December 6th- My Partner by Shell007

Starsky:

Hands washed, water thrown over my face and changed into scrubs all within seconds. I know it’s not quite what Dobey meant when he ordered me to ‘go get cleaned up and changed’. But there was no way I was leaving Hutch. After all, there was a perfectly good hand sink in the room and I did as ordered. In a manner of speaking.

My hand went back to where it belonged, resting on his right hand. My right hand man.

Why did he step out and shout? He was safe until he did that! The bullet hit him straight in the chest as the shooter turned. That bullet had been meant for me. If only he hadn’t…

It should be me lying there. Hell, I’d rather it be me. God, he’s so pale and so still.

My thumb aimlessly strokes the back of his right hand; I’m oblivious to Dobey and the doctor still in the room. It’s so comforting just to feel the warmth returning in his hand. He wouldn’t understand how much a single touch can mean to me, let alone a touch when he’s not even conscious.

My right hand man, best friend, and partner. There’s no word adequate to relay what he means to me. My right hand man who ribs me about being a lefty. But with him being right handed, it’s just perfect…why wouldn’t it be?

We’re not so different, apart from our taste in cars but even Hutch can’t be perfect. I mean, we both like to read. The choice of what we read may differ; he likes a good book to get into. Me, I’m happy reading interest facts and snippets.

I read the other day that it’s a respected and rewarding position to be someone’s right hand man. But having Hutch as my right hand man, I get the rewards. A person’s right hand man is a highly trusted advisor who’s always close by. Hutch is definitely that!

Without Hutch, I wouldn’t be here. I’ll never forget how he put it all together, in just 24 hours, when I was poisoned. He refused to give up, even when it seemed too late. Trust Hutch to do the impossible. He was there for me when I lost Terry and I couldn’t see a way forward. There’s so many times that I’ve relied on my right hand man…my Hutch.

Now he’s lying there attached to machines and looking like death warmed over. And why? Because he took a bullet meant for me. Damn him, he had no right. He could have got himself killed! I love him too much for him to take a bullet for me. It’s my fault he was shot. I need him to wake up. It’s my fault he’s lying there, Yes I love him. What’s not to love?

I need to tell him what he really means to me, how much I love him…I love him?!

I feel his hand twitch underneath mine and see the first flicker of movement under his eyelids. I’ve never needed to see those baby blue eyes of his as much as I do now.

Dobey:

I watch as Starsky hastily returns to his Hutch’s side, not that he ever really left him. One of my boys is unconscious, recovering from being shot. The other riddled with pain as he watches and waits for his partner to wake. It’s always the same with these two, if one is hurt the other always blames himself for not protecting their partner. But I’ve seen them in action and they are relentless in protecting each other, to the point of risking their own safety. The doctors told us Hutch needs rest to recover now but seeing is believing when your partner’s injured.

How on earth did these two men get so under my skin? Starsky and Hutch…Yin and Yang. That interchangeable partnership, when one weakens it affects the other. They’re like two components working together. One is energy, cold and dark. The other is energy, hot and cold. Their duality opposing, yet complementing as they rely on one another. Yin dark like the night and Yang blond like the sun. Ironically they once had undercover names of ‘K’night and Day; perhaps that was fate. Perhaps that’s what protected them against the Voodoo man Papa Theodore. Even he couldn’t get them to obey him. No surprise there!

But I’m forever grateful that my boys came back to me safe and sound.

Hutch:

I can feel his hand. That familiar weight as his thumb stokes the back of my hand, which tells me so much.

He’s always to the right of me when I wake in hospital. It’s instinctive and natural, it means his left hand falls in place on my right. His touch comforting me as I come to or relaxing me into sleep. He wouldn’t understand how much that touch can mean to me, let alone a touch he doesn’t know I can feel. But I do feel it, the comfort and his concern.

My left handed partner. They say left handed people are more intelligent and he’s more intelligent than he’s given credit for. His intelligence is not just academic. No, far from it. Some things just can’t be taught: trust, loyalty, and faith. He has a natural intelligence to know who to trust, who to be loyal to, when and what to have faith in. Intelligence that few have or will ever be able to attain.

My partner…we’re not so different, apart from our taste in food but even Starsky can’t be perfect. We both like to read, I read a bit of his book the other night. It said the term ‘leftie’ comes from an old English word meaning direct and straight. As a cop, he’s as straight as they come. He even hated going undercover as a disgruntled cop to stop a group of vigilante cops.

Without Starsky, I wouldn’t be here. I’d never have got through what Forrest did to me. Would have never of survived the plague. No one else could have got Callendar to come in and help others. Trust Starsky to do the impossible. He got me through losing Gillian. He almost signed his own death warrant the time he shot Bellamy to protect me. Damn him, he had no right to put my safety before his. There’s so many times that I’ve relied on my partner…my Starsky.

I need to tell him what he really means to me…how much I love him. Yes, I love him. What’s not to love? I love him…love him?!

I manage to move my right hand, just a twitch under his but it’s enough. I have never needed to see his deep blue eyes as much as I do now. I hear the softness in his voice, as I struggle to open my eyes to see him.

Starsky:

He’s coming around. I felt a slight movement from his hand and his face is twitching. His eyes gradually open; they’re not yet focused.

“Take it easy, easy Blondie.” He’s trying to move his hand to clasp mine. “Try not to move.”

His face is softening as his eyes focus. I see his eyes and I know it’s going to be okay. I’ve never loved those eyes as much as I do right now.

I gently push his silky hair away from his face; the touch feels new and exciting like I’ve never touched him before. He looks up and I see the most beautiful expression in his deep tender blue eyes. I thought I knew all his expressions. This is a new beautiful expression that I’ve never seen before.

When did things change? When did a touch, a look start to mean so much?

Hutch:

I feel the comfort from his hand warming me, the gentlest touch from my tough partner. I hear his soothing voice as I gradually open my eyes. Even as a blurred vision, he’s a sight to be seen. My eyes begin to focus and I’m able to check he’s okay. I have never loved those eyes as much as I do right now.

I feel his hand brush my face; the touch feels new and exciting, like I’ve never been touch by him before. I look up and I see the most beautiful expression in those deep tender blue eyes of his. I thought I knew all his expressions. This is a new beautiful expression that I’ve never seen before.

When did things change? When did a touch, a look start to mean so much?

Starsky:

I need to tell him how I feel.

I need to know if he feels the same.

But as I look in his eyes, they answer me and we both know.

The ‘Me and Thee’ instantly became ‘Me loves Thee.’