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Three Shots

by Cheryl T

Starsky tapped his fingers nervously on the table as he listened to the ringing of the phone.  Come on, Hutch, answer the phone.  Pick it up, buddy.  It had been a very long and very hot day--full of regrets, as both men's tempers had flared nearly as high as the temperature.  By the end of the day when Starsky had dropped Hutch off at his place, they were barely civil to each other.  But now, after a cold shower and an even colder beer, Starsky was feeling guilty over his part in the day's events.  Pizza and beer should make a good peace offering. 

"Hello." 

"Hey, Hutch." 

"Hold on, Starsk, someone's at the door."  Starsky heard the clunk of the phone hitting the table as Hutch laid it down. 

Before Starsky had a chance to even wonder who was at Hutch's door, he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire.  Three shots...then the sound of a body falling to the floor.  Then nothing but a frightening silence.

"Hutch?" Starsky screamed into the phone.  "Hutch!" 

Dropping the phone, Starsky fought down the rising panic trying to consume him.  His mind refused to focus on what he knew he would surely find when he arrived at Hutch's.  Maybe it wasn't the sound of Hutch's body falling.  Hell, maybe it wasn't even gunshots he had heard.  The TV...it was the TV.  Hutch didn't answer because he was still talking to whoever was at the door.  As much as he wanted to, Starsky couldn't buy any of his own lame explanations.  Grabbing his gun and car keys, he bolted out to his car.  Slapping the mars light on the roof of the Torino, he then barked orders into the radio, demanding back-up and an ambulance be sent to Hutch's address.

Breaking all speed limits and running every red light, Starsky made it to Hutch's in half the normal time, arriving before the requested back-up and ambulance.  Taking the stairs two and three at a time, he stumbled once in his frantic haste to get to Hutch.  The scene at the top of the stairs brought him to an abrupt halt.  "No."

The door to Hutch's apartment was open, and just inside the door Starsky could see Hutch in a crumpled, bleeding heap.  "Oh, God, Hutch."

Starsky wanted only to rush to his partner's side, but the cop in him knew he had to take a look around and make sure the shooter was gone.  His gut feeling was that the shooter had never even entered the apartment.  From the looks of things, Hutch had opened the door and been shot down.  With his gun drawn, Starsky slowly entered the apartment.  Stopping just inside the door where Hutch lay, he knelt down, praying that he would find a pulse.  With his eyes darting around the room, his hand searched for a pulse.  The relief at finding a steady beat brought tears to Starsky's eyes.  He patted Hutch's arm, "I'm here, Hutch, hang on." 

Getting to his feet, Starsky made a quick check of the rest of the apartment, then, grabbing up some towels, he hurried back to his wounded partner.  Taking a close look at his friend for the first time since arriving at the scene, Starsky shuddered at the sight of the blood running down Hutch's face from an obvious bullet wound to the head.  Wiping at the blood in an attempt to see how serious the wound was, Starsky was relieved to see it didn't look too bad.  His fumbling fingers moved down to the blood-soaked shirt.  once the buttons were undone, he swabbed gently at the bleeding shoulder, discovering two bullet wounds.  Three shots.  I'll never forget that sound.  Placing a towel over the wounds, he applied pressure, knowing he needed to slow the bleeding.  The blond groaned in pain.  It was Hutch who had been shot, but Starsky could feel the pain just the same as if he had been him. 

"Sorry, buddy.  Just trying to get the bleeding stopped."  The sound of sirens announcing the arrival of the ambulance brought Starsky only a small measure of comfort.  "Hey, Hutch, the ambulance is here.  Everything is going to be okay now."  Starsky fought to keep his voice from shaking.  He could still hear the sound of those three shots.  They seemed to keep echoing in his head.  And now all this blood.  Hutch shot three times.  None of this made any sense.  I'll find who did this.  They'll pay; I promise you that, Hutch.  They'll pay.

Starsky felt Hutch's limp fingers close loosely around his hand and, looking down, found himself staring into Hutch's confused and pain-filled eyes.  Before Starsky could say anything, the eyes had slowly closed again.  Starsky reluctantly allowed the weak hand to slip from his, as the paramedics motioned for him to get out of the way.  Part of him wanted to stay right where he was, but common sense prevailed and he forced himself to move away.  He stood for a few minutes, watching as they worked on his partner.  He knew he had to talk with the uniformed officers who had arrived.  He hated to leave Hutch even for a second.  But Hutch was in good hands now, and as soon as he talked to the uniforms and told them what he knew, he could get back to Hutch and stay with him until he knew he was going to be okay.  He hoped when Hutch regained consciousness he would be able to tell him who it was that had shot him.

"Detective?" 

Starsky nodded at the slightly graying officer.  "Detective Starsky.  The victim is my partner, Detective Hutchinson."

"I'm Sergeant Collins.  I'm sorry about your partner.  Any idea what happened here?"

"I was on the phone with him.  He said someone was at the door, he put the phone down."  Starsky's voice broke remembering.  "Then I heard three gunshots.  That's all I have so far."

"Hold on just a second."  Starsky, seeing that they were ready to take Hutch out, wanted to let his partner know that he wouldn't be alone long.  "Hey, partner, you're in good hands now.  You're gonna be okay.  And I promise I'll get to the hospital as soon as I'm done here."  Starsky would have given anything to see Hutch open his eyes.  You do know I'm here, don't you, buddy?  Needing at least a little physical contact with his partner--a reminder that Hutch was alive--Starsky reached out and squeezed the limp hand that hung out from under the blanket that had been tucked around him.  "I won't be long, buddy."

Once Hutch was out of sight, Starsky rejoined Sergeant Collins.  "Detective, we have some uniforms out canvassing the street for several blocks.  Maybe someone noticed something." 

