There was a nice cool breeze and he liked the contrast of it and the hot takeout cup of coffee in his hand.
"This is a lot nicer than your dreary office," Hutch told her.
The park was fairly empty at that time in the morning.
"Maybe I'll just move my office to this park bench—is that what you're suggesting?" Dr Benjamin asked with mocked seriousness.
"Couldn't hurt," Hutch replied.
She sipped at her coffee and sniffed at the early morning frost in the air before asking, "I'm a bit surprised you never mentioned the nightmares before."
"Honestly—I didn't think much of them."
"I don't believe you, Sergeant," she said.
Hutch lowered his eyes to look away from her. "OK—that's fair. I- I don't know why I didn't tell you about them. I just want to get pass this… and Starsky's…he's doin' his best—I just wanta do my part…"
"Ken—your partner already called me. I know--. He told you to tell me or he would—and I bet if he hadn't-- you'd still be harboring this little secret of yours."
He gave her a Cheshire cat grin, "Alright—guilty as charged."
The woman put her coffee down between them and opened up the little white bakery bag on her lap. " Hmm—Cinnamon bun—looks like it has raisins or corn muffin?" She asked him.
"Ladies first," he offered.
Angeline pulled out the cinnamon bun, and carefully split it into. Hutch eagerly took his half and commented, "That was a well thought out solution, doctor."
"Yes, that's why I have the degree."
They both laughed.
"So-- you don't have any recollection of what you dream or memory of having the nightmares either?" She took a healthy bite of the pastry.
Hutch chewed, thinking intently before answering. "I think that's how it goes.Papa Theodore—he's in 'em. Don't ask me how I know that. But he's in there.I know they're scary—and loud. That's about all I can recall. I feel awful when I wake up most mornings--- and I assume that the night before I had one."
"Ken…" Angeline munched while she paused.
"What?"
"Ok--- I told you about my Auntie Tia that's her name- Tia…" She finished off the last of the shared sugary bun but not the sentence.
"Yeah." He shifted his body to get a better look at her face while she spoke.
"She used to…" Angeline hesitated as she continued to contemplate mixing her personal life in with that of a patient's.
The doctor was beginning to understand or believe that it was more than a coincidence that the case of Detectives Ken Hutchinson and David Starsky had been assigned to her--- her own life experience touched by the dark manifestation of spiritual warfare---
"Doc?" The blond-haired cop touched her arm. "Y'okay?"
She smiled back. "Hey— who's the patient here?" she attempted to kid.
He moved closer to her. "No jokes…what's wrong? You went somewhere. You alright?"
"I can't help but wonder..."
"About what?"
She reached for her coffee and the officer quickly picked it up to hand it over. "What is it?" he pushed.
"It's just very strange—that this case ---your case-- ended up coming to me… under the circumstances…"
He nodded. "I guess it is strange. The world's strange."
"Yes it is," she agreed. "I was thinking about when I was a child – my Auntie Tia used to appear to me—in my dreams. She taunted me---they seemed very real too and … I just don't get it…why our paths have crossed…in some weird 'voodoo continuum'. Its like --- The Twilight Zone."
"Well, it makes sense you should be here."
"On this bench?" she asked.
"In my life," he said plainly.
They thoughtfully studied each other a moment, then he leaned over, touching his lips to hers. He slipped an arm around the small of her back, easing them both into a kiss of tender passion.
Then suddenly coming to his senses he pulled back. "Oh—Oh. I-- Oh—geez. I don't know what I was thinking. I - ah-- I guess I just complicated things even more. Way to go Hutchinson," he muttered, admonishing himself.
Angeline coughed lightly and reached for his arm… she was speechless.
Hutch groaned out his embarrassment. "Stupid teenage move. I'm sorry…s-sorry." And he moved like he was going to get up.
"Wait – wait," she said. "Ken—it was sweet—really."
"Ohhh, God." He shook his head, covering his face with his hands.
"No. Really. It was. There are a lot of reasons why that just happened," she said, attempting to explain his action.
"You're going to analysis it!" he said fitfully.
