Disclaimers: They don't belong to me. Well, I'll keep Tracy and her family, but Starsky & Hutch, as well as Dobey, belong to Spelling/Goldberg productions, David Soul, Paul Michael Glaser, and Bernie Hamilton.

Thanks to Sue David for checking it out and teaching me about 'tracking' as well as to Mary Kleinsmith for giving it a look and offering her advice.

Waiting in Line

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

I love lines.

Okay, I know that sounds a little crazy, but what can I say? It's the truth; I love lines. I mean, I know some people think they're just a big waste of time, but I try to look at it on the bright side, ya know? I mean, when else would I have the time to make the acquaintance of a pretty girl like the one standing in line ahead of me?

Okay, so the kid is pregnant, looks about sixteen, and like she's gonna deliver any second. I figure she's gotta be unmarried 'cause I don't see no wedding ring. She's a little bit of a thing but I'd say from the looks of her she's about eight or nine months pregnant. Poor kid can hardly stand up straight, but she seems to be a real trooper.

She turns around and smiles real pretty; all the talk about women getting this glow about them when they're pregnant sure holds true for this one. Anyway, I look at her and smile back, which, I guess, gives her some unwritten permission to say hi to me.

"Hi," I say back to her.

"Is it my imagination, or have I gained another pound waiting in this line?" she asks with a laugh.

She's got a sense of humor, this one. I chuckle and tell her, "You look great."

She blushes a bit, real cute like. Then she says, "Well, I certainly hope my husband thinks so."

Now I blush. Would never have guessed she was married, what with the missing ring and all, much less old enough to be married.

"But I guess he must, since he's the one home with our sick two year old."

Now I'm about ready to choke...two-year-old? "You're kidding," I blurt out.

"Yep, and the five-year-old is at school," she adds with a wry smile.

"How old are you?" I ask, but then immediately clamp my hand over my mouth. I realize that's just not the kind of question ya ask a lady, only I realize it about one question too late. "Sorry," I apologize, "it's none of my business."

"No," she says smiling, "it's okay. I suppose when I'm eighty years old I'll be very grateful, but at the moment my youthful appearance does tend to cause some incredulous reactions." I just nod, and she continues. "I'm twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven?" I echo with astonishment.

"Yep, twenty-seven. And I have my Masters Degree in Business, too," she adds proudly. "That's why I'm here at the bank, waiting in a line that is way too long, making a payroll deposit for my husband's and my new business."

"Wow, twenty-seven, beautiful, smart," I murmur, and then add sadly, "and married with kids. Boy, how come all the good ones are taken?" I ask with a grin.

She grins right back at me; I like this girl. She's got spunk.

We chat a little longer, and I listen to her as she describes the mail order business she and her husband started last year. She's animated and obviously very proud of the business, so I let her go on and on.

I can't help but remember that when I was a kid, my ma used to do this while she stood in lines, like at the supermarket. Man, I remember dreading walking over to Waldbaum's Supermarket, schlepping that damned shopping wagon. I knew Ma would start talking with everyone in the store, and we'd never get out of there.

Of course, it was always worse when we were waiting on the line to check out. Before my dad died, and when Nicky was little, Ma would go shopping on Saturday night. She'd fill up two shopping carts. Ma would then go and start talking with the people in line, complaining about how much 'all her boys' ate. She always called my dad one of 'her boys.' Anyway, she'd start talking and sharing all this personal stuff with these complete strangers, and it would drive me crazy.

I gotta wonder if Tracy, (that's her name, Tracy) drives her five-year-old crazy like Ma used to drive me crazy. I figure the two year old is too young and don't know no better, but the older kid probably gets embarrassed like I used to when I was his age. Then I think that, no, maybe she's just talking to pass the time in this bank.

It really is taking a long time for the line to move. Dang, even I'm starting to get a little antsy. I figure that at this point Hutch is ready to have cow. Man, is he gonna be P.O.'d with me, or what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claymore Avenue

I HATE lines!

I told Starsky he was nuts for trying to go cash a check at noon on a Friday afternoon, but when that lunatic gets an idea in his head, there is no way he's going to let go of it. Damn! What is taking him so long?

I mean, sure, I'd reminded him it was his turn to pick up the lunch tab, and sure, he was more than amicable about it. The only thing was he was a little short on cash and said he needed to make a stop at the bank to withdraw some money, or we'd be doing dishes in lieu of payment.

Of course I quickly reminded him since it was supposed to be his treat today, he'd be the one doing the dishes while I sat at the table licking my fingers. He rolled his eyes at that and told me to stop at the bank; he'd only be a few minutes.

Aw, c'mon, Starsky, get your butt out here already! The thing of it all is, I know he's not nearly as aggravated about this as I am. Oh, he may be worried about my blood pressure hitting the roof, but I know he's not bothered by having to wait in a lunch time rush on the bank.

