Chapter 5

Ken Hutchinson opened his eyes slowly and groaned loudly as he tried to move his head from its resting place by the cushion on the arm of the chair. He had a crick in his neck and a headache and for some reason he seemed to have spent the night balled up on an easy chair instead of resting comfortably in his own bed.

He tried to lever himself up with his left hand and then the reality hit. He was at Starsky's, they'd had an interesting day the day before and both of them could quite easily have taken part in a commercial for a personal injury lawyer's firm. The blond gasped as he wigged the fingers of his injured arm and as he wiggled them the pain receded a little and he looked around. The door to Starsky's bedroom was closed and on impulse he got up and opened it.

Starsky was led on his right side, his face almost extinguished in the pillow looking every inch the dark angel. With his eyes closed and his longer curly hair tumbled across his forehead he looked fourteen rather than thirty four. If it hadn't been for the pinkish linear scars decorating his left side, chest and back his body would have been in perfect shape. But then there was the huge black bruise over his left ribs. As Hutch turned a sleep fuddled voice sounded from deep in the pillow.

'Will someone get me a coffee?'

Hutch snickered. 'Well certainly Sir. I'll get right on it Sir. Would Sir like me to draw him his morning bath?'

Starsky's eye opened. 'Shower. An' I can do that all on my own. Coffee's fine, thanks.'

'How's the rib?' Hutch asked just as Starsky as 'How's the arm?'

'Farm? Oh, arm. You first' the brunet muttered, not trusting himself to sit up just yet. He'd had a long and painful night but towards morning had gotten himself comfortable and had managed a few hours of sleep even though the whistling in his ear continued unabated. Hutch didn't look much better than he felt.

'Nothing's broken. It's ok. I won't be arm wrestling for a while, but I'm good to go. Did you sleep? Do you need any pain meds?'

Starsky shrugged and the movement brought a small pain sound from his throat. He swallowed it down and fought to sit up in bed without showing how much it hurt. It was a forlorn hope. Hutch had spent the past twelve months watching Starsky's recovery. By now the blond could read every nuance, every narrowing of the eyes.

'You're hurtin' aren't ya?'

'No more than I usually do in the morning.'

'I'll get your pills.'

'Chills? No, I'm fine.'

Hutch shook his head. 'PILLS. I'll get your pills.'

Starsky nodded. 'Just one. I don't wanna be sleeping on the job.'

'Two, and you aren't thinking of going in are you?'

'Why not?'

Hutch put his hands on his hips. 'Coz you can hardly breathe this morning. Give it a rest Starsk. No-one expects you to be Superman.'

A cloud passed over Starsky's face. 'You mean they all expect the cripple to be takin' a couple of days off here and there. Make allowances for the medical miracle huh? Oh, it's only Starsky. He got shot, he don't count the same.'

'Don't do that.'

Starsky continued unabated. 'It's true. They look at me like I got "Cripple" tattooed on my forehead.'

'Shudup' Hutch yelled. 'Shudup Starsk, you're talKin' crap.'

'Am I? For fuck's sake Hutch, how can they believe I can do the job when…..'

'When what?'

The brunet looked away. 'Nuthin.'

'When what? What were you gonna say?'

'Let it rest Hutch, I'm not in the mood.'

'No, I won't. You were gonna say something and I want to know what it was.'

Starsky started to swing his legs over the side of the bed. A pain lanced through his damaged chest and he clutched at it, bending over to get his breath. 'When I don't even believe it myself' he snarled, breathing past the pain.

Hutch walked out of the room and came back a minute later with two white pills and a glass of water. Silently he handed them to his partner and then sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but without invading Starsky's space.

'I thought we went over this last night' he said quietly.

'It still don't make it right Hutch. When I finally did get to sleep I dreamed about shooting you over and over again. I just keep askin' myself if I'm really fit enough to do this. When I'm sat here, I feel like I can take on the world. I feel healed and strong, but when the crunch comes, some slanty eyed pipsqueak can knock me down with a feather.'

