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 EIGHT

(Thursday, early morning hours)

He bolted upright in bed, as he drew in another ragged breath, his breathing rapid and shallow. He shivered as the cold sweat ran down his back and he clenched his fists tightly, to force the trembling from his hands. His detective's mind tried to piece together what it was that had made him wake in such a manner and he shuddered as he remembered the muffled screams from the girl and the flashing, downward thrust from the sharp blade.

His bedroom was dark and quiet, but he could still hear the echo of that soft voice in his head, "Save her . . ." Starsky dragged his fingers through his damp curls and glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. 4:36 am. He willfully tried to slow down this breathing, his arms and chest glistening from the fine sheen of perspiration that coated his skin.

Starsky glanced down at his mid-section, not surprised to see that the bruising and discoloration from last night had vanished, even though his insides still felt raw and tender. He untangled the beddings from his legs and slowly turned to sit on the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees, as he held his throbbing head in his hands. A part of him wanted to wake his partner, to seek comfort and reassurance in that warm voice of reason, and yet, he hated to burden Hutch with his troubles.

After all, the blond had suffered right alongside him the whole time he was in a comatose state. Though Hutch had never voiced his feelings about watching his best friend slipping away, Starsky knew that the whole experience had rattled the blond.

The brunet snorted in the dark. 'Maybe that's why I put up with his mother hen antics,' Starsky thought, a slow grin tipping the corners of his mouth. It was all part of the same healing dance they always participated in, when either of them had been gravely hurt or wounded . . . the need to comfort and touch helped to heal both men at the same time.

Starsky silently pondered over Hutch's words of advice . . . maybe his friend was right . . . maybe he needed to go and speak with Collandra. Yet, the thought of seeing that man gave the brunet pause. Joe was a nice guy and all, but a part of Starsky wanted to stay clear of that man. There was something about Joe Collandra that gave the brunet the willies. How did he know where to find that girl in time?

The way that man held onto his head, gasping and almost screaming as he shared his 'visions', had seemed bizarre and staged to the brunet, almost comical to say the least, and Starsky wanted no part of that.

And yet, what if Collandra was legit? Perhaps Joe could shed some light into this whole dark mess he had suddenly found himself in the middle of. He rubbed the ache in his temples as his eyes slid to the door, watching as it quietly opened to his darkened room. A small grin tipped his mouth, as the dim glow from the streetlights outside caught the golden locks of his partner, when he poked his head through the doorway.

"Hey . . ." Starsky called out softly in the dark, "What'cha doin' up?"

"Thought I heard something . . . just wanted to see if you were okay." The blond walked to the bed and sat beside the brunet, "Head still hurting?"

"A little." Starsky said stoically, "Go back to bed Hutch . . . 'm fine."

"Yeah, that why you're sitting up in the dark, rubbing your temples . . . sweating all over the place?" the blond asked sarcastically, " I don't have to be a psychic to know that you're not fine buddy." Hutch said softly.

Starsky's glared at his friend, "If that's your idea of a joke, then I don't see the humor in it!" the brunet grumbled in reference to his partner's use of that dreaded "P" word.

Hutch snorted softly, then said more seriously, "Had another dream?" The blond watched as his dark haired partner sighed and shifted his gaze to his lap. "Pretty bad huh?"

"Yeah," Starsky whispered, "Heard that voice again . . . tellin' me to save that girl." Starksy turned his head to look at his partner, "I made a decision . . . gonna call that nutcase Collandra tomorrow, when you go to see the doctor."

Hutch smiled and put his arm around the brunet's shoulders. He knew his friend didn't want to see Joe, but maybe talking to the psychic would help to ease his mind. "I think it's a great idea Starsk."

"Yeah? You would. It was your idea dummy!" Starsky grinned, scooting over on the bed to make room for the big blond, who immediately lay down on the firm mattress. It felt wonderful to his aching back after lying for hours on Starsky's unbearably soft couch. There were many times the partners shared a bed in the past, for one reason or another, and Hutch knew Starsky needed him now without him having to ask for it. "Goodnight buddy. Get some sleep huh?" the blond whispered softly in the dark.

"Yeah," Starsky whispered back, his tense body slowly unwinding, feeling safe, now that his partner's warm solid form lay next to him, "Thanks Hutch . . ." he said softly.

Hutch snorted softly, pressing his cheek into the pillow, as he turned to his partner in the dark, smelling the soft scent of sandalwood in the pillowcase his partner had just been laying on, "I should be thanking you . . . you're doing my back a favor . . . now go to sleep, Gordo!"

"Yes ma!" the brunet said obediently, giving a mock salute in the dark; long dark lashes closing contentedly, to the soft chuckling of the blond.

-.-.-.-oo0oo.-.-.-.-

(Thursday afternoon, Starsky's place)

Starsky carefully rinsed the mug and put it in the rack to dry. Hutch had left over an hour ago and the brunet had reluctantly called Joe Collandra, after giving his partner his word to do so. The dark haired detective pondered over the strange phone call as he absently soaped up another dish . . .

"Hello?" the owner of the JC Café spoke brusquely into the receiver.

