They Come In My Dreams

115

Starsky finds a mysterious stone and begins have nightmares he can’t shake. Hutch does everything he can to save his friend’s soul.

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PART ONE

“Hey man, you’re cheating,” yelled the startled youth.

“Carlos, Starsky’s not cheating. He could never figure out all the rules,” Hutch said in mocked seriousness.

“Yeah, well, you’re just jealous. Me and Kiko are unbeatable,” Starsky chanted, holding the boy up for another hit.

Hutch continued the banter. “Carlos and I will make you cry.”

Kiko has admired these men long enough that neither could do wrong in his eyes. He just loved being with his Big Brother and Starsky.

The volleyball game on the beach could be labeled – LA Perfection – maybe a moving post card. The backdrop for the scene was as breathtaking as the handsome blond and good-looking brunette. The young boys played with vigorous abandonment. Unbridled joy reflected on all their faces.

Sand and sea moved with the nature of the tide as did a varied humanity found only around Southern California beaches. All framed in the spectacular sky so bright and clear the only blue that could compare were the eyes of the tall cop playing as hard and freely as the kids. He thought, Life is good, hey buddy.

Starsky caught his eye and smiled with the warmth of that famed California sun.

Hutch lunged as the ball flew over the net and popped it back to Starsky. Muscles of the bodies of both men rippled with every lunge and slam. Kiko bounded in front of the net and made an excellent slam as Starsky easily lifted him over the net. Yep, Kiko loved Hutch, but he knew whose side to be on. Carlos loved to be part of Kiko’s and Hutch’s Big Brother activities, especially when Hutch’s lively partner was around. Both cops were neat.

No one knew for sure what the score was with all the cheating, probably about even. However this was something else they could fuss over, and did. Finally the ball went well out of bounds and both boys ran after it. The kids grabbed it together. The larger children then decided their respective teammates needed help and ran full speed. Starsky slightly ahead of Hutch, lost his lead quickly as Hutch tickled his sides and darted ahead during the laughter, “Hutch, I’m going to…”

“Not in front of the kids, Starsk.”

Hutch went down into the sand as his very mature partner lunged onto his back. Kiko and Carlos finished the pile up and no one was sure where the ball was.

All four finally stood and started shaking sand off like puppies.

Screaming from the waters edge broke through the joy of life and laughter. The shrieking of woman was heard above the others. The woman screaming over and over: “He went in, he just jumped in.”

Following her frantic gaze, Hutch saw the head of a man in the rough breakers by the rocks of the jetty. The water was too dangerous for anyone to go in but Hutch turned yelling for the lifeguards. His mind was desperately looking for some way to help when looking back to the jetty only one thing mattered. Dark hair bobbing in the pounding surf as it moved toward the drowning man.

Diving into the surf, Hutch yelled, “Damn, Starsky!”

Knowing their lives depended on his strength to help get them ashore Hutch pushed his limit. Muscles strained and lungs ached as Hutch made it to his partner. Fighting the power of the rip tides formed by rocks forming breakers and their own exhaustion, somehow they made it to shore. They still had the limp body in tow but there was no life left in it.

Pulling the body onto Hutch knew that no ambulance would be necessary. Starsky fell to his knees and started CPR in a desperate attempt to breathe life into the lifeless body. The young man had been handsome. His broken body had once been the color of soft ebony now had the pallor of death.

The hysterical woman continued chanting, “He just jumped and was gone.”

Starsky continued to pump air in lungs that now had no use. Hutch yelled into the crowd for the lifeguards. Both men were shivering with cold from the ocean in January. Hutch put his hand numbed with cold on Starsky’s shoulder and said through chattering teeth. “Come on Starsky, he’s gone.” The sea cradled the lifeless body and lapped against Starsky’s thighs as he rested against Hutch.

Starsky watched as the tide pushed a stone into the inert palm of the battered body. Intrigued he stared as the ocean receded and then surged again lifting the hand giving the illusion of offering the stone to Starsky. Sirens blared, voices barked and Hutch tugged at his arm as, without giving it a thought, Starsky took the offered stone from the dead man and put it in his pocket.

Hutch helped him to his feet and they started up the beach to get warm and share some more of life with the fatherless boys. Life was still good; sometimes you just have to work it.

~~~~~~~~~~

They come in your dreams,
Taking the sweet away,
Hearing your screams,
In your nightmares they play.

“Starsky, you haven’t heard…” froze in mid sentence at the expression on his partner’s face. They were working at their desks, trying to reduce the chin high piles of paper work when an odd look had crossed Starsky’s face.

Their daily reports were quickly becoming weekly and some even monthly. Dobey apparently reached his tolerance level and had bellowed accordingly which explained why the two detectives were still firmly planted at their desks so late.

Startled, Starsky looked up from his share of the mountainous pile of reports.

After a tense minute of silence, Hutch asked thinly, “Where’d ya go?”

Exhaustion pushing his words, Starsky said, “Sorry, I’m just tired. Don’t feel too well either. Sure would like to just call it a night.”

“Then, consider the night called. Let’s grab a bite.”

“Ah, not tonight Hutch. I’m drained, just want to go home.” Starsky didn’t mention sleeping. Nightmares had plagued his sleep for days, but Hutch didn’t need to know that. Anyway they’d probably go away when some of these sick cases were solved. Starsky had forgotten how long it had been since he had a good nights sleep. Maybe unconsciously he was trying to deal with what he consciously just could not. The bad guys seem to be winning. Or perhaps it was just a virus. That one would be his story to Hutch if forced to come up with one.

“Kay,” Hutch compromised. “We’ll go to my place. Fix some soup got some homemade left. Lots of veggies, be good for you.”

Starsky eyes were so blue they had unearthly quality about them as he looked deeply into the lighter ones. “I really don’t want to.”

Hutch knew that was clear enough. “Okay, but I do hope you eat something. You sure haven’t eaten much lately. Looks like you haven’t slept in a few days either.”

“I’ll eat, get off my back.” Then softer, “I told you I just feel…” strange is what he felt, “achy, maybe caught virus,” is what he said.

Stacking his papers into neat piles, Hutch took a minute to collect his thoughts. He was uneasy about Starsky being alone tonight. Something wasn’t right.

Remembering the sight of him today at the bathroom sink didn’t make Hutch feel any better. Hutch had called his name and told him Dobey was really on their butts. Starsky finished washing his face and just stared. When Hutch had asked if he were sick Starsky didn’t acknowledge the question, but looked at him strangely. Hutch had probably seen every expression imaginable of his partner, with the exception of the one he wore when alone with a lovely lady, but he’d never seen one like that before. Bewildered was the nearest he could describe it, like Starsky was looking at him through a thick fog. A fog filled with fear. Whatever was going on in Starsky’s mind to generate strange look?

Starsky stood, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and called, “Night Hutch. I’ll pick you up in the morning,” as he moved to the door.

“Starsk,” Hutch’s jacket caught on the chair, and tugging it loose he darted after his partner. Finally catching up with him as stepped through the garage door, Hutch called out, “Starsky!”

Starsky didn’t slow his trot, but with keys in hand said tightly, “Yeah, what is it?”

Starsky was already unlocking the car door when Hutch’s large hand wrapped around his arm. Hutch held to that arm as he squeezed between Starsky and the car door. Starsky looked into the searching eyes and leaving the keys hanging in the lock and pressing Hutch’s arm against his own as if it were a lifeline, said “It’s okay, Hutch.”

His words did nothing to lessen the anxiety Hutch felt. Starsky had to force his eyes away and hugged Hutch’s arm to himself for many seconds before pushing him gently away from the car. Hutch watched unmoving as Starsky slid into the seat, started the ignition and pulled away without moving. He listened to the squealing tires with a knot in his stomach and stood in the empty parking space long after his partner had vacated it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Beyond the sea,
They come and taste,
Destroying for their needs,
Precious minds they waste.

When the night is most still and darkest— after midnight, the time of aloneness, the time of dreams—reality is suspended, and we become so vulnerable. This was the time they came.

Starsky didn’t want to close his eyes, but days of very little and then restless sleep was taking their toll. Drinking coffee and pacing worked for a short time. Watching television was boring and his eyes were too tired to focus on a book. Three times he picked up the phone to dial Hutch’s number, but what would he say? Hutch couldn’t stop the nightmares, although it would be awfully nice to have him nearby. His partner always gave him a sense of security. Still, his friend couldn’t always be there to hold his hand or be his lifeline. Anyway Hutch needed sleep too.

So Starsky took a warm shower, threw on a pair of sweat pants gazed longingly at the phone. No, Hutch’s tired and I’m a big boy. This is stupid; a dream can’t hurt you. He sat on the side of the bed and decided as tired as he was, there was no way a dream would have the energy to form tonight.

Starsky slept and dreamed, and knew it was a dream because They told him; and he begged to wake. His heart raced, clothes and sheets were wet with sweat. His mind began screaming long before his eyes opened.

Hutch had trouble getting to sleep, but not for of lack of effort. Starsky’s odd behavior had shaken him. He knew a virus wasn’t the answer. He’d seen unexplained fear and confusion in his partner’s cobalt eyes. Hutch wished he could have hung around the night. He might just do just that tomorrow if his buddy wasn’t better.

Sleep finally came for Hutch, but in middle of the night, terror from a nightmare woke him. Cold whispers of wind blew on his face and Hutch saw the eyes of terror. Starsky!  Hutch reached for the phone. He knew his partner’s panic and intense need for them to be with each other.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cold whispers across your mouth,
Lightly teasing your hair,
Memories of things best forgotten.
Hints of horror in your ear.

Starsky didn’t hear the phone ringing; The Hateful were too loud in his mind. He hurt and saw hurt and remembered pain. They screamed and he echoed those screams…as his father died, and Hutch convulsed in his arms tortured by the demon in his veins. Then Starsky saw a boy’s blood on the ground and heard it as it splattered on the ground. Feeling the blood as it covered his own hands and clothes as it spilled from the boy’s body. Starsky forgot why he had killed him, forgot that the boy had brought the gun down to blow him away. He just knew it was his gun that had caused all the blood. Starsky saw and felt much more, till his body, refusing more pain, sat up, then doubled over wrapping into itself for comfort. Then They smiled, knowing this torture was true, and how much more would come of things not true.

They heard the ringing and knew it was the Other calling. Yes, he would have sensed the danger and fear of Their chosen. They left, for now, but They would be back. The child in this one gave them a way to return. So strong was his goodness and his knowledge of truths, They would be able to find him even when he was awake.

Ringing merged with screaming and it took both to wake Starsky. He was crying and terrified. Shivering so hard his teeth rattled, he knocked the phone off the night table. Hutch was screaming into the phone loud enough to be heard across the room. Starsky knew if he didn’t answer him soon, Hutch would be on his way over.

Shit, he thought, Hutch don’t need to see me like this. Dropping the phone twice before holding it steady enough to speak, “utch, Hutch, wh, why? It’s late.”

“Starsky, what’s wrong?”

Starsky’s heart was pounding so loudly he was afraid Hutch would hear it through the receiver. Trying hard to catch his breath, he said thinly, “Hutch, just had a little nightmare.” Little!

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“No! I’m fine. We both need sleep. Go back to sleep, Hutch.”

“You go back to sleep, if you can keep your teeth from rattling long enough. I’m on my way.” And the line went dead.

Starsky wondered how Hutch knew his teeth were rattling. He wanted to clean up and look normal, but all he could manage was a trip to the john. Then tried to wait patiently because, although there would be no discussions of what caused the sweat and teeth chattering, he wanted Hutch here with him so bad tears threatened to flow.

~~~~~~~~~~

Driving from Venice Place to Starsky’s apartment in the middle of the night took less than twenty minutes, but it seemed to forever. Hutch was really disturbed by the fear he’d heard in Starsky’s voice. It sure as hell isn’t a virus scaring you speechless, partner. Trying hard to forget Starsky’s chills and terror, he gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. Hutch had been awakened by the same fear that caused his partner to scream long before his eyes opened.

The Ancient Empty Ones knew why he had felt chills and terror of their Chosen. They had begun to feed.

Hutch knocked once then let himself in Starsky’s place with his spare key. Closing the door behind him, he looked cautiously around the dimly lit apartment. Subdued light coming from the bedroom was the only illumination. Hutch could see nothing out of the ordinary; still a sense of foreboding filled him.

“Starsky,” Hutch called as he made his way through the front room and again calling, “Starsky,” as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

Starsky was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his legs and head in his hands. His breathing was rapid and shallow. Even from the doorway he appeared pale and was obviously in shock, not moving as Hutch came to him except for a slight shudder of his shoulders. Hutch leaned back on his heels in front of him and gently said, “It’s okay now.” Cupping his hands on Starsky’s knees, he added softly, “I’m right here, buddy.”

After a long minute, Starsky slowly lowered his hands, resting them on Hutch’s, and looked deep into his worried blue eyes. No words were needed as many answers were given in the purest of ways. Souls were bared and a lifeline sent from one partner to the other. Starsky grabbed the love and strength from the heart of his best friend. Nightmares still loomed, but now he wasn’t facing them alone.

For a while only Starsky’s hand moved, gripping Hutch’s. Then Hutch said calmly, “You’re okay, Starsk,” and the hands holding his began to relax.

Starsky quietly said, “Hutch, ‘m glad you’re here.”

The Needy Ones watched as Their Chosen and the Other together became more powerful than They; and they let go for now. This other would be a delight to the feast.

Starsky gave a shudder and Hutch moved beside him on the bed. Wrapping an arm around Starsky’s shoulders, he pulled the blanket over him with the other, Hutch said softly, “Talk to me Starsky,”

Starsky leaned into Hutch’s shoulder stammering, “I’m tired Hutch.” Hutch could feel his exhaustion. This was not the time to talk. Hutch needed to hold his friend and let that exhaustion become sleep.

Soon Starsky became as lax as a sleeping kitten and Hutch eased him down on the bed before climbing over him to rest himself. Trying to make some sense out of the last couple of days kept Hutch from falling asleep. He wanted some answers, and he was doing some shuddering himself. Hutch’s trembles usually came when he was awake. Starsky said it was because he thought too much, always analyzing. Starsky’s trembles often came in the form of nightmares. Maybe he felt too much. Was Starsky having a breakdown, epilepsy, and how the hell would that explain the terror Hutch felt before making that call to him?

Well after daylight, Hutch made coffee. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a box of Cheerios. Reaching for a bowl as Starsky came in the kitchen he pulled out a cup for him. “Morning, how bout some coffee?” Hutch asked, looking at his ragged partner. “You want Cheerios or,” and grabbing a box with sugar falling like flakes of snow illustrating the box, “or sugary pretend flakes?” Smiling he held the box of sugary cereal up.

“Coffee smells good, thanks,” Starsky said tiredly, waving the cereal box away as Hutch poured his coffee. Looking into Hutch’s eyes as he took the offered cup, Starsky gazed into those concerned cornflower blue eyes of Hutch’s.  Not now Hutch, please.

Starsky was worried about his own sanity. One thing he did know, he didn’t want to tell his partner about the crazy stuff going on his head. When things whispered to you, you tended to keep it to yourself. Adding the sugar, Starsky looked over at Hutch, trying to come up with a plausible explanation his partner could live with. He’d had a nightmare. Hell Hutch, my world is upside down and backward right now. Stay with me pal; I’m dizzy with it all.

Handing the milk to Starsky, Hutch finally asked, “Pretty bad dream, uh?”

Avoiding those intense eyes this time, Starsky mumbled, “I don’t remember much of it.”

“You feel like going in?” Hutch asked knowing they had a lot to do, and he figured Starsky wasn’t going to rest anymore here.

“Sure, of course,” Starsky said as he put his dishes in the sink. “Just need a hot shower.”

“Kay, wish you’d eat something though.”

Starsky called over his shoulder on the way to the bathroom; “We can grab a donut.”

Hutch smiled. You sure are sounding more normal pal. Oh please just rest tonight and let this be over.

Hutch was talking on the phone when Starsky came out of the bathroom toweling off. “Yeah, Hug, what you got?” Then to Starsky, “Huggy’ll meet us around three. Says he might have something.”

Into the receiver, Hutch replied, “We’ll be there, no, what? Okay, Sure I can hold them,” and with a little laugh he hung up the phone.

Starsky came out of the bedroom pulling his shirt over his head. “Hug got something?”

“Well, he thinks he might, he wants us to see something. Said I had to be with you though, really peculiar even for him.”

Starsky looked up from tying his shoe, “Me, hm, well just what I need, suspense.” Then handing Hutch’s holster to him, asked, “Ready?” Moving to the door he turned and said impatiently, “Let’s go.”

Hutch strapped on his holster and followed, speechless at the change in his partner. Starsky acted as if nothing happened and other than dark circles under his eyes, he looked normal. Hutch knew it wasn’t near over, though.

The Cold Ones watched. They wouldn’t wait long. Always seeking, always needy, old as time, They had touched this ones soul and wanted the goodness and truths there. Now They had contact with the Other. What delights awaited The Needful.

So often chosen ones were destroyed quickly, leaving Dream Ones hungry, but this one was strong, very strong, and his soul held so much they wanted. They hungered and planned. They knew the one that could save must be closely watched, but that made Them hunger even more.

Hutch shivered as he followed Starsky down the stairs. His stomach hurt with dread and shaking his head he decided he was very tired himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hungry and needful ones had enjoyed a taste of ecstasy, and knew even greater feasts waited. They watched the Chosen and the Other, their lust becoming alive and insatiable.

Hutch still held Starsky, not questioning. Starsky lowered his eyes as if too tired and scared to see what was in Hutch’s, knowing they were a reflection of his own. Starsky wasn’t sure what he saw beyond reality. It was a dream, and one with too much horror to want to remember. It was already becoming much like the mists gathering around them, allusive, vague, nearly gone. Only the terror and weakness and nausea remained. Even those would soon be gone.

Starsky leaned his forehead against Hutch, his shaking now lessening. He was so tired. His hands fell loosely at his side as he let go of Hutch’s arms. He wished he could climb into Hutch’s soul and rest.

Hutch spoke, warm breath on dark hair, giving more comfort. “Starsky, babe, you okay?

Soft curls tickled Hutch’s chin as he felt the nod. He also knew that the yes being given was a very relative thing. Okay compared to what? Terror? Absolute aloneness? Is that what Starsky had felt? They stood together another minute or an hour.

Hutch looked around the now deserted beach. Why had Starsky wanted to come here? Since yesterday, Hutch had tried to come up with a plausible explanation for Starsky’s frightening behavior. He wondered if he could have inexplicably developed epilepsy, but how would that explain his words, “they made me dream,” that tore at Hutch’s heart when Starsky’d called his name again… pleading for help. Hutch could do little more than he did so early this morning; be there and try to comfort and protect. He knew soon that wouldn’t be enough.

