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Part Two

Carol & Valerie Wells

   A couple of days later, the doctor tried a new procedure he called "ultrasound" on Lydia, to check the condition of the baby. Hutch went with her, at her request, to the examining room.

   Lydia was still in so much pain and so weak she couldn't even grasp his hand, but he held onto hers anyway as the technician moved the scanner over her abdomen. And her eyes never left the screen. Hutch was open-mouthed with wonder, and even Lydia managed a smile at the sight.

   "She seems to be fine," the technician said.

   "She?" Hutch asked.

   "You can tell, sometimes, if the baby's willing to cooperate," the technician said, pointing at the screen. "See there? That's a girl baby."

   "A girl...," Lydia said slowly. "David said he hoped it would be a girl." She looked up at Hutch, her face still so pale that her eyes were like dark pools. "Will you...will you tell him, Hutch?"

   "Of course I will," Hutch promised.

   But Starsky hadn't regained consciousness by the end of the day. The doctor told Hutch and Rachel that he'd stopped the drugs to keep Starsky out and he should be waking up naturally by now. What he didn't add, but Hutch thought with a sinking heart, was that this was a very, very bad sign.

   Which worried him almost as much was Lydia's condition. True, she was conscious, but her pallor had become even more pronounced these last couple of days. She no longer tried to talk; it tired her too much. And she was so weak she couldn't even attempt to squeeze back when Hutch held her hand.

   Her parents had become shadows of themselves. They could see it, too. Lydia was getting worse. Rapidly, visibly worse. The doctor only shook his head.

   "The injuries were quite severe," he told Hutch privately, out of hearing of both the Geislers and Rachel. "She hemorrhaged quite a bit in the emergency room. And the baby is taking whatever nutrition we can get into her. It's nature's way. I'm afraid," he paused and glanced into Hutch's eyes, "we may not be able to save her."

   "But why not?" Hutch demanded. For the moment, anger was the emotion uppermost in his heart, though he could feel the slow hopelessness of grief beginning to surface. "This is a goddamned hospital!"

   The doctor didn't take offense. He understood the signs. He shook his head again. "We can't do miracles, Sergeant. I wish we could. But when the body suffers severe trauma--"

   "What, exactly, is this severe trauma?" Hutch asked, a little more calmly.

   "Internal bleeding. The placenta tried to detach," the doctor said. "She was apparently ejected from her seat in the plane, and she hit the ground at about 60 miles per hour. And that's a conservative estimate. Head injuries. Swelling of her brain. Her heart stopped on the examining table, Ken. We had one hell of a time getting it started again."

   Hutch trudged slowly upstairs again to sit at Lydia's bedside and hold her limp, cold hand. She was sleeping, and her breaths were too shallow and slow. Hutch valiantly fought against the tears that threatened.

   And then, her eyes opened. She turned them toward Hutch and saw the expression on his face before he could wipe it away. But by the look in her eyes, she already knew.

   "I'm...not going to...make it...am I?" she whispered.

   Hutch swallowed hard. "Lydia...."

   "Don't...," she paused, drew a slow breath, and finished, "don't lie to me, Hutch."

   Hutch couldn't speak.

   Lydia struggled to get her other hand over to lay it on top of Hutch's. He helped, reaching for the hand and holding both of hers in both of his. "Promise me...something, okay?"

   He nodded, not daring to trust his voice.

   Tears formed in her eyes, and one escaped and rolled down her cheek into the pillow. Hutch gently wiped it away. She drew another long breath. "What I promised you...."

   "I remember," Hutch said, his voice shaking.

   "Do that for me," she said, imploring, her eyes fastened on Hutch's face. "I don't...want to leave...him. And...and our baby...." More tears fell, but Hutch was blinded by his own.

   "I promise, Lydia. I promise." Hutch bent his head and kissed her hands.

   She closed her eyes again. "Love him...tell him...." The heart monitor quit beeping. Hutch sat, head bowed over their still-clasped hands, for several moments, barely even noticing when Huggy softly entered and laid a hand on his shoulder.

   When Hutch finally raised his head, his face was wet with tears, and more were falling. "Oh, Huggy...she's gone."

   "Hey, bro," Huggy said quietly. "I'm right beside you, man."

    Hutch stood up at last, gently folded Lydia's hands together, and bent down to kiss her forehead. He looked down at her for a long time, stroking her hair, before straightening his shoulders and turning to Huggy. "What the hell am I gonna tell Starsky?"

