IT'S THE QUALITY THAT COUNTS
It all started in the week before Christmas. Starsky had collected his tree from the lot without a hitch. He'd got the perfect one, too. Forty minutes of checking a variety of trees of different sizes and shapes had finally landed him with a prize specimen that he couldn't wait to decorate. He hurried up the steps to his apartment and unlocked the door, leaving it open ready to receive its new leafy, seasonal visitor.
As he manhandled the large green specimen from the car roof (and up onto his shoulder), he was enveloped in the pine fresh scent of leaves. It was a scent that he loved well and always associated with the season. He briefly wished he had waited until Hutch was free to go with him to the lot. Two of them carrying the tree would have been a lot easier, but he'd been impatient to get the season well underway so he couldn't really complain if he now had to his struggle alone.
With the tree balanced precariously over his shoulder, he listed from one side to other as he negotiated each step up to his apartment. Suddenly, gravity confirmed its existence as the trunk slipped from his grasp and he tripped over a branch that chose that moment to escape from the white rope wrapped around it to keep it from harm. Starsky landed with a thud, catching his rib cage on the edge of a step and knocking all the breath out of him.
It took a few seconds of silent gasping before he could utter the word: "Owwww!" and a few more seconds before he could scramble back up on to his feet.
He prodded very gently at the side of his chest and winced. He was definitely bruised but it didn't seem like anything was broken. Carefully, he grabbed hold of the tree and dragged it the last remaining feet to his door and then on into the apartment, slamming the door shut with his foot. He dumped the tree behind the sofa and then headed first to the kitchen to collect a beer and then to the bathroom to inspect the injury in the mirror. It didn't look too bad; just a small red patch showing. The emerging bruise would only cover a small area. If he kept applying the arnica cream, which his mother swore by, it should heal quickly.
Starsky applied a layer of the miracle-cure balm and then headed back to get on with releasing his tree from its rope prison. In short order, the tree was up and the decorating could begin in earnest. Starsky whistled Christmas songs as he happily got on with the task. Christmas was less than a week away and he could hardly wait. He and Hutch weren't working Christmas Day itself although they had to work Christmas Eve this year. Any annoyance at that fact was lessened by the fact that Minnie had invited them to a Christmas Eve party and, after only a couple of days of entreating, arm-twisting and bribery, Hutch had agreed to go. Starsky was really looking forward to it…and to the Christmas meal at the Dobey's the following day. Spending the festivities with Hutch, their friends and their surrogate family was going to be the best time ever.
It was two days later, half way though the shift, when the two of them got called to a 2-11 in progress. They arrived in the street, containing the small store that was being robbed. They had their red light flashing but the sirens off. Hutch pulled into the edge of the sidewalk and they both leapt out and made their way cautiously towards the store. Very carefully, Hutch snuck a look in at the window.
"Looks like two of them. Plus three customers and the cashier."
"Do we have time for one of us to go around the back?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Starsky accepted his friend's assessment without question. They both knew that back-up was on the way in the form of black and whites so they only needed to contain the problem until then.
They exchanged the usual 'be careful' looks and then Starsky was running fast up the alleyway to the rear door of the store. He eased it open quietly and slipped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness and then – blam! Something barrelled into him at speed, knocking him back into the door, which opened from the sudden weight of his body hitting it. He stumbled, tripped over a plank of wood and fell backwards. He landed on his back, his gun hand slamming against a large refuse bin. His gun went flying.
Starsky made a grab for the ankle of the passing felon and succeeded in slowing him down. Behind him in the store, he heard a lot of shouting. He hoped Hutch was doing okay. Hopefully, the absence of any gunfire signalled that he had the other thief under control and maybe even in cuffs by now.
A second later, Starsky realised that grabbing at the thief probably hadn't been the smartest move as he now saw the guy was turning back towards him with a double-barrelled shotgun in one hand. In his other, he held a brown bag stuffed with bills that he'd made the bodega owner place inside. Knowing he'd never reach his own gun in time, Starsky did the only thing he could think of: he attempted to kick the man's legs out from under him.
