CHAPTER 11

The dark-haired man had been dozing when he was awakened by a gurney hitting the edge of his bed.

"What the hell?" He woke with a start, causing the pain to return to his head. He refrained from further complaint once he saw that it was Hutch finally being brought to their room.

The man laying on the gurney was pale and of course silent. Starsky pushed himself further up in bed, wincing as a burning pain crept up his neck into his head. But he wanted to see for himself that Hutch was okay.

The doctor followed his patient into the room. Doing a cursory exam, the medical practitioner was satisfied that Hutch was in stable condition.

"He okay?" Starsky whispered, not because he was afraid to awaken Hutch, but keeping his voice low, lessened the pressure that still pounded against his eyes.

"Stitches, repair of muscle and tendon, rest, he'll be fine." The doctor droned on with technical terms but left soon after.

Now it was Starsky's turn to wait for Hutch to wake up. Several hours had passed since the blond went to surgery. In that time, Starsky was moved to a regular room with assurances that his partner would be brought there after surgery. Starsky could not fathom being in a strange setting without his partner.

Although he was left with a stabbing, constant headache, the doctor had concluded that it was a residual effect of the concussion which would diminish but take time. A repeat head scan did not show any swelling or signs of bleeding so for the time being, Starsky would have to endure the pain since nothing yet seemed to have reduced the throbbing in his head.

At least now he could move without the burning sharpness and flashes of light he'd experienced earlier. Turning, he noticed that Hutch seemed to be struggling to awaken. The after effects of anesthesia always made Hutch disoriented and nervous at first. Starsky gingerly sat further up in the bed and swung his legs over the side, intending to get up and sit with Hutch. He tried to ignore the pain in his head and waited until the dizziness subsided. He hadn't been told not to get up, but he guessed that doing so for the first time alone, wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

Holding on to the night table that sat between their beds, Starsky cautiously shuffled toward Hutch, then sitting heavily beside him on the bed. He tried to breathe evenly through his nose to counteract the spinning room.

Hutch moved his head toward Starsky even though his eyes were still closed. Starsky reached to stroke his head, letting his friend know that he wasn't alone. Slowly, the pale lashes fluttered up, revealing clear blue eyes. He blinked a few times then, ran his hand through his hair. He rolled to his side and groaned with pain.

"Easy there big guy. I'm here." Starsky spoke quietly until he was sure Hutch was fully awake. Hutch looked around and gave a tired smile as he focused on Starsky.

He stared at the dark-haired man as his thoughts began to take shape. Remembering what had happened, he reached for Starsky.

Hutch's voice was still raspy from the anesthetic when he spoke.

"You okay?" He put his hand to his throat which was dry and sore.

Starsky reached for the water beside the bed. His hand shook as he poured. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to sit up, but his desire to be with Hutch outweighed his need to rest for the moment.

He helped Hutch drink then set the cup back on the bedside table.

"Your surgery went well. You just need to rest now."

"How's your head?" Hutch tried sitting up but the stitches pulled in his shoulder and he winced at the pain. Starsky reached out again, guiding Hutch back against the pillow.

"Feels like Huggy's back with his jackhammer routine in there, but the doc says I'll be fine."

"Seems like we were lucky once again partner." Hutch coughed, working to dislodge the gravely feel in his throat.

"I couldn't be there to watch your back. When I heard that gun go off, I was sure you'd been hit." Starsky slid into bed beside Hutch. He didn't want to go to his own but his head felt heavy and he needed support for his back. Hutch made room for him, sliding across the mattress.

"I wonder what happened to Ronnie." Starsky closed his eyes, thinking back to the voice that had been so kind.

"Who?"

"Ronnie, the kid who helped me. I don't remember much else."

"You mean that scrawny kid who was standing over you with that bloody piece of wood?" Hutch shook his head, thinking that Starsky's memory certainly had been affected if he thought the young boy had helped him.

Starsky winced against the pain as he sat up. But he was sure that Ronnie wasn't the one who'd hit him.

"I don't think it was him that did it." He spoke slowly, trying to recall the sequence of events. "One of the gang members tried to knife me and that's when I went down. He was the one that hit me then. Ronnie showed up and tried to wipe away the blood."

