INVICTUS

OUT of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud,

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Starsky & Hutch: Invictus

By

Katherine Atkins

He had a treatment today. They always wipe him out. Sometimes we have to stay overnight at the hospital, but this time we got to come home. Home to his apartment. I sublet mine and moved in with him when the doctor told us he shouldn't be alone. He didn't want me to do it, said he'd hire a nurse. But I told him it was me or nothing. He groused, but I think he was glad. He hasn't complained, anyway. Says he's seen prettier nurses, but beggars can't be choosers.

He was too sick to want to eat after today's treatment, so we just sat on the sofa. Rather, I sat on the sofa, and he laid on it, his head in my lap. We were supposedly watching TV, but he had his eyes closed, and I was running my fingers through his hair and just looking at his face. He was so pale, and there were new pain lines on his forehead, lines that I didn't think had been there, even yesterday.

"Starsk?" He muttered. He sounded so tired. But I could feel his body tensing, and I knew what was wrong.

"Take it easy," I encouraged, as I eased him to a sitting position. "Come on. Easy."

I stood and pulled him to his feet, and wrapped my arms around him. "Hold on, Babe." He threw his arm around my neck, and I practically carried him to the bathroom. Which wasn't hard, because he's lost so much weight. We made it, barely. I knew enough by then to leave him to his misery. I shut the door and stood beside it until the gagging sounds stopped and he said weakly, "Okay, Starsk." He was so weak he couldn't even stand, so he sat on the bathroom floor, his head resting on the edge of the tub while I wet a rag with cool water and wiped his face and neck.

"Better?" I ask softly.

He nodded, but I know he was just saying it so I wouldn't worry. Trying to protect me. Like always.

I pull him up and supported him. He leaned against me, his head on my shoulder. I just stood there, letting him gather any wisp of strength he can find. "Wanna watch some more TV?" I asked. "Casablanca's on tonight."

He shook his head. It was a small movement, one I can barely feel against my shoulder. "No," he whispered. "I think I need to go to bed."

I pushed him away, holding his arms tight. "Are you okay?" Even in this condition, he seldom complains or admits to being anything but fine.

He somehow managed a smile for me. "I'm okay, just tired."

Yeah, he's okay all right. As okay as you can be when your body turns on you. As okay as you can be when your blood gets so clogged up with the wrong kind of cells that it doesn't work anymore. As okay as you can be when your joints ache and your body burns and every breath is an effort.

I got him settled in the bed and pulled the covers to his shoulders. "Good night."

"Thanks for tucking me in, Mom," he whispered, managing a wicked grin.

I pretended to swat him one and grinned back. "Go to sleep, Blondie."

Life is so strange, ya know? Hutch has always been the one who tried to be healthy. He's always eaten that health food stuff and talked about eating right. He groused at me about the "unhealthy" food I eat, although it never bothered him to pick food off my plate. It got so I ordered more than I wanted so he could pick a little off of my plate. But he tried, he really tried to be take care of himself.

Before he got really sick, he ran every morning. And had a health shake for breakfast. Now he can't even walk around the block without help, and if I can get him to eat more than a couple of bites of anything I call it a major victory.

Just a few months ago, it was me who needed taking care of. I was attacked in the police garage. No one thought I'd live, not even Hutch. But I did. Hutch was there with me, sitting with me in the hospital, taking care of me when I got home. He was so patient, and so determined. He wouldn't give up, even when I didn't think I could take any more.

It was a tough few months, but I made it back, thanks to him. I sometime wonder though, it maybe he gave me too much. He exhausted himself taking care of me, and didn't have any strength to fight when the leukemia hit. I know, I know, leukemia isn't a virus, like the flu. It's not something you can fight off.

I got better and I went back to work.

He didn't even tell me how bad he was really feeling, and had been feeling for awhile. Oh, I knew he was having problems. He'd get tired, and sometimes he moved like he ached all over. His skin is really fair, and sometimes he got so flushed I knew he had a fever. But he said it was just the flu, and he'd be all right. It just seemed to keep hanging on. He'd get better for a day or two, then it would come back, pain and aches and fever.

On the day of the raid, he'd been sick for several days. When I picked him up for work that morning, he walked real slow and his eyes seemed almost glazed. I was fussing at him, telling him he needed to see a doctor. His voice was raspy, like his throat was sore, and he was sitting forward in the seat, his arms wrapped around his abdomen, but he wouldn't give in. He was determined to take part in the raid. We'd finally gotten a line on a drug warehouse, which was owned by one of the biggest drug slimes in the city. If we could get in, we'd cripple his operation for months, and if we were really lucky we'd get something to link the guy to the warehouse. Even if we couldn't stop him, we'd hurt him. Sometimes that has to be enough.

We spent the day getting ready, coordinating with the other agencies that were involved, trying to iron out last minute details. Hutch was hanging in, but he was hurting and I could tell he had a high fever. I tried to talk to Dobey, but he didn't have time to listen, and Hutch refused to. So we went to the warehouse.

The raid went great. We caught them by surprise, confiscated millions of dollars in drugs that would have been sold to innocent and not so innocent victims all over the city. The slime, his name's Gregory Madison, by the way, will be out of business for a few weeks, anyway.