The man staggered into the dumpster but managed to stay on his feet. He tried to bring the shotgun up to bear on Starsky, who by now had regained his feet. Starsky roared and rushed at him, grabbing the shotgun with both hands and forcing it back into the bin, as hard as he could, trapping the man's fingers against the unforgiving metal side. The man yelled but somehow held onto the shotgun. Starsky retreated an inch and then slammed against him again, hoping to wind him. He partially succeeded and the felon dropped the bag he was holding but stubbornly held onto the weapon. The pair of them wrestled for control of it.
Suddenly, Starsky heard a footfall behind him. Before he could react, he felt a hard, flat object crash into his back and side. Then there was another strike against the back of his head. He saw stars for a moment. Hands pulled him off the man he'd been wrestling with and flung him down on the ground as easily as if he was a rag doll. Dazed, all he could do was watch as the man with the shotgun swung it towards him.
"No time for that. Let's just get outta here before it's too late!" the other man shouted as he began pulling his partner away up the alley. The larger goon grabbed the bag of cash with his free hand as he passed it.
Starsky heard his original attacker ask, "Where's Harry?"
"Cop's got him," was the response and then the two men were running as fast as they could up the alleyway and around the corner to the right.
Starsky shook his head a few times and tried to stand up.
"Starsky! You okay? You hit?"
Suddenly, Hutch was there, bending down in front of him and looking worried. Starsky shook his head carefully.
"'m okay. They went that way. Leave me. Go get 'em.""
He indicated up and to the right.
Hutch shook his head. "Black and whites are scouting the area. They'll pick them up. We need to get your head looked at. It's bleeding."
"Is it?"
"Yes, it is," Hutch stated as he found a clean handkerchief and held it against the back of his partner's head. "Good job you got a thick skull."
Starsky rolled his eyes. "That joke's getting old," he muttered as Hutch helped him up onto his feet.
"Well, I'll work on my material while you're at the hospital," Hutch offered.
"Nah, I don't need a hospital. It's not that bad. Sticking plaster will do the job."
"Sorry, pal, I think you might need a couple of stitches…and maybe a tetanus shot."
Starsky looked concerned. "What did he hit me with anyway?"
Hutch kicked a plank near his feet. It looked splintered and had some short nails sticking out of it. Starsky grimaced.
"Oh…I see. Ouch."
"Yeah. Ouch. Come on. Let's get you checked out."
As they turned towards the store, Starsky suddenly remembered his gun.
"I lost my gun, Hutch. I think it must be under one of those piles of trash."
"Stay there. I'll look for it," Hutch ordered. After a quick search, he found it and handed it back to his partner. "Right. Let's go."
Starsky nodded and then winced, allowing Hutch to lead him to his car and drive him to the hospital without further protest. Once they'd arrived, a nurse asked Starsky a series of questions and seemed satisfied that he just needed the wound cleaning and a couple of stiches in it. Starsky's tetanus shots were up to date so he didn't have to have an injection. While they waited for the doctor to come and stitch up the small wound, Hutch found the need to apologise.
"I'm sorry the second guy got away from me, Starsky. I went after him as soon as I had the other one cuffed but I wasn't quick enough. I didn't realise there was a third guy already on the move."
"Not your fault, pal. Neither of us knew there were three of them. How'd your second perp get away?"
"He fooled me. He dropped his gun and acted like he was going to go in all quiet - like the first guy - but then suddenly he made a dash for it. Thank goodness he didn't still have his gun or-"
"-Hey," Starsky interrupted. "I don't blame you for anything. The creep could just as likely caused you trouble and we'd be here stitching up your head." Starsky shrugged. "It happens."
Hutch frowned and then slowly nodded. "I guess."
The doctor came in and made quick work of the stitching. He ran through the usual concussion protocols (Starsky and Hutch knew these by heart anyway) and then released the relieved detective.
Soon they were back in Hutch's car and heading downtown. When they passed the turning for the precinct, Starsky cast a sideways look at his partner and raised an eyebrow.
Hutch could feel his partner's eyes on him and answered the unspoken question: "I'm taking you home so you can rest like the doc said."
"I'm fine."
"Fine for someone who just got hit over the head. Did you not hear a word the doctor said?"
"Oh, he's just being cautious. I'm fine."
"Look, take the rest of the shift off. We've got to work tomorrow, remember, and you want to enjoy Christmas, don't you?"
"Ye-es."
"Well, then take it easy today. I think maybe we should tell Minnie-"
"-Nope, no way! I am not missing out on Minnie's party tomorrow night and don't you use my head as an excuse to wriggle out of going. You promised me!"
