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 TEN

(Starsky's place, late afternoon)

Hutch stood outside Starsky's front door, hearing the muted groans coming from within. He quickly reached for his magnum from his holster, his street-wise survival sense kicked into high gear, as he pushed down the fear he felt for his partner. The blond detective quietly opened the door and crouched, his gun aimed and ready. What he saw made him momentarily freeze where he stood, his mind trying to comprehend what was happening.

Starsky lay curled on the floor, his arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, gasping in pain, rigidly jolting as if he were being pummeled by something unseen. Joe Collandra was there, crouched above him, murmuring to him calmly, his hand on his partner's shoulder.

Hutch rushed to his partner's side and knelt next to the hurting man. It pained the blond greatly to see his partner in such distress, and he gently held onto the gasping brunet who lay curled in a fetal position, his rigid body violently shuddering in pain every few seconds. The way his partner had his arm wrapped protectively against his mid-section, it was obvious that that was the source of his agony.

"Ungh," Starsky groaned softly again, his body curling tighter into the pain as he clutched his stomach.

"Take it easy buddy . . . I'm here now . . . just try and take it easy . . ." Hutch softly soothed, holding his partner's rigid form against his own body, rubbing gently against the cold and clammy skin of the brunet. His partner's breathing was too shallow and rapid, and Hutch feared for the brunet's compromised lung, but he smiled encouragingly when Starsky grasped onto the sleeve of his jacket. "Shh, just hang on buddy, I've got you . . ."

"He's here . . ." Hutch heard an eerie whisper next to him.

The blond looked to Collandra who was crouched beside him, his hand still on Starsky's shoulder, his eyes closed as beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Hutch could feel the hairs rise on his neck as the psychic's voice was heard, growing louder as he spoke, "He's h-here . . . with Starsky . . . darkness, no good, no good . . . EVIL!" Joe shuddered and convulsed, his hand breaking the connection he had with the brunet's shoulder, as Starsky groaned softly once more, and then his breathing started to slowly even out, though his clenched fist still pressed down against his abdomen.

Hutch gently stroked back the dark curls from his partner's forehead. He glanced quickly at Collandra who slowly rose and quietly sat back down at the table.

"Hey buddy," Hutch murmured softly, seeing the long, dark lashes fluttering open to reveal dazed blue orbs, "I've got you . . . everything's gonna be alright . . . just take it easy Starsk . . . take it easy."

The dark haired detective took in a shuddering breath. Every joint in his body ached and the pain in his gut was excruciating. "Hutch?" he gasped weakly, trying to focus on the golden blur swaying above him, "That you?" he said, squinting to bring his partner's face into view.

"Yeah it's me," the blond smiled gently, "You don't look too great though buddy . . ." He briskly rubbed the chill from his partner's arms, as the brunet closed his eyes wearily.

"What the hell happened here?" Hutch demanded, looking at the older man who sat holding his head in his hand, carefully keeping his voice soft, not wanting to aggravate the wounded man who lay in his arms.

"He had another vision," the psychic said softly, lifting his eyes to the blond's, "I tried to help him through it . . ."

"You tried to help him?" Hutch said interjected quickly. Though his voice remained soft, one didn't need to be a psychic to know the blond was angry. "You call this helping Joe?"

"Look," Collandra said defensively, "I don't know . . .I don't know what happened here. I gotta go . . . it was a mistake to come . . ."

"No . . .don't," the brunet gasped, struggling to sit up. Hutch gently supported his partner into a seated position, his arm never leaving Starsky's shoulder. "I need you Joe . . . I know where she's gonna be attacked . . . it hasn't happened yet, and we need to stop it."

"You can't stop it," Joe said softly, "It's already happening as we speak . . . she might be already on the bus . . . and we don't know what bus . . ."

"Yeah, but we know . . . where she'll be getting' off" Starsky said weakly, "We can intercept her . . . before anything goes down. In my head, it was already dark when she gets pulled into the bushes . . . the light from the streetlights reflect against the blade . . ."

The brunet shuddered imperceptibly, but Hutch felt it and gently squeezed his partner's shoulder.