"What about the neighbor across the hall? " Starsky asked, remembering the nice elderly gentlemen that lived across from Hutch. 

"He doesn't seem to be home right now."  The sergeant shook his head.  "this looks like it's going to be a tough one.  Not much to go on here.  Unless maybe you can think of someone who wanted your partner dead."

"That would be one very long list, Sergeant."

"Well, we'll keep you posted, Detective.  I'll be pulling for your partner."

"Thanks."  Starsky, realizing that he hadn't notified Dobey of what had happened, went off to give him a call.  The receiver was still off the hook just where Hutch had laid it when he went to answer the door.  Who was on the other side of that door?  I sure hope you can tell me when you wake up.

The captain was not happy to have his dinner interrupted, but when he heard what Starsky had to tell him, he immediately forgot all about eating.  "I'll meet you at the hospital."  Starsky didn't have time to reply before he heard Dobey hang up the phone.

Taking one last look around Hutch's apartment, Starsky left the uniformed officers to secure the scene.  As soon as he knew Hutch would be okay, he'd start checking around himself.  You picked a great place to move to, buddy.  And to think I talked you into moving from your cottage because of the unhappy memories.

Starsky left for the hospital, his thoughts on the events of the day.  This whole day has been one major pain in the ass.  I can't believe the way we acted today.  You'd think we'd get tired of the same old crap we dish out to each other.  You like to grumble about my eating habits, and I like to bitch about that thing you call a car.  But we couldn't just stop with our usual playful jabs.  Today, of all days, we had to get into personal stuff.  I know we both said things we didn't mean.  I never should've brought up Vanessa the way I did.  I know how much she hurt you.  And I also know hard you tried to make things work with her.  It was that damn crack you made about ending our partnership.  And I really can't blame you for the remarks about Nicky.  I'll admit they did hurt, but I know you didn't mean them.  Just like I didn't really mean what I said about Vanessa and your marriage.  We were just both overtired and the never-ending heat was getting to us.

As Hutch was loaded into the ambulance, he opened his eyes briefly, looking around as if searching for someone.  Not seeing the face he was looking for, the eyes closed and he let himself slide back into unconsciousness. 

Starsky nearly collided with Dobey as he stormed through the doors of the ER.  "Starsky, take it easy."  As he said the words, Dobey knew full well that taking it easy was not something Starsky would be doing until Hutch was on his feet and out of this hospital.  Dobey knew the routine all too well.

"Sorry," Starsky mumbled, his thoughts centered on getting some information on his partner's condition. 

"Starsky, go sit down and I'll see what I can find out."  Dobey patted Starsky's shoulder and gave him a gentle shove toward an empty chair.

Starsky tried sitting in the chair Dobey had pointed him toward, but he couldn't sit still.  Dobey watched from the nurses' station, as Starsky paced back and forth. 

"Starsky, please, sit down.  You're going to wear out the carpet." 

"Well, what did you find out?"  Starsky stopped his pacing waiting for Dobey to fill him in on what he had learned.

"Sit."  Dobey 's tone was one that Starsky knew and he quickly sat down.

"Okay, I'm sitting.  Now tell me, how's Hutch?" 

"They've taken him into surgery to remove the bullets in his shoulder.  They don't expect any complications, and he should be out of surgery in two or three hours."

"What about the head wound?"  As anxious as he was for good news, Starsky wanted to make sure he had all the facts where Hutch's condition was concerned.

"Not serious.  But he'll no doubt have one heck of a headache.  So maybe now you can try and relax?  Things are looking good for your partner."

"You know me, I won't relax until I see him and really know he's going to be okay.  Not to mention I won't completely relax until whoever did this is caught."  Thinking about the shooter still being on the loose, Starsky was once again on his feet.  "We've got to get this guy.  I mean what if he finds out that Hutch isn't dead?  He might try again."

"We'll get him, Starsky.  I'll put every available officer on this." 

"You're damn right, we'll get him."  Starsky slammed his fist against the cold hospital wall, ignoring the smarting pain that resulted from that action.  "None of this makes any sense."  Glancing at his watch, Starsky asked, "what time did they take Hutch into surgery?"

"It's only been about twenty minutes, Dave.  Come on, sit down and try to relax.  Hutch is going to be just fine and I promise you, we'll get the person who shot him." 

"I know we'll get the guy.  But I don't think I can relax just yet.  How about I go get us some coffee?"  Starsky knew he couldn't sit still right now.  At least a walk down the corridor to the coffee machine would give him something to do.

"Coffee sounds good."  Even Dobey was glad to have at least a small distraction.

After Starsky returned with the coffee, both men sat quietly, occasionally sipping at the strong, hot liquid.  The time seemed to drag on endlessly--the slow ticking of the clock almost mocking.  The events of the day played through Starsky's mind over and over.  He honestly didn't know how much more of this endless waiting he could take.

Dobey could see that Starsky--never one who easily handled waiting--was nearing his limit.  "Starsky, I don't know about you, but I'm kind of hungry.  I didn't get to eat much of my dinner.  I'll let the nurses know we'll be in the cafeteria and that they should page us if there is any word at all on Hutch."

Starsky's first thought was to refuse, but then he thought better of it.  A change of scenery couldn't hurt and, the truth was, he was hungry himself.  Maybe it would help the time go by faster.

"Sure, that sounds good, Cap'n." 

Starsky had to admit that he did feel at least a little better after getting some much-needed food in his stomach.  He watched as Dobey wiped his mouth and shoved back his plate, after finishing off his second piece of apple pie.  And Hutch thinks I can put away the food?  Starsky held back a chuckle, thinking of Hutch's reaction to the amount of food Dobey has just consumed.

