Chapter 13 – 2 days later – Safe House, somewhere in Bay City

Starsky awoke, slowly coming back to consciousness to a wonderful warm feeling of gentle hands on his body. For long moments he lay and savoured the feelings of cool cloths across his chest and belly. The cloths smelled of sandalwood soap and were warm and sensuous and it was only when they began to dip even lower towards his hips and the core of his body that he thought he really ought to open his eyes and attempt to re-enter the world of the living. As he felt the centre of his body cocooned in the soft, fragrant cloth he let out a small sigh.

'Angel?' he asked softly, his voice husky and weak. The hands stopped their ministrations and as he forced his eyes open a girls face appeared above him reinforcing the idea that he wasn't where he thought he should be.

The blond nurse smiled down at him and rested her hand on his forehead. 'Not an angel. Just Maureen. Hey there. Nice to see the colour of those eyes finally' she said, staggered at the depth of the blue irises.

'M'dead……s'heaven' Starsky mumbled. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and he recognised the dryness at the back of his throat. Oxygen. Now that he thought about it, he could feel the annoying presence of nasal cannula resting on his top lip. Damned oxygen! Did it to him every time. He tried to lick his dry lips and the nurse was immediately there with an ice chip, running it gently over his lips before she placed it on his tongue.

'Ssh' she admonished. 'Don't try to talk. I'll go and get the doctor'.

He looked at her appreciatively, 'Get him in an hour' the brunet gave a shadow of a grin which ended in a cough which ripped through his chest. He groaned, clutching with his right hand at his injuries. The young nurse eased him back onto the pillow.

'Don't start getting frisky mister' she chuckled. 'Let that be a lesson to you……but…… maybe in a week or so?' she winked at him as he settled his head back on the fluffy white pillow and closed his eyes. Sleep overtook him and within seconds he was once again dead to the world, his brief conversation having sapped what little strength he had.

The next time he awoke, a few hours later, he felt more rested and his eyes felt less like they were going to fall out of his head. Starsky had had dreams, some of which were scary and all of which were painful and it was one of these nightmares that had shaken him awake now. He opened his eyes with a start, assessing his situation. The oxygen tubes were still there and now, as he mentally explored his body, he could feel other invasive devices. Drips in the back of his left hand….no, make that both hands – damn that wasn't good. Another tube made its presence felt lower down his body. It didn't hurt, but a catheter always made him feel even more of an invalid and he detested the things. He'd have to work on the nurse to get that thing taken out pretty quickly. He couldn't move his left arm which felt like it as tied down to something, but he'd worry about that later. As he tried to lift his head to look down the bed, he became aware of a presence in the room and as he turned his head on the pillow he looked straight into the big caring brown eyes he knew so well.

'Cap'n' he muttered gazing into Dobey's face and drinking in the welcome smile and the concern on the honest brown face. The nightmares he'd had had all included Hutch, some with a gun in his hand, some with the blond dying or bleeding on the ground and he desperately wanted to see his friends and particularly his partner again.

'Ut'sh?' he made it sound like a question.

'Easy Dave. Hutch isn't here right now. He asked me to wait with ya though. How much do you remember?'

Starsky closed his eyes and thought hard, the memories setting up a deep thud of pain in his body. Hutch asked Dobey to wait. Yeah, that was so like his partner! He concentrated hard. 'Lilly……found out who I was……creeps got ….. better of me'.

'Yeah, they did a number on you ok'.

'Cap'n, heist……is Friday'.

'Friday? Where? What time?' Dobey asked

Starsky coughed weakly. 'Damn…..don't know. Need t'see Hutch. It wasn't his fault….not….his fault' he mumbled, his eyes once again clouding with exhaustion.

'Hutch is still on the assignment, but he's fine. He knows you're ok. Starsky? Who shot you?' Dobey asked, not wanting to understand what he thought the injured cop was trying to tell him.

The troubled eyes flashed open again and Starsky's head rolled on the pillow as though he were trying to shake himself rid of his memories. 'Didn't have no choice….Bo would've if he hadn't'.

