Poison Apple
By TLR

Plot: Based on the episode Murder Ward.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Once he found out Hutch was not Hanson the orderly, but Hutchinson the detective, Dr. Matwick of the Cabrillo State sanitarium poisoned his apple.

As the toxin streamed through his veins, Hutch felt an initial burst of agitation, his heart racing unnaturally. Confusion clouded his thoughts, dizziness and lightheadedness swept through him, and his limbs began to slightly tremor. He realized with terrifying clarity what was happening, but that clarity gave way to mud, and by that time, it was too late to act.

When Deek loomed distortedly in his face with the knife, instinct kicked in and he stumbled away, driven by his need to find Starsky and survive. He had to keep both of them alive.

(If he catches me, he'll kill me, and then he'll kill Starsky, if he hasn't already)

As he staggered through the hall, he overturned any obstacle he could find to put in Deek's way...an office chair, a wheelchair...doing more falling than running.

(Go, go, go, put distance between you and him any way you can)

A locked door with glass? Temporary obstruction. His elbow shattered it. He threw it open and kept going.

(Starsk, where are you? Hold on, I'm coming)

Passing by an operating room with a small window, Hutch stalled, vision blurry, on the verge of collapsing. Caught a glimpse of Starsky and kept going, knowing he couldn't linger long enough to help him, he had to lure Deek away from him, for fear of Deek killing a bound and helpless Starsky, and then him, and then maybe someone else.

Hutch found the stairs and half-climbed, half-crawled up them, clinging, grabbing...just go up, get up there, get away, keep leading him away, climb, run, jump, whatever you have to do...

But he couldn't. The poison was too strong, and he was too weak. How do you climb chain-link? Where are you going? His physical strength gave out as his grip failed and he collapsed onto his back with Deek and his knife bearing down. Sheer will tried to keep Deek's knife away, but even that was fading.

(Maybe it's all a dream)

Just as his last ounce of strength was gone and he could no longer defend himself, Starsky was there fighting Deek off, punching, throwing, shouting, whatever else he was doing.

Weak and disoriented, Hutch tried to get up, tried to force himself to get up and help his partner, but the toxin was too powerful, and he was too sluggish.

Their voices echoed a little hollowly in the stairwell.

"Hutch?" Starsky asked. "Y'kay? Huh? You okay?"

"I can't..." Hutch's vague words. "...make it."

"Yes, you can. Hold on."

Starsky worked to pull him up, then got him up and struggled with him up the stairs and onto the landing. Starsky himself had been weakened by drugs and pain, but he still managed to lean Hutch into a corner, where Hutch was too weak to do anything but slide down.

"Come on," Starsky panted. "Huh? Hutch. Huh? Come on."

Operating on fear, love, and determination, Starsky patted his face to try to keep him awake. "Hutch?"

"Matwick," Hutch murmured dazedly.

"It's okay."

"Matwick," Hutch murmured again..."no, no"...as he raised his arm as if in a warding off gesture, perhaps to block a hallucination of the doctor, or an image of Deek, or maybe a morphed illusion of both at once.

Starsky didn't want to leave him, but he had to. He had to take care of Matwick, an unarmed cop chasing a maniacal doctor with a gun, which meant he had to race the halls to find him and put an end to his madness. To save not just Hutch, but himself and any other potential victims in the building.

Hutch, hearing the gunshot and not knowing if Starsky were dead or alive-at the least needed his help-reached deep for whatever strength and sense he could find, forced himself to his feet, and made his fumbling way into the hall.

Still disoriented and staggering, he met a linen cart in the hallway, and, seeing in a security mirror at the end of the hall that Matwick was coming his way, Hutch used his remaining strength to shove the cart down the corridor in front of Matwick so he would collide with it.

This gave Starsky the chance to dive at the doctor and grab his gun.

"Right there," Starsky said as he aimed at Matwick.

A stunned Matwick could only bare his teeth like the vicious animal he was and glare back.

Gun still on the doctor, Starsky moved over to Hutch and put an arm around him. "You okay?"

Hutch's reply was a weak attempt at humor. "I didn't think...you could handle it all by yourself."

It was only then that Hutch could give in, rest in Starsky's strength, let go. At least temporarily. Succumbing to the poison, weakness, and dizziness, he slumped against his partner, who pulled him close with a reassuring pat.

::

Hutch was still too weak and uncoordinated to move or help himself, the poison now seeming to claim a stronger foothold than it had before, saturating every area of his body and brain.

