Chapter 16

'Sue who?' For a moment Hutch thought the drugs must have clouded his mind more than he'd thought. For one staggering minute he though his Captain had said the foulest curse word he could think of – Gunther. The name still clawed at his heart and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stared hard at Dobey, but the Captain's face showed nothing but seriousness and care.

'I'm sorry Hutch. I've been at the metro all morning. I got that bright kid, Michaelson up in records to pull everything we had on Sue Gardener, but then when he started doin' the diggin' it seemed she didn't exist until four years ago. No birth certificates that matched, nothing and for sure no police records.

'So. She don't break the law' Hutch said weakly.

'Yeah, my initial thoughts too, till Michaelson pointed out that everyone has some sort of record. An' it got me thinkin'.'

'Now hold on Cap'n. I may not be firin' on all thrusters right now, but if my girl didn't have a criminal record, why check further?'

'Hutch, she tried to kill you. Why are ya getting' all defensive son?' Dobey said gently. 'I did what any good cop would do when they were lookin' for a lead. I started doing some digging and apparently Sue Gardner's tax returns said she was Chief Executive for Western Electronics. The name rang a bell but for a while I couldn't think where I'd heard the name.'

'Western Electronics? Yeah, rings all sorts of bells with me to' the blond agreed.

Dobey nodded and continued. 'Yeah, it would. So finally I remembered and I pulled James Gunther's records and turned up that he had a daughter – Susan.'

'Oh my god! The little bitch! How could I have been so fuckin' stupid' Hutch said, trying to sit himself up in the bed. The black man pushed him back down without too much effort.

'You weren't to know. How could you have known about that?' Dobey asked.

'I should've known. That bastard Gunther can get at us even from jail. He….he..' Hutch closed his eyes, his head suddenly pounding as he thought back to that day in another room near the ICU in Memorial Hospital. Starsky lying, pale and almost fatally wounded in the bed, gastro intestinal tube passing from nose to stomach, oxygen cannula feeding the life giving gas into his body. It had been two days since his friend had woken up and Starsky was still incredibly weak and by no means out of the woods, but Hutch had been on a roll, having gotten the print outs on Gunther Industries from the computer buffs at the Metro. He'd come rushing into the ward, tapping insistently on the glass observation window of the brunet's room to be rewarded by a sly smile and a flash of indigo eyes as Starsky's nurse protested and threatened to bring in security.

That day had been ingrained in Hutch's memory as the day he started to get his partner back; the day that Starsky started to fight his way back to health. Hutch had hated the feelings of uselessness he'd experienced at seeing the brunet so badly injured and being able to do nothing to help. But once he'd gotten the lead to James Gunther he'd been on the next plane out of LAX to arrest the murderer and had taken great delight in bending the white haired tycoon over the huge mahogany desk to cuff him and read him his rights.

It seemed ironic now that the same sort of hospital room that he'd explored his first lead to Gunther in should now bear witness to the breakthrough in finding the brunet once again and Hutch started to struggle on the bed determined to get up and leave.

'Where is she? Where's that fuckin' little bitch. I wanna see her' he croaked huskily, trying to disengage himself from Dobey's strong hands.

Dobey struggled with him for a moment. Although still recovering from the poison and weak from lack of food, Hutch was fuelled by his anger and his desire to see Sue face to face. The chane in the blond was good, but far too soon. He tried desperately to get up from the bed, and managed to swing his legs over the side of the mattress, bending double to ease the waves of nausea that washed over him.

'Hutchinson, what the hell are ya doin'?' the Captain thundered.

'I gotta go see her. That bitch knows where my partner is an' I'm gonna….ggggonna….oh shit.' Hutch's struggles were stopped abruptly as he started to cough and at the same time vomit, the results being bright red and stained with blood. The blond clutched at his chest and stomach and would have toppled head first from the bed had it not been for Dobey's "Mom" manoeuvre as his arm shot out to grab the cop round his waist.

Gently the Captain eased Hutch back onto the bed and as the blond gasped and panted for breath Dobey pressed the medic call button. Within minutes the room was stuffed with nurses, orderlies and doctors all surrounding the bed. Checks were performed, tests carried out and sedatives pumped into the port in the drip feed attached to the back of the blond's hand until after ten minutes of frantic activity, Hutch was once again sleeping and the doctor turned red faced to Dobey.

