Going Down
By Otterlady (03/21/2000)
******
He was sick. Oh Lord was he sick. Hanging onto the edge
of the toilet, trying not to fall face first into it, Starsky knew he was
in trouble.
He'd come home that night, hungry but too tired to cook anything from scratch. Rooting around in his fridge, he found some Chinese stir fry that wasn't more than two days old. He remembered Hutch bringing it over just the night before last and it'd been fresh then. Contrary to what his partner thought, he was very careful about leftover food. If it was in that fridge for longer than four days it went in the garbage, no matter how good it might look. It was Hutch's fridge he was scared to eat out of. Sometimes that green stuff he'd find wasn't the nice healthy color of a fresh veggie.
Happy to find something edible, even if it was mostly mushrooms,
Starsky plopped it in a saucepan. Hutch had brought over so much
that they hadn't even touched this carton so there was more than enough
for his dinner. He left it to heat while he went for his shower and
to get into something more comfortable than the skintight jeans he'd been
wearing. The food was
nicely warm when he returned a few minutes later and he ate it all.
Washed up the dishes. Sorted out his dirty clothes, trying to decide
if he could get at least one more wearing out of his favorite shirt before
his partner started to make remarks. Generally just puttered around
the apartment headed in the general direction of bed. He'd been trying
to decide if he wanted to watch tv or not when the first pain hit.
Starsky found himself doubled over on the floor, stomach hurting as if he'd just taken a bullet. Gasping for air, he rode out the pain, waiting for the room to stop spinning. When everything finally returned to its rightful place, he got to his feet. Thinking that maybe it had only been a gas pain; he was heading to the bathroom for a seltzer when the next spasm hit.
Once again, he was on his knees, hanging on to his midsection, trying not to scream against the strength of the fire in his gut. This time it didn't let up as quickly, rolling over him in crushing waves that left him weak and panting on the floor. And knowing if he didn't get into that bathroom in the next few minutes, he was going to have a really disgusting mess to clean up.
Shaking with the tremors of reaction and with the pounding of his heart,
Starsky lay against the cold porcelain and tried to think. He needed
to get help, but didn't know if he could make it to the phone. His
body was almost limp from the repeated vomiting and cramps. His mind
was numb, from both the pain and an encroaching feeling of terror.
And the thought of the
last time he had experienced shattering pain like this haunted him.
The time of Bellamy and the Professor.
Starsky couldn't seem to get by the fact that Hutch wasn't home. He'd gone on a date and Starsky had no idea where he was at that minute. Starsky couldn't remember Huggy's number or the number for the precinct. All he could seem to concentrate on was the pain in his middle and the fact that he was going to die. Die on this cold floor. All alone. And maybe that scared him worse than the fear of dying did.
If he could just make it to the bedroom, to the phone by the bed, maybe
he could get through to someone. He'd worry about that when he got
there. If he got there. The vomiting had stopped, at least
for the moment. He didn't think he had anything left anyway.
The last couple of times had been dry heaves more than anything else.
Starsky managed to get to his hands and knees, the effort leaving him
sweating. Inch by torturous inch, he crawled towards the bedroom.
He made it as far as the bedroom door when the next wave of cramps and
nausea struck, flattening him to the floor. He must have passed out
for a few minutes because the next thing he was aware of was of someone
holding his
head and a scared sounding voice saying his name.
Somehow, Hutch was there.
"Starsk, buddy? You in there? Wake up for me partner." Hutch kept up the stream of soothing nonsense, rubbing Starsky's back.
His throat raw, his chest hurting, Starsky tried to respond to the plea in his partner's voice, " Hu...Hutch. Oh Hutch." His stomach cramped again forcing him to double up in agony, but Hutch held on, his hand warm against Starsky's back.
"Shh, hang on Starsk. There's an ambulance on the way. Just hang on." Hutch's voice faded away as Starsky struggled to breathe.
*******
Awareness came in bits and pieces. The first bit was that of pain in his stomach. And the inability to swallow past something in his throat. But it wasn't enough to get worried about, not then. He drifted for awhile, his head hurting, his stomach a slow burning pain, but not really registering any of it. The next thing that intruded on his lethargy was the slow beeping of machinery and cold. He was cold. No, he was past cold. His entire body felt as if it had turned to ice and he didn't have the strength to deal with it. So he gave himself over to it.
