Chapter Thirteen

Hutch's dragged his face away from the empty space his partner had been only a second before, shutting his eyes tightly, not wanting to look over, not wanting to see what he was sure he'd find.

"Oh, God. STARSKY!..." The deep guttural cry tore from his throat as the two officers joined him.

In shock and grief he balled his fist together. "Star-sky! Starsk! Noooo…" he wailed as uncontrollable sobs shook his entire body.

The knuckles on his clenched fists turned white as tears poured from his eyes quickly staining the cement beneath his cheek where he collapsed as he repeated Starsky's name over and over again.

One of the officers knelt beside the grief stricken man while the other leaned over the edge to confirm what they all knew had just happened.

The shocked words that came out of the officer's mouth were the last anyone expected. "Oh my God! He's still there!"

Hutch's head snapped up.

"He's still there!"

Hutch literally dragged his body to the edge and looked over. He gasped at what he saw.

Starksy had somehow managed to grab onto an ornamental cornice jutting out from the side of the building below them while his feet where balanced on the lip of a very narrow ledge.

"Starsky!"

Relief was followed with renewed terror and in a second Hutch's upper torso was over the side of the building, stretching his long arm out towards him, but couldn't quite reach him.

His partner clung to the side of the building, almost catatonic with fear.

Hutch shimmied over the edge a little further.

"Detective, stop! You'll fall!"

"Hold my legs, damnit. Hold my legs!"

The officers pinned him down as Hutch stretched his torso, extending it out further as both arms reached towards his partner. His fingertips brushed the top of one of Starsky's hands.

"Starsk! Grab my hand! Grab my hand!"

The curly haired man remained unresponsive, paralyzed in fear as he clung to the chunk of protruding cement.

"Starsky! Starsky!"

Hutch was practically screaming at him.

Finally the curly head looked up in shock.

"Grab my hand, buddy! Grab my hand!"

Starsky's face was white, his eyes dilated in fear.

"I-I can't…I'll fall!"

Hutch strained towards him but still couldn't quite reach him. He shouted over his shoulder. "Lower me down further!"

The officers straining to keep the cop from going over as well were able to give him a few more inches.

Hutch was able to grab Starsky by his left wrist. The long fingers closed around the blood soaked limb in a vice like grip, just as Starsky's feet, precariously balanced on the thin strip of ledge, slipped.

Suddenly all one hundred sixty-five pounds of solidly packed man dropped. Hutch felt his back muscles pull with the sudden downward jerk as Starsky's also lost his hold on the cornice.

Now dangling, with Hutch only holding him by the wrist, the brunet looked down and gasped at the five-story drop below. In a panic, he started to struggle.

Hutch grunted under the straining force then to his horror felt his grip slipping as his partner twisted about.

"Starsky! Starsky! Stop struggling!"

But he wasn't listening, still caught up in his panic, grabbing, clawing and kicking in the air.

The veins on Hutch's neck and face felt ready to explode while his shoulders felt like they were being ripped from their sockets under the panicking throes.

"Starsky, calm down! You need to calm down."

Starsky's right hand managed to grab onto the cornice again, but it was a feeble, weak hold at best.

"No! Grab my arm, Starsky! Grab my arm!"

He clung to the cornice. "No…I can't…"

Hutch's fingers slipped down Starsky's wrist a little further, the blood covering his partner's arm combined with his own sweat making the skin slippery. His could feel his own fear starting to overwhelm him.

"Babe, you've got to! I don't know how much longer I can hold on!"

"M'gonna fall!" Starsky screamed in a panic.

"Please, buddy, you need to do it. Grab my hand! Grab it!"

Terrified eyes looked up into the intense pale blue ones of the blond. In them he saw the man's own terror, but also a fierce determination. The fingers closed around his wrist and palm shook under the strain but somehow they transmitted strength and unity between the two. But he was scared, terrified.

Hutch knew he couldn't hold on much longer, knew at any minute Starsky was going to slip out of his fingers and plunge to his death.

"Starsky, you've got to trust me!" he desperately pleaded. "Trust me!"

And suddenly those two words were all Starsky needed to hear as something deep inside him came alive. His eyes locked on the blond and without further thought or hesitation he just let go of the cornice and reached up and grabbed the other man's arm.

