I apologize for the lack of recent updates. I will try to post chapters more frequently in the future. Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Hailstorm Chapter 3

Later that evening, Officer Johnson of Internal Affairs came to interview Hutch about what had happened. Starsky leaned on the AC unit, munching on trail mix as he listened to the conversation.

"What's your first name?" Johnson asked.

"Ken."

"That short for Kenneth?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Hutch still looked exhausted, despite sleeping most of the day.

"Last?"

"Hutchinson."

"Spell it?"

"H-U-T...um...H-U-T-C...C..." Hutch looked over at Starsky.

"Go on, buddy," Starsky encouraged him. Is he asking me for help? Starsky studied Hutch's face, looking for a clue. This isn't good.

"H-U-T-C..." Hutch trailed off again. "Sorry...I don- don't- I don't know," he admitted. Johnson sighed.

"Maybe we should try another question. Badge number?"

"Twelve," Hutch answered quickly. Johnson filled in the information. Starsky was glad Hutch had at least remembered the number.

"What time did you leave the station?" Johnson asked.

"I don't know. Around six? Ask Dobey."

"What was the make and model of the motorcycle?"

"How should I know?" Why does it even matter! Who cares!? Hutch thought.

"Maybe we should go back to your name?"

"Kenneth Hutchinson. H-U-T-C..." What's next? Come on, Hutchinson! You've been spelling it for over thirty years! Why is it so hard now? Starsky watched him concentrate. He wanted to give Hutch a hint, but knew he shouldn't.

"Clearly you're not up for this at the moment. I'll come back in a couple days." Johnson gathered his things and quickly left. Hutch ran a hand over his face, sighed heavily, and winced. Starsky was at his side in a second.

"What's wrong? You bleeding again?"

"No!" Hutch snapped.

"What then?" Starsky asked softly. What's really wrong, buddy?

"How could I forget how to spell my name!?" Hutch shook his head in disgust.

"You have a concussion. It's normal to forget stuff."

"My name though? The most basic information ever, and I can't remember it!"

"You remembered your badge number."

"And pretty much nothing else!"

"Sure, but stressing over it won't help. It'll come back. Give it time." Starsky offered Hutch a peanut. Hutch took it and rolled it around in his fingers, examining it. Starsky could see the wheels turning.

"You know something, Starsk? I'm sick of this already."

"I figured." Starsky took the chair Johnson had been sitting in and straddled it.

"They tell you when I can go home?"

"Not anytime soon. They wanna keep an eye on ya' for a while. Run some tests and all that." Starsky purposely didn't bother Hutch with the details. He wasn't going to tell him that he was far from out of the woods. Hutch was already feeling negative enough as it was. Hutch groaned. Starsky shot him a sympathetic look.

"Anyway I can make it better?" Starsky offered.

"You could help me escap-"

"Aside from breaking you out?"

"Bring me some clothes?"

"Sure. You feel up to wearing them? They're gonna be tighter on those scrapes than your fancy dress." Starsky motioned to Hutch's ill-fitting hospital gown.

"Anything is better than this. I feel like an extra sheet." Hutch pulled at the excess fabric of his gown.

"White never was your color anyway. I'll bring you some tomorrow."

"Thanks." Hutch winced again.

"How you feeling, pal?"

"Honestly?"

"No, lie to me blintz! Of course, honestly!"

"Honestly, I've felt better. My head's throbbing and I can count on one hand the places that don't hurt. I'm doing just dandy, Starsk. Just dandy!" Hutch forced a smile, prompting another wince. Starsky wished he could share the pain. Hutch usually wasn't one to complain unless he was truly hurting.

"Sorry. Hope it's better tomorrow."

"Me too."

"Guess I'd better go before they kick me out. Visiting hours end soon."

"Send the nurse in here on your way out please."

"You got it. Goodnight, buddy." Starsky waved as he exited the room.

