This story is not intended to make comment or fun of any belief or religion. It does not reflect the beliefs of the writer nor does it profess to accurately describe "the other side". It is a work of fiction.

My thanks as always to Brook for her unending support. And to Angie, Jan and Nelleke wo, as always, drive me on.

Chapter 10

God his head hurt! Starsky felt like there was a prize-fight going on inside his cranium, each punch sending lightening jolts through his head and behind his eyes. It was worse than the most severe migraine he'd ever had and he really didn't want to open his eyes to look around him. He felt desperately uncomfortable, dizzy and nauseous and he tried to rub his hands over his face to relieve some of the tension, but realised that his arms were securely bound behind his back. He groaned and opened his eyes a crack, looking around cautiously.

He was sitting on the ground, his legs outstretched in front of him and his ankles tightly bound together. Someone had divested him of his shoes, socks and belt and had unbuttoned his shirt, obviously looking for weapons. Bruises showed livid on his chest and side and seeing them made the pain more intense. His back was resting against a stone pillar and his arms were pulled savagely back around the rough stonework and bound together with what felt like wire, leaving no play in the bonds. He felt the metal cutting into his skin.

The brunette closed his eyes, regrouping his thoughts. The last thing he remembered clearly was yelling at Traff to run, once they'd gotten out of his apartment. He had seen his friend take off down the street with Ryan in hot pursuit behind. The hit man tackled the soldier, lunging forward and clutching at Traff's legs, bringing him down to the ground in a football tackle. As they'd returned, Ryan hanging on to a panting Traff's hair, Quinn had turned on Starsky with a look of hatred in his eyes.

'That was dumb. You're gonna pay for that' he spat at the brunette and brought his fist up and into Starsky's stomach. It was a surprise attack and he had no chance to prepare. As the detective bent forward trying to alleviate the pain in his stomach and get some breath into his lungs, the hit man brought the knife edge of his hand down on Starsky's neck. The cop fell to the ground, retching and wheezing, strings of saliva hanging from his gasping mouth. He saw the boot come at him from the corner of his eye and tried to turn, but still the blow lifted him off the ground and he landed partly on his knees, rolled first onto his back, then onto his side as he clutched his hands around his stomach, trying to protect himself from further injury.

He could hear Traff yelling and telling them exactly what he thought of them and their ancestry, but, like Starsky, Traff refused to beg them to stop. As he screwed his eyes up and bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out, Quinn delivered another crushing kick to his back, low down near his kidneys. It was one pain too many. The world sparkled once, then, as if he was watching a fade out on the television, the world started to grey at the edges, before diminishing to a pinprick and finally winking out altogether.

He took a deep breath now and opened his eyes again. Looking around, he realised that Traff was sitting with his back to the next pillar along the line, bound in a similar fashion. The soldier's head rested back on the cool stone and he too had his eyes closed, although whether he was unconscious or just resting, Starsky couldn't tell. Mentally he tested his body. Breathing hurt with a vengeance, although he was fairly sure nothing was broken. His stomach and back ached viciously in competition with his head and his cheek felt as though it was twice the normal size.

The brunette heard a groan and turned his head to his friend.

'Traff?' he whispered. 'You back with me?'

Another deep groan and then the bright green eyes opened, blinked and focussed.

'Oh God. That was a hell of a party' the soldier muttered turning his head weakly to look at Starsky.

'Yeah!. Don't want to play their games again any time soon though' the brunette ground out, feeling his stomach muscles hurt as he spoke. 'You ok?'

He heard Traff snort. 'Other than a head that feels as big as a basket ball, I'm not too bad. How are you? You took a pretty good beating there pal. Are all you bits in working order?'

'Starsky chuckled. 'Well when ya put it like that…..Yeah I think I still got all I need. They just got rearranged and hurt a little' he said with feeling. 'Where d'ya think we are?'

Both men looked around taking in their surroundings for the first time. The room was big, with a vaulted ceiling above them, pillars standing in a line down the middle of the church's nave and chairs in disarray around them. Obviously this particular church hadn't been used for some time and the dirty, cobwebbed windows confirmed their suspicions. They were tied to two pillars near the front of the central aisle, facing the front of the church, looking up at a raised altar, although there were no indication of its use. No crosses or paintings anywhere. The place seemed deserted.

Starsky rested his throbbing head against the cool of the stone.

'OK, so what do we do now?' he mumbled, the pain in his body stopping the flow of his thoughts.

'Well I think we found ourselves the guys who worked Hutch over' Traff said, stating the obvious. 'Before he'd finished beating the crap out of you he said something about "where's Ade" Does that mean anything?'