Hutch sighed and conceded. "All right, we'll still go to the party if you promise to go home and rest now."
Starsky scowled but knew not to push it. "All right, mother. I'll go put my feet up for a few hours." His face suddenly brightened. "Ooh, there's probably a Christmas movie marathon on!"
Hutch rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. When they reached Starsky's apartment, he patted his friend on the shoulder and said, "See you tomorrow, Santa!"
"Ho ho ho!" Starsky retorted, with a grin.
Starsky had a restless night. First of all, the throbbing in his head made it difficult to get to relax. After a few hours, he took more painkillers and settled down to watch the end of a movie. By the time it finished, his headache had receded a little but, as he got up from the couch, he realised that his side was aching badly and he felt very stiff. He went through to the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. What he saw wasn't pretty. The plank had clearly caught him on the same spot as where he'd landed on the step. The injury now covered a much wider area. The bruise he sported was purple and yellow in colour and as he regarded it, he began to feel the ache and discomfort building up even more.
"Oh, that's just t'riffic," he muttered to himself.
Feeling sorry for himself, he got ready for bed. He piled up his pillows and tried to lie at a comfortable angle. Eventually, he fell asleep, only to wake some hours later in total agony. He'd rolled over in his sleep onto his bad side and the pain was excruciating. Briefly, he wondered if he had a broken rib. He hoped not. Finally, he gave up on lying down and propped himself up on the couch to try to get a few more hours of sleep before his shift.
The next morning, feeling a lot of discomfort, he showered carefully, remembering to keep his stitches dry. Then rubbed half a pot of arnica over the bruised skin, wincing as he did so. Not feeling very hungry, he managed to eat a slice of toast, knowing he needed some fuel to get through the shift. He prayed the shift would be quiet and that his partner wouldn't notice the bags under his eyes or his slightly tense posture.
When he arrived at Hutch's, he beeped the horn; unable to face going up the stairs and also hoping to stop his friend from looking at him too closely. Hutch came down a minute later and quickly climbed into the car.
"Morning, Gordo!"
"Morning."
"How'd you sleep?"
"Like a baby," Starsky lied.
Hutch checked his partner over, noting the paler than usual looking skin, but didn't comment. He would keep a close eye on Starsky today. If he showed any of the symptoms of concussion, Hutch would be sending him straight home or to the hospital if necessary whatever his partner said.
They went into the squad room first to catch up on some overdue paperwork and then, as they had no active case, headed out on patrol. Around eleven, they stopped for a coffee. Starsky barely drank any of his and only ate half the donut Hutch bought him before wrapping it back up in the paper bag ready for disposal. He leaned out of the window towards the garbage can and hissed slightly.
"Starsky, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Stop fussing!" Starsky said firmly.
His face was a picture of denial but the sheen of sweat now covering his brow told his partner another story.
"Starsk?" Hutch spoke softly and carefully. "What's going on?"
Starsky thought about continuing to deny the pain he was in but then caved under the concern in his friend's eyes.
"I…I think that guy yesterday may have broken my rib."
"What?! Why didn't you get it checked out at the hospital?"
"It wasn't hurting then. It was just my head. 'Sides it wasn't bad after the other day and I figured a little more bruising wou-"
"What other day? What are you talking about?"
Starsky sighed; he'd forgotten Hutch didn't know about the tree incident.
"I fell over getting my Christmas tree into the house. Caught my side on a step but it was only a little bruise…It's just unfortunate that goon hit me in the exact same place. I'm sure it's just badly bruised, is all."
Starsky went to start the car engine and groaned as he lifted his hand to the steering wheel.
"Starsky. That's it! We're going to the hospital and I'm driving. Move over."
Hutch climbed out of the car and went around to the driver's side. Starsky hadn't moved.
"Come on, Gordo, move it!"
Starsky turned pain-filled eyes towards him.
"Don't think I can slide over…Hutch…It hurts to breathe."
Hutch's concern went up a whole other level. He opened the car door and very gently helped his friend out. He supported him as they walked around the car. Once his partner was safely settled, Hutch hurried back to the driver's seat and grabbed the radio mic. He called Dispatch to let them know he was taking Starsky to the hospital and that they would have to call in emergency staff if they were needed in the next few hours.