"Well, how about one more cup of coffee and then we head back to the waiting room?  It shouldn't be much longer now." 

"Sure, I'll even get the coffee."  Knowing that it would soon be over and he could finally see Hutch, Starsky allowed himself to relax a little more.  As Starsky reached for the cups, a page came over the intercom.  "Captain Harold Dobey please report to the third floor nurses' station."  Starsky seemed to freeze for one brief second and then--heart pounding--he nodded at Dobey and headed for the third floor.

Starsky stood stiffly listening as the nurse paged a doctor.  What if something went wrong?  I mean it's not like it couldn't happen.  He was shot three times.  All that blood…anything could go wrong.

"I'm Dr. Miller." 

Starsky studied the face of the doctor intently.  Was it going to be good news?  Please, God.

Dobey shook the doctor's hand and gestured toward Starsky, "Captain Dobey.  and this is Detective Hutchinson's partner, Detective Starsky."

Starsky extended his hand and cleared his throat.  "How is he?"

"He came through the surgery just fine, and they're taking him to recovery now.  He'll be in recovery for an hour or two and then he'll be taken to a room.  Things look good.  No permanent damage was done.  He'll have one hell of a headache for a while.  He might be a little on the groggy side and his vision could be a little blurry.  All of that is only temporary, though.  The shoulder should heal nicely but he'll probably need some physical therapy."

Unable to hold back any longer, Starsky interrupted the doctor.  "When can I see him?"

"Like I said, he'll be in recovery for a couple of hours.  Once he's in a room you'll be able to see him."

Before Starsky had a chance to let the doctor know his thoughts on waiting two hours to see his partner, Dobey silenced him with a look.

"Dr. Miller, is there any way you could let Detective Starsky just look in on his partner for maybe five minutes?  They've been partners a while now and, well, it's kind of important."

"All right.  But only five minutes.  He's going to be out of it for a while, so he won't even know you're there."

Only Dobey heard the whispered words, "he'll know I'm there," as Starsky followed the doctor down the corridor.

Standing beside Hutch's bed, the slight rise and fall of his chest confirmed to Starsky that Hutch was truly alive.  Despite his best efforts to hold back tears of relief, Starsky felt one, then another, hot tear trickle down his face.  "Some tough cop I am, huh?"  Starsky brushed roughly at the tears.  "You scared the hell out of me, buddy.  But you're gonna be okay, just like I told you.  You know I wouldn't lie to you.  I can only stay a few minutes, but I'll be back later and I promise you no one is gonna make me leave until we're both good and ready." 

Reaching down, Starsky tenderly stroked his hand along Hutch's cheek.  "You should see yourself, partner--layin' here all bandaged up.  You're quite a sight."  Starsky brushed at another tear, as he took in the gauze bandage that adorned Hutch's forehead.  Starsky gently brushed the fine wisps of blond hair off his friend's forehead.  His eyes then traveled down to the wounded shoulder.  The whole shoulder appeared to be wrapped in bandages with the hospital gown just draped over him.  "Yeah, you're a sight, all right.  I better get going now, Hutch.  Something tells me you might want some underwear and a pair of pajama bottoms, so I'll swing by your place and pick up a few things for you."  Starsky pulled the blanket carefully up over Hutch and, with one last look, left the room.

Starsky found Dobey waiting down the corridor.  "Feel better now, Starsky?"

"I'm getting there, Cap'n.  All I need now is to see Hutch open his eyes and, of course, catch the bastard who shot him." 

"You'll get both of those things.  Hutch will be opening his eyes in a matter of hours, and knowing you, it won't be long before the person responsible for him being here will be behind bars."

"Any word yet on whether they picked up any leads on who we might be looking for?"  Starsky glanced at his watch surprised at how late it had gotten.  "It's late; why don't you go home and see your wife?"

"Nothing yet.  But I think I will go home and see Edith and check in on the kids.  It wouldn't hurt you to go home either and get a little rest before seeing Hutch."

"I'll give it some thought.  I'm gonna go by Hutch's and pick up a few things for him."

"I hope you take my advice and get some rest."  Dobey patted the detective's shoulder.  "And you call me if anything changes."

"Count on it."  Starsky stood, watching as Dobey made his way toward the elevator.

After stopping at the nurses' station to ask that he be notified should there be any change in Hutch's condition, Starsky, too, left the hospital.  His first stop was the station.  He hoped he'd find there had been some sort of development in Hutch's case.  But sadly there were no leads.  They had no witnesses, and if they made a list of suspects who might want to hurt Hutch, the list would be never-ending.  At least the stop at the station had confirmed that Dobey had every available man on the case and then some.  Not that Starsky ever doubted that Dobey was as anxious as he was to see the individual responsible for Hutch's shooting apprehended.

Starsky thought briefly about stopping by Huggy's, but decided that a phone call would do.  Remembering the last trip he had made to Hutch's apartment, Starsky felt a slight chill run through him as he now made his way up the stairs to Hutch's place.  He had to remind himself that Hutch, though wounded, was alive and safely tucked into bed back at the hospital.

Once inside, Starsky tried not to look at the blood-stained spot on the floor where he had found his partner.  Walking around it, he went into the bedroom, grabbing one of Hutch's gym bags out of the closet.  Finding underwear and pajamas, he tossed them into the bag.  Next, into the bathroom where he grabbed Hutch's toothbrush and comb.  Then, on second thought, he went back into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of pants, shirt, and socks, so Hutch would have a change of clothes on hand when he was released.  Just as he was zipping the bag, he was startled by the sound of someone knocking on the door. 

