Perfect Storm

Chapter 35 - Because I Had You

When Hank woke the next morning, it was to an empty bed and his brain feeling like it was three sizes too big for his skull. Lifting his head from the pillow, he immediately groaned in pain and slammed his eyes shut in an effort to keep the wave of nausea from washing over him completely. It was then that he realised where he was. The soft sheets beneath his skin smelt like her. The memories of the previous day came back in snippets, like a badly edited movie trailer.

'You be strong, you hear me?'

His palm rested on Al's clammy forehead, his face as white as the sheet beneath him.

"I got this man."

Hank gripped Al's hand tighter in his own, afraid of what might happen if he let him go.

"They're gonna fix you up. You're gonna be okay."

For hours he waited. Pacing. Thinking. Blaming. And then he was gone.

"He didn't make it. I'm very sorry."

His feet carried him to the waiting room on auto-pilot, the expectant faces of his unit all turning towards him. He couldn't formulate the words, instead he simply shook his head. He watched their faces crumble in grief, felt the weight of their pain sit heavily on his shoulders. He took Trudy in his arms, drawing comfort from his old friend but wanting nothing more than to cross the room and hold the woman he loved.

"The guard you paid off...Dietz. He gave you up."

Slowly he pulled the black leather gloves over his hands, pausing occasionally to drop a stiff right fist into Gomez's now bloody face.

"This can go one of two ways. Bad...or really bad."

Despite the crimson stains across his face, Andre Gomez remained steadfast, cold and remorseless. Hank drew a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he let the darkness consume him.

"Carlos DeLeon."

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I don't have a gun."

His hand remained steady, the barrel of his service weapon pointed directly towards DeLeon who had one hand in the air, the other gripping a black duffle bag.

Hank knew it was his fault that Alvin was in jail in the first place but it was this man who had ordered the hit...all because his kid brother decided to take the cowardly way out.

"Alvin Olinsky was my best friend."

DeLeon's whimpered pleas went unheard, the sound dampened by the blood pounding in his ears. God how he wanted to make him pay but that rage was exactly how he ended up here in the first place. Hank was a lot of things but was not a stupid man. Rarely did he make the same mistake twice. Killing DeLeon might make him feel avenged right now, but it would never fill the hole that Al had left in his life.

"Get on your knees."

The next thing he knew he was standing over DeLeon's body, crimson blooming through the grey cashmere.

When the rage had diminished somewhat, he felt numb, his chest empty. He didn't deserve to feel nothing at all. Draining his glass of scotch in three gulps, he pushed away from the bar, purposely knocking his shoulder into the back of the guy who was stood with a group of buddies, the beer in his hand spilling down the front of his shirt.

"The fuck man!?"

By the time he turned around, Hank was already in his face.

"You wanna go?"