My Portugese Connection

by KatFenn

The standard disclaimers apply - I don't own these characters! What happens when an old enemy refuses to die and tracks you halfway across the world? An adventure starring String in South Africa (for those that have been following my story arc) This is dedicated to my good friend Nuno whose birthday it is on the 9th of November. Happy Birthday!

My Portuguese Connection (Sequel to Happy Birthday)

By Kat Fenn

Specially dedicated to my good friend - HAPPY BIRTHDAY NUNO!

A/N: I could not decide whether to publish the entire story at one go, or to have them in chapters - so I hope you have time to read everything at once!

A/N 2: Thank you both, robertwnielsen and fanfictionkkc for being my beta readers. Sorry I left you out in the first draft!

Chapter 1

"Call for you, String!" Cait's Texan twang rang out across the hangar, across to the Hughes 500 that String was precariously perched on, trying his hardest to get the rotor assembly to disengage from the shaft, without sliding off.

"Ow!" The wrench String was working with clattered to the floor.

"You OK, kid?" Came an anxious voice from the floor of the cockpit, where Dom was lying flat on his back trying to replace the cabling that he had yanked out from underneath the control panel, in an almost futile effort to locate the source of the problematic cyclic control.

A clatter of footsteps and a muttered "I'll live," was all Dom could hear through the half-open doors. Shrugging to himself, Dom turned back to the contrary wiring.

String stalked through the back office door, where Cait was sitting, half-buried in a pile of paperwork. As he reached out to take the phone from her outstretched hand, she shrieked. "You're bleeding all over my paperwork!"

String took a closer look at his right hand. Indeed, underneath the dirt and grime, a long and seemingly-deep cut over his knuckles dripped bright red droplets of blood which pitter-pattered like raindrops over the latest aviation fuel invoice. Ignoring it, he continued to reach for the phone, as Cait scurried to get him a clean cloth to mop up the bleeding with.

"Hello, this is Hawke."

"Hawke? It's Mick, calling you from Johannesburg!"

"Grasshopper? How are you doing, old buddy?" String winked his thanks at Cait as she pressed a clean washcloth into his hand.

"I've been better, sunshine. Listen, what are you doing for the next couple of weeks?"

"Working, I suppose. I'm not sure – I'm going to have to check with Dom and Cait what we have scheduled. Why? What's up?"

"Do you think you could spare me a week or two?"

"What, you mean go out there to you?"

"Yeah – I kinda got myself de-commissioned and my partner left for a job yesterday, and won't be back for about two weeks!"

"And what is it exactly that you did to yourself? I suppose by 'decommissioned' you mean that you've actually broken something - or things?"

Embarrassed silence ensued. Eventually, Grasshopper cleared his throat and said, "I guess you could say that, Hawke. I've errr…broken my leg in three places. And my shoulder as well. Half my body's in plaster, I have a full schedule of charters and students, and I could sure use some help – and some of your miserable company?"

Trying hard not to erupt into hysterical laughter, String managed to choke out, in what he hoped was a reasonably sober tone, "OK, lemme speak to Dom and Cait, and I'll call you right back. I suppose it would be a good time to go and see Karen as well. Hang in there, I'll let you know as soon as I can."

Dropping the phone back onto its cradle, String guffawed with laughter at the thought of his burly South African friend helpless and half encased in plaster.

"What's so funny?" said Cait, looking up at him through her fringe of red hair.

"Oh Cait, that was Grasshopper – remember him? I served with him in 'Nam. He's broken his shoulder and leg, and is in plaster!"

Cait started to giggle. "I'll bet Grasshopper's fretting 'cos he has to sit still and can't do anything for himself!"

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Chapter 2

String stepped off the South African Airways plane, into the air-conditioned coolness of the terminal at the OR Tambo International Airport. It had been a hectic few days, with all the rescheduling that all three of them had to do so that he could give his old friend two weeks of his time. Obviously charters couldn't be rearranged, but String had volunteered to take a lot of Cait's and Dom's students before he left, and tried to do as much of the routine maintenance as he could squeeze in, so that they wouldn't grumble too much about the increased workload while he was away. At one point he had spent four nights in a row in the narrow, cramped cot in the back office as he had worked till he was too tired to see straight. He smiled to himself as he remembered the good-natured ribbing that he had endured, as String taking up a bumbling student was a sure recipe for disaster, or so Cait had said. However, all the students had taken to his instruction pretty well, and he hoped that he would be able to cope fine with Grasshopper's students.

String picked up his duffle bag from the baggage carousel, hoping that the little trinkets that he had bought for his South African girlfriend, Karen, had survived the trip intact. It had been a good eight months since he had seen her, when she had flown over to spend some time with him on his fortieth birthday. He missed her terribly, somehow the phone calls and the messages just left him hungry for more. He hoped that she would be there to meet him – she said that she would try, but couldn't promise to be on time thanks to the horrendous early morning traffic that normally greeted Johannesburg commuters.

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Karen settled into her comfortable plush settee. She could hear String whistling as he washed away the grime of the journey to Johannesburg. Knowing that he would want coffee shortly, she had put the percolator on before she sat down. It had been a busy morning, and the adrenaline and excitement that had kept her up half the night was now slowly beginning to ebb.

"Hey, Karen!"

Karen jerked upright, and smiled to herself. "What's up, String?" she called.

"Have you got a clean towel for me?"

Karen smiled even wider, as she got up from her perch. She was pretty sure that it was all a ploy, as she had set out a fluffy clean towel for String on her towel rack and pointed it out to him as he entered the bathroom. She shed her clothes as she made her way past her bedroom into her bathroom.

"Hey, where's my clean towel?" teased String, as she pulled the shower curtain aside.

"Now, why would you need a clean towel right now?" grinned Karen, as she tumbled into the shower and into String's arms, lips already meeting his.

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"So how far away is Henley airfield anyway?" String wrapped his fingers around the enormous cup of coffee that Karen had poured for him. He felt invigorated, and happy to be in Johannesburg with Karen again.

"About half an hour away, by bike. Oh, my dad was more than pleased to lend you his CBX750 again, for the two or three weeks you're going to be here. So it shouldn't be too difficult for you to stay here and ride down to the airfield every day. Where was it that your friend lived, again?"

"Somewhere in the south - Meyerton, I think. I've got the address in my duffle somewhere, and I've got his phone number right here."

"So finish your coffee, and we can call him and make arrangements to meet maybe later this evening? I promised my folks that I'd bring you past for lunch and pick up the bike."