She giggled and bumped his shoulder, pulling his hands away from his face. "Ken, please don't. It was nice, really. If I wasn't your doctor…" Angeline raised a suggestive eyebrow and cut him sexy eyes to imply she would have been very interested if the circumstances were different.
He let out a breath and relaxed, nodding his desire to let the incident creep into the past.
Angeline explained, "This work, psychiatry—doctor and patient. It's very intimate. You'd be surprised how many people get emotionally attached…"
"Oh—so it's just routine," Hutch said curtly.
He sounded offended and she clarified quickly, "I'm only saying it happens--regularly and doctors have to be careful…"
"Right—I—get it. I know-- it's your job… I by no means…meant—I mean…I…" He stumbled over his reply. Flustered, he raked a hand through flaxen-colored hair.
"Oh no. No…that is not what I meant." She jumped in to make her point, "You and me—no—not routine. Absolutely not. Honestly this is more than a case—I mean you--you-- are more than a case…Oh God…" She groaned, feeling very much like an adolescent herself.
His eyes were twinkling when he said, "Doc, I think you're blushing."
-oooo-
"He's stubborn as a bull." Starsky told the two women. The three of them stood over the man in the bed.
"Wha—y'aaall do-in'…here?" he asked them, slurring the words of his inquiry.
Dr. Benjamin, touched the man in the bed and said softly, "You're supposed to be relaxing so you can sleep, Ken."
"Don't wan sleep."…he muttered groggily. The other doctor, Miranda Quinlin, a specialist in sleep disorders, pointedly studied the blond-haired man she had instructed to take two pills before the session. The pair of pills should have had the officer in a deep REM dream state by now.
Starsky shook his head and leaned over his partner. Gently patting him on the cheek, he scolded, "Hutch, you're fightin' it. Don't do that."
Hutch peered up at him through drooping eyelids. "Umm…Starss.. guitar..." he said. His head rolled as he struggled to stay awake.
"What? No. Sleep," Starsky ordered.
Detective Hutchinson sluggishly churned out leg movement as he tried to facilitate some kind of motion to get out of the bed.
Angeline shook her head. She and Starsky exchanged expressions of disbelief and affectionate aggravation, as the man they attended to continued to ignore their instructions.
"My goodness, Ken. We need you to let the medication do its thing."
Starsky rallied right behind her—the deep compassion in his voice, Dr. Benjamin hadn't heard from him before. She was touched by the sound of it. It was low, determined, desperate and loving – all in one, "C'mon buddy." Practically whispered, "We're so close to fixing this – I need you...need you to listen to me now… Right."
Hutch reached for him calling out softly, "Stars…"
"I know. I know part'nr— but we're gonna go through it. Just like we planned--- right? 'Member Miranda--Dr.Quinlin." He pointed to the woman with long jet black hair.
Angeline had introduced the officers to the friendly-faced physician several days ago. The group settled on a simple plan of Hutch taking a sleeping medication to guarantee him reaching the level of sleep that would allow the nightmare to manifest itself. The expert in treating sleep disorders would question him about what he was seeing and hearing…notes would be made, and of course once the docs knew what Hutch was dreaming they could help him and everything would be right as rain. Simple. Should have been.
Hutch eyeballed her suspiciously and then recognizing her he relaxed, "Oh…righttt. S-she's…Angel's… friend." He muttered.
Angeline flashed a look of shock. "Angel? How—how did he? Why'd he call me that?"
Her alarm made Starsky look up at her and he shrugged. "Why?"
"Never mind," Angeline gave his inquiry a quick dismissal. "Let's just stay on this. If he doesn't go to sleep soon, we'll have to try again tomorrow--- give him a higher dosage."
The other doctor standing around the bed checked her watch and nodded her head in agreement.
And that's exactly what happened.
The next evening the two doctors and two police officers were all back in their assigned places and this time a more medicated Detective Sergeant Hutchinson was close to dream state.
At their first meeting, Dr. Quinlin had explained to the men the five stages of sleep and how she was going to be able to manipulate them by introducing a drug used to treat patients with severe insomnia. Tricking the mind with the addition of the medication, the drugs would put the officer right outside of deep sleep. This way, the therapist expected to be able to plug directly into Hutch's nightmares and with the assistance of harmless hypnosis guide him into and then out of the terror he experienced when he slept.