My partner can make do with any situation. In fact, he's probably holding court right now. He's probably got the whole bank in stitches over some incident, which most likely includes me, and the laughter is probably at my expense. I know this is more than possible; I've seen him do it when he wasn't aware that I was around.

Once he went into this whole routine about the time we had to deal with some professional wrestlers (if you could even call them that). Anyway, he seemed to get some particular glee from expounding on how I had to wrestle some guy who was about four times my size... and how I was slightly bested by the guy (and he said that with the biggest smirk on his face). Of course, does he mention anything about the seven foot tall lady (and I say that with tongue planted firmly in cheek) wrestler that developed a crush on him? No, of course he doesn't. And all this happened while he was waiting in line at the movies while I went to park the car.

Have I mentioned how much I hate lines?

C'mon, Starsky, I'm getting hungry and I would really like to eat sometime this week. I am more than ready to march right into this bank and pull my partner out by his curly brown hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

Well, even I'm ready for this damn line to move. I mean, Tracy is very nice and all, but if this line don't move soon, we're gonna be deliverin' her third child right here.

I can tell Tracy's tiring too. She's shifting from one foot to the other a lot...oh, wait, that probably means she's gotta go to...Okay, Starsky, don't go there.

"David, have we moved at all in the last ten minutes?" she asks.

I think about it for a moment and I realize that we haven't. "Nope," I say aloud and begin to look around. Suddenly my gut starts to get tight, and I go into cop mode. Something's wrong, but I'll be damned if I can pinpoint what it is. All I know is, it suddenly got real quiet in here, and the tellers ain't moving a muscle. In fact no one's moving behind the tellers' stations. Everyone is standing stock still, everyone except...shit!

"Get down! Everyone get down!"

Who the hell is this asshole? Where the hell did he come from? Everyone starts talkin' and screamin' at once, but no one gets down. They're all frozen in their place.

"I said get down, damn it!" he screams again and then to punctuate the demand he fires off a Smith and Wesson he's been waving around. That does the trick; everyone falls quickly to the floor, with the exception of Tracy, who at this stage in her pregnancy isn't able to do much of anything quickly.

"Don't you listen, bitch? I said get down!" he screams right at Tracy. For the first time I notice just how pale she's become, and I'm afraid she's gonna faint. I reach over to help her, but the gun-toting idiot fires another shot right at us. "I didn't say nothing 'bout you moving, did I?" he yells. "Get down, both of you!"

"For crying out loud, Mister, she's pregnant. I just wanna help her get down on the floor," I say not too timidly. I want nothing more than to inform this fool that I'm a cop, and that my partner is waiting right outside and has probably called out the National Guard after hearing him fire the gun not once, but twice. It would do my heart real good to lay it on thick and tell this shmuck that the SWAT teams have probably already surrounded the place.

But I keep quiet. I figure if he finds out I'm a cop, he'll either kill me or use me, and I don't want that to happen until the time is right, and I can use it to my advantage. But what I wouldn't give to be able to get word to Hutch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Part 1/5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting in Line

Disclaimers in part 1

Part 2/5

Claymore Avenue

Damn it, Starsky! What the hell did you get yourself into now? That was definitely a gunshot!

I reach into the car and stretch the mic cord as far as I can. "Zebra three calling Dispatch, come in," I say, trying hard to keep the frantic tone out of my voice. I drum my fingers nervously on the car roof while speaking, "Come in, Dispatch." I inform them there's a suspected armed robbery going on at the Claymore Avenue branch of Citizen's Bank and that my partner is on the inside. I tell them to come in without sirens, since we don't want to tip off any of the bad guys that we're on to them.

I just hope my partner's using the same line of thinking. Sometimes Starsky, in his instinctual desire to help people, forgets himself and just jumps in feet first and uses his head second. I just hope he remembers to think this out. He's better off keeping his anonymity until backup gets here. I know Starsky realizes that in his head. I just hope no one gets under his skin and causes his heart to do somersaults enough for him to do something stupid.

I want to do something, so I start evacuating the area. I start yelling at some poor elderly woman as she's about to enter the bank, but quickly get hold of myself and explain there's some kind of emergency going on and she's not allowed in. Oh, and then I remember to show her my badge, which gives me some legitimacy in her eyes and she moves on.

Finally, I see some black and whites arriving and then I see the Captain's sedan pull up in front of my own.

"What's going on Hutchinson?" he asks.

"Starsky's in there," are my first words. Not exactly what Captain Dobey wants to hear but certainly not unexpected. Cap knows Starsky and I are closer than brothers and he also knows there's nothing I want more than to go in there and drag my partner out to safety.

I give the cap whatever information I have, which unfortunately isn't much, such as how long Starsky's been in there and about what time I heard the first and second gunshots. At this point I see the SWAT teams are getting into place, and I catch a glimpse of Darren Murphy, a hostage negotiator for the department. He's got a good reputation, but I've never worked with him.

Suddenly I jump at the sound of a third gunshot.