   Telling Starsky wasn't the most immediate concern, however. When Hutch and Huggy went back to the waiting room, they had to face the Geislers and Rachel.

   "My God, what is it?" Rachel rose to meet Hutch, and he put his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair, eyes closed. It was a few moments before he could speak.

   "It's Lydia...," he began, but he couldn't go on. He didn't have to.

   Mrs. Geisler gasped once and reached for her husband, sobbing against his shoulder. Rachel's arms tightened around Hutch, and though she kept her face pressed against his shirt, he knew she was crying, too.

   "Oh, Ken. That poor little girl," she finally said in a muffled voice. "Oh, God."

Chapter Ten

   Hutch lost track of time while the necessary arrangements were made. Finally, the Geislers left, silent and pale. Huggy took Rachel back to her hotel. Hutch was finally alone, and he made his way to Starsky's room on feet of lead.

   All was quiet. Starsky was no longer hooked up to any equipment. He lay on his back in the hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing deep and naturally, but with no sign of waking up. Hutch pulled a chair closer, took his partner's limp hand, and held it in both of his.

   Oh, God, buddy. Look what I've done to you. I wanted to give you something special. I wanted you and Lydia to start off with a nice trip away from all the hell and bullshit we have to live in every day...and look what I gave you instead. Sleep while you can, babe. At least while you're asleep you don't hate me for this....

   Nurses came in and out during that long night, checked Starsky's pulse, took his blood pressure and temperature. No one asked Hutch to leave. And as those long hours passed and Hutch sat in the hard, unyielding chair holding Starsky's hand, he waited for some flicker of awareness. He had to be the one to tell him. Not Huggy. Not Rachel. Him. He had caused this. And he would take responsibility like a man.

   But he'd rather walk through fire.

   He couldn't get the memory of Lydia's face out of his mind. All night, as he sat there, visions of her played through his brain as if on a movie screen. Lydia and Starsky dancing at Huggy's. At their wedding. Starsky playfully poking ice cubes down the back of Lydia's shirt one afternoon during a picnic at the park, and her squealing and then chasing him all the way into the duck pond and dunking him while Starsky spluttered and splashed and hollered, "Huuuuuuuuuutch!" But Hutch had been helpless with laughter on the bank. Lydia's shy smile when Hutch congratulated her on being pregnant and her quiet, "Thank you, Hutch," just before she'd kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. Her radiance as she joined Starsky under the canopy at the wedding. The look in her eyes as Hutch had sung "Annie's Song."

   He remembered when Starsky had first introduced them, that slow, proud grin as he'd said, "Lydia, this is my partner." Hutch had felt a warm flush of pleasure at the way Starsky introduced him, and then, as he'd met Lydia's eyes, a flash of recognition. He'd known instantly they'd be friends, too. She'd grinned up at him with those saucy hazel eyes of hers, accepted the hand he'd held out and said, "So this is Hutch? Yup, you're everything David said you were. I thought he was lying."

   From that moment on, Lydia had been as natural a part of their lives as if she'd always been there. Hutch never felt constrained in her presence. He'd always been as comfortable with her as he was with Starsky. And she'd taken him straight to her heart. Once, at Huggy's, when Starsky had left the table for one of his innumerable trips to the john, she'd leaned over and said confidentially, "I know why David loves you so much, Hutch."

   And he'd grinned a little, embarrassed, and said, "Why?"

   "You two just go together. If the department had been stupid enough to partner you guys with somebody else, you'd have found your way together in the end anyway. You're two halves of a whole."

   But the image he simply could not erase from his mind was her lying so pale and weak on that pillow, unable even to squeeze his hand, asking him to tell Starsky she loved him, asking him to take care of Starsky for her....