The brunet turned slowly to look at wall clock, "It's 4:25 right now . . . that gives us a couple of more hours before it gets dark."

"Where does she get off Starsk?" Hutch gently asked, concerned about his partner's pale complexion and clammy skin. These were all signs of shock, but he knew the brunet well enough to know that Starsky wasn't going into shock, although his breathing still seemed a bit rapid and shallow.

"On Fourth and Maple," Starsky said softly, his bright blue gaze seemed almost vacant, seeing something no one else could, "I saw the street signs through her eyes, when she was lookin' around, sensing danger . . ." The blond watched as his partner's blank stare turned stormy and determined; the cobalt spheres shifted and connected with the pale blue of the Nordic, the dark blue gaze almost pleading as the brunet said, "Hutch . . . we gotta help her . . . the voice said to save her . . ."

"That's another thing . . ." Both detectives turned at the sound of the soft, despairing voice of Collandra, "That voice . . . I-I thought that maybe it came from a benevolent source, but it's . . . it's not . . . good . . . it's evil . . . and it wants you Starsky . . . it's after you."

"What?" Hutch said, feeling a chill race up his spine at the psychic's foreboding words, his natural instincts to shield and protect his vulnerable partner, rose to the forefront, "What voice? You mean that calm voice you always hear at the end of your visions?" The blond questioned quietly, turning to look down into his partner's eyes, "The voice you were telling me about last night?" Hutch asked, the furrow between his brows deepening with the worry he felt for the brunet.

"Yeah . . . hey, help me up, would ya?" Starsky asked trying to change the subject, wincing as his partner moved to gently tug him up under his arms. Starsky wound one arm tightly against his mid-section, gasping softly as Hutch helped him stand. The brunet gritted his teeth and struggled to stand straight, when he instinctively wanted to fold over, the pain in this stomach intensified by the pulling movement. Starsky knew that Hutch wouldn't allow him to tag along on their "rescue" if his partner knew how much pain he was in, and damn if he wasn't going to be there. The dark haired detective knew his mid-section was probably covered with bruises again and he hoped his partner wouldn't demand to see it, especially not in front of Joe Collandra.

"How do you know this voice is from someone evil?" Hutch asked Joe, not willing to drop the issue just yet, even though he knew his partner wanted to lead him away from the subject, "I mean how do you know this person is after Starsky?"

"I don't know," Joe said, "It was just a feeling . . . this entity had a negative force about it . . . I felt physically sick when I heard him whisper to . . ."

"You could hear him whisper to Starsky?" Hutch said; pale blue eyes shifted to his partner who sat carefully down on the sofa, his hand still across his stomach. Hutch knew his friend was hurting, although he acted like everything was just hunky-dory. 'The man should win an award!' Hutch thought sarcastically.

"Not really "hear" like how your friend does," Collandra said, nodding to the silent brunet, "More like I "sensed" the negative energy flooding into Starsky. Your partner says the voice is soft and calm, but I tell you this . . . I have felt nothing that dark in a long, long time."

Starsky heaved a heavy sigh, "In any case, let's try to solve something we can physically see . . . the girl . . ."

"Right," Hutch said, his mind still focused on what Collandra had just said about "the voice." It unnerved the blond that something so vile and negative had access to his partner. How do you fight something you cannot see? Hutch looked over at his partner who still looked pale and drawn, weary lines of exhaustion were evident in that familiar face and it pulled at Hutch's heart.

"Okay, you said she was at Fourth and Maple right?" Hutch said brightly, trying to bring the twinkle back into his partner's eye, "That's clear across town. If we're gonna be there by sundown, we better get a move on it."

"Shouldn't you call the police department to send some squad cars over right now?" Collandra asked.

"Based on what?" Starsky said softly, " Our hunches? I don't think they would send cars over just on that, and anyway, if the killer sees those black and whites, he'll run for sure. If we miss him this time, he'll just go out and kill again."

"We have to be there first, staked out somewhere near the bus stop so we can see her get off the bus, watch her to make sure that she stays safe the whole time, then we nab the guy and book him once he grabs her." Hutch said explained, still eyeing his partner. The blond could hear the weariness in Starsky's voice and he silently debated if he should let the brunet come with him.