Damn. Murphy'd better be good; my partner's life may depend upon it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

I raise my hand to reach over for Tracy's arm and the sonofabitch raises his gun and shoots at us before I even half realize it. Oh, God, he hit Tracy!

"What did you do?" I scream out. I work hard to regain some composure so I can assess Tracy's condition. It nicked her arm and don't look too bad, thank God, but it's still bleeding like a bitch. "She needs a doctor," I announce.

"Yeah, well, I need about a million bucks and a getaway car," the idiot responds. "Now, shuddup."

"Look," I say in my most reasonable tone of voice, "she's pregnant, and she needs to see a doctor. Ya want her to give birth right in here?"

"You her husband?" he asks.

"Yes," answers Tracy before I can say a word. I'm not sure why she says this; I assume she thinks this will help me. I don't know, maybe it will, maybe it won't.

I do figure that Hutch must have called out the cavalry by now; he must also be ready for a tranquilizer at this point. Poor Hutch. If there's one thing I know about my partner, it's that he's ready to jump out of his skin wondering what the hell is going on in here. Hutch tends to be a little overprotective of me when it comes to my health and well being. Of course, the fact that the feeling is mutual don't have nothing to with it.

Hutch is like the best partner in the world, ya know? But the man likes to maintain control of a situation and when he can't, it drives him nuts. I'm sure he's feeling about ready for a straight jacket at the moment; I know I am. Jeez, Hutch, I'm ready for you to play hero and get us the hell out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claymore Avenue

"What do you mean we just have to sit tight and wait?" I ask in exasperation. "Why the hell aren't you on the bullhorn and doing what you get paid to do: negotiating?"

"Listen, Detective, I know you're a little concerned_," Murphy begins, but I cut him off at the quick.

"Concerned does not even begin to describe it, Murphy!" I shout at him, practically in his face. I know this is not the best way to win friends and influence people, but doesn't this asshole understand? My partner's in there.

"Hutch, calm down," says the captain in a tone he reserves only for special times.

I hate those special times.

"Cap, when the hell is someone gonna do something about this?" I know my frustration is coming through loud and clear, but I can't remember when I’ve felt this helpless. It's bad enough that my partner's inside a building with at least one nut that had no problem shooting off a gun; what's worse is that I'm helpless to act as a proper backup for him.

"We're waiting for some information about the inside, Hutchinson," Murphy informs me. Information? Like what? As if reading my mind, Murphy continues, "For one, we're waiting for the head teller that was off today to come down and give us phone numbers. We can't make contact with the perpetrator until we have a telephone number that he'll have easy access to, right? Be patient, Detective, we're doing everything we can, as quickly as we can."

I nod in acknowledgment, but I don't really buy it. I want more than just assurances; I want action. Now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

Tracy's arm is bleeding a lot, and she's getting real pale. I know it wouldn't normally be considered a serious injury; it's just a flesh wound, and if she could be treated for it right away, then I know there'd be nothing to worry about. But the thing of it is, she's not getting immediate care for it, and I'm becoming more and more afraid for her and the baby.

"Hey, Mister?" I call out softly. I don't wanna see any more bullets whizzing past me and into Tracy. The jerk looks up at me and kind of cocks his head as if to ask, 'What?' "She's still bleeding pretty bad," I say evenly. "Can't we let her go to get it taken care of? I'll stay here with you, but please, can't you let her go?"

"Aw, gee, aren't we the tender, loving husband? You're breaking my heart."

"C'mon, Mister? You don't wanna be responsible for_, for my wife_, to lose the baby, do you?" I ask. Tracy's really looking pretty lousy at the moment, and I really am starting to get scared for her. What's worse is I think she's getting really scared too.

"Look, just be quiet. Somebody_, you_," he says pointing to one of the tellers behind the counter, "you go get something to bandage her arm. Don't do nothing stupid, or I'll start shooting your buddies back here, okay Missy Teller Lady?" I watch her scurry through a door, which I presume, leads to the Ladies' room.

"Hey, kiddo, it's gonna be okay, you'll see," I say to Tracy in some small effort to comfort her. She nods slightly at me, but then I see something that really makes me worry. She grimaces.

"Tracy? You okay, honey?" I ask gently. She then confirms my fears and shakes her head slightly. "You feeling contractions?" I ask softly. This time she nods. Oh, shit.

"Hey, Mister, I really need to get my wife the hell out of here. She's going into labor. Please, let her go," I implore.

The teller returns from the back room with a wet towel and a couple of clean dry ones. She lays them down at my side and gives me one beseeching glance and then moves away back to her station.

"Oh, God. David?" Tracy begins to moan; the contractions are coming faster, and I don't know how to convince this bastard that I need to get this woman out of here. Now.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't you worry, we're gonna take care of you and the baby. I promise." She looks at me as panic sets in when the next contraction begins less than ten minutes later. "I promise," I repeat with as much conviction as I can muster.

Now, if only I believed me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Part 2/5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting in Line

Disclaimers in part 1

Part 3/5

Claymore Avenue

"Thanks, Mr. Cabot. This is going to help a great deal," says Murphy.

"What's going to help?" I ask as I return from a meeting with Captain Dobey and the SWAT coordinator.

"We got a phone number, plus a better idea of what the area inside looks like. Mr. Cabot was able to tell us exactly where the phone that this number is attached to is located and what surrounds that immediate area."

I nod; this will be helpful, I'm sure. However, I'm still getting anxious. The SWAT team is ready to mobilize as soon as they're given the word. It makes me a little nervous, since I know the SWAT team will go in full force to bring the perp down. Unfortunately, I don't know if they'll be extra vigilant in avoiding innocent bystanders, of which my partner is one.

"So, when do you call?" I ask anxiously.

"Now. I call right now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

We all jump at the sound of the ringing phone.

"What the hell?" cries out the perp. He looks around frantically as he tries to place the exact source of the sound.

"It's the one on the front desk," tentatively offers the teller who'd gotten me the clean towels.

The perp walks over to the desk and stares at the phone. C'mon, ya dumb jerk, pick it up. Pick up the damn phone and let's end this thing right now. Tracy's grimacing a whole lot more frequently, and I do not want to have to deliver a baby. Cops delivering babies is strictly movie folklore; I ain't never birthed no babies, and I don't plan on starting anytime soon. At least I hope not.

Finally, El Jerko picks up the phone. I do notice his hand is shaking slightly, and I hear him say hello in a tremulous voice.

"Yeah? Who's this?" he asks brusquely. I don't know what the person on the other end is saying, but I gotta figure it's not somebody's wife asking him to remember to bring home some milk. He's shaking his head a lot, so he can't be hearing anything that he particularly wants to hear.

"No, no, _you_ listen to me, man. I want a car and safe haven to the Mexican border, you hear? I don't want no more trouble, and I don't want to hurt nobody else, but I do intend to get out of here in one piece."

I watch him listen attentively to what's being said on the other end, but he don't look too happy.

"I don't gotta give up nobody, you hear me?" he yells into the phone. "I'm the one who holds all the aces, and don't you forget it!" Then he slams the receiver down hard.

This don't look too good, and neither does Tracy.

Partner, I hope you were one of the guys listening on the other end of that phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claymore Avenue

"What? What did he say?" I ask for what seems like the tenth time, but I can't get anyone to give me a straight answer.

"Look, Hutchinson, just calm down, okay? The guy won't give up any of the hostages. He wants a car and a clear path to Mexico. That's all we know," says Murphy.

"Did he speak with anyone else?" I ask.

"No. No one."

"Then he's probably on his own. If he had someone else on the inside with him, then you'd probably have heard him confer with that person; at the very least you would have heard some voices in the background."

"Makes sense, Murphy," Captain Dobey concurs, and I see Murphy nod as well.

"Yeah, that would make things easier for us," Murphy says. "I'll give him a few minutes to cool off, and then I'll call him back. He needs to stew a little bit, and then we can counter offer again."

I can only nod my head, but I just want to throttle him. Call him back now, is what I want to say back to him, but I keep my mouth shut. Rationally, I know this guy has a lot of experience in hostage negotiations, but it doesn't make the waiting any easier. I try to remember to be professional about this, but all I can think is that I'm standing around here doing basically nothing to help my partner.

I wish to hell I knew what was going on in there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

"Listen, uh, I can't keep calling you 'Mister,' can I?" I say, desperate to get this guy talking. Tracy's looking lousy. She's losing blood and the contractions are coming just a little over five minutes apart.

"Why not?" he replies.

"C'mon, give me a break. My name's David, what's yours?"

He looks like he's at least thinking about it. C'mon, give me a name so I can start getting into your space a bit. C'mon...please.

"Aubrey."

Aubrey? What the hell kind of name is that? Jeez, no wonder the guy's screwed up. What kind of a mother names her son 'Aubrey?' Well, here goes nothing.

"Hey, well that's better. Aubrey. Good. Listen, Aubrey, no one's seriously hurt yet. How's about you let Tracy out of here. She's still bleeding, and she's having contractions. Please, she's scared and you don't want nothing to happen to the baby, do you?"

Once again, he looks like he's thinking a bit, but then he turns away from us. I'm not sure what's going on in his head at the moment, but at least he's not refusing me outright. That's encouraging, I think.

I hope.

The phone rings again at this moment, and I watch Aubrey pick it up hesitantly. "Yeah?" he asks. He listens for a couple of minutes and then I hear Aubrey say, "I don't want no one else to get hurt; I just want to get the hell out of here. Look, we got a woman in here who's hurt a little; plus, she's pregnant. Her husband thinks she's in labor. I don't want no baby born in here, so if you get me a car, I'll send the woman out."

