Chapter 3

You are about to wake when you dream that you are dreaming.

David Starsky was dreaming. He knew he was, and he was enjoying himself. He was dreaming of a beautiful girl. She was small, no more than 5'2". She had the deepest, most intense brown eyes he'd ever seen and glossy, long brown hair that hung in a curtain to her waist. He took a hold of a handful of that hair and wrapped it around his fist, feeling the silky strands slip between his fingers and he sighed into her neck, nuzzling at the perfumed skin. They had been making out for hours. He knew her body and she knew his as thought they fit together like a hand in a glove. Right now, they stood mere inches apart as Starsky felt the electricity dance between them. The woman with no name leaned into him, her hands raking small furrows down the olive tanned skin of his back as she breathed against the crook of his neck. Her aura….whatever she would call it tickled along his overheated flesh so that he felt as though he were stood inside a tropical breeze. The woman's hands slid from the cop's spine around to the front and he gasped as once again she took a hold of the centre of his body. Her hands were warm, sensuous; as though she'd encircled him in silk and satin and he let his head fall back as a sigh escaped his parted lips. Quickly she dotted a small kiss on his outstretched neck above the pulse throbbing there and his indigo blue eyes fluttered. His hands reached for the woman and brought her body close to him so that he could feel the heat of her. He smoothed his hands down her slim frame, cupping each breast in his hands. He bent and took one rosebud nipple between his teeth, gently worrying the nub of hardened flesh. The woman mewed her approval and her hands worked harder at the centre of his body until he felt the world throbbing in that one engorged organ. The planet existed only to give them pleasure. They knew each other and they wanted each other. Nothing else mattered. Slowly and gently, never taking his lips from her nipple, Starsky sank to the ground, bringing the woman with him and when she lay beneath him, looking up at him with trusting brown eyes, he positioned himself between her legs.

Starsky smiled down at her feeling a rush of warmth. 'I love you' he whispered into the woman's ear as he bent to his task, feeling his tip pushing at her body insistently.

'Well hello to you too' a female voice with an amused edge replied.

The vision of love making disappeared. Starsky's eyelids felt heavy, as though he hadn't used them in a long time. In fact his whole body felt almost too heavy to move; too useless, as though he'd somehow forgotten how to instruct his muscles. He tried to flex his arm and it hurt like hell. Widening his eyes further he blinked at the light. Love making wasn't supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to be warm and erotic and comfortable. Instead the brunet felt nothing but pain, nausea and a sense of fear.

Indigo eyes opened wider, focused slowly and looked up into the woman's face.

No, not THE woman, merely A woman. This female had green eyes rather than brown and although she was relatively pretty to look at, she was by no means the brunette beauty of his dreams and she was taking something from his head, his ears somehow feeling decidedly cold as though they had been covered.

Confused, Starsky tried once again to form words, alarmed at the dryness and cracks on his lips and the rasping quality of his voice. What the hell was going on?

'Hey' he whispered weakly.

'Hey yourself. We thought you'd never wake up. It's good to finally see those beautiful blue eyes. Welcome back.' The nurse, in her pale pink tunic and blue pants clucked over her patient, straightening his covers and finally placing a thermometer under the brunet's tongue. Starsky felt the pressure of a blood pressure cuff inflate around his right arm. It hurt. Cuffs like that shouldn't hurt, but then again, right at that moment even breathing seemed to hurt some. He waited impatiently until the glass was slid out from between his teeth and then he licked his dried lips and tried again.

'Where am I?' he asked his voice husky and weak.

The nurse looked down at her patient. 'You're in the hospital. You've had quite a time of it. We thought we were going to lose you a couple of times, but I have to say you're one hell of a fighter.'

'Don't remember……how?'

The woman's face fell and she busied herself recording figures onto a chart. 'You need to rest honey. You've been through a lost and you must be so tired. I'll let your doctor know that you're awake. He can fill you in on what's been happening.'

'No…..don't go.' The fear of being alone filled the cop with a cold dread. Starsky tried to reach up to stop the nurse from leaving. For some stupid reason he didn't want to be left alone. It was as though he were teetering on the edge of a void and he didn't want to look down into the bottomless pit. He didn't want to be alone. It scared him, and the fact that it scared him made him all the more fearful. What was it that had him so spooked? The curly haired man's arm that tried to reach for the nurse decided not to obey. It remained obstinately at the brunet's side, heavy and unresponsive and Starsky's heart rate shot up in panic.

'Can't move…..c..can't move. Why?'

The nurse turned and hurried to the head of his bed and placed a soothing hand on Starsky's forehead. 'Ssh. It's ok. You've been unconscious a long time. It's bound to take time for you to start being able to move again. Try to keep calm and I'll go get the doctor.'

'Noo. Don't…..tell me. Where am I?'

'You're in the hospital.'

The brunet's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. The past was a dark blur and he needed answers. 'How long?'

The nurse looked away. 'It's too early for all this. You really should let me go and get the doctor. He can explain everything better than I can. I won't be gone more than a minute. Just let me go and get him huh?' the woman smiled down, her best professional "let's soothe the hysterical man" smile.

Starsky tried again. 'How long?'