"So we have another couple of hours to make up for lost time, huh? I've really missed you. Um, that's of course, if you haven't got anywhere else to be?" String was hopeful, but not exactly expecting her to be available to spend a few hours with him. He knew what a busy businesswoman she was, with her administrative work keeping her busy in the mornings, and the ballet studio occupying her afternoons and evenings.

"Hey, what do you take me for? I cleared today's schedule as soon as you gave me your flight details. I've missed you terribly, you know – and I've been looking forward to spending some quality time with my handsome boyfriend for months!"

"Oh, you little liar! I only booked my flights ten days ago," said String, secretly pleased that she had cleared her schedule just for him.

"What can I say – you left a lasting impression on me last time?"

"All of fifteen minutes ago, you little minx!" said String, deliberately twisting her words to good effect. Then braced himself as she launched herself at him. "Hey, watch out for the coffee!"

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Chapter 3

"How's life treating you, Grasshopper?"

"Well, Hawke, life is good – well, it was, till last week."

"So you gonna tell me how you managed to decommission yourself, or am I going to have to listen to scuttlebutt to get the whole story?"

"OK, OK. The short and polite version is that I was at a bike rally with this chick and I heading back to my tent from having supper and a few drinks in town when she suddenly went limp on me. I couldn't hold the bike and ended up in a ditch on my shoulder, with my leg folded under me."

String grinned at Karen, who was sat next to him on the comfortable sofa. "And the long and rude version?"

"Maybe after dinner. How about I grab some meat from the fridge and I treat you to a braai?"

"As long as you have something other than meat, buddy."

Karen winked at Grasshopper as she pulled out a well-wrapped package of salmon steaks out of her huge shoulder bag with one hand, and a plastic container of what looked like salad with the other. "Will this do?"

"Best you hang on to this girlie, String – she's a keeper!" laughed Grasshopper, as he struggled to get up from his chair.

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String took off his sunglasses as he walked into the hangar. He hoped where he had parked the borrowed CBX750 was safe enough – he remembered what Johannesburg could be like when it came to crime. "You here, Grasshopper?"

"Back here!"

String could smell fresh coffee brewing as he stepped into the tiny back office of Henley Air. Despite the early hour, he could see that Grasshopper had been in the office for at least an hour or two, judging by the pile of completed work in his outbox. "So I guess I won't have to do any paperwork, buddy?"

Grasshopper laughed. "I know your strengths, my friend, and from what I remember, paperwork ain't one of them! Help yourself to some coffee while I set out your paperwork for you, and find you a copy of the week's schedule."

String turned to the little coffee machine in the corner, and poured himself a mugful. It was steaming hot, and black and thick, just the way he liked it.

"So here's the insurance forms for you to sign, and here's your temporary instructor's and pilot's licence for SA. I'll be here to sort out the paperwork, all you need to do is the actual flying and lessons. That sound OK to you?"

"Sounds great. Am glad to help you out, I'll never forget what you did for me in the jungle."

"Oh c'mon, buddy, that was like a million years ago."

"Still…."

Changing the subject abruptly, Grasshopper shoved an A3 piece of paper under String's nose. "And here's this week's schedule. Charters all day Tuesday and Wednesday, and students today and Thursday. Nothing planned for Friday – thought you might want to take the weekend and spend it with your girlie. I haven't got next week's schedule done yet, but if you want to take a long weekend we can do students on Tuesday and Thursday next week, as we have charters on Wednesday. That'll give you Friday to Monday to spend with your girlie."

"Sounds good. So tell me about the students I'm teaching today, then."

Grasshopper nodded with his chin towards the clipboards on the wall. "All their info and log sheets are on the clipboards, Hawke. Grab the one labelled Carreira, wontcha? He's your first one today."

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"Hello, Nuno, I'm Hawke – I'll be teaching you today."

"Hello, Hawke, I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you," said Nuno, shaking String's proffered hand.

String led his student to the Hughes 500 which was standing ready in front of the hangar. Checking that he had a pen and the student's clipboard record, he climbed into the co-pilot seat. "Alright, Nuno, this isn't your first time up, but it's my first time teaching you, so tell me how you would start off doing your pre-flight check."

String sat back in the co-pilot seat. He seemed to be relaxed, his hands clasped loosely in his lap and his feet planted firmly on the floor of the cockpit. Nuno had impressed him. Although this was only his fourth time up in a chopper, he could hover reasonably well – something that sometimes took other students tens of times to get right. And he seemed to be able to cope well with the wind eddies in this part of the world, instinctively making corrections to the controls. Granted, some of the corrections were over-corrections, but Hawke was sure that as his skill grew, the erstwhile student would be a brilliant pilot. "That's very good, Nuno. I see that you have a fixed wing licence already, but you fly like you were born to it. Have you been flying for a long time?"

"Yes, I have Meneer Kilpen and the Boesmansrug farm to thank for that." Nuno grinned at String.

"You do love flying, don't you?"

"Ja, I sure do."

"OK, let's try a slow left turn on my mark, and let's see if you can stop and hover when I give you a signal. Remember what I told you about little corrections," added String. He could tell that his student was really keen and hanging on to his every word. "Let's turn left – HERE."

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Nuno was smiling from ear to ear as he landed the Hughes 500 almost exactly where it was parked at the beginning of the lesson. String grinned to himself as he let Nuno power down the little chopper by himself. He hadn't felt like he had to take the controls once, pretty much a rare occurrence when taking up a student with such a small number of lessons under his or her belt.

"Thank you, Hawke, that was a really good lesson," said Nuno, as he walked back to the office with String.

"You did well, Nuno. When do I see you again?"

"I have a lesson booked next week, I think Mick said Tuesday morning, but I had to confirm that with you. I understand you're here for two weeks until Jerry gets back from Zim(babwe)? I'm not sure what you are doing or where you're staying, but my wife and I would like to invite you round for a meal or a drink while you're here."

"That would be really nice, as long as it's not a…what do you call it….braai? I'm staying at my girlfriend's in Bryanston, so if I could bring her along as well?"

"Sounds good, how about dinner tomorrow night at my place in Craighall Park – that's about fifteen minutes' drive away from Bryanston? I'll make sure Maria cooks something nice – is there anything you don't eat, Hawke?"

"I prefer fish, if that's possible, Nuno. I'd love to hear some of your flying stories. Grasshopper..er, Mick… said that you've worked in an air charter company in Mozambique."

"Sure, no problem. I'd love to hear some stories about your life in California. Shall we say 7pm tomorrow night? Here's my address," finished Nuno, pressing a small white card into String's hand.

