'll be there', he said, as Starsky looked gratefully at him.

The doctor left, to make arrangements for medicines and follow up appointments, leaving the two men together. Hutch considered asking his partner to reconsider the offer of professional help. Drawing a deep breath, he started 'Starsk, you should think about….' He was cut off short.

'Not you too, Hutch, please? Look, I promise, once I've got all this sorted out in my head, I'll tell you, OK'

'No, not OK partner' the blond rounded on him. 'The good doctor there has just told me that you've had some of these injuries for over a week. Ross moved in two weeks ago. Now you either start talking, or you stay here, coz I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers. Ya got that?'

Starsky's anger subsided. Dejectedly he answered 'Just take me home, and we can talk. 'M sorry. Ya know I hate these places. Just get me out of here and it'll be easier, OK?'