Chapter 1

'Hang on, just hang on Hutch' the words ran over and over through the curly haired detective's head as he watched Judith Kaufman plunge the needle of the syringe into Calendar's arm, extracting the blood which would set his partner hopefully back on the road to recovery. The red fluid entered the barrel with agonising slowness as Starsky counted the seconds until the good doctor could create the cure for his blond partner. He paced the sterile white ER room as she extracted the needle, putting gauze over the tiny wound before other doctors took over the man's care, dealing with bullet he'd taken in the gut.

The adrenaline of the past few hours still flowed through Starsky's veins making him jumpy and edgy. As Calendar came towards the hospital's back entrance, Starsky had seen the big black limo edge around the corner and had seen the guns trained on Hutch's only hope at life. He'd thrown himself across the parking lot shouting for Calendar to get down, but he hadn't been fast enough and he'd felt hope fly out of the window as he saw the hitman fall to the ground clutching his stomach. He'd run to him, crouching over the downed criminal with his gun in his hand shouting for a gurney and a doctor as he pressed his hands over the bloody wound. And now, here he was counting the seconds until the medics could cook up the serum or whatever they wanted to call it, to give t his dying partner.

As Judith ran out through the door of the room and back to her lab, Starsky made his way back to the isolation room his sick partner had inhabited for the past three days. The plague had hit with devastating speed, reducing the once vital, fit and handsome blond to a sweating, moaning and pain filled shadow of his former self. As he raced back up the corridor to the room, the brunette's mind went back to the hour that Meredith had told Hutch that he too was a victim of the disease claiming lives all over the city. His brave partner had sat quietly staring down the microscope, keeping his fear and his thoughts to himself in an attempt to save Starsky any more pain.

'What do they say in the films? Tell it to me straight doc' the blond had said lightly and had listened quietly as the two medics had told him he had 48 hours before the symptoms showed and then a further 72 if he was lucky. As the nurses came with the wheelchair to the lab, Hutch had sat down and locked eyes with his partner and Starsky had promised he'd find Calendar no matter what. But the thought of Hutch walking alone into the glass fronted hospital room had been too much for the brunette and he'd had to turn away so that Hutch couldn't see the despair in his indigo eyes as the blond tried to make light of the situation. He pointed at the costume the nurses handed him.

'Hey, new fashion statement' he quipped as he held up the hospital issue paper night gown. 'Typical, not only do I have to get sick, I have to do it wearing a dress!' Starsky heard the hitch in the velvety voice and knew the blond was scared of the whole scenario.

And then there had been the waiting game. Waiting for the search for Calendar to bring some leads; waiting for the sick to start piling into the hospital; waiting for the bugs in the blonde's blood to start their insidious attack on his body. Eventually Hutch had woken, squinting at the lipstick scrawl on the glass window. STARSK. He tried to get out of bed, but his legs had turned to rubber and he felt the trickles of sweat down his back. As he collapsed back onto the bed, he muttered to himself. 'So, now it starts' and he'd pulled the sheets back around him and shivered and panted his way through the day, becoming progressively worse.

Starsky knew the time he'd gotten dressed in the regulation gown and mask and sat on the blonde's bed would remain with him for ever. Hutch's ice blue eyes seemed to have lost their colour and only the ghost of his partner gazed back at him, locking his eyes on Starsky as though the sight alone would bring him some comfort. As he fought for each breath, the brunette had placed his hands on Hutch's chest as Hutch grasped them with weak fingers, pressing away the pains and tightness that threatened to plunge him into unconsciousness. But Starsky knew he couldn't stay there in the room for ever. He needed to find Thomas Calendar and he'd reluctantly said goodbye as his partner turned away, not wanting Starsky to see the hopelessness in his eyes.

And now, Starsky stopped outside the window, pressing his head against the glass as he looked in at the body laid on the hospital bed. It was still now; too still as it lay underneath the oxygen tent, the usually strong hands limp against the bed sheets and the sweat soaked flaxen hair now the golden shade of a cornfield. Hutch's face was flushed with fever and sweat trickled down the sides of his handsome face unchecked. Without another thought, Starsky pushed open the door and entered the plenum area between the two rooms. The nurse who'd come out of Ritchie's room put her hand out to stop him.

'You can't go in there without a mask' she said, urgency in her voice.

But the brunette pushed her gently out of the way. 'We got the cure. I don't care now. I just want to go in and be with him'.

She looked at the tall cop. 'It may not work. She may not be able to create the serum, it's very difficult' she said gently. 'You still need to be careful'.

He smiled at her. 'It'll work. An' if it doesn't ……. I don't care. If he doesn't make it, nothing matters'. He pushed past her and opened the door to the room, his ears filtering out the hiss of the oxygen as he crossed to the bed. Gently he sat down, unzipping the plastic tent and reaching for the limp hand.

'We did it Hutch. We got the blood. Calendar turned himself in. You just gotta hang in there now till Judith cooks up the good stuff. Just hang in there buddy'.

He reached over to the nightstand and took the cloth, wetting it in the bowl of cool water. Gently he wiped the sweat soaked face and neck, seeing it pooled in the hollow beneath the blonde's throat he continued down the tanned chest, the stupid yellow paper dress having long since been discarded as Hutch became sicker and the nurses needed to gain more access to their patient. As he watched the eyes fluttered open and weakly the dry lips moved.

Starsky leaned forward to catch the whisper.

'No……mask'

He smiled his lop sided smile. 'No need now buddy'.