After the raid, and all the paperwork was done, a group of happy police and drug enforcement agents met at "The Pits" for a celebration. Hutch and I didn't make it. We were on our way there in my car, when I realized that he'd was having another nosebleed. He had a lot of them since he first picked up that flu. I took him home; he'd stopped bleeding by the time I got him there, but I refused to take him to the party. I made him take a cool shower and some aspirin and stayed at his place until he finally grumbled his way to bed and went to sleep.

The next day he was scheduled for his annual physical, and I told him to be sure he told the doc about his flu. And I reminded him to tell him about the nosebleeds.

He scoffed of course, but I made him promise to talk to the doc. His physical was scheduled for 4:00, so I told him to call me when he got home, if he felt like it.

He didn't call, but it didn't worry me. He hates doctors and needles. I figured he had a rough time and didn't want to talk about it. He doesn't like to complain about his problems, not the big ones anyway.

But the next day, he called and said he had some stuff to take care of, so I didn't need to pick him up. He didn't exactly say he was goin' to work, but that's what I assumed. I still wasn't concerned. He had a life after all. Sometimes we didn't drive together, when one of us had something to do. I didn't think it was unusual.

I didn't know the doctor had put him on sick leave and ordered him to the hospital for tests. I didn't know he was going in early that day to turn in his badge and gun before he reported to the hospital. And I didn't know he was planning to keep the doctors concerns from me because he didn't want me to worry.

When I got to the precinct, he had already gone. All Dobey would tell me is that the doctor was concerned about Hutch's flu, and he was taking a couple of days off. I didn't like that because we were scheduled for a double-shift, and Dobey told me I couldn't slack off because my partner wasn't there. He kept me busy all day, and I didn't leave until after 10 that night. It didn't even strike me as odd that Dobey stayed until I left or that he told me not to bother Hutch, that he was probably already asleep.

I drove by his place. The windows of his apartment were dark, so I assumed Dobey was right. I didn't know the blond was still in the hospital, and had asked Dobey to have one of the uniforms drive Hutch's car to his place, so I wouldn't be suspicious when it wasn't parked there.

The next day, Dobey partnered me with a new guy, James Brenton. I was supposed to show him the ropes while Dobey decided what to do with him. That's right. I said James. Not Jim or Jimmy or Jimbo. James. He told me three times in the first hour that his name was James. You can guess how well we got along. And he refused to ride in my car. Said it was vulgar! Can you imagine? He had a Chevrolet! A Chevrolet! A dark blue Chevrolet. And a four-door, at that. (Of course, Hutch's car is a four door, but it has character. Don't tell him I said that.) I huddled in the passenger seat of Brenton's car, hoping no one saw me in it. I was so irritated by James and his stupid car, I didn't think about Hutch much. I think that's why Dobey put us together.

But by the third day, I was getting suspicious. I tried to call Hutch a couple of times and never could get an answer. No matter when I drove by his place, it was always quiet. The blinds were closed, no lights on, his car always sitting in the same place. I didn't want to go to the door, in case he was resting. I thought he'd call me if he needed me. That's what I thought. But he didn't call.

So I confronted Dobey, demanding to know what was going on with Hutch. Of course, this wasn't the best move I could have made. Especially since I stormed his office, slammed the door, pounded my fist on his desk, and yelled, "I want to know what's going on with Hutch, and I want to know now!"

Needless to say, he took exception to my attitude. At the top of his lungs, I might add. We were still yelling at each other when his phone rang. I sat down, put my feet on his desk and planned my next persuasive remark while he settled back into his chair with the phone to his ear.

"Dobey!"

I could hear the voice on the other end of the line, but I could only make out some of the words. I sat forward when I heard "Hutchinson". Dobey tried to turn away and whispered something about "keep your voice down," but I heard "results" and "this afternoon" and "may need some support."

Dobey just said, "Okay" and hung up, daring me to ask him who was on the phone. I just smiled sweetly at him and went back to my desk.

I made sure that James and I had a lot of paperwork to do that day, so it just so happened that I was at my desk when Dobey left. I suddenly remembered an errand I needed to run, and told James that I had to go. All right. So I followed Dobey. My partner was in some kind of trouble, and I had to find out what was going on. And Dobey had my answers.

My heart lurched as we got closer to the hospital. Hutch's flu had gotten worse, and he hadn't told me. I parked several spaces away from Dobey, and followed him in. It was a busy time of day, shift change and all, so I didn't have any trouble keeping him in sight without being seen. Let's face it. Dobey is hard to lose, in any crowd. Don't tell him I said that. I'll deny it.

Anyway, I followed him to a room in the hematology unit. I knew that had something to do with blood, so I was starting to get a little worried. And when I looked into the room Dobey went into, and saw Hutch lying on the bed, looking he'd had a bad blind date with a vampire, I knew. I knew! And I saw red. Everything seemed to be covered by a red haze. Even Dobey. And Hutch. Hutch was so pale, I could barely tell where his skin left off and the bed sheet began. And he was looking at me. Those blue eyes held pain and fear and concern. Concern for me.

"Starsk? Starsk are you all right?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I turned and walked out.

"Starsk!" His pitiful cry followed me down the corridor but I couldn't turn around. I just couldn't. I kept walking, until I got to the elevator. The doors were closed. So I did the logical thing. I started hitting the closed doors, yelling and cursing and telling them to open up. They finally did, just as Dobey caught up with me.