Starsky left his hands inside Hutch’s jacket trying to hold on to reality. His partner was real and warm and would go through hell to protect him.

Obviously an answer had to be found soon. They’d rest and see what Huggy had. Then it would be time to talk.

Starsky willed feeling back into his legs and weakly stood on his own. He let Hutch put an arm around his waist and they began to walk through the through the cold drizzle that wet their faces. Starsky tried not to think, for now; he’d let Hutch do that.

They both felt a chill as the needful watched but kept their distance. The Chosen and the Other were too close together in body and mind and soul at the moment. The Foul Things had to let them go. The hungry ones, the Ancients, had to go back to gather and taste and feel what They had devoured from this rich soul. The wind whispered cold and they went to the horizon, to the blue where the sea met the heavens—the blue of their eyes. Beyond hell They went—back into where no time exists. But they wouldn’t rest long, they had yet one other to whisper cold to. And they were so hungry.

By the time they got to the car both men were more than damp. Starsky, though chilled was not shaking anymore. Just exhausted. He slid in the passenger side as Hutch dug out his spare key. They rode the short distance to Venice Place in silence. Pulling to the curb in front, Hutch thought how familiar could feel so nice.

Some of Starsky’s color had returned, although he tiredly got out of the car. Hutch came around to his side and waited. Putting a restraining palm against Starsky’s chest, Hutch searched his face. Starsky didn’t move, but lowered his eyes. Lifting his friend’s chin, Hutch looked questionably into those dark blue orbs. He didn’t need a verbal answer. Neither man had thought much about their unique way of communicating for it was just there, part of the whole. Seeing the bewilderment in Starsky’s eyes intensified the uneasiness Hutch was feeling. His partner was about to fold and Hutch knew answers had to be found.

Starsky glanced at Hutch once more, eyes briefly connecting as he waited for him to open the door. Starsky’s silent thoughts were crystal clear. What do you want me to say Hutch? I’m just tired of it all.

Inside the apartment, Hutch took off his damp jacket. As Starsky headed to the bathroom, Hutch dialed Huggy’s number.

“Huggy Bear’s Pits. What can I do you for?”

“Huggy, something came up. We won’t be leaving…”

“Hutch, Starsky, he’s with you?”

The question drew Hutch’s eyes toward the bathroom door. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“Bring him here, Hutch.”

“I thought we might rest this afternoon. Starsky said he…”

“Aunt Millie has sent someone to see you two, today.”

“Aunt Millie, that would be another relative with some physic ability?” Hutch was pacing a little, eyes still on the bathroom door.

“She’s sending a girl, her niece. You gotta hear what she has to say. She wants to show you — Come today my friend. Listen”

Huggy didn’t say anything for long Hutch wondered if he were still on the line. “Huggy…”

“The girl was the Miram Meadows, the widow of…”

“Calvin Meadows? The, the man—the man that drowned.”

“Yeah, do you know anything about Meadows?”

“No, Huggy, only that the hysterical woman said he jumped. Look can you tell me what’s this is all about? I’ve had a rough day.”

“She has something to show you, and then you must go to Aunt Millie.”

“Shit Huggy, we’re so far behind in everything.” He wanted Starsky to get to a doctor too. Everything had to ruled out.

“You have to see her, Hutch. Trust me, this is Huggy asking.”

“All right, maybe the first of week.”

“No, too much can happen. I’m telling you Hutch she knew things about Starsky—about you both—I didn’t know.”

“Huggy, lots of people know us. We’re not exactly invisible.”

“But man, she knows things. Things she has no way of knowing.”

Hutch was slipping his jacket on as he spoke. They really did need something to eat. “Huggy, come on…”

“Remember that time Starsky was in that cellar three days. How he stayed with you and saw the shrink. I mean he was really bad there for a few weeks?”

“Of course I remember—Huggy if you know something just hold it. We’ll head out, just feed us, but no spook tales or séances… ”

“She knew he stayed with you and slept on your couch.”

“Huggy, shit, Starsky crashes here. It may not be common knowledge but certainly no deep dark secret.”

“Here me out! That night, after he was pulled out of that cellar, after those three days of hell, he slept on your couch. You sang “One More Mountain,” and he held Ollie.”

Hutch couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. No one could have known that. Starsky resting on the couch, his head buried in Ollie, wetting the bear with silent tears. Hutch had sat on the floor leaning against the couch and sang what Starsky wanted to hear, “One More Mountain,” but Starsky wouldn’t have told that to Huggy.

Hutch had later washed the bear. The blood from scratches on Starsky’s hands had left stains that wouldn’t wash out. Hutch tried hard to take care of Ollie, and doing his best with Dave too.

“Hutch! She saw blood on you, but said it wasn’t your blood, and tears that merged together, yours and his and someone else’s. All those many tears came together on a soft face with button eyes. You tried but all the blood wouldn’t come off of the softness.”

Hutch gulped. He knew Starsky didn’t realize how hard he had tried to clean Ollie. His partner never knew the tears Hutch had shed for him and Terry and the dead girl in that cellar. He remembered the day after Starsky had gone back to his apartment. He hadn’t stayed there but a couple of days before he decided Hutch was too tired to drive home one night, causing Hutch to spend a few nights at Starsky’s. Starsky told him he was better than a night-light. Hutch enjoyed a few more nights knowing his buddy was okay. But in those few days between the sleepovers, Hutch had tried to clean Terry’s bear. She had so lovingly put it, and Starsky, in Hutch’s care before she died. Hutch felt the tears well up thinking of her and the love she and Starsky had.

Hutch had gingerly rubbed Ollie’s fur with mild cleaner, but some of the blood was stubborn and wouldn’t wipe off. The precious little bear was stained. Hutch then had held the bear close to his heart and cried silent tears on the furry face with button eyes. His tears mingled with Starsky’s and surely with the tears of the angel who had first loved Ollie.

He wasn’t going to let Starsky go to that place of his dreams.

“Hutch, Hutch. Speak to me man.”

“I’m here Huggy. We’re on our way. Aunt Millie, huh?”

“Yeah, later, and Hutch, she wants to talk to you, but not Starsky. Miram must see you both.” Huggy hung up before Hutch could question him. Anyway, his partner had been quiet a long time.

Hutch, placing the receiver in the cradle, felt an icy tingling on his neck. He froze as breath so cold formed into substance and lightly caressed his hair. Then he pushed himself forward stepping through cold emptiness and moved toward Starsky.

The Needful that watched were held in awe. Strength from such love made the silken hair other stronger than time itself. The delights the Hungry would devour when they took this love so freely given, so delightfully pure, from the Chosen One’s soul.

Hutch slammed the bathroom door open, stopping abruptly when he saw Starsky unmoving and dazed staring into the mirror. He was very pale again, his face contorted in horror. Then, time stopped and Hutch saw in the in that space of sight between behind and ahead images in the mirror of terror. Like a blurry home movie he saw Terry laughing and caressing Starsky. Then the picture became darker and Hutch endured sickening images of Terry being lowered into the ground. Other vile projections of memories and feelings were played. With the strength of a drowning man, Hutch found his voice.

Starsky didn’t move from his trance as Hutch called his name, “Starsky.”

Hutch didn’t hesitate this time. He grabbed Starsky’s arm and roughly jerked him around. Starsky blinked and closed his eyes. Maneuvering him to the sink, Hutch held onto him with one hand and ran a washcloth under the faucet with the other. Starsky responded by opening his eyes, but found it hard to focus.

“Hutch, it’s too much, please do som’em, please, much.” Starsky’s incoherent plead shook Hutch has much as the nightmarish images in his bathroom mirror. Even though Hutch had no answers and was as and was scared himself, Starsky felt comfort knowing he would be with him through anything. He wouldn’t have to deal this alone. Hutch wouldn’t leave him by himself either. Starsky’s world regained some of its clarity and found his legs still had bones capable of holding him up.

The Foul Ones hoarded the feelings of trust and unselfish they had felt from these unique beings. The lighter blue eyes had met the darker and strengthened him. Timeless Needy Ones would now have a much greater banquet on which to feast. They had chosen well. This one would not be easily destroyed like the last chosen, and so many chosen before him. The golden other gave so much of himself. These two souls could never be severed, and the Other would have to be the Keeper.

Starsky blinked, looked at Hutch quickly regaining his healthy color and mobility, looked curiously at Hutch.

Stunned at this sudden change Hutch asked, “Starsky?'”

Wordlessly Starsky patted Hutch’s cheek and sauntered out of the bathroom.

Hutch followed even more bewildered.

Starsky rummaged through Hutch’s drawer taking out a soft beige shirt and pulled it over his head. “Hey Hutch, aren’t you getting out of those wet clothes? You’ll be sick ya know.”

Hutch joined his partner’s quest for dry clothes producing from the closet a cotton plaid shirt. Soon they were dry and warm and awfully hungry.

“Did you get Huggy?” Starsky didn’t seem tired or confused. In fact, the exuberance that comes so natural to Starsky was back.

Had anything really happened? “I told him we were on our way.”

“Terrific,” Starsky said as he bounded for the door. “I’m starved.”

Half down the steps, Starsky stopped short causing Hutch to bump into him. Starsky looked around at him and smiled. Hutch held his breath waiting for, well waiting for anything. Very little from his partner would surprise him at this point. Hutch asked simply, “What?”

Starsky’s smiling eyes embraced his partners. Then turning and racing down the steps he called over his shoulder, “Love ya.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Love you too buddy.
But when they come,
And take my soul,
And fill my mind,
Will you love me?
Can you make me whole?

The Needful let go to basked in the childlike of their Chosen, tasting the energy and wonder of that soul. They had never known one such one such as this luscious being’s. This soul had such delicious memories of pain, sadness and horror as well as love and joy. It had truly seen the worst in these mortal creatures and remained an innocent. For now they wanted to watch it play, while the Chosen’s mind still knew of such things.

Starsky had the keys in the ignition before Hutch opened the door. Relaxing he threw Hutch a smile as drove toward Huggy’s. Still bewildered Hutch’s slid his hand across the back of the seat and lightly teased his partner’s curls. Okay Starsk, I will try to go with the flow for now.

Starsky pointed the car toward the beach and canals. Explaining quickly before any comment could made from Hutch’s opened mouth, “We’re going, just the scenic route.” Hutch tried to keep his head steady for whatever ride they were on.

Creeping across the canal, Hutch studied Starsky. Trying to keep the dread under control he spoke evenly. “Starsky we haven’t eaten all day.”

Ignoring him, Starsky inhaled deeply. “You can smell the salt,” and as he turned the Torino toward the waterway, “everything is so bright, Hutch. Colors hurt your eyes.”

Hutch couldn’t find any words. His mind was overloaded with perceptions of too many things. They pulled over on the channel side across from the canal and the scene was beautiful. Every kind of small watercraft used this water highway from the marina to the open sea. Sailing up and out, or in and home. Starsky looked toward the entrance to the ocean. Turning to Hutch with a look of complete trust he said sweetly, “The water is so sparkly and blue, Hutch. I never seen such blue water.” Hutch shivered at Starsky’s bright eyes. “I’m glad you’re my friend Hutch.”

“And I’m glad you’re mine too, Starsky. Buddy we need to go eat. Huggy…” Starsky’s expression cut off whatever thought Hutch had.

Looking at the water with eyes full of wonder Starsky whispered, “You know, your eyes are that color.” Starsky took off his jacket and lightly felt the hairs on his arm with his fingertips. Hutch felt as if he had stepped into the Twilight Zone as he watched his friend then rub his arm from the elbow to the wrist against his face—softly laughing as the soft hair tickled his chin. The corners of his mouth turned up sharply as he grabbed Hutch’s arm and ran his fingers lightly across his sleeve. With eyes as dark as cobalt he touched Hutch’s hair and fingered silken strands.

Starsky felt the interior of the car and the partially opened window and got out of the car. Hutch hurried to join him as he moved toward the water. Starsky stopped and reaching down he patted the grass. He stood scrutinizing a small stick.

Hutch again opened his mouth, but was too mesmerized to say more than, “Starsk?” Starsky looked over the car toward the bridge in the distance and began running across the street to the canal.

Hutch caught up with him as was jogged along the edge of the water.

“Starsky,” Hutch panted, “where are you going? We can do this some other time.”

Without stopping Starsky pointed at a swan gliding through the middle of the canal. Excited, he yelled, “Wow, look!”

“I see Starsk. Let’s go eat now. Huggy’s waiting.”

Starsky ignored his pleas but smiled. Hutch grabbed his arm jerking him to a stop. Again Starsky gave his friend that beautiful smile. “I know you’re hungry; it’s just so nice being here,” Starsky said and put his arm around Hutch. Together they started back.

Hutch pulled away from him as they neared the Torino and ran hoping to get to the driver’s side first. The keys were still in the ignition and he knew Starsky had no business driving. Starsky, giggling as if they were playing a game, darted ahead and slid behind the wheel with unbelievable speed. Hutch stood by the closed door as Starsky started the car. Then hardly giving Hutch time to throw himself in the back-seat, Starsky laughed and pulled the bright car away. Hutch climbed over the seat to the front as Starsky still laughed gleefully.

Happily humming and tapping his fingers on the wheel Starsky finally turned toward Huggy’s. Hutch was speechless. He wanted to hurry to Huggy’s. The answers had to start someplace and they were grossly overdue.

Without warning Starsky screamed, “Hold on,” hitting the gas he cut across three lanes and flew up the ramp merging, with skids and horns blaring, into the traffic headed toward Santa Monica.

Hutch was trying to hold on to the seat, dash, any stable object as he was thrown like a rag doll. Ramming his hand against the dash, he screeched, “Starsky, Starsky, Starsky!”

Eyes shining and eager, Starsky didn’t notice Hutch.

“Starsky,” finally Hutch became coherent. “Starsky, come on, are you nuts? Where are we going?”

Starsky said quietly, “I really am Hutch.”

“You’re what Starsk?”

“Nuts,” Starsky said as a look of joy came over his face. Following his bright gaze, Hutch saw the Ferris wheel on the pier.

“No, Starsky, no way. Come on buddy.”

Starsky pulled off the road across from the entrance to the Santa Monica Pier and the beach. Surprised he looked at Hutch. The expression on Hutch’s face bemused Starsky and he said amazed, “You really don’t want to go! That’s okay. We can go this weekend. Plenty of time then.”

“Okay, maybe this weekend. Huggy’s fixing us some burgers right now,” was all Hutch could manage as he tried not to hyperventilate.

“Gee that sounds good. Hey, maybe he can come with us Saturday if we go early enough.” Starsky put his hand on the keys in the ignition and Hutch relaxed some.

Hutch, looking out his window, facing away from the crowded beach, sighed and felt very tired.

In that second, before Hutch could react, before his mind registered movement. Starsky opened the door and leaped out. Hutch bounded over the hood of the car as Starsky blindly darted across the busy Pacific Coast Highway. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the first car missed Starsky by inches. Hutch tackled Starsky, the momentum throwing them both out of the second car’s path. They hit the sandy shoulder of the road rolling. Hutch’s arms still tightly embraced Starsky as their bodies came to a rest well off the road.

They didn’t move till the driver frantically ran to them.

Hutch stood shaken, but intact. He pulled a dazed Starsky up, looked him over carefully, and panting asked, “Are you okay?”

Starsky nodded bewildered and thinly said, “Uh huh.” With eyes bright with tears, “Hutch you could have been killed.”

Hutch didn’t let go of Starsky’s arm as he turned to the terrified driver. “We’re okay.”

“Please, do you need an ambulance?” The poor man looked like he would be the one to need the ambulance.

Starsky pulled back hard, and would have bolted, but Hutch gripped his arm tighter. Looking down at the bleeding leg and the mangled knee of the jeans, Hutch said, “Starsky, let’s get an ambulance.”

Starsky followed his eyes to the mangled bloody jeans of his knee and shaking his head pleaded, “s’kay, really, promise.”

Hutch looked closely and decided it wasn’t an emergency enough to warrant explaining what just happened to any authorities; he hoped it wasn’t. Damn it, what if one of them had internal injuries? Again looking at the pitiful face of his partner decided they would have to take their chances. Starsky wouldn’t be left only, that was for sure.

So he held on to Starsky’s and faced the horrified driver.

“Really, we’re okay. Maybe we’ll have our doc look at us later.” They had been looked at many times from many injuries.

Hutch then turned away from the man, and everything going on around them. “We’re okay Starsky, but why…why did you…?”

Simply he said, “I wanted to fly the kite.”

Hutch followed his gaze, and there, near the waters edge, a child of around five was struggling with a Batman kite.

Hutch’s arm and hip really hurt and was going to be damned sore. He knew how sore Starsky had to be, just hoped he wasn’t banged up inside. As they made their way across the road, he watched Starsky limp, but he didn’t seem to be in great pain.

Stopping Starsky as he was opening the passenger’s side door Hutch wrapped an arm around him and asked, “Your leg okay?”

“Sure, yours?”

“I think so, but I’m not limping.”

“Me neither,” Starsky gave a shy smile and looked down, “Guess you’d better drive. I’m s, sorry Hutch. Don’t know what happened.” Shuddering, “I could have killed you.”

“It’s okay Starsky, it’s been weird day.” Hutch thought of all things understated, nothing compared to that. “Let’s go to Hugs, if you’re sure you’re okay.”

Rubbing Hutch’s arm, “My knee hurts. You can look at it later. You sure your shoulder is okay?”

Starsky looked at him with a child’s trust. Hutch would take care of him.

“It’s fine Starsk. Just sore.”

“I’m so sorry, ” he said moving to the other side of the car, Starsky looked down with tearful eyes. “I don’t want to be nuts.”

Hutch brought his hand around to the back of Starsky’s neck grabbing some curls. “You’re not nuts. We’re going to find what’s happening and stop it. I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep babe.

“Hutch, I know things are going on. I dream but it’s not like a dream. I mean all these things that have happened go through my mind. When I dream, I think I’m dreaming. Then I can’t remember parts of them. Like when you stayed that long weekend with Jeannie.”

Hutch swallowed, the dread making him nauseous.

“Starsky dreams are strange. You don’t always remember parts.”

“Hutch, you don’t understand, I can’t remember what happened now, while I’m awake. I don’t know where you were or if you were really missing at all. I remember being real tired and real mad at Huggy’s and then leaving.”

Hutch’s knuckles are white holding the steering wheel. “You don’t remember Forest or Monk or the days at Huggy?”

“I don’t even know if you’re still seeing her, Hutch.”

Hutch looked over at him. Starsky was chewing his lip and staring ahead. Hutch pulled the car onto a side street and parked. It was quiet and private there with old oaks on both sides of the road.