"Karen and I look forward to it," said String, shaking Nuno's hand this time. With a jaunty salute, Nuno turned on his heel, zipping up his black biker jacket, and headed to his car.

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Chapter 4

"Well, that sure doesn't smell like a braai!" said Karen, giggling. "Well, as long as I don't smell too bad, we should be fine."

String smiled down at her. "You are absolutely fine. Stop worrying."

Karen grinned back at String. "You weren't the one teaching all afternoon, running and jumping after kiddywinks and the like."

"Hey, I was teaching too!"

"Yeah, but you sit still when you teach. Hang on, didn't you say that you were flying some business execs back to Sasolburg today? You lying toe-rag!" Karen threw a mock-punch at String's arm, and String tried to hold her arms down by simply giving her a bear hug.

At that exact moment, Nuno opened the door.

"Hello, Hawke. And you must be Karen?" stopping them dead in their tracks. "It isn't often that I have guests scrapping on my doorstep! Come in, we can continue the fight indoors," Nuno chuckled, as he ushered his guests inside.

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It had been a lovely evening. The foursome had got along famously, chattering away about various things till the early hours of the morning. String, looking at his watch and ever-mindful that he had to be at the hangar for his first student at 10am the next morning, had regretfully got to his feet and thanked his host and hostess. Nuno and his wife Maria had waved them cheerfully off at their front gate, and Karen was now driving them both back to her little apartment in Bryanston in her little red Golf.

"They're lovely people, aren't they, String?"

"Yeah," said String, suppressing a yawn. He stretched his arms upwards, and let them fall back down again, making sure that his right arm ended up around Karen's shoulders. "Tired?"

"A bit. I have a client to get to tomorrow morning, but a free afternoon – for a change."

"Well, we can get straight to bed then," said String with a smile, looking at Karen through his eyelashes.

Laughing, Karen said, "Don't you ever stop?"

"Not with you!"

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String put the side stand of his borrowed CBX750 down and climbed off the bike. Undoing the chin strap, he pulled the helmet off his head and tucked it under his arm. With his free hand, he scrabbled in his jeans pocket for the keys to the hangar.

As he neared the entrance, keys in hand, he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. "What the f*&%? Could've sworn I locked the door behind me when I left yesterday," thought String to himself. Taking a deep breath, String pushed the door open cautiously. Hearing no noises from beyond the door, he took a few more steps into the office and looked around. The reception area seemed to be exactly the way he left it yesterday, but as he opened the door into the office, a mess of note greeted him.

"Shit," said String, out loud. Quickly crossing to the safe behind the desk, he looked at the lock. It hadn't been jimmied open, as far as he could see. He spun the lock, putting in the combination to open it, and was relieved to see that the contents appeared untouched. Slamming the safe door shut, String headed back to the reception area. Both the computers in the reception area and the office were intact and unharmed. Turning on the coffee machine in the reception area, String turned back to the office. "Guess I'd better try and tidy this mess up before I have to get going," thought String to himself. "Why would anyone break in and leave a mess like this without taking anything?"

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Chapter 5

"I didn't want to worry you," said String, in answer to Grasshopper's furious query as to why he didn't call him immediately to let him know that the hangar had been broken into. "Besides, it doesn't look like anything's been taken, so steady on."

"Steady on? Bloody hell, Hawke, you haven't changed one bit! Cool and calm…as always!" String could hear the exasperation and sarcasm in his friend's voice.

"OK, OK. Simmer down. I know it's your place, and I know it's been eight hours since I first got here, but heck, I thought it better to tidy up, then do the charter, then call you," said String, hoping that his voice was calm and steady. Knowing Grasshopper and his (in)famous hair-trigger temper, the last thing he wanted to do was to aggravate his friend more. "If you like, I'll ride over to your place, and drive you over here in your car so you can look the damage over. There's hardly anything, though."

"Alright, my friend, come pick me up. I'll be ready to go when you get here."

"Hang in there, Grasshopper. I'll be there in about ten minutes, just let me lock up here."

"See you in 10, then."

String cradled the receiver. Grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the chair, he checked to make sure that the bike keys were in his pocket. Carefully locking up behind him, he jammed the borrowed helmet on his head and jumped onto the CBX. The engine started with a roar and he kicked it into first gear, quickly checking in his mirrors for oncoming traffic before he pulled away with a screech of tyres.

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"So what's the occasion, String?" said Karen anxiously, as they sat down to dinner that night. String had beat her home, made pasta and some salad, opened a bottle of wine and greeted her at the door of her apartment with a kiss.

"Can't a guy do something nice for his girl?"

Karen smiled. "I never pictured you as the domestic stay-at-home type," she said in a teasing tone.

"Well, I like that! Who do you think cooks at the cabin? And cleans?"

"Tet?" said Karen, dissolving into laughter.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, and there was only one way to stop her laughing at him, String pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

"Mmmmm, now that's what I call a welcome home. Or was that just to shut me up?"

"Shut up," growled String huskily.

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The dinner plates were in the sink before String could bring himself to mention what had happened at the hangar that morning. There was a niggle at the back of his mind that wouldn't go away. He wondered if this was yet another plot by someone else to get to Airwolf. He frowned as he contemplated the possibilities. The only people who knew that he was coming out to Johannesburg had been Dom, Cait, Michael and Marella – other than Karen and Grasshopper, of course. So someone who was after him in Johannesburg must have gotten the information from one of the very select bunch. At the other extreme, maybe the break-in at the hangar had been a case of mistaken identity of sorts – after the perpetrators had broken in, they looked for valuables, were either unable to find them or startled, and left in a hurry. That would explain why the computers and the safe were untouched.

"Penny for your thoughts?" said Karen, slipping her arms round her waist. "You're taking forever to wash these dishes – or are you enjoying a bubble bath for your arms?"

"Just thinking," said String, turning so that he could plant a quick kiss on the crown of her head. Right on cue, the phone rang. Karen squeezed him briefly before turning away to pick up the phone. String quickly finished rinsing the dishes out and drained the sink of water, and was just wiping his hands dry as Karen came into the kitchen with the extension phone.

"It's Grasshopper, for you."

"Hey, Grasshopper."

"Hawke? I was just wondering if you could pick me up on you way to the hangar tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

"See you at 6, then? You have an early student, don't you?"

"Yeah, at 7.30. I'll swing by and drive you in your car."