This is good! This is real good! Oh, whoever the hell you are on the other end, you better agree. You bet your ass you'd better agree. "Hey, Tracy," I whisper, "Did you hear that? We may be getting you and Junior out of here in just a little bit!" I say excitedly, but Tracy's looking a little pale and damn if she doesn't seem to be going into shock. Oh, man, c'mon! Make a decision, guys, and let Aubrey have his damn car so we can get out of here.

Then blow out his damn tires.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claymore Avenue

"Well, of course you're going to give him the car!" I say with frustration. "How can you even _consider_ not giving him the car?"

"Hutchinson, what the hell did they teach you in the academy?" asks Murphy with a bit of ire. "You don't negotiate with a terrorist, and that's what this guy is. He's nothing more than a terrorist."

"But this terrorist has taken innocent people as hostage, and did I mention that one of those people is my partner?" I say with my voice escalating to new heights of disgust and anger.

"Do you think I don't know that? C'mon, Detective, get a grip. We have to do what's beneficial for all of the hostages, yes, but we also have to consider how our actions will impact the future," counters Murphy.

This is not what I want to hear, and I let Murphy and apparently everyone within a three-mile radius, know it. "I don't give a damn about how the future's impacted, I care about getting my partner and those other people out now!"

"Hutchinson, go get some coffee. Move!" orders my captain. I want to contradict the order, but as soon as I make eye contact with Dobey, I realize I'd better keep my mouth shut if I want to remain on the site.

It kills me, but I nod and ask Cap if he wants a cup. I even ask Murphy if he wants some. Both men indicate they could use a refill, and I walk off toward the coffee wagon that's parked itself on the corner north of the bank.

I wonder how much longer I'm going to be able to hold it together; more importantly, I wonder if my partner is having as tough of a time keeping his anger in check. For his sake, I hope not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

Okay, so Aubrey is not getting exactly what he wants, and he's not shooting anyone. But he's pacing like crazy, which means that he's getting himself all agitated again, so who knows how long he's gonna keep from going off the deep end.

I'm biting my tongue, 'cause as much as I want to ask him again to let Tracy go I don't wanna give the man any more reason to become angry. I figure I've got to wait him out, and hopefully he'll show a humane side and let her get medical attention.

"You! Get your wife up and go stand by the door," he orders.

I don't hesitate and stand up immediately before the S.O.B. changes his mind. Tracy, on the other hand, is another story. She needs all of my help to get up off the floor, plus she needs my full support once I get her actually standing. "C'mon, Tracy, let's get you over to the door, sweetheart," I say, hopefully reassuring her.

"Shuddup!"

I immediately close my mouth. We walk slowly over toward the door, and once we actually reach the double glass doors, I lean against them and then have Tracy lean back against me. She's hurting, both physically and emotionally, and I try to do what I can to make it less so.

"Okay, now, I'm gonna wait for that guy to call back and then we're gonna make a deal. If he don't give me my car and safe passage to Mexico, I start shooting. Ya understand?" he asks with an air of casualness that makes me more nervous than before.

Tracy and I stand at the doors for about five minutes more before the phone finally rings. I'm literally holding her up against me and start to feel a bit of the strain.

I can't help but wonder if Hutch can see us. I hope so, Blondie. I really need to believe you're seeing everything that's going down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of 3/5

Waiting in Line

Disclaimers in Part 1

Part 4/5

Claymore Avenue

"Do you see them?" I ask excitedly. "Do you? Do you?" I know I must look like a ten-year-old at Christmas time, but I can't help it. I see Starsky, and I can see he's okay. I'm not so sure about the girl that's with him. I can't even tell how old she is, but she's short, that I do know. I see that her head reaches about to his chest, so I suppose she's yet another kid that Starsk has taken under his wing.

"Yes, I see them," answers Murphy. "I'm just about ready to place the call," he says and then looks at the coffee cup in my hand and asks, "Is that for me?"

I nod, but I wait for him to dial the number before I give him the cup. Yeah, I know it's childish, but I don't want him distracted by anything. I want my partner out of there right now.

I've got a bad feeling about how this is going to go down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

When the phone rings, I see Aubrey take a real deep breath. I got a feeling we both realize it's do or die time, only I hope the dying don't have nothing to do with me or Tracy.

"Yeah." I listen to the silence as Aubrey listens to what the voice on the other end of the line has to say. Then I hear something else.

"Oh, God, David," moans Tracy. "It's too soon. It's too soon," she cries out.

"Shh, sweetheart, you're gonna be okay. Hang in with me for a little longer. You'll see, everything is gonna be fine." I hope the tone of my voice belies how I really feel.

"It's parked right outside?" Aubrey asks. I see the man nodding now. Okay, this may go down okay. "They're gonna be right in front of me the whole time. I'm gonna have a gun to his back, you hear me? And if I shoot him, then she'll get it too, and so will the kid, so don't screw with me. You hear me? Don't screw with me!"

Oh, God, Hutch, do ya hear him? Don't let 'em screw with the bastard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claymore Avenue

"We've got the sharpshooters in position from the rooftops both on top of the bank and across the street," says Danny Petrocelli, the SWAT team coordinator.

