CHAPTER 33

For weeks, Starsky struggled for his life. True to Dr. Cloverleaf's grim prediction, the man battled infections. The drains in the wounds to his chest and leg went from the bright red blood to discolored fluid. Even the site where his spleen was removed became infected, compounding the serious nature of his condition. Surgery was required twice to clean the wounds out. Hutch worried that Starsky wasn't strong enough to withstand the surgery but there was no choice. Dr. Cloverleaf had said that without his spleen, it would be harder for Starsky to fight off any infections. That proved to be the case since the wounds became infected regardless of the good care the injured man received. The blond hovered constantly, bathing his friend in cool water to help bring the fever down.

He never fully regained consciousness. The high fevers caused him to be disoriented and hallucinate. He called out for his father, for his mother, even for Terry. It was another indication to Hutch that he had failed his friend. She had entrusted Hutch to watch over her lover but the blond didn't feel that he'd done a very good job.

All of this tore at Hutch's heart, especially when Starsky never called out his name; further proof to the blond that Starsky wasn't asking Hutch for help. Resolutely, he stood guard, offering a cool cloth to the fevered head. When the moisturized sponges didn't seem to be enough to refresh the cracked and dry lips, Hutch gently wiped them with a damp washcloth wrung out in refreshing water. With each tender gesture, Hutch would whisper his promise to make it all up to his friend. But it was when his friend seemed to pull away from his touch that was hardest of all on the blond. Several times, Starsky jerked at any touch to his body, making Hutch feel as if he'd just caused more pain or subconsciously, it was Starsky rejecting Hutch's help. His guilt would grow with each spasm he witnessed.

But not even that would dislodge Hutch from his partner's side for longer than it took him to wash up and change clothes which magically appeared every few days. Unknown to him, Dobey had contacted Huggy who willingly stood by, ready to lend a hand wherever he was needed. Hutch wasn't available emotionally for anything other than Starsky, but the bar owner kept in contact with other snitches on the street in case anyone had information on Diaz Ramada, who seemed to have disappeared. But once Starsky was out of danger, Huggy knew that Hutch would be hell bent on tracking the gang member down and would welcome any information, no matter how old it might be.

One day, after Hutch repeatedly rejected invitations from his captain to go home with him for dinner, the burly black man walked into Starsky's room, armed with a lethal weapon, designed to break down Hutch's stubborn resolve.

"How is he today?" The Captain watched the still seriously ill detective, praying silently, relying on his faith since his own wishing didn't seem to improve the man's condition.

Hutch sat beside Starsky. Uncurling his long legs from under him, he stretched both limbs out in front of him before standing. When he did, he massaged his lower back and rotated his shoulders in an effort to sort out the various kinks and aches caused by so much sitting.

"A little better. His fever's down." Hutch walked toward Dobey to shake his captain's hand.

"Here, something from Rosie. I have no idea what it is, but she insisted I give it to you."

The injured man's body twitched. He couldn't seem to capture the images and thoughts that swirled around him. But he knew he wasn't alone. He struggled within himself to break free of whatever it was that rooted him to a hard surface.

Starsky felt as if he was standing under a waterfall. The pounding, rushing water weighed him down. The noise drowned out voices and he couldn't tell where they were nor could he make sense of the words.

Suddenly, the crashing heaviness disappeared, leaving him weak but the voices were closer and the weight lifted from him. He drank in the conversation, wanting to respond as he heard captain Dobey mention Rosie, then Hutch's soothing voice read something that the young girl had written. He wanted to laugh but it took too much effort so he just enjoyed the sounds. He thought he'd screamed out his joy at being part of it all again, but when nobody responded, he took a breath and struggled to be heard.

Dobey handed Hutch a folded piece of green construction paper. He sighed as he watched the still form in the bed. Hutch stood at the foot of the bed, as he began to read.

In a childish script done with a purple crayon, Hutch read the invitation out loud.

"Dear uncle Hutch:

Please come home with daddy for dinner. He says you're too skinny.

Mommy is making something really good. I miss you.

Please give Uncle Starsky a kiss for me.

P.S.- Mommy helped me write this. She told me to set an extra place at the table for you. She loves you too.

Love

Rosie

"Well, I can't very well refuse, can I?" Hutch smiled at the paper in his hand then went to share it with Starsky.