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It was still dark outside as Grasshopper fumbled his way out of the passenger seat. String stopped to grab his knapsack from the back seat, and make sure the car doors were locked before he tried to catch up with his friend, who by this time was already unlocking the main door.

Not wanting his friend to trip over his cumbersome cast and crutches in the dark, String tried to push past his friend in an effort to get to the light switch first. He felt Grasshopper put a restraining arm across String's chest and whispered, "Look!"

In the darkness, String could make out arrows inked on the floor in some sort of neon, glowing paint. The arrows seemed to lead into the back office. Inwardly cursing at himself for missing it, String started to follow the path marked by the arrows, tossing a "Watch your step, Grasshopper," over his shoulder.

Throwing open the office door, String noticed that the arrows seemed to stop in front of the TV and video machine. Quickly checking that there were no other visible signs, String strode back towards the office door and fumbled for the light switch.

"In here!" called out String, as he left the door open for his friend. "I can't believe we missed it!"

"Anyone here?" said a familiar voice, as the front door rattled on its hinges.

"Hey, Nuno! Yeah, Hawke is in the back office. Let's go get him," String could hear Grasshopper's voice and telltale tap tap of cast and crutches heading in his direction.

The next thing he knew, something hard thudded down on the back of his head and his world dissolved into blackness.

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Chapter 6

"Owwwww," thought Grasshopper to himself, as he realised what a cold, hard bed he was sleeping on. Trying to lever himself up onto his elbows, he began to realise that it wasn't a bed he was lying on, but a concrete floor. He managed to sit up after a few attempts, and realised that he was lying on the floor of the hangar. The lights were blazing, and the sun was streaming in through the window. He shook his head. The last thing he remembered was saying hello to Nuno, and walking with him towards the back office, where he had heard String yell, "I can't believe we missed it!" And it had been dark outside. He winced as a sharp throbbing began to make itself felt, near the base of his skull. His uninjured arm ached from where he had been resting his weight on it, as he was lying on the floor. He strained his ears to hear, but couldn't make out any voices, or the normal eddy of background noises – sounds made by plane or helicopter engines, or the clank of tools being used. Worried, he tried to shuffle along his bottom to the wall so he could lever himself to his feet.

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"Hawke? Are you OK?"

String struggled to open his eyes. He managed to pry his eyelids open, and saw a fuzzy image of a dark haired man with a neat moustache and beard standing over him. Blinking his eyes rapidly in an attempt to focus his gaze, the image slowly resolved itself to the familiar face of Nuno, who looked rather anxious. He tried to reassure Nuno with a smile. "I think I'm OK, aside from my head I don't think I have any broken bones or bruises. How about you?"

"They knocked me out too, so I think the two of us have a pretty pair of lumps on the back of our heads. But otherwise I'm OK."

"Any clues as to where we are, or how we got here, Nuno?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I don't know how far we are from the airfield, but from where the windows are in the walls and the cool air around us I'd say we're in a basement room somewhere. Rhe windows are covered with a thick burglarproof mesh, and the door seems to be locked from the outside – the handle's hanging loose on our side."

"You a cop in a former life, Nuno?"

Nuno laughed as he replied. "No, but I read lots of spy novels! And you? "

Grinning to himself as he thought about what Nuno would say if he told him about his association with the Firm and Airwolf, Hawke elected to ignore the question. "Yeah, I love James Bond. OK, as all good spies do, let's have a hunt round and see what we can use to get ourselves out of here."

Scrambling off the makeshift bed he had been lying on, String started emptying his pockets. A little pocketknife, two lengths of short but strong pieces of metal which could be used as potential lockpicks, a length of parcel string and a little adjustable spanner came out of his jeans pockets. He patted his jacket pockets and extracted his wallet and a few assorted scraps of paper.

Nuno was busy fumbling around his pockets as well, and added his wallet, a set of keys with a small red plastic-silicon red flag on the key ring, and another set of keys with a small torch at the end. String looked quickly at their feet, and mentally added two pairs of shoelaces to his inventory. Nuno was already on his feet, peering into the corners of the room, looking to see if there were any other bits and pieces that they could use. String decided to make himself useful and started searching in the opposite corner to which Nuno was in.

Two minutes later, both men carried their spoils to the pile of items that were already on the bed. String had a length of wire with a two pin plug at one end, and a rusted tin that looked like it used to hold motor oil or something similar, with no lid on the top, but a serviceable handle. Nuno had a length of metal pipe, also rusted, and a rusty flat-headed screwdriver with a broken handle.

Deciding that the best way out would be through the windows, String quickly asked Nuno to keep an ear out for their captors, while he dragged the other makeshift bed to the closest window and started running his fingers over the mesh, so he could determine exactly what it was that he was dealing with.

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John Bradford Horne steepled his fingers as he stared, seemingly, out into space. The little cottage he had rented, with the out-of-sight basement seemed to fit his purposes nicely. There was a clearing within sight of the cottage that was large enough to land a helicopter on, and a single road to leave and enter the grounds that the cottage was situated in.

Now all he had to do was make the video and get Stringfellow Hawke's friends to bring Airwolf to him in exchange. He wondered if he had made a mistake leaving the injured friend behind at the airfield, but given the limited manpower he had at the time – Jarley, McKinnon and Lyle, plus himself and Angelica – that had been the best option. It would have taken at least two of the men to manoeuvre the one that had various bits of his body in a plaster cast into the van – and between Hawke, and the other guy, both of whom were unconscious, it would have been difficult to get everyone into the van in good time. So he hoped that he wouldn't regret the decision.

"Daddy?" a girlish voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, Angelica?" he said, turning to face her.

"Can I take Hawke some water?"

"Is this just an excuse to see him, pumpkin?"

"I want to see if he still remembers me, Daddy."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Angelica. Remember he was under the influence of quite a few things the last time you two met," said Horne warningly. He knew that Angelica was quite enamoured of the young pilot, and had seen for himself how upset she had been the last time when Hawke had escaped with his friends. The last thing he wanted was for her to become unhinged this time – he desperately needed her help. Thinking it best if he killed two birds with one stone, Horne yelled for McKinnon and Lyle to bring the video camera and stand, and come with himself and Angelica into the basement. He thought it best to get the video done quickly, so that Hawke and the man captured with him would have less time to formulate a plan.

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"If you would sign here, please, Mr Santini," said the pimply-faced youth, proffering the clipboard and pen.

Without looking up, Dom grabbed the clipboard, dashed off his signature and continued with his conversation on the phone. The youth didn't move. Dom covered the mouthpiece of the receiver with his meaty right hand, and snarled, "Well if you're waiting for a tip, you'll be waiting a long time!"