"Uh . . . is ah . . . Joe Collandra there?" Starsky asked hesitantly, wanting to kick Hutch for making him promise to call, already feeling uncomfortable and stupid, wondering what he would say to a man whom he hadn't seen, or spoken to, in years.

"Well it's about time you called," Joe said loudly, "And yes, I know who you are . . . been waiting for you to call, Starsky."

"W-What?" Starsky stammered, "How did ya kn . . ."

"How did I know that you'd call? Gee, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out . . . I'm a psychic . . . remember?" Collandra said sarcastically, "Whether you want to believe it or not, that's up to you. You can remain skeptical all you like, but I know the reason you're calling me . . ."

The dark haired detective was speechless, his mind still trying to comprehend what Joe had just said. It floored the brunet that Collandra already knew that he'd be calling beforehand, and that he knew who he was before he even identified himself.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer here . . ." Joe said impatiently. "Is it a yes or a no?"

"Wha'?" the bewildered brunet questioned, knowing he had missed Collandra's one-sided conversation, his mind still stuck on trying to figure out how the man knew who he was. "Sorry I musta missed your question . . ."

"I said, do you want me to come over or not . . . can you drive yet after your coma?" Joe asked abruptly. "If you haven't been cleared to drive that striped tomato of yours, then I'll come over."

Starsky hadn't been cleared to drive and though he had tried to beg out of it, not wanting to talk to Collandra without Hutch there with him for some reason; Joe insisted that it was no problem and that he was coming over. Before they hung up, Collandra had his address and was ready to head out to his place . . .

The brunet wiped down his counters and looked into the refrigerator seeing the untouched pizza from last night. At least he had something to serve his unwelcome guest when he arrived. Starsky quickly fixed up the couch that Hutch had tossed and turned on, and folded up the crocheted quilt, a gift from his ma. It was only after the blond had climbed into bed with him last night, that Starsky could finally close his eyes and get some much-needed rest.

Starsky snorted softly to himself. If anyone had seen them sprawled out on the same bed this morning, limbs entwined, unconsciously seeking each other's body heat during the night, they would have immediately jumped to conclusions, and would have made assumptions as to the detectives sexual preferences. Starsky grinned at that.

They were just two normal men with healthy appetites for female companionship; who also shared an incredible bond of love and friendship with each other that many people just didn't understand. Everyone was so quick to want to label their relationship, presuming the worse, which made the brunet chuckle out loud, 'Well . . . if that ever happened,' Starsky silently thought, 'Then I better be the one on the top!' He snorted loudly, grossed out by the image that popped in his mind, when two quick knocks were heard at the door.

The brunet sauntered over to the entrance, opened it and eyed the older man warily. They stood there for a minute giving each other the once over.

"So what? You gonna leave me standing out here or invite me in?" Joe Collandra asked curtly.

"Oh, sorry . . ." the brunet said, opening the door wider in a silent invitation for the man to enter his apartment. Joe Collandra walked in slowly, taking a look around the neat living room.

Starsky cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the awkward silence that permeated the room. "Ah . . . can I um, get you somethin' to drink . . . or eat? I got pizza . . . I can warm it up for ya . . ."

Joe's brown eyes fixed knowingly at the dark haired detective. "Last night's dinner?"

"Somethin' like that," Starsky murmured, "Want some beer?"

"Nah, I never drink while the sun is up," Collandra said, sitting down on the couch. "Your partner around?"

"Left about an hour ago. Had to do some errands." Starsky said vaguely, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. They sat there for a minute or so, the silence stretching out uncomfortably. Starsky didn't know what to say or where to start . . .

"Just start from when you came out of the coma . . ." Collandra said softly, to the surprise of the brunet.

"Hey, just how did ya know I was in a coma?" Starsky asked, his brow rose slightly, as he stared at the older man who sat calmly on the couch.

"A couple of weeks ago, Huggy came by the café to visit me . . . I must of 'picked up' on you, from him." Collandra said, "Since then, you've been making guest appearances in my head . . . popping in and out every now and then . . . knew you'd be calling me . . . just didn't know when."

Starsky's nod was barely perceptible as he eyed the man across from him. It gave him the creeps to hear Collandra saying those things . . . 'knowing' he was in a coma and that he'd been starring in some of Collandra's visions just blew his mind!

Joe looked at the silent detective and grinned, "Hey, it weren't no picnic for me either! Never thought I'd see you again . . . especially in my head." Collandra chuckled out loud, then stopped, when he heard the brunet softly sigh. "Hey, lighten up! So you're seeing stuff in your head . . . get used to it. It'll come whether you want it to or not . . . take it from me."

"But my question is, how the hell did this happen and why is it happening now?" Starsky said, his voice rising slightly in frustration.

"Probably from that knock you took to your head. Must've juggled that brain of yours into working on a different level," Collandra answered calmly, "I was eight when I started getting visions. Fell off my grandpa's roof and put a hole in my head. I woke up, after sleeping for 2 weeks, and I could see things. Freaked me out at first, but you learn to live with it."

