Chapter 4

During the next two days, Hutch sat by the bedside as Starsky drifted in and out of his confused dreams. For most of the time the brunette was calm and lucid, talking to both Traff and Hutch about the old days in the army and at the police academy. They spent a lot of time just talking as though nothing had happened, glad of the opportunity for some normal time and savouring some of the stories they told against each other. Traff had spoken to the doctor about how he should approach the subject of their captivity and treatment. He'd seen enough men come back from 'Nam, Guatemala and Cambodia with post traumatic stress disorder, hearing their cries in the night and helping to cope with their erratic and often bizarre behaviour. He knew that if he didn't handle the next few weeks correctly, his friend would be damaged for life.

Mark had said that he should ignore the traumatic episode and only talk about it if Starsky broached the subject. To force the issue would be to impose the memories and the brunette was in far too fragile a state to be able to deal with them just yet. And so when Hutch went home that morning, exhausted, for a shower and a change of clothes, Traff had sat with Starsky chatting about old times. The detective had stunned everyone by being well enough to be out of bed. He'd even managed to pad albeit in a wobbly fashion to the bathroom on his own and now he was sitting on an easy chair dressed only in pyjama pants to allow the air to get to his burns.

'Ya remember that little nurse we met in Na Am? She was wonderful. D'ya remember that cute little uniform she wore?'

Starsky grinned. 'Oh man do I? She was so sweet'. He smiled at the memory. 'Eight buttons down the front of that tunic' he said, the memories flooding back.

Traff narrowed his eyes in surprise. What would his friend remember the eight buttons and not the ample breasts or tiny waist? Or that amazing thing she could do with her….He didn't press the matter, but salted the snippet away. His heart sank, but he pressed on anyhow.

'How long were you in that hospital?' he asked, knowing the answer, but checking out his buddy's memory.

'Ah, almost two months. Two long months. God I was a mess!' He looked down at his hands, running his fingers lightly over his nails. 'But they grew back. Don't suppose my lungs liked the dirty water this time round any more 'n' they did last, huh? Maybe I should be a fish'

Traff nodded. 'You were one helluva mess' Traff agreed. 'But you got over it. Just remember that Curly. You're tough and you got over that an' you'll get over this, ok?'

Starsky looked up sharply. 'Nothin' to get over. I'm fine. Burns are healing. Got another nice scar to add to my collection', he looked down at the nine inch scar standing out a livid red on his abdomen. Just need to get out of this place. It gives me the creeps, ya know. Nurses are cute and Mark is ok, its just…..' he stopped himself from saying anything further, clamping his lips closed.

'Just what? What were you going to say?'

'Nothing' a cloud descended over the handsome face and the eyes dulled, but Traff wasn't ready to leave the subject.

'You were gonna say something' he pressed. 'What?'

Starsky rounded on his friend. 'JUST LEAVE IT' he yelled, sitting forward on his seat. 'Just leave me alone. I'm fine. Or at least I would be if EVERYONE WOULD JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. Just let me be quiet then I can think. There were three an' I know there were, but no-one'll let me think about it. You're all just yammering away with your platitudes. "It'll be ok buddy" and 'Just rest pal". Course it'd be ok if you'd all just LEAVE ME ALONE'.

Starsky tried to get up off the chair, but the motion caused him stomach and side to hurt and he fell back, grasping his middle.

'Ungh…shit. Can't even stand up any more' he groaned, putting his head in his hands, exhausted by his outburst, panting with exertion.

Throughout the tirade, Traff sat stony faced, watching his army buddy struggling with his inner demons and now he watched the sweating, panting figure of his friend. The soldier knew the outburst wasn't directed at him and he didn't for one minute take it personally, but it did confirm that the damage done by Quinn and Ryan to David Starsky was more than just the wounds he saw on the recovering body. He got a glimpse of the tortured mind and what he saw left him with a feeling of dread.

Carefully he leaned forward taking his friends hands from his face and looked into the stormy indigo eyes.

'Why didn't you tell us?' he asked gently.

Starsky refused to look him in the face. 'Nothing to tell' he mumbled. 'M'sorry. Just tired. Need to go back to bed now' he shuffled off the chair and levered himself into the bed, pulling the sheets up around his chin. Lying on his back, he stared up at the ceiling before looking back at Traff. 'Turn the bloody lights off will ya? All three goddamned lights'.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Later that morning Hutch arrived back at the hospital. He'd been speaking with Dobey on the telephone and the Captain had said he'd be sending officers along later that afternoon to take statements from both Starsky and himself. A photographer would be with them. Hutch had argued that it was too early and that the brunette was still too sick to cope with the trauma, but Dobey had pointed out that they could only hold Quinn and the two Ryan brothers for a little longer without the statements being taken. Seeing the truth in that, the blond had reluctantly agreed. He made his way back into the room with a heavy heart, seeing Starsky apparently asleep in bed and Traff packing his few belongings into his kit bag.