Cait walked through the door at that pronouncement, and seeing the boy's face fall, rummaged in the pocket of her overalls, finding two crumpled dollar bills. "Here you go, get going," she said in a friendlier tone, as she pushed the bills into the youth's hand.

Walking over to the desk, she looked to Dom for permission, which he readily gave by waving his hand towards the yellow padded envelope sitting on his desk. Before tearing into it, Cait looked carefully for a return address but couldn't find any – the only thing that was on the parcel was Dom's name and the address of the hangar. Cait carefully ripped the big envelope open, and shook the contents out onto the desk.

"So what is it?" said Dom, as he cradled the receiver.

"Looks like a videotape and nothing else. You expecting a video from one of the studios, Dom?"

"Nope. They usually send a script or a contract or something, not a tape."

"Maybe we should have a look?"

"Good idea."

Cait took the tape and put it into the machine at the other end of the little office. As she was waiting for the television to turn itself on, she turned to Dom. "Hey, Dom, when was the last time you heard from String?"

"Yesterday, I think. He said he was on schedule to come home next week, oh, and he said to tell you that he hadn't killed any students yet."

"Well, knowing String, he must be on his best behaviour then!" said Cait, giggling. "Ah, here we go," she added, as the screen flickered into life.

"Mamma mia, now what?" exclaimed Dom, as String's face filled the screen, and John Bradford's voice said, "You have what I want, and I have what you want. What do you say we make a trade?"

Cait's only answer was to grab Dom's hand in hers, unable to tear her eyes off the screen.

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Chapter 7

"Santini Air." Cait wedged the receiver between her shoulder and her ear as she tried to disassemble the Detonics CombatMaster for a quick clean.

"Cait, is that you?"

"Karen? Hi, how are you?"

"Not so good. Cait, have you guys heard from String?"

"Well, in a matter of speaking, yes."

"Oh thank God! Is he OK?"

"Not exactly. Dom and I, we'll be on our way shortly."

"I was so worried when he didn't come home, and there was no answer at the hangar, but Grasshopper just called from the hospital – some guys ransacked the hangar, then carted off String and a student, and left Grasshopper unconscious on the floor."

"Karen, I can't say don't worry, but we're on our way. Hang in there and be strong, OK? We'll get String." Cait tried to keep her voice calm and steady, but she could feel herself start to shiver. A feeling of dread came over her as she remembered what had happened to String the last time Angelica and John Bradford Horne got him into their clutches. And how she had felt when she thought she had killed him – and how HE had felt when he came to his senses and thought that he had killed Dom. Shaking her head in an effort to dispel the feelings of horror and hopelessness that enveloped her, she quickly said. "Karen, I gotta go. There's lots to do here before we can leave, and we want to get there as soon as we can. I've got your number in Johannesburg, we'll call when we get a chance, OK? And I promise we'll swing by to see you once this is all over," she added, in what she hoped was a slightly more cheerful tone.

"Caitlin, I know you and Dom won't let anything happen to String if there's anything you can do about it, so please, be careful, and I'll see you soon."

A click sounded in her ear. Cait sighed as she cradled the receiver and turned back to the task at hand. Satisfied that the CombatMaster was ready for action, she quickly oiled it and reassembled it, putting it into the little holdall that stood open at the edge of the desk.

"Was that the phone?" said Dom, as he made his way to the office. He had been busy closing up the hangar, with Everett's help, as a big storm was predicted for the next day.

"Yeah, that was Karen."

"Was she OK?" Dom really liked Karen, he thought her feisty spirit was a good match for String's stubbornness. He had hoped and wished, in the past, that String and Cait would get together, but understanding that love could not be forced (no matter how hard he tried), he was happy that his boy had found a nice girl to love.

"Worried, but she sounded OK – under the circumstances."

"Right. What else do we need to take?"

"Just ammo, from the safe. And maybe some cash? I've filled the flask with coffee, packed our passports, and maybe we can stop at the convenience store for some sandwiches?"

"Good job, Cait," said Dom, as he made his way over to the safe with the holdall.

Cait could see that Dom was worried. Aside from the fact that there was no good-natured ribbing about making sure that she packed her powder puff and tampons, she had never seen that look on his face. Murderous, almost.

"I tell you, Cait, this time we're going to take down Horne. I've had enough of this bullshit, never knowing when he's going to try going after String again!" said Dom, as he slammed the safe door shut and zipped up the holdall, after checking that his Colt was also safely stowed in it.

"Right, let's go then." Cait laced her arm through Dom's as both of them walked through the office door. Raising her voice, she yelled, "Bye, Everett. We'll see you in a week or so," hoping inwardly that it wouldn't take that long to sort!

"Sure thing, Miss Cait! Have a good trip, Mr Santini!" came Everett's cheerful voice.

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"Ready when you are, Dom," said Cait.

"Right. Let's get going. Once we are clear of the Lair, patch me through to Archangel on a secure line, wontcha?"

"Sure thing, Dom."

Dom busied himself with getting the Lady through the narrow chimney – he swallowed hard as he remembered ribbing String on more than one occasion about making sure he didn't leave any bits of her precious paint on the solid rock walls.

Cait's voice sounded through his helmet.

"I have Archangel on the line."

"Dominic? Cait?"

"Right here, Michael. String's in trouble, and we need some help." Dom tried to keep the anxiety he was feeling from showing in his voice.

"Wasn't he in Johannesburg?"

"Yup. And it sounds like Horne's got him!" Cait's voice sounded in both their helmets.

"I take it that I needn't verify that fact then?"

"No. We got a video couriered to us this morning."

"So you'll need a refuelling point between here and Johannesburg?"

"Yes, thank you, Michael," said Dom, trying hard not to sound sarcastic.

"Michael, I think we'll also need some help on the ground. I've just keyed in the coordinates that Horne gave us on the video, and it looks like a ground assault may be the only way?" Dom could tell that Cait was also fighting to keep her voice from revealing how she felt.

"Not that I don't trust the two of you, but String normally does the planning when it comes to missions like this." Michael tried his best to keep things civil, but boy oh boy, he hated trying to reason with Santini. He always seemed to bring out the worst in him, somehow. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Send me the coordinates and I'll check out the topography and scout the area, give you a couple of extra pairs of eyes." "And some brains," he added silently. "I'll come back to you with coordinates for a refuel and a conference once we have all the details."

