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Do you know what it's like to have your body betray you? To have half of yourself be completely foreign? It didn't hit me at first. My drug-filled brain couldn't focus on much of anything in the beginning. I had brief memories of my partner. Hutch's voice soothing me, begging me to wake up. Hutch's face, tear-stained and filled with pain and relief. Hutch's body tense and pacing around the room. I didn't understand why I was there, didn't really understand where here was, but I knew I was safe because Hutch was there.
But slowly my awareness grew and the pain did, too. My chest, my head, my back. I was conscious of everything that hurt, but even more conscious of what didn't. I couldn't feel the sheets pulled tight across my feet. I couldn't feel Hutch's hand, laid in exhaustion on my leg. I couldn't feel what I was supposed to feel. It was as if someone had dropped me in quicksand and I was sinking deeper and deeper.
The doctors wouldn't give me hope. They tried to focus on the other injuries, how I'd come back from the dead and was progressing remarkably well considering how much my body had withstood. But I wasn't interested in how miraculous everything else seemed; I was more focused on where the miracles hadn't happened. I wanted to know why I wasn't whole, why I wasn't able to feel. Two of the bullets had traveled close to my spine, causing damage. Swelling, nerve damage, bone fragments. All the words went through my head, but I couldn't accept them. The doctors would play the game, saying that the body's healing process takes time and that we'd see where we were in a few weeks. It was up to Hutch to carry the optimism, to assure me that the situation was only temporary and that I'd be fine again.
"Stop," I said, stilling his hand with my own.
He looked up from the book he was reading, eyes questioning. "I didn't wanna disturb you."
"Not the book, the hand."
He looked down to where our hands were joined now. It took him a minute to realize, then he drew his hand out of our embrace and looked embarrassed. He had been unconsciously rubbing my leg as he read. It was a comforting gesture, one that used to calm my nerves when I was scared. Except, now, it did nothing. He could have been rubbing someone else's leg, giving someone else the comfort meant for me, because I couldn't feel anything.
"It's not always gonna be like this, Starsk. Soon you'll start getting better."
"But what if I don't, Hutch?" I asked him, my eyes sad at the thought. "What if this is forever? What if I'm never whole again?"
He reached to grab my hand, bringing it to his lips. "We're gonna make it. I promise you, we're gonna make it."
And wasn't it ironic that only a few weeks before we had discovered our love for one another? Now we were faced with the knowledge that I couldn't do what needed to be done to prove it. Hutch said it didn't matter, that all that was important was that I was alive and safe and that we were no longer blind to our feelings. He said that he'd never leave me, that he'd stick with me no matter what the future held. But how long could I ask him to make that sacrifice? He was willing to give up everything, his life, his future, and his whole sense of self for a man who no longer existed. That man, the man he fell in love with, could chase down a suspect, drive like crazy, and protect his partner with his very life. He could be a partner in every sense of the word. But not now. Now that man was gone and in his place lay a burden, saddled upon a person that never asked for it, but would take it willingly. That's just how Hutch is, always giving and asking for nothing in return. But how long until a person gets tired of always giving and never receiving? He said it didn't matter, but how could it not?
"I can't feel anything, Hutch," I whispered to him as I lay in his arms.
He stroked my face and kissed me. "I'm right here."
"What if..."
"Shhh, don't think about it," he tried to calm me. "You're still with me and that's all that matters."
"But I'm not the same."
"You're still you."
The dreams were the worst. The dreams that fooled me into thinking that I was whole again; made me forget that I never would be. They never began the same. No, in some of them I'd be walking along the beach with Hutch, listening as he pointed out some random sight he wanted to share. Other times we'd be working a case and running after a suspect, not talking, but working as one nonetheless. Still others we'd be in bed together. I'd hear Hutch's whispers to me, telling me how beautiful I looked and how lucky he was. All these words spoken as he brought me closer and closer to release. I could feel my cock hardening as the promises of the present mingled with the anticipation of the future.
