"Timepieces"
by
That incessant sound.
Tick. Tock. Tick.
Tock... it was the only sound he
heard in the dark, quiet bedroom. Except, of course, for the silent wheeze
of his friend as he slept fitfully in his bed, the blankets
pulled up around
his neck. He couldn't
fully explain his friends' near obsession with clocks,
watches, timepieces of all types. Well, truth be told, he really could. His
friends' dad had started it all by giving his son his very
first wristwatch
that was much too big for his small wrist. It wa at that moment he became a
man. As much as the
son revered his father, you'd think he'd given him the
sun, the moon and the stars, and the son spent the rest of
his life showing
off the watch and sharing memories of his father to anyone
and everyone who
would listen. The
love and admiration for the man shone in his eyes, even
though the man died all too soon and his young son was
forced to grow up fast
without the man he idolized to show him the ways of the
world. All his son
had left of his dad were vague memories, but he clung to
them for the rest of
his life. And when
the precious gifts' heart finally gave out, he kept it in
a special place in a drawer in his bedroom, taking it out
every once in a
while to touch, lovingly, when he NEEDED to remember... when life seemed
impossible to deal with and he needed to be reminded of a
sweeter time...
when life was easier...
simpler.
Hutch sat back in the chair that sat close to the bed and
sighed heavily,
rubbing his tired eyes.
He'd made it about halfway through the paperback in
his lap so far and his eyes were paying the price. He dreaded the
possibility - probability? - of having to succumb to glasses
someday. A
street cop with bad vision WASN'T a good thing...
He peered through blurry eyes down at the sleeping form on
the bed with a
deep affection and smiled to himself, tilting his head
thoughtfully to the
side. He'd been here
all night, keeping watch over his best friend and
partner; Starsky had
been struck down the day earlier with a horrid bout of
the flu that caught him totally off guard. He'd felt fine that morning.
They'd been driving their beat, the streets of
pull off to the side, a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness
overtaking him.
Hutch had taken over the driving, switching seats with his
sick friend,
logging them out at headquarters and had driven them
straight to Starsky's
place, where they'd been ever since. Hutch had barely gotten his friend out
of the car and up the stairs into his house before Starsky
ran to the
bathroom, losing the lunch they had just eaten. Hutch thought at first
they'd gotten hold of some bad burgers and Starsky had the
beginnings of food
poisoning, but putting a hand tenderly to his friends'
forehead, he found
Starsky was burning up, and his eyes were blurred and
bloodshot red. And
Hutch himself had felt fine, no problems with HIS lunch.
Quickly getting him out of his clothes and into his favorite
navy blue
pajamas, Hutch practically had to force an unwilling Starsky
into his bed,
who all the while insisted he was fine and they should get
back to work. Of
course, Starsky was shivering violently the entire time as
Hutch pulled the
blankets up over his friends' arms.
"Ah Ah! Don't
move!" he'd ordered, wide-eyed,
pointing his finger as he
picked up the phone on the nightstand to call Captain Dobey
and inform him of
their situation.
Dobey understood completely, he'd known his two best
detectives for a number of years now and had come to
consider them as family.
He knew they lived
for their jobs and would never "skip" work for no good
reason. Starsky MUST
be sick, and he knew only his best friend Hutch could
take care of him.
"Take all the time you need." Dobey had said. "I'll take your names off the
roster. Just keep me
informed."
"You got it, Cap.
Thanks." Hutch grinned into
the phone.
"And Hutch,"
Dobey added, more soberly.
"If you think he needs to be in the
hospital, don't hesistate." Dobey knew all that Starsky had been through
this past year and knew he was still gaining his strength
from the poisoning.
Something as simple
and unassuming as the flu could really be a setback for
him. Starsky's immune
system had been severly affected and he took ill
constantly the whole year.
"Right."
Hutch muttered as his smile faded.
Setting down the received, he glanced back at his friends'
pale face, sweat
now pouring down it.
He was teetering between chills and fever, that wasn't
good. Hutch had
pulled the shades and plunged the room into darkness, even
though it was mid morning, and pulled a chair up to the bed
to sit, never
leaving his friend.
Starsky wasn't quite asleep, his teeth were chattering as he
tried to speak.
"Hu...
Hu..." was all he could get
out as he pleaded with glazed blue eyes.
Hutch sat on the edge
of the chair, closer to the bed.
