Starsky was forced to wait outside as Dr. Meredith and Judith administered the serum that would save Hutch’s life. He looked through the window, hand on the glass, watching the older doctor push the needle into his partner’s arm and depress the plunger. He wanted desperately to be in there, but had been absolutely forbidden. Not because Starsky was at risk from the plague, but because Hutch would be from his weakened immune system. Starsky could give him a simple bug that could kill Hutch at that point.
So he waited outside and watched for hours, but there was no sign of improvement that he could tell. Nurses went in to check on Hutch regularly, as did Judith and Dr. Meredith, but none of them had good news to tell.
It wasn’t until that night that Judith approached him with a worried, “You should get some rest, Starsky.”
Shaking his head, Starsky replied, “I’ll rest when I know he’s better.”
“It’s good that he’s still…that he hasn’t gotten any worse,” Judith told him. “It’s going to take some time, is all.”
Starsky looked into her concerned, pretty face and asked, “What about the boy, Billy? Is he okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “He’s awake and aware of his surroundings, but still very weak.”
“So why ain’t Hutch?” he questioned bleakly.
Judith sighed, rubbing his arm as she replied, “Billy got it directly from the source, so it’s only natural that he would respond faster. But Hutch is strong and I know that he’s going to be fine. Are you sure you won’t go home and get some sleep?”
Starsky shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”
She offered a wan smile and pet his shoulder before leaving.
Starsky returned to his vigil.
* * * *
When Hutch made his way through the cloying darkness to the light of consciousness, it was to find himself in a strange, transparent, plastic tent of sorts. Everything was fuzzy, thanks to the crap in his eyes, but he recognized an intensive care tent when he saw one. It hadn’t been all that long ago, really, that he’d seen John in one. He hadn’t expected to wake up at all, after that last round of agonizing pain that was now only a generalized ache all over his body.
Hutch wasn’t all that surprised to find Starsky at his bedside, sprawled over one of his legs and sound asleep. Smiling, he stretched a little and managed to tangle his fingers in the thick, dark hair, relishing the soft feel of it. For a few minutes, he just lay there and enjoyed the knowledge that he was alive and going to make it, and that Starsky was with him.
Starsky yawned several minutes later and then froze in place, apparently feeling Hutch’s fingers combing through his hair.
When watery eyes lifted to his, Hutch smiled at him and said, “Hey, partner.”
Swallowing convulsively a few times, Starsky finally whispered, “Hey yourself. ‘Bout time you woke up.”
Hutch’s smile grew and he asked, “Think you can get someone to clear my eyes? You’re a big blur, Starsk.”
Jumping to his feet, Starsky immediately exclaimed, “You got it, Hutch! Be right back, buddy!” and took off at a run.
Hutch laughed softly to himself, then grimaced at the way his body protested. Starsky was back with a nurse in a couple of seconds and shortly thereafter, he could see clearly.
“I’ll get one of the doctors to check you over, Detective,” she said, smiling.
When she was gone, Starsky sat back down and said, “Damn, Hutch, it’s so good to see you awake again. You were really starting to worry me there.”
Hutch took Starsky’s hand and promised, “No bug’s going to get me, Starsky.”
An odd expression passed over the other man’s face, but Starsky only answered, “It sure won’t.”
Dr. Meredith came in just then,
his smile belied by his worried expression as he greeted, “It’s good to see you
awake, Detective
“Good to be awake, Doc,” Hutch answered. “What’s wrong?”
Sighing, the older man said, “Someone killed Mr. Callendar.”
Hutch felt electrified by the news and wished he could jump up like Starsky, even as he demanded, “What? What happened?”
“It looks like he was smothered,” Dr. Meredith answered heavily. “It sounds cold to say, but I’m glad we got what we needed from him while we had the chance.”
Looking over at Starsky, he found an equally as stunned expression on his partner’s face, but there wasn’t anything he could do from a hospital bed. Starsky, on the other hand… “Starsk, why don’t you go check into it?”
“You sure? I don’t wanna leave you here alone,” Starsky countered.
Hutch waved him off, pointing out, “I’m just going to sleep. And when you’re done with Callendar, go home and get some sleep. You look like crap.”
Starsky snorted. “Thanks, partner.”
“Anytime,” Hutch replied, flashing him a grin.
Starsky gave him a searching look, though for what, Hutch didn’t know, and then left with a wave to both of them.
Alone with Dr. Meredith, Hutch asked, “So how bad is it? Can you keep making an antivirus from the amount of blood you have?”