   I killed her. I killed Lydia....

~~~

   "He wake up yet?" Huggy's soft voice asked behind him some hours after sunrise.

   Hutch shook his head without turning around.

   Huggy came closer and put a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "Come on, m'man," he said urgently. "You gotta come back to us."

   "Maybe it's better this way," Hutch said despondently. "This way, he doesn't have to face what's happened."

   Huggy turned to look at him in silence for a moment. "Hey, Hutch, that doesn't sound like you, bro," he said at last. "You almost sound like you don't want him to come to."

   "I almost don't," Hutch said, his eyes on Starsky's peaceful face, not looking at Huggy. "I can't stand thinkin' about how he's going to feel...." He stopped.

   "Hey, Hutch," Huggy said, "come on. Man, you look whipped. You been sittin' here all night? Come on and get a cup o' coffee, huh? We'll get some breakfast into you and you'll feel a hell of a lot better."

   Hutch allowed Huggy to pull him to his feet and get him as far as the hallway.

   But then, Huggy said, "Everything's gonna be all right, Hutch, you'll see."

   Hutch pulled violently away. "All right? All RIGHT? Don't you get it, Huggy? What the fuck's wrong with you?"

   "Ssssh," Huggy cautioned, eyes widening. He tried to get hold of Hutch's arm again, but Hutch jerked it away.

   "Nothing," he hissed, more quietly but no less intensely, "is ever going to be all right again!"

   "Hutch...," Huggy said helplessly, "Man, I know you're hurtin', but Starsk's gonna need you to be strong when he wakes up. And he is going to wake up. Just give him some time--"

   Hutch spun on his heel, raised his fist to punch the wall, thought better of it and finally drove his fist into his open hand. "Huggy, it's my fault!"

   "No, it ain't, man, what the hell are you talkin' about? What's your fault?"

   "Don't you understand?" Hutch demanded. "I killed Lydia! I killed the baby! I bought the tickets, Huggy, I bought the fuckin' tickets!"

   Huggy was stunned into silence. He stared at Hutch for several long moments, finally reaching out to take Hutch's arm--and Hutch allowed him to, this time--and simply let his hand rest there for a few moments, lending his presence and strength.

   Hutch kept his eyes on the floor. He didn't want Huggy to see the tears he couldn't quite hold back. When he thought he could trust his voice, he said, "That isn't all, Hug."

   "What else?" Huggy asked quietly.

   Hutch swallowed, blinked, and looked up. "I've been sitting there for days, and all night last night, just praying he'd wake up. I'm so scared he'll--"

   "You afraid he's gonna die, too?" Huggy asked. "You afraid he ain't gonna wake up?"

   "No," Hutch interrupted. "I'm afraid...he will."

   "What?" Huggy stared at him blankly.

   Hutch sighed and leaned his hand against the wall, dropping his head on his arm wearily. "Huggy, don't you see? Think about how he's gonna feel when he wakes up, when I have to tell him his wife and baby are dead. After all he's been through. After all we've both survived. This time it was supposed to be different. This time he was supposed to win...." Hutch's voice failed and he stopped.

   Huggy tried to put an arm across his shoulders to comfort him, but Hutch pulled away and all but ran down the hallway in the early-morning quiet. He needed to be alone. No, he needed Starsky...but Starsky was sleeping peacefully, not knowing what awaited him when he woke up, not knowing his best friend, his partner, the guy who was supposed to take a bullet for him if necessary...had been responsible for the deaths of his wife and unborn child.

   What if he can't forgive me? What if he hates me for this?

Chapter Eleven

   But even in his dread of Starsky's reaction to the news, Hutch couldn't leave him alone for long. After walking around the hospital grounds for an hour to clear his head and get a grip on his emotions, Hutch returned to Starsky's bedside and resumed his silent vigil.

   He looked over at his sleeping partner and felt something he was almost afraid to admit, even to himself. Safe. He was "first" again, because of an unbearable loss suffered by his beloved best friend. Because of a cruel twist of fate, he was, once again, the most important person in Starsky's life. But at what cost?

   Lydia was gone, and with her, the baby she and Starsky had looked forward to with such anticipation and joy. Starsky's dreams lay shattered around him, and Hutch shared that pain...he felt Starsky's loss pierce his own soul, too...but with that pain, there was also relief, the feeling of having something back he'd thought was lost forever. Completeness.

   Hutch was grateful that Starsky was asleep, because his partner could read him so well he'd have known what Hutch was thinking and feeling.

   There was a tomorrow for them...but not for Lydia. She'd been so willing to share Starsky with Hutch, to allow him to be an integral part of their lives. Hutch admitted to himself that he had been less willing to share with her. But...he'd stepped away, he'd watched the door close on the part of his life where he and Starsky were "me and thee." And now...it was open again. Now there were but two of them again...