'When I said he needed rest I meant rest, not pumped up into hysteria!' he said sternly and fixed Dobey with such a glare that the Captain felt like a little boy being told off by his Daddy.

'I um….I didn't…..'

'Well let that be a lesson. His stomach still needs to recover from the poison. He needs time to get over his maltreatment and he doesn't need this. Now out. Get out of the room and don't come back until you have my permission.'

Dobey opened his mouth to make a retort, but the doctor was more fierce than the Captain and, suitably mollified, the black man took a last look at the blond in the bed and left.

The doctor turned back to his patient, making final checks before he left the blond to his sleep, although he seemed to be unable to find true rest. Hutch was once more dreaming, but his dreams now were taking a distinctly dark turn. He was back on the beach again, but now, as he tried to swim out to grab a hold of his partner, Starsky simply waved at him weakly, smiled sadly and allowed himself to be carried further out to sea. As the nurse continued to sponge his face with a cool cloth, Hutch moaned Starsky's name time after time, his head tossing against the pillow.

'Starsk, don't leave me. I'm close, don't go. Hang on.' Because deep down, the flaxen haired cop seemed sure that this time his partner was dying.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It had been a long, cold and painful night for the brunet. For some time after Danny had gone he lay unconscious on the floor, the pains and weakness having finally claimed him. In the time that he was dreaming, he could see Hutch in the distance and he tried desperately to reach for the big blond. With Hutch he felt better. With the blond cop at his side, Starsky felt invincible, as though he could take on every flake in the world and beat them all hands down. With Hutch there, he could get through this, endure the pain and come out the other side. If only the girl would come back, or send someone to find him.

The floor was hard digging into his ribs, spine and chest but Starsky had little strength left to move. During the long cold dark hours of the night, he'd woken periodically, aware of noises in the fabric of the building. The concrete groaned and the wooden fixtures creaked and sang as they contracted in the cooler air. With each sound, the brunet flinched, imagining that maybe Mutt and Jeff, or Sue might be on their way back to offer him the coupe de grace. There were long periods when he wished someone would finish him. The loneliness and the quiet of the apartment block seemed to leach away any faith he had in anyone finding him alive and more than once he'd called out Hutch's name into the dark, wishing he could see the golden face one more time.

Towards morning, his fever took a stronger hold and shudders wracked his body as he writhed weakly against them. The poison he'd been fed had set up some sort of irritant in his gut and the pains still roiled around his insides, but they were now accompanied by a deep, agonising pain in his back, centred on his kidneys. Although he felt as though he needed desperately to go, on the occasions he managed to wrestle with the zip on his jeans, he'd managed to force out only a few drops, each tinted darkly with blood.

Breathing too was becoming an issue and a deep, bubbling cough had started to make its presence felt in his chest. Try as he might to quell it, Starsky had fits of coughing which left him completely exhausted and which plunged him once again into unconsciousness, the pains from moving his jaw doing nothing to help his problems.

Dawn came, sending pale tendrils of cool light into the room and with the light came a flicker of new hope. Starsky had made it through another night and in the light of day, his problems seemed to diminish slightly as his ever optimistic spirit took over, sending his desperation flying away with the darkness. Maybe someone would come to the building today. Maybe he could hold on just a little longer.

A few blocks away, Danny got into her school clothes and while her Mom was busy showering and getting ready for work, the little girl set about getting some things together. She had no intention of going back to the school. The man she'd found was far more fun than Mrs Imada's math class and although he'd scared her when he'd knocked the water cup from her hand, she felt that maybe that was just his way. Not everyone liked water, did they? She hated it. She liked soda better and so she raided her fridge, the cupboards and the sofa and stuffed everything into her backpack and called goodbye to her Mom.

By 9:00 that morning, Starsky was feeling the effects of having had nothing to drink for the past 24 hours. His tongue seemed to have swollen to twice it's size inside his moth and when he tried to move it, to swill it around his dry, cut lips, it felt like sandpaper. Another shiver ran through his body and he moaned low in his throat. Moaning somehow felt good. It reminded him that he was still alive and that he might yet have a chance of being rescued. It was good to hear another human voice, even if it was his own, but now, he braced himself, hearing footfalls coming down the corridor towards his room. Hoping against hope that this was rescue and not the flakes come back to beat up on him again, the brunet raised his head an inch or so from the floor and tried to cry out. His voice, however had dried away to almost nothing and his jaw had stiffened during the night so that it barely opened. Starsky closed his eyes in frustration, opening them again a moment later as someone came into the room.