He stopped next to me, but he didn't stop me as I stepped into the car. But when I entered the elevator and turned around to press the button, I saw Hutch standing in the doorway of his room. He'd just stood there, watching me walk away, looking alone and scared in his hospital gown, like a little boy whose parents have left him on the first day of school. I hadn't noticed how much weight he's lost, but I saw how gaunt and frail he looked. And suddenly it didn't matter how I felt. Hutch needed me.

My partner watched me stop the doors as they tried to shut, and began walking down the hall. I ran the last few steps before skidding to a stop in front of him, but he still just stood there. I put my hand against his cheek. "It's okay, Blintz. I'm here." His hand moved to grab onto my wrist, and I pulled him into my arms. He leaned against me, and I realized just how tired he was. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed." I stayed with him the rest of the day and held his hand when the doctor came in to give us the test results.

Leukemia. Just hearing the word is horrifying. And knowing that it applies to your best friend, your partner, is horrifying and terrifying all at the same time. That was the diagnosis. At first he wouldn't believe it, said they were wrong. Refused to believe it. But I knew. And I knew he was trying so hard not to admit he was sick because he didn't want to leave me. I took him home that night.

For several weeks, he was able to stay alone during the day. The doctor wouldn't let him come back to work, but he could take care of himself. I stopped by before work, and after, and sometimes during lunch. I was partnered with James again, which thrilled me no end. But he didn't grouse when I wanted to check on Hutch, and he seemed to understand how it was between Hutch and me. He even said he hoped that when he got a permanent partner, they'd get to be friends like me and Hutch were. I didn't bother to tell him that it probably wouldn't happen. Partners like Hutch only come along once in a great while, and I still didn't understand how I'd been lucky enough to find him. Course, Hutch always says he's the lucky one. I know better.

The treatments were hard on him, but he usually bounced back fast. Sure enough the day after the treatment I was tellin' you about, he woke me up in the morning when I heard him rattling pots in the kitchen. I smiled at the thought that he was feeling well enough to get up and make coffee. Then I frowned. To be happy that he could make coffee...

I glanced at the clock and raced out of bed, grabbing my clean clothes and hotfooting it into the shower.

"Mornin' Hutch!" I yelled as I slammed the bathroom door.

I could hear my partner's laughter. "Let me guess, Starsk. You're late again."

"Yeah!" I called as I turned the shower on full force. He had coffee ready for me and I found a hand holding a steaming cup poking through the bathroom door when I stepped out of the shower. I drank the coffee while I dressed and shaved, then went out to the kitchen. He had a plate of pancakes and sausage ready for me. He'd wrapped the sausages with the pancakes so I could eat them like sandwiches as I drove in. "See you later partner."

I caught a glimpse of anxiety in his eyes, but he smiled. "Take care, Starsk."

I hate desk duty. Everyone knows that, especially Hutch. He was really angry with me when I asked Dobey to put me on it for awhile. I told him and Dobey and myself that it was only temporary. I'm not sure if any of us believed it. But Hutch can't work. Not as a policeman. He's talked about getting a job, to help with expenses, but his medical leave pay is enough for now. If it runs out, then we'll have to see, I guess. Anyway, I asked for desk duty because I knew that Hutch was worried sick about me being on the streets. Between what happened with Gunther, and my protective partner's not being able to be there to back me up now, he was getting to be a real basket case. He never trusted anyone to back me up but himself.

He nearly tore himself apart after Gunther had me shot. It took me months to convince him that it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't because he didn't take care of me, protect me. And the medication he's on isn't helping. It makes him anxious and paranoid and very emotional. Great combination, huh?

It all came to a head one night when I got home late and Hutch wasn't there. Or at least I thought he wasn't. I couldn't find him. It was late and the apartment was dark. I had been at the Courthouse most of the afternoon, doing some research for one of the detective teams.

Just as I was beginning to panic and was reaching for the phone to call Huggy, I heard a noise in the greenhouse. It was Hutch. He was sitting in a corner in the dark. I turned on the light, and he turned his head away, but not quickly enough for me to miss the tears coursing silently down his cheeks.

I sat beside him. "What's wrong, partner?"

"I'm okay," he told me, but his voice quivered and he took a deep breath that ended in a sob.

"Hutch?"

He drew his knees up and rested his forehead on his arms. "I'll be okay," he whispered.

I reached for him, putting my hand under his chin and raising his face, turning it to look at me. He didn't resist, just stared at me with tears still glistening in his eyes.

Before I could say anything, the phone rang. I cursed under my breath as I went to answer. I glanced back to see Hutch leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around his legs, his body rocking slowly back and forth.

"Starsky."

"Hey, my man. It's Hug. How's the blond one?"

"He's uh…why do you ask?"

"I just figured he might be upset. There was a bulletin about an hour ago on the radio and TV, an unidentified policeman was badly wounded. No names, pending notification of next of kin, but they knew he worked for Metro and was a detective. I was just calling Hutch to see if…"

"If it was me?" I asked. My voice sounded strained.

Huggy paused. "Uh, yeah bro, I wanted to make sure you're okay. Both of you."

"Thanks Hug. I'm fine, but I need to check on the Blintz. I gotta go. Catch you later, okay?"

