Starsky regained consciousness slowly.  He felt his body sway, felt the warm breeze caress his face.  It was starting to become a habit, waking up, not knowing where he was.  This time he was afraid to open his eyes.  What would he find, another dead girl?  He struggled to recall the day.  He remembered the bedroom with the dead girl who looked like Morgan.  He remembered sitting at the kitchen table looking out the window. And then, suddenly he remembered the rest of the day.  How Hutch had arrived.  The mad dash to escape.  His pleading to let him go and Hutch insistence that he was no murderer, and then his world dissolved with a resounding crash now he was here and the breeze could only mean one thing.  He opened his eyes and saw two things at once— Hutch driving the car and the inky blackness outside.

Time stood still.  He told himself that he was safe in the car.  The darkness could not touch him in the car.  Not with Hutch there.  Not with the doors locked.  Starsky held his breath as the fear threatened to overtake him.  He counted the seconds, willing his breath to come under control.  His body was shaking.  He repeated the mantra in his mind.  He was in the car.  Hutch was here.  The darkness couldn’t get in.  It had worked the other night.  The night he had worked late.  He had been able to ride in the car and get home.  It had been scary, but he had managed to get inside before the panic attack could seize him.  But now the blackness was more complete.  No streetlights lit the road.  No houses with comforting lights to remind him that he was safe.  He felt the car slow as it approached a clearing with trees that made road impossibly darker.  And then the car stopped and Hutch looked at him, his face in shadows.

“We’re here, buddy,” he heard him say.  “Gonna figure this out.  Find out who’s doing this to you?”

Starsky held his breath as he watched Hutch open the car door and step into darkness.  He wanted to scream out, to stop him from leaving him alone with the darkness.  But he couldn’t speak.  His breaths came in short burst as the confines of the car seemed to disappear and the blackness of the night enveloped him.  He commanded himself to close his eyes and think of a place with light.  And then Hutch opened the door and the night ripped through Starsky and the scream that he had been holding escaped.

Hutch noticed when Starsky regained consciousness.  His friend had not been unconscious that long, but it chilled him to think that he may have injured his partner.  But then Starsky had awakened and sat in the car silently.  He’d continued to drive, heading for a cabin that Huggy found. 

Hutch pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition.  Starsky was sitting quietly in the back seat.  He stared ahead as if in shock.  Hutch got out of the car.  When Starsky did not get out, Hutch came around and opened his door.  Starsky screamed, the sound echoing through the night.  He was babbling, “I can’t, I can’t the dark.  Oh my god, the dark.  Hutch help me.  Help me.” 

Starsky was hysterical.  Hutch was grateful that the cabin was isolated.  No one could hear the screams, but it chilled him.   Hutch watched as his best friend started kicking, desperately clinging to the car..  He pulled him from the car, Starsky pleading for him to turn the lights on.  Hutch couldn’t understand.  His friend was in the mist of a full panic attack.  Hutch tried to recall his medical training, but all he could think of was getting him inside the house.  Hutch was dragging him at this point, listening to his screams and his frantic efforts to get away.   Hutch pulled him inside the cabin and turned on the lights.  By this time Starsky was almost hyperventilating and Hutch realized that he had to calm him down quickly before the panic attack could become worse.  Starsky fell to the floor and rolled into a fetal position, Hutch still holding him.  Hutch rocked him, telling him to calm down, keeping his voice even and soothing.  Slowly Starsky’s breaths returned to normal.

****                                                                                                                      *****

Hutch sat in the cabin watching the slow, even breaths of his best friend as he slept.  Every light in the cabin was on and Hutch sat in the chair watching, waiting for the signs of hysteria to return.  But they would not, not as long as he kept the lights on.  He wondered again how his partner had managed to keep his phobia a secret.  He thought back over the past few months at the number of times Starsky had canceled a late night evening saying he had a date.  Now he realized it had all been a lie.  Starsky had been suffering while he had sat idly yet again. 

“How many times?” Hutch said, as he hung his head and tried to keep the tears from falling.  He had let Starsky down so many times in the past few years.  He had slept with Kira.  He had let Gunther nearly end his partner’s life.  And he had let the Harlow family drive Starsky insane.  It was a harsh reality, but as he looked at the figure of his sleeping partner he faced the reality that only insanity could drive Starsky to murder and he had allowed it.  A psychiatrist would say that Starsky was trying to kill the woman who still haunted his dreams.  Three women.  All dead.  All look-alikes for Morgan Harlow.  Still, Hutch clung to the hope that he was wrong.  Starsky could never kill anyone.  It’s just not in him.

