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Hailstorm Chapter 5

Hutch had put off calling his mother for long enough. It's now or never. Besides, it's not like I have anything else to do. Hutch thought. He picked up the bedside phone dialed the number he had known by heart since he was six years old. Please don't be home, he wished as he listened to it ring. He wasn't eager to be interrogated about his condition. Especially since he didn't have much of anything positive to report. He was beginning to think his wish had been granted when someone finally picked up.

"Hello? Hutchin-"

"Hi, Mom," he interrupted.

"Ken!?" she exclaimed, shock and relief simultaneously evident in her voice.

"Yeah, it's me. Turns out I'm still alive," he half-joked.

"I've been so worried! Dave said he'd keep me updated, but I haven't heard anything in days. I tried calling the hospital, but they wouldn't tell me anything."

"I'm okay, really." Hutch didn't think it sounded convincing, even to his own ears.

"What happened? I heard it was some kind of accident. How are you doing?"

"I broke my foot, my arm, and a rib or two. I scraped up my side pretty good and whacked myself on the head. It's not great," he answered honestly.

"I can be there as soon as tomorrow," she offered.

"Mom, you don't have to. It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of deal? You had a major accident. How many bones did you break again?"

"Three or four," he sighed. How can I blame her? She's just doing what a mother does.

"It is a big deal. How can I not be there? I wanted to fly down sooner, but your father said I should wait until we knew something."

"Now you know firsthand that I'm alive and kicking. So..." He let the sentence trail off.

"Are you telling me not to come?" she asked. He didn't miss the twinge of hurt in her voice. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Look, it's not that I don't want you here. I just don't want to interrupt everything you've got going on. No reason to disrupt your life just to come take care of me."

"Disruption is the least of my concerns right now, honey. I'm worried about you." The sincerity in her words was clear.

"I'm as fine as I can be." Which isn't very fine...He fidgeted with the phone cord while he waited for her response.

"Is Dave there?"

"He had to go back to work undercover. That's probably why you haven't heard from him. He won't be back for a while."

"What about that girl you were seeing? Is she around?"

"No, we called it quits a couple months ago. Didn't I tell you that?"

"No, you never mentioned it, but you also haven't called in a couple months."

"That's not true. I called and talked to Dad," Hutch explained, "Pretty sure I told him it ended with her."

"You expect your Dad to tell me these things? It took him a couple days to even tell me you called."

"I thought he'd have mentioned it. I didn't tell him to keep it a secret." Hutch was glad for the change in subject.

"Well he didn't, but that's beside the point. I don't like you dealing with this all by yourself."

"Mom, I have an entire medical staff attending to me and making sure I don't have too much fun or do anything dumb. Not to mention the captain is checking in on me. Our friend Huggy's been by too. I'll need more help when I get to go back home. That's when I'll really be all on my own. Maybe you can come then?" He hoped she would agree. As much as he wanted his mother's comfort now, he knew it would be even more useful to him later. Besides, he wanted her to miss the worst days of his recovery. He knew it would pain her too much to see him in his current state. He heard a quiet sigh from the other end.

"If that's what you want, then okay. Let me know when as soon as you can, all right? I'm sorry for fussing, but I can't help it when one of my children is hurt. I just love you so much, you know?" she explained. Hutch smiled to himself.

"Yeah, I know. I love you too. Sorry I didn't call sooner."

"Don't worry about it. You get some rest for me, okay? Don't push yourself too hard to get back to normal." Hutch didn't have to guess why his mother had given him those specific orders. She knew him too well.

"I think I'll do just that here in a minute after the next round of medication."

"I'd better let you go then. I'm glad you're feeling at least a little better. We're all thinking about you around here."

"Thanks. Tell everyone hi for me. I'll call you soon, I promise." And I'll make sure not to depend on Dad to pass along information, he added silently.

Starsky had been back at the bar for four days now. Chandler had told them that the next big buy would be their chance. Gregory's stash would run out and he would come back to Gonzalez looking for more. Given the quantity of Gregory's last purchase and the likelihood that the next one would be even larger, Gonzalez was willing to risk cutting the deal himself. When that happened, it would be their chance to nail both with solid evidence. Chandler suspected it would be within the week. Starsky hoped he was right. He kept his ears open, hoping to pick up on any details about when it was going to go down.

He was currently listening to let another fruitless conversation as he neatly stacked some glasses behind the bar. Apparently, someone named Lilly had stood up one of Gonzalez's goons. The man could not seem to understand why and had been lamenting for the last ten minutes about how Lilly had broken his heart. I can tell you why she left, buddy, Starsky thought, she got tired of listening to you whine. Not to mention the whole being a drug dealing criminal business. He finished his task and stood up just as the door opened. Chandler entered, along with more of Gonzalez's employees.