"Night," Hutch called after him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Even that hurt. He was miserable, even with all the drugs. What if I never get better? The mental part scared him even more. What if my memory doesn't come back? What if I can't think normally again? H-U-T-C... You know this! He tried not to dwell on it, but it was no use. The thoughts and the pain were too much. Didn't really care about sleep anyway…

Starsky stopped by Hutch's place on his way home. He stared into Hutch's closet, wondering what he should pick out. He decided to go with one of Hutch's many green t-shirts. This one was over-sized and had been well-loved. It also bore the logo of a campground in Minnesota Starsky couldn't even guess how to pronounce. He also selected some navy-blue sweatpants, boxers and Hutch's green robe. Can't let the poor thing freeze to death. Boy deserves something cuddly, he thought sadly as he searched the kitchen drawers for a bag to put the clothes in.

He was about to give up when he was startled by a knock on the door. He stood there wondering who would be visiting at this hour. The door opened.

"Ken? You home?" a familiar voice called out.

"Fifi," Starsky answered as he moved to where he could see her. Hutch's housekeeper was no stranger to Starsky. She had been employed by Hutch for years. As for what she actually did for him on a weekly basis, Starsky wasn't sure. Hutch's apartment seemed as messy as always, no matter when Starsky came by, whether Fifi had been there or not.

"David! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. I thought you usually came on Tuesday mornings?" Does she always just let herself in if there's no answer? he wondered.

"I do, but I made extra chicken casserole for dinner and thought Ken might like some," she explained, indicating the dish in her hands.

"Oh. Well, he's not-"

"That's okay. I can just leave it in the fridge," she insisted.

"I'm afraid that's not a very good idea, Fifi." How do I explain this?

"Huh? Why not?"

"He won't be home for a while actually. Might be a few weeks."

"He didn't tell me he was going out of town." Fifi was confused. Hutch always told her when he planned to go away.

"Well...uh he didn't. He got into sort of an accident see-"

"You're kidding! Is he okay?" she interrupted, eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah, he just has to stay in the hospital for a bit. I came by to pick up some of his things."

"What happened?"

"I'm sure he'll want to tell you himself," Starsky passed the buck, hoping she wouldn't ask him anymore questions. He had already said too much. "But since you're here, you know where he keeps his grocery bags?"

"Last lower cabinet on the right, I think."

"Bingo! I've never been able to figure out his system here. Just got used to the old one and then he went and moved!" Starsky complained, trying to change the subject as he threw Hutch's things into the bag.

"What am I gonna do with this casserole?" Fifi mumbled. She seemed lost now that her plans had been derailed. Starsky felt sorry for her.

"You could probably freeze it," he suggested.

"Yeah. I guess I could." She stared at the floor and made no effort to move.

"Well, I gotta go get some sleep. Never know what errands he might send me on tomorrow!" He grinned and picked up the bag. Fifi continued to stand there. "Uh...need a lift home?" he asked.

"What? Sure. Poor Ken..." She shook her head. "An accident! Oh my!"

Back at the hospital, Hutch was struggling to fall asleep. He usually slept on his side, but he couldn't lie on his left due to the scrapes, and his broken arm felt too awkward if he laid on his right. He tried to find a position that was even mildly bearable. Nothing was working. Exhaustion had helped before, but now he was too alert to ignore the reached over and turned on the lamp by his bedside.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. What made you think that was a good idea? Stay still!

"Everything okay in here?" a nurse asked, coming into the room. Hutch wondered if she was the pretty one Starsky had referred to.

"Uh...well...yes. I mean, no." She is good looking, he noted as he took in her features. She had deep green eyes and auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. He couldn't picture her ever being mad at anybody.

"Well let's see what we can do to fix that. What seems to be the trouble?" She quickly skimmed over his chart and checked his IV.

"I don't know exactly," he admitted. He felt confused, stressed, and nervous. He had no real reason to be. He was being looked after. He was safe and yet he couldn't shake the feelings. What's wrong with me?

"Are you in pain?" He nodded. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere. I suppose that's really unhelpful, isn't it?" He felt bad for wasting her time. She probably has people with real problems to see.

"Based on your chart, I'm not surprised. You've been through a lot. I can give you more pain medicine if you'd like. It's been long enough."

"More morphine?" His head felt like someone was jackhammering his skull.

"Yes. Has it been helping?" Hutch didn't like the idea of getting anymore of the drug into his system, but he was in a lot of pain.

"I don-I don't know if I want it." It hurts! Just let her! Take the stupid drugs!

"Can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten?" She looked like she really cared. Hutch could tell she took her job seriously.

"Uh...um...like a seven that spikes into the eights or nines occasionally?" He winced as the pain did just as he had described.