Starsky's mind replayed the sounds of Hutch laying the phone down as he went to answer the door.  That kind of quiet clatter as the receiver hit the table.  And the horrific deafening sound of gunshots.  He couldn't even imagine what Hutch must have...  Just pull yourself together and answer the door.  Shit, Hutch probably didn't have time to think or react in any way. 

Not taking any chances, Starsky opened the door--gun in hand--and found himself face-to-face with Mr. Reynolds, the elderly gentleman who lived across from Hutch.  The shocked look on the man's face caused Starsky to hastily re-holster his gun.  "Sorry, Mr. Reynolds.  I'm just a bit on the jumpy side, I guess."

"That makes two of us then.  I couldn't believe it when the officers told me that Ken had been shot here in his own apartment.  I was just shocked."  The older man shook his head sadly.  "Just a damn shame.  How's he doing?"

"He'd just come out of surgery and was in recovery when I left.  Looks like we got lucky again; he's going to be all right."  Starsky tried to keep his emotions in check, but his voice sounded strained and on edge even to himself.

"That's good news, Dave.  I really like Ken.  He's a real nice young man.  He's the complete opposite of that awful man that lived here before him.  That guy was a real nuisance.  He was always in trouble with the law.  And the characters he hung around with were hoodlums, the whole lot of them.  There was always someone banging on his door all hours of the day and night." 

Starsky felt a knot forming in his stomach.  Could it be?  Could Hutch have been shot by mistake?  Listening to the old man talk about the troublemaker that had lived in Hutch's apartment previously had Starsky thinking.  Hutch had only lived here at Venice Place for just over a month.  At least a case of mistaken identity gives us some place to start.

"Mr. Reynolds, do you remember the name of the former tenant?"

"Not likely to forget it.  Kyle Hanson.  And believe me, I wasn't a bit sorry to see him move out." 

"You've been a big help."  Starsky's gut told him he was on the right track with the mistaken identity thing.

"I'm glad if I was some help to you, Dave.  I was no help at all to the officers that stopped by earlier.  I was gone all day, so I didn't see or hear anything that could help them.  You think Ken's getting shot had something to do with that fellow that used to live here?" 

"My gut says yes, and I'm going to see that it's checked into right away."

After Mr. Reynolds had left, Starsky made a couple of phone calls--one to the station and then one to Huggy.  A shocked and saddened Huggy had promised to do some checking on one, Mr. Kyle Hanson.  And the officers back at the station had been thrilled to get any kind of lead.  Any time a cop was shot, it became top priority, but it also became somewhat personal.  And they had all been feeling like they were just spinning their wheels.  Now, just maybe, they might get moving.

Phone calls out of the way and a bag packed for Hutch, Starsky was eager to get back to the hospital.  It was now past midnight--over six hours since they had ended their shift. 

Arriving at the hospital, a little sweet-talking and a couple of dazzling smiles and the nurse on duty was soon showing him to Hutch's room.  Explaining about them being cops and how his poor partner had been shot didn't hurt either.  And then, of course, the clincher of how Hutch was not only his partner but also his best friend.  Starsky couldn't help but grin at the way he had managed once again to get around hospital rules.  Someday they'll learn nothing or no one can keep us apart.  Especially when one of us is hurt and in pain.

In the dim light that softly lit the room, Starsky could barely decipher the outline of Hutch under the white blankets.  Starsky stood back as the nurse did the routine check of vital signs.  "Now you make sure you don't disturb him.  He really needs his rest.  I'll be in shortly to check his temperature again.  It's a little higher than we'd like it to be."  The pretty brunette nurse pulled the blanket up around her blond patient and, with a final warning look at Starsky, left the room.

Starsky pulled a chair closer to Hutch's bed and sat down to keep his vigil.  Here we are again, partner.  Sliding his jacket off, Starsky made an attempt to get comfortable.  Once settled as comfortable as he was going to get, Starsky reached for the hand that lay on top of the blankets.  The warmth of Hutch's hand brought some comfort to Starsky.  It wasn't long before the events of the day caught up with the exhausted detective, and his eyes closed as he drifted into some much needed sleep.

Daylight was just breaking when Starsky was awakened by several soft moans.  He was instantly awake and out of his chair.  Hutch was moving restlessly, his face twisted in pain.  Starsky sat down on the edge of the bed and began to talk soothingly.  "I'm right here, buddy.  You're gonna be okay."  He kept repeating the words softly, over and over, as he lightly stroked the feverish forehead.  Damn, he feels warm.  This isn't good.

The sound of Starsky's voice and his soothing touch seemed to relax Hutch, and the restless movements quieted.  But it was clear to Starsky that his friend was in pain and his temperature was too high.  Reaching out, he used the call button to summon a nurse.

By the time the nurse hurried through the door, Hutch's eyes were open and struggling to focus.  "Hurts."  Hutch groaned in pain.  "Starsk?" 

"Right, here," Starsky assured his partner.  "I'm right here.  The nurse is here now, and she'll give you something for the pain."

"He's running a fever and he's in a lot a pain."  Starsky's tone was harsh with worry.  "Where's the doctor?"

Taking in the situation, the nurse quickly checked Hutch's vital signs.  I'll get the doctor."

"Starsky?" Hutch mumbled as he struggled to sit up.  The burning pain in his shoulder caused the blond to gasp in pain, and he fell back against the pillow.

"Easy, buddy.  You've got to keep still and try to rest.  The nurse went to get the doctor, and they'll have you feeling lots better in no time."  Starsky adjusted the pillow behind Hutch, attempting to make him as comfortable as possible.  "Now stay still while I go wet a towel with some cool water." 