"'s okay, buddy, Hutch is here." he soothed, smiling warmly as he pushed
back damp curls from Starskys' forehead. Damn.
He was still burning up...
"I'm here with you, I won't leave. Hey, Dobey said to get better,
orders."
he added, pulling the blankets up once again, as Starsky had
thrashed around
while Hutch was on the phone.
"Hutch, I feel lousy." Starsky finally admitted in a whisper, his
teeth
chattering.
"I know, babe, you're sick. But we're gonna' get you through this, I
promise." Hutch
said, a gentle hand to the side of his partners' face.
"I'll be right back.
You'll be okay?" he asked,
getting up from the chair.
But Starsky had just turned over onto his side with a groan,
his back to
Hutch.
Hutch stood, hands on hips, frowning down at his sick
friend. Making his way
to the bathroom, he gathered up some supplies he knew might
help, a
thermometer, a wet washcloth, some aspirins and a glass of
water.
When he returned to the bedroom, he found Starsky nearly
asleep, coughing
hoarsely and moaning from the pain.
"Hey, you okay, Gordo?" Hutch asked softly, sitting on the edge of
the bed,
tugging on Starskys' shoulder to turn him onto his back
again.
Tears were streaming down his face to blend with the trails
of sweat pouring
down.
"Hutch..."
he moaned, his voice catching.
"Aw, babe..."
Hutch sighed heavily. "I
know, but you've got to ride this
out." Hutch
thought for a moment, biting his lip.
"Starsk, if you want to
go to the hospital, I'll take you there right now, just say
the word..."
"NO!"
Starskys' raspy voice shouted, although it sounded more like a
whisper, fear shining in his eyes as he weakly reached out to
grab Hutchs'
wrist. "Please,
no, just you... here... please."
he begged.
"Okay, okay."
Hutch reassured him with a pat on his hand. "No hospital,
we'll try getting you better our way." He produced the aspirins and water,
setting the thermometer and washcloth on the nightstand.
"Here, take these for me." he ordered, helping Starsky to sit up enough
to
drink from the glass he held for him. "Easy." he directed, knowing his
friend had nothing left in his stomach and didn't want him vomiting
up the
pills that may speed up his recovery.
Helping him to lie back down and rearrange the pillows more
comfortably
behind his head, Hutch leaned over and picked up the
thermometer, setting the
glass in its' place.
"Open up, buddy,"
he said, setting the thermometer under Starskys' tongue.
"Now shut up."
Starsky managed a weak smile, trying hard to keep his eyes
open. Hutch was
becoming blurry in front of him the longer he tried to stay
awake. He was
fighting a losing battle...
He didn't even realize Hutch had removed the thermometer...
"Hmm...
" Hutch frowned, peering at
the thermometer in the darkness. It
was high, a lot higher than he wanted to see. 104.5...
"We've got to get your fever down, babe." he sighed, grabbing the washcloth
to set on Starskys' forehead, gently pushing aside the brown
locks plastered
there.
"Feels good..."
Starsky mumbled through trembling lips, as he was still
shaking. It was
weird, being hot and cold at the same time.
It'd been a
long time since he'd been THIS sick. And it had come over him so quickly.
There was no warning when he'd left home that morning,
except for a constant
headache he had and couldn't shake. He just thanked God he'd had Hutch to
take such good care of him.
He knew he could never survive this on his
own...
"... go see if
you've got any soup in the kitchen."
Hutch had been
speaking, but Starskys' ears were so closed, and he was in
another world as
everything hummed and echoed around him.
"Mmm..."
Starsky mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Be right back..."
Hutch whispered, patting his partners' chest.
"Not goin' nowhere." Starsky's voice slurred.
Hutch stopped in the doorway and turned to face
Starsky. The scene was
indeed a sad one, Starsky was drawn up into a ball under the
covers, shaking
and now beginning to wheeze.
Great, Hutch thought bitterly, it's gonna'
settle in his lungs.
If that happens, we're heading to the hospital, he
decided. No
arguments, no deals.
Hutch couldn't believe it, he'd gone through every cupboard
in the kitchen -
there was nothing anywhere to be of any help to Starsky, not
a tea bag, not a
cracker, not a can of soup in sight. Nothing.
Starsky was a true bachelor.
There was absolutely zilch.
The thought crossed Hutchs' mind - had Starsky
been eating ANYTHING lately?