"Starsk..." Hutch gasped, too weak now to raise his head, trying to grasp his partner's arm. "Apple... poison..."

Starsky sat with his arm around Hutch as he directed the staff to go look for the poisoned apple Hutch had consumed, then told them to call an ambulance and Captain Dobey.

An apple? What if it were a figment of his imagination? Talking out of his head?

"Just rest, Hutch. I'll take care of you."

Starsky's insides winced when he felt Hutch's trembling muscles against him. Was it a physical reaction, or a psychological one from hallucination? Hutch's breathing was raspier now. He wasn't trying to communicate or reach for his partner anymore. He seemed to be slipping farther away from him, like a drifting balloon. "Stay with me, buddy."

By the time the staff nurses approached to assess or offer help, the ambulance had arrived, but Hutch's condition seemed to be deteriorating.

"Hurry it up!" Starsky shouted at the medics. He himself wore haunting dark circles under his eyes that weren't there when he first arrived. This house of horrors had done a number on him too. He'd been sedated, abused, and restrained, basically offering himself as a living sacrifice to save those trapped within these walls. Now the place was trying to swallow his partner. There had been something malevolent in this place. Now maybe it was gone.

When the medics brought the gurney over, Starsky helped them lift Hutch onto it.

"It's gonna be okay, Hutch. You hear me? You're gonna be okay."

::

As they raised the gurney into the back of the ambulance and Starsky climbed in with them, Hutch's tremoring became stronger and his breathing became more labored. An oxygen mask went over his face.

"He's seizing," a medic said as they administered anticonvulsants and muscle relaxants to counteract the effects of the poison.

A small cry sounded in Starsky's constricted throat. "Hutch. Hold on. Don't let go."

::

At Memorial Hospital, Hutch was hurried into ER, and tests were conducted on the poison-soaked apple while Starsky explained the facts in a rush to the doctors and Captain Dobey in the hall:

"Dr. Matwick was indicted for negligent homicide in New York for conducting behavioral control experiments on mental patients. Two died and it was hushed up. He was into psychochemical experiments. Atropine compound. Illegal psychosurgeries. Me and Hutch suspect the suicides at Cabrillo weren't suicides at all."

A third doctor came from the ER to join them.

"Atropine is what we suspected," the new doctor told them, "but that isn't the only drug. We're treating the atropine psychosis with antipsychotics and antidepressants, along with some other medications to counter the effects."

"Psychosis?" Starsky asked.

The word hung darkly in the air.

"Yes. Hallucinations. Delirium. An extreme sense of fight or flight. Paranoia. We're doing everything we can. Once we identify all of the toxins, we'll know the best course of treatment. We know it's atropine, which will eventually clear his system, but we think there's more."

Hutch's voice sounded through the double swing doors of the ER, a little weak and hollow through the oxygen mask.

"Matwick! Starsk! Help Starsk! Help him! He-he needs-"

A scuffling sound as Hutch tried to fight with them, still trying to help his partner in his confusion.

Instinctively Starsky started for the ER doors, his insides turning to gravel, but every hand there reached and gently but firmly pulled him back.

"Let them work," Dobey told him as he led Starsky away from the double doors.

Starsky's chest was heaving for breath, nearly panting.

The Matwick and Deek ordeal shook Starsky to the center of his soul, the vulnerability of his partner a blunt reminder that the danger of this case wasn't over yet, that the sick doctor was still reaching out with his malignant tentacles even though he was in custody. All this on the heels of Diane Harmon. Hutch didn't deserve this. Where did he find the strength?

And then Starsky asked himself the exact question, and the answer came back the same for both of them: We find the strength in each other.

Starsky turned and left through the sliding Exit doors. This time he was too wiped out to care who saw the tears in his eyes.

::

Matwick sat at a table in an interrogation room at the precinct. This Starsky was vastly different from the one he'd had on his operating table.

No restraints. No torn clothes. No drugs.

Even different from the one who'd held a gun on him at the sanitarium. This one looked like a Starsky on the verge of losing everything he loved in this world and had nothing else left.

Starsky displayed his badge; his shoulder holster and weapon clearly visible against the dark blue T-shirt he wore with jeans. An intentional attempt at intimidation, even though unnerving Matwick was highly unlikely, in Starsky's estimation.

Starsky's eyes looked troubled and dark, as if in deep mourning, as if he'd walked through the flames of hell; and in a way he had. Hutch's and his both.

"No lawyer?" Starsky asked.

