Count Your Blessings

By Kat Fenn

A/N: Thank you, Riversong650, for the comments which lit the fire!

A/N 2: To JMV, wherever you are, I'm so sorry to hear about your troubles. I hope your life gets a little easier. Thank you for the life you brought to Stringfellow Hawke.

Chapter 1

Stringfellow Hawke sighed as he saw strands of sandy brown hair mixed with strands of grey in his comb. Balling up the loose strands of hair, he crossed over to the toilet and flushed them down. Turning to the mirror, he looked at himself with a critical eye. His mop of sandy brown hair, now salt and pepper seemed to be thinner than what he remembered, but he wasn't quite bald or balding – not yet. His steel blue eyes, although surrounded by deeper lines, seemed to be as alert as ever. His tanned skin stretched a little more loosely along his cheekbones. Fine lines had appeared around his lips, but overall, not too bad. "Not bad for someone who's almost 60," he said aloud.

The ears of the brown and white mutt lying in the corner pricked up at the sound of his master's voice. Turning to his dog, String smiled. "We're getting older, not old, my boy." He thought wistfully of his dog, Tet, who had died ten years ago. His replacement, Trouble, had been with him for the past nine years, and was as independent as Tet ever was. Trouble seemed to be equally at home at the cabin, and at the little townhouse that String shared with Dom during the week.

Pulling a comfortable golf shirt over his head, String slipped his feet into his favourite moccasins and padded softly downstairs to turn the percolator on. As he busied himself in the kitchen, his still-keen hearing picked up the sounds of his best friend unmistakeably stirring from sleep. Pouring the steaming coffee into two mugs, he made his way to the downstairs bedroom that Dom occupied.

Poking his head round the door, String grinned at his friend. "Coffee and some company?"

"Mamma mia, who the hell are you and what have you done to Stringfellow Hawke?" ribbed Dom, as he pushed the covers away.

AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW

"You know what, String, I kinda miss Cait on days like this," as Dom put a cup of coffee down by String's elbow.

Deciding that the recalcitrant bolt could wait till he had a coffee break, String put the screwdriver down on the workbench. Surreptitiously stretching his lower back, he swivelled on his work chair to face Dom. "Yeah. She always used to sing along to the radio as she worked in the hangar, and I used to tell her to stick to her day job."

"And she always kept the coffee pot going, too."

"But somehow always missed out on the last mugful?"

Both String and Dom laughed at the memory. "It's been a while since I spoke to her. I take it you've spoken to her, Dom?" asked String, as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, she's doing fine. She still misses Trevor, but the grandkids are keeping her busy. She says she's still flying, dusting crops for the neighbours, and still riding that little dirt bike you cleaned up for her. She asked when you were gonna call, String," admonished Dom gently.

"Yeah. Just too many memories, Dom. Some days I can smile about the times we shared, and some days the regret just eats me up."

"Hey, at least we still have Santini Air! And we're both still flying…"

"Yeah." String grinned up at Dom. Nearly ninety, Dom was still in good health and good spirits. He had just been given a clean bill of health from the doctor yesterday, in preparation for his annual pilot licence renewal. And so had String. The two of them continued to do charters and teach students, but their days of stunt flying had been over for a while. Ever since Cait had announced that she was needed back at her parent's ranch, Dom had consulted with String and the both of them had decided that they would scale Santini Air down – the other alternative would have been to bring in someone younger, but Dom had been very reluctant to give up management of Santini Air. So the decision had been made, and Cait had left. String missed her terribly, and even thought of going after her and getting her to come back to California, but then had come the news of her being engaged to a neighbour, Trevor. String remembered the feeling of his heart shattering into tiny pieces as he fought to keep a tight lid on his emotions. He had buried himself in his work and tried to forget about her, but for months afterwards something small and seemingly insignificant would bring back memories of her.

"Earth to String!" bellowed Dom's voice in his ear.

"Sorry, Dom," said String, shaking himself out of his reverie. "I was just thinking about Cait."

"Yeah, well, no point crying over spilt milk," said Dom. "You know, you COULD just go and see her."

"Yeah, I could."

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted their conversation. "You're closer," said String, picking up his screwdriver again.

Dom shrugged his shoulders as he reached towards the telephone hanging on the side of the hangar wall.

"Santini Air."

"Hi, I'm looking for Stringfellow Hawke?"

"Sure, he's right here," said Dom, nudging String and putting the receiver where he could hold it to his ear.

"This is Hawke," said String, smiling his thanks at Dom.

"Hi, Mr Hawke? This is Michelle speaking. I've been trying to track you down, I think I'm your daughter."

AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW