CHAPTER 12

By the end of the week, Starsky's dizziness had completely disappeared, although his headaches remained. They were intense but less frequent.

As for Hutch, he was up and moving about. His arm alternated between numbness and a tingling down to his fingers.

Reluctantly, their doctor agreed to sign their discharge papers. His arguments against leaving were shot down one by one with calm and rational explanations from both men, particularly when Starsky pointed out that if all he was allowed to do was rest, why not at home?

Since they were both off, the guys decided to stay at Starsky's. His headaches were unpredictable and when they occurred, he needed to remain in a darkened room with little or no sound.

Huggy picked them up from the hospital in Hutch's LTD. Starsky wasn't allowed to drive and even he saw the sense in waiting to drive until they had disappeared.

A few days into their recuperation, Starsky had taken over the cooking while Hutch looked after his friend. Neither one ever liked taking medication but in this case, Starsky's headaches were greatly relieved when he took them at the first sign of symptoms. Hutch knew his friend so well, that he could tell exactly when a migraine was forming just by the look in Starsky's eyes.

Hutch's injury made it difficult to do normal things such as shaving, dressing and cooking.

"You ready for lunch?" Starsky had been puttering in the kitchen, making all sorts of noises, for the past hour.

Hutch silently praised his friend for the breakfast that had lured him out of the bathroom this morning due to the delicious aromas. Eggs, French toast and coffee had been on the table as he followed his nose to the kitchen. Pleasantly surprised at Starsky's skill, Hutch enjoyed every mouthful. Now that it was lunch time, his stomach grumbled and his mouth watered as other aromas promised to tempt his appetite.

He made himself comfortable at the table as Starsky served him their food.

"Never thought you'd be so domestic. I'm impressed." Hutch spoke around a mouthful of fish.

"You just never gave me the opportunity to prove myself." Starsky stabbed his fork in the air, making his point. He went back to spearing broccoli as he smiled at his roommate.

The quiet that surrounded them was friendly and easy as they concentrated on eating and once their plates were empty, they worked together to clean up the kitchen.

Later, they sat in the living room, Hutch reading while Starsky rested on the couch. His body was tired but his mind refused to rest.

"I wanna go find Ronnie." Starsky sat up, elbows resting on his knees.

Hutch laid the book in his lap and stretched his shoulder. The pain was still there when he flexed his fingers but they weren't tingling.

The image of the young boy standing over Starsky with a bloody weapon wasn't someone he thought his partner should get involved with.

As far as Hutch was concerned, the kid might be just another street urchin, refusing help, especially from a cop.

"Now?" He watched as Starsky slid into his sneakers. Once Starsky made up his mind about something, there was no delay in following through.

'Yeah, I feel like I could help him. If he's involved in petty theft but thoughtful enough to try and help me, maybe it's not too late for him."

Starsky tentatively touched the top of his head. The stitches pulled, making his scalp feel tight. He was restless and needed to focus on something other than himself.

"I guess we could go back to the place where we chased him away from stealing the old lady's purse. " Hutch thought carefully before continuing. He felt he knew what was coming.

"Why him?" Hutch asked, but felt he already knew the answer. The dark-haired man sighed as he looked over at his friend.

"Because, maybe if I help him, then he won't end up..." Unable to continue the thought, Hutch finished it for him.

"…like Nicky?" Hutch moved over to the couch and massaged Starsky's knee.

'Nicky isn't your responsibility. He's made his own choices." For a moment Starsky's eyes grew dark, his mouth set in a thin line. He controlled the urge to answer back with an angry remark, but in his heart, he knew Hutch was right. But the ghosts of his childhood refused to fade into the background.

"If I'da been there to watch out for him, he wouldn't have gotten involved in the same gang that Ma worked so hard to get me away from. No wonder he hates me. I got sent to California while he had to stay behind with a mother he resented."

Hutch was familiar with this guilty worry of Starsky's. They'd spent many nights over countless beers hashing out the sibling rivalry.

"I doubt Ronnie is part of either gang. He doesn't fit their profile." Hutch sat back against the couch, thinking about the young boy with the bloody piece of wood in his hands and the angry look in his eyes.

"I don't think so either.", Starsky mused as he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pricks of pain that were beginning to pester him.

"I don't remember much except he told me his name. I doubt he woulda done that if he had just beaten me up." Starsky let out a small laugh and rubbed the side of his head.

"True, but why was he there in the first place?" Hutch sat forward again, noticing the way Starsky was massaging his temples. Without a word, he got up, went to the kitchen and got the medication his friend needed when a headache started. Most times, it helped lessen the severity to the point that Starsky could still function without retreating to a dark, silent bedroom.

Coming back to the couch, he handed Starsky a glass of water and the pill. The dark-haired man looked up, took the pill without question and drank the water.

"Thanks buddy." He set the empty glass on the coffee table, leaned back against the couch and propped his feet up on the furniture in front of him.

"Maybe he was just there doing what any normal kid does… play." Hutch sat forward, listening to what Starsky said and suddenly something clicked into place.

"Yeah, he must've just gotten stuck there when the fight started and stayed around to watch." Hutch leaned forward, his hands folded together. He thought about Kiko and understood how important a stable adult could be to an impressionable teen.

Getting back to Ronnie, Hutch remembered the bloody rag he found near Starsky. "Now that I think about it, he was trying to help you. Once I got to you, I found a cloth near you and wondered where it'd come from."

"Well, if ya hadn't chased him away, you coulda asked him." Starsky's tone was stern, but the glint in his eye told Hutch that the man was teasing, perhaps already feeling better, the medication derailing his pain.

Hutch stood up, pacing to the other side of the room. He understood why Starsky felt responsible but sometimes, he couldn't come up with the right words to help his friend. Instead of responding right away, he went to his jacket that hung over the kitchen chair, fished the car keys out of it and jangled them in his hand as he walked back to Starsky.

"C'mon, let's go. But I'm driving." Hutch smiled to himself at the good natured teasing from his friend about the car.

"Maybe on our way home, we can stop at Merle's and see if he can give that tin can of yours a tune up."

Trading insults about each other's car, they left the house arm in arm.