I sat down next to Hutch and put my arm around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my shoulder. "I was so scared, Starsk. I tri…tried to call Dobey, to find out if was you. They wouldn't put me through, wouldn't tell me if you were in the precinct, said they couldn't give out any information on the injured officer. I was so afraid it was you, and no one would tell me anything." His body shook with sobs. I held him closer, swaying back and forth as I tried to soothe him. My hand rubbed his trembling back in soothing circles as I whispered, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm all right. Everything's okay."

Finally the sobs slowed, then stopped. He was totally exhausted. I helped him get up, then walked him into the bedroom, supporting most of his weight. He collapsed into the bed. I took his shoes off and then my own, and slid under the covers with him. He came into my arms and was asleep in moments, his body curled around mine, his head on my shoulder, his arms around me to make sure I didn't go anywhere. I lay there with him, and thought about things until my stomach started rumbling. I eased out of the bed, but he was so exhausted he didn't even stir.

I don't think he moved all night. That's when I knew how hard it had been on him, what a physical toll his fear had taken. And I knew I couldn't do it to him anymore. The doctors say the medicines are messing with his emotional stability, or something like that. All I knew is I wanted his life to be as calm and peaceful as possible, and if knowing I'm working at a desk helped, then I'd do it. Whatever it took.

Boy, was he mad when I told him. He ranted and raved for over an hour. I just sat and watched him pace, waiting for him to calm down enough for us to be able to talk. The books I've read talk a lot about helping "the patient" deal with the anger they feel, the frustration of having their own body turn against them. So I just let him rant, hoping it would help him let off some steam. He eventually wound down, and we talked. He still didn't like it, but I told him I wouldn't change my mind, and he said "Okay."

Trouble was, when I took desk duty, it was a sign to him. A sign that I didn't think he'd get better. And he started to give up.

I realized that he was losing hope when I started seein' things in the mail. First it was a copy of his will, which he'd had his lawyer draw up. We both had wills, but he'd had his revised to include instructions on what to do if he got to the point that machines were the only thing keeping him alive. Then it was a letter confirming the funeral arrangements he'd made with a funeral home that specialized in "Pre-burial plans", whatever that means. And then he started getting' confirmations that his bills were paid in full. And then he asked me if I'd put my name on his checking and savings account so I'd have access to them if I needed to use them.

In spite of all that though, he really worried that taking care of him was a burden for me. I kept tryin' to tell him that I wanted to help him, to be there for him, but he still worried. I didn’t know how much he wanted to take my "burden" away until he left.

James and I were workin' in the office one day. We were catchin' up on some old files. James was typin' while I was tryin' to find some information that was missin' from the file.

James stopped typin' and looked at me. "Uh, Dave. I'm not supposed to tell you…"

I looked up. "Tell me what?"

He bowed his head. "I…I got a call from Hutchinson earlier…"

"Hutch called you? Why?" I didn't like this. Not at all.

James shrugged. "He wouldn't say. He just said that he wouldn't be home at lunchtime, and I should tell you so you wouldn't try to come by." I started to protest, but he held up his hand. "He said not to tell you until after 11." He frowned, and I saw the concern in his eyes. "And he said to tell…to tell you goodbye for him."

"What?" I was already at the door. "When did he call?" I looked at the clock. It was almost 9:30. Thank heaven James hadn't waited.

"Ten minutes ago."

I was already grabbin' my jacket and headin' for the door. "Tell Dobey I'm loggin' out."

I was too late. Hutch was already gone.

I'm a cop. I know how to find people. Put out an APB. Call the bus stations, the airport. Call the cab companies. See if anyone picked up a blond passenger. See where they took him.

But I was paralyzed. I sat on the sofa, staring at nothing, wondering what I'd do if he'd really left. Wondering what he had gone off alone to do. Finally, I made myself move, made myself look around. Some of his clothes were gone, his shaving stuff, his herbal shampoo. He'd cleaned out the refrigerator, thrown away all the health food he knew I wouldn't eat, washed up the dirty dishes from breakfast. Making everything perfect for me. At least it looked like he was plannin' to go somewhere, not just going off to do somethin' stupid. But, I was really getting scared. I couldn't help bein' glad that he'd had to turn in the Magnum.

I was finishing up my inspection, getting ready to call Dobey, when I heard a key in the lock. I froze, my hand automatically moving toward my shoulder holster.

I don't know who was more surprised. Me or Hutch. We both just stood there, staring at each other. I finally managed to speak around the lump in my throat.

"Hutch?"

He stood in the doorway, a bag in each hand. He was so pale, and his face was shiny with sweat. He looked exhausted. He took a step and closed the door with his foot before dropping the bags as if they were suddenly too heavy to carry. He took another step, but his knees buckled. I barely caught him before he hit the floor. He had passed out. I gathered him into my arms, and scooted until my back was against the couch. I just sat there, stroking the damp hair away from his forehead, wondering what he had put himself through to get into this shape.

Finally, his eyes opened. "Sorry…sorry." He closed his eyes, but a telltale tear slipped out of the corner.

"Sh! You don't have to be sorry, Babe. Ever."

"I'm sorry, Starsk. Sorry I'm being so selfish…"

"Selfish? What are you talkin' about?" I asked gently. "You don't have a selfish bone in your body, Blintz."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to look at me. He was ashamed and for the life of me, I didn't know why.