"Jesus, Starsk..."
he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he slammed the
last cupboard door shut a bit harder than he'd meant
to. Holding his breath,
he listened for any noise coming from the bedroom, but was
met with silence.
Maybe, if luck was finally on their side, Starsky would have
let the aspirins
do their job and would be fast asleep.
Hutch knew he wasn't THAT lucky.
Picking up the wall phone in the kitchen, Hutch dialed a
familiar number.
"Hey, Hug, it's Hutch." he smiled.
"You busy?"
"Not as of yet, my man, dinner crowds won't be in for a
few hours yet.
Whatcha' need?"
their long time friend asked, tapping a pencil
absentmindedly on the bar.
Hutch went on to explain about Starskys' sudden
illness. "Whatcha' got
cooking that's hot and guaranteed to beat the
flu?" Hutch asked, leaning
against the wall, rubbing his forehead. He was already feeling tired, but
knew he had a long road ahead of him, when Starsk was back
on his feet.
"Hey, how about some of Huggy's special soup for our
ailing friend?" Huggy
asked.
"Uh, Hug, I don't think I can get your Aunt Minnie's
mustard greens soup down
him without ME ending up WEARING it eventually... Hutch began warily,
recalling the time Starsky went into the drink for Hutch and
ended up with a
bad cold. Hug had
offered the infamous green soup then...
"Never fear, Hutch, Doctor Bear is here." Hug laughed into the phone. "I'll
have Diane and Anita whip up some good ol' fashioned chicken
soup and herbal
tea for Starsk. Bring
some oj, too. Gotta' build up Starskys'
strength."
"Thanks, Hug."
Hutch smiled. "I knew I
could count on you."
"Always. And
Hutch?" Huggy added. "I'll bring along some goodies for
yourself. If you're
at Curlys' place, it's a safe bet there's nothing there
for YOU but Cocoa Puffs and nasty year old frozen
burritos."
"Bless you, Huggy!" Hutch chuckled. He hadn't really eaten anything since
yesterday's lunch and was starting to get really hungry.
"Be there soon as I can, Hutch. You need anything else?"
"Can't think of anything right off hand, Hug, but it I
come up with anything,
I'll try to catch you before you leave. And Hug?
Thanks again." he added,
sincerely.
"No problemo, Hutchie, no problemo." Huggy waved him off, ending the
conversation with the click of the telephone.
Hands deep in his pockets, Hutch slowly made his way around
the house that
had become his second home, picking up items here and there,
photos of the
two of them, knickknacks they'd bought on vacations
together... poking his
head into the bedroom every once in a while to check on his
friend. Starsky
was finally asleep again, still wheezing but at least he was
still, not
thrashing around like he had been.
Hutch sighed, leaning in the doorway. He caught sight of something
shimmering lying on the dresser. Quietly, he made his way over to it,
cringing at the creaking in spots.
But Starsky still slept, oblivious to the sounds. Hutch didn't want to wake
his friend with any noises.
Hutch picked up the watch that lay atop the dresser,
Starsky's precious $250
Yamamoto watch. Well,
truth be told, it was Yamamoto, Jr. The
second. The
first, original watch had bit the dust when they had been
lured into the trap
at the barn outside the city, just a few short months
earlier. Hutch had to
use the watch as a distraction in order to save his life, and
the watch had
given IT'S live when it was shot in the line of duty. Starsky was horrified
to see his precious watch destroyed. At first, Hutch thought it was
hilarious, but after seeing his best friend so upset over
his loss, Hutch
went out and purchased another Yamamoto watch as a
gift. Even had it
engraved. "A
friend always has the time... love
always, Hutch." Okay,
maybe a bit soapy, Hutch shrugged, but appropriate. Besides, he DID feel bad
about the death of Starskys' watch. He knew how important timepieces were to
him. And Starsky
treated this watch from his best friend with as much
reverence as the watch his father gave him.
Hutch gently fingered the watch, checking the inscription on
the inside that
was slightly worn, thanks to Starsky wearing it each and
every day. Hutch
ran his thump over the engraving with a smile. A friend always has the
time...
The doorbell chime brought him out of his reverie with a
start. Snapping his
head up, he held his breath as he saw Starsky turn over in
bed, from his
right side to his left, finally coming to face the bedroom
door, although
thankfully still fast asleep. Hutch let out the breath he didn't realize
he'd been holding. He
glanced at the watch; had it really been
two and a
half hours since he'd talked to Huggy?