"You can't let your guys start shooting. Starsky's walking out with that kid and he said he's gonna have a gun to his back. You gotta let the guy go," I implore. I don't understand why these assholes are considering anything else. I mean, it stands to reason they don't want a sicko like this riding around the city streets and freeways, toting a loaded weapon, but still, they can't take the chance of hitting innocent bystanders, can they?

They wouldn't take the chance of getting my partner killed just to get another nutcase off the street, would they?

"Cap! You can't let them do this!" I shout out in realization that it's more than just possible, it's likely.

"Hutchinson, calm down. These guys are professionals and know what they're doing," reassures Dobey, but I don't think he believes his own words either.

"The guy said he's going to have the man and woman walk out directly in front of him. If your partner can somehow manage to get the woman down so we can get a clear shot of the perp, then there won't be a problem. The sharpshooters aren't going to shoot unless there's a clear shot, Detective. We're not out to take down any innocent bystanders, even if he is a cop," offers Petrocelli.

Murphy nods in agreement and adds, "Look, the guy is being fairly reasonable, given what we know about hostage takers. So, keep calm and have some faith your fellow officers know as much about their job as you know about yours, okay?"

I take my dressing down in silence and wait with everyone else for the glass doors to open. Okay, Starsky, it's show time. Do what you do best, and I'll be right out here ready to back you up in anyway I can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue Branch

"Okay, Mister, let's get the little missus and you the hell out of here." I see Aubrey turn and face the dozens of bank employees and customers who remain silently seated on the floor and against the wall. "Well, folks, it's been a real slice of heaven! Hope we don't ever do this again sometime, and think of me as I enjoy my shots of tequila down in sunny Mexico!"

He then comes up right into our faces and pushes the gun into my side. Good. At least he doesn't try to hurt Tracy anymore than he already has.

"Turn around," he says and nudges me hard with the gun. I do as he asks, all the while holding onto Tracy. "Okay, Papa," he says with a real nasty laugh, "Let's get this show on the road. I got me some drinking to do." I pull open the door, at the same time I feel the gun pushed hard into the small of my back.

"Walk," he says gruffly to the back of my head.

"You okay, Tracy?" I whisper into her ear. I feel her head nod imperceptibly, but then I hear a soft whimper as well. "Hang in there, sweetheart, we're almost home free."

We're walking, the three of us, as one. For each step I take, I can feel Tracy take one in front of me, while Aubrey takes one in back of me. I feel like we're doing a Marx Brothers routine, and if I weren't so damned scared for Tracy and the baby, I might start laughing out loud. Somehow, I don't think Aubrey would appreciate the humor in the situation.

I look over Tracy's head, which ain't too hard to do since she's so short, and search for my partner. I know he's out there, close by, 'cause I can feel it. People have always wondered why we make such a successful team, and as many times as we've tried to explain it, they just don't get it. To be honest, I don't always understand it either, but I've also learned never to question it. We both just accept it; we sense each other's whereabouts and needs and that's what makes us such a great team.

Like right now I can feel him looking directly at me. I turn my head slightly and find his gaze. I know, partner, I know. I try to let him know that I'm gonna dive the first chance I get with my little lady here so the sharpshooters, whose presence I can also feel way too easily, have a clear shot at Aubrey.

We're walking so slowly that it feels as if time is standing still. I wouldn't mind a little fast forward action just so I can see how the hell this all turns out, ya know?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

View of the Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue

I catch his eyes and I can tell Starsky knows exactly what's going down. I'm also able to observe the other victim and see she is not only very short but also very pregnant.

And there's blood. I'm embarrassed to say that I'm relieved to see that it's not my partner's blood, but when I realize it's the woman who's been shot, I feel awful. And she doesn't look too well at all. It looks like Starsky is doing more than just holding her; he's holding her up.

I take a quick glance over at Murphy to see if he's observing what I am, and it's apparent to me that he feels like the rest of us, caught between a rock and proverbial hard place. He wants to keep the lines of communication open with the perp, but he doesn't want to startle him either which could result in him shooting his gun reflexively.

Then I look more carefully at Dan Petrocelli; he's the one I'm most concerned about. As if I could, I try to will him to play it cautious and keep his men in line. Starsky's a professional out there, but the girl isn't, and knowing Starsky, he won't do anything that could put her in harm's way. The problem is I also know my partner wouldn't hesitate to put himself in harm's way if it would guarantee the safety of the girl.

Damned if I know what to do now except wait. We're so close to ending this thing; I just don't want it to end badly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

View from the Citizen's Bank

Claymore Avenue

Tracy's contractions are coming about every three minutes now. I can time them easily by how often I feel her vice-like grip squeeze my arms. "It's okay, Tracy, we're almost out of here."

I can see Aubrey's car. It's a red Dodge Dart, which is the same damn type of car they always get in these situations. I guess it's so it's easy to spot from the sky and ground. It always amazes me that the perps don't realize this, or maybe they're just so relieved to see their getaway car, they don't bother to consider it.