After a round or two of drinks, Chandler wandered up to the bar alone. He leaned his elbows on the counter and cleared his throat, waiting for Starsky to notice him.

"What can I get ya?" Starsky asked casually.

"I was thinking the usual, but I might mix it up a bit this time," Chandler answered. Starsky tried to keep his expression neutral. Ordering the usual meant there was no new information. Mixing it up meant there was some new development. Starsky was grateful it was the latter this time.

"Maybe a Vodka? Whiskey?" Starsky suggested.

"Whiskey sounds good," Chandler answered, making direct eye contact. Whiskey meant he had a location and time for the buy. Starsky tried not to let his excitement show. Months of work was finally going to pay off. He occupied himself with pouring the drink while Chandler lit a cigarette and tossed his matchbook on the bar.

"Here ya go. Enjoy." Starsky handed him the drink. Chandler mumbled his thanks and went back to his table. Starsky waited a minute before retrieving Chandler's abandoned matchbook and sliding it carefully into his back jeans pocket.

He could feel it there for the rest of his shift, taunting him. It was only when he got back to his hotel room hours later that he dared to even think about taking it out. He opened it slowly and found the time and location were written down in small letters on the inside of the cardboard. Well done, Chandler! He smiled as he reached for the phone and dialed the secure line to the precinct. Dobey himself answered, surprising Starsky. He thought for sure Dobey would have gone home by now.

"What do you have?" Dobey asked.

"I got the order we've been waiting for. It's Friday night at eleven."

"Where?"

"Pole barn off the highway just east of here. Used to be part of a pig farm." He waited for Dobey to write the details down before continuing. "You know how Chandler's Mrs. is doing?" He figured he'd find some way to pass the information to Chandler before Friday. The man's gotta be stressed out considering what's about to go down. Might be of some comfort if he knew his wife and unborn kid are okay.

"She called yesterday. Said her last appointment went well and to tell him everything is on schedule."

"He'll be glad to know it, Cap. He's killing it out there." Starsky admired Chandler's dedication and efficiency.

"I wouldn't want to be him. If I were in his position with Edith home pregnant there's no way I'd be doing that well. He's got a promotion coming if this works out."

"He definitely deserves it," Starsky agreed. There was an extended silence.

"Anything else, Starsky?"

"Uh...yeah. How's my partner?" He knew it wasn't really the time to ask. Perhaps it was even a bit selfish, but he had to know.

"I saw him the day before yesterday and a few days ago with Rosie. He seems tired, but he's holding his own."

"Tell him to take a good nap so he can stay awake for the report on how this thing turns out. Hopefully, it's gonna be good." Starsky was glad to hear that Hutch hadn't gotten worse. He still felt guilty for leaving him.

"I'll pass it on. Keep me updated. I'll let you know what kind of backup we'll be sending as soon as we get organized."

"You gonna call or what?" Starsky asked.

"I would have sent Hutchinson, but clearly that's out of the question. I'll have to send someone else. Not sure who, but you'll recognize them. I want you to stick close to the bar, pick up all the extra shifts you can."

"Sure thing, Cap. That all?"

"Yes. You both are doing good work. Keep it up," Dobey instructed before hanging up.

Starsky slept soundly for the first time since he'd been back undercover. The other nights had been too filled with worry and uncertainty about what would happen with the operation. And about Hutch. Especially about Hutch. Just have to make it to Friday night, he thought as he drifted off. I can be back in my own bed Saturday morning. Or next to Hutch's. He really didn't have a preference which it was.

The next morning, Hutch awoke after another fitful night. He'd had the same nightmare again. Poor Jenny. She's probably regretting her career choice since she's been dealing with you. Calming himself down afterward was getting easier, but he still hated that he cried out each time. If I could just stay quiet right before I wake up it would be fine. Then I wouldn't have to bother her and the rest of the floor. He groaned and tried to roll over. The stabbing pain in his side made him reconsider doing so. He forced one eye open and glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Breakfast should be here anytime, he thought as he let out a big yawn and arched his back in an attempt to stretch. It hurt his ribs and his side, but it did help with some of the stiffness. He yawned again and frowned. His throat felt dry. He struggled until he got himself into a sitting position. The movement was too much for his tender side to take. He was sick of feeling blood almost constantly dripping down his skin. Why can't the thing just scab up and heal?

Breakfast was brought to him by the same older nurse. He had learned that her name was Ruth.

"Here you go, honey. How are we this morning?" she asked.

"Tired. I think my side's bleeding again," he informed her. They were beginning to fall into a morning routine. Ruth would bring breakfast, patch up his side and open his milk. Then she would leave him to eat his meal, or more accurately, his eggs. Nothing else on the plate ever tempted him.

"Sorry to hear it. Mind if I take a look?" she asked.

"Go ahead."

