Thanks everyone for your continued support. I proof-read this a million times but I'm sure I've missed something, so I apologize now for any typos you still might find...hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter Fifteen

Starsky moved the food around on his plate with disgust before finally pushing the tray aside.

"What the hell is keepin' that quack? I wanna go home!"

Hutch, sitting in the chair next to him grinned, glad to see Starsky finally acting, well…acting more like Starsky.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, buddy."

"Not soon enough!" He slumped back in bed pouting, then grimaced as the movement shot pain through the lump on his head. He reached up and felt the bandage, scowling heavily at the patch of missing hair.

Hutch knew what his partner was thinking. "It'll grow back, Starsk."

"Why the hell did they have'ta cut it though?"

"They needed to sew up the big gash in your head dummy."

Starsky snorted. He closed his eyes and suddenly he became stoically silent and at once Hutch new his partner's headache was reaching an intolerable level again.

"Pain pretty bad right now?"

"It's only up to one jackhammer at the moment."

Hutch glanced at his watch. It had been three hours and forty-eight minutes since Starsky's last dose of pain medication. "Should be able to get something for you soon, buddy."

Starsky nodded, but kept his eyes closed.

Hutch got up and adjusted the shades on the window, dimming the room as much as possible, knowing the glare was probably aggravating Starsky's headache more. He had already turned the overhead light off above his partner's bed earlier.

A few minutes later, the nurse walked in. She was a petite brunette. "Time to take your vital signs again, David."

Starsky cracked his eyes open with a sigh. "I can already tell you the results. I'm alive."

She laughed.

After taking his blood pressure and pulse, a thermometer was stuck in his mouth.

"I'll be back in three minutes," she said.

Starsky waited one minute before impatiently reaching up to take the thermometer out of his mouth.

"Leave that in there!" Hutch told him.

"I'm fine," he tried to mouth around the glass instrument.

"Stop talking and keep your mouth shut."

Starsky scowled back.

The nurse returned promptly after the required time and withdrew the thermometer. "Hmmmm…100.1. You still have a bit of a fever. I'll have to let the doctor know."

Starsky's scowl deepened. During the middle of the night he'd spiked a low grade temperature the staff was keeping an eye on, something that concerned Hutch as well knowing his partner had probably spent several hours lying unconscious in dirty, filthy alleys with rats and open wounds.

"Anything under 101 shouldn't count," Starsky groused making the nurse grin again. He then grimaced.

"It's been almost four hours. Can he get something for the pain?" Hutch asked.

She nodded and returned a few minutes later with the prescribed medication.

About forty minutes later the pain pills started to kick in. They didn't take the pain away completely, but dulled it enough to keep Starsky from flinching with every sound or glare of light.

Having taken care of Starsky before with a concussion, though admittedly not this sever, Hutch knew his partner would probably have the lingering headaches for a while and it was just one of those things he'd have to grin and bare.

At least a good chunk of Starsky's memory had come back and he no longer thought he was Rudy Skyler. However, he still wasn't quite able to piece the events back together completely after he'd left the Pits. He still couldn't tell Hutch who had initially attacked him, nor was he able to remember quite how'd he'd come to wake up in the hospital. Hutch had filled him in briefly but had skimmed over the details about what happened on the roof. He figured his partner had been through enough.

The only thing Hutch did know for sure was Starsky wanted to go home. The curly haired man hated hospitals, hated everything about them.

Hutch empathized with him.

After the half eaten tray was taken away, it became necessary for Starsky to take care of some needed business. By outright stubbornness he refused the indignity of using the bed side urinal again as the nurses ordered and insisted on getting up. Hutch helped him out of bed, steadying him when as soon as he stood up he pitched sideways.

Starsky wrapped an arm around is badly bruised ribs as he slowly but somewhat urgently made his way to the bathroom. Hutch guided him, then kept one hand on him to steady him while Starsky did what he needed to do before Hutch escorted him back bed.

Starsky didn't protest the assistance.

Over the years both had taken care of each other enough on various occasions that neither felt particularly modest or prideful in accepting help from the other when it was needed. It was just another nonverbal extension of their friendship, business as usual between the two.

Back in bed it took Starsky a while to find a comfortable position that didn't press on the lump to his head, jar his bandaged arm or twist his bruised ribs.

There was a knock on the door and a second later it swung open and to both the detectives' surprised faces, Dr. Franklin walked in.

