Hutch's POV

He can be so fucking irritating sometimes! It's his charm too….his boyish charm. He just has to roll those deep blue eyes and anyone melts…me, Dobey and women – especially women. I figure Starsky could seduce a statue. He has a winning smile too; no Hutchinson, be honest, he has a collection of them! There's the little half-smile, not much more that a hint of a smile playing on that perfect cupid bow mouth of his. Then there's the half grin that spreads lop-sided and lights up his face like a cheeky kid. Finally he gives 'em the full shot. A big toothy grin that spreads to his eyes and boy it's contagious. He can smile like a dangerous shark too. That same toothy routine but the eyes stay almost cold. When Starsky throws that one you know you're in trouble. He's done it to me a few times – when he thinks I fucked up; or he thinks I'm asking/doing something dumb.

He isn't smiling now though; or is he? At rest, lying on his back, Starsky's face falls into a slight smile. But behind a smile there should be an emotion – a feeling – a consciousness; and no-one knows if there is anything there any more.

I believe there is. That's why I come and talk to him every day. Lily will be here tomorrow. His beloved momma; he once told me he could never refuse her anything. If she sits and talks to him I know he'll fight to come back.

I'm still trying to get it straight in my head. We'd been playing table tennis in the squad room while it was being repainted. And we were playing some crazy game Starsky had invented; what did he call it...oh yes, song-title ping pong. The challenge was down. The winner got to choose the restaurant for dinner. I should have known better. To be honest I was dreading him winning….he'd probably choose some fly-blown taco stand in the kind of neighborhood no sane person walks into!

He won…

…and then he lost.

He won the game and grinned at me. I remember Dobey's face…was Starsky calling him a loser?

Off he went down the hallway strutting in that weird way of his.

As we walked out of the building he was rattling on about Lobster or was it New York steak?

I saw it…

…. but I didn't.

I heard it…

…. but I didn't

The black and white parked in amongst the unmarked cars….instead of with the other patrol cars.

The sound of metal against metal.

I froze.

The whole scene played out in front of me in slow motion.

Starsky went to open the car; he was putting the key in the lock.

The black and white moved forward; it hit the car beside it….that wasn't right.

Instinct took over and I went for my gun.

"Starsky!" I heard my voice screaming his name.

Then I heard the shots. Some kind of automatic – a machine gun maybe?

And Starsky wasn't there.

I stood and looked at where he had been; where he should have been; opening the door of the Torino and yelling at me to hurry up because he wanted that dinner date.

The Torino was still there but Starsky wasn't.

Then I saw the windows. I saw the shattered glass and the bullet holes in the body work.

I ran forward. I could see a pool of something red….as if the Torino was bleeding.

Starsky was slumped against the back wheel – hunched up against it the way he huddled up to me a couple of times when the pain was too much.

It wasn't the Torino that was bleeding. I knew a car couldn't bleed…but once… yes once….

Some asshole bled the brake fluid! They cut the lines!

The blood was Starsky's. It was pooling out around him; too dark to be a flesh wound.

He wasn't moving. I waited for him to look up at me and say something obscene the way he usually does when he's hurting. But Starsky wasn't moving.

I crouched down beside him.

There were four neat holes in the back of his jacket.

Is that a flier's jacket?

Yeah

Where did you get it?

Standard issue

Huh?

They put me in airborne – sharp shooter…but I got on the wrong plane! I kept the jacket.

Careful what you're doing! Aw shit! Look at that; you made me spill ketchup down my jacket! You know how much it costs to get a leather jacket cleaned, asshole? Hey Hutch, what do you think, we take him down now or after he's licked all the ketchup off my jacket?

Four holes in his back. My instinct was to run my hand up inside his T-shirt and check the exit holes…check out the damage.

I let my fingers explore as gently as possible. I took my hand out of his T-shirt – it was covered in blood but I only felt two holes. He was bleeding from his wounds and he was bleeding inside.

I turned his head towards me, cradling him and praying to a god I thought I'd left behind in Duluth. There was blood pouring out of his mouth. Bright blood. Foaming blood. He'd taken a bullet in a lung.

"Where's the fucking ambulance?"