Pulling the penlight from his coat pocket, Dr. Meredith closed the distance to the bed and assured him, “As long as a hundred new cases don’t suddenly come in, we should be fine.”
Somewhat comforted, Hutch relaxed and settled in for the exam.
* * * *
Callendar, as it turned out, was definitely smothered. Starsky took a good look at the body and then around the room, but there was nothing at all to indicate who might’ve done it. Not that he’d expected any, since it was a professional hit, but he’d hoped. Knowing that he was in no real shape to keep going the way he was, Starsky borrowed the nurses’ phone and called in.
“Dobey speaking.”
“Cap’n, it’s me,” Starsky answered. “Hutch is awake and doing great, but Callendar’s been murdered.”
There was a short pause, then a loud, “What!?”
Starsky winced, holding the phone from his ear. “I took a look around the scene, but there wasn’t anything to go on. It was definitely a hit, not that I’m surprised.”
“Well, he was a target from the start,” Dobey agreed at last.
“Yeah, no doubt about that. I’m gonna go home and crash for a couple hours, now I know Hutch is okay. I’ll come in and check on the coroner’s report at about three.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You go home and stay there until tomorrow. I catch sight of you here today and you’re on suspension, you hear me Starsky?”
Not really unhappy with the order, Starsky just grinned and said, “I think the whole floor heard you, Cap’n.”
“Good!” Dobey barked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Starsky shook his head as he hung up, then winked at the pretty nurse behind the counter. “You should see him when he’s really ticked.”
She giggled a little and he had a passing thought to ask her out, but then decided to just go home.
* * * *
Waking the next morning was a completely different experience for Hutch. He felt alert and almost completely back to normal, which was good, but made him itch to hop out of bed and go home.
Judith came to see him as he finished up the last of his runny eggs and gave him a warm smile. “You look much better!”
“I feel it, too,” Hutch confirmed. “Any news on when I can get out of here?”
She shook her head and replied, “I want to keep you for another day, just in case, but see no reason you can’t go home tomorrow.”
“Thank God,” Hutch said, heartfelt.
Laughing softly, she sat on the edge of his bed and asked, “You don’t like our hospitality?”
Hutch captured one of her hands and answered, “The hospitality’s fine, when you’re around.”
The smile faded, just a little, and she began, “Hutch, I need to tell you that…”
“Excuse me, Doctor, but Dr. Meredith is looking for you,” a nurse interrupted. “He said to tell you that it’s urgent.”
Cursing the woman’s timing, Hutch managed to force a smile as he released her hand and said, “Go on and see what he wants. We can talk later.”
She looked torn, but ultimately nodded and left.
Hutch sank back against the pillows, wondering if he was destined to always have bad luck with women. Either it was the right woman at the wrong time, like this seemed to be, or the wrong woman altogether, but he was too blinded by love to see it. He and Starsky both seemed to be cursed in the romantic department.
Sighing, he picked up one of the magazines and started leafing through it, waiting for Starsky to show up.
* * * *
Three hours, several unanswered calls to Starsky’s place, and three fruitless calls to the precinct later, Hutch was ready to go out of his mind with a combination of boredom and worry. Dobey had told him that he’d ordered Starsky not to come in until today, and so wasn’t really worried. Hutch knew the captain was probably right, that Starsky was just sleeping off an insanely exhausting two days, but it nagged at him. Starsky always picked up the phone, in case it was the precinct or Hutch.
Flashbacks to Starsky being
poisoned ran through him, upping the worry as three hours turned into five and
It was around three in the afternoon that Judith arrived, along with a nurse pushing a tray on wheels. The grim expression on her face signaled that it wasn’t their attraction she wanted to talk about.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s been another outbreak,” Judith told him. “The blood we had from Mr. Callendar is gone.”
Stunned, Hutch demanded, “How could that happen?”
“It was either mislabeled and destroyed, or stolen.”
“So what now?”
“I hate to say this, but we need your blood, Hutch. We’ve already called Bobby’s mother to bring him in, as well as the other survivors. Even then, there’s no guarantee that what we take from you will be as effective in fighting this outbreak. If the disease has mutated during the spread of the infection, then we’ll be helpless.”
Hutch held out his arm and offered, “Take what you need.”
“Thank you,” she replied, motioning the nurse forward with her apparatus.
It was about fifteen minutes later that the blood had been taken and while the nurse carefully labeled it, Judith said, “Thank you for this, Hutch. I need to go, but I’ll try and check in with you later.”
He waved her off. “Go do what you do best, Judith.”
She took a moment to caress his hair, then hurried out of the room with the nurse and his blood.
Still shocked at the turn events had taken, Hutch lay back against the pillows and didn’t try to fight his depleted body’s need for rest.
* * * *
It was in the middle of the night the next time Hutch woke up and for a few minutes he just lay there, trying to figure out what had woken him. He felt completely fine and the phone hadn’t rung, but something was out of place, he could feel it in his gut. Sitting upright, Hutch rubbed his eyes clear and swung his legs over the side of the bed to take a trip to the bathroom. Once there, he splashed some water over his face and took care of business, still with that nagging feeling that something was wrong.
Grabbing the flimsy robe, Hutch opened the door and stepped out only to be almost run over by the two nurses and a gurney. The entire place was barely-controlled chaos, with some people huddled in chairs, shivering and sweating with fever, while others were collapsed unconscious on the nearest flat surface, even the floor. Recognizing an emergency state when he saw one, Hutch turned back around into his room and got dressed as fast as he could.
Hutch headed straight for the lab where he’d seen the two CDC doctors working before, but it was empty. He had to grab three different nurses before getting a location on Judith and Dr. Meredith in the ER. What they were doing there, he had no idea, but he ran there as fast as he could, grateful that his body had recovered fast.
Judith was in the middle of taking blood from a patient when he got there, while Dr. Meredith was hunched over a microscope right there at a supply station. Hurrying over to Judith, he asked, “Can I help?”
Clearly startled to see him, Judith shook her head and replied, “Unfortunately, not. The best thing you can do is stay out of the way. Or, actually, if you go see Tara, the redhead over there, she can put you to work hauling people into available rooms. Assuming you feel up to that?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” he confirmed with a very brief smile.
She echoed it with an even shorter one of her own. “Good! Thanks, Hutch, it’s appreciated.”
For the next two hours, Hutch found himself bringing all the people sick with what he’d had, into a semblance of order. With the EMTs pitching in after their latest run, the five extra healthy bodies made a real difference in getting things under control. When it looked like things were going to run a little smoother, he went looking for Judith and Dr. Meredith, this time finding them back in the lab.
Judith summoned a faint smile for him when he joined them and asked, “Everything under control?”
“For now,” he replied. “As long as there’s not another influx like that. So what’s going on?”
Looking positively grim, Dr. Meredith answered, “The virus has mutated. What we’ve got from you and the others is useless. I’ve called the CDC to let them know to quarantine the city.”
Aghast, Hutch exclaimed, “There’s nothing you can do?”
“All we can do is treat the symptoms and pray that people make it through,” Judith said tiredly.
Thinking quickly, Hutch said, “What about the surrounding towns? The people who commute in to work will have brought it outside the city limits by now.”
Dr. Meredith sighed and
explained, “Most likely the quarantine will be at least a hundred mile radius
outside
Hutch’s thought, then, was for Starsky. If he’d caught this thing, if he was home alone and Hutch didn’t get there before Martial Law was imposed, his partner would surely die. “Where’s the phone?”
Judith pointed across the room and he rushed over there, calling Starsky’s house again, then the precinct, and asked to be put through to Dobey.
“Hutch, we’ve got a real mess on our hands,” Dobey told him, voice filled with tension. “One of the television stations put out an emergency bulletin and now it’s complete chaos. I need you on the streets if you’re good enough to get there.”
Relieved, Hutch replied, “So Starsky’s on the streets already.”
There was a pause before Dobey countered, “I thought he was with you.”
“I haven’t seen him all day, Captain,” Hutch said, trying not to panic. “Are there any units in the area? I need a ride to his place.”
“Damn it! I can’t spare anyone, Hutch, I’m sorry, I wish I could. You’re going to have to get there on your own.”
Hutch nodded, having expected that answer, and said, “I’ll call you from Starsky’s.”
“Be careful,
Hutch hung up and ran for it, not even bothering to say goodbye to the two worried doctors. He had very little time to find a car and hotwire it in order to get to his partner.
* * * *
Using his key, Hutch let himself into Starsky’s place and called out his partner’s name. There was no answer and he quickly scanned the living room and kitchen with no sign of him. The bathroom was the next fast trip, also empty, and then the bedroom, where Starsky was sprawled on the floor. Rushing to his side, Hutch knelt and fearfully felt for a pulse, relief sagging through him on finding one.
He carefully rolled Starsky on his back, not needing to touch his forehead to check for fever; the sweaty face and soaked hair spoke of it all too readily. Despair shot through him, knowing there was no cure for Starsky at the hospital. Forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath, Hutch gently shook Starsky’s shoulder and asked, “Starsky? Can you hear me, partner?”
