Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders of the rights to Starsky and Hutch.

This is the first time that I will be posting by chapters—thanks Eli and S'gal! Hope it works! Mahalo to all of the wonderful people in my life, who continue to encourage, support, and inspire me in my endeavor to write.

Warning: "Silent Witness" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. This story also revolves around a paranormal/metaphysical genre; if this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping.

oo Silent Witness oo

CHAPTER FOUR

Hutch walked out to the kitchen; surprised to hear the soft sound of knocking coming from the front door of Starsky's apartment. He quickly put the tray down on the counter and walked over to the door to open it.

"Hey Hug," the tall blond greeted, thumping the slender, black man on the back as he entered the house, "About time you got here . . ."

"Yeah," Huggy drawled, looking around the living room, "Almost didn't make it with all the traffic . . . hey . . . where is the man of steel. You'd think he'd be tired of sleepin' after being in a coma for six days." The black man snorted at his own joke. "Here, I brought some pastries for our little patient."

"Thanks," Hutch said, taking the little box from brightly dressed man, "Actually he's up

. . . I was just gonna put on a pot of coffee for us."

"Yeah? Then I'm just'n time. How's our boy doin' . . . inquiring minds wanna know . . ." Huggy's grin soon faded as he saw the blond's face grow serious.

"I don't know Hug," Hutch said softly, "He's still having headaches and he's been having nightmares as well . . . I want him to tell me about them, but you know how he gets . . ."

"Mmm-hmm . . .gettin' Curly to talk when he don' wanna, is like gettin my momma to lose some weight . . . it ain't gonna happen."

"Well this time it is," Hutch insisted, pale blue eyes drifted to the bedroom door as it was yanked open. The brunet emerged; his dark curly hair was tousled and unruly. His glowering expression changed to one of surprise, as a lopsided grin broke out on his face.

"Hey Hug," Starsky greeted, "Hutch said you'd be coming . . . thought he was lyin' to me." The brunet eyed his blond friend, hoping that the subject would be dropped, now that they had a guest.

"Uh-uh buddy," Hutch said softly, shaking his head, reading his partner's thoughts as if he had voiced them out loud, "You're going to spill it, as soon as the coffee is made."

"But Hut . . ." the whine was cut short from the brunet who stood with his mouth hanging open, as the blond raised his silent finger in warning.

"We're talking pal," Hutch said firmly, as he walked into the kitchen to start the coffee, "And anyway, Huggy knows about the nightmare . . . I just told him."

"What?" Starsky huffed, turning his glare on skinny black man, who stood with his hands on his slender hips, his fluorescent lime-green pants made the brunet squint.

"There ain't nuthin' to be ashamed of m'man. . . even Superman had the spooks about kryptonite." Huggy laughed.

"Yeah," Starsky said gruffly, "Is that what you're tryin' to be . . . kryptonite? It ain't Halloween yet Huggy . . . what's with the green suit?"

"Mmm-mmm," Huggy smiled, shaking his head, "Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! You are lucky that I have a self-esteem that is as solid as a diamond!"

"Wouldn't do that partner," Hutch warned, returning with three steaming mugs of coffee, which he set carefully on the table. "First of all, it's rude to insult your friends, and secondly, you're liable to piss Huggy off with your inhospitable manners, and he just might leave with that box of doughnuts he brought for you."

"Doughnuts?" the brunet looked to the black man who grinned widely, "You brought doughnuts for me Hug?" Starsky looked hopefully at the box next to the mugs.

"Just for you amigo . . . the way it looks, you're in dire need of a sugar rush to sweetin' your sour disposition." Huggy nodded emphatically, sauntering past the brunet to take his place at the table next to the seated blond.

Starsky stood stubbornly in the middle of the room while the other two ignored him, chatting away and laughing as they chomped on the doughnuts meant for him, and drank from their coffee mugs. Sighing heavily, the brunet walked over to the remaining seat at the table, and sat down.

"Well . . . look who decided t'join us," Huggy grinned, "Didn't last as long as I thought it would," the black man said to the blond.

"Yup, pretty amazing isn't it?" Hutch said, licking the sweet sugary glaze from his finger.

"What?" Starsky said, raising a dark brow at his smiling friends. "What didn't last long . . . huh?" the brunet questioned again when no one bothered to answer him the first time, "Hello?"

Hutch snorted, taking pity on his perplexed friend, after all, he'd just got out from the hospital this morning after being in a coma for six days, they could afford to cut him some slack. "Your pouting . . ."

"What?" Starsky said, brows drawn together as he stared at his blond counterpart.

"Your pouting . . . it didn't last as long as we thought it would." Hutch grinned as he saw his friend give him "the look".