Starsky looked up at Hutch right at that point, as if he could read the thoughts in his partner's mind. The weariness in the brunet's eyes was suddenly replaced with blue steel, "Let's go." he said quietly, emphasizing the first word, staring his partner down until the blond begrudgingly nodded his assent.

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

Thursday (early evening)

It had already been drizzling for a while and Starsky had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stared out of the dirty windshield of Hutch's rambling LTD, as the wipers moved back and forth almost hypnotically. Hutch had insisted that they take his car for the stake out . . . pointing out the fact that it would be more inconspicuous than the outlandishly red and white Torino.

They were late; held back by the traffic on the freeway, due to several minor accidents and curious drivers, who slowed down to crane their necks and gawk at the misfortune of others. They had finally taken the off exit that would bring them shortly up to Maple Street.

"How much longer?" Collandra asked from the backseat of the car. The psychic had insisted on coming and had ridden silently in the back, mirroring the mood of the dark haired detective in the front.

"We should be there in another five minutes," Hutch said, keeping one eye on the passing street signs, the other on his dark haired friend.

Hutch glanced over at his unusually quiet partner. Since leaving the apartment, the brunet had hardly spoken two words, brooding silently, as he slouched in the front passenger seat, seemingly staring out at nothing, the shadow from the blades of the wipers intermittently darkened his features, as the LTD continuously passed under the lights from the streets. "You okay buddy?" Hutch asked softly, "How's your stomach? Still hurting?"

Starsky immediately slid his hand off of his mid-section. He did hurt, in fact, he hurt all over . . . from the slight drumming in his head, to the aching nausea he felt in his gut, but hell if he was going to tell Hutch that. The curly haired man silently shook his head, not even bothering to answer.

The fact that it was already drizzling worried the brunet immensely. He thought of the young girl in his vision. She couldn't have been older than nineteen or twenty at the most. He remembered how her long platinum tresses curled becomingly around her petite face and how she had worried about what the rain would do to her curls. He closed his eyes, as the throbbing pain in his head suddenly began to pound, he could feel his heart begin to accelerate. "Hutch," Starsky said softly, "Speed up . . . we gotta step on it . . ." The dark haired detective lifted his left hand to press against his aching temple.

"Hurry!" He heard the "voice" whisper quietly in his head as a blinding glare flashed behind his tightly closed lids. By now, he knew the telltale signs . . . another vision was coming . . .

Starsky doubled over suddenly, his arms wrapped around his abdomen as the excruciating pain stabbed into his gut, "Uungh," he moaned, cold sweat beading his face, "Oh god Hutch," the dark haired detective gasped in agony, his face pale; blue eyes staring vacantly, focused inward on some horrible thing only he could "see," until his eyes scrunched shut again as another wave of pain pummeled into him. "Hurry . . ." Starsky gasped, his breathing rapid and shallow, "He's g-got her . . ."

Hutch steered with his left hand; his right arm reached over, trying to support his partner as the brunet curled his body into the pain, "Starsk . . ." the blond said, desperation and concern evident in that one uttered word, his foot automatically lifting off the accelerator, slowing the vehicle down, so that he could pull over to the side to render aid to his friend. It killed Hutch to see his partner in so much pain.

"No!" Collandra said sharply, "Don't slow down, there's nothing you can do to help him, until you've helped her. Keep going Hutch . . .look for some hedges along the street . . . the killer pulled her into the bushes . . ."

Hutch knew Joe was right, hearing the psychic's voice as if from a distance, his ears filled only with the labored breathing of his friend, as Starsky's rigid body jolted once more, a soft moan escaping from his lips. It tore at the blond's heart to see the brunet suffering like that and he reached over and snagged his partner to his side, feeling the tremors that wracked his friend's body as Starsky leaned heavily against him. Hutch put his free arm around his partner's shoulder and rubbed soothingly, trying to comfort his dark haired companion, even as he increased the speed of the car.

"Over there!" Collandra said sharply, pointing to the dark bushes that lined the sidewalk, "She's behind that hedge . . ."