'It was a nunchuck, and he was 130lbs of solid muscle Starsk. He probably started fighting when he was knee high to a grasshopper and he's just got better and meaner. No-one could have fought him any better.'

'That's just it though. I didn't fight. I wasn't fast enough. I just curled into a little ball like a girl!'

Hutch got up from the bed. 'I'm not even gonna have this conversation. You're as fit now as you were before Gunther. You're body is fine, it's what's inside that thick skull of yours that needs work.'

'I'm beat Hutch. The fire's gone out of me, that's what's the matter.'

'Then stay there and I'll ring in sick.'

'I said the fire had gone out. I'm not dead! If I can walk an' talk then I can get to the Metro, even if I'm not fit to take on Kim again any time soon.'

Hutch shrugged. 'So this is the newer, softer, all improved Starsky is it?'

Starsky looked up and grinned. 'Yup. A new me.'

'And what brought about this seed change huh?'

The brunet sighed, winced and rubbed at his chest. 'I can't face your pep talks any more. So. No temper any more. I'm just gone take each day as it comes.'

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'The fuckin' bastards! God, let me get my hands on 'em. I'm gonna wring 'em limb from limb, chew 'em up and spit out the pieces.'

'And this is the calm, temper free Starsk, is it?' Hutch came to stand by his partner as the two men surveyed the shiny black TransAm that had captured Starsky's heart after his beloved Torino had died. Now, the beautiful high gloss hood that stretched away into infinity was marred by the paint stripper that had been tipped liberally across it. Bare metal showed through the ravaged paintwork and for a moment Hutch thought Starsky was going to cry. The brunet ran his hand lovingly over the machine.

'I'm gonna make 'em pay for what they've done to you baby' he murmured and looked up. 'That bastard has it comin' to him.'

'Which bastard? We seem to upset most of 'em' Hutch asked, although he already knew the answer.

'Kim. Get in the car, we're going down to the restaurant right now.'

Hutch put a restraining hand on his buddy's shoulder. 'Um…..no, we aren't.'

Starsky glowered. 'And why not? There's only him would have done this.'

'Well first, if you go after him in your condition, you're gonna break more than your temper. Second, if he's had time to do this, what else has he done at the car, huh?

The brunet considered that last chilling thought for a moment and then eased himself down onto the ground by the side of his car. Hutch trotted around to the other side and mirrored the move until both men could see underneath the TransAm. Carefully, they checked the brake lines, the fuel lines and anything else that was readily visible. With no unexpected leaks or packages of explosives, they progressed to under the hood and finally to inside the vehicle.

'Clear?' Hutch asked.

'Looks like it. Let me at 'em.' Starsky started to open the driver's side door but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He stopped and turned. 'What?'

'Gimme the keys.'

'Why?'

Hutch V'd his eyebrows. 'Coz you're not fit to drive.'

Starsky frowned. 'Am too' he said petulantly.

'Starsk you had your head mashed yesterday and last night you were almost too sore to get to bed. You wouldn't let me get you checked out but if you didn't have a concussion you were pretty close to it. As I'd prefer to live all my life, I'm gonna drive.'

The brunet glared. 'Is that the real reason?'

Hutch smiled innocently and got into the car, pushing Starsky gently out of the way. 'I have no idea what you mean' he muttered sweetly.

Starsky grunted and walked around to the passenger side of his own car, trying to ignore the battlefield that was his hood. He got into the car carefully to avoid hurting his chest and stared out of the windshield. 'You think I'm gonna go straight to the Royal Pheonix.'

'The thought had crossed my mind, yes.'

'They had no right.'

'I know buddy, and we will get them, but we have to do this by the book otherwise Dobey will throw it at us.'

'Fine.' Starsky threw his hands up in defeat. 'Whatever you say, but one way or the other I'm gonna get even.'

'And we will, but let's just get to work first huh?'

