Story #2: Every Rose
It was five o'clock on the dot when I pulled away from the station. Starsky wasn't with me. He's been out with a bug that's been going around. Just got over it myself last week. He seemed to be feeling a little better this morning though.
I was driving home on auto-pilot, lost in thought. I was feeling good and looking forward to a relaxing evening. Eating pizza and watching the baseball game with my best friend equals bliss for me these days. If that means I'm getting old, then so be it.
You've probably had one of those times when you pull into your driveway and don't remember the actual drive home. I once read this book about drawing, and the author used this as an example of right brain control. The book explores the idea that learning to draw is easier if you let the right brain take over. Another good example would be a state of meditation.
Anyway, you know what I mean, but you're probably wondering, what's my point, so here it is. As much as it helps to be in this state of mind when you're drawing or meditating, it's probably not such a good thing when you're driving. I never made it to the driveway.
* * *
"Hutch?"
I heard my name, but it sounded far away. I tried to open my eyes, but it just seemed like too much effort.
"Hey, buddy. Better be careful. I think I almost saw those pretty blue eyes."
Guess maybe I must have opened them a little after all. I tried again with better success. The light was low, but I could still tell I was in the hospital.
"That's better. How ya doing?"
"Hey . . ." I choked a little on the one little word. My mouth was pretty dry.
"Here, try this."
He was holding my head and managed to pour a little water in my mouth. I swallowed and then rolled my head to the side a little until I could feel his hand on my face. I closed my eyes. "Thanks, Starsk."
"No problem. How ya doing?"
"Sleepy."
* * *
The next time I woke up, it was easier to open my eyes and the light was brighter. I could see sunshine from the window, even though the view was just the building next door. Sort of a waste of a window.
Between me and the window, my partner was curled up in a chair. Really two chairs. He was sort of on his side, with one pillow wedged behind his back, and his head on another pillow over the arm of the chair. His feet were propped up on the second chair. He had no shoes on, and one foot was also missing a sock
Aw, Starsk, you should be home in bed.
Still couldn't really remember what happened or why I was here. Didn't really seem that important though for some reason. I must be just a little too used to waking up in the hospital. That's sort of pathetic, isn't it?
I didn't want to move too much, but I moved one hand over my chest and stomach and didn't feel any bandages. I felt a little achy all over, especially my chest; and my head hurt. My legs didn't hurt or anything . . .
A wave of panic swept over me. There was a queasy feeling in my stomach.
I can't feel my legs at all.
"Hey, you okay."
I didn't think I had made a sound, but he was right there. By my side. Holding my hand. I squeezed his hand hard and looked deep into those amazing blue eyes. My stomach felt a little better, but I couldn't make any words come out. I just kept looking at my partner.
"Come on, Hutch, what's the matter? It's gonna be okay. What's wrong?"
"My legs . . ." was all I could manage.
He sighed and looked a little relieved. "It's okay. The doctor said they might feel a little numb for a while."
The panic eased a little then, and I could breathe better.
"When your car hit that tree, the air bag inflated. Somehow the seat came loose though. You were pushed up against the air bag and your legs were crammed up in front of you. It took some time to get you out because the car was crunched too. Your head hit the side window, and you've been out of it for awhile."
As he was talking, he was squeezing the top of my leg, and the panic was gone now. I could feel the pressure from his hand. I realized the truth in what he was saying. My legs felt numb, but I could feel them.
"According to the x-rays, the doc says, there shouldn't be any problems." He smiled then, and I felt warm inside. "I told you these air bags . . . won't be long they'll be in every car you buy."
I snorted at that. Yeah sure.
The air bag probably saved a lot of pain and maybe even your life."
"Starsky, it's not gonna work." I narrowed my eyes, in what I hoped was a stern expression, but it probably wasn't very effective from a hospital patient. He knew I didn't like it when he let Merle put crazy contraptions in my car . . . even if this one did turn out to be a good thing.
"Well, it also doesn't hurt that that clunker of yours is . . .er, was . . . built like a tank."
I closed my eyes briefly thinking of what my car must look like. "What happened?"
He lowered his head closer, so his forehead was almost touching mine, and raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be telling me that?" he asked with that too charming little smirk.
I blinked and smiled, and maybe I even blushed. I hate it that I do that. "I don't remember too much. I was thinking about pizza and baseball and my best friend."
He didn't have a chance to say anything, but his smile was more than enough reply.
"Sorry, you two, but you're gonna have to wait til later for the smoochin' cuz the Huggy Bear is here and I come bearing grub."
It was Starsky's turn to blush. Isn't that funny? I love it when he does it.
"We weren't gonna . . ."
"Yeah, yeah." Huggy cut him off mid-sentence. Some day maybe you clowns will get a clue." Leave it to Huggy to tell it like it is.
Huggy was opening up the paper bags he'd brought. I started to close my eyes and savor the aroma of home cooking.
"Well, I can see I'm just in time. Something smells terrific." I opened my eyes to see Captain Dobey filling the space in front of me, with a friendly smile and a big bunch of white roses.
Roses?
"Wow, Cap, roses?" He always brings flowers, but roses seemed a little much.
Now I think he was blushing, but it's hard to tell. Besides he was mostly just eyeing what was coming out of Huggy's paper bags. "Uh, yeah, they were out of carnations."
"Here, Starsky, do something with these," he said, as he pushed the roses at my partner. Starsky didn't have a choice really, except to grab them, and he must have wrapped his hand around them pretty tight.
"Ow ww ww." Somehow, he said that in three syllables.
Everybody just stopped and looked at Starsky, who had dropped the flowers on the floor and was staring at the blood on his punctured hand. He looked a little like a kid who's pet hamster had just bit him.
It was quiet in the room for close to a minute.
"Eve ... ry ... Rose ... Has ... Its ... Thorn."
Starsky just gave me a dirty look. Guess he didn't like my singing. I don't blame him really. It wasn't my best performance. After all, I'm a recovering accident victim.
* * *
His hand is bandaged now, and Starsky is snoring next to me.
I missed out on that relaxing evening at home, eating pizza and watching the ballgame, but it all worked out okay. Just had to settle for a relaxing afternoon instead, having Huggy's home-made soup, and watching game shows.
It was a little crowded though. They don't make hospital beds for two people.
I had to let him share with me. After all, he's still getting over that cold.
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Author's Note: With all the hurt-Starsky fics that will come from this contest, I thought some of us might want a hurt-Hutch story thrown in for good measure.