Without thinking, Hutch slipped the watch over his wrist to
rest next to his
own watch and raced out of the room to slide to a stop in
front of the door,
trying to catch the visitor before they rang the doorbell
again. He didn't
want anything waking his best friend.
"Hug! Shut the
hell up!" he admonished as he
opened the door with a whoosh
before he even knew who was at the door. Had to be Huggy, though.
And Huggy it was.
Hug's eyebrows rose in question before he glanced at the
doorbell and realized what Hutch was getting at.
"Sorry, m'man."
he apologized, coming into the living room, his hands full
of sacks. "I
wasn't thinking. Did I wake
him?" he asked, frowning, his
voice dropping in volume.
"No. Sorry,
Hug." Hutch sighed, taking one of
the sacks from Huggy.
"Didn't mean to snap, it's just that he finally dropped
off. He's really
hurtin'."
Hutch's voice dropped off as he looked up longingly towards the
bedroom door.
"He slept through the night, but he tossed and turned a lot."
"C'mon, Blondie."
Huggy directed. "Let's get
this food into the kitchen."
Hutch had to admit, everything smelled great. His stomach growled in
agreement. Hug smiled
up at Hutch at the sound.
Hutch shrugged with a tilt of his blond head as he smiled
sheepishly.
"Whadja' bring?"
"Let's see, the girls sent some of their homemade
chicken soup for Curly.
When they heard Starsk was down for the count, they jumped
on it right off,
left me to tend to the lunch crowd, can you believe
that?" Hutch laughed at
the picture in his mind.
"If they weren't so damned lovely and good for
business, I told 'em they'd be
in the unemployment line.
Lucky for them I have a soft heart."
"Lucky for us all." Hutch smiled softly. "Thanks for coming, Hug. I didn't
know how I was gonna' go out and get some food for him, I
couldn't leave him
all alone here..."
his voice trailed off as he once again turned towards the
bedroom door.
Huggy's eyes flicked between his blond friend and the
bedroom. Clearing his
throat, he went on.
"Yeah, well... I
also brought some special tea, my Aunt Minnie's special
blend - don't worry, no mustard greens and no funny stuff in
it. But
guaranteed to bring Curly around. And for good measure, good ol' fashioned
oj, freshly squeezed by yours truly and these two magic
hands." Hutch
smiled. "You
thought of everything, Hug."
Huggy held his hand up.
"There's more. In bag numero
two, I stopped on the
way over at the pharmacy and picked up some ecoutraments for
our sick one,
cough drops, cough syrup, aspirins, the works." he shrugged.
Seeing the
shine in Hutchs' eyes, yet the droop of his shoulders, he
went on.
"Also in bag numero dos, I also stopped by the local
health food store you
frequent and picked up some God-awful looking items for
vous. I don't have a
CLUE as to what's in here, I just looked for things with the
most amount of
grass on top."
he made a face as he pulled out a number of styrofoam
containers filled with undescribable food. But Hutch lit up at the sight of
them, he was esthatic.
"Huggy! You did
it, you picked my favorites, all of them!"
his voice rose.
"How'd you know?"
"Like I said, my man, I chose the worst looking slop I
could find. Enjoy!"
he smiled, holding out the containers to Hutch.
"This is great, Hug, just great!" he beamed, reaching for his wallet. "How
much I owe you?"
Huggy frowned.
"Hutch. You hurt
my feelings, man." he said,
quietly. "Don't." he
finished, holding up his left hand and patting Hutch's hand
with the other.
"Sorry, Hug."
Hutch smiled back, returning his wallet to his pocket. "I
just want you to know how much I appreciate this. Me and Starsk. I can see
what he say in you a long time ago.." Hutchs' voice dropped off, thinking
back to the early days together, when Starsky first
introduced his new
partner to his old friend Huggy Bear. Bot Hutch and Huggy were wary of each
other at first, but both men knew if each were friends with
Starsky, the
other man had to be okay.
Starsky was a good judge of character.
When you
were part of Starsky's life, you were a friend for life, and
Starsky would
fight to hell and back to protect you... a friend always had time...
A hand on his shoulder brought Hutch back to the
present. On impulse, Hutch
leaned over and pulled Huggy into a strong embrace.