Starsky knew Hutch was waiting. Why didn’t he just stay quiet, he didn’t want Hutch to know just how crazy he was? There was much he couldn’t remember and he felt so strange. He didn’t want Hutch to get a new partner because he had gone crazy. How could he tell him? How could he not?

“Hutch, I’m like a puzzle with pieces missing,”

“Starsk.”

Tears finally flowing Starsky said between gulps, “Hutch I can’t be your partner anymore.”

“What, what in the world?”

“Hutch I’m scared. I nearly got you killed. I’m, I need to go away for a while.”

“You’re not going nuts. Let’s go eat. I promised we’d get to the bottom and we will. Starsky, trust me babe. Hang on for me.”

Starsky looked out the window again as he reached over and took Hutch’s hand in his. Hutch slipped his hand from Starsky’s just long enough to pull back onto the road. Maybe he drove to some answers.

 

PART TWO

The Needful were sated for a time. They knew pleasure only through mortal souls. The simple joys of their Chosen fed them well, and they went again to the place of mortals’ nightmares and nothingness. There, they gathered, their hunger rested.

Starsky dozed a little on the way to Huggy’s, Hutch not letting go of his hand, and the Needful didn’t come.

Parking the Torino in the alley behind the Pits, Hutch, still holding his partner’s hand, squeezed, and shook his hand, nudging him awake. He waited as Starsky stirred and opened his eyes. Starsky was still exhausted; Hutch had been for some time, also. Blue eyes peered out from drowsy eyelids. Exchanging a tentative smile, they let go of each other’s hands and opened the car doors. Neither of them thought they would ever wish for just a plain nightmare.

Standing in the alley, Hutch watched Starsky as he walked, still with a limp, but moving well enough. He decided it was unlikely anything was broken. As he caught up to him, they again exchanged looks, speaking silently — ‘We’re okay as long as it is we.’ Hutch slipped his arm around Starsky’s back, and they entered the Pits.

They squeezed their way past the busy activity at the entrance to the kitchen. Huggy was behind the bar, on the phone. He eyed them and quickly hung up as Hutch leaned over the bar. Huggy spoke lightly, trying to conceal his concern. “I see the truck won. You two been playing in middle of the street again?”

Starsky paled, gave a pitiful glare, and moved to a table in the corner. Hutch took a few minutes to fill Huggy in before joining his partner. Huggy’s eyes widened, as the events of the last twenty-four hours were unfolded for him.

Starsky watched them as Hutch finally moved to join him. Huggy turned back to the bar; Starsky wouldn’t blame him if he took refuge there until this night was over. He wished he could retreat somewhere, or maybe wave a white flag.

Hutch silently took a chair at Starsky’s table, not meeting his eyes. He, too, wished for a retreat, or to wake up. Looking at his ragged, bruised friend, he had the uncontrollable urge to jerk him up and run. Taking a deep breath, Hutch tried to remain calm.

“Did you tell him everything?” Starsky sounded madder than he was. He really didn’t mind such a good friend knowing. Glad it was Hutch telling Huggy, Starsky felt too overwhelmed to talk about what had been happening to him. He shook his head and rubbed at his bruised chin, grimacing.

“Starsky, we do look like….”

“Like I’m nuts and nearly got us killed?”

Hutch let that one go. Nothing he could say would ease the torment of what nearly happened. Hutch calmly continued, “Like we need to get cleaned up, look at that knee.”

Huggy joined them. Whatever he had been told, he’d quickly recovered from. He looked Starsky over and plopped into the chair beside him. Putting two beers on the table, “My friends, I believe you need a brew. Got burgers coming.”

“Thanks, Huggy.” Hutch took a deep breath. “You, ah, had something for us to see.”

“No, one of my charming relatives has something you must see.”

“Your Aunt Millie?” Hutch started.

“The seer?” Starsky cut him off. Indignant disbelief was in his voice. Looking at his beer, he felt wobbly and it irritated him to have to focus on what was being said.

Starsky took a swig, eyes avoiding both men, withdrawing farther from them.

Quietly, Huggy replied. “Starsky, Aunt Millie only wants to see Hutch.”

Starsky looked at Huggy then, flashing angry dark blues, and said, “Then why the hell are we here? And what’d’ya mean, only Hutch? We’re a team.” Huggy shifted his eyes from Starsky to Hutch as Starsky also looked from one to the other and added, “What, Huggy? You’re too dense to figure that out by now?”

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s arm. Starsky tried to shrug if off, but Hutch held firm. “I want to get out of here, Hutch.”

Hutch’s hand remained on Starsky, as did his eyes.

They were quiet a minute, giving Starsky time to pull himself together. Huggy sighed and leaned back into the chair putting some distance between himself and Starsky.

“I thought you called us here for a reason, Huggy. All I want now is to eat and get out of here.” Starsky didn’t sound as angry now, just tired. Hutch’s arm gave him an anchor.

Huggy evenly said, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

“Huggy, I want to know what’s going on here,” Starsky pleaded.

Lowering his voice, “I also have someone who needs to speak with you both, but right now you’d scare Godzilla.” Huggy couldn’t keep his concern hidden. His friend was about to fold.

Hutch leaned close to Starsky and softly reasoned, “Starsk, we’ve got to start looking for answers somewhere.”

Starsky took a swig of beer, put it back on the table, avoiding their eyes. Then, he sat flaking dirt and dried blood off his hands. Hutch lightly hit the table with his fist, making him jump.

“Enough.” Hutch pushed his chair back, grabbed both beers in one large hand and Starsky’s upper arm with the other. “Come on, buddy, let’s clean up.”

Starsky gave no resistance, but Hutch kept his hand firmly in place. Starsky put little weight on his injured leg. Hutch bore most of Starsky’s weight with lips pressed tightly together, his hip aching. They leaned on each other as they made the slow climb.

Hutch didn’t let go till they were at the top of the stairs, and kept his hand on Starsky’s back propelling him into the room.

Once there, Starsky eased himself into a chair near the table while Hutch headed to the bathroom.

“Hutch, why don’t I just go home and clean up?”

Hutch leaned around the bathroom door he had left half open. He had a vision of his disturbed partner bolting. He knew he was way too tired and sore to go after him. “Starsky, we’re going to start keeping extra clothes in the trunk.”

Starsky’s face showed he knew full well Hutch was dodging his question. He slammed his beer on the table, but stayed where he was.

Hutch stood, wishing he had more words. What he could say? He went back to the sink, leaving the door ajar.

Huggy brought two cups of coffee as Hutch came out of the bathroom drying his hair. He was still in the same clothes, but dusted and washed off. “Oh, Huggy, you are the man.”

“And, man, you look anything but. Sure wish I had clean rags here before Miram….” The partners’ look cut off his thought.

Huggy had two sets of blues focused on him. He stopped with his mouth still opened.

Grinning, Starsky asked, “Now, why do we need to get duded up ’cause your cousin, once removed or something, is coming to see you?” Starsky sounded so like himself, Hutch looked at him, amazed at his tenacious grip on normality. Starsky returned the gaze briefly, and then looked down.

Anxiously Huggy said, “Look, I’ll bring food in a sec. Have some coffee while it’s hot. I’ll be right back.” Answering the looks they both gave him, he added, “I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.”

As he moved to the door, he said, “I’ll bring a pot this time.”

Starsky pushed the beer around some, then took a sip of coffee. Huggy called over his shoulder, “Oh, you know where the first aid kit is, seeing how’s you’re the only use it gets.”

Smiling, Starsky set his coffee down. “Hutch,” he waited till blue eyes met, “thanks.”

When the partners searched their shared souls, the Needful were as close to fear as they could know it. The Other was seeing too much.

The air became cold, suffocating Hutch as he reached, grasping through the indigo into the soul of this man. A place where a child believed and loved. Nothing asked, nothing held back. And Hutch loved this soul. Clutching, pulling, Starsky’s precious soul joined tighter with his own.

The Takers knew not the full power just given to the Chosen.

Their eyes still locked, Hutch jerked, the cold left, and coffee was coming close to the rim of Starsky’s cup. His eyes were still on Hutch, who closed his hands on Starsky’s hand and cup, stopping the shaking. He took the cup from him, set it down, and again took Starsky’s hand and smiled. “You’re going to be fine, Starsk.” And taking in a deep breath, “It’s me and thee, babe.”

“Hutch,” said softly as Starsky touched Hutch’s cheek.

Huggy had stopped short of the doorway, waiting. He couldn’t understand what was happening, but knew the partners needed that moment. He, too, had felt the cold as he stood there.

Turning, neither detective was surprised to see him there. Huggy knew Hutch would see Millie tomorrow. He would make that happen.

“Hey, food.” Hutch took a plate from Huggy and pulled up a chair.

“Two Huggy specials, fries and a bite of apple pies.”

“Or Huggy’s big surprise,” Starsky chimed with a real Starsky gleam, slowly getting out of the chair.

“Yep! Come on, buddy, hurry, you don’t want cold food,” Hutch said with a mouthful.

“That’s right, cold don’t do this justice.”

“This food has no justice,” Starsky did grab a fry as he stiffly made his way toward the bathroom. “This food gives a name to no justice. How can you justify eating this food?”

With a pained look, Hutch said, “Starsky….”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t making sense here”

Huggy cut Hutch off. “And you’re saying he makes sense somewhere else?”

Starsky grunted. “Aren’t we just so funny?”

“Yes, we are, thank you,” Huggy said in all seriousness. “Glad you recognize our sophisticated sense of humor.”

Rolling his eyes, Starsky mumbled, “Yeah, right.”

Hutch, as if speaking to a child, said, “Starsky, go, wash up, and take off those pants.”

“Hey, I’m not that easy.”

Both smiling, Huggy took Starsky’s chair. They silently sat a minute, Hutch gulping down a few bites.

Teasingly, Huggy said, “Either I need to patent that recipe or you’re mighty hungry.”

Hutch mumbled through mouthfuls, “Sleeping and eating haven’t fit well in our recreational activities recently.” Finally, after he’d eaten enough to stall starvation, he asked, “Huggy, want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Hutch, you asking me? In case you haven’t noticed, your partner’s not exactly rowing with both oars.”

Huggy drank some coffee, taking his time. This talk was something he didn’t look forward to. “You remember Miram?”

“Yeah, your cousin, pretty girl.”

“Once or twice removed. She’s one of Aunt Millie’s favorites. And you’re right, not hard on the eyes at all. Remember last New Year’s Eve party?” Huggy replied.

Hutch remembered the cute little thing with huge lovely eyes who was as bouncy as Starsky.

Huggy continued. “Right.” Hutch felt his nerves begging to just let go. “Her new husband….”

“Killed himself. Does she doubt that?”

“No, but she said he was attacked by demons.”

Hutch tried for a wry face, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “Demons, huh?”

“You aren’t so sure are you?” Huggy’s family had dealt with the occult enough for him to believe in most anything.

“It’s not demons.” Then Hutch shook his head, shaking a little all over. “What has this got to do with Starsky and me?”

“It has to do with you because you have to do with Starsky.”

“Wh, What?”

“Hutch, it has a lot to do with Starsky.”

Hutch was getting agitated.

“I just want to know if there was any way they could have met.” Huggy stated.

“He met the girl at the party. You know that.” Hutch had a wave fear wash over him. He suddenly didn’t want his partner out of his sight.

“No, I meant her fiancé, uh, husband. Did he ever meet…”

“…the one who leaped out that window? No, Hug.” Getting up, Hutch began to gravitate toward the bathroom. “Why?”

“Look, she’ll be back in an hour. I’ve got paying customers and you’ve got a leg to doctor.” Huggy started for the door. “Talk, and then I’ll call Millie.”

Before Hutch could have asked anything else, he was out the door. All Hutch wanted to do was check on Starsky. He felt cold, and the waves of fear were making him nauseous.

Starsky hadn’t closed the bathroom door. The image in the mirror was certainly his, no beasties there. Dirt mixed with dried blood down the side of his face and chin reflected back at him. Maybe he did look a little like a beastie. Starsky chuckled out loud … that felt good. He was tired of whatever was going on. He gingerly washed his face, hands, and arms. The dirt in his hair could wait till a warm shower later. Looking at the still bruised image in the mirror, he mumbled, “Shit, I want my own bed tonight.” He knew, though, that would put his long legged, sore butted best friend on the couch. No, they’d stay at Hutch’s. He smiled thinking of the double meaning here of sore butt.

Drying his arms, he remembered his friend’s arms, now bruised and scratched, wrapped so tightly around him, throwing them both to safety. Hutch, knowing he would have gotten the brunt hit from the car, if they hadn’t been lucky, or watched after. Starsky had felt Hutch’s heart and breath so close against him.

Starsky’s eyes filled with tears, knowing he couldn’t let Hutch take another chance like that. Whatever was wrong with him, he couldn’t let it hurt Hutch.

The Devourers of love hungered and gathered. They came as a cold unknown to mortals. The other one felt Them and They knew. They felt his fear and hatred of them; They felt the veil lifting from the Other’s eyes. They were not ready for this, not yet. They were not ready for the Other to find them.

Starsky leaned against the sink and splashed his face. He brought his head up, eyes blurry with tears and water. Everything became cold. Iridescent light, hands, and faces swam before him, white surrounding him, he began to tremble, but didn’t go away like before.

Memories reaching, he saw the eyes of the father. His beautiful daughter shocked, beyond speech. Savagely raped. Her mind changed forever.

Jim, confused, wrapped in foil, falling. He should have hated this man, but no, he felt only sadness.

No, Rosey, she didn’t die, no. He felt utterly confused. What part of the anguish was true and what part was lies?

Starsky felt himself being pulled in so many directions, as if he were coming apart. Hurting from the inside, sharp and throbbing, something being ripped from his gut. Images were swimming and mixed with the pain, and Starsky screamed, begging for release. Then he heard his name. In the mirror the swimming stopped, and the bright light dimmed. He felt Hutch’s hand pressed against his chest over his heart. Then he felt the love and heard music. “Hold on babe, I won’t let go. Follow me out, Starsk.”

Then his soul cried for that girl and that father. He knew Rosey was alive. Reality was close. And the white and cold were gone. The images cleared, and there was Hutch, glaring into the mirror. Blond hair framed a pale face, and eyes as cold and dark as space. He looked ready to take on a legion of beasties.

Starsky turned. Meeting those beloved eyes that softened with love and concern. Hutch smiled and had the look of someone who had just kicked butt.

Then, Hutch’s adrenaline rush was gone and he started to sway on his feet. Starsky took the few steps to his pal and wrapped him in his arms, holding steady.

“Starsky….”

“Hey, babe, you okay?”

Hutch grimaced. “God, Starsky, you’re lucky to still have a mind.”

“It’s getting hard to hold on, Hutch. What’s going on?”

“Babe, I don’t know, but I saw Them, and They have a weakness. It’s going to be okay, I know it is, but it’ll have to be us together.” He lifted Starsky’s chin with his finger, inches from eyes so wide, the blue appeared nearly black again, like storm clouds. “Do you understand, Starsky? We can hold on together.” Starsky nodded, mesmerized. “Come on, let’s doctor that knee. Get your pants off.”

