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Simon’s Dream

By

Catlen

   Hutch bound up the hill at the deserted zoo as fast as his legs would go. He could hear the feet of a half dozen or so uniformed officers and his captain following close behind. He cursed himself as he ran.

   As he came over the rise of the hill, weapon drawn, breathless, his eyes searched the terrain. The quiet was deafening. Only the wind whispered past his ears, gently rustling through his blond strands. An odd sight stilled his gaze. A metal frame hung ominously over a platform. Ropes dangled from the top and just below the ropes – something lying in a heap at the foot of the platform. Something covered in black … dotted with red.

   Hutch started a sprint toward what he knew was his worst nightmare. Tears burning his cheeks as he shouted out, "Starskeeeee!"

   Once at the bottom of the hill, he mounted the platform. Pulling the lifeless form face-up into his lap, he was struck by the piercing dark blue eyes that stared blankly at him. His partner’s face covered with bruises, bloodied, and viciously abused. The lifeless face painted a picture of pain and pure terror. The curl-ringed head lolled back in his arms. Hutch gasped at the long gash across his partner’s throat.

   "Starsk …" he whimpered. "Please …"

   "He’s gone, Hutchinson," Dobey’s catching voice drifted over his shoulder.

   "No!"

   Hutch laid a gentle hand on his partner’s unmoving chest, willing the heart to beat again. "Please, buddy. Please don’t!"

   He could hear Dobey behind him directing one of the uniforms to call for the coroner’s wagon.

   Hutch sat quietly rocking his partner in his arms. Shock had set in. One of the uniformed officers had turned and found a quiet place to throw up. Several others huddled in a circle giving each other support. They held great affection and respect for the curly-haired detective. He was their friend, too.

   Hutch lifted the hand from his partner’s chest, feeling a warm wetness beneath. His hand was covered with blood that had soaked through the black robe that Starsky was still wearing. He slowly and gently pulled open the robe. Hutch trembled at the sight of the message carved into his partner’s chest.

   "Nooooo!!!!!!!!"

   The scream echoed through the deserted zoo, and echoed loudly in Hutch’s head as he jerked upright in his bed from a fitful, terror-filled sleep. His breathing was labored and fast. He eased his wet face into his hands and tried to slow his breathing to a manageable pace.

   After a few quiet moments, a faint whisper rose from behind him on the bed, "Hutch …"

   He slowly glanced around to see his partner’s bruised, frightened, face staring up at him.

   "Hutch, I’m … I’m …"

   He turned on the bed and pulled a trembling Starsky into his arms, absently examining his throat and then chest. His embrace was enthusiastically reciprocated. After another moment, Hutch took in and blew out a deep breath. "Shh, it’s okay, Starsk. I’m here."

   "Dream … " mumbled the dark-haired detective. "Nightmare …"

   "Yeah, me too," answered the blond. "They’re all in custody. They can’t hurt you anymore."

   "I’m … g-glad that …" Starsky’s voice cracked, Hutch’s embrace tightened.

   "Glad about what, buddy," Hutch asked softly, still rocking his partner gently.

   "Glad it was just my d-dream," Starsky whispered. "Glad it wasn’t Simon’s Dream."

   Hutch’s body quaked at the irony. "Me too, buddy."

   Hutch eased his partner back onto the bed and pulled the warm blanket over his shoulders. Brushing the dark hair back from his face, Hutch placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

   "Me too …"

THE END