"I couldn't. I tried…I wanted to. But I couldn't. I should have…" He was rambling, almost incoherent. Seein' him like this was scarin' me.

I pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around him. He was getting so thin, it wasn't hard. "What is it, Blondie? Tell me what you're talkin' about."

He buried his face in my shoulder. I had to strain to hear him. "I tried to leave. I was going. But I couldn't do it. I'm so sorry, Starsk." He raised his head, finally looking at me. "You deserve more than this. You should have a life, Buddy. A good life, not hanging around taking care of me. I want that for you. I really thought I could do it, I thought I could leave." His eyes darkened in self-hatred. "But I couldn't. I'm selfish. I…I need you, Starsk. I'm sorry. I should have left. But, I…I need you. Please forgive me. Please…" His face was in my shoulder again, but I heard, "Don't leave me."

I cradled him like he was a kid. A big scared kid, thinking about what was ahead and afraid to face it alone. "Of course I'm stayin'," I crooned. "If you'd left, I'd a found you. You know that, don't ya, Hutch. Don't ya? You don't think I'd a let you walk away without even saying nothin' do ya?"

He sighed. I think he wanted to say something, but he was totally exhausted and he just couldn't stay awake any longer. So I lowered him so he could lie across my lap and he slept like that, on the floor, his head in the crook of my arm for a couple of hours. My arm went numb, and my legs were so profoundly asleep I wondered if they'd ever feel again, but I didn't care. My own comfort just wasn't important. What was important was there in front of me, peacefully asleep, totally trusting me to take care of him.

When I asked him later where he'd planned to go, he said he was goin' to Minnesota. His Mom had promised to find a hospital or a nursing home where he could be taken care of. I'm glad he didn't go through with it. The thought of strangers taking care of Blondie made my blood run cold. And we won't even talk about why his family in Minnesota couldn't take care of him.

Things settled back into a routine. Treatments and recovery from the treatments, and more treatments. The doctors kept trying new stuff, because the old stuff just wasn't workin'. And Hutch just kept on, trying as hard as he knew how to get well. At least he didn't talk about leavin' again. He did insist that I get out and do things. Sometimes he even felt well enough to go with me.

And then my Ma got sick. It was a really bad case of the flu that turned into pneumonia. I had to go. I kept telling myself over and over again that I had to go. Hutch told me that, too. But I was torn. Hutch needed me. He finally just put his foot down, and made the travel arrangements for me.

"You leave this afternoon. You'd better get packed," he told me.

"But Hutch."

"Don't 'But Hutch' me, Turkey. This is your mother we're talking about. You have to go. She needs you." He had stalked over to the closet and started pulling out my clothes.

"Hutch."

He turned around then. He had tears in his eyes. "Starsky, you want to go. You have to go. I want you to go. I'll be okay. I promise."

"Promise?" I asked softly.

"Promise."

That's the first promise he ever made to me that he broke.

He knew I wouldn't leave him if he was gonna be alone, so he asked Edith Dobey to come by during the day. She told him she'd stay all day, but he said it wasn't necessary. She said she'd stay anyway, and he agreed, reluctantly.

The nights are the worst for Hutch, when he doesn't have anything to distract him from the aches and pains. Edith said she could stay until the evening, but Hutch made her promise that she would go home then to take care of Dobey and the kids.

Huggy volunteered to come by after "The Pits" closed, and Hutch assured me he'd call Dobey if something happened when no one was there. I had to be satisfied with that. I had to make sure Ma was taken care of.

My Ma came out fine, but it was close. I stayed in New York for a couple of weeks, until she came home from the hospital. I called Hutch every night and every morning. He threatened to have the phone disconnected if I kept callin' so much, but I told him if he did I was comin' straight back to California.

But then one night, there was no answer when I called. I worried all night, and then tried the next morning. No answer.

I was getting ready to call Huggy when the phone in Ma's hospital room rang. It was Edith Dobey.

"Edith, where's Hutch?" I didn't even say 'hello', 'how are ya' or nothin'. I knew why she was callin'.

"He started feeling bad, really bad, two days ago, and the doctor sent him to the hospital, just as a precaution. It was only supposed to be overnight."

"Edith, what happened?" I asked, fighting for control.

She was silent for a moment. I was holding my breath, afraid of what she'd say, afraid that he'd gone without telling me goodbye. "He's still in the hospital. I'm in his room now. He thought he'd be out before you got back…"

"What happened?" My voice shook, in spite of my efforts to control it.

"He developed a fever. Just a flu bug, but it hit him hard because he's so weak. Somehow…somehow he had a bad reaction to one of the medications. He went into shock. Luckily, a nurse was in the room with him when he started reacting. She called in a code team, and they were able to revive him."

"Revive…revive him?" My voice broke. I hadn't croaked like that since I was 14 years old.

"He'll be okay, David. But he has to stay in the hospital for a few more days. That's why he asked me to call. He knows you'll be calling him at home and he doesn't want you to worry when there's no answer."

"Are you with him, now? Can I talk to him?"

Another long silence. "He's asleep. He's very weak, and all this has exhausted him. He wants so much to be in good shape when you see him…"

"Will he be?" I questioned, softly.

