Hi All,

Well, I finally came back to this story. I am so sorry for the incredibly long wait. For those not already familiar with this story, this one is way off the beaten path. For those of you who have been so patiently waiting, thank you!

As always, thanks to The Usual Suspects.

Chapter 7

Starsky could hear a voice softly calling to him. He was still a little leery from the last time he had heard the voice. There had been pain. He didn't like pain; it made it hard to think. He felt a hand take his. It didn't feel 'right', somehow. Not like before. He pulled back and moved away, further into the white.

He was missing something. He couldn't really remember what. It was on the tip on his tongue. It seemed that the harder he tried to remember what he was missing, the more he forgot. He didn't want to forget… what he was forgetting. Confusion was closing in. The white space he traveled in somehow seemed to get whiter… a fog of white swirled around him.

Starsky bolted. He didn't know where he was going and couldn't remember why he felt the need to go. Only that he must go.

XXXX

The Visitor smiled. Starsky's confusion was growing. Things were progressing very nicely now.

XXXX

Berry Brockman frowned at the unconscious cop. The man wasn't moving, aside from breathing. He was not getting any reaction despite his crooning and soft talk. Not like before. He dropped the hand he was holding, suddenly beginning to think that this wasn't such a great idea after all.

He stood up and moved away from the bed. He walked to the window and watched the snowfall silently on the sill. The flakes were small and falling fast. The heavy snow his coworker had predicted had arrived. He turned back from the window and stared at the still form on the bed. It was creepy how still the man was. As if the cop's spirit was preparing to leave his body.

Brockman shook his head at that inane thought and wiped a hand down his face. "Coffee, that's what I need. Coffee" he tiptoed across the room and exited quietly. He leaned against the closed door and gave a sigh of relief, though he wasn't at all sure why he should feel that way. "Coffee" he reiterated as he nodded to himself and headed for the vending machines down the hall.

XXXX

In the white space, The Other growled in frustration. He had come so close to achieving his goal. He backed away. Perhaps he had been pushing Brockman too hard, he was eager to prove his point and achieve his goal. He wanted to show The Visitor up. Now he had spooked the newsman by pushing too hard. It had to seem like it was Brockman's idea or his plan would fail, even with one as self-centered as Brockman.

XXXX

Davenport, Iowa

The young mother brushed back a stray curl of copper colored hair off of her daughter's forehead. Beads of sweat formed on the child's brow. The mother patted it dry. The seven year old twitched at the light touch and then she stilled.

"Maria?" The young mother called softly.

The little girl twitched again, the copper curls bobbed and bunched against the pillowcase, only to go motionless once more.

The mother sat back in her chair to continue her vigil.

XXXX

Starsky entered a place that was different than the other places… or non-places that he had been. Elsewhere had been white and foggy. Here… wherever 'here' was, was… different. He kept moving and slowly began to notice lumps in the ground. Some lumps were no bigger then large anthills, some were nearly shoulder high.

The brunet snickered to himself. A field of lumps. He walked down the rows, they seemed endless. As he walked he began to notice that some lumps were moving, swaying gently in a nonexistent breeze.

"Help me."

Starsky stopped and looked about. The words had been faint. He shook his head and stepped forward, continuing his route between a row of lumps.

"Please help."

The whispery words floated by him on the nonexistent breeze. The voice sounded young. He headed in the direction of the voice.

"Where are you?" The sound of his own voice startled him. It was dampened, muted.

"Here… here…"

It took him a while to locate the source, but he found it. It was one of the smaller lumps. The lump barely came to his knees. He knelt down and stared at it. Feelings of utter foolishness came over him; he stood back up and started to move away, giving the mound a wary look as he did so.

"Don't go! Help!"

Starsky looked at the lump. The voice was coming from it. He backed away. This strange white field of lumps had just gotten a whole lot stranger.

"Please… don't leave me."

He swallowed hard, set his jaw and walked back to the mound. The voice sounded like a child's voice. But then he wasn't really sure. This whole white place was one big mystery to him. He made a small circle around the little mound, scratching his head. "How can I help you?"