"I think you'd benefit from another dose."

"Okay." He resigned himself to the fact that he was just going to have to continue dealing with the aftereffects of being on morphine. It was too unbearable not to.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed as she left the room. Why do you have to be such a baby? It's not that bad. He told himself. Who am I kidding?! It is that bad! He wanted to cry, and he could tell it might not be that long until he did. He tried to picture things that made him happy. Guitar. Dogs. Starsky's face when he eats health food. It helped some. The nurse returned with the morphine. She quickly switched it out with the empty one.

"There you are. That should help. Can I do anything else for you?"

"You can tell me your name." He wanted to focus on something, anything other than the pain and the drugs.

"Jenny." She smiled and adjusted his pillow for him.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ken."

"I know," she replied, trying to hold back a giggle.

"How? Wha- Oh! The chart!" He grinned sheepishly.

"Get some sleep, okay? I'll come back and check on you after a while." She patted his shoulder.

"Night, Jenny." He once again tried to settle in for the night. He eventually managed to dose off as the morphine worked its magic.

Hutch found himself on the motorcycle again. The storm raged around him, battering him on all sides. He fought to keep going. He had to. Chandler would not die. Not on his watch. The road curved up ahead. He knew what was coming. He tried to slow down, but he just kept accelerating instead. NO! SLOW DOWN! DON'T! He squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared himself. The bike lost traction. Time froze for a moment. He was flying. He saw the bike below him. The hail fell in slow motion. He was falling and falling and falling… Dreading an impact that seemed to be taking its time arriving. NO! Suddenly, it did. Vivid and brutal. He felt the flesh stripped from his body. Head bouncing on the asphalt as he slid into the ditch. The rosebush cutting into his palms. His foot breaking. The hail snapping his arm. Everything was happening all at once. He screamed and cried out for help until his throat was raw. No one can hear you! He wailed and called out once more, praying someone would come. But he knew no one would. He was all alone. He would die here.

"Ken! Ken...KEN, WAKE UP!" A voice broke through the fog.

He felt hands on his shoulders. He struggled against them, but they wouldn't let go.

"Starsky?!" He opened his eyes to see Nurse Jenny in front of him.

"Ken, it's me, Jenny. Your nurse. Calm down, okay? It's all right. You're safe." She looked into his wild eyes and spoke calmly.

"What?" Hutch struggled to get fully conscious. "Oh. I um...I'm s-s-...I'm sor- sorry. What h-happened?"

"Bad dream. You were screaming in your sleep. Take a few deep breaths." Her hands hadn't left his shoulders. He leaned into her touch and tried to do as instructed.

"Okay," he whispered. He had to try to calm down. It's over. It's not real. You're good. Everything is fine...Then why do I feel like this?

"Think you can go back to sleep?" She readjusted the sheets and checked his IV.

"I dunno." He stared at the wall ahead of him. The clock on it read 3:23. Morning's a long way off.

"Try okay? I'll come back in an hour and check on you." She smiled slightly and turned off his bedside lamp.

He laid there in the dark, letting his brain run wild. He replayed the accident over and over, focusing on every detail. He knew he had to stop. He had to calm down. His breathing was too rushed. He had to stop panicking and get some rest. Things that make you happy. Go! He thought hard, trying to focus. Plants. Books. My apartment. Stargazing. Exercise. Solving a case. Plaid shirts. Hugging someone you love. Beating Starsky at Monopoly. The woods. Family. Starsky…

He woke up only an hour and a half later. It was the same as before. Same dream, same screaming, same nurse trying to calm him down. Same list of things that made him happy. He eventually drifted off again.

The next morning, Starsky got up earlier than he normally did. He drove out to the scene of Hutch's accident. He parked on the shoulder and got out. He could see where the bike had skidded, where Hutch had fallen into the ditch. He was shocked at how far Hutch had slid. No wonder he's in such bad shape after all this. The rain had taken care of the blood. No one would ever guess there had been an accident there if they didn't know what to look for. Starsky climbed down into the ditch in search of what he came for.

Starsky arrived at the hospital at 8:10 carrying a box and a grocery sack. He entered the elevator and punched Hutch's floor. He whistled a tune as he waited. The doors opened and he started down the hall.