Starsky didn’t even twitch at his voice, which was a very bad sign. Hutch rapidly undressed the other man, then hauled him as carefully as possible over his shoulder and staggered to the bathroom. It always surprised him, how heavy his partner was, despite his smaller frame. Starsky was all muscle and weighed a ton. He was also burning hot, which sent a new bolt of fear through Hutch, but he ignored it as best he could, turning on the water to a cold temperature. He carefully lowered Starsky into the tub, grunting at the effort it took to keep the descent controlled and gentle.
As soon as the water began to immerse him, Starsky revived enough to moan and struggle to get away. The wordless cries were heartbreaking, but Hutch steeled himself and held his partner down, tilting the temperature even colder. He had to break the fever before brain damage set in and this was the fastest way to do it. He remembered being on the other end of just such a treatment when he’d had some kind of childhood treatment, his mother’s hands firm but gentle, unyielding as he fought to get out of the icy bath, crying. This was even worse, though, because he was the one holding down the person he loved.
The tub was full enough to start splashing water over the sides, so he let go of Starsky long enough to turn off the faucet. Starsky was half out of the tub in the few seconds that took, but Hutch easily overpowered him and then whispered, “Forgive me, Starsk,” and pushed him all the way under so that his head was submersed. The other man reacted violently, his fist catching Hutch in the mouth and splitting it open, but Hutch only let him up for a huge, gasping breath before shoving him back under.
It took five agonizing repetitions and getting a black eye and bruised cheek before the fight left Starsky and he simply lay there, letting Hutch do whatever he wanted. He didn’t know if this was because the other man had finally recognized him, or because he was just too exhausted to fight, but Hutch prayed it was the former. His own hands and arms were freezing from being dunking in the bitter cold water, so he knew just how painful the whole ordeal was on Starsky.
Touching his partner’s forehead, he was relieved to find it distinctly cooler, though still warm to the touch. Hutch let out half the water, then refilled it with colder water. Returning to his spot at the head of the tub, Hutch tenderly brushed the soaked curls off Starsky’s forehead and drew in a shaky breath of his own before pushing the other man back under the water, one hand covering the mouth and nose to keep out the water, now that Starsky wasn’t fighting him. Hauling him back up, Hutch let them both rest there a while.
Logically, he knew that he could fight the fever and keep Starsky quiet and comfortable, but he also knew that he could do absolutely nothing about what was going on under the skin. His partner’s insides were being shredded by the fucking thing and he had no recourse, no cure. He’d never felt so hopeless in all his life, not even when Starsky had been shot and bleeding out in the back of that damn Italian restaurant or injected with poison. They’d always come out on top before, but Hutch honestly didn’t see a happy ending this time.
“Hutch?” Starsky whispered weakly.
Blinking through the tears, wiping them quickly away, Hutch forced a smile for his partner and cupped the back of his neck. “Yeah, Starsk, it’s me. How’re you feeling?”
“Freezing,” Starsky answered. “Hurts.”
Swallowing against the lump those tiny words evoked, Hutch said, “I know, partner, I’m sorry. You’ve got a bad fever and I need to bring it down.”
“I got it, don’t I?” Starsky questioned, looking strangely calm.
Hutch’s breath hitched, but he nodded. They’d never lied to one another and he wasn’t about to start.
Offering a brief, wry grin, Starsky said, “So much for going out with a bang.”
“You’re not going out at all!” Hutch snarled fiercely. “You’re going to beat this thing!”
Starsky brought up a shaking hand to grip Hutch’s at his neck and comforted, “Ah Hutch, buddy, it’s okay. You didn’t do this to me. Just luck of the draw, you know? And, I guess if I gotta die, having you with me is the way I want it.”
Hutch didn’t bother to fight the tears as he shook his head. “I can’t let you go, Starsky, I can’t.”
“Nothing you can do about it, babe,” Starsky murmured, exhaustion clearly dragging him under again. “You mind getting me out of here? I’d rather be hot and sweaty in my own bed, instead of cold and shriveled in the tub when it happens.”
And somehow, Starsky managed to imbue a lecherous meaning into the words, wriggling his eyebrows and giving Hutch a faint grin in the deep blue eyes. It utterly broke Hutch, knowing that he was going to lose this light from his life, and he sobbed without shame, clutching to Starsky like a child to its dying mother. Weak arms surrounded him and, for a timeless period, Starsky comforted him with soft words and a hand petting his hair. When he finally got control of himself again and pulled back enough to touch foreheads with Starsky, Hutch whispered, “I love you, Starsk, I can’t lose you.”