Drugs, hypnosis--Starsky had balked at the thought of Hutch being 'manipulated'. The taller officer was hesitant, but wanted to do something—anything to accelerate getting a doctor to sign off on him being fit for duty and put him back with his partner on the streets. The somewhat unorthodox procedure looked like his best chance. Also trusting Angeline's recommendation of the therapeutic treatment, the blond-haired cop had agreed to it. Dr. Miranda Quinlin, having a genuine and sincere demeanor, made the decision easier. She reviewed the specifics of the several times.
Hutch would take a muscle relaxant and come into her office earlier in the day for her to begin the hypnotic suggestion. That would entail training his unconscious mind to respond to her instructions. It was important for her to be able to guide him into and then out of the manufactured REM state he would be in. Keeping things uncomplicated, they all agreed a count down from 10 would be the signal for both the beginning and end of the unusual therapy.
Just before the session, which would take place in Hutch's bedroom, a familiar environment, Hutch would take the sleep meds and Dr. Quinlin would again plant the hypnotic suggestion—the count down from 10. This would guarantee, she promised the detective, that she could at any point stop the bad dream she was hoping to bring to the surface.
Definitely off-the-beaten-path but feasible.
"Ken remember what we talked about. I'll touch your arm here." She reminded him of the suggestion she had planted earlier in the afternoon and then again a half hour ago--when the blond-haired man was in the second stage of sleep. Dr. Quinlin brushed her fingertips over the inside of his elbow. "Then we'll count back from 10."
"Uhmm," he responded, his eyes closed.
"I want you to think about your dreams---just try and relax." She patted his arm.
"Try," he mumbled heavily.
Starsky wrung out his nervousness through anxious hands. He looked at Miranda and she smiled at him and nodded to suggest that it was going well so far.
They waited a few more minutes and then Miranda started asking him questions.
"Ken, can you hear me?"
"Umph." He grunted and mouthed some more unformed words.
"We're gonna take a deep breath together. Can you do that with me?"
Miranda softy guided fingers down the inside of his arm and Hutch obliged her by breathing in deeply—his chest rising.
"Now… slowing... out…that's it," she said. "Good…we're going to count. Remember. You count with me. Ten."
Hutch's mouth moved but no sound came out.
"Ken, please count out loud with me… Ten?"
"Ten," he repeated roughly.
Dr. Quinlin smiled to herself. "Good. Nine"
"Nine."
"Eight," she directed.
Hutch's brow furrowed and he stalled.
"Eight," the doctor repeated with an insistent voice.
"Eight," he said softly.
"Seven."
"S-sev.."
"Six…and you're just outside the door now," Dr. Quinlin suggested.
"Six…mmm…door."
"Right. Now you're going to open that door and step into your dream. Remember. Five."
"Fivvv."
"You're opening the door?"
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"Good, Ken…four..."
"F-f-f-"
"Three…now you'll step inside," Dr. Quinlin instructed
"Three."
"Two and…one…"
"What," Hutch said in a much clearer voice.
Starsky shifted feet, letting out a anxious sigh and Angeline silently communicated with him not to worry.
"Where are you? Are you on Playboy Island?" Miranda asked him.
He shook his head and swallowed roughly before answering, "No."
"No?" The doctor sounded surprised and gave Starsky and Angeline an inquisitive stare. They both shrugged.
"Ken, where are you?"
He didn't answer and the woman with long black hair could feel the tension in the arm she kept under her palm, "Ken—do you hear me?"
He grunted. "Yes. Yeah--- yeah— hear…"
"Take a deep breath with me. You're in bed. It's night time and you've been sleeping for a few hours now."
"Sleep'm," he responded to her suggestion.
"It's dark and you're deep in sleep now."
His eyes moved rapidly under closed lids.
"It's quiet…dark… and you're dreaming…" Miranda continued.
"Dreaming…" he mumbled.
"Yes…you're dreaming. Not just any dream—it's that dream… and you're not going to let it upset you…take a breath and I want you to watch it from a distance with me. Alright?"