'Hutch did this? Hutch shot you?' Dobey asked incredulously

'Yeah' the word was no more than a sigh 'Ut'sh….need t'see him…..Hutch……Utch' the brunet's eyes closed and he started to murmur the name over and again becoming more agitated by the moment as he called for his absent partner. The Captain pushed the nurse call button and within seconds, the pretty nurse from earlier and the doctor who'd been assigned to the case came into the small room. As the doctor shone his penlight into Starsky's eyes and held his wrist to check his pulse, Maureen was soothing her patient, whispering nonsense words quietly as she rested her hand on the brunet's forehead, running her fingers through his hair. Slowly the cop quietened down some and as the doctor injected sedative into the port on the drip feed he looked around angrily.

'I thought I told you he wasn't to be upset'.

'I…I didn't. I just asked him what he remembered' Dobey blustered feeling guiltier by the minute. Doctor Roberts had a fearsome reputation although he was an excellent doctor. The Captain was more than shocked by the revelation that the blond had been forced to shoot his partner and now, the state Hutch had been in when he'd made the phone call two day earlier made even more sense. He felt bad for the big wheaten haired cop, worse now that he knew what Hutch had been through, but he reminded himself that it would only be another couple of days before the whole operation was over. And now that Starsky had regained consciousness, if Hutch did mange to get through again, he'd have the good news for him.

'I've given him something to help him sleep. He won't wake for a couple of hours. I'll be back when he does. He needs answers before he can start to heal'.

'Yeah, thanks Doc' Dobey said as he looked at the body on the bed. 'I have to get back out there, but I'm leaving two men here to guard him. He got up heavily and went out into the corridor where Simmonetti, O'Rourke and Jiminez were waiting.

'News?' the Irishman asked. His beard was dark on his face marking the fact he'd taken no more than a few minutes at a time away from the brunet's bedside in the past two days.

'He's been awake for a couple of minutes. He doesn't remember too much, and he's weak' Dobey reported.

'Did he tell you who shot him?' O'Rourke pressed further.

Dobey lifted pain filled eyes and nodded. 'We have to finish this soon. It's costing too much. Get Hutch outa there by the end of the week'.

'Uh huh. We will, but who did it Cap? Who pulled the trigger?'

The rotund black man sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily with his hand. 'Hutch did it' he said, leaving the three other men in shocked silence.

Later that day, with Dobey gone back to his office and O'Rourke back out staking out the warehouse, Simmonetti and Jiminez waited outside Starsky's room as the doctor walked in. The brunet was once more awake and had surprised the doctor with his recuperative powers. He knew Starsky needed answers and he was about to give them.

The two cops followed the broad back of the doctor into the room and stood at the back as the medic sat down on the chair by the bed. Starsky's eyes followed the action and finally settled on Doc Roberts. He was a medium height, portly man with a gingerish beard and a shock of golden blond hair which refused to lie flat, giving him a lion-like quality. Piercing blue eyes fixed the detective and the doctor smiled.

'You'll be needing to know what we had to do to fix you up' he said without preamble. 'Let me tell you, you gave us quite a scare detective and it was touch and go for a while'.

Starsky sighed. He'd been here before and listened to much the same speech and it didn't impress him. 'Just gimme the facts Doc and spare the drama huh?' His voice was still rasping and weak, but his eyes held some of their old fire now and Roberts smiled at him, immediately liking his patient.

'Ok, the facts. When your friends got you to the hospital you'd lost a quarter of your blood volume. Over the course of the past three days you've received seven pints of blood. You were shot in your left upper chest and the bullet was either aimed very carefully or you were extremely lucky. It missed virtually every major blood vessel, although it has still done some quite severe damage'.

'They have a habit of it' the brunet mumbled.

'Don't they just? The bullet wound was compounded by your broken collar bone and broken left elbow. We've set them both, hence your left arm is strapped to your chest for the time being to give the injuries some support. We've stitched the major lacerations on your face, notably the wound on your right temple and down your left cheek. Your eye will be fine, although I want you to keep the patch on for several more days yet'.

It wasn't till that moment that Starsky realised he had no depth perception and that his right eye wasn't working. He swallowed down hard, vague memories of the beating resurfacing and making his heart beat wildly in his chest. Roberts saw his patient getting weaker and pressed on quickly.

'I'm afraid we had to perform a splenectomy. Your spleen was ruptured during your maltreatment and was beyond repair. You're abdomen will continue to be painful for a while and you have a drain there at the moment. You'll feel more comfortable when that's removed. And finally, your right leg was damaged and you dislocated your right kneecap, but we've surgically cleaned the area and it's currently strapped up. You shouldn't have too many problems with it later on, but for the moment we need you to rest it. Are there any questions for me? I know this is a lot to take in'.

