Chapter 3

It took another three days for Starsky to begin to wake up. During that long time, Hutch sat by his bedside all day and for most of the nights, his back aching on the chair. He was afraid to move away, even the relatively short distance to the bed, in case he missed a small movement or twitch. Traff too kept his vigil since he'd finally been allowed to get out of bed and move around slowly, although the doctor had told him not to expect miracles. His body had taken a battering and he needed to give it time to heal.

The nurses had been and removed the stitches from the wound on Starsky's abdomen, leaving a tramline pattern of red dots against the still tanned skin. The brunette had moaned slightly at the process, but had shown no other signs of life. All the burns down his side had been left uncovered to aid recovery and although not pretty, Mark, the doctor assured Hutch that in time they would fade and leave no lasting scars. For that, the blond as grateful. Starsky had collected too many scars in his relatively brief life and the shiny red areas down his flank looked angry and sore, marring the otherwise tanned skin. All that remained of the apparatus which had surrounded the sick detective was the drip still inserted into the back of his left hand. The respirator, blood pressure cuff and heart monitor had been taken away and for the first time, the brunette looked relatively peaceful in his bed.

Hutch of course was the first to notice the slight movement of the eyes beneath the almost translucent eyelids and knew from bitter experience that before long he'd get to see the familiar indigo again. He took a hold of the hand lying still on the bed sheet by his side and waited patiently. Traff too had seen the signs, but had padded quietly back to his bed, not wanting to intrude on the moment Hutch had been longing for for so long. Slowly, the eye movement became more persistent and the hand held in the big blond grip started to twitch.

It wasn't for another couple of hours, however, that Starsky decided that he really aught to put an appearance into the big wide world again. During his coma he'd dreamed a lot. He'd gone back to his favourite haunt at Martha's Vineyard; the spot that Hutch had found him on so long ago. The brunette had spent long hours there, with the dog for company as he'd looked out to sea and waited in vain for Hutch to turn up again, so that he could talk to his partner. Starsky had felt safe in his little haven and when Hutch was there he felt more at peace than he had done for a long time. Even when the pain had become unbearable, he'd been able to retreat to his private spot and be with his friend and partner, taking a little solace from the interaction and the peace and quiet.

And then the torture had stopped.

After that there had still been pain, but it was different. This pain was dulled by drugs and he knew on a basic level that he was no longer in the church and that people were beginning to look after him. But he didn't wish to join them in their real world any longer. He felt their hands on his body; gentle hands that were cool and soothed him. He felt warm and safe in his haven and hugged it to him like a safety blanket, wrapping it round his body to protect himself from further hurt. The only thing that was missing from the peace and tranquillity was his flaxen haired partner. He felt oddly incomplete without the Nordic presence, needing the comfort of the velvet soft voice.

Starsky had sat on the headland waiting for Hutch to come back for him and take him to somewhere he wouldn't hurt again, but the blond never came back and he was beginning to feel lonely and abandoned. And so he made a conscious decision that he would try to make his way back into the land of the living and see if he could find Hutch another way. It took a great effort and cost him dearly. The closer to consciousness he came the more pain he felt and several times he retreated a little back into the mist until he could cope with the new sensations. Then he advanced a tiny way further, always careful and more than a little apprehensive.

What if he was really still at the church? What if Quinn and Ryan still had him and this was an elaborate trick? What if they were going to start all over again? Worse still, what if there really were four lights? He shivered at the thought, but something made him press on, knowing he couldn't hide for ever. He needed to find Hutch again.

Very slowly the indigo eyes cracked open a little and Starsky took his first cautious look at his surroundings. He closed them again quickly, seeing bright white light around him and feeling nauseous and unfocussed. He paused, then opened them again, just a bit wider.

There was no more pain! No Taser being pushed into his burning side and no wicked face above him asking awkward and painful questions. His body felt stiff and sore, but there were no more sudden spikes of agony. He relaxed marginally

Hutch saw the glimmer of deep misty blue and leaned forward, taking hold of the cool hand and feeling the tremors once again coursing through the gaunt frame.

'Hey there buddy. Welcome back' he said softly, watching the eyes slowly focus and come to rest on him. He saw disorientation in them and something else?...fear? He pressed on. 'I missed ya Gordo'.

The eyes danced around the room, then came to settle back on his face. Slowly the brunette ran his tongue over his dry cracked lips. They moved as he tried to form the words, but he hadn't used his voice in a while and at first he managed nothing but a rasp and a cough. He gasped and put his hand up to his healing stomach, clutching at the healing injury. Carefully he tried again to speak.

'…..Dead' he managed.