'A little over a week since you were brought in. Now let me go get the doctor honey, ok?' She turned her back and was gone leaving Starsky alone with his thoughts and the feeling of fear still sitting like an iceberg in the pit of his stomach.

The brunet tried to raise himself into a sitting position but that was too much for him. He managed to raise his left hand to his face and saw that the forearm was stuck with an IV needle connected to a bottle of clear, colourless liquid hanging from a stand at the head of the bed. Exploring further, the other arm had a matching accessory and the brunet cursed softly. From experience he knew one drip meant trouble. Two drips meant he was well and truly fucked. Shit! The last time he'd been so banged up was…. was.

When?

When had he been so damaged? How did he know about hospitals and drips and….?

Who the hell was he? And what was going on?

The man in the bed started to struggle. Starsky had no recollection of how he'd gotten into the hospital. He couldn't remember his past, or what had happened, or more terrifyingly, who he was. Everything hurt him. As he looked down his body he saw white bandages surrounding his chest. A drain stuck out from between the white folds, attached to something dangling from the bed. The clear plastic drain showed blood. Raising his left hand to brush against his chest, the brunet felt the prickly spikes of stitches peeping out from the top of the bandages and as he looked further he could see that his arms and hands were mottled blue, purple and a sickly green from bruises.

Panic seized him and shook him. He had no memories. He had nothing in his head other than panic and fear and…..loneliness. A sob escaped his throat and Starsky closed his eyes, shutting out the outside world in the hope that some memory would resurface. His head hurt and he felt sick. The pains in his body seemed to have redoubled and all he wanted was a familiar face to come and tell him that everything was ok.

The door to his small, white painted hospital room opened and a man in a white coat appeared. He walked to the bed and looked down at his sweating patient with a smile. It was not the comforting presence Starsky had wished for, but at least now he may get some answers. The doctor was talking to him and the brunet concentrated on the words.

'I'm Doctor Isaac. I've been looking after you since you were admitted. You must have a lot of questions. It's really too early for this conversation, but I'll give you the basics and then you should try to rest.

Starsky looked up at the man. He seemed genuine enough. Isaac was tall, but not overly so. He had an olive toned skin which spoke of a Middle Eastern ancestry and deep, pure brown eyes that looked earnestly down at his patient.

'I don't remember anything' Starsky rasped, the edge of fear showing in his eyes.

'It's not surprising considering the state you were in when you were admitted into the hospital. Weaker men than you would not have survived, but I take my hat off to you. You are a true fighter.'

'Terrific, I'm a fighter.'

'Tell me what you remember' Isaac said gently.

The man in the bed closed his eyes. Good question. What did he remember? Starsky concentrated on trying to access memories that seemed to have been erased totally from his head. Where there should have been peoples faces, snatches of conversations, remembered jokes there was nothing. A deep, dark pit seemed to have formed inside his head replacing anything that had once been there. What about his Mom? Every guy has to have had a Mom. Concentrate on that for a minute and see what floats up.

Nothing.

Starsky clawed at the sheet covering his body and a trickle of sweat beaded on his forehead and wound its way down the side of his face. 'There's nuthin there Doc. I don't remember nuthin……who am I?'

Isaac made soothing shushing noises and brought up a chair to sit by the side of the bed. He leaned forwards and took a hold of his patient's hand, sighing deeply. 'You must try to calm yourself. It won't do any good to get upset. I'll tell you what I know and then I want you to rest. Deal?'

Starsky nodded, focusing his attention on the man's words so that he didn't have to think about the sickening void in his head. 'Deal.'

'You were brought into the hospital eight days ago in a very damaged state. It seems you were in a car crash. You had a nasty concussion, five broken ribs, a punctured lung and a ruptured spleen. You also had a broken ankle. All your injuries are healing nicely although you still have a long way to go and you need to be patient. We have you on antibiotic drips and now that you are awake, the nurse will help you to sit up a little. But you mustn't overdo things. Rest is the ticket. Rest and sleep.'

Starsky rolled his head on the pillow, his eyes closed as though in pain. 'I don't remember. I don't remember a damned thing. Nuthin. I was in a car crash? Was there anyone else involved? Where was the crash? Was I drivin'?'

Isaac shook his head. 'You've had a shock. All these details can wait until you're stronger.'

'No Doc. I need to know. Just an outline, I don't need details. Just gimme sumthin to work on huh?'

'Fine. An outline, but no more. And then rest or I'll have the nurse sedate you. You were brought in alone. Your car was found on its roof on a small back road by the coast. It seems you had been forced off of the road and left for dead. The men that picked you up and brought you here said that another car was seen driving away fast from the crash site. They managed to get the cars number. Is that enough for you for now?'

The brunet stared at the white tiled ceiling trying to make sense of what he'd heard. Nothing rang bells with him. The doctor might just have well told him he was the sheik of Arabia, but there was one last thing he needed to know.

'I don't remember' Starsky rasped. 'Do you know my name? Who I am?'

'We don't know what you do, although you had several guns in the car so I think we can safely say you weren't a florist. Other than that, your driving licence says you come from Jacksonville, Florida and your name is Ethan Quade.'