Hutch stood abruptly dropping the cup of coffee to the floor.  Starsky opened his eyes when he heard the crash. Both men locked eyes, the hurt between them palpable.

***                                                                                                                          ***

“The first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke.  It was late.  I was out of bread so I went to the store.” 

Starsky was sitting on the couch staring into the fireplace as he spoke.  Hutch sat protectively close to him, his hand on Starsky’s back.   “I was a little jumpy when I started for the store, but I ignored it.  I don’t know.  It had been a rough day so I just shrugged it off.”  Starsky paused, closing his eyes.   He couldn’t meet his friend's eyes, not yet, maybe never.   “When I came back, I couldn’t get out of the car.  For some reason I felt safe in the car so I stayed there all night.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me?  I could have helped?”

Starsky stood and turned his back to Hutch as he spoke, “And what would you have done?  Worry?   I was already doin’ enough of that for the both of us.”

Starsky paced the floor.  He couldn’t bear to see the hurt and betrayal he knew had to be in Hutch’s eyes.   Hutch took a deep breath before voicing the next question.

“Starsk, what do you remember about the murders?”

Starsky stopped pacing.  He knew the question was coming, but the thought of answering sent chills through his body.  Starsky sat in the chair next to the fireplace.  It was time to face what he had become.  He looked at Hutch, his voice steady as he spoke. “Feeling the knife in my hand.”  He closed his eyes before continuing. “Making love to the last girl.”

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky and the room seemed to dissolve around them.  They could hear the crackle of fire and smell the scent of wood.  Outside the crickets surrounded the house in a wall of sound.  Yet in that moment their eyes communicated the fear, the sadness, the love, and sacrifice they would endure for each other.   Starsky knew he was unworthy of that love.  He was a monster, a killer of innocent women.  He had no right to love.  He had no right to live.  He had killed three women and he had destroyed Hutch.  Hutch was a wanted man now, but his only crime had been in loving him.

“What kind of monster am I, Hutch?  I walked into that club and picked up a girl for the purpose of murdering her.  How could I do somethin’ like that?  What kind of monster am I?”

Starsky put his hands over his eyes and his body started to shake as tears streamed down his face.  He would lose everything now and Hutch would suffer because of him.  He felt the comforting touch of Hutch as his friend took him in his arms. He heard the soft reassurance in his friend’s voice.  “Me and thee.  Nothing will ever change that.  Me and thee.”

***                                                                                                                              ***

“You didn’t kill those girls.  Someone else did and we’re going to find out who?”

“But Hutch.  I remember being with them.  I remember the scent of their perfume.  Making love to the last one.  I remember it, Hutch?”

It was early morning.  They were sitting in the small kitchen having breakfast and Starsky had just described the last murder.  Huggy had had the kitchen fully stocked so they were able to have ham and eggs and Hutch even found something that was actually healthy.  Now both men sat at the table talking about what had transpired. 

Hutch sat silently for a while.  “But, do you remember actually killing them?”

Starsky stared at his friend for a moment.  He remembered details only the killer could know, but he never remembered actually killing them.

“Listen, Gordo.  You told me about all three murders.  You told me what they were wearing.  Where you found them.  Even the feel of the knife.  But how did you feel when you killed them?  What did they look like when they took their final breaths?”

“Don’t know.” Starsky said confusingly.  “I don’t remember.”

“Then explain to me how you could remember the color dress the last woman was wearing and not remember killing her.  We found the body on the floor.  How did she get there?  Did you put her there after you murdered her?  Did she fall to the floor after she was dead?  Did you kill her while she was lying on the floor? Did you make love to her on the floor and then kill her?” Hutch was speaking fast, the questions coming too fast for Starsky to process. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Starsky shouted.  “I can’t remember anything after we made love.”

Hutch moved forward in his seat, his eyes meeting Starsky’s.  “Tell me how she felt.  How you felt.”

The color rose in Starsky’s face, his breathing slowed.  “I remember tearing the dress.  It was very sexy, kinda see through.  Hutch, it was intense.   We barely made it to the bedroom.”

“What happened when you got to the bedroom?”

“What do ya think happened,” Starsky said, clearly embarrassed.

“I mean after.  You said you came while the knife was in your hand.”

“Hutch, I can’t…I can’t talk about this.  I killed a girl.  What can I say?”

“You can tell me what happened after you touched the knife.”

Starsky stared at his friend.  “I woke up and she was lying on the floor dead and I was covered with blood.”

Hutch sat back in his chair.  “You didn’t kill anyone.”