"Oh, sweetheart, what did you do this time?" she asked as she surveyed the damage and grabbed some gauze from the counter.

"I moved around too much last night I guess. I also sat up on my own this morning. I think that's what really did it," he speculated.

"Well stop doing that and maybe you can avoid getting bandaged up before breakfast, okay? Let somebody help you if you want to sit up," she instructed as she finished with his side. "There you go. Now enjoy your meal."

"Thanks."

"Need me to open your milk?" she asked.

"Uh...no thanks. I think I can get it today." Her question had caught him off guard. He knew she meant well, but it was almost offensive somehow. Every other time, he had asked her to open his milk. Her asking made it feel different. Like independence was something she thought him incapable of. He knew deep down that it didn't really matter who opened his milk. Logically, it was entirely inconsequential, but it felt important that he do it himself from now on.

Maybe I think it's some sort of first step to being self-sufficient enough to get out of here, he mused. Maybe I resent having things done for me? No, I don't, not really... How many times have I let Starsky finish up something at work? How many countless things did I let Van do for me when we were together? I don't remember resenting my mother when she took care of me as a kid... If it's not letting others do things for me, then maybe it's the why they're doing it. If they're doing it because they love me, or so I don't have to, or because it's easier for them, then that's okay. It only bothers me if they do it because I can't. I value independence, I guess. Or, perhaps it all comes back to my own inadequacy…He contemplated this as he examined the milk carton. So maybe I figured that out, but I still have one immediate issue...How on earth am I gonna open this milk?

Meanwhile, Starsky was killing the morning in front of the TV in his hotel room. Just three more days of this! he thought happily. The end of an undercover operation always excited him. It was scary of course, but he also found it thrilling when everything they had worked so meticulously on for so long finally came together. It always gave him a new appreciation for his normal routine once he got back to it as well. Normal is gonna take some time to get back to with Hutch out of the game, he thought sadly as he flipped through the channels. I wonder what he's doing...Sleeping? Chatting with Huggy? Flirting with the nurse? I wonder if he ever called his ma? Probably should have called her before I left…Boy, I'm hungry!

He turned off the TV and went out in search of a mid-morning snack. He found himself at the same gas station as always. He bought what Hutch would consider insulting to label as food and thoroughly enjoyed eating it while sitting on a bench outside. It was a beautiful day with perfect weather. Why couldn't it have been like this when Hutch had to ride out here? Then he wouldn't have gotten hurt- or as hurt. At least Chandler's still breathing because of him. He's the only reason this thing has a chance at working. And the only reason we're not together at the moment. I bet ya planned it that way, huh Blondie? Didn't want me "mother henning" or whatever. Got yourself all messed up so you could look like a hero, make me do all the paperwork, and get a vacation. I see how it is. We're gonna talk about this when I get back, buddy. Just three more days.

Hutch eventually managed to open his milk. The best method he could come up with was stabbing the side with a butter knife and drinking it through the hole. It was far from the most neat or efficient solution, but it was effective. He was proud of himself for doing something on his own, even if it was small. He started a mental list of the things he could do independently. Open milk. Kinda. Use the bedpan with a fifty percent success rate. Eat eggs. He frowned, unable to think of anything else. Wish I could add sit up without ripping my side open, but today is not the day. He decided that he must add at least one thing a day from now on. That would give him a task, a purpose for each day. Today, it was milk. Tomorrow, it might be eating more than just the eggs. As he ate today's eggs, he found them hard to swallow. They tasted worse than yesterdays. Not to mention his throat still hurt, even after drinking his milk and a glass of water. Hope it's just that I slept with my mouth open or something, he thought as Huggy came into the room, not bothering to knock.

"How's the invalid life treating you, my friend?" Huggy inquired as he deposited a bag onto Hutch's tray.

"It's a real bully I'm afraid. What's in the bag?" Hutch was grateful for the visit. He had been dreading another long morning of staring at the ceiling.

"It's a Huggy Bear's first. A new menu item in its prototype form, a homemade French toast bagel. Starsky informed me that the bread situation around here was tragically lacking in anything edible. And seeing as I'm considering incorporating a breakfast menu, I figured you'd make a good guinea pig." Huggy pulled out his creation, as well as a plate to set it on and a cloth napkin. Hutch chuckled at the attention to detail. "What? You think I'd let this art be served on a plastic, heartless, hospital tray? It'd be like framing the Mona Lisa in a discount store frame!" Huggy shook his head and proceeded to unload a variety of condiments from the bag as well.

"What did you do, bring your whole kitchen?" Hutch mumbled. Huggy frowned.

"No, but I wanted you to have the entire Huggy Bear's breakfast bar experience," Huggy explained, adding a knife to the place setting and stepping back to admire his work.

"Well it gets an A for presentation," Hutch commented. It did look far more appetizing than anything he'd seen since his admittance. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything besides eggs.