Hutch reached his uninjured arm over his head, shielding his eyes. Suddenly he understood that Ronnie had only been trying to protect Starsky.

"I guess when I came charging up the hill, he thought I was gonna attack him and that's when he ran off."

"You can be pretty scary looking when you want to." They shared a laugh but Starsky had reached his limit of tolerance to the pain. He gasped with the sharpness that spread through his head and neck. Moving gingerly, he sat up, grateful for Hutch's arm on his back, supporting him.

Watching closely as Starsky made his way back to bed, Hutch thought about the young man he'd seen with Starsky. Feeling guilty that he'd treated the young man so harshly, he began thinking of a way to make it up to his partner.

Once Starsky was settled back in bed, Hutch sank back against his own pillows, not yet ready to give in to the fatigue that he felt seeping into his body.

"I'm sorry Starsk. I just thought that kid was up to no good. Besides, I think it was the same little thief we saw trying to steel Delight's purse." Hutch settled in among the sheets as he struggled to continue their conversation.

"Could be." Starsky yawned. The earlier pain medication seemed to finally be kicking in. "If that's true, we should try and find him." Yawning again, Starsky closed his eyes, unable to keep them open any longer.

Further away in Bay City...

Ronnie was too wound up to go back to his home. The things he'd seen during the gang's fight had frightened him badly. He'd never witnessed such hatred as he saw between the two groups.

Thinking back to the cop named Starsky, Ronnie wondered what ever happened to him. He wished he'd stayed around to find out more, but when the blond cop appeared and started yelling at him, he couldn't think of anything else but to escape. Besides, the piercing blue eyes of the cop had practically burned a whole in Ronnie's stomach. Looking back, he supposed it did look as if he was the one responsible for Starsky's injuries, since the other cop had found him holding the wood over the injured man's head.

He couldn't forget how Starsky had been so still or how his wound bled. He'd done the best he could, trying to stop the bleeding with his rag. The man had aroused enough to speak a few words, including his name. He wondered if Starsky would remember who it was that had helped him.

Ronnie became anxious, wondering if he'd been followed by anyone from either gang. He stopped to crouch in the doorway of a store and peeked down the street; fearful of whom he might see. He got up and began walking aimlessly, intent on keeping away from the place he called home.

After about an hour, he stopped as he realized he wasn't walking on cement anymore. The dirt under his feet was flaky and dry. This was a new area to him so he first checked back the way he'd come until he was satisfied that he hadn't been followed.

There was a run down building off to the side but at first there wasn't anyone around. But there were plenty of cars.

Ronnie walked closer, glancing all around him at the cars in various stages of repair. He noticed some of the vehicles had been stripped while others looked as if they were in the process of being worked on. Still others had been outfitted with fancy seat covers and distinctive paint jobs.

He was fascinated by all he saw. He liked cars and recalled helping his brother change the oil in the family vehicle. His brother Dylan had worked on whatever car he was driving and Ronnie enjoyed watching and helping when he could. He was looking under the hood of one of the cars when all of the sudden some guy yelled at him to get off the car.

"Hey you! What you want there? Get lost!" Ronnie backed away but didn't run off. The man was an old black guy, with a dirty rag sticking out of his shirt pocket. He pulled it out to wipe his hands as he walked closer to the car.

"Huh, you better not've messed with this piece of art work." Merle glanced under the hood. Once he was satisfied that nothing had been broken or stolen, he stepped back to take a look at the youngster in front of him.

The boy seemed like a scrawny troublemaker to Merle but he looked his visitor in the eye. He stuck out his hand in greeting but when the boy didn't respond, Merle shrugged his shoulders and started to walk away.

As he did, he spoke over his shoulder. "The name's Merle, and this here is my place. You're welcome to come back if ya want."

Ronnie stood watching as Merle returned to the garage where he heard shrill equipment noise. He wasn't sure what to make of this guy but he didn't stick around to take him up on his offer.

He looked one more time at the cars in different stages of repair and saw Merle standing at the entrance to the garage, watching him. Merle waved but Ronnie kept on walking.