Chapter 12

The wait for the doctor seemed interminable and Starsky was glad that Sam was waiting with him. They both sat in the little room and watched the blond as he struggled with his unseen demons. Once or twice the ice blue eyes flew open, although they were sightless. The muttering was louder now.

'C cover me! Starsk, g get down! Oh shit. Noooo. Ross, no!' he shouted as Starsky smoothed the cloth over his forehead.

'Ssssh, Hutch. It's Ok buddy. Just lie quiet, the doctors coming. Ssssh. I'm here. The bad guys are all gone, it's just me and thee', he murmured over and over again.

'S Starsk? Where are you………..Oh shit,…..nooo……Starsky,

d don't leave………w where are you b buddy? ……..Ahhhhh'.

Starsky tried to comfort the big blond, wondering exactly what nightmare he was having.

Sam sat by his side and alternated between holding Hutch's hand and putting a comforting arm around the brunette. She was amazed at the bond the two men had and felt inadequate at the side of the curly haired cop as he cared for his partner. He was so attentive, wiping the sweat as it ran down the blonde's face and soothingly rubbing gently along the bare arms – he almost seemed to feel the blonde's pain. The man laid in the bed was a far cry from the athletic blond she had met on her trip to Bay City police academy those years ago. She hated to see him suffering like this. She didn't know what had gone on between the two, but she was damn well going to find out.

About 15 minutes later, the door downstairs opened and a gruff voice shouted out. 'Sam, where are you love?'

She looked up from the bed. 'Up here doctor, the back bedroom'. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs then the comforting bulk of Doctor Patterson appeared in the doorway. He was a tall, powerfully built and heavy set man. He had a ruddy complexion and thinning grey hair, combed back away from his moustached face. He carried a doctor's black bag, which he now put down on the floor by the side of Hutch's bed. Starsky stood up to give the man more room.

'And who've we got here?' he asked in a broad Lancashire accent.

Starsky answered. 'His name's Ken hutchinson, but everyone calls him Hutch. We've just arrived here on vacation. We're cops….policemen. He was shot in the leg last week. He had it seen to at the hospital, but I saw it tonight an' its looks infected. He erm………….he's been too busy this last week, an' he …………he forgot to take the antibiotics the hospital gave him', the brunette finished lamely.

The doctor was busy looking at his patient, feeling the forehead, prising the eyes open and feeling around Hutch's neck at the glands there. Without looking up he replied 'Hm. Gunshot wound eh? Don't see many o' them 'ereabouts'. He addressed himself to the delirious man in the bed. 'Come on son, lets be havin' a look at you'. He pulled the sheet back and with Starsky's help, pulled the pyjama pants off, exposing the ugly wound on the blonde's thigh. Sam gasped as she saw it, but the doctor was busy.

Very gently he pushed the skin around the purple wound, apologising to the big blond as he writhed on the bed, trying to jerk the limb from the doctor's touch,

'I'm sorry laddy. That's it; it's all done for a minute, rest easy there'. He looked around at Sam and Starsky.

'Well, you were right about the infection, son', he said to the brunette. 'He's got a bad case there, but we'll sort it. I'm going to have to cut the stitches and flush the wound out to get rid of the rubbish in there. Then I'll leave it open for a while till the infection clears. He'll be OK. Tell me. Are you squeamish?' he asked.

Starsky swallowed 'Not really. I've seen him with worse. I'll do whatever it takes, but aren't you going to take him to hospital?'

The doctor chuckled. 'Well, I really didn't think two big strapping young men like you two would want to spend your holidays at Queens Park Hospital'. He leaned forward conspiratorially 'between you an' me, the foods disgusting!'.

Suddenly, Starsky really liked this guy. He even hated hospital food – what more needed to be said.

The doctor was continuing. 'If you can help me with this tonight, I can make sure the District Nurse calls in twice a day for a few days to make sure your friend is alright. Now'. He turned to Sam. 'I'm going to need a clean sheet, some hot water, a towel and some better light than that', he nodded at the bedside lamp. Sam went off to get the requisite items.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As Sam busied herself getting the doctors list together, the doctor himself was appraising the brunette. He took in the black eye, the bruises on the torso and the stitches on his neck with one glance.

'You look like you're been in the wars too' he said conversationally. 'Do they pay you extra for all the attention you two seem to get?'

'I wish' Starsky responded, his hand going self consciously to the wound on his neck.

The doctor ignored the gesture and continued. 'Those stitches look like they'll need to come out sometime this week. Come to the surgery on Friday and my nurse'll do the honours'.

Sam cam back into the room and between the three of them, they arranged the clean sheet under Hutch's leg, and the doctor busied himself setting out the instruments he'd need from his bag. He laid them out side by side on the nearest portion of clean sheet, then prepared a syringe. Turning to Sam and Starsky he went on.

'Right, I'll numb around the area then cut the stitches. Sam, if you can be ready with that' – he indicated several sachets of saline 'and I'll use that to flush the wound out. Are we ready?'