   Lydia, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...but your promise is my promise. I'll take care of him. I'll love him. I'll be there for him. I'll honor your memory by loving him. This one last thing I can do, I can promise. He will be loved. Always.

   The long, sleepless night...the days that had gone before...caught up with Hutch at last and he dozed. But something woke him.

   He instinctively turned toward his partner and found a pair of very groggy blue eyes looking back at him. "Starsk, it's me. Do you recognize me?"

   Starsky tried to smile, but it was clearly an effort. He swallowed, wet his lips and finally whispered, "Hutch."

   "You're gonna be okay, buddy," Hutch said quickly. "You're in the hospital, but you're gonna be okay. Doc said so. It's just gonna take a little time, a little work, but I'll help you, and you're gonna be all right."

   Starsky managed a nod. He moved his eyes, slowly and painfully, around the room for a moment. Hutch waited for the question that was sure to come. But it didn't. Instead, Starsky made a supreme effort and managed, "Shot?"

   "No, no, you weren't shot."

   Starsky frowned a little. "Car wreck?"

   He doesn't remember. He doesn't know what happened....

Feeling guilty, but also relieved, Hutch realized that Starsky wasn't going to ask that question. Not yet, anyway. "No, buddy. Plane crash. You're lucky you survived. It was pretty bad."

   "Plane crash?" Starsky blinked at him for a moment, obviously confused. Hutch could almost hear him thinking "What the hell was I doing on a plane?" but he didn't say it. He drew a long breath and just nodded, taking Hutch's word. Hutch picked up his hand again--the hand that he realized, with a sinking heart, still wore the shiny new wedding ring Starsky was sure to notice any minute--and patted it a little awkwardly.

   "Can I get you anything? You want me to get the doctor?"

   Starsky slowly shook his head. "Water, maybe...."

   Hutch picked up the cup next to the bed and bent the straw in it, placing it gently between Starsky's lips. Starsky swallowed several mouthfuls gratefully, then lay his head back again. Hutch replaced the cup on the nightstand.

   "Thanks, Hutch," Starsky said, already almost dozing again. Hutch patted his hand one more time, laid it back on the bed, and went to tell the duty nurse that Starsky had awakened.

   Starsky slept for several more hours, long enough for Hutch to go home, shower and change, and pick up Rachel from the hotel. When they got back to the hospital, the doctor told them Starsky was out of all danger.

   "Now he's just got to get his strength back," the doctor said, "and get back on his feet. I don't think he'll have any problem, but he's going to have some physical therapy to get through." He smiled gently at Hutch. "You look like the type who can make sure he does his exercises."

   "It wouldn't be the first time," Hutch said, managing to smile back.

   "Good. Then you'll know how to handle him. It's going to hurt a lot, and he won't want to do them, but he has to if he wants to get back on his feet. Does he...," the doctor paused and sobered, "does he know about his wife?"

   Hutch shook his head. "No. He wasn't awake very long and I--"

   The doctor nodded. "You want to wait until he's fully conscious. It'll be quite a blow. I'll tell him if you'd like."

   "No!" Hutch realized he'd sounded harsher than he meant to and consciously softened his tone. "I'll tell him. It'll be better that way."

   "Of course." The doctor patted Rachel's arm and walked away.

   "Oh, Ken," Rachel said, leaning on him as he led her back to a seat. "This is going to hurt Davy so much. I wish...."

   "I know, Rachel. Me, too."

Chapter Twelve

   But as the days stretched into a week, and Starsky got well enough to stay awake all day, but still had not asked about Lydia, Hutch began to get alarmed. He didn't share his fears with Rachel or even with Huggy, but he knew Starsky should have remembered her by now. Unless something was very wrong....

   Starsky was still so weak he had to be helped with eating and, much to his disgust, had to use a bedpan. His spirits, however, seemed to be bouncing back.

   "Now, Ma," Starsky was saying, hoarsely but with decision, as Hutch entered his hospital room, "I'm gonna be just fine. Hutch'll crack the whip on the therapy thing and Huggy'll make sure I eat enough. You can go on back home. I know you got a life o' your own to lead."

   Rachel's hands were on her hips and she looked exactly like Starsky always did when he was having a stubborn fit. "Look here, young man, I am still your mother. And I won't go off 3,000 miles away and leave you until I'm sure--"

   "Hutch, would ya tell her--"

   "David Michael--"

   "Whoa!" Hutch interrupted with a forced laugh. "They're going to take him down for X-rays in a few minutes. The doctor just told me. Can we put this argument off until later?"