Hutch shook his head, smiling. 'No buddy, I'm right here'.

The curly head rocked weakly on the white pillow. 'I'm….dead'.

Hutch fought down the panic he felt rising up inside him. This wasn't how it was meant to play out. His partner was meant to wake up, greet him and get on with his life. Starsky seemed scared to death and Hutch wanted to take him and hug him, taking away the fear and hurt. Instead he took a steadying breath.

'No buddy. Neither of us is dead. You're in the hospital. You're gonna be ok' he said, although a small part of him was uncertain.

Starsky seemed to pause, his mind working through the information. His eyebrows knitted in concentration.

'Waited….for ya…' he rasped. 'Never came….back'. His face looked sad and lost.

'You waited for me? Where? Where did ya wait Starsk?' Hutch pressed, trying to grasp what was going on inside the curly head.

'Cliff…..don't matter……here now'.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm here now' Hutch assured him, rubbing his thumb up and down the back of his partner's hand. His memory went back to the last time he'd spoken to Starsky on the stormy cliff top in the brunette's nightmare. My God he thinks I'm dead and I've come for him!

'Take me home?'

Hutch's heart broke, but he kept his voice level and even. 'I'll take ya home when you're better pal. But ya need to rest and get your strength back'.

'Wanna see Dad'.

Hutch was at desperation point. He leaned over the bed and took hold of the gaunt face gently between his hands. The brunette closed his eyes, stiffening. He whimpered, but the big blond held on, willing his friend to understand

'Starsk. you can't see your Dad. He died, remember? You're in the hospital. Hospital Starsky. D'ya understand? You're not dead. I'm not dead'. He needed the brunette to understand and tightened his grip 'LOOK at me!'

Slowly the troubled eyes opened again and locked on to the ice blue ones above. Starsky seemed to see Hutch for the first time and the blond saw now some recognition.

'Utch?'

He let go, running his fingers through the curls as though soothing a small child, trailing his fingers down the emaciated cheek.

'Yeah, it's me. You with me now Gordo?'

The eyes cleared and Hutch sat down carefully, seeing his friend follow his movements. He asked again.

'You with me now buddy?' He saw the weak nod.

'Utch?'

'Yeah?'

'Where are we?'

'Memorial pal. The hospital. D'ya remember now?'

'Yeah…..hospital' the voice was small and lost. 'Hurts…..sore'.

'I know. The nurse will get you something. Just rest huh? We were scared there for a while'.

The shadow of a smile passed over the rugged, thin face. 'Was scared too' he mumbled. 'Utch?'

'Huh?'

'How long?'

'Since we rescued you? Almost two weeks'.

The indigo eyes closed again. '…..tired'.

Hutch rubbed absently on the pale arm. 'I know buddy. Just rest. Go back to sleep'.

Starsky nestled his head back into the fluffy pillow. He looked up at his partner. 'Knew you'd come' he said.

'Wouldn't leave ya partner. You know that'.

'Yeah….too bright…..Switch the lights off huh? Three?' he said as he drifted back to sleep.

Hutch almost missed it. What had his partner said? Oh God, no buddy, no no no. Not counting. Not the lights. Thought that had finished now. He wiped his hands over his face. Maybe he'd just imagined it.

He stayed by the bedside until the nurse came in, injecting the painkiller into the port on the drip. She smiled at him, then departed. Hutch stood, easing the kinks from his back and padded over to Traff's bed.

'How was he?' the soldier asked, seeing the pained expression on the nordic face.

'Dunno. First of all he didn't seem to recognise me. Then he seemed to come round a bit he even smiled, and he didn't seem in too much pain. It was just at the end he….' He tailed off, not wanting to acknowledge what he thought he'd heard the brunette say. To say it would make it real and Hutch couldn't face the possibility of his friend being sent insane.

'He what?'

'Nothing'

'Something! He what?' Traff persisted.

'He told me things were too bight and to switch off the light'.

Traff looked at the ceiling. 'He always said he could never sleep in the hospital. Even in 'Nam he used to put his head under the blanket to shut out the light. That's ok – its normal Curly'.

But Hutch shook his head. 'Wasn't that. It was afterwards. He mentioned the light, then asked if there were three'. He sat down heavily on the side of the bed, discouraged and tired.

Traff sighed and put his reassuring hand on the blonde's shoulder. 'Hey, its early days yet. He was probably just disorientated, ya know? He's been unconscious for nearly two weeks. Its just the drugs talking'.

'Yeah, probably' Hutch nodded, but didn't sound convinced. He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to block out the memory of his partner, bound and terrified staring up at the lights in the church.