The tall lanky physician with a long horse-like face and glasses that had previous treated Starsky for the poisoning greeted them both sternly. "Well, Detective Starsky, Detective Hutchinson. I see we are back and causing trouble again?"

"Heya, doc," Hutch greeted.

"Where's Dr. Siegel?" Starsky asked. "I've been waiting for him all morning!"

"I've taken over your case from Dr. Siegel, Mr. Starsky. It appears, Detective Hutchinson, was a bit too intimidating for him."

Starsky had to grin at that. "I can only imagine! So does that mean you're here ta write my ticket out of here?"

"Not quite, Mr. Starsky. There's still a little matter of a concussion we need to monitor, and a bit of a fever to deal with first."

"I'm fine," the injured man insisted.

"We'll see about that," was the stern and unmoving reply.

Dr. Franklin then went about doing a complete neurological exam on him. Starsky flinched when Franklin shined a penlight in both his eyes, but stoically, or rather stubbornly Hutch was sure, remained quiet.

"How's your memory doing this morning?"

"A lot better. Still splotchy in a few places, but good enough to get out of here."

"And your vision? Still blurred or split?"

"No," Starsky lied and Hutch gave him a warning look. "Okay, well, maybe just a little."

The doctor held up two fingers a short distance away. "How many fingers do you see?"

Starsky squinted then scowled as if he couldn't tell initially before replying. "Two."

Dr. Franklin nodded. "You're coming along fine, Mr. Starsky. You should be able to go home in a couple more days."

"DAYS!"

"You are running a slight fever, Detective, with a moderate concussion. We still need to keep you under observation and on IV antibiotics until you are afebrile for twenty-four hours."

"It was barely over a hundred," he whined.

"Which is still a fever."

"But…"

Dr. Franklin held up his hand and let out a tired sigh. "Mr. Starsky, let's not be difficult about this. You and I both know I'm not going to release you until I deem you fit, not matter how much you protest."

"He's right, Starsk."

Starsky glared at his partner. "Whose side are you on?"

"And you, Detective Hutchinson, are going home tonight."

"Huh?"

Again the physician put up his hand. "You're partner is stable and clearly back in his right frame of mind, so for tonight when visiting hours end, I am officially banning you from the hospital."

"Now wait a minute," Hutch began to protest but was interrupted.

"And don't even think about arguing with me or I'll notify your captain." His face was stern and clearly set. "Go home and get some rest, Detective. Frankly you look almost as bad as your partner."

Hutch clamped his mouth shut, fully aware Franklin was using the same leverage he'd used earlier to force the staff to allow him to stay with Starsky when he was out of it.

Dr. Franklin grinned at the sour expressions on both men's faces. "Cheer up, detectives. This is for both your own goods. But I'll make a deal with you, Mr. Starsky. If your temperature stays below 100 tonight, I'll consider sending you home sometime tomorrow on oral antibiotics as long as someone will be there to monitor you at home for a few days until you get your equilibrium back."

"I'll be there," Hutch assured.

"I don't doubt it," was the doctor's reply.

"I'll take that deal and make you stick to it doc!" Starsky said.

"I don't doubt that either. Now gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients in this hospital to attend to." With that Dr. Franklin left.

Starsky slumped back in bed, clearly annoyed.

"Cheer up, buddy. It's only another day or so."

"I guess." He sighed.

"Why don't you try and take a nap, Starsk?"

"Kinda hard with this damn headache."

"I know."

Starsky looked at his partner. "You know, Franklin is right. You look like crap, Blintz. You should go home. Ya don't have'ta stay."

"I know that too. But if it's all the same to you, I-I'd rather stick around."

Starsky heard the stuttered catch in Hutch's voice.

"I'm gonna be fine, Hutch."

"I know."

Starsky didn't push the issue. Again, like always, he seemed to be able to read Hutch much too well, knowing Hutch's reasons for wanting to stay were not just for his peace of mind, but for his own.

Hutch was a natural worrier, but most especially when it came to matters of his partner, but more than that, the events of the last twenty-four hours were still pretty raw.

Eventually Starsky did drift off into a light sleep, but it remained restless, partly from the persistent headache, but partly, Hutch guessed, from haunted dreams that still continued be plague his partner.