Ignoring the searing pain in his ribs and his injured arm Starsky started pulling himself up towards this man, to something he knew was true and good and solid.

Hutch tightened his grip as he felt Starsky move and once more find his footing on the narrow lip of the ledge again.

"That's it buddy. That's it."

While Starsky was balanced on the ledge, Hutch re-enforced his hold.

"Don't let me go," Starsky pleaded in both fear and pain.

"I won't, babe. I won't, I promise!"

Hutch then locked his eyes on his best friend. "We can do this, Starsky. Together, understand? Me and thee."

Starsky nodded, his eyes never leaving his face. Digging into the last of his reserves, he clung to Hutch and nodded.

"Pull us up! Pull us up!" Hutch shouted.

The two officers grabbed Hutch by the belt and shoulders and started pulling while Hutch used every ounce of his upper body strength to hang onto to his partner.

Starsky fought the burning pain in his ribs and arm, as he clung to the blond with all he had and tried to use his legs against the side of the wall to help push himself up. Blotchy spots swam across his vision and he could feel the last reserve of his strength giving out just as his head cleared the roof. Hands were grabbing him by the back of his shirt, under the armpits, pulling him the rest of the way, scrapping his chest, torso and ribs against the sharp edge of the roof as he was finally hauled to safety.

Hutch pulled his partner into his arms, gripping him tightly about the shoulders.

He was panting heavily. "I've got you, buddy. I've got you."

Starsky's whole body was shaking against him, a combination of pain, sheer exhaustion, and fear, which only matched the trembling of his own as he sat, legs sprawled out with Starsky draped across him.

Starsky's uninjured arm weakly wrapped around his waist as the curly head collapsed into his chest. For a while all Hutch could do was just hang on to him tightly, his own fear of what had nearly happened overwhelming him.

"We've got an ambulance on the way, Detective," one of the officers said.

Hutch nodded, unable to speak at the moment, unable to do anything except draw his partner closer to him and bury his head into the matted curls.

Oh, god. Oh, god. I almost lost you!

At last he loosened his grip enough to allow Starsky's head to slide down into the crook of his arm so he could exam him. His partner's face was covered in sweat and grim, cuts and bruises.

The indigo blue eyes fluttered open, just mere slits of glazed color.

"Hutch?" The voice was weak, almost an incoherent whisper but the sound of his name on his partner's lips again was golden.

He held him tightly. "Yeah, buddy. It's me," he choked back.

Starsky grimaced in pain. "'S'hurts."

Hutch cupped the side of his partner's face, his fingers threading into the curls. "I know. Take it easy buddy. Help is on the way."

A trembling bloody hand reached up towards him, seeking comfort but fell weakly back. Hutch reached down and grabbed it. Starsky's eyes locked on his briefly before he let out a moan and passed out.

When the medics arrived, Hutch reluctantly released his burden but remained close as Starsky was quickly assessed, then gently placed onto a stretcher. He helped transport him down the five flights of stairs, onto a gurney and to a waiting ambulance.

A small crowd had formed and as the injured man was loaded inside. Hutch, without hesitation, pushed passed the onlookers and followed his partner.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to ride up front."

Hutch shook his head. "No way. We're a packaged deal."

Without bothering to wait for an answer, he climbed in and positioned himself on the bench seat next to Starsky's head, pushing himself into the corner so he wouldn't be in the way of the reluctant paramedic that climbed in behind him, but where he could easily reach out and maintain contact with his partner.

"Everything's going to be okay, Starsk. Everything's going to be okay," he repeated.

Huggy, who had witnessed the whole terrifying event from the street below, stood outside the ambulance and told Hutch he'd take care of the Torino.

~S/H~

Some four hours later, Hutch sat in a hard plastic chair in a curtained off little cubicle in the ER Ward at Memorial waiting for the doctor to return. Starsky's wounds had already been cleaned and dressed and he'd been put through a myriad of test. All Hutch was doing now was sitting and waiting for the results.

For the hundredth time since his partner had been brought in, Hutch assessed the still figure lying in the bed next to him.

An IV line had been inserted into Starsky's right hand and was slowly dripping clear fluid into the vein, while a monitor kept track of his heart rate and pulse from leads hooked up to his chest. A small probe clipped to his finger kept track of his oxygen saturation. All standard procedures for an unconscious trauma patient, he'd been told.