But it never came to pass. I never saw the sights, never caught the suspect, and never reached climax. I would blink, let it linger a little longer than I should, and when my eyes opened again I would be back in my sterile prison. At least now I didn't scream out, often jarring Hutch out of his uncomfortable rest as he sat guard beside my bed. No matter how many times I sent him home, told him it would be okay, he would sneak back in and make sure he was there to hold me as I transitioned between the dream world of wholeness and the broken reality in which I now lived.
I don't remember much about that day; actually don't remember it at all. One minute I'm waking up in his arms, telling him how we were gonna have an easy day of it because the squad room was being painted. I can still feel his laughter against my bare skin as I told him how we could relax, play a little ping-pong, and not have to worry about the bad guys for a while. The next thing I remember, I was waking up in hazy consciousness with Hutch pacing around in front of me, asking me questions I didn't have answers for.
Hutch wouldn't talk about it at first. Every time I asked him to tell me, he would shut down and say I needed my rest and there wasn't anything to say. I was shot, I was hurt, but I was going to get better. I could tell there was something more to the story, but I didn't push. I would just ask again every so often and each time he would share a little more. I was shot all right, but it wasn't a normal shooting. I was taken down in the police-parking garage in an assassination attempt that was supposed to kill us both.
That was all he would tell me for a while, all he could tell me without getting angry or sad again. But little by little I was given the whole story. The assassination attempt was ordered by James Gunther himself. One of the most powerful men in the country had a vendetta against us because we dared to foul up his structure of control. But Gunther didn't get Hutch and that's where he went wrong. Hutch was like a man on a mission, blind to anything but the fact that he had to find out who did this to his partner and he had to make them pay. One man to take on the spider web of fear that had reached farther than anyone could imagine. But he did it, did it without regarding the consequences. He only knew that he had to make Gunther pay and that was what he was going to do. I was more aware when he finally broke down and told me that, but I was in no way ready to hear the answer to my fears.
The nurse had come earlier and helped me sit up a little more. I liked being able to sit up, finally able to look at the world eye level rather than flat on my back. Hutch had come, like always, pleased to see how I was progressing and not daring to focus on the parts that weren't.
"Did you kill him?" I asked, readjusting myself in the bed.
He wouldn't speak, wouldn't answer me. He just cast his eyes downward. I tried again.
"Hutch. Did you kill him?"
"No," he whispered, raising his eyes to meet mine. "I wanted to, but I couldn't."
I breathed a sigh of relief at that. I knew Hutch and he could have killed Gunther without a second thought because of what he'd done to me. But he also knew that if he had done it, I would be left alone to struggle through my supposed recovery.
"He killed you once and I wanted to do the same to him," he said.
That was another thing that Hutch had told me before. I was pushing him for more details, more understanding of what had happened while I was unconscious, and finally he let his tears fall as he admitted that I had died. My heart had stopped beating and the doctors couldn't get it started again. They finally did, when Hutch beat a path to my door. It should have been traumatic, should have been earth shattering, but somehow I knew why I had come back. I needed to come back to him, needed to make sure he didn't break under all the strain. I needed to be with Hutch again.
"What's gonna to happen to him?" I asked.
"He's going to pay, Starsky. That I'll make sure of. Even if I have to track down every lead myself, he's gonna pay for what he did to us."
I knew he was telling me the truth. Gunther's organization was far-reaching, but he had already tracked the path all the way to the top. There would be nothing to stop him from working and making sure that the case against Gunther was airtight. The man was gonna pay all right, but what would be enough punishment? I looked into his pained eyes and asked for some assurances, some truths.
"What's gonna happen to us, Hutch?"
For that, he had no immediate answer.
