Not thinking a thing about it, Cait grabbed the door handle and gave it a quick turn. The door wouldn't open. She tried it again and the door wouldn't budge.
The air quickly began to leave the room and Caitlin found herself gasping for breath. She slammed the flat of her hand against the door. "Hey! Let me out! I can't breathe in here! Hey! Someone let me out! Please!" Hot tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Someone please let me out. Help me! I can't breathe in. . ."
The door handle jerked out of her hand and with that force was propelled into someone's chest. Caitlin jumped out of the comforting arms.
"Hey, it's just me," Hawke voice said. "You're okay," He pulled her into his arms again and Caitlin accepted the embrace until she started feeling claustrophobic again. Quickly, she stepped back.
"Hey, you're okay, Caitlin. It's me." Hawke wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "I must not have gotten the supply door fixed." He slapped the door with his hand. "Bad door. Bad, bad, door." If this was supposed to make her laugh, it wasn't working. However, having him there was comforting.
"I just. . .I left my purse here earlier and I came back to get it. I was putting Dominic's tool box back in the supply closet when the door locked on me. I couldn't get out. I felt trapped again."
"Again?" Hawke let her go and crossed his arms over his chest. "When was the last time you felt trapped, Cait?"
Caitlin wiped the wetness from her face. "I don't know. I just want to go home and go to bed."
Caitlin went back into the office and picked up her purse. When she turned around, Hawke was blocking the door. "You haven't been the same for a few weeks, Caitlin. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No!" She snapped. "I want to go home and sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
"Don't forget Michael's party tomorrow night."
"Oh, yea!" She called back sarcastically.
If someone had been looking down at the party from somewhere very high it would have looked like black ants swirling around a grand ball room. The event was an award ceremony for Michael. Hawke thought it should have been an awards ceremony for Airwolf, considering the lady was the reason he was getting the award in the first place.
Dinner came first and Hawke, Caitlin, and Dominic sat at a table together feasting on rubber chicken, lumpy mashed potatoes, and hot green beans. While people ate, others danced. Hawke even got Caitlin out on the floor for a spin. The band was in full swing as gentlemen swirled their ladies around the room.
Caitlin clung to Hawke as they waltzed around their space on the dance floor. She knew he was speaking to her because she saw his mouth moving, but she couldn't hear the words. Instead, her head was full of screaming voices none of which were her own. When she heard the gunshot ring out in her head, she excused herself and went to the ladies room.
Even the cold water splashed on her face didn't help the sick feeling she had all over. Against the mirror in the ladies room, her face was a ghostly white and the overhead lights weren't even that harsh.
She slipped her purse underneath her arm, intent on going home, and slipped out of the ladies room. Hawke was standing across from the door, far enough away to not panic any woman going in or coming out. He walked up to her when she came out and grabbed her arm.
"You don't look so good," He commented.
"I don't feel so good," She admitted. "I'll get a ride home."
"I'm going to take you home," He said, and steered her toward the door.
The ride to her apartment was forty-five minutes and it was driven in silence. He walked Caitlin to her apartment door and walked in with her.
"I'm fine now, Hawke," Caitlin said as she dropped her bag onto the couch.
"When you get some color in your face, I'll leave." He picked up her bag and handed it to her. "Why don't you go change and I'll fix you some tea. Then we can talk."
"Okay, the tea is above the sink."
By the time Caitlin came out of her bedroom in pink two piece pajamas, Hawke had the tea ready and setting on the coffee table in the living room.
"You look better," Hawke said as he handed her the stoneware mug of tea. He took his mug and leaned back on the couch. "You haven't been yourself for the past couple weeks. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Hawke, I'm fine really."
"Really?" He took her cup of tea and set it on the coffee table. "You've been cranky, distant, and sullen. Also, I've never seen a red head that shade of white like you were tonight." He took her hand, warmed from the hot cup of tea she was holding moments earlier.
"My demons are screaming at me," Caitlin said, ripping her hand from Hawke's hand. She ran her hands through her hair and groaned. "There are voices in my head and I can't figure out what they're saying and I can't make them stop screaming at me." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks."
Hawke pulled her into his arms and let her cry. "You're going to be all right, Caitlin. At least for one night, you're demons won't get past me."