A bandage was wrapped around Starsky's upper arm where the bullet had grazed his bicep. Another smaller dressing was affixed to the back of his head, covering the five stitches needed to suture up the gash just above and behind his partner's left ear. Unfortunately it had required part the curls to be shaved off, something Hutch knew was really going to piss Starsky off when he finally woke up.

It addition to that, his partner had a variety of scraps, abrasions and bruises all over his body, the worst being over his rib cage which Hutch had seen for the first time when they'd cut Starsky's shirt off. The huge ugly bruise angrily flanked the better part of one side of his ribcage. It was no wonder Starsky had passed out once Hutch had gotten him safely back up on the roof. It must have been a miracle his partner had been able to hang on and even help leverage himself up between his injured arm and ribs.

Luckily in the ER staff's haste to treat his partner when they'd arrived, they hadn't sacrificed Starksy jeans, like they had done his shirt. Hutch had them safely in his possession in a plastic bag, along with the blue Adidas sneakers, belt, socks and underwear. The only thing missing this time, Hutch thought in irony, was the watch as he thought back to Bellamy and the poisoning and the last time he'd sat in the hospital waiting for his partner to wake up.

Starsky's watch and wallet were currently in the Torino after they'd been confiscated from Levi, along with the leather jacket. Starsky's badge, however, Hutch had kept with him and was now tucked in his front left pocket of his shirt, close to his heart.

Since Starsky had passed out on the roof, he had remained unconscious and after four hours, Hutch was starting to worry. Though he tried to convince himself that it was just sheer exhaustion from the ordeal his partner had endured, he knew head injuries could be tricky things and he was concerned about more serious complications.

As Hutch waited for the doctor to return he periodically adjusted the blankets about Starsky's chest, knowing how much his friend hated to be cold. Or he'd would reached over and rubbed the back of his partner's hand, the physical contact as much a comfort to himself as it was for his partner, the scare of what nearly happened still too fresh and raw in his mind.

Finally the curtain parted and the ER doctor stepped in. Hutch rose from the hard plastic chair, his strained muscles protesting, as Dr. Siegel stepped over to his patient.

The doctor lifted both of Starsky's lids and with a penlight checked his pupils then did a complete neurological exam, testing various reflexes before finally nodding with satisfaction.

Unfortunately Dr. Franklin, the chief medical doctor for the ER and the one who had treated Starsky during the poisoning, wasn't on that evening. In general, Hutch tended to be leery of most doctors, finding them to be pompous and arrogant, with little true sympathy towards their patients. He knew it was mostly a personal bias relating back to his father and his own dislike of hospitals in general, but he just couldn't help it, especially when it came to matters of his partner. But Dr. Franklin knew them both well and at least Hutch had a rapport established with him.

Dr. Siegel was new, and guessed he'd only been out of his residency a few years. After Starsky had been initially examined, Hutch had spent a significant amount of time explaining what had happened, and of Starsky's confusion in thinking he was Rudy Skyler, wanting to make sure he had all the facts and clearly understood the situation. The last thing he wanted was for Starsky to be traumatized any more.

"How is he doc?" he asked when Siegel finished his exam.

"Mr. Starsky has a moderate concussion and several bruised badly ribs, no fractures though, which is good. The wound to his arm isn't too serious and shouldn't cause any permanent damage. In addition to that, he also has numerous scraps and abrasions and what appear to be some bite marks on his arms."

"Bite marks?

Dr. Siegel nodded. "Rats most likely if he'd been wandering around in back alleys as you said. The city is full of them. A real problem for our indigent patients."

Hutch grimaced.

Rats! The thought made Hutch sick.

"We've cleaned all the wounds thoroughly, but as a precaution we'll keep him on antibiotics for a few days."

"What about the concussion? He hasn't regained consciousness since he was brought in."

"I'm not surprised. From what you described happened to your partner and with the size lump on his head, frankly I'm surprised he was still able to walk around."

Hutch smiled. "He's got a thick skull."

"Lucky for him."

"He's g-going to be okay though?"

"Yes, with proper rest. I think so. The tests and the neurological exams we've been doing look good. We'll know more for sure once he wakes up and we can evaluate his cognitive level. We'll need to admit him upstairs for close observation, but he is stable at the moment detective."

Hutch sighed in relief.