Returning with the cool cloth, Starsky tenderly wiped Hutch's face and neck.  "How's that feel?"  Hutch weakly nodded his appreciation.  Starsky made several trips to the bathroom to rewet the cloth.  He knew he'd continue the ministration as long as it made Hutch feel better.

"Good morning.  I understand our patient isn't feeling too well this morning."  The doctor carefully looked over Hutch's chart, making a few notations of his own, while talking softly under his breath to himself.  Starsky was able to catch a word here and there...rapid pulse...high respiratory rate.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?"  Starsky didn't feel much like patiently waiting while the doctor carried on a conversation with himself.

The doctor was now removing the bandage from Hutch's shoulder.  Starsky moved to the other side of the bed, wanting to be near Hutch, but at the same time, he didn't want to be in the way.  Hutch groaned loudly, protesting the pain that was being inflicted upon him as the doctor examined the wounds.  Hutch's groans brought Starsky back to his partner's side.

"There is always the risk of infection in cases like this, and that's exactly what we have here.  We'll get him started on some antibiotics, and we'll work on getting his fever down."

Hating to see his partner in such pain, Starsky wished the doctor would hurry up with his examination and give Hutch something for the pain.  He looks awful.  His face is flushed, and when he opens his eyes, it's like he doesn't see anything around him. 

"And then he'll be okay, right?"

"He'll be fine.  This is just a little setback."  The doctor had finished his examination and started out the door.  "Oh, just one thing, detective Starsky.  I want you to get out of here for a few hours.  Go have something to eat and grab a few hours' sleep.  That's an order."

As Starsky opened his mouth to voice his objections, he felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder.  "You heard him, Starsky, that's an order.  Now get out of here." 

"But, Cap'n--"

"Starsky, I've heard it all before.  And I understand how you feel.  But the order stands--get out of here.  Get some sleep and then you can come back."

Starsky turned to face his captain.  Then looked back at the doctor.  Realizing he wasn't going to win this one, Starsky threw up his hands.  "Okay, I give.  I can see I'm out numbered.  Could I at least have a few minutes with him before you both chase me out of here?"

The doctor grinned and nodded at Dobey.  "What do you think?  five minutes before I have the nurses chase him out?"

"Oh, maybe we could give him ten."  Dobey grinned at Starsky.

"Ten minutes it is."  The doctor finished giving instructions to the nurse and then left the room, with Dobey and the nurse following behind. 

Starsky once again wet the towel he had been using and began to wipe Hutch's fevered face and neck.  Hutch's eyes opened and he attempted a weak smile. 

"Hey, buddy, I'm being thrown out of here in just a few minutes.  I know I promised you that I'd stay, but Dobey and the doctor are kind of ganging up on me."  Starsky wished the nurse would hurry back with the medication for Hutch.  "But I'll be back before you know it."

"It's okay."  Hutch's voice was low and strained, but to Starsky it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.  "I'm not going to be good company right now.  You know how I get when I'm tired and in pain." 

"Yeah, you're a real pain in the ass, but I'm used to it."  Starsky laughed and gently ruffled the sweat-dampened blond hair.  "The nurse will be back in a few minutes, and she's gonna get you started on some strong medicine that's gonna have you feeling better in no time."

"I hope so."  Hutch's feeble attempt at a smile became a grimace of pain and he closed his eyes.  "Starsk, go home." 

"Okay, but I'll be back in a couple of hours." 

As Starsky got to his feet to leave, a tremulous hand reached out for him.  Taking hold of the warm hand, Starsky squeezed it gently.  "You behave yourself while I'm gone.  When I get back, if you're feeling better, I need to ask you a couple of questions.  Okay?"

Hutch gave a weak nod as Starsky reluctantly released his hand.  Just then, the nurse made her entrance and motioned Starsky toward the door.  "The doctor said to tell you your time is up." 

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm going."  Starsky stood in the doorway for a few minutes, watching as the nurse worked at getting an IV into Hutch.  I better get out of here before Dobey and the doctor show up.  Quit worrying; he's in good hands.  I can't quit worrying, and I don't think it's a damn bit fair that I'm being made to leave my sick and injured partner alone with strangers.  Turning and walking out the door of Hutch's room was one of the hardest things Starsky had ever had to do.

After a brief visit to the station, Starsky's spirits had lifted when he heard they had located the residence of the former tenant of Hutch's apartment.  But even better news was that a witness had been found who remembered seeing a short stocky man with dark hair rushing out of Hutch's building right around the time of the shooting.  As soon as Hutch is feeling better, I'll be out there right along with the rest of them, looking for the creep responsible for Hutch being in the hospital.

Back at his apartment, Starsky downed two bowls of cereal and a large glass of juice, while debating to sleep or shower next--sleep won.  The inviting sight of his bed pushed any thoughts of an immediate shower out of his mind.  He was almost asleep before he had his shoes removed. 

Several hours later, Starsky was jolted out of his sleep, his heart pounding wildly.  The sound of three gunshots and then the thud of a body falling echoing loudly in his mind.  Bad dream, just a bad dream.  Running his trembling hands through his tangled curls, Starsky tried to pull himself together.  It was just a bad dream.  But it hadn't been a dream for Hutch.  I can't even imagine opening the door and facing what he did. 

Getting to his feet, Starsky's only thought was getting back to his partner.  What if my gut is telling me wrong and someone really is after Hutch?  I can't leave him alone.

As enjoyable and relaxing as Starsky found the hot shower, he didn't allow himself the luxury of lingering too long.  There would be time for indulging in long, hot showers when he was sure Hutch was safe.  Barely taking the time to dry off, Starsky quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped a shirt over his still wet hair.  Five minutes later he was out the door.

