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 SEVENHutch thanked the delivery boy and paid him, exchanging the cash for the pizza. The tall blond could feel his empty stomach grumbling as he gently kicked the door closed behind him. He set the large cardboard box on the table as the delectable mouth-watering aroma wafted throughout the room.
Hutch was vaguely aware that the sound of running water from the shower had been turned off a while ago, and he quickly took out some plates and silverware and brought them to the table. He went back and took out two bottles of beer from the 'fridge, but on a second thought, he returned one bottle and took out the carton of orange juice for Starsky. It wouldn't do to have the brunet drinking alcohol on the first night back from the hospital. The blond smiled as he remembered how his devious friend had tried to con him this morning into giving him a lecture, just to escape their inevitable discussion about the dream he'd had. Hutch sat at the table and looked to the bathroom door, which was still shut. What was taking Starsky so long? The blond thrummed his fingers impatiently against the table.
The shower had been shut off for a while now, and his partner had yet to make an appearance. 'What if he got dizzy and fell and hit his head,' Hutch thought, a sickening image of his partner lying on the tiled floor came to mind. The blond quickly stood in indecision. If he knocked on the door to see if his partner was okay, it would probably piss Starsky off . . . his friend hated to be mothered over. And yet, if the brunet were hurt, then he'd have been be a fool to not have checked on his partner and render aid. Making his mind up, Hutch strode quickly across the room, raising his fist to knock, when the door was yanked open.
Starsky's stormy blue eyes widened in surprise and he took a step back, as Hutch's fist came within inches of connecting with his face.
"What?" Starsky asked, as Hutch slowly lowered his hand, "The pizza come yet?"
"Ah . . . yeah," Hutch stammered, quickly lifting his finger to point at the table, "Over there . . ." Hutch smiled guiltily, as he withered under the his partner's perceptive glare.
"Just ah . . . just checking to see if you ah . . . if you were okay?" Hutch finished quickly, seeing Starsky's dark brows drawing together in irritation.
"I bet!" Starsky huffed, his hair still damp, "Excuse me . . ." he said gruffly.
"Huh?" Hutch said.
"Hutch, would you mind getting' outta the way so I that I could put some pants on . . . huh?" Starsky snapped. His stomach hurt, and though he had wiped himself dry from the cold sweat that had broken out all over his body as he lay gasping on the floor, it had left him feeling chilled to the bone. All he wanted to do was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head. The thought of forcing himself to eat pizza made him feel nauseous, and yet, if he didn't eat, Hutch would figure out that something was wrong.
Hutch watched as his partner stomped off to the bedroom with the towel around his hips. The blond rolled his eyes. Sometimes his partner could be so moody! Hutch slowly followed the brunet back to the bedroom and peeked around the door. Starsky's bare back was turned to him and Hutch could tell that his partner was zipping and buttoning up his jeans. Starsky suddenly turned towards the door, sensing his partner's presence.
Hutch's eyes fell to the discolored and bruised mid-section of the brunet. From the look of it, some blunt object had been jabbed into his partner's stomach over and over again. There were about eight thinly, elongated bruised areas that seem to overlap each other, and his partner's abdomen looked tender and sore. Hutch could have sworn those bruises weren't there when the brunet came out from bathroom just a minute ago. He wouldn't have missed seeing that! Starsky quickly pulled his tee shirt over his head and yanked the material down, covering the shocking damage to his mid-section.
The brunet looked away, as Hutch raised his icy glare to his partner's face. "What the hell happened in there?" Hutch's soft voice seemed to echo across the room.
"Nuthin'" Starsky said softly, eyes downcast. He sighed heavily and raised his eyes to look into the cold stare of his best friend. "Let's eat huh?" he finished lamely. Starsky walked across the room to the door, but was stopped by the big blond.
"Talk to me buddy," Hutch said gently, pushing down the burning hot rage that tore into him when he saw the way his partner had been hurt. He put his hand on the brunet's rigid shoulder as he attempted to pass through the door, "Tell me what happened Starsk," he whispered, gently squeezing the muscled joint beneath his fingers.
The brunet sighed once again, eyes to the floor, as his arm moved inconspicuously across his mid-section. He took in a shuddering breath, "Dunno." Starsky whispered.
There was such a sense of vulnerability in that whispered word, that Hutch just wanted to take his wounded partner in his arms and hug him, shielding him from whatever was happening, but he moved his hand down to the brunet's back instead, rubbing soothing circles into the tight muscles there. "Hey . . . it's okay pal. We'll figure it out together after we eat . . . okay?" Hutch had never seen his partner so distraught before and though he wanted to drill his partner right then and there on the spot, he knew he had to 'ease' into it, or his partner would stubbornly retreat into his dark, moody cave.