The doctor then looked at the tired, exhausted lines around the detective's face. "There's really nothing more you can do for your partner at the moment, Detective Hutchinson. Why don't you go home and get some rest and we'll notify you when he wakes up."

"I prefer to stay."

"As you wish," he said contritely.

The doctor didn't argue back. He'd already experienced enough of the detective's stubbornness earlier when the patient was first brought in. The tall cop had insisted, or rather demanded, to remain with his partner rather than forced out into the waiting room. After some heated words had been exchanged, the doctor had finally relented when it became apparent the officer was willing to pull his superiors in and to take his fight to a higher level of authority if necessary.

The fact of the matter was Hutch wasn't about to let Starsky wake up in a hospital confused and alone among strangers, especially when he realized Starsky had thought he was an escaped mental patient.

The doctor scribbled some notes on a clipboard at the end of the bed. "As soon as a room is available, we'll move him upstairs."

The physician disappeared and Hutch returned to his partner's side. "See that, Starsk? You're going to be all right. You just need to get some beauty sleep."

Hutch leaned over the bed and took Starsky's hand in his own again, being careful not to jar the IV. He examined the various scratches up and down his partner's arm before his eyes settled on the small puncture marks on the inner portion of his forearm. He shuddered again at the idea of rats biting the sensitive flesh while Starsky had probably lain in some filthy dirty alley.

His sigh was long and deep and full of self anger. "I'm sorry, buddy. I'm sorry it took so long to find you."

A nurse walked through the curtain. "Detective Hutchinson?"

Hutch glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"There's a Captain Dobey out in the ER waiting room asking about Mr. Starsky."

"Thanks." He hesitated, not really wanting to leave him alone but knew he needed to update Dobey. He leaned over the bed again, brushing the back of his hand on Starsky's cheek. "Be back in a few minutes, buddy. Don't go away, you hear?"

Hutch thought he saw his partner's forehead crease just a little before it relaxed and grew still.

"Don't worry, we'll watch him," the nurse assured.

Hutch nodded. "Just don't do anything to him until I come back."

The nurse rolled her eyes slightly. "He'll be fine, Detective."

"How's he doing?" Dobey asked when Hutch joined him in the waiting room.

"He's got a concussion and some bruised ribs and he's still unconscious but the doc thinks he'll be okay. We're just waiting on a room upstairs."

Dobey nodded, relieved. He then asked Hutch to give him a brief rundown on what happened. He listened without interrupting. "I'm going to need a full report on my desk as soon as you can get it to me, but for now take what time you need to make sure Starsky's okay."

"Thanks, Cap."

"By the way, we got a match on the prints off the pipe found in the alley. They belong to a Henry Wallace. Name ring any bells?"

Hutch shook his head.

Dobey showed him a police mug picture. The man clearly was not one the three that had chased Starsky into the building. This man looked to be in his early thirties with dark wavy hair and thick sideburns. Hutch didn't recognize him.

"He's got a few assault priors. A real hot head, according to his file. We put an APB out on him already."

"Run this picture by the Pits. See if Huggy or Anita recognize him as one of the two drunks that had been causing trouble at the bar earlier."

Dobey nodded.

"What about Detective Marcello?" Hutch then asked

"He's going to be all right. Came out of surgery a little while ago. We're still trying to piece everything together."

"He said the man who tried to kill me was his partner."

Dobey nodded. "Used to be, six years ago. Sergeant Tony Luciana. They worked out of Captain Eaton's old precinct, the Sixteen, until Luciana got caught taking bribes and removing evidence. Ended up doing three years on an assault and battery of a witness. Ruined his career."

"What's his connection with Starsky though?"

"We're still trying to figure that one out. It's a hell of a mess. Marcello's still in recovery and so is the suspect shot in the shoulder. The other one we booked at the moment still isn't talking. From what I got from Johansen, Marcello's partner though, he said Luciana and the murdered man they were investigating, Tommy Maas, had apparently known each other from a halfway house after both got paroled. Luciana's name came up on a routine background check of Maas. The name struck a familiar cord with Johansen but he didn't make the connection with him being Marcello's former partner until after he'd seen a picture of the two of them in Marcello's desk. Right now I.A.'s all over this one. If it turns out Marcello was somehow involved with Luciana or was trying to hide evidence on Maas' murder, it'll probably cost him his badge at the very least."