"Excuse me, sir." A voice behind him called. He turned around to face the pretty nurse. It looked like she was off duty now.

"Yes?"

"You're Ken's friend, right?" she asked. Her expression worried him. His heart skipped a beat.

"Yes. Is he all right?"

"He had a rough night, but I think so. He woke up screaming. Twice."

"Really? Oh my..."

"My shift ended at seven, but I thought you should know. I was with him both times. He told me you'd probably be arriving around ten after visiting hours." Starsky couldn't hide his grin. Visiting hours had begun at eight, which was exactly ten minutes ago.

"Guess he knows me pretty well! Thanks for the heads up."

"You're welcome. He kept asking for a Starsky? I'm assuming that's you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"That's...unique."

"It's my last name. He calls me that. We're cops."

"I see. What do other people call you?"

"Dave. What do people call you? Other than nurse?"

"Jenny. Nice to meet you officially, Dave."

"Likewise, Jenny."

"Well, I'd better be going. I hope your friend feels better today."

Starsky shifted the box in his arms and continued to Hutch's room. He entered to find Hutch sitting up with a breakfast tray in front of him. It was still covered.

"Morning, blintz!" He placed the box and the bag on a chair and took a good look at his partner. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. This ain't good.

"Hey, Starsk."

"What kinda grub they servin' ya in this joint?" Starsky asked as he lifted the cover off the tray to reveal French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, a fruit cup and a carton of milk. "Hey, that doesn't look half bad! I picked up a breakfast burrito on the way over, so we can eat together!"

"Good for you. I haven't eaten anything since before the accident." Hutch stared at his plate.

"You mean you didn't have anything yesterday?"

"You were here most of the day, did you see me eat?"

"No, but Jenny could've brought you a midnight snack or something. Heard you two spent some time together last night." Starsky moved the box off the chair and sat down. He reached into the bag and pulled out a smaller sack containing his burrito.

"Yeah. About that-"

"Uh uh! Don't do that, buddy!" Starsky warned, taking a bite of his breakfast.

"Do what?"

"Tell me it was no big deal, you're fine, just a little dream, that I needn't worry. All that baloney." Hutch was speechless. Starsky has taken the words right out of his mouth.

"It really wasn't."

"Nurse Jenny wouldn't have stayed an hour past her shift and stopped me in the hall if it wasn't."

"So? I had nightmares, okay? It happens to everyone occasionally." Hutch poked at the fruit cup with his fork.

"I don't remember the last time I woke up twice in the same night screaming from one though. It's not exactly part of the nightly routine." Starsky argued.

"Fine, I'll admit it. I had a bad nightmare or two and they scared me half to death. Now shut up and eat that disgusting trash you call a breakfast burrito!" Hutch snapped.

"Wow, somebody's a bit grouchy this morning! Why take it out on this poor little burrito though? What did he ever do to you?" Hutch glared at him.

"Nothing about a breakfast burrito should be fried, Starsky. I can literally see the grease dripping off of it!"

"Adds extra flavor. Eat your fruit, nature boy!"

"It's canned fruit cocktail," Hutch informed him, a disgusted look on his face.

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's packed in syrup. Tastes horrible."

"Eat the French toast then if the fruit doesn't meet your unrealistically high standards."

"It's not unrealistic to get fresh fruit in this part of the country. They could at least can it in juice!" Starsky tried to suppress a chuckle as Hutch continued the oh so familiar speech on the evils of canned fruit. "I mean, it's more work to add the syrup than to- What are you laughing at?" Hutch balanced the fork in his casted right hand and attempted to cut the French toast.

"Hard being a lefty isn't it?" Starsky teased, taking Hutch's silverware to cut for him. Hutch took a small bite. "How is it?"

"Dry." Hutch plunked his fork back on the tray.

"You have to eat something, Hutch."

"I'll eat the eggs. Want my bacon?" Starsky accepted the offer. Hutch managed to finish the eggs in a matter of minutes. Starsky guessed he was hungrier than he'd let on.

"Drink your milk too," Starsky ordered. "I know it's not from a goat or whatever, but I think you'll survive."

"Yes, Mother," Hutch grumbled as he tossed Starsky the carton. He hadn't even had the cast on his right arm for forty-eight hours and it was already driving him crazy. He opened his straw and obediently sipped on his drink. Starsky cleaned the rest of his plate for him.