"Kay. Uhmm—there's lots of dream here…" he said softly. "W-Which one..."
The doctor, surprised at the observation, exchanged apprehensive glances with Angeline and a sick-looking Detective Starsky. It was obvious she wasn't expecting the response she had gotten.
"Which one are you drawn too?" she asked.
He walked by the Bokor standing next to Starsky…and the dream that accompanied them. The one where the voodoo priest tortured him-- pricking him with thorns and deviate incantations while Starsky howled out maniacal laughter as the blood dripped down Hutch's arms and legs...
He stopped at a door – the one where the ocean roared behind it—knowing very well it was where he re-lived the strangulation. Where Starsky's face morphed into one of a wild boar—and drums beat out crazy and loud while the people danced around him---kicking sand into his eyes and down his throat…
And he passed all the others until he came to stop at the worst of them…
The mother of all nightmares.
"Are you there?" Dr. Quinlin asked.
He gave a sluggish nod.
"Can you tell me – in the dream, Ken—where you are?" she asked again.
"Umm ….Bay City…my apartm…" His voice fell off.
"Stay with me...Ken."
"I'm here---I'mmm…."
His body tensed under the fingers she still had guardedly holding on to him. "It's alright. Where are you in the dream?"
He moaned lightly and turned his head away from her.
"You are in your apartment?" she clarified
"Yeah…in…my….my…Venice…" he mumbled back.
"Ken--Is there someone with you?"
Hutch groaned. He frowned and all his other features joined in to show his displeasure in the question.
"Who is there with you?"
He didn't answer right away—and they waited.
"Starss here…" He slurred… "Starss."
He switched his head from side to side, and the doctor seeing the detective was getting distressed, gave his arm a squeeze.
Miranda whispered to the other observers, "Hmm, we're getting close to it."
Then speaking to her patient, she said, "Ken—something's upsetting you. Why are you upset?"
He shook his head. A refusal to share it.
'You can tell me--- what is it?"
"H-he's not --- it's…ohh…" He struggled.
"Ken--- please…tell us."
"It—it's-s… "he moaned, "…got..to..get--get get out… I cant. No!" He balled up two fists--his arms rigid.
She gently grazed fingers over the inside of his arm, "Let's count. 'Member…ten?"
"NO!" he called out.
"Ken." she countered with gentle encouragement. "Count with me. Ten—ten."
"Ten." He repeated weakly.
Then slowly in unison… nine… eight… seven...
He blew out a shaky breath. And Starsky not more that a few feet away let out one too. The dark haired man's entire being was fully riveted to his partner's labor to expel the misery.
"Ok." She rewarded him with more caresses to his skin. "We're going back to the dream…you're still there?"
"Yessss…" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"What are you seeing Ken?"
Losing his battle to keep his distance from the images he saw, the blond-haired cop let out a scared moan and a whimper slipped through it to reveal his fearfulness. He sucked in air and gasped out…"It's here…" he whispered, sounding frightened, "It's here. Oh—Oh… No…no…no"
"What is it? What is it?" Quinlin demanded.
"Ohhh. No… Starsk…nooo…no…"
"Starsky is with you?" Angeline sought to verify.
"S-stars…. "
"Ken—Starsky is with you?"
"Yesss. Starskss s'here. It' s'got him! Oh no..no no no. No!" Hutch shouted out.
"This isn't right." Starsky said quietly. Dr. Benjamin watched the dark-haired man rubbing unconsciously at the ache in his chest. His eyes were wet with tears.
Angeline assured him, "Dave, it won't be much longer. I promise."
"What is it? " Dr. Quinlin continued questioning. "Ken?"
"It—it has 'im--isss got him." Hutch said.
"Who?" she asked.
"Its got him," he said with certainty. "Bokor's got him-m-m…"
"Papa Theodore." Starsky said, quietly identifying the voodoo priest's name.
"Ken?"
"His-ss eyes…not Starsky's…like before…on the island… hates me…nooo. Oh God…"
"Ken." she gently called him.