Starsky nodded stiffly and followed his partner out to the table. He watched his partner put a slice of pizza on a plate. The smell of the pizza made the brunet's stomach churn. He just couldn't bring himself to eat anything, not after silently witnessing the murder of that young girl. "I-I don' feel too good Hutch," Starsky said queasily, laying his hand against his stomach, "I think I'm gonna lie down for a bit."
Hutch looked up quickly, a slice of pizza in hand, which he put back down in the cardboard box. His partner looked ill, and the fact that he was holding his mid-section, concerned the blond. 'What if there was some internal damage from those bruises?' he thought silently.
"Okay, go lie down buddy," Hutch said gently, "But I need to check you out . . . those bruises look pretty bad."
"M'fine Hutch," Starsky said, shifting his eyes away once again, "Don' need ya t' check me out . . . jus' gonna sleep s'all."
"Look Starsk . . . I know you don't want me to look at those bruises, but it's either that or you're going to the hospital again and have it checked out there. I don't know what happened, or how you got those, but I'm not taking the chance of you having any kind of internal injuries . . . you hear me?"
Starsky nodded again and silently slunk back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, feeling his partner's eyes on him the whole time. He dreaded having to tell Hutch about seeing that girl; his mind was already rationalizing the whole incident away. Maybe he was going crazy . . . or maybe it was some kind of residual effect from the coma . . . it just couldn't be what his heart was telling him . . . he was no Joe Collandra.
The weary brunet climbed into bed, wincing from the pain in his abdomen. He carefully rubbed the injured area, waiting for his partner to come in and play doctor. Starsky looked up as the door was quietly opened, admitting his blond friend carrying a steaming mug.
"Brought you some hot tea buddy," Hutch said smiling, "It might be soothing for your stomach." The blond put the cup on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. "How you doing . . . huh?" Hutch's pale blue eyes looked over his partner's face with concern, noting the dark circles that were starting to form under his eyes.
Starsky took in a deep breath, "'M'fine . . . told ya that already . . . just not very hungry right now . . . the thought of food makes my gut feel weird."
"Mind showing me your stomach, buddy?" Hutch said gently, waiting for his partner to allow him into his personal space.
With a heavy sigh, the brunet pulled up his tee shirt and looked away, not wanting to see the blond's reaction. The slight gasp he heard from Hutch caused the muscle in the side of his jaw to tense suddenly.
The darkening blue-black area on Starsky's abdomen sickened and angered the gentle blond. He reached out a hand to gently examine the tender area, carefully pressing against organs to make sure they were not distended. Though he knew he was causing his partner some discomfort, there was no visible swelling of the abdomen and his partner's skin wasn't cool and clammy or pale. "Do you feel nauseous right now if I press here?" the blond asked softly, gently pushing down on his partner's lower abdomen.
Starsky stiffly shook his head in the negative and then winced as Hutch's gentle fingers probed another bruised area, but he refused to look at his partner. He hated this, but hated the discussion that was bound to follow even more.
Hutch stopped his prodding, sure that there was no internal bleeding or damage. He looked at his partner who continued to look away. The blond sighed and dragged his fingers through his golden hair, wanting to respect his partner's distance, but needing to comprehend what was going on so that he could help the stubborn brunet, who quickly lowered his shirt back into place. "Look . . . I know you don't want to talk about this Starsk, but I need to know what happened to you." The blond waited a while for a response and was about to push the issue once more, when Starsky let out another heavy sigh and looked him in the eye.
"How can I tell ya what happened, when I can't even explain it myself?" the brunet said quietly. "I-I don' know what happened . . . I was jus' takin' a shower."
"Did you fall?" Hutch questioned, "Other than your abdomen, do you hurt anywhere else . . . like your head maybe?" the blond asked perceptively, handing the hot cup of tea to his partner.
Starsky lowered his eyes and took a few sips from the mug, feeling its soothing warmth beginning to take the edge off of the pounding pain in his head, calming his frazzled nerves. "I didn't fall and I'm not hurt anywhere else Hutch." The brunet took another sip of tea while the blond waited patiently for him to continue, "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I saw something Hutch . . . I-I saw a young girl get murdered." Starsky hesitantly peeped up at his partner under his long, dark lashes, to see the blond's reaction. All that he saw in his friend's pale, blue eyes were only compassion and a willingness to try and understand whatever it was that was troubling his partner.
"You had another vision?" Hutch asked gently, seeing the skeptical look that crossed over his friend's face.
Starsky snorted softly, "Don' know if I'd call 'em visions . . . I ain't no psychic," the brunet scoffed.
"Didn't say you were pal," Hutch said gently, his soft voice calming the uncomfortable brunet. "So you 'saw' this girl get murdered . . ."