"Roger that. Airwolf out." Cait cut the commlink with press of a button. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yes, it was," growled Dom. "I hate talking to Mr Clean! That calm voice of his just sets my teeth on edge."

"Aw, c'mon Dom, we really do need his help. We'll never get to Johannesburg and get diplomatic clearance to land without him, and I really think anything he can do to help us get String out of Horne's clutches would be welcome, wouldn't it?"

Dom winced as he heard the inflection in Cait's voice. The worst part was, he knew she was right.

"Harrumph!" was the only satisfaction she got.

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Chapter 8

"Why can't I go with you, Dom?"

"Cait, sweetheart, if something happens to me and String, we'll need someone to back us up – and fly the Lady if necessary. Besides, you're fitter than me – you'll be able to keep up with the ground forces," Dom tried to reason with her. He knew how she felt about being left behind. Dom knew in his heart of hearts that he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her while she was crewing Airwolf under his command.

"Fine, Dom." Cait turned on her heel and stalked off to wrestle with the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "I can't believe that these two still think I'm just a girl!" Dashing the tears away with the back of an impatient hand, she carried on walking towards the makeshift headquarters of the ground assault team.

McNally, the leader of the team, was waiting for her with a camouflage jacket to go over her grey flightsuit. He also had a webbing belt for her CombatMaster, so that she would have it more readily to hand.

"All set?" he asked.

Shrugging into the proffered jacket and pulling the belt tight around her small waist, she nodded her thanks at McNally. "Not quite yet. Can I have a quick word with Dom on the radio?"

"Sure."

"Dom, this is Cait, come in."

"Reading you loud and clear, Cait."

"I just wanted to say…good luck out there."

"Thanks Cait, you too. Be careful, eh?"

"Ground control, out."

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"You ready, Nuno?"

"Ready when you are, Hawke."

String hoped like Hell that their latest plan would work. He had already tried picking the lock of their prison, which did unlock after hours of trying. But there seemed to be an additional lock across a hasp which they couldn't get to, to remove. So Plan B had come into play – trying to get out through a mesh-covered window. Himself and Nuno had looked over the three windows, or potential routes of escape, and assessed each one of them. One of the windows had mesh which was badly rusted, leaving a gap in the corner. The same window also had cracks in its glass pane, a definite plus.

Wrapping the length of wire they had found around key points in the mesh, String and Nuno worked to bend the mesh away from the window so that they had an area big enough for them to wriggle through. Fortunately neither one of them had a large frame.

"OK, now what?"

"Grab me that length of pipe, I'm gonna try and clear the window of glass. Be ready to go, though, once the glass breaks, it'll be like an alarm went off."

"Roger that."

"Here goes!" String tried to work quickly and was suitably rewarded by the satisfying crash and tinkle of breaking glass falling onto the pavement outside. "Boost me up, Nuno!"

Standing on Nuno's shoulders, String used his jacketed right forearm to clear the sill of glass. Wriggling through, he managed to lever himself up and out of the basement. He could hear footsteps running down the corridor and the sound of raised voices.

"Quickly, Nuno! Give me your hand!" said String, as he pressed himself flat to the ground and reached through the broken window, intending to help Nuno out of the basement before their captors discovered that they were out.

Nuno scrambled through as quickly as he could. He could hear the rattle of keys behind him. He managed to just pull his feet through the gap as exclamations and gun shots erupted from the doorway.

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Nuno was running at full tilt behind String as he headed towards the nearest patch of bushes he could see. With no real idea of where they were Nuno hoped like hell that String had a plan. He had worked under hazardous conditions before, with mining operations out in the sticks, but this was a whole new ballgame.

String was running full tilt towards the bushes he hoped would provide some cover from the bullets that zinged around his head. Breathing hard, he just about stepped with his right foot into the beginning of the foliage when he felt a hot, sharp pain sear through his belly. Not trusting himself to look down, he pushed himself so that he would fall forward into the bush.

A scant two seconds later, a panting Nuno crashed through the bush and almost landed on top of Stringfellow Hawke.

"Oouf! Watch it, Nuno!"

"Sorry, I'll be more careful next time taking cover when people are shooting at me," said Nuno sarcastically. He rolled away from String. His eyes widened as he realised that String had been shot.

"You've been shot!"

"Yeah." String's face was grey as he brought his left hand up to cover the bloody patch.

"Here," said Nuno, ripping off his jacket and pressing it, lining side down, onto the wound. He moved String's hand onto it and said, "Try to put some pressure on it, maybe that'll stop the bleeding a bit." Nuno put his hands under String's left side and levered him up so he could look at the damage. "No exit wound, Hawke – the bullet's still in there."

"Whatever it is, it hurts like hell." String gritted his teeth. He could feel his blood seeping into the lining of the jacket at no slow rate. He wondered if he would manage to stay alive long enough to get out of this place. He cursed his own bad luck.

Nuno took a deep breath as he turned away from Hawke and peered through the bushes, trying to figure out what would be their best strategy for getting out. He was worried. The bullet wound was high up in Hawke's belly, which probably meant the bullet had taken a few ribs out before it buried itself in his viscerals. The more Hawke moved around, the more likely that a broken rib would cause more damage to his inner organs, and possibly even lacerate a lung. The prospect of getting him out of the clutches of their captors, on foot, was not good.

Nuno could hear Hawke trying to attract his attention. "Get ready to go, Nuno, help's on its way."

Straining his ears, Nuno turned back to Hawke. "What do you hear, Hawke?" just as an eerie banshee wail sounded from the heavens. A welcome chatter of machine gun fire sounded over their heads.

"Help me up, Nuno, we gotta get into the clearing so the calvary can see us."

Shaking his head, Nuno disagreed. "It's not a good idea, Hawke, you've got broken ribs that could puncture a lung!"

Gritting his teeth, String pushed himself up onto his right elbow. "Dammit, either you're going to help me or we're both going to die here. What's it gonna be?" he snarled.

Realising that Hawke was right, Nuno tried to help String back onto his feet. Deciding that the best way would be to carry him, he lifted String over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, hoping that he wouldn't cause any further injury by doing so. Nuno made his way out of the bushes. He could hear, over the eerie banshee wail, shouts of men and gunfire. He started to head for a clearing, as per Hawke's last instruction. "Hang in there, Hawke."

Dom spotted the figure moving away from the shooting, carrying another man over his shoulder. Deciding that he was the closest to rendering aid, he yanked the landing gear lever down.