“That’s crazy, Hutch.” Starsky said, raking a hand through his unruly hair.

“Is it?  You remember a few years ago when we were protecting Joe Durniak.  The guy that killed him actually remembered his wife being gunned down.  The funny thing was the guy didn’t have a wife and didn’t remember who he actually was.”

Starsky remembered the case well.  It was an organization that actually brainwashed people into killing for revenge.  In the end the leader of the organization died in a helicopter crash and the rest of the people were imprisoned.  Or so they hoped.  In reality, they would never be certain if they had found everyone involved.  And they would never be certain of how a man could be so brainwashed that he had complete memories of a wife who had never existed. 

Starsky smiled.  “Hutch if it’s true than I didn’t murder anybody.  I’m innocent.  Somebody just…”

“Placed the memories of the women in your mind.  Then they hired somebody else to do the actual killing.” Hutch added.

“Why not just get me to kill the women?”

“Don’t know.  Maybe they tried and you just wouldn’t do it.”

Starsky sighed.  “When did they get to me?  The other guys were held in a compound when they used the brainwashing technique on them.  You would have known if I had been taken for any length of time.”

“Yeah.  Unless they started almost a year ago.  When you were being visited by Morgan.  Maybe the old lady was hedging her bets.  In case one plan didn’t work.  Try another.”

Starsky recalled the last statement the old lady made to him almost five months ago:

“You will suffer as I have suffered.  You will live as I will live.  And one day you will beg for death and I shall not grant it.”

“You’re right.  They coulda taken me at night and brought me back.  The chances of somebody lookin’ out the window in the middle of the night would be slim.”

“I don’t think you went anywhere at night.  They couldn’t take the chance that you would be seen in public.  That’s why they gave you a phobia.  No way would you go out at night.  I think these memories were placed in your head and then acted out later.”

“But how?  I dreamed about each murder.  How did they know I’d dream about any particular murder?  Plus I recognized all of the girls.”

Hutch thought for a while.  “What if they used some kinda trigger.  Could be anything, a telephone call sometime during the day.  As for the women—all of them were hoping for careers as actresses.  What if the women were hired for what they thought were acting gigs…”

“And the scenes were acted out and filmed for me to see.”  Starsky continued.

“Then later all they would have to do is kill the girl and trigger your memory of the incident.”

“Which would explain why I can’t actually remember killing the women.” Starsky added.

Starsky stood.  “So simple.  Janet Harlow has the money and the connections.”

“To create a plan B.” Hutch added.

“In case plan A didn’t work,” Starsky finished.

“Now how do we prove it?” Starsky asked.

“We find the films.”

Starsky sat down, his dark blue eyes meeting the lighter blue eyes of Hutch.  “That ain’t gonna be easy.  They’re not about to just leave incriminating evidence layin’ around.”

“You’ve got to remember where they took you for the original brainwashing.  I don’t think it was your apartment.  They wouldn’t want to take the chance of leaving something behind or having me show up.”

Starsky shook his head.  “And how do you propose getting me to remember where they took me?”

“Simple.  We get Jennifer to hypnotize you.”  

*******                                                                                                          *********

Jennifer Reese was alone in her bedroom when she heard a soft thud coming from her living room.  She quickly opened her eyes and sat up.  The sun bathed the room in a soft light and she could hear the normal sounds of summer—a next door neighbor mowing his lawn, a school bus in the distance.  Maybe I imagined it, she thought.  She looked at her clock.  It was nine o’clock.  Dobey had told her that she could come in later in the afternoon so she’d planned to sleep late.  She lay back down.  Probably the remnants of a nightmare, she thought.  And then she heard the sound of footsteps and knew she wasn’t imagining it.  She grabbed the gun that sat on her night stand and stood putting on her robe.

“Come on in,” she said confidently.  “Your mother will cry tomorrow.”

Her response was met with silence and then a voice barely above a whisper, “Jennifer, it’s me, Hutch.”

Jennifer kept the gun in her hand as she approached the door.  She saw the blond detective standing in her living room.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing,” she demanded.

“Trying to save the life of my best friend,” Hutch answered.

“By helping a murderer and breaking in my apartment?  What were you going to do, take me to him so he can kill me?”

“He didn’t do it, Jennifer.  If you would just listen…”

“The only thing I’m going to do is arrest your ass, and find your murdering partner before he kills again.”

Hutch moved closer only to see her raise the gun and release the safety.  He stopped.  “Just hear me out.  Please.  I had to break in.  They’re looking for us everywhere. I’ve got nowhere else to go.  You’re my only hope.”