“Love you, too, Hutch,” Starsky echoed softly. He nuzzled briefly at Hutch’s throat and ordered, “Now c’mon, partner, get me out of here.”
It took an effort, both of them uncoordinated with grief, but they finally got Starsky out of the tub. Hutch took his time drying Starsky off, using the softest towel he could find and glad, for once, that his partner was such a hedonist. He gently dried the thick hair and then placed a kiss on the top of Starsky’s head.
Starsky hummed in appreciation and muttered, “Feels good, partner.”
Wiping his own face with the towel before casting it aside, Hutch put his shoulder under Starsky’s and hauled him to his feet. It was a short walk to the bedroom where he set the other on the bed, then drew the blankets around him and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You joining me?” Starsky asked through a yawn.
Hutch combed his fingers through Starsky’s curls and said, “I’m going to get cleaned up first, then I’ll be right back. You want some juice or something?”
“Nah, don’t think I could keep it down and I don’t want to throw up here,” Starsky told him.
Nodding, Hutch kissed his temple before leaving the bedroom and returning to the bathroom. Silently closing the door and then turning on the shower, Hutch slammed his fist repeatedly into the wall, not stopping until his knuckles were bloody and swollen, indicating broken bones. The pain was nothing compared to the savage ache in his chest, though, and he sat on the toilet, defeated.
It was several long minutes before Hutch could bring himself to strip and get in the shower, cleaning off the dried blood from his face and the fresh blood from his hand. The red swirl going down the drain held his attention longer than it should have and he abruptly came back to himself with worry for Starsky being so long unattended. His whole body felt pummeled, but Hutch forced himself to dry off and wrap his hand with the gauze and tape in the First Aid kit beneath the sink.
Starsky didn’t comment on the bandaged hand, just gave a wry smile on seeing it and held up the covers. Hutch climbed into the too-warm cocoon and wrapped his arms around Starsky, holding his partner against his chest, feeling the scratch of the thick chest hair against his own, near bare torso. The fever had come back with a vengeance, it seemed, Starsky’s skin burning hot to the touch all along his body.
“When I get better,” Starsky
began. “I wanna go to
Hutch huffed in amusement and agreed, “You got it, partner.”
They didn’t talk after that, exhaustion pulling both men into darkness without a fight.
* * * *
It was in the small hours of the morning that Starsky woke, shaking and sweating with a dual slam of blistering heat and freezing cold smothering him. Hutch still slept beneath him and even though the sickness made thinking hard and the pain further depleted him, Starsky started saying everything that he’d been too much of a coward to say while healthy and not staring death in the face.
He talked about how much he loved Hutch, how much he wanted to be Hutch’s everything, just like the corny songs always said. That he’d loved Hutch for a long time and hoped Hutch felt the same, but was too much a chicken to find out for sure. He promised Hutch that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t responsible. Told him how he had to live a good, long life and help put things back together. That he’d been saved for a reason.
His voice gave out before the words did, because he was repeating himself, unable to stop saying how much he loved Hutch. As he fell back into darkness, Starsky held tight to his partner and prayed that the other man would be able to find some kind of happiness in what was sure to be a hellish world when the body count was finally tallied.
* * * *
Hutch felt the wrongness in Starsky’s body, the cool deadweight waking him from a sound sleep. With shaking, fearful fingers, eyes still closed, he touched Starsky’s throat for a pulse. It was something of a shock to find one and his eyes instantly opened. Starsky was out cold, his face lax and ashen. But he was still alive, somehow, on the third day of his illness. Almost the fourth day, a quick look at the clock confirmed. A whole day after he should be dead. He should have died sometime during the night. Hope burst painfully in his heart and he carefully rolled them so that Starsky was on his back.
Propping the other man on the pillows to help with the barely-there breathing, Hutch stared down at him for a long moment. Bending in close, he said fiercely into Starsky’s ear, “C’mon, Starsky, fight this. Stay with me,” then pressed his lips to the tiny bit of skin just before the hair started growing.
Sitting upright, Hutch took one of Starsky’s hands in his and waited, his eyes never leaving the still form of his partner.
* * * *
Starsky couldn’t remember feeling so weak in his life, barely having the strength to open his eyes and blink against the crud that was practically sealing his eyes shut. It was light out, sunlight pouring in the side window, and he found Hutch sound asleep beside him, their hands joined. One or both of them stunk to high-heaven and Hutch’s face had a couple of ugly bruises on it, his right eye blackened like he’d been in a fight. He tried to talk, but couldn’t, his voice stuck in his chest. Clearing his throat and grimacing at the phlegm it loosened, Starsky used his free hand to grab the bowl on the bedside table and spat into it.
