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They Come In My Dreams - Part Two
By
Jerrye
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.
Miram 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 wha…" 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 Miram'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."