"She was walkin' in the dark by herself and was dragged into some bushes . . ." Starsky began, his voice growing softer as his eyes drifted off into the distance as he remembered the horrific event, "Her assailant had a knife . . . sh-she was stabbed repeatedly in the gut and was left there t'die . . . all alone." The brunet took in a shuddering breath, sickened by the image of her dying there in the rain, so cold and alone, regretfully wishing she'd had her sweater.
Starsky felt his partner's hand on his wrist, silently urging him to continue, "Every time that bastard stuck that blade in her belly, I . . . I felt it Hutch," the brunet raised stormy blue eyes to his partner's face, his soft voice was sad and forlorn, "I felt everythin' that she did . . . her fear, her pain, her loneliness as she lay dyin' . . . it was raining Hutch . . . and she was so cold . . ." The brunet shivered as he raised the trembling cup to his lips.
Hutch felt his skin rise in bumps as his partner's soft voice painted a picture in his mind. "You felt the knife as it entered her body?" Hutch could picture the bruises on his partner's abdomen . . .
"Yeah . . . only it was like it was happenin' to me too," Starsky said softly, "Now I know what it feels like to be stabbed . . . to death . . ." he finished morbidly.
Hutch felt physically sick as he thought of the agony his partner had just experienced. An image of his friend curled up on the cold tiled floor came to mind. What was going on here? Why was this happening? Hutch rested a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder, not really knowing what to say, when the brunet's soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
"I um . . . I didn't tell ya this before, but there's somethin' more Hutch . . ." Starsky whispered softly, feeling the blond's large hand as it squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Every time these weird images come . . . I . . . ah . . . I hear a voice."
"A voice?" Hutch repeated softly, his eyes narrowing slightly, "What kind of voice?"
"Jus' a voice . . . it's always calm and soft . . . I always hear it right after I see those sick pictures in my head." The brunet said, lowering his eyes once again to the mug he held in his hands.
"W-What does this voice say to you?" Hutch queried, "I mean you said you hear it whenever you get these visions . . . do you remember what it says?"
Starsky hated to hear that word 'visions' . . . like he was something weird . . . like a prophet or a seer. He wished Hutch would stop using it. It gave him the creeps! The brunet sighed, "This last time, the voice said, 'Save her,'" Starsky whispered, "The other time . . . with the school bus . . . it said, 'Help them."
"Is it a male or female voice that you're hearing?" Hutch asked. The brunet looked up to see if his partner was serious. Noting the solemn expression on the blond's face, he slowly continued.
"I dunno . . . never really paid much attention to that . . . I-I think it's a guy's voice," Starsky shrugged lamely, "Didn't think that would matter . . ." The dark blue eyes looked down once again.
"I'm not saying it does matter, buddy," Hutch replied, "Just wondering . . . that's all."
Starsky drew in a shuddering breath and raised his eyes to the blond, "I'm scared Hutch," the brunet said softly, his voice quivering slightly. Gone was the tough street cop, replaced in its stead, by the little boy persona that never failed to melt the blond's heart.
"Hey . . ." Hutch said gently, putting his arm around the brunet's shoulders and dragging his partner closer to him, "I don't know what's happening buddy . . . but I'm right here . . . and we'll deal with this like we deal with everything else . . . together . . .okay?"
The brunet nodded wearily, "'Kay."
"Look, we'll attack it from both ends," Hutch said, attempting to keep his voice bright and positive, "I'll go and see Dr. Bradford tomorrow about those headaches of yours, and maybe you can call Joe Collandra . . ."
"Collandra?" Starsky whined, "Why him? I never trusted the guy."
"We got nothing to lose . . ." Hutch smiled, "We'll just take this one step at a time buddy . . . maybe Collandra can give us some advice in an area where we have no knowledge about, just as the doc can help us on a medical level."
"Yeah . . . t'rrific" Starsky grouched good-naturedly, stifling a big yawn. Hutch smiled and ruffled his partner's unruly curls. With all that had happened, it was hard to believe that his partner had only been released from the hospital this morning.
"You look like shit, buddy." Hutch grinned, "Go to bed already . . . get some rest."
"You stayin'?" Dark blue eyes expressed everything that his words did not. Hutch knew his partner was jumpy . . . this whole paranormal experience was freaking the brunet out . . . hell; it was freaking him out too! Nothing in their lives had ever prepared them for something like this and Hutch knew Starsky wanted him to stay close.
Hutch snorted, "Where else would I go dummy?" He smiled as he saw the corners of his partner's mouth lift into a lopsided grin.
"You can have my bed . . ." the brunet offered generously, grateful that his big blond friend would be watching his back like always.
Hutch snorted, "Just go to sleep Gordo, I'll be right outside on your 'comfortable' couch!"
To be continued . . .