"You know . . ." Starsky drawled, "With friends like you two . . . who needs enemies?"

Hutch laughed and reached over to ruffle his partner's tangled curls, "Here, have a doughnut dummy," he said affectionately, handing him the box, which the brunet carefully perused over; finally selecting a chocolate glazed one, which he promptly took a big bite out of. Hutch handed his friend the cream. Starsky always added cream to his coffee and sometimes even went so far as to add teaspoon of sugar as well. 'Well, today he needed as much sweetening as possible!' the blond thought fondly, watching the brunet as he stirred his mug.

"Thanks Hug . . . for the doughnuts." Starsky said, grinning at the proprietor of "The Pits," a place they often frequented to unwind after work.

"Say not a word," Huggy said with a flourish as he waved his slender hands in the air, just to press his fingers against his temple as he closed his eyes, "Your thoughts were heard!" The black man always found a way to make his two friends laugh.

After Starsky finished his doughnut and drank most of his coffee down, Hutch decided to carefully broach the subject. "How you doing? Ready to tell us about that dream of yours?" He watched as he partner's bright eyes clouded over, and lowered to the coffee mug he held in his hands.

"'Kay," the brunet said softly, making the blond almost regret having to bring the subject up.

Starsky looked so troubled and unsure, that Hutch gently put his hand on the brunet's shoulder and squeezed it softly, "Hey buddy, it's just a dream . . ."

"Yeah, but it seemed so real . . . almost like I was there, but I couldn't do anything t'help . . . like I was a silent witness to this horrible mess . . . ya know?" The stormy blue eyes connected with the blond's pale ones, as Hutch encouraged the brunet to continue with a slight nod of his head.

Starsky drew in a quivering breath and lowered his eyes once again, "In the dream, there's a semi-truck," he began slowly, "The driver's drunk . . . I mean he's so b-blasted that he doesn't even know he's lost control of the truck . . . isn't even aware that it . . . that it's headed towards a school bus."

Starsky closed his eyes, hearing the screams, seeing the horrific scene playing once more behind his tightly shut lids, "There's this little girl on the bus Hutch, sh-she sees the truck coming, knows it'll hit . . . she's terrified and she's callin' out for her ma. I think she . . . I think she knew she was gonna die. The kids are all screamin', and the bus . . . it slides on its side from the impact."

Starsky opened his eyes and took shelter in the soft blue of his friend's compassionate gaze, "The bus bursts into flames . . . lotta the kids were dead or trapped inside the bus . . . and the screaming . . . they were pounding on the windows Hutch . . . a-and the dead girl . . . she looked at me and said that . . . that I was too late." He shuddered as he remembered the little girl's head turning slowly towards him to reveal her vacant, accusing stare.

Hutch once again squeezed the muscled shoulder of his partner, remembering Starsky whispering those same three words, 'It's too late,' and it haunted the blond. He felt the slight trembling in his friend and he whispered, "Hey, it was just dream buddy . . . it was just a dream . . ."

"Okay . . . what kind of number ya'll pullin' on me huh?" Huggy snickered, "It's pretty crass to be makin' a joke about what went down, but I gotta say Starsky, that your actin' ability has gott'n better! You almost had me snowed . . . almost got me believin' in your story there for a minute."

Both detectives turned to look at the slender black man, confusion evident in their gazes.

"Oh no . . ." Huggy joked, wagging a finger in their faces, "Don'tcha be lookin' at me like that . . . all innocent and wide-eyed . . . you think I didn't hear about it? Why do you think I was late in the first place? They're re-routing everybody to get around the wreck, causing traffic everywhere . . .here let me show," Huggy said, getting up to turn on the television set.

It was playing on all of the news stations, the terrible event that tugged on everyone's heartstrings. Starsky stared in horror at the TV, barely listening to the drone of the news reporter at the scene, as the camera zoomed over the little broken bodies strewn about. The black charred bus, was barely recognizable and was still being sprayed with water by the fire department. The semi truck had broken through the guardrails and went over the embankment after plowing through the bus, the driver had yet to be removed from the twisted metal wreckage.

Starsky could feel his heart accelerate as his breathing grew shallow, his bright blue eyes riveted to the horrific scene on the tube. He stared in abject horror as the camera panned over the crying parents and the many little body bags that were being zippered up. As the camera panned over one bag, Starsky caught a glimpse of the little girl inside; her vacant brown eyes seemed to be staring straight at him. "It's too late," he heard her small voice in his head, as the bag was zipped up.

"Oh god Hutch," Starsky gasped softly, feeling his head beginning to throb, "It's her . . . the little girl . . . oh god, that was her . . ."

To be continued . . .