Pulling into a parking space at the hospital, Starsky vowed firmly to himself that he would not allow anyone to make him leave Hutch until they were both darn good and ready.  I mean it this time; I'm not leaving Hutch again.  If anyone wants me outta here, they'll have to bodily remove me.  And just let them try.

The coast was clear as Starsky made his way toward Hutch's room.  Glancing at his watch, he estimated he'd been gone for about four-and-a-half hours.  I seem to recall being told to get out of here for a few hours.  I think I did just that.

Not wanting to disturb his partner's sleep, Starsky entered the room quietly and managed to move the chair closer to the bed with little noise.  Taking a good look at the blond, it was obvious he seemed to be resting a bit more peacefully.  Resting his hand lightly on Hutch's face, he was relieved to find it no longer felt quite as warm. 

Starsky sat quietly for several hours, content to just watch his friend sleep, knowing that the healing process had started, and Hutch was going to be okay.  He watched as nurses came and went, checking vital signs and adjusting the IV. 

Needing to stretch and move around after sitting for so long, Starsky soundlessly paced the sterile white room.  Stopping every few minutes to gaze at the sight of his sleeping partner.  Almost as if afraid Hutch was going to somehow disappear into thin air if he didn't keep him in sight.

Starsky's pacing came to an abrupt halt, as he realized a pair of blue eyes was following his every move.

"Hutch?"

Seeing the amusement in the watchful blue eyes, Starsky laughed.  "Yeah, I guess it is you.  Silly question, huh?"

Starsky resumed his seat next to the bed.  "How you doing?  You look a little better."

Hutch nodded his head weakly.  "I'm so tired and it hurts like hell.  Is that an improvement?"  His feeble attempt at a grin failed miserably. 

"You're complaining; that means you're almost your old self again," Starsky joked.  "Hey, I know you want to sleep and I want you to, but can you can tell me anything about what happened?  Anything at all?"

Hutch's expression was suddenly tight with strain.  He looked confused and frightened--almost childlike.  "Starsk, I couldn't do anything.  I just opened the door..."

"I know, buddy.  I know you couldn't do anything.  But did you get a look at him?  Was it someone you knew?"  Starsky had to know if his gut feeling--that it all had been a case of mistaken identity--had any merit to it at all.  Just the fact that Hutch was shot is bad enough, but to think it might have been a mistake.  That he hadn't been the intended victim.  That it all might have been just a case of mistaken identity, made it even more disturbing.

Hutch squeezed his eyes tightly shut.  Starsky wasn't sure if he was trying to block out the horror of what he'd seen, or if he was attempting to see it again in his mind to better answer Starsky's question.  "Hutch?"

"I'm sorry."  The words came out in a choked sob, as Hutch made an unsuccessful attempt to sit up.   

"Hey, take it easy.  I don't think you're ready to be moving around.  And what do you have to be sorry about?"  Starsky settled Hutch back against the pillow, taking care not to disturb the injured shoulder that was now securely cradled in a sling.

"Starsk, all I could think about when...I saw the gun pointed at me was that I didn't get a chance to tell you how sorry I was.  I didn't want to die without you knowing that I didn't mean any of the rotten things I'd said yesterday." 

Starsky, hearing the tremor in the soft voice, could relate to the torment Hutch was feeling.  "Hutch, it's okay, I know you didn't mean those things.  Just like I didn't mean the things I said, either.  I felt the same way, babe.  Hearing those gunshots...thinking you were dead.  Damn, Hutch, I've never in my life felt so helpless.  The cheap remarks, I made have been playing over and over in my mind since we ended our shift yesterday.  I was way outta line with my comments about your marriage.  That's why I called you.  I wanted to make things right between us.  Thought we could share a pizza and a couple'a beers."

Starsky watched as Hutch struggled with his feelings of guilt and fear.  "It's okay, Hutch.  We both said things we didn't mean.  But the important thing is you're alive.  We're gonna be okay."  Starsky's tone was low and soothing. 

"We're okay.  We're going to be okay," Hutch echoed Starsky's words as relief filled him.   

"Yeah, we're okay, partner."  Starsky maneuvered himself so he was sitting on the bed next to Hutch, putting his arm carefully around Hutch's shoulder while avoiding the IV.  "You know it would take more than hot temperatures and being overworked to ruin our partnership or our friendship.  And it would take more than my brother or your ex-wife, too." 

"You're right.  But I still didn't want to die without telling you I was sorry.  And I am sorry.  I shouldn't have said those things about Nick.  And you know I wouldn't want anyone else for a partner."

"Good, because you're stuck with me.  And don't give a second thought to what you said about Nick.  Believe me, I know he can be a major pain in the ass."  Starsky was quiet for a second, remembering his hurtful comments about Hutch's ex-wife.  "I didn't mean what I said about Vanessa, either."

Despite the pain he was in, Hutch couldn't hold back a smile as he said, "oh, that's okay.  she was a major pain in the ass sometimes, too."  Soon, they were both laughing. 

"Damn, it hurts when I laugh," Hutch groaned.  "Come to think of it, it hurts even when I don't laugh." 

"Yeah, I know."  Starsky moved away from his friend's side.  "You need to get some rest.  Can I get you anything?"

"You're not leaving, are you?"  As much as Hutch wanted to sleep, he hated the thought of being alone again.

"Nope, not going anywhere.  Just going to sit here in the chair and let you get some sleep."  Starsky ran his hand lightly across Hutch's forehead as he adjusted his pillow.  "You still feel a little warm.  I'm gonna wet this cloth and cool you off a little."

Starsky returned with the cool cloth.  Pulling the chair close to the bed, he sat and lightly wiped Hutch's face and neck. 