   "Of course," Rachel said. She leaned over and kissed her son's forehead, smoothed his curls, and smiled. Then she took Hutch's arm and they left the room. Lydia's funeral would begin in a couple of hours. They'd already put it off far longer than Jewish custom demanded, hoping Starsky would get well enough to attend, but he wasn't going to; and Lydia's parents, knowing Starsky did not remember and not wanting to upset his slow healing with the news, had finally decided to go ahead and have the funeral.

   Hutch had struggled with the decision not to tell Starsky. He'd even discussed it with the psychiatrist at headquarters, who had shaken his head a little sadly at the story.

   "He took quite a blow to the head, I understand," Jenkins had said when Hutch finished. Hutch nodded. "An experience like a plane crash, coupled with unconsciousness and a blow to the head, could impair his memory of events immediately before and after the crash," Jenkins went on. "He won't even know he doesn't remember things. It could just be gone. Telling him might not be wise. But not telling him...," he'd paused and considered Hutch thoughtfully for a moment. "You know him better than I do. What would his reaction be if you did tell him?"

   "Crushing grief," Hutch said.

   Jenkins pursed his lips. "I can't tell you what to do, Hutch," he said. "I think it's a decision for the family to make together. I will tell you one thing, though. This is such a traumatic loss, it's possible he's just blocking it."

   "Blocking it?"

   "His subconscious is keeping him from remembering to protect his emotional state," Jenkins said. "He knows, but he's denying it. It's too painful to face."

   In the end, Hutch had told Rachel his opinion was that they should let Starsky be the one to lead the way. She had agreed, in spite of her misgivings, because she knew Hutch had seen her son through so many losses before.

   The funeral was the saddest Hutch could ever remember attending. Even worse than Terry's, and he'd thought nothing could be worse than that. Lydia's mother tucked a little pink teddy bear into the casket with her daughter, smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek before bursting into such heartbroken sobs that she'd collapsed. Rachel clung to Hutch like a lifeline, and when it was their turn to walk past the casket and say goodbye, Rachel kissed the tips of her fingers and touched Lydia's lips. Hutch, barely able to see for the tears in his own eyes, laid a hand over the cold, folded hands in the casket and whispered, "David would be here if he could, sweetheart." He hoped Lydia understood, wherever she was.

   Afterward, he left Rachel at her hotel to rest, and drove slowly back to the hospital in the rays of the setting sun. He walked into Starsky's room, thinking Starsky was asleep, and sat down in the chair quietly. But Starsky turned his head, his face more pale than usual. "She's dead, isn't she?"

   For a moment, Hutch stopped breathing. He met his partner's eyes fearfully and couldn't speak.

   Starsky lifted his left hand--the movement was still an effort, but he was getting a little stronger--and gazed at the ring there. "I was layin' here a little while ago, thinkin' I'd forgotten something. Like I left the coffee pot on or forgot to lock my car. And I happened to look down and I saw this." His eyes stayed dry, but the look in them broke Hutch's heart. "When did she die?"

   "Six days ago," Hutch said past the lump in his throat. "She asked me to tell you she loved you."

   Starsky's eyes closed and Hutch saw his throat move as he swallowed. "I missed the funeral?"

   "Yes."

   Starsky's eyes stayed closed, and a single tear slid out from between the long dark lashes to roll into the pillow.

   "Aw, babe," Hutch put a hand on Starsky's hair and gently stroked. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was with her, buddy, and her very last words were her message to you. I--" his voice broke and he had to stop for a moment. Starsky didn't open his eyes. Hutch drew a long breath and went on, "Starsk, you know I love you. I didn't tell you about Lydia before because I was afraid to. You were hurt pretty bad...but, buddy, I want to help you. I want to be there for you."

   Starsky's left hand gripped a handful of sheet, but there was no other reaction.

   Hutch reached down and took that hand in his. "Did I ever tell you how much I admire you, partner? How strong you are, how brave? I know I give you a hard time, but it's because I love you so much and I have a hard time showing it. But let me tell you now. No matter what this fucked-up world throws at you, you always stand tall. You never let it break you. And you've always been a pillar of strength for me. Always there when I needed you. Every single time. Aw, Starsk...." Hutch's voice failed again for a moment, but he forced the last words out, "Starsk, you're my hero. I want you to know that. You're a hero to me."

   The hand Hutch held tightened on his and he saw another tear slip free and fall and Starsky's Adam's apple bobbed, but he made no sound. It was several moments before Starsky spoke, but when he did, he lifted his eyes to Hutch and said, brokenly, "Thanks, Hutch. From both of us."

PART FOUR