Starsky stared wide-eyed at the café owner, surprised by his nonchalant attitude towards the whole thing. To the brunet, this whole sudden "awareness" was an ordeal that he wanted no part of! "I don' wanna live with it, how do I get rid of it?" Starsky said gruffly.

"Well at least you're not in denial anymore," Joe laughed, while the brunet's frown grew deeper. "Okay, okay . . . no need to get upset. You're going through something that, believe it or not, every single one of us innately has . . . psychic ability. It's just that some of us are more developed at using it, than others."

"No wait a minute . . ." Collandra said quickly, raising his hand to the curly haired detective when he knew he was about to object, "Just think about it for a minute, would you?" The older man waited until he had the full attention of the detective.

"Take you and that partner of yours . . . you have a close relationship, in and outside of work . . ." Collandra continued.

Starsky refrained from blushing, silently wondering if Joe 'knew' that they had slept in the same bed together just last night. 'If he knew that, then he would also know that it was purely innocent,' the brunet silently thought.

"Hello? Are you even paying attention here?" Although Collandra said this sarcastically, there was a slight smile to his lips that unnerved the brunet. "Like I was saying, you and your partner have a special chemistry that flows between you like a . . . like a current . . . like a psychic cord that binds the two of you together. I feel it whenever the both of you are with me." Joe spoke softly, "It's probably what keeps you two alive on the streets . . . you're able to sense what your partner is going to do, without him even telling you and visa versa . . . am I right?" Joe looked expectantly at the silent detective.

Starsky nodded silently. He had always known that he and Hutch shared this special link, hell the whole department knew of it . . . how they were almost able to read each other's minds at times with just a look, finishing each other's sentences without thinking about it, able to sense each other's moods and empathize with each other's feelings. As corny as it sounded, Starsky knew that Hutch was the other half to his soul. "So . . . what of it?" the brunet asked, "Lots of people have hunches now and then."

"That's right! That's what I mean when I say that we all have the ability to sense things. What you and your partner have together might be considered "psychic" to many people, and now with what's happening to you, your ability has just gone to a higher, more enhanced level, above the level of intuition, so to speak."

"So you never answered my question . . . how do I get rid of it?" Starsky queried.

Collandra sighed, "For most people, their newfound abilities will stay with them for their whole lives. I've only known two people who lost their acquired "sight" . . . one of them because of a head injury, the other because of a high fever that caused some damage to her brain." After a moment's pause, the older man said, "So, you want to tell me about some of the things you're seeing?"

Starsky stared at Joe, not quite sure if he trusted the man enough to be open with him about his recent disturbing experiences into this strange and surreal realm. The brunet lowered his eyes to his hands, "Saw that school bus accident that happened yesterday." Starsky said softly, hesitantly, lifting his stormy blue cobalt eyes to the psychic.

Joe stared solemnly back at the dark haired detective, then heaved a heavy sigh. "You know any of those kids on the bus? Sometimes when we are close to someone, the visions become more vivid . . ."

The brunet shook his head, "Nah, didn't know any kid on that bus . . . but there was this little girl . . . I could tell that sh-she was dead, but she looked at me and said that I was too late." Starsky shuddered slightly, remembering her vacant, cold stare, once again feeling the guilt of not being able to stop the little girl from being killed.

The psychic stared strangely into the detective's ocean blue depths, "Gave you the spooks huh? In the beginning, when I first started to "see", these images would make me want to pee in my pants!" the older man empathized, "So you said she spoke to you huh? Well, we now know that vision happened for sure. Did you see anything else?"

Starsky looked at Joe, and read the compassion in his eyes, although his words seemed almost nonchalant. And yet, for Collandra, these kinds of things were probably an everyday occurrence. If Joe's visions were as bad or as graphic as the ones he was getting, it was no wonder why the man seemed almost removed from the whole issue.

Starsky guessed that it was like being a cop; you sort of remove yourself mentally and emotionally from the horrific things that you saw on the streets to keep yourself sane and balanced. Both he and Hutch knew many cops who would often crack jokes about the corpses they found, but everyone knew that it was just 'black humor', and it was just their way of coping with the tragedy.

Starsky drew in a deep breath, "Yeah . . . I saw something else last night after takin' a shower," the brunet looked at Joe, then looked away. "I saw a young girl being murdered. She was walking home and was dragged into the bushes. She was so scared . . . he had a knife, and she was feelin' so lonely and cold as she lay there dying after he was through with her . . ."

Collandra stared at the curly haired detective, straining to hear his words, as the brunet's voice got softer and softer towards the end of his telling. For a minute silence ensued, then the psychic said, "Do you think this murder has already happened?"

Starsky looked Collandra in the eye, "Dunno," he said quietly, "Don't seem to know nuthin' anymore . . . I mean, what the hell is happenin' here Joe?" the brunet's voice rose again in frustration. The detective stood up and began to pace, "I feel helpless . . . like I'm just a silent witness to these horrible things, I-I can't even warn them about what's comin' and it's driving me crazy!"

"Sit down Starsky," Joe said calmly, "And you're not helpless . . . because I'm gonna teach you!"

To be continued . . .