"Feels good," Hutch mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Don't fight it, just go to sleep.  I'll be right here when you wake up." 

With a slight nod, Hutch closed his eyes.

Starsky sat quietly, occasionally wiping his partner's face.  Hutch had drifted off to sleep and appeared to be resting comfortably.  Placing the now only damp cloth on the table next to the bed, Starsky leaned back and closed his eyes.  Minutes later, he was surprised to hear Hutch call his name.

"Starsk?"

"Right here, partner.  What can I get for you?"

"Nothing.  I just wanted to let you know I can't tell you anything about the guy who shot me.  It happened so fast.  And I really don't think I'd ever seen the guy before.  I really wish I could help, Starsk.  Sorry."  Hutch's voice sounded slurred and his eyes were fighting to stay open.  "I want to help, Starsk..."

"It's okay, Hutch.  I really think we're pretty close to nailing him.  Your neighbor, Mr. Reynolds, was a big help.  We'll get him.  I promise you that.  Now, how about you quit worrying about helping and just shut up and go to sleep?"

"I think I will go to sleep now.  Thanks, partner." 

This time, Hutch stayed asleep.  Starsky watched as he slept, dozing on and off himself.  Several hours later, needing to stretch his legs a bit and Hutch still sleeping peacefully, Starsky made his way down the corridor to the coffee machine. 

Standing in front of the coffee machine, Starsky watched as his captain walked briskly toward him.

"How's Hutch?"  Dobey slid some coins in the machine and waited as the paper cup filled with coffee.

"He seems to be doing pretty good.  He's sleeping right now." 

"That's good news, Starsky.  And I've got some good news for you.  We got him.  He's sitting in a cell right now."

"That's not good news--that's great news!"  Starsky felt as though a weight had been lifted from him.  His gut had been telling him that it was a case of mistaken identity, but there had still been a part of him terrified that maybe someone had actually been after Hutch and would make another attempt.  "Are we sure we got the right guy?"  Starsky had to be certain it was over.

"We're sure.  The guy actually confessed and apologized, too.  Told us he thought he was shooting a guy named Kyle Hanson.  It seems Hanson owed our Mr. Stanley some money.  He insisted he was really sorry he had shot the wrong guy."  Dobey shook his head.  "he claims it was an honest mistake.  Seems Mr. Hanson is also blond.  Add that to the fact that he used to live there, well, you can see how it may have happened.  the guy just kept insisting it was just a mistake.  I think he thought we should just let him go, since his shooting Hutch was an accident."

"Just a mistake.  A fucking mistake."  Now that it had been confirmed that it was just a case of mistaken identity, Starsky found himself even more enraged.  "Hutch could have been killed because he's blond and lives at Venice Place."  Starsky slammed his fist against the coffee machine, the sound echoing in the corridor. 

"Starsky, I know how you feel.  But let's just be thankful that this guy is not only stupid, but he's a bad shot, too."  The older man patted Starsky's shoulder.  "We really do have a lot to be thankful for."

"I know.  And I am thankful.  But I can't help being pissed, too."  Starsky swallowed the last of his coffee and tossed his cup into the nearby trash container.

"I know, Starsky, but it's over, and you should just concentrate on the fact that Hutch is going to be fine."

"I know, I know.  And that's all I'm gonna think about now--Hutch." 

"Good, I'm glad to hear that."  Dobey sighed deeply.  "Maybe tonight we can all get some sleep."  The stress the older man had been under was showing.  He looked tired, the strain showing on his face.  "Edith and I'll be by to see Hutch tomorrow.  I just wanted to check in and see how he was doing and let you know that we got our man."  Dobey started to walk away and then turned.  "oh, and you might as well take the next two days off.  You won't be any use to me anyway."

"Thanks."  Starsky couldn't hold back a wide grin.  Life was good again.  Hutch was going to be okay, and they had the shooter.  Hutch was now completely out of danger.  Well, as out of danger as either of them ever could be. 

Digging in his pocket, Starsky pulled out a bunch of change.  He juggled a cup of coffee, a newspaper, and a candy bar, as he sauntered down the hall in the direction of Hutch's room.

Arriving at the room, Starsky found his partner still asleep.  Pulling his chair closer to the bedside table, he laid the newspaper along with the coffee and candy on the table and sat back in the chair just enjoying the sight of his sleeping, breathing partner. 

Several hours later, Hutch opened his eyes to find Starsky deeply engrossed in the newspaper.  Not announcing the fact that he was awake, Hutch enjoyed a few quiet moments of observing his unsuspecting partner.  From his facial expressions, he has to be reading the comics. 

When a soft chuckle escaped his partner's lips, Hutch had to speak up.  "What's so funny?"

"Hey, you're awake."  Starsky immediately moved his chair closer to the bed.  "How ya feeling?"

"I'm okay, Starsk.  You can quit your worrying.  So, was it Marmaduke you were laughing at?"

"Who's worrying?  And how did you know it was Marmaduke?"

"Starsk, I've been listening to you laugh at Marmaduke for years now.  Even drugged, I know when you're reading the paper and laughing, that you're usually reading Marmaduke."

"Guess you know me, huh?"

"Yeah, I know you."  Hutch smiled, thinking about just how well he did know his partner.  "How are you doing?"

"Me?  I'm not the one who was shot."

"No, but you're the one who's been sitting here worrying."

"You're right.  But I'm not worrying anymore.  You're gonna be just fine.  And the best part is we got the guy who shot you."

Hutch didn't say anything for a while and Starsky respected his silence, wondering what was going on in Hutch's head. 

"So what exactly did I do to piss this person off so much?"  Hutch's tone sounded wary. 