Starsky believed Hutch with simple, childlike trust. Starsky had no idea just how powerful that trust was. He just knew he’d better get out of his pants, and let Hutch torture him some with the first aid kit.

~~~~~~~~~~

Do you know the secrets of his soul?
Can you hold onto them?
Is your love strong enough to keep them safe for him?

“Starsky, this leg’s a mess.” Starsky ignored him. He was stretched out on the bed wearing only briefs, his injured leg bent at the least painful angle. His eyes were buried in his arm, hoping to conceal some of the pain. “It’s going to hurt like hell,” Hutch said, chewing on his bottom lip.

Starsky’s leg had born the weight of both men as they hit the shoulder of that highway before sliding to safety. It was a miracle it wasn’t broken. The leg was swollen and had gravel partially embedded in it. Hutch knew Starsky needed stitches. Blood still oozed with every movement of the injured leg. Without antibiotics, infection was sure to set in. That would have to wait. Hutch sat on the bed, one foot solidly propped on the floor. Starsky needed more than what this little medical kit could give. Hutch knew that wouldn’t happen either—his care, and the kit, would be all Starsky would allow today.

As Hutch began cleaning the red, swollen area around the lacerations, Starsky pushed into the mattress and groaned. “Starsky it looks like bloody raw hamburger. I don’t want to do this.”

Starsky peered out from under his arm and scowled. “Then leave it alone.”

“I don’t care much for the smell of rotting flesh.” Hutch snorted. His blue eyes darkened as he silently begged, Please, babe, I don’t want to hurt you.

Cobalt blue answered. It’s okay, I know. It’s my call.

Hutch squeezed Starsky’s ankle, swallowed hard, and liberally poured disinfect on the wounds. Other than digging a little deeper into the covers, and a barely audible gasp, Starsky was still. Using gauze, Hutch wiped at the dirt and dried blood. It took all of Starsky’s self control to lay there. He held his breath, trying to control the pain.

When Hutch scrapped a small stone loose, Starsky couldn’t stop a moan. Hutch wiped more blood away and then putting his hand on Starsky’s thigh to steady them both, he took a few deep breaths himself.

“Starsky, the ER would deaden your leg. There’s a couple of more that’ve gotta come out.” Hutch looked up as Huggy came through the door, closing it behind him.

Hutch’s voice was thin as he said, “Let’s rest a minute.” He’d rather have the pain himself, than cause it for Starsky, but knew this had to be done.

“You need anything?” Huggy asked, not knowing what to say.

“Something to drink, Hug. A doctor, some medicine, aspirin,” Hutch dryly replied.

Walking into the bathroom, Huggy called to him, “I can sure handle the thirst.” He ran cold water over a washcloth, and went to Starsky.

Hutch moved Starsky’s arm enough to allow Huggy to wipe his face with the cool water. They were rewarded by a small grin. Hutch said, “You’re doing fine. Not much longer.”

Starsky looked at him reassuringly. “Get it over with, `fore you flake on me.”

Looking Hutch over, Huggy agreed. “Yeah, blond and beautiful, you look pale even for you. I’ll bring something to help you dudes get back in working order. You got ’bout thirty minutes before Miram gets here.”

Starsky again waved thanks with his free hand. Hutch rubbed the arm he still held and then put it back over Starsky’s eyes. Picking up the disinfectant bottle, he called out, “Thanks, Hug,” as the door shut.

Hutch poured the disinfectant over the gauze again. Gently squeezing Starsky’s thigh, he asked, ‘Ready, babe?”

Tensing against the pain, Starsky replied, “Yeah, take your best shot.”

Hutch took a breath and dug the last two tiny stones from under the skin. Starsky, who had been holding his breath, let it out with a groan. The pitiful sound reminded Hutch to breathe also.

Hutch poured the disinfectant over the wound for the last time, smiling as he wrapped the leg with gauze. “All done, babe… , and now we’ll see about some antibiotic cream.”

Huggy entered the room carrying a tray with glasses and a pitcher. Perfect timing, Hutch was through. Huggy would have done anything for the partners. He loved them dearly, but he never cared for emergency rooms. That’s certainly where Starsky should have been today. Right now, Huggy had exactly what they needed. Smiling broadly, he quipped, “Fresh juice from the fruit, oranges that is.”

“Ah, Huggy, I’ll dance at your wedding,” Starsky said, gingerly sliding to the edge of the bed.

Putting the tray on the table, Huggy said, “Well, with the looks of you, I’m glad it won’t be anytime soon.” Huggy poured a glass of juice and handed it to Hutch as he came around the bed.

Hutch took a couple of sips and handed the glass to Starsky. “Here, make you feel better.” Hutch waited till the glass was nearly half empty and then headed to the bathroom.

Hutch tried to rinse off the disinfectant, knowing the smell would be around a while. Starsky’s leg was saturated with it and so were Hutch’s sleeves. Hutch grabbed Starsky’s torn and bloodied jeans off of the towel rack. He hated the thought of him putting the germ-ridden things back on.

Starsky was still sitting on the edge of the bed drinking the juice when Hutch came out of the bathroom. Looking at his improved color, Hutch threw Huggy a glance of thanks. Then he threw the ratty jeans on foot of the bed.

Starsky began to struggle with the snug jeans. “Wish we had another pair,” Hutch said, as he tried to help him pull up the jeans. They made a better team on the street, dealing with scum of the Earth, than attacking those tight pants.

“Really,” Starsky muttered, followed by moans, grunts, and words that Hutch chose not to hear.

“Well, Miriam will be here any time.” Huggy crossed his arms and watched. The two guided the snug jeans carefully over the already red gauze. Huggy snorted. “You know, I could charge for this show.”

They finally made it as far as his crotch, when Starsky slapped Hutch’s hand out of the way. “I’m not unconscious you know. Shit, Hutch, you going to tuck me in?” Hutch just gave him the famous Hutch grin in response.

Starsky glanced at him, giving a short nod. Hutch sighed. “Well, we’re about as ready as we’ll be today, Hug.”

Huggy nodded, and left the room.

The tension in the air was a living thing. The partners crossed to the table. “You look better,” Hutch said as Starsky plopped into a chair.

“Yeah, well.” Starsky’s dread didn’t leave much room for words.

Hutch grabbed a glass of juice and sat down heavily.

Miriam was a pretty girl. Her eyes were much like her cousin’s— the color of rich chocolate and almond shaped. They were so expressive a few months ago, but now they appeared lifeless. Hutch looked over at Starsky, who seemed completely uninterested in anything around him. He had the same dulled look as the girl. Two beautiful people, whose bounce of life was gone.

Huggy had a protective hand under her elbow. A large manila envelope was clutched in her hand. She looked a little like a lost child. Again, Hutch’s gaze wandered to Starsky.

Huggy, attempting a smile, said, “You remember my cousin, Miriam.”

Hutch smiled and took hold of her hand. “Of course, you’re the beautiful girl who took pity on my partner and danced in the New Year with him.”

Finally, a grin from Starsky. He said, “For which I am grateful.” He didn’t get up, but pulled a chair out for her between Hutch and himself.

No one said anything for the first few uncomfortable minutes. Hutch sat on the other side of Miriam. Huggy, standing near the door, closed it quietly. He broke the silence, figuring he was the only one with brains still intact. “Miriam, you wanted them to see something.”

“Aunt Millie told me to bring this to you. I wanted to leave it be.” They looked at her, waiting, Hutch dreading what was to come. “You see, my husband was a wonderful man and very talented.”

“We’re very sorry, Miriam,” Hutch said, with sincerity

“He killed himself, you know. We had only been married a month.” She stopped speaking, her eyes wide and bewildered. In a few moments, she continued. “Then one weekend, we both had a holiday and we went to the mountains. Camped out, hiked, and he sketched. I brought a great book. We did that a lot, you know. He’d draw and I’d read.” She paused for several minutes.

The uneasiness was grating on Hutch’s nerves. Not daring to look at his partner, Hutch interrogated. “And something happened? You wanted to tell us about a camping trip? Do you want us to see what you’re holding?”

She lowered her voice and leaned away from him. Gripping the envelope even tighter, she said, “My husband loved life, Detective.”

Hutch had not realized he’d gone into cop mode. Drinking more juice, his eyes roamed over to his partner. Starsky looked blank, his fingers pulling threads from the tear in his pants. His leg had to hurt, but his face showed nothing, not even have pain. His juice glass was still in the other hand, its contents beginning to pour out and onto the floor. Hutch took a brief step around Miram, and took the glass from Starsky’s lax hand, neither one noticed. Hutch sat down again.

She continued, her anguished voice cutting. “Always a child at heart. He loved completely, cared for many, but shared his soul only with me.” For a few minutes everyone was quiet, as she rested from the emotional strain.

Huggy moved from his position at the door and poured her a glass of juice. “Are you okay?”

She smiled sweetly and answered, “Yes Huggy. Thanks, cuz.” Huggy smiled fondly; this was a special lady.

Her voice was more normal as she continued. “The first day and night were wonderful.” She sighed. “The next day was stormy; never rained, but the wind blew and the sky—I’ve never seen the sky like that—so many blues, and it looked like the sky was swimming.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, everything was so strange. I do know this.” Her eyes bore into Starsky’s. “Nothing was the same after that storm.”

Starsky had been still, but now he started lightly rubbing across the growing red on the gauze. He muttered, “The storm … did he dream about the storm? Did he dream about the things swimming?”

The hairs on the backs of Hutch’s and Huggy’s necks stood on end, and the cold seemed to whisper to them.

Miriam leaned toward Starsky and slowly said, “Yes, they came in his dreams.”

Starsky’s mouth was slightly parted as he struggled for each breath. She leaned even closer. So close, Hutch had to move nearer to hear.

“He danced like you, Starsky, completely in step with the music, and with pure joy.”

The same way you both live, Hutch thought.

She looked at Starsky with such pity. This girl who had lost the love of her life looked at Starsky with such sadness, Hutch abruptly stood, knocking over his chair.

“Miriam, you have something to show us?” Miriam had been speaking in such a low voice, Hutch sounded as if he were yelling.

That broke the spell the room was under. Hutch had no explanation for the cold that seemed to move around them. The only movement from Starsky was his breathing and his eyes that watched Miriam as she removed sketches from the large envelope. His hands stilled now.

Handing the first sketch to Hutch, her eyes brushed his before going back to Starsky’s. “He did this a couple of weeks before he before his death. The only watercolor I ever knew him to do.”

Hutch studied the picture. It was good, but nothing like he’d ever seen. Strange, like the storm when Starsky had that seizure, or whatever it was. Colors mixed together making all shades of blue. He handed it over to Starsky, who stared, but said nothing.

The second one made Hutch gasp and Starsky actually look at him for the first time since Miriam arrived. It was of the old coin, or whatever it was, that Starsky had in his drawer. It was circular, with flat edges. In the middle, the drawing showed a tiny chasm. Hutch thought what an odd word “chasm” was to pop into his head for something that small. The chasm made him think of looking down into a volcano. A minuscule volcano.

He reluctantly passed the drawing to Starsky, who turned even paler, if that was possible. “It’s that thing I found, Hutch.”

“It sure seems like it. Yours has sharp edges though,” Hutch said evenly. “Could have been chipped. Certainly old.”

“It even has the little hole in it. Even in the drawing you can see way, way down. There’s no bottom. It’s just endless.”

Hutch jerked the picture from him. “It’s a picture of a funny rock, Starsk.”

Miriam was holding the last sketch. Sad eyes looked intently from one man to the other. “He did this one the night he — died. I found it on the table by the window. Aunt Millie said you both must see it. Then Hutch is to come to her.”

“Wha why?” Starsky stammered, but didn’t try to finish when Hutch reached over and put his hand on his leg.

Eyes piercing into Hutch’s, Miriam carefully said, “Aunt Millie will see only Hutch.”

“Terrific,” Starsky said as he found the bloody gauze interesting again. He traced his fingers over the red, and then held his hand up. Finding some blood on his index finger, he began feeling it with his thumb, rubbing it in circles. “Why?” He asked it sounding far away and uninterested.

“We’ll know that after I meet with her,” Hutch answered him, trying to keep the fear and dread he was feeling out of his voice.

Starsky inched forward to the edge of his seat, the pain in his leg now unnoticed. His hands rested on his knees and his eyes were wide, blue, and shining.

Miriam carefully handed the last sketch to Hutch. “I wish I knew what to say. I… I have no words,” she sputtered with tears in her eyes.

Hutch looked at the sketch, and sheer terror was instantly etched on his face. His whole being was riveted by the image on the piece of paper that changed his concept of reality forever. Hutch wasn’t aware of the movement as Starsky slowly stood and reached for the drawing.

The eyes in the sketch held an absolute terror of coldness and fear. All the things that make nightmares were there. For a moment Hutch knew nothing in the room, only the piece of paper he held. He had seen these things from hell reflected in Huggy’s bathroom mirror, reflections from Starsky. And as his mind finally began to register, he knew Starsky mustn’t see this. Then, he felt Starsky move.

Hutch heard the gasp at his shoulder and felt Starsky as he fell. He dropped the picture and grabbed for his partner. Hutch hadn’t even heard him get up, or felt him leaning over his shoulder until it was too late.

Starsky was pale, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Hutch, on his knees at his friend’s side, rubbed his arm and begged him to hear. The sketch, lying face up by his head, was the mirror image of Starsky.

Miriam picked up the sketch of Starsky and, crying, put it in her folder. She quietly left.

~~~~~~~~~~

When they come and are filled,
Needful things in dreams are gorged,
And to you his soul will be returned,
But his mind will be no more.

Hutch was near shock himself. Knowing he had to calm down enough to see about his partner, he took some deep breaths.

Starsky was unconscious as Hutch took his hand, whitewalls cold and clammy. Brushing some curls away from his face, he rubbed his thumb across Starsky’s cheek, feeling the coldness there. Then Hutch put his hand on Starsky’s midriff, feeling his shallow breathing and racing heartbeat. Hutch sat on the floor, took off his light jacket and covered his friend. Still touching him, he said, “Oh, buddy.” At the sound of Hutch’s voice, Starsky stirred, blinking his eyes.

“Hutch, Hutch, did you see?”

“Shush, I’m here.”

With his voice rising, Starsky said, “It was me!”

“I know, Starsky. There’s got to be a reason.”

“Yeah, maybe we’re nuts.”

Hutch followed his gaze to the door. Huggy stood in the doorway looking helpless. “Well, then, we could start a club. It was Starsky all right. Aunt Millie’s call was waiting for me. She says it’s time.” Looking pointly at Starsky, he added, “But she won’t let him come.”

The partners looked at each other for a long time. Hutch could feel that his breathing and heart had slowed. Their gaze was broken as Starsky’s eyes closed. Sliding his hand around to his back, Hutch lifted him to a sitting position. “Come on buddy,” Huggy helped as Hutch pulled at him saying, “Let’s get you on the bed.”

“‘Kay, sleepy.”

“You’re going to have a nap, Starsk, and you’ll feel better. Then, we’re going to work this out.”

Starsky didn’t say anything and he was limp as they got him into bed, shivering as they dumped him in the covers. Huggy pulled the spread over him. Hutch frowned as he watched Starsky burrowing into the covers, groaning every time he moved his sore leg. Hutch stood, unmoving, until Starsky finally found a suitable position and sighed.

“You gotta go, man. Hutch, I’ll be here, and she won’t keep you away from him long; you gotta go,” Huggy chanted.

Glancing back at Huggy, Hutch said, “I know.” Wrinkling his brow, he asked, “Hug?”

Huggy was moving the chair into position to keep vigil over Starsky the same way Starsky had sat with Hutch months ago. “I’ll be here.”

Hutch put his knee on the bed and leaned down to speak into Starsky’s ear. “Rest, Starsk, we’re going to find an answer, I promise.” He touched his head to the side of Starsky’s face, then without looking back, took the note with directions from Huggy’s hand and walked out the door.

Aunt Millie’s house was a small, plain cottage. Located in Westchester, not more than twenty minutes away, but the drive seemed an eternity. Hutch was nearly frantic about being away from Starsky, and about this talk with Millie. He couldn’t believe that what was happening was more than mumbo jumbo, but right now, he had no other explanation. Maybe she could tell him how the dead man had such a likeness of Starsky in his possession.

Led into the living room by one of Aunt Millie’s innumerable nephews, Hutch was far too tense to sit. Flowered wallpaper, nearly every inch covered by pictures, made the room look even smaller that it was. As the walls seemed to close in, Hutch walked the perimeter, looking at the photos and paintings. Many were of children and some were done by children. Millie had a large family, but no children of her own.

An oak cabinet, not quite an antique, and a narrow table crowded a short hallway leading into the bedroom. The door was opened but Hutch didn’t glance in. Children’s handmade objects and a collection of crystals filled most of the cabinet. There were also some beautiful pieces of ivory and jade carvings.

On the shorter table were collection of small stones, pieces of wood gum and gum wrappers. A few coins, mostly dimes, a wad of paper with some writing on it, a wrinkled handkerchief, two rubber bands, and what Hutch knew would be a fake ant, made up the pile. Hutch stared for a minute, the hair on the back of his neck up, and shuddered. He had made an identical pile last Saturday when he washed the jeans Starsky had taken off. They were doubling and he had changed at Hutch’s. Hutch had wondered if he had collected ‘interesting rocks’ on his date.

Hutch was examined a small collection of shells and bottles of colored sand on a shelf of the cabinet. Illuminating color light drew his eyes to a crystal the size of a grapefruit on the top shelf of the case. How had he not noticed it before? Pictures formed and blended with a kaleidoscope of movement much as reflections on a pond when disturbed by a stone—ripples carrying distorted images away. Looking closer, unable to move his eyes from it, Hutch stared into the crystal. It was beautiful.

Then, a warm breath lightly brushed against his hair and across his face, pulling his eyes to the painting on the wall above the crystal. Light bounced off the crystal onto the painting, into the storm clouds swirling over an ocean, making a maelstrom of blue breathtaking. Starsky’s storm of swirling contorted images a picture of pure beauty and horror. The macabre picture was painted in the vortex of a stone frame. Starsky’s stone, except this one wasn’t chipped. It was smooth where his had a sharp edge.

The painting was in a round stone frame, the edge about an inch thick, encircling the sea and storm like cliffs. Looking slowly all around the edge, his eyes slid back to the sea and storm. Where ocean and sky touched—creating the blue of Starsky’s eyes—he saw them; and fell into the vortex of horror. Images swam and memories began to form and then dissipate along with feelings and ideas—things that make souls. And in that pit he saw part his own soul, or was it Starsky’s, they were so bonded, where did one end and the other one start? He gasped, and for a second, again saw the Needy, their eyes hungrily looking out at him.

Not realizing he spoke aloud, “Thi this is what…” and he made himself breathe. “This is what comes in your dreams, huh Starsk.”

This is the Them,
That comes to him,
Taking his soul.
Making you his keeper,
Until the beginning of forever,
And then he will be made whole.

“Yes detective, this is the ancient terror that comes to your friend. You have seen them again, and have given them fear. They will not rest till the soul of your friend is taken from him and used for their pleasure. Then it will be returned to you. You will become the keeper of his most precious being until you go to eternity together. Brighten his beloved keeper, he will be whole again, and with you forever.”

Hutch had not heard Aunt Millie come in or cross the floor. Although she was standing a no more than two feet from him, he had not sensed her there. Nor did he have any idea how long she had been standing behind him.

He was painfully aware of the cluttered flowered walls making the room smaller. Each breath was labored and his heart pounded, unable to speak—his analytical mind was trying to rationalized what he just experienced—So, startled at her presence he twisted around and stood, mouth gaped and eyes round, and looked into dark eyes, so like Huggy’s.

Aunt Millie saw eyes as true and deep as they were blue. Even with his mouth gaped and eyes wide, this man was exquisite; he could have stepped from her niece’s book of myths and legends. Millie saw into his soul; it was as beautiful as his body. She wanted to ease the torment he suffered for this one he loved unconditionally. Hoping she could prepare him for the battle, knowing if not he and his friend would be lost, because he would never willingly let his partner be sacrificed, no matter what the cost to himself; or probably most anyone else.

Hutch had no idea how long he stood, but he finally closed his mouth, stood blinking and chewing his bottom lip.

Millie tried for a smile. “Come Detective Hutchinson, have some tea.”

Hutch found he could smile at this woman; he felt hope. “Ken, please. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

They tease my mind,
Filling it so,
They know its near time,
And I’m letting go.

Sleep, I’m so tired. So dark, Hutch hurries back. I’m so alone, and it’s so dark. Light—no—no light, that light. Hurts my eyes,—It burns, it burns, oh, damn my head! Hutch, Hutch please, where are you? It hurts, all over hurts. —They are here, in the light, like burning worms. — All over, on me—they’re in me—I can’t scream—Let me scream—let me go. Please let me die. Make the pain go away.

Please, please, go away. Leave me alone. No, no don’t hurt him. Damn it leave him alone! I’ll go with you. Please, I’ll go— Just leave him alone. Don’t touch him! No! NO! Damnit, stop this wind. You’re pulling out his arms. Oh, Hutch, what am I doing to you. I’m so sorry, oh, Hutch. —No, the blood, Hutch, No! Not you! Not you! Please take me, I’ll go anyplace you want just leave.

Starsky writhed on the bed, unable to wake from his dream. Huggy tried to wake him, to comfort, but he kept yelling for Hutch. Frantic shaking and slapping his face brought him around. Finally he was still and his arms Huggy had been gripping so tight relaxed and he stared, blankly. He sat there a minute or two, staring and not seeing.

Then, shaking his head and sliding his legs over the side of the bed, he said evenly, “Excuse me, Huggy.”

“Where you going?” Huggy asked, sounding pretty damn normal.

“To the potty, is that okay with you?” Starsky growled sarcastically.

“Just leave the door opened.”

Starsky forced his tired body and throbbing head and leg toward the bathroom, throwing back, “You know, Huggy, you and that partner of mine seem to be getting a fixation with my toilet habits.”

“Yeah, I live for a peek. Just leave the door cracked.”

Huggy badly needed a drink, or at least coffee. But there was no way could he leave this poor tormented friend. He wished Hutch would hurry back and prayed he would bring answers with him.