The forlorn cry sometime later made Hutch look up from his book. It was followed by mumbled words spoken aloud. "Don't die Reese…I'm sorry…I'm sorry."

Starsky's eyes darted open. For several long seconds he just lay there before swallowing hard, his expression suddenly looking sad, very lost.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?" Hutch asked softly.

"Yeah." Though he tried to hide it as he turned his head away, Hutch didn't miss the sudden glistening in his partner's eyes.

"Starsk? What is it?" he asked gently.

The brunet shook his head.

Hutch set the book aside and moved over and sat down on the bed next to him.

Without words, Starsky rotated his wrist so that his palm was face up. Hutch understood and slipped his hand into the space.

"Want to talk about it?"

Again he shook his head.

"Might help."

Starsky closed his eyes, his fingers wrapping around Hutch's hand as if he were concentrating on the feel of the warm comforting palm encased around his own.

Hutch watched the inner struggle as Starsky attempted not show his vulnerability, to give into the pain of memories still clearly haunting him.

He didn't know if he was exactly doing the right thing, but at the moment, Hutch only wanted to reach out, to offer comfort. "Starsk. I know about Reese."

Starsky swiveled his head towards Hutch. "How?"

"You were kinda out of it for a while there buddy. You were having some flashbacks last night."

Color fused through his friend's cheeks and he tried to look away again.

"Don't." Hutch tugged gently on his partner's hand. "You don't have to do that with me. You know that."

"Do what?"

"Be embarrassed. Shut me out."

"Won't change the past."

"No, but it might ease the hurt."

Starsky swallowed again.

"I'm always here for you to lean on, buddy. There's no shame, no weakness in that. Not between us. Never between us. You know that, right?"

Starsky lifted his dark eyes to the sincere pale blue ones. "I know that, Hutch. And I know I should'a talk ta ya. It's just that some memories are pretty painful."

"I know, Starsk. And you don't have to talk about it if you really don't want to, but if you do, I'm right here, pal. Right here."

Starsky remained silent and Hutch didn't push. He just sat next to his friend and waited. Finally, haltingly Starsky shared the painful memory of his time in Vietnam when his patrol had been captured in an ambush. Two of his friends had been killed in the exchange while he and another young solider had been captured, beaten, drugged off and tortured.

"Reese had only been with our patrol for just a few weeks, fresh outta boot camp. He was kinda a klutz. All arms and legs and two left feet from some dinky little hooky town in the middle of nowhere. Some of the guys kinda made fun of him, razzed him a bit, but he was just a nice kid. A nice kid who drew the short end of the straw and wound up in hell." He sighed. "I don't know why, maybe it was because he kinda reminded me of Nicky when we were young and together, before…" Starsky cleared his throat. "Before my dad was killed, before Nicky changed. I felt kinda protective of him."

Hutch read the pain in his friend's eyes as he spoke about their capture; about the torture done to the young solider while Starsky had been forced to watch, finally being gagged when he wouldn't stop shouting at them. Then afterwards, to bare witness to the young man's suffering death.

"I just wanted him to die, to die and shut up so I didn't have to hear him cryin' no more, hear him pleading with me to help him." Anger, guilt and self loathing laced his voice.

"Starsk, you couldn't have done anything."

"I know that. Just like I knew I couldn't help my dad when he bled to death in my arms."

His voice dropped away for a few minutes.

"Starsk…"

Starsky tried to check his emotions while Hutch's heart ached for his friend's pain.

His voice became low, almost a whisper. "After Reese….died….they just left him there to rot and I knew it would only be a matter of time before I would be next. They would come in every once and a while, but I couldn't see them. By then I'd been blindfolded too. I could only hear them, feel them next to me. One of them came in and taunted me with a knife, threatened to slice my throat before sinking the damn blade into my thigh. After that I don't remember much beyond wakin' up in a mash unit several days later. My Sarge and the rest of my patrol, somehow found us, or rather me."

"Buddy, I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would have pulled us off the Cabrillo case earlier."

The indigo blue eyes shot up. "NO!"

"Starsky…"

"No! There was no way I would have let ya Hutch."

"After the hell you went through Starsky? No one, especially me, would have expected you…"

"I expected me!"

Hutch frowned. "Why, Starsky?"

"Because I couldn't do anything to help Reese, Hutch. And I couldn't do anything to help my dad, but maybe, just maybe I could do something there! To prevent some other wacko from torturing another person."