Starsky moved himself round until he was at the back of his partner, and manoeuvred the blond head onto his lap. He held Hutch's hands across his chest, and nodded to the doctor. He moved forward and swiftly injected the novocaine around the margins of the wound.

Hutch bucked on the bed as Starsky held him carefully but forcefully, trying to make sure he didn't move too much as the doctor administered the drug. Mercifully it was over fairly quickly, as Starsky continued to comfort his partner.

'C'mon Hutch, it's OK. Easy partner, I got ya, easy', he murmured in a low voice, struggling to keep hold of the hands.

The doctor sat back and allowed the Novocaine to take effect, disposing of the syringe and picking up a small scalpel blade. He leaned forward again and swiftly snipped the four stitches. Immediately, a torrent of pus and other matter poured out, and Sam quickly wiped it away with a set of swabs. The doctor then used six or seven sachets of saline and flushed the remains of the necrotic material out, continuing until he was sure the wound was clean.

Finally he sat back and looked over to Starsky, 'I think that should be OK. I've put some antibiotic powder in there, and I'll give him a shot of the same stuff, and another of pain killer. He'll probably sleep for a while now. I'll leave the wound open, and the District Nurse will be round later today to see to it and dress it again. He put a white gauze square over the open area and taped it down.

Hutch seemed to find relief almost immediately, and had settled down a lot once the pressure had been taken from his leg.

'He'll have this temperature for a while yet, so make sure you get him to drink plenty, but he should start showing signs of improvement soon. I'll be back tonight to check on him. Don't let him get up except for bathroom trips and don't let him get tired'. The doctor packed his bag away and got up to leave. 'Oh, and if you need anything' he started meaningfully at Starsky's wounds, 'you know where I am'.

The brunette nodded as the doctor left, and headed back over to his partner. Hutch looked more peaceful and seemed to be sleeping easily, the angry flush having gone from his face. He stroked the handsome face gently, glad his partner was resting a little easier.

'I like that guy' the brunette said to Sam as she came back into the room.

'Doctor Patterson has been my doctor all my life – he was even at the delivery when I was born! He's a good man. How's Hutch?'

'I think he'll be OK. I'll stay with him now, if you want to go back to bed' he smiled at her.

'It's probably escaped your notice, but its 6.30. No time for bed now. I'll go and get us drinks then we can talk'.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As Hutch slept peacefully, Sam brought cups of tea for Starsky and herself and sat comfortably on the floor at the side of the bed, as the brunette perched on the bedside, ready should the blond need anything.

'How long have you known each other?' she asked.

Starsky cast his mind back. 'Must be over ten years now. We met at the police academy and trained together, then he made Detective four months before I did. When I passed the exams, Captain Dobey paired us together, an' that's how it's been ever since. Seems like a lifetime'.

'Did you know he'd been hurt before you came here?'

The question took him off balance and he paused before answering. He desperately needed to talk. He knew now that if he didn't get help soon, the events of the last few weeks would engulf him and he would never emerge as the same Starsky again. But he also knew he wasn't ready to divulge painful secrets and truths to a person he'd only met the day before. Hell, he'd only just been able to open up a little bit to the big blond.

He looked back at his partner, feeling bone tired. He couldn't dismiss the feeling that if Ross hadn't hurt him and he'd gone with Hutch to the heist, Hutch may not have been shot. His world was disappearing into a big black hole with every person that he'd hurt. He saw himself standing in the middle of a circle, shooting down Ross, Terry, Rosey and Hutch, watching them fall to the ground whilst he stood staring, rooted to the spot and unable or unwilling to help.

'Dave?...Starsky?'

He looked up.

'Hey, you were miles away! Are you OK?'

He paused. 'Yeah, I'm just tired, that's all,' he lied. 'I'm sorry'.

Sam put her tea cup down and kneeled up next to him. She put a hand on his knee and looked earnestly into his face.

'I know I've only known you a short time, but "I'm tired" doesn't really cut it. I know it's none of my business, but you're covered in bruises and you look like life is just too much for you at the moment. I don't know what's gone on, but I do know that the world is hard sometimes and friends can be in short supply. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here'.

Starsky closed his eyes and waited to bring his emotions under control, her words striking a painful chord with him. Yes, the world was hard and God knows he was hurting so much. A tear rolled down his cheek, unbidden, and he felt a small warm finger gently brush it away.

'I'm sorry' he whispered. 'God, you must think I'm a real screw up'. He wiped the back of his hand over his face, angrily. 'There's been a whole load of shit happen recently, an' it was Hutch's idea to come here. I'm sorry we've caused all this trouble'.

'I'm glad you came, and do you realise in the last minute you've apologised three times. Don't. Just relax, you're with a friend. You'll realise, if you stay, that there's something about this house. It'll get to you, like it's got at me. Maybe it's the families it's seen down through the centuries, but if you can't find some comfort here, then you're past all hope! Just slow down and look after Hutch. And I can look after the two of you, and we can take it from there'.