The noise woke Hutch and he sat up, a wild, alarmed expression in place. Starsky tried to set the bowl back, but lost his grip and it fell to the floor, spilling water, washcloth and body fluids on the floor. Shock seemed to have rendered Hutch mute, so Starsky rasped, “Cat gotcha tongue, Hutch?”
Hutch stared at him a few more seconds, face blank as he struggled with emotion. The sound of pure emotion that escaped him raised the hair on the back of Starsky’s neck and he instantly opened his arms. There were no tears as Starsky held him, not like before in the tub, but he felt the shaking of his partner’s body and wondered just what the other man had been through while he’d been essentially dead to the world. Knowing that it was always harder on those who had to stand by helplessly and watch their loved ones die, Starsky stayed quiet and gave Hutch the time he needed to get hold of himself.
It was a good twenty minutes later that Hutch finally breathed deep and pulled back enough to stare into his eyes. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Starsk.”
Starsky grinned broadly and countered, “So’re you, Hutch, but you think we can clean off? You smell.”
Hutch laughed outright at that, a purely delighted sound that reassured Starsky more than anything.
“Me? I’m not the one who’s been sweating bullets for the last three days, buddy,” Hutch told him, even as he moved to oblige Starsky.
It was a slow trip to the bathroom and Starsky didn’t even try to do it himself, leaning on his partner and letting Hutch half-carry him there. It didn’t come as much of a surprise to learn that he’d been out for three or four days, maybe longer considering the time before Hutch had found him. His body was exhausted and just walking the fifteen or so paces to the bathroom had him panting for air. Hutch set him carefully on the toilet seat and made sure he was steady before turning on the bath and getting the temperature right.
Sinking into the hot water was bliss and he moaned in pleasure as he lay in it. “God, that’s good.”
Hutch smiled at him and said, “Good. Think you can keep from drowning while I get you some juice? You’ve got to be dehydrated.”
“Yeah, that’s sounds good,” Starsky agreed, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was. Not to mention wanting to get rid of the sewer rat that seemed to have died in his mouth.
It was only a few minutes until Hutch came back with the whole carton of OJ and a glass full of it. He set the carton on the sink then sat on the edge of the tub and helped Starsky slowly drink the juice. Feeling unusually full just from that, Starsky waved more aside and closed his eyes to enjoy the rest of his bath. Hutch’s fingers combed through his hair in a light scalp massage and he sighed happily, commenting, “This is definitely heaven.”
Hutch chuckled and replied, “Not until after I’m done with my shower. And speaking of getting clean, I’m going to change the bed. Yell if you need me or think you’re going to fall asleep here.”
Nodding, Starsky agreed placidly, “I will, partner.”
A brief kiss brushed his lips and then Hutch was gone, humming to himself as he went. Starsky stared after him in surprise, his fingers coming up to touch his lips, and then a smile that wouldn’t quit surfaced on his face. It looked like he hadn’t hallucinated that part of their bedside confessions.
The water grew cool before Hutch got back, so Starsky forced himself to sit upright and let out the water and replaced it with hot water. He grabbed the soap and nearest washcloth and started cleaning himself, eager to get rid of the stink now that he was a little rested and nourished by the juice. He dunked a few times and then started in on his hair, grimacing at its greasy quality and wondering how on earth Hutch could’ve touched it, the way it had been.
When he was done, Hutch was leaning against the sink with another glass of juice in hand. Thirsty again, Starsky accepted the help in drinking it and sighed in contentment when it had been drained.
“All right, partner, let’s get you out of there,” Hutch ordered.
In the process of drying off, Starsky stopped Hutch and took a dramatic whiff of him before teasing, “Told you it was you.”
Hutch laughed, blue eyes crinkling with good humor, and swatted him lightly on the ass. “Let’s get you into bed and then I’ll hose off.”
“I dunno, Hutch, I don’t think that’s gonna do it,” Starsky countered, grinning. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Gee, thanks, Starsk,” Hutch replied, dry.
He helped Starsky back into bed and Starsky sank gratefully onto the mattress, his body shaking with the effort of having been up, if not very active, for so long. The sheets were cool and comfortable and he sighed in relief, letting himself drift into a light doze. He listened to the shower and then the noises of Hutch puttering around the kitchen, the sounds soothing. The smell of toast preceded Hutch into the room and Starsky roused enough to smile and ask, “Breakfast?”
“More like supper, but who cares?” Hutch replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How’re you feeling now?”
Taking the offered toast, he thought as he chomped down the buttery goodness, then answered, “Like I got steamrollered, but otherwise okay.”