“Sit down, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Hutch sat on the couch.  “Talk,” she commanded.  Hutch told her everything.

***                                                                                                                  ***

Starsky paced the floor.  Hutch had left over three hours ago and hadn’t returned.   If the police found Hutch they may shoot on site.  Hutch would never lead the police to him, he’d die first.   He was also concerned about Hutch approaching Jennifer.  I should have told him to get Dr. Crabtree, he thought.  He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thought of that in the first place.  Now Hutch was putting his life in danger by approaching a fellow officer, an officer trained in the use of guns.  Starsky shuddered.  He wanted to go to Hutch, but he had promised he wouldn’t leave the cabin.  At any rate, he didn’t have a car and the cabin was miles from their nearest neighbor.  Starsky paced until he heard the sound of an approaching car.  Hutch hopefully.  He was a dead man if it was anyone else.  

Starsky went to the window and peered out.  He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Hutch getting out the car with Jennifer.  He stood back as the two approached the house.

Starsky watched as Jennifer entered the cabin.  She looked at him, her eyes unreadable.  The room was silent as Jennifer continued to stare at him.  It was unnerving. 

“Your partner believes in you. I’m not certain,” she finally said. 

For the first time Starsky noticed a slight trace of an accent.  Something foreign. 

“I’m a licensed psychiatrist.  I’m therefore bound under doctor patient confidentiality.  While I’m here you will call me Dr. Reese.   Hutch is not bound under the same laws.  Do you want him here?” 

“I trust him with my life,” Starsky answered.

“Then let’s get started,” she said taking a seat on the chair by the fireplace.  She reached into her purse and handed Hutch a sachet of leaves.  Prepare this then return. 

Hutch looked at the leaves.  “What is it?”   

“It’s tea, silly.  Prepare two cups and bring it here.” 

Hutch left the room, leaving Starsky with Jennifer. 

“You really think you can help me?”

“Yes.  I have a special technique.  It’s not something you’ll see your average psychiatrist use, but it’s effective.”

Starsky moved a nervous hand through his hair.  “Never been hypnotized before.”

“Not that you remember,” Jennifer added.

Starsky realized the truth of the statement.  Brainwashing on this level had to involve some sort of hypnosis.  He wondered how long it had taken them to convince them that he had killed three women.  It chilled him to think that he may still be a murderer no matter how repulsive it was to him.  He thought about Hutch who had so much faith in him.  He was practically standing there with the smoking gun and Hutch still believed in his innocence. 

He looked at Jennifer and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

****                                                                                                                               **** 

The tea was tied into tiny sachets.  Hutch placed two bags in the steaming water and noticed the slight aroma of cinnamon and mint.  He wondered what was in the tea.  It chilled him that it could be a drug.  Still, Jennifer was a trusted cop.  He had no reason to believe that she would deliberately give his friend something that could harm him. 

Hutch returned to the room carrying two steaming cups of tea.  Starsky and Jennifer were speaking quietly when he entered the room.  It was stunning how their relationship had switched from flirtatious banter to the cool professional distance of a doctor and her patient.  Starsky looked expectantly at Hutch as he handed Jennifer a cup of tea. 

“Give the other to Starsky,” she ordered.  Hutch handed the cup to Starsky. 

“What’s in it?” Hutch asked, still holding the cup.

“Tea,” she answered.

“Give it to me,” Starsky implored.  “I trust her.” 

Hutch saw the truth in the statement.  Starsky trusted her and Hutch had no choice.  Jennifer was their only hope.  Hutch handed the cup to Starsky and took a seat next to him.

“You can’t sit there.  Get a chair next to me or sit somewhere else in the cabin.  Just not in front of me,” Jennifer ordered.

  Hutch pulled a chair next to Jennifer and sat down.

“You need to know something about my practice.  I’m a psychiatrist who has studied techniques which are, how do I put it, considered unorthodox by many in my profession.  She took a sip of tea before continuing, “These techniques were learned from a cult who traced their roots back thousands of years to the time of Christ.  I prefer not to explain further in that regard.  Suffice it to say, the technique I will use will give us results.”  Jennifer paused, her eyes focused on Hutch. 

“Is it safe?” Hutch asked worry evident in his voice.

“Without fail,” Jennifer said confidently.  “Now drink,” 

Starsky took a sip of the tea. 

“Drink all of it,” she ordered and Starsky drank the hot liquid almost in one gulp. 

“I’m going to take him back to when it all started.” Jennifer said.

Hutch looked confused.  “What do you mean?”

“Back to the night Morgan died,” she replied.