Shadows

By M. Willow

Chapter Eight

Hutch opened his eyes to the stream of sunlight filtering into the room.  He felt a warm body and wondered where he was for an instant.  Maybe I brought somebody home with me, he thought.  But then this body was decidedly masculine, which left no one else but his partner.  He wondered why Starsky would be in his bed as he looked up to the sleeping face of his partner.

 Starsky was lying against the headboard.  Hutch was perplexed as to why he would be in his partner’s arms.  The last thing he recalled was the storm and seeing a shadow in the corner.  The thing had stood there.  He could feel its eyes on him.  And then another flash of lightening revealed it was actually moving toward him.   The thing seemed to be morphing into something human, the features becoming more distinct as it approached.  He had closed his eyes for a second, expecting to feel it touch him, but nothing happened.  He opened his eyes to see it still standing in the corner.   He watched it then, his screams silenced by the sheer terror.  He remembered nothing else, not Starsky entering the room, or getting into bed with him.   He didn’t even remember going to sleep.

Now he had a problem.  He had to make sure Starsky left on schedule.  There was only one way of doing that—make him think everything was okay.  The problem was, even he wasn’t convinced of that.  He was damn sure the shadow was real.  He was damn sure he’d seen the thing change, but he couldn’t figure out what it had been changing into.  He wondered if he would have recognized it if he’d kept his eyes open.  But now he had a problem—how the heck was he going to convince his partner to go now?  He was certifiable.  He had lost his mind.  He knew it and so would Starsky.  No way was he going to leave him like this.  Still he had to try.

He felt Starsky moving so he pasted on a fake smile he hoped his partner would believe and cautiously sat up.  The dark eyes opened immediately.

“Hutch, thank god.  You’re back.”

Hutch smiled.  “Starsky, why are you in my bed?”

Starsky looked at him with troubled eyes.  “Don’t you remember anything about last night?”

He tried to laugh it off. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you screaming like the devil himself was chasin’ you, and then starin’ at that wall like ya could see somethin’ I couldn’t.”

Panic surged through Hutch’s mind, but he kept his face impassive.  He hoped he was convincing, but it was going to be real hard convincing the brunet that he was okay.  They shared an almost psychic sense of each other.  If he was upset, Starsky knew about it even if he was in another room.  How the hell could he possibly hope to pull this off?

“Starsk, don’t kid me about….”

“Hutch, I’m not kiddin’.”

Hutch swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stretched.  “Hey, can’t a guy have a nightmare without his best friend wanting to commit him?”

But Starsky didn’t laugh.  Instead he felt a strong hand grip his arm.  He relaxed against the touch.  If he ever lost that touch, life wouldn’t be worth living.  If Starsky found out, he would hate him.  He’d lose the best thing he ever had.  Starsky was his best friend, his brother.  He just couldn’t face the reality of not having him in his life.  He pasted on the fake smile again.

“I was just tired.  I must have dozed off and had a nightmare.  I’m sorry I scared you babe.  He said this without looking at Starsky.  He wasn’t fooling anybody, but he hoped it would be just enough to keep his partner from pursuing the issue.  There was silence for a while and then he heard his partner start to tell him how bad he’d looked when he came into the room.  Hutch’s heart raced as he heard the story.  He’d remembered everything up till seeing the shadow, but the rest was a blank. 

“I don’t remember any of that but it was just a nightmare,” He said feebly.  He glanced into the blue eyes of his partner.  He saw more than a little worry there.

“Hutch, when I first got back from Viet Nam, I had a friend.  He was pretty messed up in the head after the war.  They use to call it shell shock.  He saw some pretty awful things.  Sometimes, out of the blue, he’d just go nuts.  Think he was still back there fighting for his life.  He’d almost kill himself trying to get away from the Viet Cong.  Usually, somebody was around to calm him down.  But man.  He really believed he was there.  It was scary.  I saw it myself.  He damn near killed me trying to get away.”

Hutch frowned.  Where was Starsky going with this story?  And then it hit him.  He’d had a few years of medical school.  He studied the affects of war on veterans.  But they had suffered traumatic events and he didn’t recall anything in Lamb House that would make him see shadows.  Other than his uncle’s death, living here had been some of the happiest moments in his life.

Hutch cleared his throat.   He didn’t like what he had to do, but if he wanted Starsky to leave, he’d have to be convincing.  He steeled his features.

“It was just a nightmare, Starsk.  I don’t remember it, but lots of people forget their dreams.  Nothing spectacular here.   Now if you want to start that treasure hunt, we better get going.”

He stood and stretched his body, the picture of calm—he hoped. 

“I’m going to take a shower.  Meet you downstairs.”  He grabbed his robe and headed out of the room.  Starsky never said another word, but Hutch knew he hadn’t heard the end of it. 

TBC