He groaned mournfully and then he was crying. "I'm-mm sorry…Oh God…"
Starsky, no longer able to keep distance between them, took a stand next to the bed to guard over his friend. "I want this over," he demanded. "Just end it! He's had enough. Doc just bring him out of it."
"Shhh, David. We're almost there. "Angeline quieted him. She squeezed her dark-haired patient's shoulder. "He's alright. I'll stop it, I promise if it goes badly." The protector's slouch conceded his momentary acceptance, but he gave the doctor a hard look to let her know he wasn't going to be quiet for much longer.
Miranda massaged more deliberately at the skin on the inside of Hutch's arm-- offering him comfort, "What's happened?" She asked the blond officer.
The long legs made lethargic movements to kick at the unseen terror. "Didn't…mean it… soorrry." he gasped back a sob-- gritting his teeth. Suddenly anger surfaced. "Damn!" He ground out curses of horror and injury.
"Detective Hutchinson?" The doctor continued with her inquiry.
"He wouldn't stop… coming at me—I had to… Ohhhhhh. NOOO."
Starsky moved even closer to his best friend. Laying a hand on Hutch's thigh, he whispered, "It's alright," over and over again.
"I did .. I did it…I did it …I did it..." Hutch grieved under more tortured sounding sobs.
"Did what? Ken… tell us," Miranda appealed.
"Noooo." His mournful wail filled the room.
"Hutch." Starsky, leaned over him, trying to let his best friend know he was close by. "We should stop," the desperate dark-haired man told the women.
"I k—k-k –" Hutch stammered.
The caretakers shared more confused looks.
"K-killed him!" He spat out. I killed him. Killed Starsk…" The words shocked everyone in the room.
"Ken, It's alright." Dr. Quinlin told him, consoling the officer as she gently massaged his shoulder. "Please tell me--what happened."
"It came back—I didn' want to…Scared," He blurted out through a barely contained sob.
"Yes…you were scared," the black-haired doctor concurred.
"Couldn't go through…again… he…came at me—God…couldn't stop him…had to...had tooooo - was scared…" he cried… "Oh God..." His emotion exploded, shaking his body with its detonation.
Angry, Starsky confronted Dr. Benjamin, "Shouldn't we stop—Damn it! Look at him! Is this helping him? He ain't makin' sense-- that's not even what happened."
She saw the despair in his face and assured the dark-haired man, "He has to go through this." She took Starsky's hand to stop him from interrupting the session. "He'll be fine," she whispered.
"Ken, listen from ten—count with me." Dr Miranda gave Angeline a look of professional uncertainty. The african-american woman immediately responded. She sat on the edge of the bed, "There's a problem?" She asked her fellow physician.
"I think so--he's not responding to my requests." Miranda repeated her instruction to the blond cop, "Ken, listen from ten—count with me."
But he wasn't counting with her. "Killed him. UUUUhhh nuhhh…k-killed Starsk. Oh God…no… why…wh-hhy…Starsss…why'd…I do it …" He cried out the agony he felt over the admission, his body shaking.
Starsky practically pushed Miranda aside, He got a hand on the thrashing head and spoke firmly to his best friend. "C'mon, buddy. Listen to me. Come out of it…," he begged. "Don't do this. It's a dream that's all. Huh? Listen."
The words didn't calm the blond-haired man and Dr. Benjamin taking charge, gathered up Hutch's hand. She raised the volume in her voice, "Ten …Ten… Ken. Count with me,"she demanded.
"Killed him …I killed S-starsky…didn't want to…he wouldn't stop—coming at me…like before…Papa Theodore made him." Hutch groaned out his horror, choking on a sob.
Angeline pled, "Ken, please listen..."
"D-didn't want to—didn't want to…nuhhhh." Hutch cried.
"Cmon buddy," Starsky begged. "Count now… Ten…Ten..."
"Ten… Ken…"
Hutch whimpered and the people around him kept encouraging with words and their hands, trying to make him feel safe. Finally he heeded their petitions …
"T-ten," he repeated breathily.
"That's it…that's it, partner." Starsky gave Angeline a weary smile and a nod --acknowledging his partner's accomplishment.
"I kill—kill-d…"
"Nine. Ken---Nine." Angeline ordered.