It must have been my voice but I didn't recognize the fear-filled hysteria.

Dobey was standing beside me.

"Calm down Hutch; they'll be here soon."

I could hear the sirens. I could feel him slipping away from me.

"Hold on in there Starsky. Don't leave me yet. Not here."

They took him away from me, the way you take a toy from a sleepy child. The eased him out of my arms and slid him onto a gurney. They put an oxygen mask over his face and took him away from me.

Dobey helped me up. I was totally disoriented. I didn't know where I was anymore. Part of me was slipping away…I was losing grip on myself.

Dobey was reassuring. He called me 'son' and led me to his car.

I wanted to take the Torino; to race after the ambulance with the siren wailing and all lights flashing, including the Mars that I've dropped more than once when it felt like he took a corner on two wheels.

Dobey led me to his car. "The Torino's damaged Hutch. You can't drive it like that."

I felt in my pocket. I didn't have the key. I stopped and looked at the ground where Starsky had fallen…it wasn't there, just a pool of blood. He still had the key to his beloved car in his hand.

We followed the ambulance. Dobey is a pretty good driver – but he's not Starsky!

That kid should be driving in the Indy. Who said that? Oh yea; the cop he was partnered with when we first hit the streets in uniform. Kid's a real hot rod.

Dobey stuck with the ambulance; then it slowed right down. It nearly stopped. Dobey swore.

"What the…?"

I knew; I did more than just pre-med. I rode in an ambulance a few times too…they slow right down when they have to revive the patient. Or when there's no point in hurrying any more.

"He's dead. They slow down when…"

But he wasn't. Somehow he pulled through and the ambulance picked up speed again. And we were off in hot pursuit.

I ran into Emergency but they wouldn't let me near him. They led us to a waiting area.

We sat and waited.

Eternity.

Hours or minutes.

Eternity ticking away with the hands of the clock.

They took him straight to surgery.

The orderly came back with his stuff. He handed me the bundle wrapped up in the jacket.

His personal effects…as if he was already dead.

I unraveled the bundle. I pulled out the scruffy jeans and the blood-stained T-shirt. I flipped open the worn leather wallet and fingered his badge and ID. It had been his father's wallet; I knew that if you took out Dave Starsky's ID you'd find another one underneath. Behind David Michael Starsky, Detective Sergeant Second Class you'd find Moishe 'Mike' Starsky. His dad didn't live to make detective.

His gun was still in the holster. He had tried to pull it. When I found him his left arm was across his chest; his hand on the holster under his jacket. That's where at least one of the bullets ended up…I didn't see it until they put him on the gurney. Bright arterial blood, running out from under his sleeve.

I couldn't find the key.

The doctor came out.

He walked straight over to me. He knows us both well enough. He's patched us both up before now. He came to me because Starsky and I hold power of attorney for one another….in case of a situation like this.

"He's alive, just. His heart stopped again on the table but we got him going again.

Time will tell if we did the right thing."

I shook my head…did a double take like in a cartoon.

"What do you mean?"

"He's very badly injured. There's massive internal damage. I'll give you the details later, Hutch."

He knows about my time in college. He knew how much I'd understand. He knew I wasn't ready to hear it yet.

"We don't know if he'll pull through. And to be honest we can't even start to predict what his final condition will be even if he does regain consciousness. I'm keeping him in a deep coma for at least forty eight hours; then we'll see what happens. I'm not making any prognosis; I'm not making any decisions either. We'll talk about it again in forty eight hours."

"Can I see him?"

He nodded and led me into the ICU. I wasn't allowed to cross the line – I had to stay behind the window. I sat there with my chin on my hands and leaned against the glass and hoped that somewhere deep in his subconscious he'd get the signal. Me and Thee.

He looked so peaceful. As far as we knew he had no idea of what had happened to him.

As far as medical science knew; he felt no pain.

I felt all the pain for him. Mental and physical. I shared his pain.

Dobey tried to reassure me but I knew.

"He's dying…"

Huggy arrived. I heard Dobey tell him about the two hit men dressed as cops.

He's dying and I couldn't stop it happening.

And if he dies I have no reason to go on.