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Realising that String needed to get medical attention as quickly as possible, Nuno saw the big black helicopter coming in to land. He tried to hurry his steps. String was now unconscious and a dead weight, and he could feel blood seeping into his own clothing through the leather jacket that he had placed as padding between his body and String's wound. Nuno saw that the grey-haired pilot of the magnificent helicopter had popped his door open and was dodging bullets in an effort to get to the passenger side of the helicopter, presumably to help him.

"Get him in, get him in!"

As Nuno got to the open passenger door of the helicopter, Dom used his bulk to shield the both of them as he tried to get the unconscious man off the other one's shoulders and into the cockpit between the engineer's station and the passenger seat. He thought the jacket looked familiar, but shrugged the thought from his head as he busied himself. As the unconscious man fell backwards, Dom was shocked to see that it was String.

"Mamma mia!" He shot upright. Then fell forwards as two stray bullets hit him passing through the gap between the bulletproof glass of the passenger window, and the front windshield - one through his upper arm, and the other into his shoulder blade.

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"Oh f^%&!" thought Nuno to himself. "At least Hawke's safe," he thought to himself. He carefully helped the other man into the passenger seat. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the protective armoured door and slammed it shut. Keeping his head down, Nuno ran to the pilot seat and jumped into the big, black helicopter, and slammed the door shut. He jammed the heavy black helmet onto his head and looked quickly at the controls. He recognised the cyclic and the collective, and put his feet onto the rudder pedals. "OK, so far so good." He looked over to the passenger seat, where Dom was drifting in and out of consciousness. "I gotta get these two to the hospital right away!"

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Nuno looked around desperately for some sort of landmark. He had managed to get the big black helicopter into the air, and was slowly coming to grips with how sensitive the controls were. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he tried to think ahead, as he had been taught. "No sudden moves," he thought to himself, "This bird reacts like a startled cat!"

A big highway came into view on the very edges of his horizon. "Hallelujah, I can follow the highway which will hopefully take me to civilisation!" Easing the cyclic forward as gently as he could, Nuno tried his best to keep the helicopter trim so as not to jostle the two injured men in the cockpit.

A Texan twang sounded in his helmet. "Ground Control to Airwolf, come in Airwolf!"

Startled, Nuno tightened his grip on the cyclic and collective. Hoping that there were no buttons to press as he could not, at that point in time, spare even a finger, he responded.

"This is Airwolf, receiving you loud and clear, Ground Control."

"Who the hell are you?" said an agitated female voice in his ear.

"Nuno Carreira. And who the hell are you?"

"Cait. I'm one of the Airwolf crew. Where are Dominic Santini and Stringfellow Hawke? And why are you flying Airwolf?"

"Hawke is on the cockpit floor, he's been shot and is in pretty bad shape. I suppose Dominic Santini is this older guy with grey hair? He's been shot too, in the arm twice. He's here in the passenger seat but drifting in and out of consciousness."

"Well, thank God for small favours. I suppose you're one of String's students? How well can you fly?"

"I'm managing, but I can't do anything too fancy. I'm not sure I can hover this bird, either. She's a bit, well, sensitive…" Nuno's voice trailed off.

"OK. Do you think you can manage to land her at a hospital heli pad? I've got Airwolf on the tracking system here, I'm busy sending you coordinates via the onboard computer – can you see a small screen on the console just in front of your collective?"

"Yup, a map's just come up, with some coordinates and directions for bearings, etc. Hey, that's pretty cool!"

"OK, I'm right here if you need me – I'll keep this channel open. Remember Airwolf is a warship, so she's got very sensitive controls, so try and take things slowly, OK? No quick corrections," added Cait. Although she was worried about the state of both Dom and String, she was relieved that they had been found – albeit by someone she didn't know and couldn't vouch for. She hoped that Nuno had the gumption and balls to keep Airwolf in the air and land her safely. Well, she was going to try her damndest to get him to a hospital as quickly and as safely as she could. Gnawing her lower lip, she sent a quick prayer upwards for help and strength.

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Nuno breathed a big sigh of relief as the big, heavy helicopter settled on her landing gear. He had managed to land her in the middle of the big red H of the helipad. A female dressed in a camouflage jacket, red hair flying in the breeze, came running up to the passenger door of Airwolf, followed closely by a group of medical personnel pulling two gurneys behind them.

Nuno fumbled at the door catches for a good few minutes, until he finally worked out how to open the door from the inside. He stumbled out of the Airwolf cockpit and ran round to the passenger door, where Dom had already been taken off in a gurney, and Cait was helping the medics get String out of the cockpit and onto a gurney as well.

Satisfied that both her crewmates were in good hands, Cait turned to Nuno.

"Good job, Nuno. I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got to get Airwolf up and away. Are you OK?"

"That blood is Hawke's, not mine, and yeah, I'm fine."

"Let them check you over, and I'll be back. We can talk then."

Cait jumped nimbly into the pilot's seat and slammed the door shut. As Nuno allowed the remaining nurse to help him off the helipad, he heard the unmistakable sound of Airwolf lifting off and screaming away to destinations unknown.

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Epilogue

Stringfellow Hawke opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He was hot, irritable and restless. It had been close to two weeks since he had taken the bullet, and he was sick of being told what he could and couldn't do. He wanted to spend a little more time with Karen – she did spend a lot of her free time at the hospital, but hospitals were hardly conducive places to ahem, relationship-building. The edges of the wound itched like hell, and although he knew that that meant the wounds was healing, it just irritated him.

"Time for your medication, Mr Hawke."

String struggled a little to sit up on his pillows. It was getting easier, he had to admit to himself, but the last thing he wanted was to tear the wound open again. He had been very lucky, escaping with just one broken rib and loss of his spleen. None of his vital organs had been damaged, and he was slowly recovering from shock caused by blood loss. He tried to smile at the nurse, but somehow it came out as a mock grimace.

"Feeling better, Mr Hawke?"

"I'll be a lot better once I get out of here," said String, trying to keep the surliness out of his voice.

"Now, now, Mr Hawke, most patients stay in hospital for at least four weeks with a broken rib and a shot to the belly. You've only been here for about ten days."

String turned to the nurse. "Do you think if I griped more Dr Evans would let me go home - so you can all be rid of me?" he said hopefully. "Or maybe if I told him that I wanted to spend some vacation time with my girlfriend?"

"I'll see what I can do, even though I'm not sure that you should be, ahem, doing the horizontal wigglies just yet?" giggled the nurse.

"What makes you think we do the 'wigglies' horizontally?" said String dryly.

"Knock, knock!" sang Nuno's voice from the door. "You up for company, Hawke?"