Aubrey must notice the car the same time as I do and says, "That's it, right?"

"I guess so," I respond. Damned if I'm not proud of myself for remembering that I'm a cop, 'cause there'd be no other way I'd know for sure if that were the car. I lean into Tracy and tell her not to worry. The cavalry is here and we're halfway home.

"You guess so, what?" he asks. Now I'm confused, 'cause I don't have a clue as to what he's referrin' to. "You guess so, _what_?" he asks again with emphasis.

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about," I respond a little more loudly than necessary. I gotta feeling this party is gonna get a little more lively, and I want the invited guests to be prepared.

"You knew I was talking about the car, didn't you?" he says.

Okay, so maybe I ain't that clever. I should have just said, 'I dunno.' I've always had twenty-twenty hindsight. Shit. Tracy, sweetheart, I hope I didn't screw this up.

"I dunno what you're talking about, man," I now say. My new mantra's gonna be, 'when in doubt, plead ignorance.'

"You knew! You knew I was talking about the car right away! Damn it, you're one of them, aren't you?" he says more loudly than he probably intends to, but I figure that's okay. The guest of honor should always have the last word.

I lean into Tracy and whisper to her, "On my count, sweetheart. One - two - three!" I start to pull her down, but I lean her to her side, not flat on her belly, because of the baby, you know? So I got her going down to her side and I'm trying to cover her with my body, only that sonofabitch Aubrey won't let go of my arm and he starts to come down with us.

Finally, I hear a shot, or two, or three, and realize Aubrey's lying on top of me as dead weight. All I can think is that it's over and pray that Tracy and her baby are gonna be okay. The adrenaline is finally starting to dissipate and I want nothing more than to get the pressure of Aubrey's weight off of my body; I can't hardly breathe with him on top of me, ya know? I figure that Tracy's not too comfortable with both of our weights on top of her, and that can't be good for the baby.

"Okay, get him off of him!"

Ah, music to my ears, and the composer is none other than my blond blintz of a partner. C'mon, Hutch, get him the hell off of me. I can hardly breathe like this.

I feel them roll Aubrey off of me and then I quickly roll off of Tracy. I'm still struggling to take a deep breath or two, but my first concern is for Tracy and the baby. I try to tell that to anyone who'll listen, but suddenly I find it really difficult to speak. Luckily, there's a couple of paramedics who've taken a cue from Tracy and they realize that she's in labor.

I wonder why I'm still laying on the ground, but when I try to get up, I find that I can't. I try again, but my body refuses to respond. I figure it's just the exhaustion from all the built up tension being released, right? But then a couple of paramedics come over and start looking me over.

"Hey, partner."

Hutch? Hutch, what the hell's going on? They should be helping Tracy; she's gonna have a baby, you know? I think my mouth is moving, but I'm not sure if anything's coming out of it.

"Stay calm, Starsky. Let the EMT's do their job. You're gonna be fine, Partner. You're gonna be just fine, right fellas?" Hutch asks.

"Mercy, this is Squad 17, how do you read?"

"This is Mercy Base, go ahead 17."

"Mercy, we have three victims. The first is a woman, about eighteen__," the paramedic begins.

"__twenty-seven," I interrupt.

"What?"

"Tracy's twenty-seven. She's got a five-year-old and a two-year- old at home with her husband," I manage to explain.

Man, it's really starting to hurt to breathe. What the hell is going on here? "Hutch?" I rasp out.

"Easy, Partner, you're next in line, I promise," he comforts.

Yeah, but that's what got me into this damn fix in the first place, isn't it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Part 4/5

Waiting in Line

Disclaimers in Part 1

Part 5/5

Mercy Hospital

Fifth floor

I open my eyes and try to remember where the hell I am. The walls are painted in that delightfully aesthetic puke green, and it dawns on me that I'm in a hospital bed. I suppose the nasal cannula should be my first clue that I'm injured, but I'll be damned if I can remember how.

I turn my head slightly and see my partner sleeping soundly in the oversized leatherette chair that usually doubles as a porta-potty. Of course, with all the damn tubes and wires hanging off of me, I suspect I won't have to worry about using one of those for a couple of days at least.

I must have been staring at him real loudly, 'cause the next thing I know Hutch is looking straight at me, with a smile about the size of Texas.

"Hey," I rasp.

"Hey to you too," he responds. "How ya feeling?"

I don't answer right away, because I really do have to think about this. I mean, I'm not in any real pain at the moment, but I suspect that's because I'm so doped up on pain killers that I wouldn't be able to tell my left from my right hand without actually looking at them.

"I guess I'm okay, but I don't know why I'm here," I finally admit.

"Do you remember anything?" he asks gently.

Again, I lay still, trying to reach back into the memory banks, when suddenly I do remember something.

"Tracy! The baby?" I respond anxiously.