Hurry my friend,
You’ve been gone,
Way too long.
And we’re not near the end.
So let him get the stone,
And throw it into the sea,
But you can’t take him home,
In Our blue storm he’ll stay.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Needful basked in the burning, and the screams.
Fire in his veins, terror beyond his dreams,
They knew the way now to ultimately win,
Using shared love of the purest of friends.

Huggy walked around the room a few more times, glancing furtively at the partially opened door. “Hey, Starsky, finding everything you need?” Huggy felt uncomfortable standing at the bathroom door waiting. He didn’t have the ‘no personal space’ thing Starsky and Hutch shared. They seemed oblivious to the fact that personal space was nonexistent between them.

“Yes, Huggy, it seems that everything in here is intact.”

Huggy stopped in middle of the bedroom. “Ah, hey, man, ah, did you find the clean towel? I just put it -”

“Hug, just read your mag and chill. I’ll be out in a minute.”

When Starsky finally emerged from the bathroom, his appearance had improved, but dark circles under his eyes and the bloody knee were painful reminders that things were far from normal. Huggy knew he couldn’t leave Starsky alone in the room long enough to get that beer he craved.

As if reading his mind, Starsky tiredly said, “Huggy, take a break. I’m just going to rest a little longer. Hutch’ll be here soon.”

Huggy hoped he was right about that. “It’s okay. Like you said, he’ll be back soon.”

As he lay back down, Starsky told him, “Suit yourself, it’s your evening.” He got a loud grunt for an answer. Fluffing one pillow, he snuggled into it, and reached for the other one. Finally settled with both pillows elevating his head, he glanced at Huggy who was pretending to read a magazine. “Hey.”

Huggy lowered the magazine, and was surprised to find dark blue eyes boring a hole through him. “What it is?” asked Huggy.

“Would you mind handing me one of those magazines?”

“Sure.” Picking up the magazine and leaning over enough to toss it, Huggy studied Starsky’s face.

“You know if you take a picture it will last longer,” Starsky said as he began looking through the magazine. After a minute, he lowered it and—without looking at him—said, “Thanks, Hug.”

Huggy smiled, hoping this would be over for them very soon. “Hey, friends ya know. Anyway, if it all works out, I’ll get brownie points from Aunt Millie.”

Starsky would have liked to talk more or read the magazine in front of his face, anything to make the nightmare seem like just a nightmare. Fatigue pushed thoughts and even pain beyond him. That floating, sweet, euphoric feeling was quickly overcoming him, and his eyes and mind were shutting down from the drugged sensation. Hutch, I want you back, here, don’t let Them come.

Hutch heard Starsky calling and as a two way signal sent love and strength back. Hold on Starsk, hold on to me.

Aunt Millie knew the intensity of this bond and she wanted to protect this handsome man. Please, she thought, no more sadness. It hurt to think of such a wonderful man being destroyed as well as his friend, but she knew he was in grave danger. Yet he was the only one who could help his partner whose poor soul was being tormented. Looking at Hutch, Aunt Millie knew he had felt the call from this one to whom he was so bonded. Millie prayed that Hutch could be strong enough, and their love unique enough to banish these vile creatures.

Starsky felt Hutch’s soul, and clung to it, knowing Hutch was always there for him. When Starsky was shot in the back, bleeding and in shock, Hutch defied a bullet to go to his partner, saving him and others that night. Starsky remembered the loving touch and gentle voice giving him comfort. Then he had rested in the knowledge that Hutch would take care of everything. He loved his Hutch more than life or even his own sanity.

Hutch would be there for him, always, no matter the cost. Starsky recalled Hutch holding an exhausting vigil in a stiff hospital chair, falling asleep, his head slumped on Starsky’s bed. Starsky woke to the tickling of blond hair on his arm. He smiled, remembering the love and wonder he felt, scratching his arm through the soft hair of his hero.

They came to him, teasing like buzzing flies, and he shooed Them away. They would have to gather and regroup. Hateful things were scattered—the minds of the partners were too joined that moment. Starsky slept, imagining the feel of Hutch’s hair on his arm, and for a while, rested.

Make no mistake,
They’ll have his soul.
Whatever it takes,
He’ll never again be whole.

Hutch sat on the vintage couch facing Aunt Millie, her back as straight as the chair she was in. Huggy had said she was in her late sixties, but with her timeless features, she could have been forty. After the shock of the painting had worn off enough for him to think again, Hutch was surprised at her ordinary attire. Most of Huggy’s relatives, and of course the man himself, dressed flamboyantly, to say the least. Knowing that this lady was supposed to be a seer, Hutch expected something far different then the plain slacks and simple sweater.

Sinking deeper into the overstuffed couch, Hutch was enjoying the delicious honey sweetened tea nearly enough not to flinch under the scrutiny off those intense dark eyes. They were so like Huggy’s, just as intelligent and kind. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t uncomfortable under her eyes studying him so intently.

“Mrs. ?”

“Aunt Millie, please, Kenneth.”

Smiling, “Yes, Aunt Millie, this tea is very good.”

“Thank you. I find honey makes it special, like laughter does to life. Your friend, he brings much laughter into your life and so much more.”

Hutch smiled. “And so much more, you are so right. He’s hurting, Millie, I think I’m losing him and I don’t know what to do.”

“You know Them, you have seen Them in your friend’s pleading eyes. You have heard them in his screams.”

Hutch wanted to argue, to point out the ridiculous path this conversation was taking, but couldn’t. He had seen Them, more than once. Starsky was being tormented and Hutch didn’t know how long he could keep his sanity. So, he leaned toward this woman, sensing, like Huggy did, that she had answers. Also knowing he wouldn’t like them.

Millie looked deep into the steady blue eyes—clear and honest—like a bright summer sky. “Kenneth, you have already been touched by them. They will go to gather someplace else, and this must be our last meeting.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, thinking that summed up everything. He understood nothing of what had been happening. It had to be a nightmare, hypnotic suggestion, maybe from that table magician at the little Italian restaurant where they ate Tuesday. They would just have to stop eating at Italian restaurants—although it would be hard to convince Starsky of that. Hutch’s thoughts rambled, trying to think of anything other then the insane reality in which he and his partner now found themselves.

“Detective, you must listen to me.” She was not loud, but her tone and use of ‘detective’ told Hutch he must have been drifting a few minutes. She sat and looked at him, sternly waiting. “You don’t have much time.”

“I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“For your friend, perhaps very little.” Holding her hand up as he began to protest, she said, “I realize you will not take heed to save yourself, so we will quickly move beyond that. You know They are strong with your partner. If I could say or do anything to convince you to stop you from throwing away your life, I would.”

“Millie, you don’t understand he’s my best friend, he’s more.”

“More than a brother. I know he is part of your soul. I will help all I can.” Millie felt moisture in her eyes. She liked this young man and didn’t want to think of the waste.

“Kenneth, I would like to tell you about my late husband.” She leaned back and drank some of her tea. Hutch could see this wouldn’t be easy for either of them.

She searched his eyes and he let her, the way he had only allowed Starsky before. He allowed her to see his truths and fears, all that he was. He had the illusion of the room tilting vertigo. He set the cup on the mahogany coffee table and listened.

“My husband was a unique man and a gifted engineer. He and his partner were young and wanted to make a difference in the world. Yes, much like you and your partner. They were also closer than brothers. I knew no matter how much my Philip loved me, his love for his friend wouldn’t diminish. I was the love of his life, his soul mate, but Nathan was part of his soul. It wasn’t hard to love Nathan. He was so childlike and found life such a wonder. We also became close.”

Hutch was enthralled by the melody of her voice. Her tone didn’t change with the mention of Nathan, but Hutch wanted to stop listening. What he wanted to do, he thought again, was wake up, and he had been away from Starsky too long.

“They built bridges and dams and structures, whatever was needed by people throughout the world. Often I went with him. We were young and I also thought we could make a difference. So, I taught many children, and some adults, how to read and write. Together, we gave hope. That winter, in a far off region of the world, I was with my Philip and his Nathan. They were building a dam in a region where floods killed many, and even more starved when crops were destroyed by lack of rain in the summer. It was a difficult, yet wonderful time. Children would gather to learn, laughing and playing, utterly delightful.”

Hutch was leaning over, hands on his knees. Listening intently, feeling such dread, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. Millie stopped, and her eyes grew distant, seeing pain Hutch knew she never wanted to share.

“It had been raining hard for days, washing down the rocks from above, making the work more difficult. The rain started early that day and they were hurrying to finish. Then, in the blasting and digging, Nathan found the stone, shaped by someone in a civilization long gone. Nothing would ever be the same for him, or Phil and me.” She rested again. Hutch stood up, paced a few steps and turned.

“Millie, I need to know what is going on. I need to get back.”

Cutting him off, Millie said, “Kenneth, that night the storm in the painting came and They came in the storm. You see, the dam collapsed, the partners, my loves, trapped as the rocks began to slide. My husband’s leg was crushed. Despite the excruciating pain, he grabbed Nathan as he was slipping off the rocks into the abyss. Knowing help was on the way he held so tight, but the bone in his crushed leg was being ripped through the skin. He couldn’t take the pain, and let go. He clawed the air for Nathan and would have thrown himself after him if he could have. His leg kept him there, but make no mistake, his heart and soul went into that abyss with his partner.”

She stopped, her eyes fixed unseeingly ahead. Hutch couldn’t form words. He had been there with her, with them, and tears stung his eyes. Leaning back before he fell off the edge of the cushion, he took his fingernails out of his hand and looked at the marks they had made. “Millie, I…”

“This friend of yours, please don’t let him be that special. They won’t let you have him, and They will do whatever it takes to have him. Don’t let Them hurt you so.”

“Millie, I will do anything to save Starsky. I won’t let go.” No, Hutch would have his body pulled apart first, or cut off his leg, but he wouldn’t let go of Starsky.

“Then you will suffer, and perhaps still lose your friend,” Millie said with a sad smile.

“So be it, but my heart won’t be in an abyss.” Hutch ran his hand through his hair and asked, “Millie, the stone?”

“If the two halves of the stone could ever join, the abyss would be sealed forever. They could never come.”

“The, the halves?”

“Phil gave me his half. The Things don’t like mine. It is shaped so as to fill the hole of the other. Having it keeps them away, unless they come in the soul of one They have chosen.”

“Like my Starsky.”

“Yes, and They are too close to you.”

“And that’s why this is our last conversation and, why you wouldn’t allow Starsky to meet with you. How did he get the stone? Did Miriam’s husband find it? And that sketch of Starsky?” Hutch asked perplexed.

“Her husband was weak. Sometimes when this happens, as victims lose touch with their own essence, the Things will use the vision of the new chosen to help fill their minds. They led him to the stone as They led your friend. They greatly fear the stone being joined. Now your partner has one part and I have the other.” Millie put her hands in her lap and searched Hutch’s eyes again.

Blue eyes not wavering, Hutch evenly said, “And now, Millie, tell me what to do, for with or without you, I’m going to stay with my friend. I’ve seen Them. I’ve led him out from Them. If he loses, I’ll lose with him. Whatever, WHATEVER happens, I’ll hold on, and that hold won’t be broken.”

“Maybe you will be the link that won’t break. All right, Kenneth, I will give you the help I can.” With that Millie slowly rose and went to an old armoire. Hesitating a moment, she braced herself and opened a small door at the bottom and sliding out a drawer, unlocked the top with a key taken from her pocket. She slipped the stone into her hand, and returned to Hutch.

Standing in front of him, she held out the stone. Taking it in his right hand, and touching the middle of it, raised where Starsky’s version was indented, he felt the edges, knowing from the feel that Starsky’s stone would fit and tightly seal.

“I give you the only chance your friend has, but have put you in more danger. They will try to prevent the stone from being made whole. Yet, if anyone can join the pieces, I believe it will be you. The stones were never to have left that distant shore. Phil brought this one back, and I don’t know how the other came this far. There is a helper who watches over this part, and he will be there with you. You must remain pure of heart with undying love. The helper will do what he can, but They are very strong, and your friend is growing weak. Remember this, your friend would never have you sacrificed for him or anything else, and he does have a say in this.”

“Thank you, Millie, thank you for the chance.”

Millie stepped nearer and brushed her palm against his cheek. “You are a white knight, and I do see a faint glimmer of hope,” and with that she kissed his cheek.

“Millie, I…”

“Go now, They are getting restless and beginning to stir. But before you see to your friend, get the other part of the stone if you can. They will want him to keep it far away from the part I am giving you.”

Hutch kissed her smooth cheek and headed out the door.

The Needful basked in the burning, and the screams.

Fire in his veins, terror beyond his dreams,
They knew the way now to ultimately win,
Using shared love of the purest of friends.

The Hungry knew where the Friend had gone, and they yearned for the battle. Oh yes, how well They had chosen this time.

Starsky did rest, but he had fought hard and was now sick and fevered. The short-lived restless sleep was coming to an end.

Watching his friend get some real rest, Huggy relaxed, stepped out to the top of the stairs and called for Tippy to bring some beer. He hurried back into the room to check on Starsky and hearing his light snoring, stepped out again to take the beer from Tippy. In that short moment of eternity, They came and tortured.

Starsky was feeling pain and seeing bright light, but his eyes weren’t opened; he was trapped between the awake and asleep. They wouldn’t let him wake. In his mind they played and teased and whispered. “We know him now, and soon he will hurt and wish for death. His blood will be covering you. Fire will burn in his veins, his gut will feel like rot, every pulse will hurt unbearably and he will beg the very beating of his heart to cease. You will be the one who must take his misery from him. His blood then will be on your hands. You will end his life or you will watch him suffer as you have, but then so much more unless you come with us and give us what we want from you.

And their images twisted, and light and dark bolted through his body like electricity, he jumped and writhed in pain; and they played. Starsky was begging Let him go! I’ll go with you. Let him go and take what you want, just bring my soul back to him. And They were ready. They told him to go, get the stone; they would show him how to exchange his friend for himself. The Needful fed well on this one.

Huggy heard the moans as he walked through the doorway. Half dropping the beer to the floor, he hurried to the bed and was shocked at the change in his friend.

Starsky was in pain, and sweat was pouring from him. His moans were hardly human.

Letting the beer drop, Huggy ran to him. “Starsky, Starsky, wake up, man! Come, my friend.”

Starsky opened his eyes and looked through Huggy. They were wild, huge and a dark violet he had never seen. “Starsky, take it easy, come on.” Huggy was scared senseless for his close friend.

Through a hoarse voice, Starsky said, “Huggy, I need to borrow your car.”

“Hey, not today, friend. Anyway Hutch’ll be back soon.” And if Huggy ever wanted anything before, he wanted Hutch here now.

“I gotta go ‘fore he gets here. Please Huggy.”

Huggy breathed, Starsky’s eyes were returning to their normal color, even if he was still agitated.

“No, Starsky, I can’t do that.”

Starsky looked at him, pleading. His friend stood his ground.

Starsky sat on the bed, trying again, begging. “Please, Huggy. If I don’t go, something horrible will happen to Hutch. Please.”

“Hutch is okay, Starsky. He’ll be here real soon.”

“No,” Starsky screamed, grabbing Huggy’s arms. “Give me the damn keys!”

Huggy shook his head afraid. Starsky pushed him hard into the chair. Then, growling, he stomped to the table. With an angry sweep of his arm, cups and saucers flew crashing to the floor. Magazines, papers, anything that had the misfortune of being on that tabletop, scattered. Spinning around, he loomed over Huggy and snarled, “Give me the fucking keys.”

Huggy stared, shocked, but held out. Praying with everything in him that Hutch would walk in the door. With the sound of a crazed animal, Starsky grabbed him by the collar, his voice sounding like one possessed. “The keys.”

And the Needful whispered cold into his ear and into his being. Their glaring light inside his mind blinded him to the horror in Huggy’s eyes. Starsky saw shadows, light and dark. He heard, them chanting—Go to the stone, go, save him, stop the torture. Go to the stone—He heard the screams of hundreds of Them. And in Their echoes he knew, Hutch was to be the price for that stone, for They would never let the two halves be joined. Oh yes, these two mortals had given more delights than all of the generations of man before them, from the genesis of time, but the stone would remain broken.

They would be by the sea.

Starsky didn’t see his close friend’s dark, frightened eyes. His hands wrapped around his neck and tightened. He heard the gagging sound as Huggy slipped into unconsciousness. His mind registered, but confusion and Their voices were louder. Then he blinked and saw Huggy, and sickened by what he had done, he let go. Huggy crumpled to the ground, and They laughed. Starsky screamed, and ran out. He knew he couldn’t think, had to get the stone. Hutch couldn’t be hurt.

Now at his desk in the squad room, not knowing or caring how he’d gotten there, he threw open the drawer. Grabbing the stone he ran, not hearing the shocked voices, the concerned questions. He had to get to the sea. They would be waiting and he would throw the stone far out to them. Then maybe they would leave. If not, he would do what had to be done. Nothing else matter. He backed Huggy’s caddie out of the police garage, and nosed the car into traffic. “You’ll be fine Hutch, you’ll live. That’s what matters. Oh, Hutch.”

 

PART THREE

They come in my dreams,
And there They will stay,
Unless my soul’s own partner,
Can take Them away.

Hutch had been so wired for so many hours, his mind was in neutral for most of the drive to Metro. He concentrated on driving, because even with the siren and Mars light, the sidewalk was never considered part of the road.

All he wanted to do was put that damn stone together, grab Starsky and run, pretending that this was all a bad dream. Nearing headquarters, some of Millie’s words anxiously echoed through his mind.

Hurrying down the hallway, he hoped that somehow he could get past Dobey. Darting through the doors he moved everyone aside with a glare. Bolting to Starsky’s desk, he didn’t notice the gawking from all sets of eyes in the squad room. With one yank from his powerful arm he pulled the drawer out, flipped it upside-down emptying the contents on Starsky’s desk. “Damn.” The stone was not there. “Damn.” Then, Hutch looked up as a shadow towered over him, Dobey was blocking his exit. Hutch was trapped at Starsky’s desk.

“Captain, ah, Starsky needed his, ah…”

“He certainly needs something from all I’ve heard. Whatever was in there he’s already got. Course nothing’s in the drawer anymore is it?” Stuffed animals, papers, pens, candy wrappers, and notes as old as two years were scattered on top of Starsky’s desk.

“Well,” Hutch muttered, cleared his throat, and said, “I guess I’ll get back to work now.”

“On your days off? Commendable. Would you mind telling me what case that would be? And why your crazed partner came in mowing down anyone in his way. From what I heard, driving erratically even for him, and in some old caddy with the bumper hanging off.” Dobey bellowed. “With clothes half torn off and blood running down his leg!” Dobey was getting louder as Hutch tried to inch around him. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“Captain, we’ll have to talk about it later. Take my word, I gotta go.” Dobey moved, trusting Hutch, but worried out of his mind.