Hutch swerved the car to the edge of the sidewalk and slammed the vehicle into park, whipping his door open at the same time. "Stay here Starsk!" the blond demanded, gently untangling himself from his partner and pushing his hurting friend back against the seat.

Starsky opened his eyes to see Hutch running out into the rain filled night, his blond head seemed to glow hazily, a beacon in the darkness, as the dim lights from the streets highlighted his golden locks. "H-Hutch," Starsky gasped, slowly scrambling over the seat towards the open door, determined to watch his partner's back. The pain in his abdomen was unbearable, and he gritted his teeth to get a handle on it, even as he fell to the cold, wet sidewalk. He felt a strong grip grab him and pull him up to his feet, sending sharp stabs of pain into his gut.

"Here . . . hang on to me . . .let's go," Collandra said, supporting the weight of the hurting detective, as they hurried after the blond, as fast as they could.

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

Hutch drew his gun and ran through the pelting rain, squinting as the water blurred his vision. He could see something crouched in the shadow from the hedges, a dark mass that quickly rose and started running away, leaving a smaller shape behind.

The blond raced over and slid to his knees next to the girl, who lay gasping, her eyes closed, as her blood covered fingers clutched at her torn and shredded mid-section, her pale, blond hair was matted with leaves and dirt, and splatters of blood dotted her face, while a thin, red trail leaked from the corner of her mouth.

"Oh god," Hutch whispered, sickened by all the blood. A part of him wanted to give chase and catch the bastard that did this, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave her. He lifted his hands helplessly, not knowing where to touch, as the girl groaned, twisting into the pain that ripped into her battered body. "Take it easy," Hutch murmured, stroking back the wet strands of hair from her face. He looked up, as Starsky and Collandra knelt beside him. Hutch looked to his friend who still had an arm wrapped around his stomach, his dark blue eyes were glued on the girl, a look of anguish on his face.

Hutch stood quickly, "Stay here, he's probably long gone by now, but I'm gonna check around and then . . . I-I gotta call for an ambulance."

Starsky vaguely heard what his partner said; his only focus was for the young girl, lying in a pool of her own blood . . . the same girl he saw in his vision. She was dying . . . he could "feel" it and it tore a sob from the brunet's throat. She cried out in pain, her body growing rigid, as her watery blue eyes opened and stared, her vacant gaze was glassy and distant.

Starsky hovered over her trembling form, shielding her as best he could from the cold, falling splashes of rain. "Shh . . it's okay . . . it's gonna be okay," he whispered sadly, knowing it would never be okay, not for this young girl who would never see another sun rise.

The young woman shifted her gaze to the brunet, her dazed eyes focusing gradually upon his face. "C-Cold . . ." she gasped, shivering as a rivulet of water ran from the corner of her eye.

Starsky took off his old, brown leather jacket and gently lifted her against the warmth of his chest, spreading the jacket that was still toasty from his own body heat, over her trembling form so that she lay sandwiched in warmth. He remembered from his vision, how she regretted not bringing her sweater and he held her tighter, "I got'cha honey," he murmured softly, his long dark lashes were spiked with moisture, his soul crying out silently in agony and remorse, knowing he had failed her . . . she was dying because of him, and that knowledge tore him up inside. He should've figured it out sooner . . . they should've left his apartment the minute he got the vision . . .

"I got'cha," he sadly repeated as he watched her close her eyes, "I'm here honey . . . you're not alone . . . you were never alone . . ." he soothed brokenly. The curly haired brunet tucked his head against her hair and clutched her close, as she took in her last breath, her small body going limp in his arms, as her head lolled towards his chest.

"You're too late . . . again." the voice whispered, it's calm intonation was almost a mockery to the burning, piercing arrow of regret the brunet felt in his heart. "No . . ." Starsky whispered, rocking her still body as Hutch dropped to kneel next to him.

The blond detective looked up at Joe who sadly shook his head. Pale, blue eyes shifted back to the brunet, who continued to rock the dead girl, his face hidden as he bowed his dark head over the sweet, still face that was pressed against his chest, his shoulders shaking silently, as the rain continued to fall from the sky, like tears from heaven.

To be continued….