"I don't know," she responded, her voice as soft as mine.

I called his hospital room that night and talked to him. He sounded really wiped out, but he kidded me about all the pretty nurses he had waitin' on him. He was putting up a front. I knew it and he knew I knew. But he wasn't about to give in. So I didn't either.

I told him I'd be home in a couple of days. He asked my about Ma, and I assured him she was getting well and that it was okay for me to come home. "Don't leave her, Starsk. Not until she's well," he told me.

"I won't Blintz. I'll see you in a few days."

My Ma knew I needed to get back to Hutch, so she insisted I go. She was feelin' better, and one of her friends said she'd stay with her. I hated leavin' but I was so worried about Hutch I let them convince me to go.

The trip home took an eternity. I was sure they'd turned the plane around and we were goin' the wrong way. And it seemed like we circled the airport for hours. But finally I was puttin' my bags in the Torino and headin' for the hospital.

He was asleep when I finally got to his room. He had lost more weight he couldn't afford to lose and his skin had a grayish tone to it. But he opened his eyes when I took his hand and whispered, "Starsk. Welcome home." I couldn't say anything. I just sat on the bed and pulled him into my arms, holding him while he went back to sleep.

I took him home the next morning. He was stronger than he was the night before, but that didn't mean much. I helped him into the car, and into the apartment when I got him home.

I held him all that day, afraid to let him go except to take care of my own needs, eating and other necessities. He didn't want to eat, but I got him to drink some broth and sips of juice. I wasn't hungry either, at least I didn't think so. But he got so worried about me I did fix myself a sandwich, and wolfed it down in record time. I had been hungry, and still was, I found. But my need to comfort him outweighed any bodily need. I'd almost lost him. I needed to touch him, to hold him, to protect him and keep him safe. And he needed me. I knew by the way he watched me as I moved around the apartment, by the way he insisted on staying on the sofa with me instead of goin' to bed, by the way he moved closer to me when I sat down again after getting up to take care of something. And when he looked up at me and smiled, and the realization washed over me that I had almost lost him, he hugged me tight and let me cry my tears in his neck until his shirt was soaking wet.

That night, I started sleeping in his room. I rented a rollaway bed and put it next to his, so I could hear him if he needed something in the night. He was failing so fast I was terrified that he'd die in his sleep. Or that he'd need something and be too weak to call out to me. He kidded me, told me that I was too big to be his teddy bear, but I knew he was glad.

He was okay as long as someone is with him. But he couldn't stand to be alone, anymore. What happened in the hospital scared him, too. He finally admitted during a late night conversation that his deepest fear was of dying alone. After he admitted that to me, I promised him I wouldn't let it happen. I hoped desperately that I wouldn't have to keep that promise.

I had called Dobey from New York and told him I was takin' an indefinite leave of absence. He said he already had the paperwork ready. All I needed to do was come in and sign it. I did that before I picked up the blond the day he came home from the hospital.

Hutch continued to worry about me, tryin' to make sure that I wasn't givin' up my life for him. He insisted that I get a break every day, and I finally agreed to do it, just for an hour or so. He called Edith Dobey himself, and she was glad to come over every day to sit with him while I was out. Sometimes, when he was havin' a bad day, I sat on the stairs, countin' the minutes until I could go back. Sometimes, when he was feelin' okay, I went outside and walked up and down the sidewalk. And on his real good days, few and far between as they were, I walked out to the beach and sat in the sun or walked in the sand until it was time to come back.

He kept tellin' me to get out, to see a movie or go down to Huggy's. I did a couple of times, when Edith or the captain could stay with him, but I was so worried about him I couldn't enjoy myself. I was afraid to be away from him for very long. I was afraid he'd be gone when I got back.

He was failin'; I knew it. The doctors knew it. And worst of all, he knew it. That's when we decided to ask the doc for stronger pain medicine. He needed it for a long time before he agreed to it, but he finally had to give in. The pain was just too bad.

The pain was worst at night. Sometimes it woke him up and it wasn't time for another pill yet. He insisted that we follow the schedule to the letter. He was so afraid of getting' addicted to the medicine. Even now, memories of the agony of his withdrawal from a forced heroin addiction haunted him. So while we waited for the appointed time to take more medicine, I cradled him, his head on my shoulder and rocked him, my face buried in his neck. I brushed the beads of sweat from his forehead, and rubbed my hand over the stubble that remained of his blond hair. (He'd had it cut off when it started falling out from the chemo.)

He just kept getting' weaker. None of the treatments or the medications was workin'. He needed more and stronger pain medicine, just to be able to hold on from day to day.

When I woke up that mornin', it took me a minute to realize that I'd overslept. Usually, Hutch is ready for his medication real early, and he wakes me up. But not this mornin'. I looked over at him and grinned, but the expression faded. He looked like he was asleep, and I could tell he was breathin'. But the breaths were far apart, kind of labored. I called to him, but he didn't respond. I tried again, then I tried yellin' and then I tried shakin' his shoulders, but nothin' worked. He wouldn't or couldn't wake up.

It took forever for the ambulance to get there, and even longer to get him to the hospital and into the Emergency Room. I was crazy by the time the doctor finally came into the waiting area. Dobey and Edith and Huggy were all there by then, trying to keep me from climbin' the walls. It wasn't workin'.