"Shh, calm down. Both mother and daughter are doing fine," he reassures.

"A daughter? She got herself a daughter?" I ask with a silly grin on my face. "She's got two little boys, ya know. I think she really wanted a girl this time."

"Yeah, she was very happy."

"But it was too early," I say worriedly.

"Yeah, well, she's a bit small, but not so small that she won't be ready to go home in a couple of weeks."

I ask how Tracy is feeling, what with the flesh wound and loss of blood, and Hutch told me she is doing great. She had to have a C-Section, so she is going to have to hang in the hospital for a week or so, but other than that, she is doing fine.

"In fact, Starsky," he adds, "she's already been down here to visit you, but you were pulling the 'sleeping beauty' act."

"She was here?" I ask.

"Yeah, she wanted to ask your opinion about a name for her daughter."

"Oh." I don't know quite how to respond to this, so I say nothing. Besides, I figure she and her husband must have come up with a name for the kid by now.

"Yeah, well, she said she'd stop by later to chat. Her husband wants to meet you, too. So do her boys." He pauses for a moment and then says, "Hard to believe she's twenty-seven. She doesn't look a day over sixteen!"

I begin to chuckle at this, but suddenly pain shoots up through my chest and I reach out for my partner's hand. I need someone to anchor me through this, and Hutch is the only one I know who can do it. As hard as I'm holding onto his hand, that's how gently Hutch is grasping mine. It's several moments before the pain passes and I can finally find my voice again.

"Hutch? What the hell happened?" I pause and try to take a breath, but it ain't easy. "Last thing I remember was pulling Tracy down outside the bank and Aubrey falling on me."

"Yeah, well as soon as you started to pull down Tracy, the sharpshooters started firing away. A couple hit the perp, umm Aubrey, and down you all went."

"Yeah, but why the hell am I hurting so much from a guy falling on top of me?" I ask, thoroughly confused at this point.

"Starsk, the bullet that hit Aubrey in the back went through him and directly into you. It hit your lung and collapsed it," explains Hutch.

I think my jaw dropped open at hearing this, 'cause Hutch got this funny expression on his face. "What's wrong, partner?" he asks.

"But I don't remember getting shot. I mean, I don't remember feeling a thing," I say. "I don't get it."

"Probably had something to do with adrenaline and your anxiety over Tracy," he reasons.

I nod and figure that's as good an explanation as any. "Jeez," I say, "the bullet didn't go through me into Tracy, did it?"

"No, she was lucky that you decided to hog that little piece of metal all for yourself."

"Good," I say in relief. "She was having enough problems."

The door swings open and I hear a sweet voice ask, "Who was having problems?"

"Hey, sweetheart, how ya doing?" I ask Tracy, who is pushed into the room in a wheelchair by a tall, dark, curly-haired man, that looks strikingly familiar.

"I'm doing just fine, David, and now that I'm going to get my girlish figure back, I'm doing even better. How are you feeling?" she asks gently as she reaches for my hand.

"I'm okay, Tracy. How's the baby? I hear ya got yourself a little girl."

"Oh, David, she's beautiful. She looks just like Daniel." I turn my head to look at the man she was obviously referring to as Daniel. She notices this and makes the introductions. "David, this is my husband, Daniel Stein; Daniel, this is my protector, David Starsky."

Daniel extends his hand, and I reach over to accept it in a weak handshake. "I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Starsky."

"David. Call me, David."

He nods, smiles, and then says, "Tracy and I do want to acknowledge your role in saving our family. We talked about it, well, we were wondering what you thought about the name, 'Michelle Davida'? We really do want to honor you in some way, and though we don't usually name our children for people who are living, I think our Rabbi wouldn’t have an objections to this one little break in tradition."

"Besides, Daniel's grandmother was named Miriam, so the Hebrew name would work to perfection," Tracy says with a smile and a wink.

I smile at this. I like a woman who recognizes the benefits of killing two birds with one stone, and besides, it's kind of a heady feeling to have a little baby named after you.

"Thank you," is all I say. I know Tracy understands all that I want her to know.

"When you get out of here, and the baby comes home from the hospital, we want you to come over for dinner, David. You too, Ken. Okay, gentlemen," says Tracy. It was definitely not a question, but more a statement of fact.

I sure as hell wasn't about to argue.

"Sure, we'd love to come," I answer for both of us.

"Yeah, especially since you still owe me a meal," Hutch says.

"What?" I can't believe he's bringing this up now.

"You owe me a meal, Starsky, and I'm not about to let you forget it. As soon as you're back on your feet and at work, you're taking me out for lunch."

"Jeez, ya see what I gotta put up with, Tracy? I'm laying here, in a hospital bed, and all this blond blintz can think about is his stomach! Unbelievable!"

"Damn straight, Partner. Oh, and one more thing. You're gonna put the meal on your credit card, okay? No more waiting in line, please."

What could I say to the man? Well, except maybe, "You got it, Partner. No more lines."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of part 5/5: Waiting in Line