“Hutch,” he called as Hutch pushed open the door. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know, Cap’n. We know.”

“Go take care of that partner of yours, just be sure you take care of yourself, too.”

Hutch took time to throw him a salute as he flew out the door. Dread pushed him frantically down the hall.

Pulling the Torino from the parking garage, he raced toward Huggy’s, knowing Starsky wouldn’t be there. Praying he would. Not knowing what to do if he wasn’t. Where would the bastards that forced him to retrieve the stone send him? Those things that could move his exhausted, bruised body… how much control did they now have? Hutch felt nauseous. Slamming his fist against the steering wheel, he said, “Damn, Starsky, oh, damn.”

~~~~~~~~~~

What would I do to save him?
Hutch, what would I not do?
Forgive me babe, but you can’t face Them.
And there’s only one way to stop you.
Try to understand buddy,
There’s something you must know.
We’ll be together through eternity,
But for us now, I must go.

Starsky was so tired and his leg burned like hell, which was a pretty good description of what he was going through. Knowing what he had to do gave him a focus and for a while, They waited. He drove till he was at his apartment. As the old caddy labored up the hill, confusion again gripped him with the realization that he wasn’t driving his striped tomato. Then the perplexed pursing of his brow was smoothed and the clinched mouth relaxed as a smile played at the edges when he remembered the time Hutch first called it that. Through the smile came tears, knowing many memories were already gone. “Please, whatever happens, wherever I go, let me remember Hutch, please.”

Starsky knew the Hungry for what They were, and what They wanted. They would take all he was and loved. Then, They would give the shell that was left of him to Hutch to care for till their bodies died together. No, he wouldn’t put him through that. He wouldn’t ruin Hutch’s life at any cost.

No matter what happened this day, their friendship wouldn’t cease. The Needful had unwittingly shown him that. Hutch and he would be friends through eternity, close to each other forever. Knowing this as a certainty gave Starsky the strength to do what had to be done.

Climbing the steps gave focus—pain in his head, his leg, his whole body helped keep the terror at bay. At the doorway, he felt an overwhelming sadness. Going from object to beloved object— artwork, his boat Hutch had patiently helped him finish, pictures of his Mom, favorite records. Then lovingly lifting a picture of Hutch and clutching it to his heart, he cried. Hurting so badly his legs turned to Jell-O, he crumpled to the ground. Holding the picture against himself so hard the glass broke, making small cuts on his arms. He spoke to the empty apartment. “Hutch, this can’t be happening. When will I wake? I’ll just call you like I always do when dreams turn nasty.” Then, with a heartbroken cry of, “Oh, Hutch,” he climbed to his feet.

Turning toward the door, he noticed a picture of Huggy, Hutch, and himself taken at one of their losing softball games. Standing arm-in-arm in their dirty jerseys and hats, their smiles so beautiful. Then Starsky remembered Huggy. Seeing the begging, horrified eyes that he had been blinded to before, Starsky was ready to end the nightmare anyway he could. “Hutch, Huggy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was ever born.”

Running out the door and down the steps, he forgot the hurt in his leg and the exhaustion. Still clutching the picture of Hutch, he whirled the car around in the middle of the street and headed to a place where the things could have their stone and him, but never Hutch. Something kept tugging in the back of his mind. Something Hutch had told him, barely still a memory. Death isn’t a choice here, only life. “No pal, my death is the only objective here. Your life and my death.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Don’t you dare mess,
With this man’s partner,
For suckers beyond hell;
Now I’ve got your number.

Hutch knew Them well now, too, and he felt the warmth from the stone in his pocket. Millie had given up the protector. Realizing how much she had sacrificed, Hutch vowed to do all he could to close the portal. It could be done, but right now all that mattered to Hutch was Starsky. Huggy had been patched through and could barely whisper. Thank God he was okay; but it was a sure thing Starsky was thinking he’d killed Huggy. “Oh, God!”

Hutch had called Starsky’s apartment and Venice Place. He didn’t expect an answer. Flying up the 405 ramp, headed to Starsky’s apartment, Hutch was afraid to consider what he might be capable of in his tormented frame of mind. Tears of fear and frustration burned his eyes, and he didn’t know where to look.

Then, he felt an emotion stronger than his fear or frustration. Hutch felt anger, as he had never known it. Fury at himself for not being there, Starsky, for not waiting; fury at the Dream Things from beyond hell that was only equal to the love he shared with his partner. Rage for their testing the boundaries of human endurance on Starsky.

He fished the stone out of his shirt breast pocket, and sure enough it felt warm and comforting. Warmth flowed over him as fingers of calm touched his being. Starsky’s love for him and his for Starsky was stronger then the needful cold things. Warmth given by the stone gave more hope. Pulling off the road, trying to get the shaking under control, he took a deep breath and tried to feel Starsky.

Hutch felt Starsky so clearly—scared, confused, and all alone. He felt Starsky’s tears as his own ran unchecked down his cheek. Then Hutch ached; knowing Starsky’s desperate need to protect him and that he was capable of anything to save his partner. Hutch heard the surf pounding, and felt the spray from the breakers on the rocks, and knew where Starsky was.

With Mars light and siren, Hutch screeched the Torino into traffic. Skidding off the freeway onto the South ramp, he pointed the car toward the ocean. Please, please, wait, Starsky.  And with the helper, he felt Starsky’s blinding headache from being pulled in so many directions. The Needy wanted the stone thrown away and Starsky’s despair terrified Hutch. He knew that even with his unfathomable love for life and will to live, Starsky would not hesitate to die for his best friend. The despised suckers enjoyed playing with his mind and soul, and didn’t want their Chosen to die. However, they wanted that stone far away so it could never join with the comforting one in his pocket.

Millie had helped him to learn more about Them and the stone she gave showed him much. He had also peered into his partner’s soul and saw Them there. He saw what They wanted and what They would do to get it.

Hutch spoke to Them. “No damnit, not my partner, you’re going to let go of my partner.” And gripping the wheel tighter, he added, “Starsky, Starsk, don’t you dare leave me!”

Starsky, you hear me, don’t dare leave me.

~~~~~~~~~~

In swirling, dizzying nauseous places,
They’ll take you far beyond the sea
Where you’ll feel their freezing faces.
Unspeakable terror,
Unacceptable loss,
But not lasting forever,
That’s saved for our love.
Come back to me, Starsky.

Warmth bathed the car and caressed Hutch, and he knew Starsky heard him. The helper was with him too, like their love, crossing time and space, still just as strong as a touch from a loving hand. Don’t go, babe, without saying good-bye, ‘kay? Let me say goodbye and then I’ll let you do what you feel you need to do. This was the first real lie Hutch had ever told his friend.

Starsky heard him, and he wanted his Hutch. For that minute, with Hutch touching his heart and thoughts, Starsky desired only to look in those blue eyes the color of the sea and sky. Then he would be safe, close to Hutch. Unthinkingly, he put the stone back in his pocket. Climbing over the rocks jutting into the sea, slipping, his leg bleeding again, but not stopping or climbing more carefully, he moved toward a place of safety and peace. His only thought was Hutch’s haven, and he headed to Venice Place.

Hutch took off the light, turned off the siren and headed home.

~~~~~~~~~~

A place called home,
Is a place of the heart.
There, never really alone,
Never truly apart,
There you are welcome,
And let the outside cease,
In my small garden
Of rest and peace.

Starsky made his way home, to Hutch’s. Dragging his tired body up the steps. He let himself in with the key above the door without bothering to close it. That would be a waste of his energy and his energy was fading fast.

As Hutch was pulling onto Washington, Starsky made his way through the rooms he knew so well. Willing his body to go a little farther, he moved to the door leading to the little garden, Hutch’s refuge. The cold was gathering, and pushing around him as he went back into the damp air. It was hard for him to breathe, the frigid air hurting his lungs, and he was so cold.

The Needful came and brushed his skin with icy needles. Frantically looking for Their stone, the frost They left in Their wake killing many of the beloved plants, as the air was now an Arctic mass. Water began freezing in the tin watering can. Starsky quickly used up his reserve of energy fighting the chills, wrapped himself in Hutch’s love, slumped in a ball to the ground, and went to sleep… unaware of the cold searching through his clothes, wrapping around him, taking his warmth. Peace came as death neared, and They left him, not wanting this. This Chosen still had so much more to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~

If only I can see you, Hutch,
Then I’ll wait in eternity,
If I can have one more touch,
To hold on to me and thee.

Hutch squeezed into a parking space near his entrance and ran. He knew where he would find Starsky, sensing the green plants around him, and the peace. The small area of beauty, and the strange cold lulling his friend to the sleep of nothingness where the nightmares didn’t come and love wasn’t felt. Hutch felt the penetrating, deadly cold as he slammed the car door. Then, his heart stopped for a beat—he no longer felt Starsky and half of his soul was gone.

He hurried. They wouldn’t have Starsky, he would see to that. Starsky had a stronger will than They dreamed. No, They wouldn’t have him, but Hutch still knew Starsky would stop at nothing to protect him—including taking his own life. Hutch didn’t know how many times he could stop him even with the helper. Running up the stairs to the opened door, panic gripped him. Following in his friend’s steps, he saw the broken framed picture of himself where it had been tossed. Picking it up, he swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. Carefully setting it back, he moved silently to the back door.

Love can be,
The ultimate sacrifice.
This I give willingly,
But I don’t want to die.

~~~~~~~~~~

They came in my dreams,
I wished Them away,
They’ll come back again,
Then Hutch’ll have his say.
Dread like ice in my blood flowed,
Time stopped at that moment,
For only death could be so cold,
Starsky, curled so still in my garden.

Hutch hesitated at the doorway. Cold emanating from the balcony garden took his breath and iced his blood with dread.

“Oh, God,” he cried and in that second a lifetime passed. Clinching his eyes shut in agony and prayer, he tried to believe that the helper had not brought him to Starsky unless there was hope. Starsky had to be alive—he had to.

Brown light from an overhead bulb reached with short fingers into the dark. Hutch moved through the doorway and began his trek through the twisting trail of pots filled with growing foliage. Surreal shadows constantly changed from the bounty of leaves blowing in the light freezing wind. Hutch pushed his way past the deathly cold on that short twisting trail. Surely this all was just a dream. Then he saw him. Starsky was curled in the shelter of a potted palm, deathly still and silent, his back facing Hutch.

On his knees bending over the still figure, Hutch managed to whisper, “Starsk,” the freezing air turning his breath to smoke.

Hutch shuddered from the lingering cold and sickening apprehension. He touched his beloved friend’s arm. Starsky’s skin was as cold as death beneath the soft cotton shirtsleeve. Hutch jerked back his hand in horror… forgetting to breathe as time stood still in that frozen garden until Hutch’s lungs screamed for air. Gulping until he was able to shriek from the depths of his being, “No, no, Starsky!”

With fear he didn’t know he was capable of, Hutch forced his hand to cup the bristly chin and press his fingers to Starsky’s neck. Tears of joy flowed as he felt a pulse, faint but steady. Relief pushed his arms around his unfeeling partner’s shoulders, and Hutch waited for his own shudders to stop. Now there was no hesitation, only Hutchinson determination, and nothing could come up against that and win.

Putting his arm under Starsky’s shoulder, Hutch pulled him tightly into the warmth of his hug. “Starsky, wake up. You gotta get warm,” but there was no response.

Still clutching him, Hutch relaxed his hold enough to allow Starsky’s head to rest against the crook of his arm. With a calm in his voice he didn’t feel, he said, “Starsk, come on, wake up for me,” and Starsky’s eyes fluttered and then closed. Just can’t do it, huh? ‘S’kay. And thanking God and that helper Millie sent, Hutch put his other arm under an icy leg and picked up the limp body. He carried him through the little maze of a garden in the dissipating cold and through the apartment. Gently laying him on the bed, Hutch covered him with the spread and went into the bathroom to turn on the warm water in the shower. Steam was fogging the room making it toasty as Hutch went back to his partner.

~~~~~~~~~~

Love as tangible as skin and bone,
To lose it would be like losing the song.
Unique as the souls it lays bare.
Needed as one needs the air.
You’d give your life for me,
Wouldn’t you?
Oh yes, if you needed me to.
No greater love has man,
Then the love of a true friend.

Starsky rallied as Hutch began peeling off his clothes. Warming enough to shiver, he made a small sound as Hutch pulled the shirt off his shoulders. Dark blue eyes caught the ones of sky and the care and love felt was a tangible thing.

“Hutch,” Starsky said weakly. Confused and trembling, lips still blue, he sought Hutch’s eyes as a ship seeks and depends on the beacon over the waterway. “‘uutch, coold,” he tried to mutter more, but shuddering grunts were all he could manage.

Pulling off Starsky’s pants, Hutch was desperate to get him warm. He wanted to hold him close and make the nasties go away, but the quickest way to warm his friend would be to get him into the waiting hot shower. Grimacing as he slid his pants over bruises and the bloodied knee, Hutch said, “Hey, buddy, how bout a nice warm shower?” The tiny answering smile warmed Hutch’s heart as he pulled his friend to his feet and helped him to the steamy bathroom.

Hutch grabbed the discarded clothes thrown in a pile by the bed. Starsky had put the damn stone somewhere. Knowing his partner so well, a ghost of a smile brushed across Hutch’s mouth as he thought of places Starsky might hide a stone.

Staying nearby as the water warmed and strengthened Starsky, Hutch searched through his filthy clothes. It would be a pleasure to toss the jeans caked with blood. Again, Hutch stuck his head into the steam of the shower. Starsky was leaning on the palms of his hands pressed against the wall enjoying the heat from the warm spray on his body. Hutch breathed normally for the first time since leaving Metro. Starsky tilted his head toward Hutch enough for their eyes to briefly join. Thanks, partner, it’s okay now.

Moisture plastered Hutch’s hair against his forward, and glued his shirt to him as he smiled. Closing the curtain, he returned to his search through Starsky’s grimy clothes. There was no stone. Damn pulling the shower curtain back again, “Starsk, you okay?”

Starsky said plaintively, “Hutch.”

“Yeah buddy,” Hutch answered, water spraying his face. He saw a very bruised Starsky, gauze hanging off his leg, and blood being washed away from the cuts. He had circles under his eyes and stubble from many hours without a shave. Minor cuts and scratches were numerous from his head to his toes. Eyes closed from exhaustion, Hutch wondered how in the world he was still standing. His hair was full of suds. Did you forget to rinse the shampoo out, or too tired to manage it?

“Hutch….”

Leaning into the stream of water, Hutch said, “I’m here Starsk. Keep your eyes closed.” Hutch guided the soapy head under the water, and began rinsing.

“No problem,” Starsky drowsily replied. Hutch smiled and made sure he was rinsed all over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Starsk, enough is enough.
It’s time to kick ass,
You’re too tired to stay tough.
And I need to rest
Listen, I know how,
To send the vile Things on.
We can do it now.
Buddy, where’s the stone?

Hutch was as soaked as Starsky as he pulled him out of the shower. Holding him, he wrapped him into a huge towel then plopped him onto the closed toilet seat. He finished pulling off the hanging wet gauze. With a couple of small moans the nasty mess was discarded. Hutch reached for the antibiotic cream he had put on the sink as Starsky’s eyes pulled at his. Don’t want it to hurt Hutch. “It’s okay, Starsk. It’s just cream, see,” he said holding the bottle in front of him as he unscrewed the top. Starsky relaxed and held onto his hurt leg with both hands above the knee as Hutch gingerly applied the medicine.

Hutch’s big hands were so gentle and quick, a couple of moans and minutes later, the wound was clean and medicated Looking pointedly at his handiwork, avoiding the nervous cobalt eyes, Hutch asked, “Buddy, what’d you do with stone?”

Starsky hummed, “Hmm,” and closed his eyes. Hutch knew it was the only answer he’d get from him for a while.

Trying once again, Hutch asked, “Buddy, where’s the stone?”

“What stone?” Starsky said, exhaustion pushing the words.

Hutch knew they wouldn’t find the stone tonight, maybe never. He still knew the Garbage Ones were going to quit messing with his partner; he meant that. So, some warm soup in both their stomachs was needed now, then rest.

Starsky’s body was getting more lax by the minute now that he was warm. In fact, he looked flushed. Hutch felt his forehead and he did feel a little warm, probably from the bath, Hutch reasoned. Starsky leaned into Hutch’s arms. Pulling him up and walking him into the bedroom, Hutch said, “Come on, pal, rest while I get us something warm to eat.”

Hutch pulled back the covers and Starsky slipped between the clean sheets, pulling the top one to his nose and sniffing it, Starsky said contentedly, “HMM, smells good.”

Hutch tugged at the blanket till it joined with the sheet he’d worked up to his nose. “It’s the store brand. It is a good clean smell though.” And pushing the wet curls from Starsky’s face, Hutch said, “Rest, I’ll have some food in a minute.”

“S’kay, sound’ good,” Starsky sleepily replied.

Hutch set the soup can on the counter and put the pan on the stove. His wet, clinging clothes felt cold and uncomfortable, and he stripped off his shirt. On his way to check on Starsky he hopped on one foot pulling off his shoe. Leaning on the bed beside him, Hutch removed his other shoe. Standing there he scrutinized the sleeping man, he popped the buckle and undid his own pants He decided the odious Things or a 9.9 earthquake wouldn’t wake his friend, so he tugged at the pants stuck to his skin, skimming them off as he headed to a warm, but quick shower.

Stinging water pounded the bruises on his legs, arms, butt, and especially his hip. Remembering that moment he bolted over the bonnet of Starsky’s car, knocking him out of the road, made him weak and ill. Okay Hutchinson get over this fast, you gotta get a grip. It’s going to take all you’ve got to keep Starsky from Them. Turning off the water, he made himself relax. Hutch knew that the one Millie sent was guiding and Starsky was strong. He breathed deeply and evenly, and stepped out of the shower and into a towel.

Rummaging through his dirty clothes, he pulled out the cleanest pants he could find, and pulling on the grubby jeans, he smiled. Getting too much like you, Starsk. The soft clean flannel shirt felt warm and fuzzy, one of Starsky’s contributions to Hutch’s limited wardrobe.

Water dripped from his hair as he felt Starsky’s sleeping face. He was still warm, but sleeping peacefully. Hutch’s stomach’s growling moved him into the kitchen.

Hutch left the pan in the sink a short time later and grabbed the two steaming mugs. He started to the bedroom with them in hand, and noticed the dull light still on outside. Retracing his steps, he set the mugs of soup down. Burn his mouth anyway. Fishing the flashlight out of his junk drawer, which could be the label on most of them, he went out back to search. Okay, Helper, how ’bout some now? Oh, please, let that damn stone be here.

Hutch wasn’t sure how long he looked. For the first time he wished the garden wasn’t so lush. No stone on the ground or in the plants. He even poked a stick through his neighbor’s cat’s litter box.

The fruitless search took long enough for the soup to form a cold skin slicing the top. Hutch retrieved the pan, dumped the contents from the mugs into it and tried to make it again tasty enough to get some of it down his partner.

“Starsky,” Hutch said softly, setting the mug of soup on the night table. After taking another sip of his own, and pulling the cover off, baring Starsky’s chest and resting his hand there, he called louder, “Starsky,” He rubbed his fingers against the fevered skin creating a tickling sensation that finally caused some reaction.

Starsky swatted at him as he would a mosquito, or irritating partner, then rubbed his eyes. Hutch sat on the edge of the head of the bed. “Hey, I’ve been slaving over a hot stove here for you, how ’bout a taste?”

With the corners of his mouth turned up, the beginning of a sweet grin, Starsky rubbed his eyes and peered out from heavy eyelids. Hutch smiled, took the mug and moved up on the bed till they were shoulder to shoulder.

“Starsk, got some warm soup for you. It’s tomato.”

Starsky muttered, ‘Hm cold…still cold,” and his lower lip trembled. As he became more alert, his eyes darted around the room nervously, finally catching Hutch’s.

Hutch set his mug on the table and lifting Starsky’s shoulders, scooted between him and the headboard. He leaned Starsky back against his shoulder. Reaching, he retrieved a mug of soup and put it in Starsky’s hand, wrapping his fingers around it. “Careful, it’s still pretty warm.” He squeezed Starsky’s other hand and brought it to the mug, “Hey, pal, this is a two handed operation.” Hutch tried to ease his own hand away, but Starsky’s were too loose, and Hutch sighed, glad to hold onto his hand until Starsky found the strength. This was something Hutch prayed he would be always be able to do for this friend he loved so.

“Feels good,” Starsky murmured. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Starsky’s body began feeling a little like a warm wet noodle in Hutch’s arms. Hutch took the mug from his hand and replaced it with a glass of water from the table. Scraping up two aspirin off the table, he poked them into Starsky’s mouth. “Drink,” Hutch commanded. Finishing most of the water, Starsky rolled his head off Hutch’s arm and buried in the pillow. “Sleep, Starsk, we’ll go hunting for that stone later.”

Drowsily Starsky asked, “What stone?” Then he shivered. “I’m cold, Hutch.” Hutch put the glass on the floor and shifted enough to wrap an arm around his partner, and lying beside him, held him—sharing his warmth and strength.

Sometime later, Hutch sighed, climbed over his friend and rested on top of the covers. Starsky grunted and turned his warmed body away from him. Hutch, not able to keep his eyes opened, reached out to the lump under the covers beside him, “Starsky, please, just sleep awhile.”

Starsky, already beyond responding, moved closer to the warm comfort there, and the partners slept.