The doc knew what my first question would be. "He's alive. He's very weak, but he's still alive. His red blood count was very low and his electolytes were a little out of whack, but he's awake now. Dave I want you to go in with me. I need to talk to both of you."

He was lying very still, his chest was barely risin' and fallin'. He had IV tubes runnin' into both arms, givin' him blood and all that other stuff he needed to keep him alive.

I went to him and took his hand. His eyelashes fluttered and he finally got his eyes open and managed a smile for me. "Hey," I whispered.

"Hey," he said, closing his eyes again.

The doc cleared his throat. "Can you hear me, Ken?"

Hutch nodded, just a little movement of his head.

"Ken, I've looked at your bloodwork and the results of the other tests. I have to tell you that none of the conventional treatments can help you now. I'm afraid you don't have long if things stay as they are."

I stared at him, holdin' Hutch's hand to my chest. "What are you sayin', Doc?"

"There's an experimental treatment that we could try. I think it's the only hope Ken has, at this point. But it's very dangerous, and I really don’t know if Ken has the strength for it."

Hutch's eyes opened. He looked from me to the doctor, but he didn't say anything.

"Go on," I urged. I squeezed the hand I was holding between both of mine.

The doc was lookin' at me, not Hutch. "It's a very strong drug. It will make him sick, sicker than he's been before. He'll need everything he has to survive the treatment, but if he does he could go into remission." The doctor looked at him and smiled. "I'll leave you two alone to discuss it."

I pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down, still holdin' his hand. "Hutch?"

He was lookin' at me. I could see the fear in his eyes. I hated to see him go through any more torment. He'd been through so much and fought so hard. "What do you think, Hutch?"

He shook his head. "I…I don't know."

I put my free hand on top of his head and brushed my fingers over the blond stubble. "It's up to you, Hutch. Whatever you want to do. What ever you decide is okay, understand?"

He nodded. He knew I was tellin' him it was okay if he didn't want to go through any more treatments. He had tried so hard for so long. Maybe it was time for him to move on, to finally have some peace.

"It'll be okay. I'll be okay. I promise, Partner. Whatever you decide, I'll be okay."

He nodded again. "I don't want to die, Starsk. I

want to live. I want to stay here, with you and Huggy and

Dobey…"

"I know." I moved my hand down to stroke his

cheek."Just tell me what you want to do, Pal."

"I…want to go for it," he whispered.

I shook my head. "You just won't give up will you, Blintz?"

He smiled. "There's too much to lose if I do." His eyes were drifting closed, and the hand holding mine loosened it's grip. "Will you talk to the doctor for me?"

I nodded. "Sure. Just rest, Buddy. You're gonna need it."

He was so weak. I really don't think the doctor thought he'd survive. In fact, he looked kinda surprised when I told him that Hutch wanted to take the treatments. I wasn't surprised at all. Even though the doctor admitted that the odds weren't real good, Hutch wouldn't give up without fightin' with everything he had. He didn't give up when Vic Bellamy poisoned me, and he never gave up on me after the shooting in the police garage. I wasn't gonna give up on him either.

The doc didn't start Hutch's new treatment for a couple of days, but he kept him in the hospital while they tried to build up his strength for this last battle. It was hard. Hutch could hardly keep anything down, and he just wasn't hungry. But he tried, really tried to eat the food Huggy brought him so he'd get stronger. The hospital food just wasn't an option. I wouldn't feed it to my dog, much less someone who was really sick like Hutch was.

The doctor finally decided to begin the treatment just because he didn't think Hutch had very much time left. It really didn't matter what his condition was, the treatment was his only chance.

This new stuff was really rough on him, even rougher

than the doctor had expected. It made him violently ill, much worse than any of the previous treatments. He didn't have much in his stomach, so all he did was have very painful dry heaves, but the abdominal cramps and nausea taxed his weakened body beyond bearable limits.

All I could do was hold his hand and encourage him. The cramps finally eased, and his eyes started closin'. "Get some rest, Partner. I'll be here."

He shook his head, his blue eyes locked on my face. "Can't…please don't make me, Starsk."

I could see panic and fear in those eyes. "What is it, Babe?"

"I'm…I'm scared. Starsk, don't make me go to sleep. I'm afraid…"

I knew what he was afraid of. It was the fear I'd lived with since he went back into the hospital this time. I leaned over him, stroking his thin cheek with my hand, my other hand resting on top of his head. "I'll wake you, Hutch. When it's time, I'll wake you. Okay? I promise you, you'll wake up." I brushed my lips across his damp forehead. "I promise you, Blintz. I promise."

He nodded. "Okay." His eyes closed, but he reached for my hand and held it while he drifted into sleep. I sat down beside the bed, keeping my hand in his, and prayed that I hadn't lied to him, prayed that I would see those blue eyes looking at me at least once more.

That night seemed to last forever. Hutch just seemed to get weaker and weaker, his breaths farther and farther apart as the night wore on. I sat beside his bed, holding his hand, trying to encourage him as much as I could. People came and went, the doctor, nurses, Huggy and the Dobeys, but I didn't really notice. I was concentrating on Hutch's face and willing him to take another breath.