"Thanks, Hug."
he whispered as he clung to the thin black man who returned
the hug.
"It'll be okay, Hutch." Huggy whispered back, patting Hutchs'
back. Hutch
stepped bacj, "I
know, I know..." he sighed, rubbing
his forehead where a
dull headache was building.
"C'mon, let's get some soup into Curly before it gets
cold. And you look
like you could use some sprouts." Huggy grinned.
Hutch pulled away, slightly embarrassed. In all the years they'd known each
other, he'd never hugged Huggy. There had never been a need to. But it felt
as normal as hugging his best friend...
"You're right, it's time I checked in on him,
anyway. It's been too quiet."
"Starsky?
Quiet?" Huggy asked,
wide-eyed as he pulled out a bowl from the
cupboard. "Whoa,
Curly MUST be sick!"
Hutch chuckled, grabbing a spoon to pour some of the soup
into the bowl that
Huggy held. "Um,
smells great! Starsky may have to
share!" Hutch grinned,
his head over the steaming liquid.
"My girls ARE good..." Huggy laughed.
When they quietly entered the dark bedroom, they could hear
the heavy
breathing of Starsky as he slept.
"Man, that's settled in his lungs." Huggy whistled softly. "That ain't
good..."
"That's what I thought." Hutch frowned.
Starsky lay asleep, facing the doorway, curled up into a ball,
the blankets
up around his neck as sweat glistened on his ghostly white
face. He was so
pale. Hutch had left
a small light on in the corner of the room the last
time he checked in on his sick friend, and it cast a soft
glow in the
otherwise dark room.
Starsky was moaning in his sleep and frowned at
something he was probably dreaming. Hutch figured the aspirins must be
wearing off by now.
Huggy stared wide-eyed at his curly haired friend as he sat
on the edge of
the bed. If at all
possible, Starsky looked worse than Hutch when he'd had
the plague a short time not long ago. He thought Hutch looked bad in the
hospital at that time...
the hospital. Huggy had a bad
feeling that Starsky
should be there right now.
Hutch ignored the look that he knew Huggy was giving
him. He knew what Hug
was thinking.
Hospital.
But Huggy's gaze was firm.
"Hutch..." he began.
"I know, Hug."
Hutch interrupted, looking up from where he sat on the bed
next to Starskys' back.
His eyes shone down to his soul;
he was so tired,
after being up with Starsky for a day and a half. Huggy was glad he'd
thought to bring Hutch a number of prepared meals from the
health food store,
Hutch was going to need all the strength he could muster the
next few days.
Huggy could tell this was no run of the mill flu, especially
for Starsky,
especially after the year he'd had so far, with the
poisoning and all.
Hutch went on, sounding so very tired. "We covered that. He's pretty
adamant, NO hospital..." he sighed, setting the bowl of soup on the
nightstand next to the bed.
Rubbing his sore eyes, he ran his hand down his
face, feeling the day old stubble on his chin. "Don't worry, though. It
gets bad enough, he's going whether he likes it or
not." he finished,
determined.
Huggy nodded agreeably.
"I'll help you drag him."
he offered, bringing a
grin to Hutchs' face.
"Hey, buddy..."
Hutch turned his attention to Starsky, gently shaking his
shoulders. "Wake
up, you've got a visitor."
It took Starsky a minute to wake fully, groaning as he tried
to brush away
Hutchs' hand. He
wanted to sleep. He didn't feel the pain
in his head and
stomach as bad when he was asleep. It hurt too much to be in the land of the
living.
"Hush?" his
voice slurred as he tried to open his burning, tired eyes to his
surroundings.
"It's me, buddy."
Hutch soothed. "Huggy's
here, he brought you some chicken
soup. The girls made
it 'specially for you."
Starsky peered through one open eye at a blurry Huggy Bear
on the bed next to
him.
"Hey, Hug."
he tried to sound pleased, but at the moment, he just wanted
sleep. Painfree,
blissful sleep.
"Smells good."
he lied, shivering under the blankets as he tried to turn
over onto his back.
The last thing he'd wanted was food, hs stomach would
rebel. "Tell
Diane and Rita I said thanks."
Huggy grinned.
"'kay, Starsky. I'll tell
Diane and ANITA." he corrected
for what seemed like the hundredth time since the auburn
haired, dark skinned
beauty had started working for him at The Pits. Starsky could never seem to
get her name right, but it didn't bother her much
anymore. Starsky had soon
come to endear himself to her, the Starsky charm once again
working its'
magic on her. As far
as she was concerned, Starsky could call her anything
he wanted, as long as he called her...