Starsky hesitated, not sure how his partner was going to take the news that he had done nothing to instigate the shooting.  "Actually, Hutch, you didn't do anything to this guy.  The intended victim was the former tenant of your apartment." 

Hutch turned to face his friend, his face a mixture of confusion and anger.  "You're telling me I was shot by accident?  This was all a mistake?" 

"Yep, it was a case of mistaken identity.  You were sort of in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wrong place?  I was in my home."  Hutch made an unsuccessful attempt to get comfortable.  "Damn," he muttered under his breath as pain flared in his shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Hutch waited for the pain to ease.  "You know, part of me is mad as hell, but another part of me finds it almost funny."

Starsky hit the call button for a nurse, staring at his partner like he'd lost his mind.  "Funny?" 

"Starsky, there are a lot of people we've put away who would love a chance to put a couple of bullets in me.  In our line of work, when one of us gets shot, it's not usually a case of mistaken identity.  Think about it; it is kind of funny."

"I think you've lost your mind.  You think it's funny?  Well, let me tell you that I don't find anything funny about it at all.  Listening to those shots being fired, finding you in a heap inside your door, gushing blood is not my idea of funny."  Starsky was pacing now, after shoving aside the chair he'd been sitting in.  All the fear he'd felt at the time of the shooting was coming out in full force.  "Not a damn thing funny about it."

"Starsky, calm down.  I know it's not funny.  I didn't mean what happened was funny, just that the reason it happened was a little funny...strange...oh, forget it."  Hutch didn't feel up to trying to explain anything right now.

Before Starsky could get out a response, the nurse bustled in.  "He needs something for the pain."  Starsky nodded toward Hutch.

"And he needs a sedative."  Hutch nodded toward Starsky. 

Looking from one detective to the other, the nurse said, "I'll be back with something for the pain," she said pointing at Hutch.  Then looking at Starsky, "you, I can't help. sorry."

Starsky stood with a pained expression on his face, as he watched the nurse leave the room.  "And just what did that remark mean?"

"Starsk, sit down.  she only meant she couldn't give you the sedative I requested for you." 

"I was referring to your comment about me needing a sedative.  Your sense of humor today is sadly lacking."

"Sorry."

"You should be."  Starsky flopped back down into the chair.

"Starsk, I didn't mean to upset you.  Believe me I know none of this is funny.  And I understand what you went through.  Really, I do."

Their conversation was interrupted by the return of the nurse.  After a quick check of Hutch's temperature, she administered the painkiller so efficiently and quickly, he barely had time to grimace before it was over.  With a quick fluff of the pillows, the nurse was gone.

Starsky had watched appreciatively as the nurse went through the doorway.  Turning his attention back to his partner, he found Hutch staring off into space.  Almost as if he had forgotten Starsky was there. 

"Talk to me, Hutch.  How do you really feel about what happened?"  Starsky's voice was soft now, almost apologetic.  He knew he had upset Hutch with his little outburst.  He hadn't wanted to hurt him, but the idea that there was anything funny about what happened had brought all Starsky's fears rushing to the surface.  Thinking about the sounds of the three shots he had heard, Starsky's heart had begun a frantic pounding. 

"I was so scared.  I knew I didn't have a chance.  There was nothing I could do."  Hutch's voice was practically a whisper.  "For one, brief second I remember thinking 'just slam the door,' but before I could even react to that thought, I heard the shots and felt the impact of the bullets hitting me.  I was sure I was going to die there all alone and with you mad at me."  Now it was Hutch who was becoming upset.  "I felt so helpless.  Helpless and scared." 

"Take it easy, babe."  Starsky moved from the chair to the bed and pulled his trembling partner close.  "I know exactly how you felt.  I felt the same way."

"Now, I feel angry.  Angry and even a little sad.  What the hell is wrong with people, Starsk?"  Hutch almost choked out the words.  "Do people even think about what they're doing anymore?  I hate feeling so damn angry."   

"I know all about feeling angry.  That was my first reaction when I realized it looked like a case of mistaken identity."  Starsky's fingers played absently with the fine strands of Hutch's hair as he talked.  I don't even want to think about if I'd've arrived at your place..."  Shaking off the chill he felt, Starsky whispered, "It's over now.  Nothing to be scared of, and no point in being angry.  We can't change anything, so I think we should just put it out of our minds."  Starsky was relieved to feel the body he held close begin to relax.  It was just too damn close a call.  If that idiot had been a better shot, my partner would be dead now.  And my life wouldn't be worth living.  The world would be a pretty cold place without you, buddy.

"I know you're right.  I'm just not sure I can do it.  At least not right away." 

Hutch's voice jolted Starsky back from his dark thoughts.  "You can, and I know you will.  Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.  You just have to let it go, partner."

The feel of Starsky's arm around him and the soft reassuring tone he was using brought a warm feeling of comfort and safety to Hutch.  Those feelings added to the pain medication taking effect, and Hutch felt himself drifting off.  "Starsk, I love you."  The words were beginning to slur a bit, but it didn't stop Hutch from saying what he felt he had to say.  "I don't know what I'd do without you.  Thanks for being here." 

Starsky smiled down into the blue eyes that, despite his best effort, Hutch just couldn't keep open.  "Love you, too, buddy.  I'll always be here for you."

Hutch's eyes fluttered a bit.  "You going to stay with me when I get out of this place?"

"You know I will.  Do you really have to ask?"  Starsky patted Hutch's hand.  "Just go to sleep, blintz.  I'll be around to take care of everything."

"Good, I think I'm going to need someone to answer my door for a while."  With a faint smile on his face, Hutch gave up his feeble attempt at staying awake.

"You got it, partner."  With a matching smile, Starsky made himself comfortable next to his partner and closed his eyes.

THE END