A long time later, he had no real sense of time but it felt late, he drifted up from that cold dark place he'd been hiding and realized he needed something. Was missing something. Before...before the cold had taken over there had been warmth. The warmth of a hand on his back and a voice in his ear. But now both of them were gone and he missed them. Badly.
He must have moved or made a sound for a hand suddenly clasped his.
"It's okay, Starsk. It's okay. You're going to be fine. Just rest now."
Hutch's voice was soft and soothing in the darkness behind his eyes. The hand in his radiated warmth. Warmth that spread from his hand up his arm until his whole body felt it. Warmth that banished the cold that fear had left behind. Starsky opened his eyes. And there was his partner bending over him, eyes sad for his pain but joyful at his wakening. Starsky tried to speak but choked against something in his throat.
"Shh, Starsk. Don't try and talk. They've put a tube down your throat. Just relax." Starsky watched as Hutch stood up and turned away from him. Almost immediately there was a nurse there doing something to one of the bags hanging from the pole that he saw beside his bed.
Hospital then. It was okay. He was safe. The doctors and nurses would fix whatever was wrong and Hutch was with him, still holding his hand. How could he be safer than that? Whatever the nurse had done was causing him to drift off again but this time it was okay to give in to it. Hutch was here to protect him and keep him warm.
*****
Later he woke. How much later he had no way of telling except
that there was fading sunlight on the other side of the window blinds and
someone had turned off most of the lights in the room. Starsky lay
staring up at the ceiling trying to make sense of where he was and how
he was feeling. A faint movement to one side made him realize he
wasn't alone in the dim room. Turning his head was difficult, his
neck felt as if someone had tried to wrench it off, but he succeeded in
moving it far enough to see his partner. Hutch was slumped in a chair
beside his bed sleeping. Starsky couldn't help but smile to
himself at the way he looked. Golden hair hanging across his forehead,
mouth slightly open, Hutch looked young and innocent. Like a child
sleeping there instead of his seasoned partner. Then he shifted and
the child disappeared, replaced by a very worried
looking adult.
Hutch smiled reassuringly at him and rose from the chair to take hold of his hand again. "Hey buddy. Glad to see you're back. How're you feeling?" Each word calm and sure so unlike the worried blue eyes observing him.
Starsky squeezed the hand holding his and essayed a smile of his own. Without much success. He tried to speak but his throat felt raw and he started coughing instead. Hutch immediately lifted him up a little so he could breathe more easily. "It's okay Starsk. You're going to be okay."
The coughing eased but the pain in his throat remained. He lay limp against Hutch's arm trying to relax, to breathe. Hutch eased him back against the pillows and gently brushed back the hair that lay damply across his forehead. Hand still on Starsky's head, Hutch smiled down at him.
"I guess you want to know what's going on, huh buddy?" At Starsky's weak nod, Hutch continued. "You remember the other night when I went to the China Gardens to pick up the take-out? Well, one of the cooks there is Alfred Soon." Hutch waited to see if Starsky remembered the name.
Starsky's mind was tired and it took a couple of minutes for him to
place the name but when he did, he looked at his partner in dismay.
The two of them had arrested Alfred Soon a few years before when his wife
and several of his relatives became severely ill and three of them died.
Including Soon's wife. From poisoning. But they could never
prove that he had done
it on purpose as the poison came in the form of mushrooms.
"He...he poisoned our food?" Starsky's rough voice was just above a whisper. "You okay?" Worry for his partner forced him to make the effort to speak.
Hutch rubbed Starsky's arm. "Yeah. I'm fine. I didn't get any of the poison. When I phoned in the order for the dinner, Soon was the one who packed it. He's been working at the Gardens for a month or so and found out we often get food from there so he just bided his time until we ordered again. He only doctored one carton."
If Starsky hadn't been feeling so weak, he would have laughed at the irony of it all. "How'd you find out?" He whispered.
Hutch sighed and looked down at their two hands laying grasped on Starsky's
chest. "Last night after the movie, Sandy and I went for dinner.