Danny knelt down by the side of the curly haired cop and smiled at him. He didn't look quite so scary in the morning light and solemnly she regarded him.

'Hi, I came back' she said unnecessarily.

'Ungh' Starsky moaned, unable to get out a single comprehensible word from between his broken jaw. He raised his right hand weakly however and made a small waving motion to let the girl know that he was glad she was back.

Unfazed by the lack of communication and having enough words for the both of them, Danny started to unpack her backpack and lay out it's contents on the floor. First out of the bag was a large fluffy cushion that she usually kept on her bed. It had a picture of Spiderman on it and it was her favourite, but now she showed it to the injured cop.

'I brought this. You looked kinda uncomfortable. Want me to put it under your head for ya Mister….I mean Dave. It's comfy. I have it on my bed at home, but you can share it for a while if ya like. Would ya like that?'

Without pausing for an answer, Danny gently put her small hand under Starsky's head and helped him raise it so that she could tuck the cushion underneath. The brunet rested his head against the soft material with a small sigh. It was the first time in over a week that he'd had any comfort at all, and absurdly, he felt a tear trickle out of the corner of his eye.

'..nks' he managed to force out of his mouth.

Danny grinned at him and carried on, happy that the man seemed to like her gifts.

'Ya didn't seem to like the water yesterday. but that's cool. I hate water too. It don't taste of nuthin. I like pop better, but your mouth still looks sore so I brought ya this too. D'ya want a popsicle Dave?' Danny asked, pulling the small ice drink out of her bag like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat.

The cop eyed the ice with hungry eyes, his body shuddering in anticipation of the coldness on the back of his throat and as Danny tore off the wrapper, he reached weakly for it and greedily forced it between his smashed lips to taste the sweet fluid. Nothing had ever tasted so good in his whole life, not even the most expensive meal in the best restaurant in California could beat the liquid luxury trickling down his parched throat and Starsky closed his eyes in bliss, feeling the ice revive him like nothing else could.

Weak as he was, the brunet managed to suck on the popsicle for over a minute before the task of holding it to his mouth became to great and his right hand dropped to the ground with a sigh.

'Don't you want any more?' the little girl asked.

'S….gud' Starsky managed to say, although talking seemed almost too energetic for him at that moment.

'Yeah, they're my favourites too' Danny prattled on. 'I'm gonna look after ya Dave, coz you're hurt. I brought all the stuff and I can help' she continued.

Starsky concentrated. He needed to let her know that he had to get to Hutch. He needed to get her to get him some help, even though he didn't really want her to go away either.

Carefully he formed the words and forced them out through his damaged jaw. 'Hut…ch……need 'Utch' he gasped, taking a hold of Danny's wrist. She studied him for a moment.

'What's a hutch?' she asked. 'I brought you these. You're bleedin' and Mom always uses these when I fall and hurt myself.' The little girl held out a Band-Aid. With her tongue sticking out in concentration, Danny took a moment in peeling off the wrapper and the paper from the back of the dressing and very carefully, she fixed it over one of the cuts on Starsky's face, patting it down gently at the edges. She sat back, obviously pleased with the result. The brunet grunted, touched by the child's consideration and care, but still needing to make her understand.

'Frrrrennnnd 'Utsssh. Neeeed t'tell him I'm heeeeeere' he mouthed slowly.

Danny sat back and listened. 'But I'm you're friend. You don't need no-one else' she said shyly. 'I can look after ya Dave. I can. See. I even drew you a picture.' Danny took a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and opened it for Starsky to see. It showed her and the brunet standing hand in hand with a big red flower by the side. As she handed it to him, Starsky's hand shook.

'Ccccrayon?' he asked hesitantly and as Danny gave him a red crayon, he scrawled the Metro's number on the back of the picture.

'Hutsssch' he managed to mumble before his strength gave out and he drifted back to sleep.