~~~~~~~~~~

They come in vile swarms,
I keep brushing off,
Hot stinging worms,
Hutch, please make Them stop.

They came and Starsky tried to brush them away, but they were like flies around his head and hot worms again crawling on and under his skin. His fever made him hurt too much to open his eyes. Restless and stirring enough to wake Hutch, who watched him with tired eyes, unable to see Starsky’s hand kneading the sheet or the silent tears wetting his pillow. Hutch was exhausted and his bruised body demanded a time to heal. So he patted the shoulder under his hand and went back to a sleep.

Hutch help me, I’m losing,
They’re making me dream,
Though I open my mouth,
They won’t let me scream.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing unspeakable terror,
They showed him Hutch’s horror.
And now fevered and confused,
“Please Hutch, what can I do?”
Even in his restless sleep,
Starsky begged for release,
Death now sounding so sweet.
Only there could he find peace.

The stone lay colder than ice, colder than the outermost part of space. Safely tucked away, wrapped in the young growing vines that were taking hold of the banister in the little garden, soon they would grow profusely along the spiral staircase with the little stone trapped tightly in them. There it would be out of sight, falling over the ledge and, as with the vine, soon out of reach.

Starsky ached with fever, the touch of the soft sheet causing him to flinch with every movement. He slept a restless sleep, but for a while they left him alone. His fever continued to climb, but he didn’t stir, and Hutch slept without dreams.

Needful things gathered and planned. Never had they experienced such joy as with this one. They wanted the stone, but for now the helper had found a place out of their collective minds reach to hide it. Yet, Suckers of Souls knew where the stone’s mate was. Oh, yes, this was a powerful enemy. The one that loved the soul of their Chosen more than life or the glories of the universe carried the other half of the whole that could close the portal to these living mortals forever. Existence wouldn’t be worth the effort without feasting on mortal souls. Ecstasies of pleasure and pain and laughter and tears were known only from souls of life. And in all the Needfuls searching and travels throughout the universe and this dimension called time, never had They encountered two such as these. Hateful Things yearned and drooled for the battle with this one that could save both the Chosen and the entire universe from the Needful. Oh, yes, these souls were sweet tasting, but that battle could never be. This blond beauty must be taken from this life; he had the stone’s made and that made him far too dangerous.

Timeless Hungry Things now knew his name and for the first time since the existence of man, They moved atoms and formed a word. Whispering cold in the small warm space between friends’ shoulders, the partners heard the sound in their dreams, Hutch, Hutch. Hutch groaned and turned away from Starsky. Starsky wept; neither man woke.

They came as tiny creatures crawling on his skin and he tried to brush them away. Soon they swarmed and began stinging. Oozing into his ears, eyes, and every part of his stiffening body, the Scum of the universe bit him with disembodied images of mouths from memories taken from many mortal men. Burning into him, They turned into swimming things, aching cold blue flames. In his sleep, he cried for release, even death sounded sweet.

If only Hutch had not been so tired, maybe he would have heard the sharp intake of air and the jerk of his friend lying close beside him, but he slept on, disturbed only enough to turn over—and horror filled their lives.

~~~~~~~~~~

They hurt him so,
Hideous things
Aching cold,
Burning flames.

Blinding white light filled Starsky’s mind. They were playing there, using taken memories they had twisted, and the unreal they had promised. Through images changing faster than clouds in a storm, Starsky saw Hutch, his eyes pleading in agony. Mouth opened in pain, Hutch’s screams drowned by the sound heard where time doesn’t exist. The sound of nothingness, the loud ringing in Starsky’s ears that resounded through his head. Blaring, sharp, buzzing like those swarms of biting things and wailing like Hutch’s pain.

Then the wailing stopped and the ringing became indistinct. Hutch could no longer scream. His mouth closed as his body bled, his skin became raw, and the torture in his eyes went far beyond words. White flames then engulfed him. Starsky tried to close his eyes, but this horror was inside him, in his mind and soul. Through the glaring blues and blaring white was the vision of Hutch, his skin now blackened, but eyes still pleading through their torture. Starsky knew then what eternal damnation would be like, and be pleaded to wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

His eyes,
Blue and true as the heaven.
At times,
As cold and hard as steel.
His gaze,
For me softly comforts,
My anchor,
To all that is real.

Starsky knew what he must do and they let him rest, knowing the strength that he would need. Wrapping him in their vile cold breath, his fever was pushed deep inside. Hutch woke from his exhausted sleep and looked at his partner. Leaning on one tired elbow he scrutinized Starsky. Although his precious face was far from peaceful, his friend slept. Touching Starsky’s cheek, Hutch was relieved at the coolness he felt. Starsky leaned into his hand. Finally pulling the covers over his shoulders and combing his fingers through the dark curls, Hutch felt at ease enough to once again close his eyes, soon asleep again. This time, the Sickening Ones whispered coldness only to Starsky. Hutch, Hutch.

Whimpering softly, Starsky watched the illusions of Hutch’s torture grow dimmer. Blue images began to swirl and the light became brighter, and They whispered in his thoughts.   

We will have his mind, but he is strong and it will take unspeakable pain. He will hurt and know agony… tortured beyond comprehension. We can’t touch his soul… but his mind we’ll have… and he’ll know torture.   

They became louder in the sweet soul of the Chosen, and they screamed in his head.

Agony, such that no heart can withstand… we’ll have his mind… and finally his body will show him mercy and die. And you, who are part of his soul, whom he loves unconditionally, you are who he will go through this torture for, and you alone can stop this… only you. End this for him. Show your love… you can make it painless… and eternity can be yours together.   

They whispered,
But he already knew,
Eternity with Hutch,
Was wonderfully true.
Did he love him enough,
Could he be that strong,
To pick up the gun,
And make heaven their home?

Hutch slept, and Starsky carefully slipped out of bed. Barefoot steps made no sound as he made his way to Hutch’s gun. Shaking from the fever, now burning brightly again, he removed the gun from the holster, freezing as the click of the snap was heard loudly through the silence. Standing there in the light from the window, he looked out at the garden. Squinting his face, he tried hard to remember something. It had to do with the garden and something Hutch wanted to know. The helper tried to whisper to him about the stone; but he had suffered too much shock to hear. He was exhausted and sick.

Resting the gun in the palms of both hands, he looked at it, confused. His head hurt and his mouth was dry. The gun seemed heavy, and he held it against his chest, feeling the cold metal on his bare skin. Whimpering again, he moved to the garden door, and felt the coolness of the night air, heard the distant roar as a plane lifted over the ocean. Life. Hutch had said, “Always choose life, Starsky, always.”

Hutch, Hutch I just want to hear you, please, Hutch.

His eyes brimming with tears, he moved back toward Hutch, the only person who could make sense out of their world. Me and thee, Hutch Starsky needed Hutch’s touch and to see his eyes, look into blue the color of beautiful things—the sea on a sunny day, and the sky. Hutch, I’m scared and I feel so sick, please wake up. I don’t know what to do.  He stood looking at his best friend, the other half of his soul. Wanting only to touch and wake him, Starsky began lowering the gun to the floor. Knowing his Hutch would take care of everything, all he wanted to do was reach out to him.

Starsky was not allowed to lay down the gun. He tried to scream as the apartment began to spin, and cold slithered up his naked legs and thighs pulling him into an icy tunnel. Reality slipped away as icy wind gently blew the hair on his body, making him aware of the gun again. Moving with a breeze as cold as the grave, he again lifted the Magnum and looking at this man he cared for beyond comprehension, he knew clearly how to save him.

NO! Screamed through his head, but Those with so much of his memory screamed Hutch’s name into his mind and blinded him with the blue of Hutch’s eyes, pleading in agony… and Starsky lifted the gun… aimed it at the blond head… but he couldn’t pull the trigger.

Ancients marveled at the strength of love it took to break out of the tunnel. Starsky ran through the apartment and rushed to the door, gripping the gun. He grabbed the doorknob and fought with the lock, winning, swung the door opened and fled down the steps.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch your eyes,
The color of beautiful things,
The sea on a sunny day,
And the sky.
I’m scared Hutch,
And feel so sick
I need your touch
I’ll be safe in it.

When his hand found an empty space instead of the warmth of his partner, Hutch tried to come back from the peace he felt. His body and mind needed rest, and didn’t want to let go of sleep. Trying harder as he felt his friend staring and willing him to wake, he called to him with his mind, but was not yet conscious enough to mouth the words. The helper magnified the barely audible creaking of the door in his hearing jolted him fully awake, scared senseless. Damnit Starsky!

The stone felt warm in his pocket as he pulled on his shoes and ran out the door with shoelaces flapping, yelling, “Oh, shit, Starsky, no!”

Taking the steps three at a time and bouncing against the wall, Hutch hit the street as Starsky was rounding the corner headed to the beach. He was easy to spot with the bright moonlight bouncing off his nude body, scaring Hutch more. Starsky, what is in your head? What would make you bolt in middle of the night without even pants?

They ran the long three blocks to the beach full speed. Hutch was closing the distance till he stumbled onto the sand. Then, Starsky stopped a few feet short of the water’s edge. Hutch, close now, stopped also, startled at the eerie sight of the man naked in the moonlight with the surf pounding in front of him and the reflection of the moon reaching endlessly into the black expanse of the sea. He had a disturbing ethereal beauty. Pure, childlike, what the Hungry vile things yearned for.

Hutch whispered, “Oh, my God,” and slowly moved toward him.

Starsky sensed him and turned, gun in his hand, finger on the trigger. The wind wildly blowing his curls and sand whipping into their eyes, Starsky looked at him, disoriented and afraid.

Breathe, Hutchinson, you got to breathe. The wind whipped Hutch’s hair into his eyes and sand stung his face and arms. Amazed that Starsky didn’t flinch as the sand pricked his skin, Hutch realized this was probably insignificant discomfort compared to what this man, his best friend, had suffered that night.

“Starsky,” Hutch yelled over the surf. Starsky took a few steps toward him, trying to hear; or maybe he was moving toward love and safety. “Hey, aren’t ya cold, Starsk?”

Starsky tilted his head to one side like a puppy, trying to hear and understand the words.

Hutch swallowed, and tried to breathe evenly. “I know you’re hurting. Put the gun down and I promise it’ll be okay. Starsky, I promise. I’ve never lied to you.” Well, only once.

Hutch watched Starsky as he circled him. The moon gave light enough to see his eyes; so cobalt blue they were nearly black. Who was this person? There was little of his partner in the man before him. Even the movements were foreign.

Starsky saw his best friend and wanted to throw the gun down and run to him, the only one with whom he shared his fears. The person he would protect at all costs—costs far greater than just his own mere life. But the visions of Hutch in agony superimposed the hair glowing in the moonlight, the bright eyes full of love and fear, and the outreached arms. Starsky saw through blues and swirls, his world still spinning, and he still circled his partner as tears washed the sand from his eyes; and he remembered only the unspeakable horror that awaited Hutch if he didn’t pull that trigger.

Hutch saw his eyes and understood, but had no time to react as Starsky stepped backward, lifted the gun and aimed, both partners yelling, “NO!” together.

Starsky’s mind and soul wouldn’t let him kill Hutch, he couldn’t. At that second he knew his own death would save his partner, and he began pulling the gun up to his own head, but Hutch’s gun was heavy, and Starsky was tired. The gun fired prematurely, shocking Starsky, and the kick from it knocked him backward. Hutch felt the wind from the bullet whizzing past, closer than an inch to his head.

Hutch moved as the gun went off, tackling Starsky before he hit the sand. Grabbing his hands and the gun, Starsky’s finger still on the trigger, Hutch forced his hands over their heads stretching all four of their arms across the sand. Struggling as the gun went off again and again, each time Starsky yelped with pain as the force cracked at the bones in his wrist and fingers, but he wouldn’t let go. Hutch’s weight as he wrestled for the gun crushed the breath out of Starsky, but he couldn’t let go. Finally prying his finger off the trigger, Hutch wrenched the gun out of his hand, not worrying about fingers that might be broken.

Tossing the gun far away from them, Hutch rolled to the side with his hands still grasping Starsky’s arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes, side by side, both in shock, till Hutch relaxed. Then Starsky sat up screeching and began scrambling toward the gun. Hutch pulled at him knocking him back and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

Starsky struggled and screamed, “Let go, let go, let go! You don’t understand, Hutch. You don’t know!”

“Starsky, Starsky, listen.”

Not screaming now, but crying hysterically, “You don’t understand, you don’t understand!” He leaned into Hutch’s embrace. Hutch rocked him and gently rubbed his neck and the back of his head, competing with sand finding its way through thick curls. Finally pulling slightly away, they both sat, Hutch, less than a hand reach away. Starsky brought his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and curled into himself.

Hutch met his limit; Starsky’s hurting had gone beyond Hutch’s endurance level. The fury at the shithead Ancients came to him with inhuman force. Growling, he reached around Starsky, and grabbed his shoulders, “Starsky, stop! Listen to me.” Starsky started a mournful wail. “Starsky, I need you to help me make Them go away… Starsky, please!”

“It’s too late, it’s too late, Hutch,” Starsky moaned and looked at Hutch with wide Starsky tried bolting. Hutch, anticipating the move, held his upper arm as he struggled to get away.

“It’s okay, Starsky. It’s okay, babe, we’re going to be fine. Easy, buddy, easy,” Hutch soothed.

Starsky looked at him with utter hopelessness. Then, trembling touched Hutch’s face.

Hutch said softly, “They want the stones, Starsky.” Starsky looked at him shaking his head no.

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled.

“No stone, Hutch,” he said, his voice echoing his confusion.

Their eyes connected in the moonlight, the partners, the two halves of the whole. The helper had whispered into Hutch’s ear, it was time. Forget the stone, hold on to each other’s soul, Starsky’s time was running out.

~~~~~~~~~~

The partners,
Two making a whole,
Hold on to each other,
Protecting their souls.
Blood and tears,
Share them with me,
I’m in your soul here;
We’ll make you free.

Starsky was becoming limp, his eyes never leaving Hutch’s. Hutch grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. The blood from his knee smeared on Hutch’s sleeve and seeing the dark smear, Hutch felt cold fury, as cold as these translucent creatures. Jerking Starsky forward and giving him strength, Hutch said through gritted teeth, “Starsky.”

Starsky looked at him with unfocused eyes. He was too sick and shocked to stand on his own. His empty look laced fear through Hutch.

Hutch shook him, and yelled loud enough to be heard over the roaring surf or a 747 attempting a landing in his backyard. “STARSKY”

“Hutch?” Starsky said.

With a hint of a smile, relief filling his voice, Hutch said, “Starsky, we can do this. Stay with me.”