The blonde's face creased in pain. 'Shit….Not you too' he gasped in a barely audible whisper. The hand on the bed flapped weakly and Starsky took hold of it.

'No, dummy. We got the blood – Calendar's blood. No need for the masks any more. Judith's gonna make you better'.

A coughing fit seized the sick man and he drew his knees up towards his chin in an attempt to ease the pains in his chest and he tried ineffectually to roll onto his side. But he hadn't enough strength and instead he managed only to roll his head on the pillow. As the fit subsided, he groaned, panting as he tried to get some air into his tortured lungs. Starsky rubbed gently on the broad chest.

Hutch fixed his pain filled eyes on his partner. 'Don't need…..t' lie. Hurts…..' he closed his eyes as another pain threatened to squeeze the life from his chest and he bit back the groan.

'Easy Blintz. Just try an' relax, it'll get better. Just hang in there huh? I'm not lying. Would I lie to you? We got it, you just need to breath buddy' he soothed the forehead and Hutch closed his eyes, snuggling his face against the hand as he gained a measure of comfort from the touch.

'Urts….to breathe'. The eyes closed and the body sagged back against the pillow with a final gasp. Suddenly there was silence in the room and Starsky stopped his ministrations, fearfully aware that there was little rise and fall to the blonde's chest. Desperately he raced to the door and dragged the nurse into the room.

'He's hardly breathing' he said frantically as she checked Hutch's airway. She reached up calmly and pushed the alarm button above the bed, the tannoy in the nurses' station warning the medics that there was an emergency in the isolation room. As doctors and nurses rushed in Starsky stepped back from the bed, giving them room to work as his own heart rate climbed. He sat down on the other bed in the room and nervously watched as calmly the staff went about their business. He heard words like 'congestion' 'blocked airways' and 'pleural effusion' and his mind went into freefall. As another nurse trundled the trolley laden with equipment into the room, the doctor at the side of the bed donned a gown and gloves and supervised as two of the nurses gently pulled Hutch up until he was sitting up. He groaned quietly, his head sagging forward in exhaustion and Starsky rushed to his side, insinuating himself between the nurses and taking hold of the blonde's body. Hutch opened pain filled eyes

'S'ok Blintz. Just hang on' he said softly.

The doctor watched. 'I think you need to move out of the way' he said, but Starsky shook his head.

'Not goin' anywhere Doc. Work round me. I can hold him upright. I just need to be here with him'.

'Very well. I need you to keep him as still as possible. Can you do that?'

The curly haired cop nodded and put his hand on his partner's shoulder.

'Concentrate on me huh? Just the two of us. Me and thee like always'.

Hutch nodded weakly and concentrated on the indigo eyes in front of him, his breath now ragged and shallow and his face pale and wet with sweat.

As the brunette watched in horrified fascination, the doctor swabbed an area on the side of the blonde's back at mid way between his spine and side as Hutch flinched at the cold.

'S'ok buddy, It'll be done soon and then ya can breath better huh?'

Starsky kept his eyes on Hutch as the doctor took a syringe and infiltrated the area with local anaesthetic. The blond gripped Starsky's hand weakly and winced.

'Cold……Hate needles'.

'Yeah, I know pal, but that's it now. You shouldn't feel anything else'.

The doctor took a large bore needle from its packing and gently felt around the numbed area, selecting his target. He pushed firmly against the skin between the ribs, watching it dimple before the needle entered and he pushed it further into the small wound until he saw fluid drip form the end.

'Ungh…….' Hutch flinched at the feeling of the foreign object entering his body and Starsky held on to him tight.

'Not much longer now. Hold on huh? Just another minute. You're doin' great'.

Swiftly the doctor connected a tube to the needle, threading it over the shiny metal and into the wound before withdrawing the needle and attaching the tubing to a vacuum flask.

He stitched the tubing into place and placed a white gauze dressing over the site before putting the detritus from the procedure into a paper sac. As he finished the procedure and turned away, Hutch's head fell against Starsky's shoulder, unconscious.

'Doc?' Starsky shouted.

The two nurses supported the blonde's body and positioned it on its side, with the tube site towards the bed. The doctor checked his blood pressure and pulse.

'He'll rest now. He's just exhausted from the pneumonia and the procedure. He'll sleep for a while now. Are you a relative?'

'No. I'm his partner. We're cops'.

The doctor took a closer look. 'Ah, you're the detective who appeared on the television. Good work! At least we have the beginnings of a cure. As for your partner….' He looked down at the limp form and his face became serious. 'I think it may be prudent to call his family, if he has any'.

The curly haired cop took hold of the limp hand and rubbed his thumb up and down it. 'What're ya sayin' doc? After all we've been through he's still not gonna make it?' he asked quietly. The medic motioned for him to go outside and the two men went into the small outer room.

'The plague has severely damaged his lungs. I've had to place the drain into his pleural space because there is a build up of fluid between the walls of the…….' He paused seeing the glazed eyes. 'Our lungs are contained in membranes called pleura. In your partner's case, fluid has built up between the membranes and its putting too mush pressure on his lung. The tubes should help. If we'd have gotten the serum earlier, it would have been a lot easier for him. He has youth and vigour on his side, but I put his chances at less than 50/50'

'But you've got the blood, you've got the cure. Judith said that if I got Calendar here, she could cure him. So, you're telling me now he might die?'

As the doctor nodded, Starsky turned troubled eyes back to the body on the bed. Don't do this to me buddy. Don't you dare go now.