Starsky shook his head. He felt tired, washed out, and the list of injuries left him reeling. He knew he'd been hurt fairly badly, but having the doctor catalogue them all left him feeling faintly nauseous and had set up a deep throb of pain within his body. 'No, m'fine doc. Thanks…… guess I owe ya one'.

Roberts recognised the signs of fatigue. Starsky's voice was getting weaker and he stood up swiftly. 'Rest Mr Starsky, that's what you need. Complete rest. You know where I am if you need me' he smiled and exited the room, leaving the brunet alone with Jiminez and Simmonetti. As the two detectives watched, the curly haired cop's eyes slid shut and once again, he as asleep.

The next time he awoke the room was bathed in a warm amber light and he assumed it was late evening or some time during the night. He could hear muttered voices in his room and for a moment couldn't remember where he was. Only when he'd opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds did his memory return and he looked sideways, seeing Jiminez and Simmonetti deep in conversation and with their backs to him.

'Guys' he mumbled but they didn't hear him and he tuned into Jiminez and Simonetti's conversation.

'I can't believe Hutch would have shot him' Jiminez said wonderingly. 'What sort of guy would shoot is partner?'

'Well he shot his wife dead' Simmonetti's voice responded. 'They all tell a different tale, but I tell ya. Me an' the guy I used to partner – we investigated it an' it was all a cover up. That Hutchinson's a wild card alright. Wouldn't trust him to piss on me if I was on fire!'

'Didn't know he'd been married'.

'Yeah. An' she was a looker too, till he….. Well she wasn't pretty at the end. He….'

'Didn't kill Van' Starsky muttered angrily, stopping the two men's conversation in their tracks. They looked around guiltily and Simmonetti stood up and walked over to the bed.

'How're you doing?' he asked coldly.

'Be better if you weren't here' Starsky snapped weakly.

'You'd be better if you had a safer partner. At least then you wouldn't be here at all'.

The brunet sighed. 'How'd ya figure that Einstein?'

'Well a normal partner wouldn't have shot his best friend' Simmonetti grunted.

'Shudup. Ya don't know shit!' Starsky's voice rose, as did the pain levels in his body. Behind Simmonetti, Jiminez was trying to keep the peace.

'Hey, guys, guys. Enough already. Cool it Starsky, Ivan didn't mean nothing. Let me go get the nurse'. Jiminez raced for the door and down the corridor.

'Yeah, I did, an' he knows it. He knows what a good for nothing cowardly piece o' shit Hutchinson is. Any normal guy would'a tried to save his partner's life rather than try an' kill him' Simmonetti grinned down at the injured cop, pressing home his advantage now that he and his arch enemy were alone.

Starsky struggled to sit up, determined he was going to have a piece of the former IA cop, no matter what shape he was in. With his right hand he flung the sheet, groaning as he tried to put his legs over the side of the bed. The drips, the drains and the monitor leads all anchored him to the bed and in desperation he started to claw at them, just as Maureen raced back into the room.

'What the hell?' she exclaimed, running to her patient and taking hold of his shoulders. The exertion had been too much for the sable haired cop and as she took a hold of him, his head rested on her shoulder, Starsky's body trembling in her grasp. She eased him back onto the bed, where he lay panting, eyes closed as his head rolled on the pillow. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he started moaning Hutch's name again. Maureen looked up angrily.

'What just happened?'

Simonnetti licked his lips nervously. 'He's crazy! He was trying to attack me! He needs some sort of sedation. Can't ya give him something – at the very least he needs restraining – for his own safety. Here'. the cop came forward and before Maureen could stop him, he'd taken a hold of Starsky's right arm, snicked one half of his cuffs on and secured the other half to the head of the bed.

The brunet seemed not to notice. He was lost in his delirium now and Maureen tried hard to calm him, soothing his forehead and running a cold cloth down his cheek. But nothing could quiet the fevered moans and cries and finally she knew she had no other choice. Taking the syringe that Doc Roberts had left just in case, she inserted it into the port of the drip and depressed the plunger, sending the sedative into the brunet's bloodstream.

Indigo eyes flashed open. 'Utch….Ut'sh…..help me…..Ut'sh….nooooo, please…..'. Slowly the sedative started to take effect as Jiminez glared angrily at Simmonetti and Maureen continued to sit by the injured cop.