He had made me promise not to resuscitate him if his body failed. A big sign on the door announced "NO CODE" to let the medical personnel know that extraordinary life-saving measures weren't going to be allowed for my partner.

It was almost dawn when the doctor came in again. He checked the machines that were monitoring Hutch's condition and shook his head. He didn't say anything, but he brushed his fingers across Hutch's forehead in a farewell gesture and put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it for a long minute before he left the room.

That's when I knew there was nothing more I could do to make my partner well. Hutch was failin', in spite of everything, in spite of my love and and the love of all our friends, and his own determination.

So I did the only thing that was left to me, the last thing I could do for him. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed and carefully pulled his frail body into my arms, mindful of the IV's and cables that imprisoned him. I held his head to my shoulder and rocked, humming softly or crooning to him that everything was okay, that I loved him and he was safe. I couldn't even tell if he was still breathin', but I held on. I wasn't about to let him go until I had to.

I don't know how long I held him. A nurse came into the room and looked at the monitors. I heard her gasp, and she was gone, running toward the nurse's station.

"No, not yet," I pleaded silently. "Not yet."

"Dave. Dave you need to put him down," the doctor said into my ear.

"No. I…I can't."

"Dave, it's okay. He's still with us. I just need to examine him."

I let the Blintz go, reluctantly and eased his limp body back onto the bed. But I wasn't gonna leave him. I stayed on the bed, holding Hutch's hand and silently daring the doctor to tell me to move.

But he didn't. He looked at the monitors, comparing the reading to the ones logged on Hutch's chart. Then he went around to the opposite side of the bed from where I sat and checked Hutch's vital signs. When he completed the examination he looked at me and smiled. "He's turned the corner, Dave. I'll order more blood work to be sure, but I really think he's going to make it. He'll have to take more treatments, but the worst is over."

Later that day I saw the most beautiful sight I've ever seen, Hutch's blue eyes opening and smiling into mine.

"How you feeling, Babe?" I asked.

"Better," he told me in a hoarse voice. "Better, Starsk."

I guess I was tired. That's the only thing I can think of that explains it. He was laying there looking at me, smiling a weak version of that smile I loved, the smile I hadn't seen in too long. And I lost it. I just lost it. Suddenly I was cryin', and I just couldn't stop. And when he raised his hands and pulled me onto his chest, he wrapped his arms around me and just held me while I cried into his neck. Slowly I began to realize that he was whispering to me, "It's okay, Gordo. Everything's okay. Sh! It's okay."

* * * * * *

I guess I should apologize, 'cause I may have mislead ya. Thinkin' back over what I told ya, you could get the impression that it was just me and Hutch through all that time he was sick, and it ain't true.

Sure we were there for each other, but, we have some good friends and they all stood by us through that whole ordeal. Captain Dobey and his wife, Edith, and Huggy were always there when we needed them. And James, my temporary partner, was supportive throughout Hutch's illness. And there were others, other policemen who helped us out.

And of course the doctors and nurses who took care of him. He wouldn't be here without them, either.

(Now I'm soundin' like one of those guys who gets an Academy Award and stands there namin' all the "little people" who made the award possible.)

I just didn't want ya to get the wrong idea. It wasn't just me and him although that was a big part of it. But I may not have been as clear as I should be, especially about Hutch's parents. They love him, I guess, in their own way. Sure, I was ticked off when he decided to go home and they said they'd find a hospital or a nursing home where he could stay. Hutch told me that they just aren't good at being around sick people. (Of course that made me wonder how he turned out to be such a mother hen, but I guess I'll never know.)

Anyway, his parents did what they could. They called every week, and then almost every day when he got really bad. They always asked how he was, and actually told him they loved him a couple of times. I guess they're better at giving things than they are at giving love. It seems like it anyhow, 'cause they arranged for Hutch and me to spend some time in the mountains after he got well enough to travel. Not just anywhere in the mountains, either. We spent a month in a chalet at Lake Tahoe.

And Dobey came through again, letting me take leave for all that time. 'Course, some of it is without pay, but that's okay. There was no way I was lettin' Hutch go anywhere without me, not for a while, not for a long while.

Anyway, the time on Lake Tahoe was great. I have to confess that I needed it almost as much as Blondie did. I hadn't realized how tired I was.

Lake Tahoe is really beautiful. Hutch has really enjoyed the peace and solitude. He always feels better when he spends time away from the city.

And, I felt better just watchin' Hutch get stronger every day, seeing the color come back into his cheeks and seein' his blond hair growin' again. He's still way too thin, but he's getting well.

Of course, the doctors have warned us. Hutch is in full remission, but the leukemia could still come back. Hutch isn't letting that hang over his head though. He's determined to get back to a normal life and live it to the fullest.

I'm moving back into my apartment when we go home, which scares me to death. He'll be alone. It'll take awhile for me to quit worrying about him. In fact it may never happen. It was all too close, too scary. I'll probably go berserk the first time he gets a cold or somethin'. But I know if the leukemia does come back, we'll deal with it, just like we deal with everything. Hutch and me against the world, if necessary.

We go back to work next week. Dobey already talked to the doctor, and it'll be several weeks before we can get back to the streets. Hutch is doing great, but it'll be a long haul before he's back to full strength. Even though we'll be riding a desk for awhile, we'll be back doing our jobs. Together. Just what partners are meant to do.

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