Hutch was amazed. Amazed by his friend's bravery and tenacity despite the hell, the fear he must have felt.

Starsky looked at Hutch, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sad smile, his eyes glistening. "Guess I just didn't expect it ta come back and hit me that hard after the case." He swallowed, his hand twitching in Hutch's grasp. "Guess that means I'll never be Captain Marvel, huh?"

"Aw…Starsk…." Sensing his partner was about to loose it, Hutch pulled his friend into an embrace. Starsky wrapped his arms gratefully around Hutch's waist. "You're the bravest man I've ever known, Gordo. To be able to face your fears like that, I-I don't think I could have ever done that buddy."

Starsky held onto him, as if grateful to pull from Hutch's strength once again, to feel the strong solid arms about his shoulders. Only into Hutch did Starsky ever drop his guard, and only through Hutch did he seem to find what he needed most to heal his troubled soul. Hutch held onto him for as long as Starsky needed him until he felt his partner stir against him and finally push away.

Hutch released him, but remained sitting on the bed.

Starsky sank back into the pillow, eyes slightly hooded. "Thanks, Hutch."

"Sure, buddy. Anytime. You know that, right?"

Starsky nodded. He then yawned, his eyes starting to droop with exhaustion.

"Why don't you try and go back to sleep for a while, babe. I'll be nearby."

Starsky nodded again and to Hutch's surprise his partner was out like a light within minutes as if a great weight had been finally lifted from his friend's heart.

Hutch smiled, feeling his own heart becoming lighter.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a while just watching Starsky sleep and wondered if his partner really knew just how much of Starsky's own inner strength Hutch drew upon everyday just to keep him sane at times.

Starsky had always been there for him, not just through the big stuff, like his divorce, the heroin, and Gillian, but the everyday crap, some self inflicted, others the result of the toilet bowl they worked in every day, helping pull him out of the dark places he tended to wallow in and easing the inner loneliness he had carried with him most of his life.

That Starsky had needed to pull strength from him today, to lean on him was viewed neither as a burden nor a sign of weakness in his friend, but rather as an honor and a privilege that Hutch felt for the friendship and the trust he shared with this man.

That Starsky would fight his own fears and demons to help someone else never ceased to amaze him, but did not surprise him. It was just Starsky's way.

He watched his partner's features boyishly soften as he drifted off into a deeper, more restful sleep. Smiling fondly at the wild curls framing the sleeping face, Hutch patted his partner's leg. "Your something else, Gordo, you know that?"

~S/H~

Dobey stopped by later in the afternoon. Starsky was still asleep. Not wishing to disturb the injured man's rest, the Captain spoke quietly with Hutch instead, filling him in on more details to the many unanswered questions.

"We finally got a full statement off of Detective Marcello and the two punks working with Luciana."

Dobey explained that Marcello's former partner had met Tommy Maas in a halfway house after they were paroled. Couple of months later Luciana found out Maas was working as a runner for Eddie LaRue. Maas had somehow found out about LaRue's big stakes and the cocaine and he, Luciana and the two others had planned to rip LaRue off while he was having all the trouble with his competition. Only problem was, after the job, Maas took the money and the dope. Luciana was sure he'd double crossed them with someone."

"Who?"

"Unfortunately, Luciana figured it was Starsky after he'd been tipped a cop was staying with Maas' old lady. He thought either Starsky was working undercover or had forced Maas to cut a deal with him instead."

Dobey continued his explanation.

For a while Marcello too had thought both Starsky and Hutch had been working undercover after he'd seen LaRue's case file on Hutch's desk.

The detective had already connected Maas to LaRue and Maas to the hooker. But when Marcello realized Maas and Luciana actually knew each too was the point the detective's old suspicions grew. He'd gone back to the Stardust alone and interviewed a kid that said he'd seen three men hanging around Maas' place a few days before he was killed and one of the descriptions matched his former partner. He had shown the kid a picture of Luciana. The kid ID'd him cold. The final nail in the coffin came back when forensics called Marcello with a match on a latent thumb print in the murdered hooker's apartment and a matching blood type found under the victim's fingernails. It belonged to Luciana.

"Marcello knew then he didn't have a choice, he'd have to bring his old partner in," Dobey told Hutch.

"How did he know Luciana and his goons had gone after Starsky though?"