Starsky swallowed and winced with pain. He tried to move his lips and form a word. Hutch didn't hear it at first because the voice was weak and gravely.

"Go." Just one word had the capacity to change everything. Obviously, the last angry confrontation between them was the first thing that Starsky remembered as he awakened. Hutch didn't blame him, hell, he didn't deserve forgiveness. The burden of his guilt weighed heavily on Hutch's shoulders. He couldn't celebrate because of it.

Captain Dobey smiled broadly looking to share in the joy at hearing Starsky speak. Instead of jubilation, Dobey watched the pained expression cross the blonde's features.

Starsky struggled again to speak but the words wouldn't form. The face contorted into pain, teeth biting into bottom lip as he tried to ride out the discomfort.

Hutch watched as the bed ridden man struggled to clear his head from the heavy fog of illness. He wanted to reach out, to help him make the transition but felt that Starsky had already made it clear that he didn't need him.

Dobey continued to watch the blond, annoyed that his detective could be so blind to Starsky's distress. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he moved closer to the two men.

"Hutch, what's the matter? This is what we've been waiting for. He needs you." The blond bowed his head as he turned away. Dobey watched as Starsky clutched at the letter from Rosie. He did his best to reach out to Hutch but he managed only a frustrated cry, further proof to Hutch that it was a cry of anger, not need.

The paper crinkled loudly as Starsky's hand shook with the effort to gain his friend's attention. He desperately needed Hutch to understand how much he needed him. Attempting to speak again, he struggled for breath enough to communicate.

"Rosie, dinner…." Starsky struggled for air to complete his thought. He was rewarded by a tentative look from the blond. In a scratchy, dry voice he croaked out a final word. "…date…." Finally Hutch understood that the first word spoken was not an expression of anger, but an answer to a conversation that he didn't realize his friend had heard. His reaction was swift as he reached out, grabbing the listless hand that searched for him, silently asking him to stay.

"Oh my god, Starsky!" Hutch's wide smile felt foreign on his face as he beamed his pleasure. "You heard me read that letter, didn't you?" Hutch looked down at his friend, relief wiping away his doubts.

Dobey whispered a prayer of thanks and gave in to the joy, letting his gratefulness overflow.

Hutch reached for the letter from Rosie, closing his hand over Starsky's who still held it in his.

He sat down on the bed. Starsky groaned so Hutch reluctantly shifted away, only to have his friend reach out slowly to stop him. Hutch swallowed down the lump in his throat as he responded. "It's been a long haul, buddy. I've missed you." He didn't know what to say. He was so relieved that his friend was finally conscious but found he was at a loss for words. There was so much he wanted to say but sitting there, watching as those blue eyes struggled to remain open, was all that he needed at the moment. There would be time for apologies and promises.

Starsky struggled to respond but his voice faltered and he coughed weakly but it was strong enough to cause a shiver to run through him.

Hutch helped Starsky sit upright, supporting his back as the cough tore through both men. "Easy now, don't push yourself." Hutch tried to calm Starsky, wanting him to reserve what little strength he had. Starsky's hand limply waved at his friend, indicating he was okay. Hutch gently guided his friend back against the mattress.

The blond nodded toward the call button as he looked at the captain. Dobey pressed the button and within minutes, the nurse appeared, taking in two happy faces and one very weak, but determined patient. She went to work examining her patient's vital signs. She was pleased with what she found and wrote the results in the chart.

"I'll page Dr. Cloverleaf. I'm so relieved to see improvement." She gently moved her fingers through Starsky's hair. She'd grown to care about this man and was impressed with Hutch's constant vigil.

"Welcome back." She smiled at them and left to page the doctor.

"Hurts." Starsky managed another word. But it was no wonder he was in pain. As Hutch glanced over the battered body, he grimaced at his friend's condition. He sighed at the thought of the struggle the man had ahead of him. But he knew Starsky's will to live was strong and coupled with Hutch's determination to make it happen, the dark- haired man would recover. But Hutch promised himself again that he would avenge the damage he now saw in front of him. He knew better than to express his desire again to his captain but whether it was on his own time or with badge in hand, he would seek out and destroy Diaz Ramada. Also, because Diaz had taken advantage of Ronnie's naive nature, he would seek retribution for how the boy had been exploited.