"Nuno? What are you doing here?"

"Well, Maria sends her love, along with her home-made Portugese Tarts that you liked so much when you came to dinner," said Nuno, putting the plastic container on the bed beside String. "How are you doing, Hawke?"

"Hungry! The food here, is well, meat-filled, to say the least."

"Well, those little babies should keep you going for a while."

"What would I do without my Portugese connection, eh, Nuno?" said String, pulling the lid off and sinking his teeth into the flaky pastry and custard confection.

"Starve to death?"

"Yeah," said String, a big grin on his face.

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"It's been great having you here, Cait. I'm glad we had a chance to catch up," said Karen, as she perched on her kitchen counter sipping coffee.

"I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances, Karen."

"Well, at least String and Dom are OK, and you weren't hurt as well."

Cait self-consciously touched her still-tender jaw and temple, and winced as she flexed and wriggled her fingers. "I'm not sure that I can be classified as 'not hurt', but I know what you mean," she said to Karen with a matey grin.

"Under the circumstances, kiddo, I think you got off lightly, compared to what you dished out," said Dom, as he sauntered into Karen's little kitchen, yawning. "Is there any coffee lying about, ladies?"

Karen emptied the last dregs from the percolator into a big mug and set it in front of Dom. "Here you go, Dom. How's the arm?"

Dom took a big sip of coffee before he replied. "I'll live. The doc said I won't be able to fly for a few more weeks, as that bloody bullet went clean through my shoulder blade and cracked it, but luckily the other bullet didn't do too much damage. I'll be glad to get home, though."

"You homesick, Dom? Missing Everett maybe?" teased Cait.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can't a man want to sleep in his OWN bed without being teased about it? When you get to my age…"

"You get to complain a lot?" interjected Karen, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Careful, girlie, I still got one good wing!" Dom good-naturedly waved a fist at her. Turning to Cait, he said, "Actually, how are you doing, Cait? That jaw and hand still hurt?"

"A little. It's not bad, though, the bruises are fading."

"Well, from what Michael said on the phone, Angelica looks a lot worse. Apparently she's still recovering in the prison ward and will be there for a good week or two before she gets transferred to whichever maximum security place they've found for her. So you did good, girlie," Dom added softly, patting Cait on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I've owed her for a long time…and I haven't forgotten."

"So, ladies, are we heading to the hospital this morning?"

"Definitely. I'm sure String's climbing walls by now!" Karen suppressed a snort of laughter as she remembered String's reaction to the dinner he was given the night before. The expression on his face could have curdled milk when he saw that he had been given steamed rice, broccoli and meat stew. All three of them had covered their mouths and choked with laughter as the nurse's aide had asked, with a hopeful look, if everything was alright. It had taken the matron to march in and tell String that he didn't have a hope in hell of being discharged until the nurses and doctors were satisfied that he was eating properly, so he had curled his lip, picked up his fork and carefully picked his way around the meat in the stew.

"Tell you what, Karen, if you and Cait come with me to the hospital, maybe we can talk the doctor into releasing String…then Cait and I can go shopping or something and you and String can spend some time together here?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Dom. But how about I give my folks a call – they've been asking if the two of you would like to go and spend the afternoon with them?"

"Sounds good to me, what about you, Cait?"

"Only if we can go shopping tomorrow, Dom?" said Cait hopefully.

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"Oh, I've missed you, sweetheart," cooed Dom, gently patting the Engineering console.

"She's just a machine, Dom," said String from the passenger seat. It felt strange not to be sitting In his normal seat, but given that Cait would be doing most of the flying, it would be easier for her to sit in the Aircraft Commander's seat.

Cait smiled as she pulled the helmet over her newly-shorn locks. She felt a lot better than she had the last few days, and was looking forward to getting home. She had spent some nice girl-time with Karen, and hoped that String had also spent his time with Karen productively. "Ready to go, boys?"

"Yeah." String tried to sit straighter in his seat and fight his natural instincts to take the controls.

"Absolutely! Let's go, Cait!"

Cait pulled back on the collective and Airwolf lifted into the air.

There was silence for a few moments, punctuated by Cait communicating with the air traffic control tower. After what seemed to be an eternity, Cait pushed the button for autopilot and pulled the helmet off her head. She pulled on a pair of headphones and smiled as she settled back into her seat.

"So, String, what gives with Karen? You've been keeping very quiet about her," said Cait.

"Yeah, kid, what's going on? I noticed that Karen was also very quiet when you said goodbye," added Dom.

String sighed. He had expected some sort of third degree from his friends, but hadn't expected them to jump on him the minute The Lady went onto autopilot. He hesitated, fighting his natural instinct to stonewall them and tell them to stay out of his business. They were, after all, his family, and they cared about him.

"Well?" sounded Cait's irritated Texan twang in his ears.

"OK, OK, nosey parkers. We haven't made any firm plans, but Karen's going to come out to California in the next six months or so, and we're going to try and see if she'll like living in the States."

"With you?" asked Dom.

"No, with Tet. Of course, with me," drawled String sarcastically.

"How's it all going to work out, String? Your cabin's miles away from town, and she can't get there unless she swims, flies or hikes!"

"Yeah, Cait, I know, but she could always fly in with me in the morning, and have a car parked at the hangar. Then go home with me in the evening," said String.

"So is she moving in with you?" asked Dom eagerly. He had seen the spark that lit up his boy's eyes every time he spoke about Karen, and Dom really liked her.

"No, we haven't really discussed it, and I haven't asked her. Honestly, guys, I really like her, but I don't know if I'm ready for someone else to live with me, yet."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, String, you two have been together for what, almost two years now?" asked Cait. She couldn't believe that String hadn't asked her to move in with him – after all, given his track record with all the other women in his life, they had practically moved into his cabin from the get go, then got bundled out almost as unceremoniously once the relationship was over.

"Well, this one's different," mumbled String. Dom muffled his laughter as he saw the tips of String's ears glow bright red.

Dom tried to help him out. "You mean 'cos she has to give up her whole life and start again on the other side of the world?"

"Yeah."

"So you want her to be sure, if that it? 'Cos you're sure, but you don't want to put pressure on her to say yes and then she'll regret it?" Cait said in a gentler tone.

"Yeah. And she really doesn't like all this 'cloak and dagger bullshit', as she puts it. And I can see how she worried when I'm off on a mission."

"Kid, I'm sure this one's a keeper. After all, she's put up with all your shit so far, hasn't she?" guffawed Dom.

THE END