Starsky found himself in those eyes that were the color of heaven even in the moonlight, and was anchored. Then They came.

~~~~~~~~~~

Screaming things,
Scream in your mind.
Burn in your veins.
Put your hand in mine,
Our trusts is for eternity,
Just hold my hand Starsky.

They screamed in Starsky’s head and burning needles flowed in his veins and all the horrors of his life ran through his mind like an old movie, the light starting to blind him with the blues swimming there.

“Hutch, Hutch, I can’t see you,” Starsky cried.

Lacing his fingers with Starsky’s, and holding tight, “I’m here, buddy. Hold my hands, Starsk, hold tight. They’re not pulling us apart, and they can’t take any of you if you’ll just hold on to me. Babe these things are going to let you go.”

“‘Kay, Hutch,” Starsky said with absolute childlike trust, tightly entwining his fingers with Hutch’s, letting him take his weight and hold him there. So much like the first time he held him when They came. Starsky knew he needed all his Hutch’s strength and he thought of their love, solid, forged together through trust.

“You damn suckers, you think I’m giving him to you? For things that’ve been around so long, you’re pretty stupid,” Hutch’s tone startled even things in nightmares.

They had never experienced anything so delicious. Knowing if they couldn’t break the bond of these two, they would have to leave for now, They gorged as never before. They were not worried, even if They were forced away, for the stone wasn’t here. They could come back. And for now, They would use the forces of time to break the bond of these, with the one soul. Yet the Hateful would think of this feast when they gathered and feel for a space. Then They would come back to these. Oh yes, They would come back. But for now, the joy of the battle was exquisite.

“I know you, you! You’re the scum of the universe, the pick of eternity’s nose. I’m not letting go of him; you’ve seen his soul. It’s beautiful and it’s his and he lets me share it. You nasty things, take your stink away.”

They threw blinding light in his head, and they hurt the partners together. Searing pain, electrical jolts, skin peeling back, and bone eaten away by disconnected mouths; but they held onto each other.

They sent depression and depravation, and tearing of flesh, and noise that made them both scream. Still they held on.

They were confused and sickened, minds filled with searing hot lights, and faceless eyes. Partners’ hands never slipped.

Hurtful things were heard and betrayal between the partners, mean vicious things done that only the Hateful could imagine, but the hold and love never wavered. Starsky was getting too tired to hold, Hutch could feel him beginning to slip.

“Damnit you’re not getting him. I won’t give him up, and I fucking well won’t let you have him. You can’t take me, cause I just don’t come up to your standards. I have hang ups I still try hiding from him. My heart doesn’t play like his, and I’m sure as hell not naïve. My soul’s not all that simple, you found his isn’t either, didn’t you, suckers of worms and beetles?”

Hutch had their attention as none ever had in all the history of the world. Starsky leaned on Hutch to rest. Yep, his Hutch would take of it.

Then Hutch stopped yelling and said with an even, deathly voice that rivaled demons, “The best you could take from me is my love and loyalty to your Chosen. I’ll tell you again, assholes of all space, cause you might have missed it the first time, I’ll never give that love up. So, my pitiful ones, you can huff and puff yourself right back through hell to that place of never-never land.”

Hutch didn’t blink at the horror eyes, or terror mouth they projected. He glared into the eyes of nightmares and held onto Starsky, body and soul.

They hurt Starsky, burning his bones and tissues, tearing his flesh as he felt the bullet pass into his back, crying for his dad, and holding Hutch when he was in such agony. All the memories they had stolen were returned and he was in shock, overwhelmed.

Hutch held Starsky and went into his soul, and stood with him there. I’m here. Starsk, I feel all you do, I’m bringing you out, and this time they won’t be able to play with your mind again. Come on, Starsk, follow me this last time. And Starsky grasped Hutch and They burned their hands, and tore at their lungs. Me and thee, Starsky, wherever you’re going, I’m with you. Starsky held the hands clutching his and Hutch glared at Them, and They gloried in the battle lost.

His hands opened, and Hutch caught him as he slipped toward the sand, pulling him into his arms. The wind raged and blue lightning lit the sky. Sand whipped around them and blues swirled, and they stayed in each other’s arms. With a roar louder than the sea, and one strong whip of wind knocking them into the sand, the Hungry ones were gone.

On the ground, Hutch still embraced his friend while they cried. As the tears slowed, Hutch lightly brushed a kiss across the top of Starsky’s head. “It’s over, babe, we won this battle,” feeling of his face, he looked appalled, “Starsk, you’re burning up.”

“I’m okay now,” Starsky said smiling. “We make a damn good team, don’t we?”

“You better believe it, buddy.”

Hutch helped him up and glanced at his leg, still raw and clothed in sand. “Let’s get you home, got aspirin with your name written all over it.”

“I’m not arguing,” and with a look of unbelief, Starsky looked up and down his nude body and said, “Shit, Hutch, I’m naked.”

“Gee, Starsk, I never would have noticed,” Hutch said, and he laughed at the slight look of horror on his partner’s face. “But come on, it’s hard to tell with all the sand plastered on you.”

“Thanks, pal. I’m glad the sand didn’t coat everything,” Starsky said with a grin.

Taking off his own shirt, Hutch looked him over and chuckled, saying, “Pretty damn close,” then tied the shirt around Starsky’s waist.

Retrieving his gun from the sand, Hutch sighed and said, “Starsky, maybe I need to get the car, you don’t looked so hot, well actually you look like you’ve got a high fever.”

“It’s only a few blocks.” Starsky snorted and looked up and down the beach nervously. Hutch knew they would both be uneasy for some time. Looked like he had a roommate for a while.

“I’m okay,” Starsky assured him again.

“Well, buddy, you’re barefoot, too, in case you didn’t notice. I just don’t wanna have ta carry ya.”

And as they started back up the beach to walk the few blocks home, Starsky said, “But ya will if I need you to.”

Hutch wrapped his arm around Starsky’s and smiled, “You got that right, babe.”

“Love ya.”

“Love ya too, buddy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Clad in cutoffs, Starsky stepped in the path of Hutch heading to the bedroom with an armful of clean clothes. “What now?” Hutch asked with a touch of impatience. He was hungry and wanted to finish the laundry. Before Starsky had a chance for a sound to come out of his opened mouth Hutch answered him, “Yes, Starsk, I washed that red shirt. Look, I’ll be done here in a bit, watch TV or something, ‘kay?”

Starsky snorted and grabbed a clean shirt of Hutch’s from the top of the pile.

Hutch smiled as he watched Starsky limp to the couch and throw his bare feet gingerly on the coffee table. He knew his partner couldn’t help with the chores. The man looked like he’d spent the day being thrown off the side of a mountain. He was covered with cuts, scratches, and unidentified marks and bruises that were turning from black to many different shades and colors. Hutch tried not to imagine how sore he partner must be. Probably still should let the doc see that knee. Hutch sighed; he hurt himself with nearly every move. This hurt feels good, though. We’re alive and gonna be just fine.

“I know, who’d have ever thought being hurt would feel okay?” Starsky replied to the unspoken thought, “and really my knee’s okay.”

Hutch noisily opened drawers and put away clean shirts, boxers, and socks, filling the drawer designated to Starsky. Not that it mattered where he put the shirts; Starsky would wear what and whose he wanted. Which, Hutch thought, was okay, too. Man, I’d like some coffee.

“That’d be great,” Starsky said trying to roll the sleeves of the T-shirt over his shoulders. That was hard to do with swollen fingers, but Starsky was nothing if not tenacious, or damned stubborn according to his partner. “Hutch, would you throw me another donut, too?”

Hutch muttered from the kitchen, “No I won’t. Hug’s on his way.” He smiled as put the water on the stove. Life is good.

“Sure is, ain’t it?” Starsky answered from the living room, unaware that Hutch had not given voice to this thought.

“Coffee’ll be ready in a minute,” Hutch said as he pulled coffee mugs from the cabinet. He moved a couple looking for one with a big handle that would accommodate Starsky’s enlarged fingers.

“Mmm hmm,” Starsky said reaching for the guitar on the other end of the couch. “That’ll be nice.”

Hutch, finding just the right mugs, set them by the stove and scooped up the last of the laundry to be put away.

When I can’t seem to go on,
You’re right there with me.
Somehow you’ve always known,
Just where you need to be.

Hutch put the towels in the linen closet and fought with the closet door, damn thing never would close. Angrily banging his hip against the door, the catch clicked into place and the door stayed shut, probably afraid not to.

Smiling, Hutch sensed Starsky on the guitar trying to figure out the chords of some silly song he’d heard. Tears of thankfulness filled his eyes as he thought of his friend being whole again. Having put the wash away, he turned to join his partner in his rendition of “Time In a Bottle.” Hutch brushed the closet door and smiled at the creaking noise as it again slid open. If that damn door liked being open that much then, so be it. He figured even a door should be allowed to live in the realm of its own nature. Damn I gotta get a grip here.

Remembering the walk home from the beach in the middle of the night gave Hutch comfort. He had been exhausted and expecting to be forced to carry his sagging partner at any second, had still felt unbridled joy. He had even broken into a quiet song at one point. Nothing like fighting Nasties from beyond hell, and winning, to put him in good spirits. Starsky had just leaned on him more heavily and smiled.

Later, he’d put Starsky to bed after another warm bath and eased his own tender body onto the couch. That hadn’t lasted too long. When Starsky’s yelps came from the bedroom, Hutch was more than ready to find security beside his shaking friend. With those soft curls against his arm, sleep came easily for them both. Side by side they had slept away the morning in peace.

Now Hutch felt pleasure in doing something as normal and everyday as washing dirty clothes. Extra effort would be needed while this hyper part of his soul was a roommate. Someday they could again both sleep in an apartment alone.

Then a wave of emotion flowed over Hutch so unexpectedly and powerfully he staggered. Crushing the small bundle of clean clothes he found himself confronting the what ifs and the nearlys. His ribs were still sore from the impact of Starsky’s body as he snatched him from the path of that car on Pacific Coast Highway. Again he felt the deathly cold and saw Starsky, pale and still, nearly frozen in the little garden. Hutch saw the Needful’s eyes made from distorted human memories looking through him. What if? Oh, God, that loaded gun … the shots ringing out … nearly…

Hutch hadn’t heard Starsky softly come into the room, but when his legs turned to mush and just wouldn’t hold his weight, Starsky was there. With a mere whisper, “Hutch.” Clean clothes fell to the floor and Hutch had strong, bruised arms wrapped tightly around him. Few words were needed and those were shared silently as were the tears. Together they began healing.

Life is full of miracles,
We’re blessed with our share,
On my cheek those soft curls,
My greatest is right here.
Feelings and thoughts so close,
Our souls make one pair.
Holding when you need me,
Our lives we’ll always share.

“Hey, thought you two were hungry. Anyone home, or with all this food should I say any army home?” Huggy croaked from the front door.

Lifelines were to get you to shore and this time they had kept their heads above water. Arms sliding slowly, towels retrieved where they had cascaded, and Starsky’s gentle voice, “Babe, you okay?”

Hutch looked into his partner’s concerned eyes, “Yeah, you still starving?”

“Are chickens still flying?”

“Wha, what?” Running his hand through his hair, Hutch wondered, as he did on a daily basis, Does he do that on purpose?

Starsky grinned. “Well, chickens do fly ya know.”

“Only to roost Starsky. You want to eat, not sleep.”

Starsky snorted. “Hutch, my Golden Boy of Knowledge. And I cannot read your mind.” I sure hope ya don’t mind me roosting here, my pal.

“Yeah, right.” Hutch smirked. “Can’t read yours either, maybe because of its small contents.” Then he looked levelly at his partner, smiled broadly and said, “Yes I’m very glad you’re roosting here.”

Fondly squeezing his friend’s shoulder Hutch carefully lifted and examined his hand. They looked at each other as Hutch held Starsky’s bruised hand, careful not to touch the swollen fingers, and more was said without a word spoken then many brothers speak in a lifetime. Then Hutch’s lips curled into a sweet smile, “I know, buddy, sometimes we sure don’t want anyone reading our minds.”

“No, but, yes, maybe, and shit,” Starsky said with a grin.

“No, Starsk?”

“No, Hutch, I am not going to argue over the mind thing. Yes, I hope he brought more beer. Maybe I’ll drink that stupid stuff you fixed for me—you sure can be gross sometimes.”

Hutch opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. Why bother?

Starsky led the way to the kitchen, Hutch’s aim was pretty good, and most of the clean towels made it on the bed, the others on the floor close by. So what? He draped over Starsky’s shoulder, and knew their world was stable again. Well, as much it could be.

Huggy had a feast ready at the table, salads, hamburgers, fries, beans, cheese, and a fruit platter. Carefully negotiating around the salads, Starsky grabbed a hamburger and some grapes, as Hutch dug into the green stuff, filling a plate to overflowing.

Hutch, spitting through a mouthful of green, mumbled happily, “Huggy this is beautiful,” taking the next bite with near rapturous eyes, “Oh, uugy, man, outdid yourself,” he added, mouth full with crunching.

Starsky was a little more polite; he did repeat clearly ‘beautiful’ before the rest of the compliment was in spurting food grunts.

“What it is here? You two don’t eat less the Bear serves? I tell ya, fasting just don’t become Bay City’s finest.”

Starsky, half through with his burger, gulped down the beer the Bear handed him and grabbed some grapes. Those were good, so he got a handful and began pitching them up and catching them with his mouth … most of the time. Deciding they were good enough to share, he pitched two into Hutch’s mouth when his partner finally removed his nose from the salad plate. Somehow he caught one of the grapes and didn’t choke. Huggy deducted they’d practiced this game before.

Hutch was not one to turn down a challenge and shot into Starsky’s amazingly momentarily empty mouth. Somehow he made a basket and tried for another. As that shot made its goal he gleefully announced, “Damn, I’m good.”

The grape basket game went on long enough to spread grapes from the table to the couch. Friends were soon satisfied and sat in comfortable silence in the living room. Starsky again lounged on the sofa, feet propped on the table and guitar in hand strumming the strings gingerly with his sore, swollen, purple fingers. Huggy parked on the other half of the coffee table and grimaced at the bandaged leg and silently gasped at the fingers. Hutch had told him about wrenching the loaded gun from Starsky’s hand. Shuddering, he took the coffee offered by Hutch, their eyes connecting with a moment of understanding.

Huggy said, “You know, my friends, Millie says you two are one of a kind, unique, marvelous, hell I can’t begin to think of all the fine stuff she said.” And with a little awe in his voice, he added, “She might have something there.” The partners grinned and looked at each other.

“I don’t have any more, Starsky,” Hutch replied to the unasked question. Their eyes locked, blue sparks flew.

“You don’t have to be so testy, it’s just…”

“Starsky, I don’t have any…”

“You do, too,” Starsky argued.

“If I had them I would give them to you.” Hutch was getting irritated.

Huggy was watching this banter like a Ping-Pong game—his head bobbing from one partner to the other.

Starsky got louder. “I know I’m a grown man, and I happen to like cookies… I did not, just leave me alone.”

“And then what? Starsk, you… hey, calm down. Don’t you use that tone with me, partner!”

Huggy, who was often left hazy with these two, now sat, chin dropped. This partner mind thing was far beyond him. “Whoa, here, what is going on?” Huggy managed to ask.

They both turned with wide eyes at Huggy’s incredulous expression. Then it hit them; they had been doing this all day. There was no other word for it; they were reading each other’s minds. No way would they admit this, especially Starsky.

Thinly he asked, “What?”

“Give it a break, you know what I’m talking about. Just wait till I tell Aunt Millie,” Huggy said in a loud whisper, bringing his hand to his sore throat. Looking at an appalled, Starsky he managed to squeeze out, “Hey, man, it’s okay.”

“I know, Hug, but damn I wish it hadn’t happen.”

“Starsky, we all wish none of it had happened,” Huggy said softly.

“Oh,” Hutch mildly exclaimed.

“Don’t need it,” Starsky muttered as Hutch continued to get to his feet.

“Starsky you know…”

“Fine, then…”

“No.”

“Come on, buddy…”

Huggy finally held up both hands and scratched out, “Stop. Enough. Just think to yourselves, please.”

Both detectives stared at the man again casually sipping coffee.

“Wait a minute,” Starsky said with wide eyes. “You think…”

Hutch raised an eyebrow, and said, “We can read each others minds, really?”

Hutch crunched up his face giving it serious thought as Huggy nodded and spread his hand broadly from one partner to the other. Starsky and Hutch leaned toward him as he whispered, “Aunt Millie said you two were capable of anything. Man, she thinks you hung the moon and made it bright.”

“Well, she sounds like a marvelous lady,” Starsky beamed, “but I am eternally thankful that I can’t read his mind.”

“I agree,” Hutch chimed in. “If I were you I would never want mine read either.”

All three looked from one to the other, then all shrugged and went back to what they were doing. Huggy drinking coffee and trying not to notice Starsky’s fingers as he strummed the guitar and chewed on the pick. Hutch playing with his hands touched his fingertips together and smiled.

After a few minutes, Starsky spit the slobbery pick into his hand and snapped at Hutch, “What!”

Hutch smirking and shaking his head, cheerfully replied, “Nothing.”

The exasperated Starsky exclaimed, “No, I can’t. Shit, you wouldn’t use it now, and, yes, I do.”

Hutch laughed and asked, “And you?”

“Do not,” Starsky said sullenly.

“Yeah, so glad you do not know what I’m thinking,” Hutch said as he smirked.

Starsky focused his blues fully on him, and no one but his partner will ever know what was said, but Hutch grinned broadly.

Laughing, then, Hutch said, “No, you can’t play it with fingers the size of baseball bats, and, no,” Hutch moved across the short distance and took the offered guitar, “and, yes. Shit, give me that slobbery pick.” Hutch took the pick from him, swiped it against Starsky’s jeans. “No, it doesn’t.”

Huggy shook his head and Starsky gave a lopsided grin to Hutch. “Thanks, I don’t.”

Hutch eased onto the couch sitting close to Starsky. “Starsk, a little thing like losing a stone that could save mankind wouldn’t keep me from being your friend and partner.” Hutch smiled gently at the pitiful look on his partner’s face. “You did something no one had before, you hung on with strength no person should have to have.”

“I had you, Hutch,” said as the universal truth that it was.

Hutch touched the curls as they looked into blue pools of their shared souls.

“Sounds like the stuff I got from Millie, who by the way can’t wait to meet the pair of you. Said you made a damn good team,” Huggy said with admiration, trying to make it sound more like irritation.

One team member squeezed the other’s shoulder and accepted the offered guitar.

“Sing…” Starsky began.

“I know, buddy,” Hutch said, and as Starsky had silently suggested, Hutch did a fine job of “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” in spite of the help from his two buddies voices, one sounding much like the chicken referred to earlier.

They enjoyed a few beers and the companionship of close friends. Huggy left feeling much better about his friends and all their futures including Aunt Millie’s. He had known real fear when Starsky had put his hands around his neck. Aunt Millie would like the report he could now give her, soon as he got his voice back again.

It’s meant to be you know,
In Hutch’s garden,
The vine grows so strong,
Wrapping tight into itself,
Like our love and bond.
Hutch, in this lovely place,
Full of growing wonder,
You share your sweet space.
With only me, my brother,
Here I find peace and rest,
And answers I need, too,
Life’s now at its best.
Surrounded here by you.

“How are we doing that? I mean we always kinda read each other’s minds, but this is getting scary.”

“I don’t know, Starsky, but it won’t stay this strong.”

“Don’t care.”

“Give me my pillow, Starsk. I know you’re not asleep. One fake sore and I’m going to the couch and you can face the boogie men alone.”

Hutch got a pillow in the face. They would be okay in a few days; the anxiety of going to sleep would lessen. Maybe their telepathic ability would dim. Whatever, it didn’t matter. They usually knew each other’s thoughts anyway. Souls shared would never stray too far.

“Love ya.”

“Love you, too, buddy.”

 

THE END