Once at the hospital, Starsky was whisked away for an x-ray. He did indeed have one broken rib. While his friend was being treated by a doctor, Hutch went and made a phone call. When Starsky was ready, Hutch drove him home. It was almost time for end of shift so Hutch officially signed them out.
As they neared his apartment, Starsky asked, "Can you pick me up tonight, pal? I guess it would be better if I didn't drive for a few days."
"Look," Hutch responded, "I called Minnie and-"
"What? You didn't! Tell me you didn't tell her I couldn't come to the party! You had no right, Hutch! It's not up to you, it's up to me!"
Hutch bristled with irritation. "You can't seriously tell me you feel like dancing with a broken rib and a wounded head? And don't forget you're not allowed any alcohol with the pills they gave you."
"I don't have to dance! I don't have to drink to have a good time!" Starsky retorted. "I can sit and watch. I can still have fun. It's Christmas. I want to spend it with my friends."
"Well, you've got me," Hutch offered testily.
Starsky grumbled under his breath.
"Charming!" Hutch said.
"How'd you know what I said?" Starsky demanded.
"I got a pretty good idea. Anyway, it's your tone, Gordo. What am I chopped liver?...So you can't go to the party. We'll still have a good night. You know it's about quality not quantity right?!"
Starsky started to say something rude and then reined himself in. Hutch was right. Any other night, he'd be perfectly happy spending time with his best friend, especially when he was feeling rotten and, if he were honest with himself, he was – but it was Christmas Eve. He'd been looking forward to the party all week. He felt hugely disappointed and aggrieved that he'd been injured and it was going to affect his Christmas plans.
He sighed. "Yeah, all right…It's just…it's Christmas. I like spending some of it with a crowd of people, makes it more fun. But I guess you're right."
They'd arrived at Starsky's home and headed on up the stairs. Once inside, Starsky settled himself on the couch while Hutch got them both a hot drink. As he sat down beside his partner, he nodded towards the tree.
"Looks good."
"Thanks." Starsky morosely sipped from his mug. His face grew darker as a thought occurred to him. "Please tell me you haven't cancelled lunch at the Dobey's tomorrow?"
"No, I haven't but that's all the more reason to take it easy tonight."
"Huh." Starsky frowned but nodded.
"So do you want to see if there's a Christmas movie on tonight?"
"I suppose."
Hutch turned on the TV and found something suitably Christmassy for them to watch. On his way back to the couch, he surreptitiously checked his watch. Not long to go.
"What are we going to do for dinner?" Starsky asked. "I've got a few snacks in for the holidays but nothing to make a meal of."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll rustle something up." Just then there was knock at the door. "You expecting someone?" Hutch asked, trying not to smile.
"No. Everyone should be home or partying. I ain't expecting anyone." Worriedly, Starsky looked around for his gun.
"Relax, Gordo!"
Hutch opened the door. Minnie was standing there, wearing a red dress trimmed with white and carrying boxes of Tupperware containers.
"Hey Minnie! What are you doing here?" Starsky asked with surprise.
"Oh honey, didn't Hutch tell you? He rang and asked if we could move the first half of the party to here. So here we are."
She stepped in and headed towards the kitchen and was quickly followed by lots of faces Starsky recognised. He turned to look at his partner, only to find him wearing a huge grin.
"Hutch! Why didn't you say anything?"
"You didn't exactly give me a chance!"
Starsky looked apologetic. "Yes, I guess that's true. Sorry for yelling at ya."
"No problem. It was worth it to see the surprised look on your face."
Minnie came over with a plate of food for Starsky and then looked around for his record player.
"All right if we put some music on? And can we move the some of your furniture around?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
Starsky went to move but Hutch stopped him. His finger underlined his statement: "This party is happening here on one condition that you don't move from the couch! You let everyone else do the work. 'Else I will kick everyone out. Got it?"
Starsky chuckled. "Okay, partner. Okay. Reading you loud and clear."
"Good…By the way, Happy Christmas, Starsk."
"Happy Christmas, pal."
A few minutes later, munching his way through his plate of snacks, Starsky had never looked happier.
Author's Note: thanks to Roscava Silena Natasha for your suggestion that Starsky be hiding an injury from Hutch - hope you don't mind it being a Christmas story! Thanks to Hummina for her help with the reason Starsky was hiding his injury.