Hutch’s hand centered on his forehead, then slid around to cup Starsky’s cheek. “You feel normal, thank God, no more fever.”
Worried about the shuttered expression that surfaced in response to whatever dark thoughts were going around Hutch’s brain, Starsky teased lightly, “Hey, I thought you were agnostic.”
“Not any more,” Hutch replied fervently. “Not after the last few days, Starsk. Not after...”
Starsky gripped Hutch’s hand tight and said, “I’m okay, Hutch, I’m gonna be fine. I don’t know how or why, but I’m not lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth, here.”
Hutch nodded raggedly and Starsky pulled him in close, taking his mouth in a firm, reassuring kiss. It felt strange in that it didn’t feel at all strange to be kissing Hutch; like this had been something they’d been doing all along, or should’ve been, anyhow. Hutch groaned, a pained, needy sound, and deepened the kiss, devouring Starsky’s mouth hungrily and tasting the inside with his tongue. Overwhelmed by sensation and a need of his own, Starsky lay back against the pillows, bringing Hutch with him and opening his mouth further in encouragement. As long as he didn’t actually have to get too energetic, he was more than down with a nice, long, make-out session. Kissing had always been one of his favorite things in the world.
Stretching out on the bed beside him, Hutch continued the exploration at a leisurely pace, one of his hands rubbing slowly back and forth over Starsky’s chest. He felt Hutch harden against his hip and slid a hand down to take hold of the shaft. Hutch gasped into the kiss at the contact, thrusting against his grip. Starsky could tell it was going to be over quick and, since there was no way his body was in any shape to join in, he tightened his hand and stroked up and down a few times, hard and fast. He didn’t want Hutch going all noble and denying himself just because Starsky couldn’t get it up. It worked, because Hutch jerked and moaned into his mouth, wet heat spurting over Starsky’s hand and abs only seconds later.
Breathing hard, Hutch returned to kissing him, smaller, harder kisses that eventually calmed down into gentle ones. When they stopped altogether, Hutch just resting on him, Starsky smiled fondly and said through a yawn, “Think you can sleep now, babe?”
Hutch nuzzled at his throat and nodded. “Yeah, Starsk, I can definitely sleep now, thanks partner.”
“Anytime, Hutch, and I mean that,” Starsky teased, nipping at a bare shoulder.
Chuckling, Hutch cleaned Starsky off with a couple of tissues, then pulled the covers up and settled down alongside him again. Darkness fell shortly after that and as he drifted slowly into sleep, Starsky couldn’t help wondering how the rest of the country had fared and how many of their friends were even still alive. It was a wonder the thoughts didn’t give him nightmares, and Starsky knew he had Hutch’s solid presence around him to thank for it.
* * * *
First on the list to check on had been Huggy, but they hadn’t been able to find the lanky fast-talker anywhere. He wasn’t at The Pits or any of his other haunts. Neither wanted to think of him as being dead, so he was temporarily pushed aside in favor of checking on the Dobeys. They were both shocked at the amount of devastation that had managed to happen in the span of less than a week. There were entire apartment buildings burned to the ground, people lying dead on the street, shattered windows that indicated looting from the survivors. It was almost too much to take in and Hutch found himself holding Starsky’s hand just to reassure himself that they were both still alive.
It was a even more of a shock to find both the Captain and Edith dead in their bedroom, the signs pointing to the Captain taking care of Edith until she’d died and then succumbing himself to the disease. Even more disheartening, Rosie and Cal were nowhere to be found.
Sinking into the living room sofa with a sigh, Hutch said, “They could still be alive.”
“Sure they are!” Starsky confirmed emphatically. “They probably just went lookin’ for something to eat.”
Hutch didn’t have the energy to point out that no child would want to stay in the same house as their dead parents. Instead, he asked, “What do you want to do now?”
“We gotta bury them,” Starsky answered.
Nodding agreement, Hutch said, “We should do it now, then, before we run out of steam.”
Starsky hesitated before suggesting, “I’ll start digging if you, if you get them ready?”
Even though he hated Starsky
putting that much strain on his body so soon, Hutch couldn’t order him to do
nothing. It would be cathartic, at the least. And it wasn’t as though he could
do it, not with his hand in the shape it was. Nodding again, Hutch got to his
feet and headed slowly upstairs. He was in the main hall when a noise above caught
his attention and he froze for a few seconds, then
hurried over to the trap door that led to the attic. Pulling it down, he
called, “
“Is Rosie...?” Hutch couldn’t finish the question.
Rosie appeared at his question, dark eyes wide with fear and sadness.