Hutch tried to digest all the information, but found it difficult between his own exhaustion and his worry over Starsky.

"Look, don't worry about any of this right now," Dobey said. "Just take care of your partner, Hutchinson. That's the only thing that's important right now."

Hutch nodded, grateful to Dobey for his understanding.

~S/H~

When Hutch returned to the ER ward, he immediately became aware of a commotion coming from behind the curtain where his partner was located.

He pushed it aside to see two orderlies pinning Starsky down, while a third was busy applying restraints.

Starsky's eyes were wide open, terrified as he thrashed wildly in the bed, arching his back and twisting his torso. Blood dripped from his hand were the needle had apparently been yanked out. The IV pole which had stood next to the bed was now tipped over and propped against the wall.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hutch demanded.

"Stay out of the way, sir!"

"The hell I will!" Hutch pushed his way in between two of the orderlies.

"We need to restrain him, sir. He's out of control!"

"Get away from him!"

He pushed one of the orderlies aside to see Starsky fully awake, his eyes dilated and his nostrils flaring in fear. Hutch immediately placed his hands on his partner's chest, bringing his face into Starsky's line of vision

"Starsk. It's me! It's me! Hutch. Take it easy, buddy. Take it easy."

He read the sheer panic in the indigo blue eyes as Starsky twisted and strained against the restraints and the hands holding him down, the veins in his neck bulging from the effort.

"Babe, calm down, please."

"Let go of me! Let me go!" Starsky pulled at the bindings, his breathing rapid. The heart monitor he was still hooked up to at the bedside was now moving in quick jagged peaks showing his accelerated heart rate.

"No! No! Please! Take them off…oh God, no…not again…"

When he couldn't pull free from the restraints, he started to bang his wrists against the metal bars of the bed.

Hutch looked over at the orderlies.

"Take those things off of him! NOW!"

The one closest to him, who had a hold of Starsky lower torso and was sporting a fat lip, shook his head. "We can't do that, sir. It's for his own safety."

A nurse wedged herself between them and before Hutch could stop her, she plunged a needle into Starsky's thigh.

Starsky bucked and cried out at the pain. Tears sprung out of terrified eyes and at once Hutch knew what was happening. "No! No! Stop…oh God…don't…"

He cupped both hands to Starsky's face and leaned in close. Despite his fury, he forced his voice to remain calm as he turned Starsky's head towards his, forcing his eyes to focus only on him.

"Babe, babe. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

He kept repeating the words, trying to maintain eye contact with his partner who continued to writhe in bed as Hutch tried to break through Starsky's fear. "Listen to me, Starsk. You've got to calm down and stop fighting so hard or you'll hurt yourself more."

"No…can't…won't let them…not again…" He was panting hard, practically hyperventilating.

"Please buddy, listen to me. I know you're scared and confused right now but everything's going to be all right. I'm right here and I'm going to fix this. You understand? I'm going to fix all this, but right now what I need you to do is trust me. Just trust me and calm down."

His words started to reach him and Starsky quit bucking so forcefully although his breathing remained rapid and he continued to pull at the restraints.

"Just relax, buddy. That's it, you're doing great. Just listen to me, listen to my voice." Hutch continued to coax and reassure until Starsky finally stopped struggling.

Sweat covered his face and plastered the curls to his forehead. Starsky looked up with scared, confused eyes. "Hutch?"

Hutch wiped the moisture from his brow with his fingers. "Yeah, babe. I'm right here. Right here."

One bound wrist strained towards him through the rails. Hutch grabbed the seeking fingers and he immediately felt Starsky's grip tighten around him.

"I've got you buddy. Just breathe slow and easy for me now, okay?"

He did as Hutch directed until the jagged pants eased to slower, even breaths. Starsky relaxed even more, his heart slowing down to a normal rate and his eyes drooped shut.

Hutch continued the soft strokes until he found it necessary to shift his weight in order to adjust his twisted back. Immediately Starsky's eyes flew open and his hand tightened over Hutch's fingers again.

"Don't go," he pleaded.

Hutch squeezed his hand back. "I'm not going anywhere, babe."

He could see Starsky's eyes beginning to glaze over as the combination of sheer exhaustion and whatever drug they had shot in him started to take affect.

