FAULT LINE- PART 2

CHAPTER 14

TREMORS

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The sun bathed him in warmth. It beat down pleasantly on his chest and face. Starsky stood on the water's edge, his bare feet spread out. The sand squished between his toes and the water lapped at his ankles. The waves pushed up into the shore and dropped back again with a quiet, restful sound.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and swirled the tiny particles of sand in his face and stung his eyes. The sun disappeared behind dark, swirling clouds and the waves crashed to the shore. The waves were so loud that he couldn't here the gulls overhead. The white foam churned and sputtered, pulling the sand under his feet back into the water.

The ground under him began to shift. The wind pushed him toward the water. The sand sank under his feet and he had to hunch over to keep his balance.

As he was crouching against the wind, he saw it. His badge had landed against his toes, wedged in by a mound of sand. He reached out to pick it up but it turned into a hand, an arm. It seemed so far away each time he tried to grab at the hand. The fingers splayed out toward him but the sand under his feet kept shifting. The ground thundered under him, moving and pulling the hand further away.

"Huuuuth!!!"

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With the name still clinging to him, Starsky sat straight up in bed. His chest was damp with sweat.

Starsky brushed his hand through his wet hair and let out a ragged breath. He pushed his body to the side of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. His head felt heavy and foggy from the dream.

He felt off balance, like always after that damn dream.

He lifted his head and reached for the phone. He pulled his hand back as if the instrument had burned him. No way could he call Hutch. Usually after a nightmare Starsky could call his friend for comfort and be grounded again. But not lately. He couldn't count on Hutch for anything.

Starsky got up and made his way in the dark to the kitchen. He turned the light on above the stove. He opened the refrigerator but instantly shut it again. Food was not what he needed. Instead, he took a glass from the strainer and filled it with water. He greedily gulped the cool liquid. He set the glass in the sink and went to the living room.

He was too restless to go back to bed. He paced, pullling out a book finally and settled in the stuffed chair and put his feet on the coffee table.

He read a couple pages before letting the book fall forward against his bare chest. He rested his head against the chair and rubbed the space between his eyes.

No way was he going to concentrate either. The dream always left him feeling alone and helpless.

Starsky hated late night soul searches. He didn't mind when he and Hutch were on a stakeout at night. Those times were different. The two of them would focus on the little things in life or trivia or pick on each other, all in fun. But being alone and trying to sort out the wrongs of life was just too depressing, particularly after a dream. That dream. God, why couldn't he dream about Kira or food or something other than his world falling out from under him. He supposed there was some truth to the dream. He did feel disconnected from Hutch. Every day it seemed they talked less, grew further apart.

Starsky got up from the chair and moved to the couch. He had no intention of falling asleep and risk having 'the dream' again, but maybe just a change of positon would help settle his achy body before he continued trying to figure out his life.

Before stretching out, he padded to the kitchen and got a root beer and he grabbed some chips. Maybe warm milk would help him fall asleep?

"Okay Davey, sounds like Hutch tells ya what to do whether he's here or not!" Starsky spoke out loud, but received no answer or comfort from the dark, shadowy surroundings.

Starsky went back to the couch and set the root beer and chips down on the table. He leaned back in the corner of the couch and spread the blanket over his lower body. He burrowed in among the pillows, reached for his snacks and resigned himself for the long night of wound care.

Two things became very obvious to Starsky. The most obvious was he was alone. Given his current relationship, Kira should be here nestled up beside him or he should be there sharing her bed. Now what was wrong with this picture? As much as he loved Kira, why was he alone? Kira suggested a night apart to appreciate the time that they did spend together. Well, she did have a different view of togetherness. Starsky was the type that when he was in love, he wanted to share all of himself.

It was just a frustrating point of view and right now, he needed contact. But she convinced him that he would want her more if he had a chance to miss her as well. He needed a loving, stable presence to balance him. After that dream, he needed to know that not everything in his life was on shaky ground.

Starsky kicked off the blanket and got up to pace into the kitchen again. He stood in the middle, not really sure why he came there in the first place. He went back and sat in the chair again and put his feet up on the coffee table.

That damn dream still had him feeling foggy and insecure. He refused to give in to the symbolism of the dream but couldn't help thinking of the other obvious thing that kept niggling at his brain.

Hutch.

The two of them, Hutch and himself to be more specific. Maybe Hutch was jealous? 'maybe I'm jealous', Starsky thought. At first he wasn't sure about Kira but now, after the other night, he knew. He'd have to talk to Hutch, make him understand. Maybe Hutch was pissed at him because he hadn't told him from the beginning about Kira. Usually, Hutch got really annoyed because Starsky would go on and on about a current love interest until the blond would plead for mercy!

But right from the start, Starsky didn't want to share his relationship. The dark haired man began to wonder if it was jealousy. After all, Kira was more like somebody Hutch would date. She was model gorgeous and independent, like Gillian had been.

But that didn't explain Hutch's mood. Hell, Starsky didn't understand his own mood lately. He was too serious, just like now. The middle of the night and here he was drinking root beer and thinking about what made his world seem more like a mudslide or--- an earthquake?

"Now I know I'm sleep deprived! That damn dream and here I am talkin' to myself " Starsky commented to the empty, dark room.

Thinking back to the other day, Starsky was still embarrased by Hutch's attitude to their fellow officers. Hutch was rude and demeaning. He never used to be so disrespectful. Hutch was struggling with something alone. That in itself was not what they would ever have done in the past. They always knew that the other would listen, sympathize and offer solutions to any problems that either encountered. But Hutch was pushing everyone away and Starsky was totally at a loss for an explanation.

Starsky admitted to the quiet room that he had issues too and had not shared them with anyone, particularly Hutch. Seems that ever since they'd thrown their badges into the ocean over the disappointment at the death of Lionel, Starsky just couldn't get his feet back solidly under him.

"okay kid! Still talking to myself and picking at a damn dream? This ain't gettin' me nowhere!"

Starsky rubbed his eyes and drew his hand back through his hair. Talking to himself and over thinking was not going to solve anything or get him back to sleep. He shook his head at his own thoughts and deliberately shifted his thinking.

A large yawn cracked his jaw and a loud groan followed. He laid back down on the couch with the blanket pulled up around his neck. He defied his brain to keep him awake any longer. No more self help time. He wanted sleep and craved rest and a bright new morning. He fell asleep thinking of the gift he had to pick up today for Kira. He knew she'd love it. The store was gonna wrap it up just right.

He'd pick it up later and head on to her place.