I could see the emptiness in his eyes sometimes. It's less often now, but it still happens when he thinks I'm not looking or asleep. He'll be fine, laughing and joking and trying to take my mind off the despair, but when I'm on the edge of sleep I would glance at him and see it. I would see the truth cross his face and the faraway look gather in his eyes. He was remembering everything we had together and try to combine that with the reality of what we were left with. I didn't want him to feel that pain, didn't want to put him through it, but every time I pushed him away he would come back. I couldn't make him have a life without me and I couldn't see any possibility of having a real life together anymore. We were stuck in that in between place of knowing, but not wanting to accept.
We celebrated the beginning of my recovery one late night. Hutch and me and Huggy and even Dobey all gathered in my room to toast to the future. That was back when I had hope, when I was so high on pain killers that I just chalked up my loss to a temporary setback. I would get better, they all said so. I didn't need to worry about the future because we would be together. That night was the last time I could remember being happy. Hutch and me, snuggled together in my too narrow hospital bed, with Huggy and Dobey on the edge. We laughed and drank and just kept a mood of hope. There was a lot of hope back then. But then the drugs wore off and the progress slowed and their smiles turned fake. I was surviving, but I wasn't really living anymore.
I lashed out at Hutch a lot. I lashed out at everybody, but he was around to take more of the beatings. I wanted to just walk out of there, take him in my arms, and make love to him. I wanted to be reminded that we were still strong and fearless. I wanted to be whole again. And all Hutch wanted was for me to live. It didn't matter to him if I could never do any of those things again; he just wanted me to keep on living. He would push me until I thought I would break and then he would push me a little more.
The parallel bars were the worst. I could handle just about any other therapy, but I hated the bars. They were supposed to strengthen my upper body, but all they did was instill fear in me. Every time I was forced onto them, I had the constant fear that I would fall. Every time Hutch would be there just to make sure I didn't.
"Come on, Starsky. Just a little farther," Hutch called out. He was only a few feet away, at the end of the bars, but to me it seemed like miles.
"I...I can't," I panted, sweat pouring down my face.
"You can and you will. I'm right here."
I inched my hands down the bar, pulling my braced legs along with me. "Anyone ever tell you..." I panted. "That you're a real prick?"
Hutch laughed at me. "Nobody but you."
I was almost to him, almost able to rest against his skin, when I miscalculated. I only fell a few inches before Hutch caught me, but no matter how many times I slipped, it scared me.
"You okay?" he asked, holding me against his chest.
I tried to nod, but my assurance was lessened by the fact that I was still shaking. He eased me down in my chair, settling my legs so that I wouldn't cramp. Therapy was over, always abruptly ended when I had a near fall. My therapist would rather me just work through it, but Hutch put his foot down the first time and it was never up for discussion after that. He could push me, but nobody else was allowed and when he deemed it too much, it was too much.
Hutch was my substitute therapist throughout the whole ordeal. The hospital staff knew what they were doing, but he knew even better. He knew that I would let him do things, force me to try things, that I never would have let a stranger do. He would massage my legs and ease my mind. When the darkness kept closing in, he was there. When my body needed attention, he was there. When I was lost again and again, he was there. He was always there and I appreciated him for it. I often abused that loyalty, but he knew I never meant it. I would yell, curse, scream at him. He'd just walk away for a while, letting us both cool off, and then he was back again for the next round.
We'd never fought like this before, never had reason to, but now things were different. Back before, we were too focused on the good things and paid only passing attention to the bad. We were happy back then, happy to be together and happy to do our jobs as one. That love and devotion was there even before we expressed it more physically. We were partners and that meant everything. We were friends who became lovers, but the relationship was still the same. We cared for each other, always had, and we were determined that the future would find us never far apart.
When I pictured our futures together back when I was whole, I would always see a joyful day of us finally giving up our bachelor apartments and moving in together. That was a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness. It wasn't supposed to be like this, not this painful and angry and destructive.
We had gone out to the stone gardens to relax. My therapy had tired me out and Hutch knew that the gardens always seemed to make me feel better. He pushed me out into the sun, chattering away about this plant and that bird and how the sun felt so wonderful on his face. By the time he had parked me beside the benches and taken his own seat, I could tell he was stalling for some reason.