"Doesn't matter anyway, Curly." Huggy went on, standing p from the bed and
bending over at the waist.
"YOU can than them yourself when you're better.
YOu take care of yourself, and listen to Hutch." he ended seriously, wagging
his pointed finger at Starsky and then up to Hutch,
enunciating the last
three words.
"Capece?"
Starsky chuckled as much as he dared, frowning at the sudden
pounding in his
head. "You got
it, Hug." he whispered back as he
shivered under the covers.
"'kay, bud."
Huggy whispered back, impulsively setting his hand tenderly in
Starskys' damp curls, something he'd never done before. "I'll check back on
ya' later."
Hutch walked Huggy to the door. "He's really hot, Hutch, what's his
temp?"
Huggy frowned.
"Last I checked, about 104.5." Hutch sighed.
Huggy whistled softly. "Too
high."
"I'm trying to bring it down with cool rags, but the
meds you brought should
help a lot. Thanks
for taking the time to come over, I really appreciate
everything..."
Hutch smiled tiredly.
"You gotta' ask?"
Huggy smiled back. "A friend
always has the time.
Speaking of time, what's with the two time zones?" he asked, pointing at
Hutchs' arm.
"You thinking of hittin' the streets soon hawking fake
Rolexes?"
Hutch looked down at his wrist as though he'd grown a third
arm. He'd
forgotten all about sliding Starskys' Yamamoto onto his
wrist when Hug had
arrived earlier.
Shaking his head, he chuckled. "Yeah, can you recommend a good street
corner?"
"Not by my place."
Hugggy clicked his tongue and shook his head. "That's
illegal. Blondie, you
need some rest. You need anything,
anything at all,
you call me. Hell,
call even if you DON'T need anything."
he ordered.
Hutch nodded slowly as their eyes met.
Huggy extended his arms and pulled his friend into another
embrace. "It's
gonna' be allright, Hutch." he said encouragingly. "But if you need to get
him to a hospital, DO it.
Don't listen to Curly, he can be stubborn as a
mule, and will probably be pissed as hell at you, but he'll
get over it."
Hutch embraces Huggy tightly. "I don't know what Starsk and I would do
without your friendship, Hug. I mean it." he whispered.
Before he let go,
he added softly, "Hey, send up a prayer, huh? After all he's been through
this year, I can't lose him now." his voice cracked.
Huggy pulled away with a hand to the back of Hutchs'
neck. "Already taken
care of." he
grinned. "Don't worry, he'll pull
through." he said over his
shoulder as he strode out the door. "Curly ALWAYS pulls through. Like I
said, he's too stubborn..."
Hutch chuckled as he closed the door behind his friend,
leaning against it
with closed eyes.
He stood like that for a minute, two minutes, listening to
Huggy drive away
before he heard the clock on the wall chime six, seven
times. No wonder he
was hungry, the afternoon had turned into evening and he
hadn't eaten in 24
hours. Hutch fingered
the second watch on his wrist. Time was
funny, how
fast it could fly...
suddenly Hutchs' thoughts turned to another point in
their lives when time meant everything. Not long ago, earlier this year in
fact, when Starsky was poisoned by Bellamy, that slime ball
Bellamy who'd
broken into Starskys' house, this very house Hutch stood in,
and set off a 24
hour nightmare that very nearly ended in tragedy. Hutch almost lost his best
friend to a slow, painful death. Hutch had begged like he'd never begged
before for time to slow down, come to a screeching halt if
possible, so
they'd have more time to search for the antidote to the
poison running
through Starskys' system.
They'd almost run out of time then...
and Hutch
was dying along with his best friend a minute, an hour at a
time...
A low moan from the bedroom snapped Hutch back to the
present. The soup...
he should get his friend to eat something to build his
strength if he
intended to fight this bug.
Rounding the corner, Hutch slipped Starskys' Yamamoto off
his wrist and set
it gently back into it's place on the dresser and moved to
sit on the bed
next to Starsky, now lying on his right side, facing Hutch.
"Hey, buddy, feel like trying some chicken soup? It's still nice and hot and
the girls made it just for you." Hutch reminded him. He was playing his
guilt card, but he had one yet up his sleeve. "If you don't at least try
some, I'll call your mother." There.