"Nine." Although repeated, it could barely be heard under his stilted sobbing.
"Eight," Dr. Benjamin said with authority.
"Eight…"he choked out—his body settling down into lethargy.
"Seven," he offered on his own. His eyes opened and closed back under the heaviness of the sleep possessing him. Slowly Hutch was returning back to the restful state.
"That's it, Hutch." The worried olive-skinned man rewarded his partner—running a grateful hand down a tear-soaked cheek.
"Ken—six," Dr. Benjamin said.
"Sissss," he compiled.
"Five – on one you're asleep – remember," she instructed.
He grunted lightly.
"Four." Angeline continued with the countdown.
He whimpered again, his brow furrowed showing his utter discomfort.
"Sleep buddy," Starsky directed.
"F-our" …she repeated to him
"F-fff…"
"T-hree…. Two… and…one."
He was out.
-o-
Starsky walked out of his best friend's bedroom in a haze.
All this time he had been wrong.
How could he have been so far off. Hutch wasn't afraid of Starsky hurting him---Hutch was scared of hurting Starsky.
"Knucklehead." Starsky muttered to himself, a mild grin showing the endearment he felt for his stressed out partner.
His best buddy had some mixed up stuff going on in that head of his. One thought—a realistic possibility and understandable one, was what if Starsky did cross over to the darkside again to make another attempt at murder? What if number two—What if Hutch did try to save himself this time? How far would the blond-haired man have to go—to stop a man possessed?
Hutch's big-bad nightmare was of him killing Starsky in self-defense.
Starsky felt a tug at his arm and turned to face Angeline. "He's a piece a work, huh? All this time--- I thought he was scared of me—not scared for me." He shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, now we know." Dr. Benjamin told him.
"Yeah…so, how you gonna help him—now that we know my buddy suffers from a fear of protecting himself?" Starsky said sadly.
She looked contemplative as she considered the dark-haired detective's question.
"I'm not sure," was her answer.
-oo-
The taller cop had done a bit of sleep walking in the middle of the night—choosing to finish his night's rest on the sofa.
Starsky had waited for signs of life….
As soon as Hutch managed to sit up and started kneading the muscles on the back of his neck –stiff from a few hours of couch sleep---the curly-haired man thrust a cup into his partner's hand.
"What it is?" Hutch asked grouchily.
"Tea."
"Tea?" he asked surprised
"Better for you," Starsky explained.
Hutch cleared his morning throat and blew air at the steaming liquid before taking a sip.
"Thanks," he said sincerely. Hutch focused on the drink until he looked up to see Starsky studying him.
"What?"
"The dream," his friend reminded him.
"Ohh. Yeah… how did the ole exorcism go?" Hutch asked sarcastically.
There was a odd pause and then Starsky said, "You might wanna wait and talk to Angel--Angeline bout it"
"No games, Starsss—just tell me why you're ogling me like a science experiment gone wrong."
Starsky had to smile at that one.
"Well…Hutch—I'm kinda glad and kinda freaked out about it."
Hutch squinted one eye at his partner as he tried to gauge what might be going on inside his friend's head.
He pushed up off the couch. "Ok—so it's 20 questions." Hearing his own hoarseness, he coughed lightly.
The simple act caused the tiny bit of light Hutch had seen in his partner's face, —to dim. Hutch immediately shook off his just-woke-up-distemper and sat back down on the couch. Facing Starsky, he smiled an apology and Starsky accepted with a hand to his partner's knee.
"Your dream… It's not about me killing you—not entirely. It starts off that way…" Starsky didn't finish.
Hutch looked down to the hand in protective mode that kept a firm hold on him.
"This is gonna suck, isn't it," he predicted.
"Hutch--- can we talk about – in the session? Doc's got one—with me and you this time--it's at 3?"
Hutch shrugged. "Yeah—whatever." But he was scared—both he and Starsky knew that. So Starsky patted the blond-haired man's shoulder as he stood.
"I'm gonna cook some eggs…scrambled good for you?"
"Sure. Scrambled," Hutch answered, already completely distracted by what was coming—3'o clock.
(tbc)