Holding his hands up, he urged, “Come on, Rosie, let’s get you downstairs and make you something to eat.”
She clambered carefully down
the first few rungs of the fold-up ladder then jumped into Hutch’s arms, which
instantly went around her, holding tight.
Smiling, Hutch answered, “He’s outside and fine. He, well, recovered.”
“Good,”
Hutch met his gaze calmly and said, “Digging.”
“You don’t have to, Cal. You can take care of Rosie while I take care of your parents,” Hutch told him.
But
Hutch gripped his shoulder and stated firmly, “You did the right thing.”
They walked downstairs and Hutch sat Rosie down at the kitchen table, despite her protest. He rifled around the counters until he found some cookies and brought them back to the table. Spotting her coloring book on a different counter, he grabbed it and the crayons, setting both in front of her.
Tugging lightly on a ponytail, Hutch said, “I have to do something now, Rosie, we all do. Can you be a big girl and stay here? I don’t want you to move from this spot until one of us comes to get you, okay?”
Rosie nodded solemnly and opened the coloring book.
Saddened by how silent the normally bubbly little girl was, Hutch sighed to himself and returned to his former task.
* * * *
Starsky had been thrilled when
Starsky didn’t try and cheer
the kid up, wondering how his own family was doing all the way back in
“I don’t know,
“Thanks, Starsky.”
Putting an arm over the slender
shoulders, Starsky told him, “It’ll get better,
“Starsky. I’m ready if you guys are,” Hutch said quietly, joining them.
Starsky stood and took another look at the holes they’d climbed out of a few minutes earlier. He was exhausted, but there was no point in putting it off any longer. Different kinds of disease would start to surface, the longer bodies were left unattended. “Let’s do it.”
The three men went upstairs and first carried the Captain down, wrapped tightly in clean gray sheets. They lowered him silently into the grave with rope that Starsky had found in the garage. Edith was next, wrapped in pretty flowered sheets, and lain over her husband in the deep hole. That done, Starsky and Cal waited while Hutch went to get Rosie from the house. It was several minutes before he returned with her clinging to his neck.
“We all know how good these two souls were,” Hutch said quietly, but firmly. “They didn’t deserve to die like this, but then, none of the victims of this horrible disease did. I know that I’ll never forget them. Rest in peace, Captain and Edith. I’m going to miss you both.”
“Amen,” Starsky echoed strongly, wiping at his eyes.
“Rosie, honey, do you want to say goodbye to your parents?” Hutch asked, rubbing her back.
Rosie shook her head and said, “Mommy and Daddy are in heaven now, right?”
Offering a sad smile, Hutch nodded. “They definitely are, Rosie. Looking down on us and keeping an eye on you and Cal.”
Rosie looked up at the now-dark sky and smiled tremulously before resting her head on Hutch’s shoulder again.
Hutch nodded to Starsky and brought Rosie back inside.
Groaning faintly as he looked
at the mound of dirt waiting to be returned to its former place, Starsky
clapped
* * * *
Rosie and Cal bunked down in
the living room at Hutch’s place that night. If
“God that feels good,” Starsky moaned, voice muffled in the pillow.
Hutch grinned and informed him, “It could feel a lot better if we didn’t have two kids in the very next room.”
Starsky snorted, turning his face to the side as he said, “Speaking of which, the feeling better part, I mean, just how much, ah, experience, you got with this kinda thing?”
Hesitating only briefly, Hutch replied, “I’ve had a few lovers over the years since Vanessa and I split.”
“And you didn’t think I might want to know that?” Starsky asked pointedly.
Hutch rubbed his hands hard up Starsky’s spine and countered, “That’s not really something you just drop into conversation, Starsk.”
Sighing, Starsky agreed, “No, I guess not. And it’s good one of us knows what he’s doing.”
“Oh you knew exactly what you were doing the other night,” Hutch murmured into his ear. “Don’t worry, Starsk, the first night we have alone to ourselves, I’m going to show you everything you need to know. And in the meantime, there’s always handjobs in the shower.”
Starsky snorted. “You romantic, you.”
Hutch chuckled and lay beside him, staring into the deep blue eyes, intensely grateful for all the time he now had left with Starsky. Whatever miracle had made him immune to the disease had given them a second chance to be together as they were truly meant to be.
“Hey, Hutch.”
“Yeah, Starsky?”
Starsky smiled. “I love you, babe.”
Hutch smiled back. “Love you too, Starsk.”
Holding his partner as Starsky grew heavy with sleep, Hutch couldn’t help but stare into the darkness and wonder what fate had in store for them next.