The Gardens was close and it's always good so we went there. Soon
was putting food out on the buffet table when he spotted me. You
should have seen the look on his face." Hutch's grin was strained
but it was a grin. Starsky
couldn't help but grin back. Petting Starsky's head again, Hutch
continued. "He started throwing things at poor Sandy and me yelling
in Chinese the whole time. It took three waiters, a couple of busboys
and me to wrestle the guy to the floor. And it took quite a while
before we figured out what he was going on about." Hutch sighed again.
Starsky shifted so he could see Hutch's face better. "Tell me Hutch." He was pleased that his voice seemed to be getting stronger. "How come he poisoned us?" He squeezed the hand in his.
Hutch paled, even more than he already was, and looked into Starsky's eyes. Starsky could see the pain and fear in those blue eyes and it scared him a little. It was all over now. Wasn't it?
"Not us, Starsk. You. He poisoned you. Soon blamed
us for all the time he spent in jail and the problems he's had ever since.
A lot of his family disowned him because of his wife's death and he's had
trouble keeping a job on top of everything else. It ate away at him
until he convinced himself that the only way his life would turn around
was if he killed us. This
job at the restaurant was the perfect opportunity for him and he took
it. It was only pure dumb luck that he didn't put the stuff into
all of our food and not just the stir-fry."
Hutch reached back and pulled the chair closer so he could sit down. Still hanging onto Starsky's hand as if he was afraid to let go Hutch was quiet for a space. If Starsky could have moved his other arm, he would have tried to hug his partner. For the first time, Starsky looked at all of the machinery clustered around him. And the sight of all the hardware and tubes frightened him all over again. Just how bad was this?
"Hutch?" The blond head turned towards him. "What did he
use?" How bad was this? Am I goin' to make it? Starsky
was too afraid to ask the really important questions.
"He used mushrooms again." Hutch ran his free hand through his
blond hair leaving it sticking out every-which-way. If Starsky hadn't
seen the look in his partner's eyes, he might have teased him about it.
But at that moment, he was too scared. Hutch reached up and laid
his hand on Starsky's cheek. "The kind he put in the food are called
False Morel. According to the doctor they're extremely toxic
and are often fatal."
Mouthing the word 'fatal' Starsky felt the cold reaching for his bones again. He hung onto Hutch's hand as if it were the only thing that would save him.
"If you hadn't have gotten so sick so fast Starsk, you'd be in a lot worse shape about now. As it is you're going to be in here for a while so they can monitor your liver and kidney functions." Hutch swallowed, staring at Starsky's frightened face. It took him a minute to continue. "You were having convulsions when I found you, that's one reason you're so sore. The tube down your throat was so they could do a gastric lavage and give you activated charcoal and cathartics."
Starsky tried to take in what they had done to him. "They pumped my stomach? You wouldn't think there'd be anything left after all the throwing up I did." He tried to make a joke of it but failed miserably by the look on Hutch's face.
"They weren't taking any chances. You'd eaten a lot of those mushrooms.
At least from what Soon told us he'd put in. At that level -if you
hadn't have thrown up - by the time I found you, you could have been...."
Hutch's voice failed him and he turned his head away. Starsky's attempt
to reach for him by moving the hand attached to all the IV tubes alerted
him. Hutch
grasped Starsky's arm gently and held it in place. "Don't move
that arm around, Starsk. You could pull your IVs out and that'd hurt."
"How long have I got to stay here?" Worry colored his voice. Worry for himself and for his partner.
"A few days anyway. Until the toxins in your system are gone and they're sure there's been no damage." Hutch's face crumbled, his brave demeanor gone. For a moment, Starsky thought the man was going to cry. Swallowing hard, Hutch continued. "Oh God, Starsky. If Sandy and I hadn't gone to that restaurant last night, if Soon hadn't seen us and went berserk, you'd be dead right now." He let go of Starsky's hand and laid it on his partner's stomach. Resting his forehead on the edge of the bed, he sat trembling.
Starsky wrapped his freed hand around Hutch's shoulders and rubbed the side of his jaw. "It's okay Hutch. You found me in time. I'll be okay, you'll see. It takes more than a little mushroom to take out David Starsky. I'll be up in no time." He continued rubbing the tense jaw and saying reassuring words until Hutch sat up in the chair.