Matwick looked the same as he had in the institution. He still wore his lab coat. Still wore his glasses. He didn't look intimidated or unnerved at all, and that was because he wasn't.

"I'm representing myself this time, Mr. Starsky."

Starsky leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

(Good. Have a fool for a client)

"My partner is near death. I need to know what you mixed with the atropine."

Matwick offered a clinical smile that was half-frown, half-mad amusement. "I'm surprised he's still alive. He-"

Starsky grabbed the front of his white coat and slammed him against the wall, holding him there. "No games. You give me the name of the poisons. I give you a deal your decrepit lawyer will love."

The frowning smile again. Unperturbed.

Starsky had encountered narcissistic sociopaths before, but this doctor seemed above and beyond that. Void of humanity or normal human emotions or empathy. His subjects were insects to him, grains of sand, no more than microscope slides or formulas. There weren't many like him in the world. Perhaps worse than those who committed atrocities in the death camps during the second world war. At least they had the poor, lame excuse of just following orders. Matwick's reason was morbid curiosity. It was clear that if anyone belonged in a mental hospital, it was this man.

"DM3. My own formula. It's in the notes, David. A good researcher always keeps good notes."

Matwick's expression suggested a sense of satisfaction and pride in his work and methods.

Starsky released him and ran from the room to the nearest phone to call Dobey. The officer in the hall in charge of Matwick stared after the detective, then went in to take the doctor back to his cell.

Over the phone Starsky said to the captain, "Look through the Matwick notes I gave you. Look for Matwick's drug called DM3 and show the doctors."

As Starsky sped back to the hospital in the Torino, he wasn't about to believe that Matwick offered the information up so readily because he was concerned. No. It had more to do with ego, deriving a sick pleasure from knowing Hutch was near death at his hands. A twisted God complex. More like a devil complex.

::

ICU.

Hutch's doctors used Matwick's notes to identify the composition of DM3 and administer treatment.

Now a few hours later as Hutch lay in a coma, hooked to monitors and IVs and other mechanisms, Starsky remained a dark angel by his bedside. It would be a miracle if he maintained his own sanity through this. The only thing keeping him grounded and sane was the man lying in this hospital bed. Knowing Hutch needed him. That they needed each other.

"Come on, Hutch," he whispered as he brushed the back of his fingers across his hair, "Come back."

When Captain Dobey and Huggy quietly slipped into the room, Starsky motioned for them to join him at Hutch's bedside, and they did.

"Jane's pulling through," Dobey told him. "She's out of her coma. Doctor said Matwick didn't give her the DM3, just the atropine."

Starsky nodded. "Stay with him till I get back. I want to see her for a few minutes. If anything changes...come and get me."

::

Pushing the door to her hospital room open, Starsky found Jane propped up and pale. She offered a smile of relief when she saw him in the doorway.

"Hi," he said kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand. "Doin' okay?"

"They tell me I am," she said. "Could be worse. How's Hutch?"

"We're hopin'. Tough night."

"Tough week."

"Really."

"Can't wait to write this up."

"We'll need your official statement. You're a key part of the investigation now."

She nodded. "I just can't believe how this whole thing went down. And you. You look like you could use some rest."

"I'll get there."

"Well, look. I'm glad you stopped in. But my boyfriend is on the way, and we're going to make up for lost time, if you know what I mean."

"Nope," he smiled. "Don't know what you mean at all. We should go back to Cabrillo and make sure they're okay. You know. When the dust settles and Hutch is on his feet again."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Well, I should really get back to Hutch. See you around."

"Take care, Dave. I'll come see you and Hutch soon as I can."

"We'll hold you to it."

Starsky walked down the hall and turned the corner, going into Hutch's room where Dobey and Huggy still were.

"Any change?"

"Not yet," Dobey said. "Keep hoping."

"Look, um...you two get out of here. Go rest. Get somethin' to eat, whatever. I'm stayin'."

"Right," Dobey said holding up the Matwick file. "I've got some work to do myself on the case. Call if you need anything."

Starsky nodded.

"Goes for me too," Huggy added.

Starsky nodded again.

Dobey and Huggy gave his shoulder a squeeze on their way out.

::

Tubes and wires were connected to Hutch, monitoring his vitals, but not needing the oxygen mask or ventilator was a good sign. He was no longer in respiratory distress. Starsky felt like he could sit down in a chair and continue his watch with a little more hope. Time to decompress. Time to realize he and Hutch were not comic book heroes. They bled. They hurt. They feared. They cried. Even though they were fearless. Unflinching. And strong.