'Aidan Ryan. The guy who shot Hutch' Starsky confirmed. 'He's the one that was in the hospital. The one you stopped me from getting to? The one that Dobey questioned instead of me. If they want me to tell 'em where he is, they'll have a real job, coz I have no idea'.

'Somehow, buddy, I don't think they're gonna believe that. Do you?' Traff observed grimly.

Starsky stared gloomily back. 'Then we're in for a tough time' he said.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Somewhere a very long way away, Hutch was feeling very impatient and gloomy too. The pink fog that seemed to permeate the whole place was getting on his nerves. Pink had never been a favourite colour anyway, and fog – well if you lived in LA there was entirely too much of it anyway. Highly overrated as far as Hutch was concerned. And as for this tall conductor person. Amaram was getting on his nerves too. If this was meant to be heaven, the blond decided he'd had a misconception of the place. His Mom had always taught him that heaven was a peaceful happy place. So far, all Hutch had seen had been bumbling incompetence and a slightly overzealous use of a certain colour. It had nothing to recommend it at all.

He rested his arms on the reception desk, head in his hands as he tried to figure out exactly what was going on. The woman he'd seen – the receptionist looked none too pleased that her receipts didn't match her invoices. She'd stalked off into the fog and the blond just hoped she hadn't gotten lost. It was turning into a real pea souper – the sort any big city would be proud of.

'Erm…..try to look on the bright side' Amaram chirped at his side.

'What bright side?' Hutch grunted. He felt as though his head should have been aching, but it wasn't. Hey, there was an upside to the place!

'Well, you could be down there in terrible pain' the conductor started. 'You could….' He was cut off as the woman came back through the mist to stand back at her reception post.

'Conductor Amaram, you've done it again!' she admonished.

The man looked sheepish and cowered away from his angry blond charge.

'What's he done again?' Hutch asked, looking from the woman to the man and back. He saw the look on her face. 'What's he done?' he persisted.

'You didn't wait, did you?' the woman asked as Amaram blushed beneath her gaze. He shook his head slightly.

'You've been told about this before. You must always check before you make contact'.

Amaram opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water. 'I….it was almost clocking off time. I'd have been on overtime rates and I know you don't like that. I didn't think a few hours would have made all that much difference' he blustered.

'Overtime rates? What's he talking about?' Hutch asked, getting angrier by the minute. He stopped as the woman raised her hand.

'Conductor Amaram was sent to watch over you. You could have gone either way' she saw the question in the ice blue eyes. 'You could have lived or died' she explained. 'However, our new recruit here became a little over zealous and decided a few hours wouldn't make too much of a difference, and he…..reaped you too early'.

'Reaped me? You make it sound like I'm an ear of corn! What do you mean reaped me too early? Listen lady, if there's been a mistake, I need to know now' Hutch pointed his finger at the woman.

She smiled back with her best customer service smile. 'It seems from the books that you shouldn't be here. You should never have died' she said blandly.

It was the blonde's turn to do the fish impersonation. He closed his mouth for the final time. 'So. Ok. I'm not dead. So just send me back' he said with an air of finality.

'It's not so simple. The books have been tallied for today and you're here. It's not like an elevator you know. You can't just hop on and off when it pleases you. Otherwise he world would be full of great leaders all sticking their oar into world events that have nothing to do with them. Oh deary me no. Once you're here, technically you're here' she explained.

'You said technically. What does that mean exactly?, Hutch asked, grasping at straws.

She leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Well, I shouldn't have done, but I've had a word with the boss. 'She raised a finger and pointed it upwards.

'You mean G.O.D.?' Hutch spelled out, suddenly awestruck.

'Oh good grief no, he's far too busy. No, my line manager' she said, looking flustered. 'It seems we may be able to cut you a deal. There's a spot of trouble brewing with your friend and…..'

'Is Starsk ok? He was so angry and upset and I couldn't do….' He shut himself up at the look of impatience on her face.

'As I said! There's a spot of trouble brewing and my boss says that if you can help him and sort out this mess, you can have another chance'.

'Another chance? At life? Is that what you mean? Well, let me at 'em. Just give me my gun back, get me down there and it'll be sorted out in no time' Hutch said anxiously.

The woman shook her head. 'Would that it were that simple! You'll be there as a….' she giggled shyly…..'as a ghost. He won't be able to see you, but you can see everything that's going on. You can try to change things and make a difference'.

The information sunk in and he nodded, scenarios already going through the blond head.

'There's just one little thing. Erm….that was the good news'.

Hutch's head snapped up. 'And what's the bad?' he asked suspiciously.

She glared at him. 'He must come with you, as his punishment' she pointed at Amaram.

The blond looked at the bowing conductor and his face fell. 'Oh terrific!'