Rubbing his hands across his face, Hutch stared at Starsky. His
voice sounded thick when he finally spoke. "I called your place from
the restaurant as soon as I knew what Soon had done. I was so scared
when you didn't answer. I knew, just knew that you'd eaten that stuff
and you were laying on the floor somewhere. Dying...or dead already."
He looked up
at the ceiling. "I've never driven so fast or prayed so hard
as I did on the way to your place. When I found you on the floor
and you were so sick - oh God, Starsk - I thought I was going to lose you
right there."
Starsky reached out and grabbed Hutch's sleeve. "Stop beating yourself up Hutch. You got to me in time, I ain't dead, and I ain't got any plans of dying for a long time. So just stop all of that. 'kay?" He looked at Hutch as sternly as he could in his condition.
Hutch stared at him for a minute then smiled. "Okay. I'll stop 'beating myself up'. But allow me to be a little grateful for the way things turned out, will you?"
Smiling back, Starsky released the grip on Hutch's jacket and moved his hand down the arm until he found Hutch's. "Sure. As long as you let me be grateful too for both your driving and your praying." A yawn interrupted him.
"Close your eyes, Starsk. Get some sleep. The nurse will be along in a while to give you another sedative anyway so you might as well beat her to it." Hutch pulled his partner's blanket up a bit until it was just under his chin.
Sleepily Starsky closed his eyes. "Sounds like a good idea." He squeezed Hutch's hand. "Just promise me you won't go anywhere. It's too cold without you here." His words slurred as he drifted off into sleep not hearing his partner's reply.
"Don't worry buddy. I'm not going anywhere."
******
By the end of the week, the hospital released Starsky with a clean bill of health. The doctors let him go with some pills and a few words of warning to come back if he felt at all unwell. Even though Starsky reassured everyone he was feeling a hundred percent, Hutch slept on his couch for the next few nights. Until Starsky laughingly booted him out and told him to take his mother hen act elsewhere. That's when Hutch knew his partner was well again.
Two weeks after that the partners and their dates - Hutch's Sandy and Starsky's new girlfriend, Patty, a nurse from the hospital - were sitting down to dinner at the China Gardens paid for by the management. Mrs. Chun, the owner, was scandalized that one of her employees had tried to kill two of her best customers. She had insisted that they be served the best of everything and by her most senior and trusted staff.
At first Starsky was a bit nervous eating at the Gardens but knowing that Soon was in jail - to stay for a while this time - he realized he was being silly. And besides, he loved Chinese food and the Gardens was one of the best places in LA.
The group was toasting Starsky's health when the first platters arrived at the table. Mrs. Chun herself spooned the food onto Starsky's plate, fussing over him as if he was one of her own children. Better actually, as she turned and spoke sharply to one of her sons who was acting as waiter that night. The partners were used to the Chuns' loud arguing in Chinese and paid no mind. Not until Starsky noticed what the abashed young man was carrying.
Gulping, Starsky reached for his wineglass and stared at Hutch over the rim. Hutch looked quizzically at him until he followed the gestures Starsky was making with his eyes. And started to laugh.
There on the table sat a platter of dim sum. Surrounded by seafood stuffed mushrooms.
Starsky thumped his wineglass down on the table and glared at his giggling partner. "Hutch, it's not funny! I never want to see a mushroom again as long as I live. Never."
Hutch couldn't stop laughing. "I'm sorry Starsky. But you should see the look on your face." By now the girls were laughing too, although they weren't really sure why.
And Mrs. Chun and her sons were all slightly scandalized again by the small but furious food fight that insured. Of which the mushrooms were the first ammunition.
******
Author's note part two: False Morels are indeed very toxic. However,
I changed some of the symptoms and the time of reaction to the toxins for
the story's sake. If you'd like to learn more about this mushroom
and the treatments that I mentioned may I suggest the following book: "Common
Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms of North America" published by Timber Press.
If you need more information on this book, please don't hesitate to contact
me. You never know when you might need to get rid of an annoying
relative or neighbour. *******