They drove in silence. Hutch was aware of the waves of suppressed anger coming from his right hand side. It was a while since Starsky had been so mad, in fact the last time was the day the police surgeon had first told the brunet that he may never recover fully enough to get back to his previous job. On that occasion, Starsky had walked calmly out of the doctor's room and down to the police garage. Hutch had followed him, aware something was going down and when he finally stopped Starsky, the brunet had whirled on his friend and taken a swing at him in his frustration.

'Talk to me' Hutch eventually broke the silence.

'Nuthin to say.'

'That's a first.'

'You don't wanna hear it.'

Hutch drew to a halt outside the big square stone building and switched off the engine. 'Try me.'

'I don't wanna go in.'

'In? To work? You said you were ok. You told me you didn't want to take a sick day.'

'I don't. I just don't want to go in.'

Hutch turned in his seat. 'Run that by me again.'

'I dunno. I guess I'm just feelin' raw. I go in there and I feel like they're all lookin' at me and thinkin' I shouldn't be there…..that I should have been pensioned off.'

'Yeah, I can imagine that, especially Sergeant Prescoe after you mashed him into the gym mat last week when he tried sparring with you.'

'That's not it. It's just….. like when I go into the squad room and the guys like Boone and Patterdale look at me. Clay Patterdale never did like me but somehow he's almost vicious now.'

'Aww c'mon buddy. You're just feelin' sore. It's your imagination, Patterdale's fine and Boone looks at you like a puppy'd look at his owner. He idolises you.'

'Ya think?'

Hutch patted Starsky's knee. 'I don't think, I know. C'mon, the sooner we face Dobey, the sooner we can get out onto Kim's tail.'

With another grunt the brunet got out of the door and followed his partner up to the familiar room on the first floor. They pushed open the swing doors to the squad room and Starsky groaned inwardly. Sitting at their desks by the door Boone and Patterdale looked up as the duo entered. He and Hutch nodded a greeting and received a nod back.

'Are you feeling better Starsky?' Boone asked.

'Shudup kid, he's just asking for sympathy' Patterdale mumbled.

Hutch turned, having heard the comment. 'Say again' he asked.

Patterdale met the crystal eyes. 'I said he should be home tucked up in bed. He had a late night.'

Hutch walked over to stand by the desk, leaving Starsky pouring coffee. 'And you should know. What were you doing up so late yourself?'

Patterdale looked back down at his work. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Don't give me that. You heard Dobey balling us out about that Chinese guy and yet I'm sure I saw your car outside the restaurant last night. What's going on Clay?'

Boone looked up sharply. 'Did you have a meal out?' he asked his partner.

Patterdale got up and pulled Hutch to one side, his eyes narrowing. Lowering his voice Patterdale fixed Hutch with a glare. 'Shudup Hutchinson. It wasn't me, ok?'

'It was your car Pat. Are you spying on us? Or is it something else?'

Patterdale's face turned ugly and he pushed the blond out into the hallway and down towards the washrooms. Once inside, he slammed the door closed and faced off against Hutch. 'Keep your voice down, keep your nose out of my business and leave me and my partner alone if you know what's good for you.'

Hutch fixed the big man with the full force of his gaze. 'Or what Pat? What're you hiding huh?'

'I told ya Hutch, back off. Your partner might be back in the land of the living, but he can't back you up when the crunch comes. Just back off and leave us alone huh?'

Hutch frowned. 'Back off from what ? What's goin' on Clay? What're ya hiding?'

'I'm hiding nothing and if you know what's good for you, you and that curly haired poodle'll keep out of my hair.' Patterdale balled his hand into a fist and looked as though he was going to take a swing at Hutch but as he prepared to take the blow, the door opened and a uniformed officer came into the bathroom. Both Hutch and Patterdale looked around and Patterdale backed off a couple of steps. There was silence as the officer made his way to one of the stalls and as business commenced the big man prodded Hutch hard in the chest.

'Back off and leave me alone. Don't pry if you know what's good for you' Patterdale hissed as he walked out leaving Hutch looking at the door and wondering exactly what was going on.