There was the proverbial ace up his
sleeve.
Starsky eyed Hutch angrily.
"You wouldn't..." he
growled.
Hutch reached for the phone on the nightstand next to the
bed. Starsky
lashed out a trembling hand from under the blankets and
weakly grabbed
Hutchs' wrist to stop him.
"Oh, but I would."
Hutch said determined, an eyebrow raised.
"Hutch.."
Starsky began to whine, his voice turning hoarse by now. "It'll
just come right back up, please don't make me eat..." he begged.
Hutch looked deep into his friend's troubled eyes. "Starsk, I'd never MAKE
you do anything unless I knew it was for your own good. Please, just a
couple spoonfuls? For
me? If you feel sick, just let me know
and we'll
stop."
"Promise?"
Starsky asked timidly. He wa so
tired of throwing up, his
stomach hurt so much...
"You got it, partner." Hutch nodded.
"Want to try to sit up a bit?"
Starsky nodded slowly.
I hope you know what we're doing, Hutchinson, he
thought to himself as Hutch gently pulled Starsky to sit up
against the
pillows in front of the bed's headboard. Starsky had to bring his knees up
as his stomach hurt too much to stretch it out like that,
with his legs out
straight. Hutch
understood and patted Starskys' knees.
"Okay, partner, just a small spoonful to
start." he encouraged, holding out
the spoon of soup over the bowl. Starsky felt like a child, being spoonfed
like this. He hated
feeling so vulnerable...
Starsky had to admit the chicken soup DID smell great. He made a mental note
to thank Huggys' girls in person the minute he was over this
crud and up and
about at The Pits.
And this time, he'd make sure he got Anita's name
right...
He accepted one spoonful and swallowed carefully, Hutch
eyeing him
cautiously.
"Well? Another
spoonful or no?" he asked.
"Give."
Starsky ordered. He was feeling
lucky, despite the situation.
Starsky accepted a second spoonful, then another and
another. Hutch smiled,
he was glad that his sick friend was finally getting some
desparately needed
nourishment. He knew
he'd owed Huggy big time for all of this.
Starsky made it through over half the bowl when he gestured
he'd had enough.
He WAS feeling lucky, but there was no reason to tempt
fate...
"Atta' boy, Starsk." Hutch smiled proudly. You'd swear Starsky had just won
an Olympic gold medal or something, Hutch was beaming so
much.
"You feel okay?"
he asked cautiously through his pride.
"So far, so good..." Starsky sighed. His forehead had once again began to
break out in beads of sweat.
"Hang on."
Hutch said, getting up with the washcloth in hand, disappearing
into the bathroom only to reappear with a freshly wrung
cloth. Sitting
carefully on the bed next to his friend, Hutch gently wiped
Starskys' face.
"Mmm..."
Starsky moaned, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Feels good?"
Hutch asked quietly.
Starsky nodded slowly.
"Um hm. Thanks, buddy."
"You're welcome."
Hutch smiled back warmly.
"Think maybe you could grab a
few winks of sleep?
You look pretty tired and rest would help you beat this
thing."
"YOU'RE helping me beat this thing." Starsky sighed, reaching out to lay his
hand tiredly onto Hutch's hand. "But I AM tired." Starsky tried to lie back
onto the pillows Hutch plumped and turned over onto his side
with a groan.
"Oh, my head..."
he mumbled, frowning, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Those three words cut like a knife into Hutchs' heart. He was reminded of a
time, not long ago, when he first heard his partner mutter
those very words.
The Italian restaurant.
A night from hell. How he tried
to explain to a
bleeding, shocky Starsky what had happened, how they were
ambushed and
Starsky was shot.
Twice. Losing blood fast. Again, time worked against
them. Lousy
time. Lousing timing. Had they been there an hour earlier or
later...
Standing, Hutch dug into his front jeans pocket and pulled
out the worn gold
pocketwatch he kept there.
Talk about fascination with timepieces... one on
his wrist (well, until a few minutes ago, TWO), and one in
his pocket. But
the one in his pocket was special. He rarely used it, that's what the
wristwatch was for.
But the pocketwatch was a gift, not from his father, as
Starskys' first watch was, this treasure was from his
grandfather. The man
he cherished more than life itself, well, other than the
pale, sweaty,
feverish mess that lie groaning in front of him...