"Don't let them put the gag on, okay? Promise?" He begged in a slurred voice.

"Don't worry, Starsk. No one's going to that."

"I'll try not to scream this time." He whispered before his head lolled to the side.

Hutch flinched, feeling sick.

He stayed by his side until he was sure Starsky was asleep once again. Only then did he slowly extract his hand from Starsky's limp hold and faced the nurse and one of the orderlies who stood close by.

He kept his voice low, but his tone had clearly changed to one laced with icy fury. "Take the restraints off."

The nurse clasped her hands in front of her, her posture stiff, but clearly shaken. "I'm sorry. We can't do that. The patient is combative."

"Correction, he was combative. He's not anymore."

"It's for his own safety, sir. He woke up while we were trying to draw some blood, then yanked his IV line out and tried to get out of bed. He has a head injury, Detective, and is still very confused."

"And I told you before I left not to do anything unless I was here."

"We didn't think it would illicit such a violent response."

"Well obviously it did! Take the restraints off."

"I can't do that."

"Don't you understand?" Hutch tugged at one of them and Starsky frowned. "These are terrifying and confusing him more than they are helping."

"As soon as the doctor is sure he won't be a danger to himself or anyone else, we'll remove them. Until then, I'm afraid they will have to stay in place," the nurse said firmly.

"Then I suggest you go find the fucking doctor and get him in here now or I swear I'll cut these off myself!"

"Very well. If you insist." The nurse looked over at the orderly. "Wait here until I return with the doctor."

The orderly nodded.

A few minutes later Dr. Siegel walked back through the curtain. "What's going on here?"

"I was trying to explain to Detective Hutchinson the necessity of the restraints. The patient woke up disoriented and combative. We didn't have a choice but to physically restrain him for his own safety. We ended up having to medicate him."

The doctor nodded, then stepped over to re-examine his patient. "I'm sure you did what you thought was necessary."

"But he's calm now and I'm here. I want them off," Hutch demanded.

"I don't think that's in the best interest of the patient at the moment."

Hutch reeled on him. "Pardon me, but you obviously don't have one hell of a clue as to what is in the best interest of my partner. I told you when we came in under NO circumstances did I want him physically restrained like this."

"Sometimes we don't have a choice Detective, clearly you can understand this."

"In normal circumstances I might agree, but the situation with my partner is not normal. I explained this to you before if you'd bothered to listen, damnit! My partner is an undercover cop who just came off a heavy assignment. With the concussion and in his confused state, he still thinks he's in Cabrillo as a patient. Restraining him is only going to re-enforce the confusion, not help! I have medical power of attorney over him and I want the restraints off now!"

"You'll be jeopardizing your partner's safety. He could injure himself more."

"I'll take full responsibility." When the doctor's face remained unyielding in his decision, Hutch let out an exacerbated sigh. "Look, doc. I'm not stupid nor am I being careless or irrational in my judgment. I just know my partner and what he's been through. He trusts me and he'll respond to me. I can keep him calm until he gets back his senses."

"You can't be with him twenty-four hours."

"That's where you're wrong. I plan to be right by his side until he wakes up if that's what it takes to keep him from being physically restrained. Now take these off."

Dr. Siegel pursed his lips. "Very well, Detective. We'll try it your way, for now."

Hutch nodded curtly barely able to control the simmering fury boiling within him.

The orderly reluctantly began to remove the restraints. Starsky started to stir. His wrists twitched, his brows creasing up.

Once they were off, Hutch was instantly by his side taking each wrist in both hands and gently rubbing his thumbs over the red marks. Already he could see the bruises forming on the back of Starsky's hands from where he'd hit them repeatedly up against the metal bars of the bed.

Starsky moved agitatedly about, but as soon as Hutch touched his head and began rhythmically stroking his fingers through the curls as he spoke softly in his ear, his partner began to visibly relax.

Hutch smiled. "That's it, buddy. Just sleep."

The eyes which had been erratically moving beneath the closed lids stilled and he drifted off once again.

The doctor's brow rose slightly. "I see what you mean."

TBC…..

(Don't ya just luv Hutch in Mother Hen Mode, lol. Hope I kinda explained the sub bad guy plot a little bit. This is where my writing skills suck, so I apologize if I'm not very clear – hopefully it will make more sense as I tie the story up)