"You gonna grade it on anything else, or just look at it?"

"I will if you fix it up for me. I'm a bit limited here," he explained, gesturing to his broken arm.

"Sure thing. What combo are ya digging? Cream cheese, peanut butter, grape jelly, honey or something else from the delicious array I have procured for your tasting pleasure?"

"Honey." How long has he spent on this bagel project?

"So, what do you do for entertainment around here?" Huggy asked as he prepared the bagel.

"Entertainment? Let me think...I stare at the wall. Then, I stare at the ceiling. Sometimes I watch the IV drip or look at the rosebush and Rosie's card over by the window. Oh, and occasionally, I am graced with the presence of Bay City's blossoming breakfast chef."

"Bay City's blossoming breakfast chef. I dig that, amigo!" Huggy chuckled, "I may use that in the article."

"Article?" A look of confusion crossed Hutch's face.

"The restaurant review section in the paper," Huggy answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I thought someone besides the proprietor of the establishment being reviewed usually wrote those?"

"Not if you know the right people," Huggy replied, winking. Hutch laughed, immediately regretted it, and groaned.

"Stupid ribs," he grumbled.

"Try the bagel. It's rumored to cure anything. Bad moods, broken ribs, insanity, you name it!"

"You going to add that to the review too?" Hutch asked, taking a small bite.

"I might. What do you think?"

"It seems a bit arrogant. Especially if you don't want folks to know you wrote it yourse-"

"No, the bagel! How is the bagel?!" Huggy demanded. Hutch took another small bite and chewed for a long time before answering.

"It's good. I like the flavor the cinnamon adds. It's far superior to anything they serve in here. You should make Starsky try it." He set the rest of it back on the plate and sighed.

"Not hungry?" Huggy studied Hutch's face and wondered what was wrong.

"Doesn't take much energy to just lay here. I'd finish it if I hadn't had eggs and milk less than an hour ago."

"Suit yourself. Heard from Starsky?"

"Nope."

"I think he might be back sooner than we thought," Huggy speculated.

"Why do you say that?"

"I hear old Greg's customers are getting antsy for some new stuff. He's gonna have to get some more in stock to keep em' happy."

"What makes you so sure he'll buy from Gonzalez?"

"Who else? The fuzz nailed his main competition last week, remember? You and Starsky were at my place when it was on the radio."

"Uh...Oh, yeah. I remember," Hutch replied. When was that? I don't remember going to Huggy's last week. Did I lose my memory of that too?

"Aren't you cops supposed to be more on top of these things?"

"I'm off duty, Hug. Off the roster and out of the loop." I wasn't off duty last week. I should have known that.

"That's too bad. Any idea when you're going to get to leave?"

"They haven't told me anything. The way I feel, probably never."

"Sorry to hear it my man. Hope to see you back in action soon. I gotta split, but I'll see you and that partner of yours around. Enjoy the bagel." Huggy gathered everything he had brought and left the room.

"Thanks, Huggy," Hutch called after him. Why can't I remember being at Huggy's? What's wrong with me? It's been days. It should come back, right? It has to. What else did I lose? H-U-T-C… He let out an angry sigh, picked up the empty milk carton and threw it across the room. It hit the rim of the trash can and bounced off, skittering under a chair. Great! I can't even throw things right anymore! He flopped back against the pillows carelessly, reopening the wounds on his side again. He cursed under his breath and groaned. This day just gets better and better doesn't it? What else can go wrong? He got his answer in the form of a migraine that wouldn't go away.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally Friday and Starsky was a ball of energy. He woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. He eventually gave up and got dressed. He didn't have to do anything until tonight. He had the night off from work at the bar so he wouldn't be missed when it was time for the buy to go down.

The plan had come from headquarters the day after his phone call to Dobey via another undercover officer disguised as a mailman. He had given Starsky an envelope containing a map of the location, the number of officers they would have as backup, as well as the rendezvous point he would meet up with them at beforehand. He had passed the information along to Chandler in the form of an inaccurate bar tab receipt.

Chandler would be going to the buy. It would look too suspicious if he backed out this time, and they couldn't risk Gonzalez suspecting this was a setup. If Gregory recognized him immediately, then Starsky and the others would go in then. If not, they could get even more evidence. They had plenty already, but the department wanted this case to be as rock-solid as possible. Starsky didn't like that Chandler was basically a sitting duck in this plan, but there was no other way. At least he'll have a gun, Starsky thought. Maybe Gregory won't recognize him, at least not right away. After all, it has been years, and Chandler does look a bit different now. He vowed he would do everything in his power to keep the other man safe. His family deserves to have him back in one piece. And Hutch didn't suffer, just to let me throw Chandler to the wolves. I gotta be at the top of my game until this thing's over. Then we can all just relax for a while. Or so he thought...