A bouquet of roses and lots of thanks to Solo and SHaron for all their help scanning and proofing these classic stories of Constance Collins! This story originally appeared in the zine Lifeline -- a Decade Starsky & Hutch.
Comments about this story can be sent to: VenicePlaceAngel@aol.com
Don't Cry Down My Back, Baby, You Might Rust
My Spurs
by
Constance Collins
"Starsky, get down!"
Pain tore through him, he couldn't breathe-
"Starsky! Starsky!"
It filtered into his mind; he wanted to answer, wanted to move....
***
"Code Blue! Station One! Code Blue! Station One!"
Starsky could see the nurse leaning over his body, trying to see if he was still breathing, and he thought in a vague sort of way that he should be more concerned but the hospital room was fading away, and he was alone, with no recognizable surroundings, totally disoriented. If he'd been watching his body, where was he now? The thought was disturbing.
"Whadya got?"
Questions floated through his mind: where was he? Where was Hutch?
"Cardiac arrest."
Peacefulness washed over him, he was drowning in a sense of serenity. "... Dad?" It was an awareness, more than anything, that his father was with him. "Where am I?"
"Doctor, there are no vital signs. We lost him."
"Waiting," came the reply. It was his father.
"What happened? Where am I? Where's Hutch?" Tranquility enveloped him, but something was tearing at his heart -- or whatever the equivalent of his heart was, having no body to speak of.
"Excuse me, Captain Dobey, it's Detective Hutchinson on the phone."
"You were shot."
God, that hurt. Why did it hurt when he said that? "Where's Hutch?"
"Waiting."
Ice covered his soul. "He was shot --"
"Let's cut the bandages."
"Waiting for you. Waiting for your decision." The words were aloof, but the love surrounding him certainly wasn't.
"What am I waiting for? Am I dead?"
"Continue pressure."
"You have to decide if you're going to stay here or go back."
"Ok, I'm gonna hit him one more time. Stand clear."
Stay here with his father, or go back to Hutch? How could he make that choice?
"Repeat the pressure."
"I can't leave him," Starsky said finally, sure his heart was breaking. "I love you, but I can't leave him."
"One more time."
"Then go back." No reproach, no rebuke, just that same feeling of fatherly love he remembered from being carried off to bed in his father's arms, but reaching clear into his soul. He wanted to stay in that paternal embrace...but how could he leave Hutch?
"Stand clear."
"I have to go --" Oh, God, it hurt-
"I know you do." The love and pride embraced him for a moment, then it was gone.
"OK We've got him back."
***
Hutch sat next to Starsky's hospital bed, his thoughts sluggishly circling in his brain. He couldn't think, and he couldn't stop thinking. He found himself muttering half to Starsky, half to himself. "I don't know what to do, Starsk. I'm pushin' the odds. I don't know what to do. I mean, what if -- what if --
"Oh, man, what'm I talkin' about? What'm I talkin' about?
"Starsky...Starsky."
Starsky heard Hutch's voice and opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy, but he could make Hutch out easily. Starsky nodded to show he was listening.
"He -- you're awake. He's -- he's -- he's -- he's awake, he's awake! Uh -- uh, nurse, nurse, he's nurse, he's awake, he's awake, he's okay, he's awake, he's okay, he's awake!"
Through the thick filter of pain medication, Starsky was amused. Whatever Hutch was so thrilled about, it was good to see him so happy ...
***
"Do you remember me telling you about the house I grew up in?" Hutch asked. They were sitting on the porch of Dobey's cabin. "It had a bay window in front, and a tree growing out of the highest part of the roof."
"Sounds beautiful. And you grew up there?"
"Uh-huh. "
"Was it nice? I mean, with the tree and everything?"
"Yeah, it was great. You'd really have liked it. Maybe I'll take you there one day."
"Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like to meet your folks."
Hutch smiled, the way he always did when Starsky mentioned meeting his parents. Starsky could never quite figure out what that smile meant.
***
The next time Starsky opened his eyes, Hutch was outside the window of his room, flapping a huge pair of white wings at him. He looked really enthusiastic about something, and Starsky wondered if he'd just realized he could fly.
"Officer Hutchinson!"
Starsky didn't recognize the woman. Maybe this was Hutch's mother.
"Please, later, sweetheart, this is really important." Hutch was in the room now, and Starsky could hear the paper wings rattling. Could he fly on paper wings? Starsky wanted to ask him, but this lady kept interfering. And Hutch wasn't quiet long enough to get a word in edgewise.
"For his health, I must insist --"
Hutch waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, later, sweetheart. Listen, listen --"
Oh, Hutch was talking to him.
"A man with a cardiac arrest needs rest --"
"You're not going to believe this," Hutch continued. "You know all that information --"
What was this all about? Something to do with the white paper wings. Maybe they were going to soar away from all this. God, wouldn't that be something? Just take off like birds. They could even live in trees. It would be terrific.
" -- wait'll you hear this --"
"If you don't leave right now, I'm going to call hospital security, do you hear me?" The lady was becoming a bit shrill.
"Good idea, call them, that's a good idea. Gunther Industries, fourth largest holding company in the United States, holding, among others, Gunther Petroleum, Texas Shorthorn Cattle Company --"
Cows? They could be cowboys, if that's what Hutch wanted to do. Except Starsky wasn't really sure he wanted to make his living on a horse. Wasn't at all sure he trusted them. They had sneaky eyes ... no, wait, that was lizards with the sneaky eyes. Horses were okay. They'd just bite you, or step on your feet. Sure, they could be cowboys. That'd be fine.
"Wait -- wait a second, here it is --"
"Sergeant, please get out of here right now!"
Who was this nosy, pushy woman? Even if it was Hutch's mother, Starsky wished she'd leave.
"Western Electronics --"
Yeah, western. 'Cept they were already in California. They'd really have to go east. Either that or ride seahorses.
" -- and catch this, Gunther Properties, owning and managing one condominium of one Jenny Brown --"
"Sergeant, please, get out of here right now!"
"Listen, here, Welles, Cary, Hodgeson law firm that bailed out Miss Jenny Brown, and legal consultant to --"
Lawyers? We couldn't be lawyers, Hutch. They don't ride horses, they don't have wings....
" -- thirteen subsidiaries of Gunther Industries --"
"All right, all right, that's it, that's it --" Finally, she left.
"What? Well, anyway, listen to this." Hutch sat down near him, crumpling his wings all up. "The late federal Judge McClellan served on the board of directors of three -- count one, two, three -- Gunther-owned --"
As he drifted off, Starsky wondered, Who's Gunther?
Seconds later, the nurse returned with Dobey. "Captain, will you please tell your man to--"
"And, and --" Hutch had lost his place.
"Hutch --"
"Wait a second, Captain."
"Hutch."
Hutch finally noticed that Starsky was asleep. "Oh."
Now that Dobey had Hutch's attention, he went on. "Listen, your flight to San Francisco--"
Hutch shushed him, and they started out of the room.
"Your flight to San Francisco leaves in --"
Again Hutch shushed him, looking at Starsky.
More quietly still, Dobey repeated, "Your flight to San Francisco leaves in thirty minutes. You gotta get started."
"When he wakes up, you'll read him the rest of this?" Hutch handed Dobey the mess of print-outs.
"Yes, yes," Dobey assured him patronizingly.
Contented, Starsky slept, dreaming of cowboys.