The soldier looked up as Hutch walked in.

'Where are you of to?' Hutch asked.

Traff looked distinctly unhappy. 'I've been ordered back to the base. I'm supposed to continue my recuperation at their medical facility. I couldn't argue over the phone, so I'll go back and speak to my CO. He'll understand, he's been there himself. I should be back maybe tomorrow. Erm….d'ya think I could kip at your place?' he asked.

The blond nodded. 'Sure. But you don't need to do that. Just go get yourself right pal. You've done enough already'.

Traff straightened and took Hutch by the arm, drawing him out of the room and a little way down the corridor. It's not me I'm concerned about. 'Hutch, have you noticed anything…..odd…..about Curly? About his reaction to all this?'

Hutch thought a moment and then nodded slowly. 'He's not himself, but I thought he just needed time to get over it. He's been through a hell of a lot and he was hurt pretty badly. You know how sick he's been. Why?'

'Don't take this the wrong way, chum, but I don't think he's firing on all thrusters. He's erm…..' Traff stopped wondering how he could tell the blond that he thought his partner and best buddy was going mad. 'Look. I've seen so many men come back to the unit shell shocked or having survived treatment like he had. Some of 'em handle it no problem. For some, it drives 'em just plain nuts. And for some it kinda festers under the surface' Traff looked into the ice blue eyes, seeking confirmation that his words were hitting home.

Hutch was staring back, unsure what he was hearing. 'What are you trying to say? He survived 'Nam. I know he still has nightmares about it, but if he can survive that in tact, he can cope with this, surely'

Traff sighed. 'Yeah, he got over the war, and God knows that was tough enough on him. But there's only so much even a strong mind like his can take. This morning we were just chatting about the old days. Nothing confrontational, just general chit chat and suddenly he changed. He blew his top and I swear if he'd have had the strength he'd have decked me…… Hutch, what I'm trying to say is that you need to be careful. Just give him time and space, but be careful, huh?'

The blond leaned back heavily against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. 'You mean he's violent? This is Starsky we're talking about! He'd never hurt me. He'd never hurt anyone that wasn't committing a crime'.

But Hutch too had seen the look in his partner's eyes. The man who went into the church and the man who emerged on the ambulance stretcher were not the same. Something was very wrong with the brunette. It was something, however, that Hutch wasn't ready to fully admit. He put his hand on Traff's shoulder and squeezed it. 'I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern, but he'll be ok'.

Traff didn't push it. 'Can I still stay at your place?' he asked uncertainly.

Hutch smiled. 'Hey, if your back can cope with the couch, it's all yours'.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Starsky woke in time for Traff to leave, if he'd actually been sleeping at all. He'd felt stupid and embarrassed at his outburst, but on a different level, he longed once again for the peace and quiet the drugs brought him. When awake his mind was never still, never quiet and he needed some silence. Just to have the opportunity to get his thoughts into some sort of order.

As Traff sat down in the hospital wheelchair to be taken to the front door, Starsky pushed the sheet back and got himself slowly and stiffly out of the bed. Straightening painfully, he walked with the soldier a little way down the corridor, his hand on the handle of the chair for support. As they got to the elevator, the nurse stepped back and left the two men for a moment.

'Thanks pal' Starsky said awkwardly.

Traff looked up at the damaged detective. 'Nothing to thank me for Curly. Just look after yourself. I'll be back before you know it'.

'I know, it's just……a lot went on'.

Traff took hold of his friend's hand. 'There's a lot still going on' he said, looking deep into the troubled eyes above him. 'Take your time and talk huh? Don't keep it all bottled up, you need to talk to someone. Someone who knows what you've been through and understands it. Talk to Hutch, but get some professional help too. Maybe I could get someone from the base? I know you're a tough guy, but sometimes you've got to accept a bit of help'.

Starsky smiled, but it was a bright, brittle smile and Traff saw the troubled mind behind it. 'I will, but honest, I'm fine. Not going wacko yet' He crossed his eyes in an attempt at humour and Traff smiled back.

Starsky sighed. 'I just need some peace and quiet, I might go back up north. There was this place Mom and Dad took us to once. I kinda liked it there, it was wild and quiet. That's all I need; somewhere to think and get my head in gear'.

'Whatever you say Chief' Traff said softly. 'Just get back to being Curly huh?'

The elevator door opened and the nurse pushed the soldier in. As the wheelchair turned round, Traff waved at the brunette and watched as Starsky turned and limped back to his room.