It was a bright sunny day as Hutch stood outside his apartment waiting for Starsky to pick him up. He was late which didn’t surprise the blond. He had been late almost everyday since the accident. He knew his friend was not getting enough sleep and he suspected that the curly-haired detective was having nightmares. Hutch had tried to get Starsky to talk about it, but Starsky always found a reason to avoid any conversation regarding Morgan’s death.

Hutch paced the sidewalk, his eyes seeking the reassuring presence of the red tomato. Hutch worried whenever the brunet was late. He recalled the words of the doctor about survivors guilt. He knew if Starsky could have changed places with Morgan he would have without hesitation. The thought chilled him. Had it not been for a man walking his dog, Starsky would have been dead too.

Hutch looked up when he heard the familiar sound of Starsky’s car and stood near the curb. Starsky pulled up and Hutch got in the car. The site greeting Hutch was shocking. Starsky looked as if he had aged ten years overnight. His face was drawn and pale. He had dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh my God, Starsky. I’ve got to get you to a hospital.” Hutch said, grabbing Starsky’s arm.

Starsky yanked his arm back. “Didn’t sleep well, is all. Ain’t going to no hospital.” He started the car, his eyes looking straight ahead as he drove down the street. Hutch was still looking at Starsky.

“I’m not sure you should even be going in. I’ll call Dobey. Tell him you’re sick. He’ll give us a few…”

Starsky slammed his fist on the steering wheel and slammed on the breaks. “I ain’t sick. I just didn’t get enough sleep. I’ll be fine. The last thing I want to do is sit around the house all day or listen to a doctor tell me somethin’ I already know.”

Hutch looked uneasily at his partner. “Starsky, you’re a wreck. Even if you go in, no way is the captain going to let us out on the street. When was the last time you got any rest?”

“Don’t know. Last night. Yeah, I slept last night.”

Hutch knew Starsky was lying. He just couldn’t figure out why he would lie to him. They’d always been honest with each other.

“Listen, buddy, I’ll call the captain. Then we’ll go to your place and crash. How about that?”

“No. I’m not goin’ home.” Starsky said quickly, his eyes darting around the street.

Hutch noted the desperate tone in Starsky’s voice. He seemed nervous about something.

“Then we’ll stay at my place. You take the bed.”

Starsky sat there in silence for a while, his eyes cast out the window. Hutch noticed that he looked like a little boy who had been lost. He looked down at the steering wheel and spoke quietly.

“You seem to think, I’m not capable of taking care of myself. You’ve somehow made yourself my chief guardian. Well, I’m a grown man. I don’t need you or anyone else to take care of me, okay. Been doing that a long time by myself. Now get out.”

Hutch was incredulous. Starsky had never spoken to him in that manner. But then Starsky had never been in such a mental state.

“You don’t mean that. You know I want….”

“You want. Well, I don’t care what you want. Get outa my car, Hutch. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

Hutch reluctantly opened the door. “If you need anything. I mean anything, call me. Okay. Just do that, please.” He got out and watched as the Torino roared down the street.

Starsky arrived home minutes after he left Hutch. Hutch was right—he was in no condition to work. He was a danger to himself and to Hutch. He couldn’t bear it if something happened to Hutch because of him. He had already caused one death.

He thought about the way he had spoken to Hutch. How could he have gotten so angry when Hutch was only trying to help? It had to be the lack of sleep. The nightmares were so vivid that he avoided sleep. And now they had become real. He thought about the nightmare he had last night when he had awakened and found he couldn’t move. It had to be another nightmare. What other explanation could there be? He shuddered as he went into the bathroom and turned on the cold water in the shower. He undressed quickly and stepped into the shower. He needed to stay awake and a cold shower always refreshed him.

Later he exited the shower feeling refreshed. He grabbed his robe and headed for the kitchen. He thought about calling Hutch. Maybe if he told Hutch he could help him. Or at least stay there while he slept. Still, the idea of telling him that he was having nightmares so intense that he was afraid to sleep made him uncomfortable. He sounded like a little kid— afraid of the dark. But he was afraid of the dark. He even slept with the lights on in the bedroom.

Starsky made a cup of coffee, its rich aroma filling the air. He had relied on the strong brew to keep him awake over the past few weeks. He sat on the couch and thought about his life since the accident. He had had nightmares every night. They always involved Morgan. Sometimes they’d be dancing and she would suddenly die in his arms. Sometimes he would relive the moment the car crashed into the water and he’d sat while she died. Each time he’d awakened in a cold sweat. Each time he wanted to call Hutch but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Now he had felt her presence in the room while he lay immobile and she had asked the question he couldn’t answer—why had he let her die?

Starsky rested his head against the back of the sofa. He wondered if he was having a nervous breakdown. He remembered the mental institution that he and Hutch had gone undercover in a few years ago. The patients all seemed so hopeless. Would he wind up in one of those places one day? Would he cry in the night as Morgan visited him yet again? He took a sip the bitter coffee and sat the cup on the table. He laid his head back on the sofa. I’ve got to stay awake, was his last thought as he slipped into a deep slumber.

It was the creak of the floor that awakened him. He tried to move and found that he could not. His breath caught in his throat, as he smelled the putrid scent. He could feel her presence in the room. He struggled to open his eyes. He had to see for himself. He had to know. Maybe it was a cruel joke. Maybe it was someone who wanted to hurt him— to see him go mad. Finally with some effort he was able to open his eyes.. She was standing by the door looking at him. For an instant they locked eyes and then slowly she walked toward him, the scent of decay becoming stronger. It was Morgan Harlow and she was a vision of terror, with her platinum blonde hair, and the flesh that hung from her body. She wore the same green dress that she’d died in. Starsky tried desperately to move, his mind racing. It was Morgan, yet it was impossible. Morgan had died three weeks ago. And then her hands where on face, caressing him.

She leaned down and looked into his eyes, her grey eyes angry. “Why did you let me die?”

His mind screamed but no sound was heard.