"He didn't, not at first. He knew his former partner was trying to get back with his ex and was headed over there. He thought maybe he could to talk to Luciana first alone, try and convince him to turn himself in before all the evidence against him hit the fans. When he heard the shots fired call and heard your name over the radio though, he wasn't far away and responded. When he realized you'd gone in alone, he went into help. It was only when he'd seen Luciana's face clearly in the shadows, taking aim at you that he realized Luciana's intent and he knew he didn't have a choice."

In a plea bargain, one of Luciana's partner's, Miguel, Dobey went on, confessed that Luciana had beaten the hooker to death trying to get information out of her and that Trey had killed Maas when Maas tried to get away from them.

Hutch took in the information and tried to digest it.

"It appears Starsky just ended up in the wrong damn place at the wrong time," Dobey said.

"What about the money and the dope?"

"Still haven't figured that one out. What Maas did with it, or if he did have another partner, we just don't know."

"And Wallace, what about him? Where does he fit in to all this?"

"He doesn't appear to be connected with Maas or Luciana, either. His initial attack on Starsky is still a mystery until we can pick him up."

"Great," Hutch replied thinly.

Dobey got up and prepared to leave. Before he departed though, he reached into his vest pocket. "Almost forgot."

He withdrew a crayon drawn picture for Starsky from his eight year old daughter with "Get better Uncle Dave. Love Rosie," scribbled across the bottom.

Hutch smiled as he accepted it. "Tell Rosie I'll be sure 'Uncle Starsky' gets this when he wakes up."

Dobey nodded. For all his gruff exterior, explosive temper and often fisted way he ran his department, deep down Hutch knew the man cared deeply about each of the men under his command, but he and Starsky, the Captain had always held a particular fondness for and considering them akin to family.

"Take care of your partner, Hutchinson."

"I will, Cap. Thanks."

Dobey nodded and left.

Around dinner time, Starsky woke and found to his delight, Hutch had gone down to the cafeteria and snuck him up some real food.

Hutch grinned as Starsky attacked the burrito with zest, glad to see the dark lines around his partner's face not etched so deeply. His partner only frowned slightly when he realized the burrito didn't have jalapeños or hot sauce on it, but was eternally, as Starsky put it so eloquently, that it wasn't "shit on a shingle."

Later Hutch recounted to his partner what Dobey had told him. Starsky listened with amazement. When Hutch asked him if he knew Henry Wallace or remembered anything more about his initial attack, unfortunately Starsky was still drawing a huge blank.

The last thing he could remember before everything got really confusing was digging his keys out of his pocket to his car after leaving the Pits. When he tried to push the memories to return it only made his head hurt.

"Don't stress over it, buddy. It'll come back eventually."

When the overhead page announced the end to visiting hours a few hours later Hutch dutifully, if not reluctantly started to take his leave.

"You sure you're going to be alright Starsk?" Hutch asked, reading the return of discomfort on his friend's face. The nurse had come in just a few minutes prior with another dose of pain pills for Starsky's pounding headache, but it would be a while before they took affect.

The brunet settled down in bed. "I'll be fine, Hutch. Just make sure you bust me out of here tomorrow."

"You bet, buddy."

He paused and gave a little grin before departing.

Before leaving the floor, Hutch stopped at the nurse's station and made sure they had his number just in case his partner needed him, at any time, he emphasized.

Huggy picked him up outside the hospital in the Torino. After dropping Huggy off, Hutch took the Torino back to Venice Place, and once in his apartment promptly collapsed into bed and didn't wake up again until the next morning when his was startled awake by the phone ringing.

It was Dobey calling to inform him they'd picked up Henry Wallace and he was being interrogated by Kauffman and Bristol and that Dobey wanted Hutch to come in.

Hutch told him he'd be there within the hour.

He hopped in the shower and let the hot water spray over his entire body which gave some much needed relief to his twisted back muscles. He got out, toweled off, and then shaved, wincing slightly as the razor rubbed across his bruised cheek where Starsky had punched him the day before. Looking in the mirror, he saw the purple-greenish discoloration now appearing. He'd been lucky Starsky hadn't landed the punch on his nose, for he was sure his partner would have probably broken it. As it was, his cheek and jaw muscles were going to be tender for a few days.

He dressed, wincing a little as he bent his still sore knee into a pair of slacks, before grabbing his holstered magnum, donning a light jacket and heading out the door.

TBC…