"Help… help…I'm scared…" came the plaintive cry.

Not knowing what else to do, Starsky leaned down and put his arms around the mound and pulled up. The mound came up easily in his arms and once out of the ground began to change shape. The formless mound took the shape of a little girl.

The girl smiled at him, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Thank you!"

She then 'poofed' and disappeared from the circle of his arms. Starsky spun around quickly, looking for the girl. She was nowhere to be seen. "What the hell just happened?"

"What do you think you're doing?" The voice of the visitor hissed in his ear.

"I don't know… I'm not sure what the hell just happened." Starsky scanned the white space, still looking for the mound-turned child.

"You shouldn't be here yet, you're not ready, yet."

"Ready? Ready for what?" Utter confusion colored Starsky's voice.

"Ready to be here… to be a part."

"A part? A part of what?"

"You need to leave now. Come with me."

"No." For the first time since he had awoken in this strange white space, Starsky now felt confident of something. Confusion had ruled him for a while now. He had been pulled in different directions, first by his Guide and then by the Visitor. The incident with the girl had changed that. He was certain that he was being deceived.

But who was the deceiver? The Guide, whose voice was friendly, kind and beckoning, but led him to pain? Or the Visitor, who reasoned with him about avoiding the pain and staying here, in this place. Urging him not to think, not to feel…

The girl had been happy to be free. But what had happened to her? Had she died? Or was it something else that had happened to her? He looked about at the strange field of mounds. Was each of them a person too? Why were they here? What was the purpose to this place? A place that the Visitor claimed he wasn't ready for.

"Help me…"

A new voice floated to him. He looked about the field, searching for the source of that voice.

"Don't. You mustn't do that again." The voice of the Visitor was calm.

Starsky looked at the Visitor. There was no real form to it. It was a cloud, a mist. Why had he not noticed that before? "What are you? Who are you?"

"Come with me please."

"No" Starsky turned and headed in the direction of the new voice.

XXXX

Doctor Montgomery drank his tea slowly as he reread the report. After reading, he looked out the window as he took a long sip of his Earl Gray. 'Nothing like hot tea on a cold winter's night.' He thought as he watched the silent snow fall. He hoped his colleague would be able to make it here in time. If he didn't, Montgomery knew that he faced the possibility of doing a delicate surgery on very little sleep. Being shaky due to being over caffeinated was not a good idea either, especially if he ended up doing surgery on the blond cop. Hutchinson…

This was one pair of cops who couldn't seem to catch an even break. First detective David Starsky is in an avalanche, and then everyone thinks that the man is dead. Detective Hutchinson finds his partner, who is seconds away from having a coroner cut him open. Even though proper medical assistance was given, detective David Starsky had just slipped into a coma, possibly due to re-warming shock.

Detective Hutchinson had been exhausted, but insisted on standing vigil at his partner's side. Next thing that happens is that the poor man takes a tumble on the stairs, probably due to his exhaustion. The blond had suffered cerebral trauma as a result. Tests that had been done so far indicated that he was beginning to show signs of a subdural hematoma, a slow bleed under the dura, but outside of the brain.

This was a grave cause for concern. The small bleed, if it continued, would need to be repaired. Doctor Hermonson, when he arrived, might have to go in and repair the damage. Cerebral edema was also a distinct possibility. However, since his treatment had been initiated immediately, the high-flow oxygen that the detective was on seemed to be countering it.

If it weren't for bad luck, these two wouldn't have any luck at all. Montgomery sipped again from his cup of tea, only to find that the cup was now empty. He just hoped the weather wouldn't keep Doctor Hermonson from arriving, just in case. Montgomery looked longingly at the box of tea bags. The caffeine they contained would be nice and much needed boost. But if Hermonson could not make it in time, he would have to do the surgery himself, and it would be best if his hands didn't shake from the caffeine.

A tone was then piped over the PA system. He cocked his head and listened to the announcement that followed.

"Doctor Montgomery, report to room 327 – STAT"

It was the blond cop's room.

TBC