In the dimly lit room, Starsky slouched down in his chair, his heavy eyelids threatening to close.

"See you later, Hutch," he murmured sleepily.

"Mat," Hutch murmured with his eyes closed.

This opened Starsky's eyes and woke him up again.

"Hutch?" he asked leaning toward him, placing a hand on his chest. "Is that you? You awake?"

Hutch stirred in the bed and his head turned toward his partner's voice. "Mat...Matwick."

"No," Starsky murmured as he put his hand over Hutch's. "Not Matwick. It's me. I'm right here."

Hutch's eyes slowly came open, focusing with effort on his partner. "Starsk?" came his weak whisper.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy." Starsky couldn't help but smile. "That's all I've been waitin' to hear. How you feeling?"

No answer. His eyes closed again and he was still once more, which concerned Starsky, who buzzed for a nurse, a doctor, anyone.

Starsky jostled Hutch's chest a little. "Come on, partner. Stay awake for me. That's it. Come back."

Hutch blinked tiredly at him, his voice breathy and paper dry. "Time is it."

Starsky smiled. "I have no idea. Morning? I closed the blinds to keep the light out."

This time Hutch's eyes stayed open a little longer and rested on his partner. "Stay."

Starsky nodded. "You bet. Ain't goin' nowhere."

"Bits. Pieces."

"I know, Hutch. It was crazy. But we got Matwick. Jane's gonna be okay. She woke up. You're gonna be okay too."

Hutch's gaze drifted, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "Saw things...felt things..."

"Sshh. It's okay now."

Hutch's hand came up for Starsky to take. "Lost my mind."

Starsky didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "A little," he said, doing a little of both. "You're okay now. Gonna be all right."

"Am I...normal?"

"You're never normal, Blintz."

A tear escaped Hutch's eye, trailing down his temple. "Scared, Starsk...lost."

Starsky's own eyes glistened with unshed tears. It was the same lost look Hutch had had when Starsky got him back from Forest. Total helplessness. Total dependence on his partner. For life. For hope. For safety. Stability. Strength. Dignity. "I know, buddy. I was scared too. But you're back now. Doc says you'll be just fine. You believe me?"

Hutch nodded. "Please stay."

"I'm stayin'. I promise."

Just then the doctor and nurse came in. As they checked Hutch out, the doctor gave Starsky a brief smile. "Looks like he's going to be all right."

::

But all right to the doctor wasn't the same as being all right to Starsky. It took days for Hutch to recover enough to leave, to come back down to himself again. He was still a little clingy, but in a way only Starsky would notice-the way Hutch's hand would drift toward his partner, as if for reassurance, as if to touch him to make sure he was still close enough, in reach, a lifeline, to ground him in reality, remind himself who he was and who they were.

Many visitors. Huggy of course, who sneaked in good food. The Dobeys. Jane, with her boyfriend in tow. Her expose would be a blockbuster. She wanted to interview both detectives, and both said firmly and flatly no. They always shied away from the limelight like a couple of intensely private superstars. In a way, though, they were superstar cops, but neither recognized it or sought it. Too busy doing their job to even think about it. They only did press when they had to, or were ordered to.

But above making sure of his own comfort and safety, Hutch's reaching out was to also make sure Starsky was okay too. They needed that connection, even if it were just a small gesture of shoulders touching or a hand on the nape of the neck. They had been apart too long in that sanitarium, and being apart for too long proved to be risky time and time again.

Discharge day.

They both rode the elevator down to the ground floor of Memorial Hospital, the only two inside the humming enclosure. They simply looked at each other. No words. Evaluating. Making sure each looked okay. They didn't. On surface they did. But each could see past the veneer and into the vulnerable psyche of the other. By the grace of God and love for each other, they had survived.

The elevator would touch down in a few seconds. Time to meet the world again. As Starsky and Hutch. But before the doors slid open, they took a step toward each other and hugged tightly, desperately.

"Almost lost you," Starsky whispered, a tear hitching in his throat.

Hutch nodded with the close of his eyes. "Almost lost you too."

"Glad you're still here."

"Me too."

Chip and Dale time.

The doors opened and they stepped out. Refueled. Recommitted. Back in the groove.

As they walked across the lobby and toward the sliding exit doors, Starsky put a hand on Hutch's shoulder and squeezed. "We need to plan a birthday party for when we go back to Cabrillo."

Once in the sunshine outside the building, and that went for both Memorial and Cabrillo buildings, life looked a lot brighter. But of course it did because Starsky and Hutch were still in one piece.

end