"What is it?" I asked him.
He laughed. "Never could hide anything from you, huh?"
He took my hand in his, looking at them as a smile started to edge across his face. As his eyes looked back up at me, I could tell this was something important.
"I found us a house," he said.
"You what?" Confusion must have been evident on my face because he was quick to assure me.
"I found us a house," he repeated, smiling more. "It's beautiful, Starsk. Just on the edge of town, it's this great place on a little piece of land."
"You found us a house?" I still wasn't getting it.
"Yeah, our house." He smiled at the thought. "Between the two of us, it's even less than our rent now. We could have our first home."
"A home?" I must have sounded like an imbecile. "What's...what's it look like?"
"Well, it's a one-level place over near Birchwood. Three bedrooms, standard set-up. They're big, open rooms, too. The guy that built it made sure it was...well, it'll work for us."
Something in me snapped. I jerked my hand out of his as the anger rose. "You mean it'll work for a cripple!"
Hutch looked like someone slapped him. "I thought this would make you happy. We always knew we'd have to give up our places eventually. I thought you'd like it."
"I'm not living in some cripple house."
"Starsky...we have to think about the future."
"You can go to hell!" I yelled at him.
"No thanks, I'm already there!" he shot back, jumping from his seat. He didn't say another word to me, turning around and leaving me alone in the garden.
I watched him go back to the hospital, escaping through the doors to the interior. I kept thinking he'd come back out and apologize, but he didn't. After ten minutes of seething, my mood turned to worry and then fear. What if he had walked out for good? What if he had had enough and I just cut the final tie that was keeping him here? What if I really was alone in all of this?
I sucked up my pride and put my hands on the wheels of my chair. I hated the feel of the cold metal against my skin, hated that it was one more thing I'd have to get used to. But I would do it because if I didn't, Hutch might leave. Everything I did was in need to prove to Hutch that I could still be worth something. It just took a little more convincing for myself than it did for him.
I wheeled myself over to the door, managing to get myself inside with a little maneuvering. I thought I knew where he had gone, where he always went when we fought about my therapy or my future, and that's where I headed. When I got to the door of my room, I paused to take a deep breath. I had to make this right again. I wheeled myself in and saw him facing the window. He was stiff and unmoving, didn't even turn around. I wheeled myself over to him and gently took his hand, laying my forehead against it.
"Please don't leave me," I begged.
He quickly turned around, dropping to his knees in front of me. He took my head in his hands. "I'm never gonna leave you."
"I didn't mean it," my voice broke. "I'm sorry, Hutch. I didn't mean it."
"It's okay," he assured me. "It's okay."
"I love you," I told him. "I'm just so mixed up right now."
"I know. It's gonna be okay."
"I wanna live with you. I wanna love you forever. But, Hutch, I'm scared."
"It's a scary thing. This is a big step, a big change, but we have to make it."
We both knew we weren't just talking about the house anymore. This was a much deeper understanding, a much deeper admittance. I had to accept that I wasn't going to jump up and be whole again. I had to accept that this was going to be our forever.
"I can't do it alone," I told him.
"Together, Starsk. We'll do it together."
Change comes in many forms and so does acceptance. I had to finally come to terms with what this life had left me. I wasn't who I had been, but I was still me. My legs no longer worked, but I was alive and I had Hutch. He promised he'd never leave and I promised I'd do the same. We never break our promises. What I thought was a loss was just a change. We had traveled through a lot of pain to get us to the point of love and this was just another part of the journey. I had to stop hanging onto the past if I was to have any hope of a future.
I'm never gonna walk again, never gonna dance at Rosie Dobey's wedding, or run along the beach with Hutch. I'm never gonna be able to have the same kind of sexual relationship with my partner that I had before. I'm never gonna be able to do a lot of the things I took for granted, but I will still be around to enjoy the life I was given. I'm gonna be in this chair forever, but Hutch is gonna be standing right beside me the whole way. That makes it all worth it.