Phoenix Rising

Starsky slowly awakens after Gunther.

Episode related: Sweet Revenge

There was a soft awareness that slowly awakened in him.

At first, just a gentle nudge to his being that he was still here. The milky, flowing cotton ball world he was immersed in began taking on substance.

He was warm and cozy in his cocoon, and was only peripherally aware of the knocking on his consciousness. His first rational thought was “Go away,” then he melted back into his world.

Time passed unheeded and he drifted and was content. But still reality pursued him and once again vied for his attention. No slow wake-up call this, but a bugle blast of pain that made him shrivel within his world and whimper.

The hard reality of pain burst through his protective wall and drove his sleeping self to shocked awareness. Waves and waves of searing pain brought him to a level of panic where no sense or reason prevailed.

“Stop. No more. Please.”

His mind yelled at whomever would listen, although he was unaware of any other presence. He started slipping further and further away, and as he did the pain diminished.

Then he left.

“It’s nice here,” he thought. “Not much colour, and I can’t see or feel much, but it’s nice.” He wasn’t panicked about where he was, just had a sense of waiting, anticipating.

Then suddenly he was desperate, racing in a panic, holding pain and tears at bay. Fear and love tore at him in confusion. Hutch.

“Oh god. I’m here Hutch, I’m here. Wait, please wait I’m coming.” He acknowledged an unknown agreement, and then plummeted back into hell’s fire.

He felt his body, knew it hurt everywhere. There was a persistent barely manageable pain. His dulled senses tried to understand but even thinking seemed to hurt so he slid back into oblivion.

Sound. High pitched, repetitive sound. Damn, he didn’t want to wake up. Then he felt it. An aura of soothing comfort wrapped itself around him, caressing every cell of his body. He felt so secure and cared for and loved. He gratefully returned to his twilight world.

Voices. Soft spoken, quiet controlled voices. People. Mixed in with those high-pitched noises. Hospital. God no. Not again.

“Good morning Mr. Starsky. It’s a beautiful day today. You should think about waking up and seeing for yourself. Now, let’s see how you’re doing today.” Another voice was added and a professional exchange of information drifted by him. Silence returned and he drifted again.

Then his hand was grasped ever so lightly and the warmth of his security blanket flooded his being. His Hutch.

“You know Starsk, you really should think about waking up now. I miss you, and I don’t have anyone to play with.”

That voice that said so little, yet said it all. The heart was in that voice, and his love was channeled through his touch and eyes. Eyes. He had to open his eyes and see love.

The struggle was too much, and he slept.

Soft words, spoken in a cathedral voice; words of meaning, of hope, of peace. Words that spoke to his heart and buried pain beneath love.

He opened his eyes, and saw love.