"So," Starsky paused and wandered over to the window. "How about that Nurse Jenny?"

"She's the one you said was pretty, right?"

"Yup. What do you think of her?"

"She's not the worst thing to wake up to. Nice too. Where are you taking her?" Hutch asked as he grabbed the straw from his empty carton.

"Huh? Taking her?"

"Don't play dumb, Starsk. Surely, you've asked her out. Probably for this weekend. And you're probably taking her to some taco joint that violates like ten health codes, followed by a scary movie so she'll feel inclined to snuggle up in mock fear as an excuse to touch you," Hutch explained as he jammed the straw into the cast on his arm. Oh yes! Goodbye, stupid itch!

"As wonderful as that sounds for a first date, I am not as predictable as you think, buddy. I was asking your opinion because I thought you might want to ask her out yourself." Hutch looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are we sure I'm the one who's concussed?"

"Hear me out! This situation isn't all bad. You got the advantage here, blondie!"

"Why yes, the advantage of being laid up and unable to go anywhere! How did I miss that silver lining? Every girl wants to go on a date to the guy's hospital room. Where she works. With him on drugs."

"Not now, when you get out. In the meantime though, she has to see you every day. Care for you, get to know you, all that. Use all those motherly instincts. She'll have to say yes!"

"This is one of your worst ideas yet."

"Aw come on, Hutch! You said she was nice!"

"So? She is. Doesn't mean I'm interested in her."

"Falling in love with the woman who's literally nursing you back to health doesn't sound romantic to you?"

"It sounds like a soap opera plot." Hutch continued attacking the itch with his straw. "Ask her out yourself if you want."

"Fine, I just thought I'd do you a favor-"

"Speaking of favors, did you get me some clothes like I asked?"

"I did." Starsky motioned to the grocery sack at his feet. "I also brought you something else." He picked up the box and placed it gently on Hutch's lap.

"What's this?"

"Something to cheer you up. Open it." Hutch slowly opened the flaps to reveal a small, potted rosebush. Starsky waited eagerly for his partner's reaction. A smile slowly crept across Hutch's face.

"I love it, Starsk!" He was beaming. Starsky smiled back.

"It's your bush too. The one that hurt ya'," he explained.

"You drove all the way out there?" Hutch gently ran his fingers across the petals on one of the blooms.

"Yep. Borrowed one of your gardening books so I could dig the thing up without killing it too."

"Thanks, it's great. Is this the pot I've-"

"The one you've had in the back of your car for ages? It is. Figured you'd never get around to doing anything with it, so I intervened and gave it some purpose."

"Put him over by the window, would you?" Starsky obliged the request.

"It's a boy rosebush?"

"It looks like a Sam to me. Therefore, he's a boy," Hutch explained, as if rosebush naming was the most natural thing in the world. Starsky decided to humor him.

"I'm not sure. He's kinda pretty for a boy..." After all, he is on drugs. If naming this rosebush takes his mind off things, then so be it!

"Maybe Sam is short for Samantha?" Hutch offered hesitantly. He seemed sincerely concerned that Starsky would veto his idea. Starsky laughed.

"Sure, Hutch. Samantha and/or Sam it is!" Starsky made a mental note to make some sort of name tag for the plant when he got home later.

An hour later, Starsky was flipping through the newspaper while Hutch tried to sleep.

"Starsky."

"Aren't you supposed to be napping?" Starsky peered over the sports section. Hutch was lying on his back, left hand pressed to his forehead.

"I still can't do it. I keep getting stuck on C." It took Starsky a second to realize what Hutch was talking about.

"You'll spell your name just fine tomorrow. Relax. Try not to worry about it."

"I can't! My own name! What if my brain is permanently-"

"Just try," Starsky advised, taking Hutch's left wrist and tucking his arm back under the blankets. He returned to his paper, but he couldn't focus. What if Hutch's worries aren't completely unfounded? What if his brain is permanently damaged? What if he can't work like he used to? What's gonna happen to him? To us? No! Don't even think like that! I've gotta be strong. And positive. Take my own advice and try not to worry. But he was worried. Extremely. He had several reasons to be. But little did he know, he was about to get more. A lot more.