No Return

CHAPTER 1.…… BUSINESS

"Sir, are the plans ready?"

"They are. We start at dusk."

Heaving the last of the heavy wooden crates into the van, the suit clad man slammed the doors shut and climbed into the driver's seat.

"These'll sell quite nicely then we can all retire to our own private island with the profit we make."

"I agree. Paradise is at our fingertips."

\A/

String sat alone at the bar sipping a beer while waiting for Michael to show up. Supposedly, he was going to meet Michael in secret, but he couldn't understand why if Michael wanted to be so inconspicuous he always wore a white suit everywhere. It wasn't exactly what would be normal for a bar like this. 'Where the hell was he?' He'd been sitting in the sleazy for half an hour and still no Michael.

"Another beer."

The bartender slid another bottle down the counter. 'If he hasn't shown up by the time I've finished this one, I'm outta here. He'll just have to get himself someone else for the mission.'

Another man, commonly called Archangel at the FIRM, ambled into the bar with his beautiful assistant at his side. Hawke almost didn't recognize them; he hoped it was because of their lack of the usual all-white uniform and not the after effects of the two beer he'd just had while waiting an eternity for them to show up.

"Had to go buy a new wardrobe before you showed up? Now I know why you were so late."

"For your information, we do own clothes in other colors than white," Marella retorted.

"Sure could have fooled me."

Michael broke up the brewing fight before it could get any worse. "Hawke, if you remember, I asked you here on some business."

"I remember, but you had better get on with it because I have things to do."

"Glad to see you're so worried about the problems on the real world today," Marella started again.

"I might not need you after all."

"You made me sit in this mess that is a sad excuse of a bar for thirty minutes to tell me you don't need me!" Hawke's voice raised.

Michael tried to avoid any more attention and quieted him immediately. "If you'd let me finish, I have suspicion of a major drug run coming into the US. I might not need you because it might not be anything, but I would like to have you on stand by because I personally think it is something."

"So I'm on standby. Next time just call though it would make everyone's life easier."

Their conversation was interrupted by a heated argument on the other side if the room.

"Come on, baby, it's time to go home," the obviously drunk man slurred.

"I told you before. I'm not going home with you!" the woman tried to break his strong embrace.

"I said it's time to go!" his voice broke through the noise of the cramped room.

"I'm not going," she repeated panic evident in her voice.

He pulled her roughly toward the door despite her struggles to get free.

String halted the escape. "I believe the lady said she wasn't goin with you."

"I don't think it's any of your business," the other man shot back.

"Well I'm making it my business. She said she wasn't going with and she won't be going with you."

The drunk took a swing at Hawke. When String ducked it he went staggering backwards trying to regain his balance. String punched the man sending him crashing into a table and its surrounding chairs.

"Boy, you're going to wish you'd never met me by the time I'm through with you."

"I already do wish I hadn't met you," String retorted.

The man did manage to land a good punch at Hawke who in turn landed on the floor. Making the most of his position, he kicked the man's knees casing him to end up on the floor too, then scrambled to his feet. With one more good punch he knocked the other out.

Taking the woman by the hand he said, "I think it's time we left."

On the way back to her house she thanked him. "I really do appreciate it, Jack's not usually that violent."

"He's done that before?"

She nodded. "We used to have a relationship, but I broke it off. He wanted me with him every second of the day and I didn't have time to do anything else. Afterwards he thought he could force me to coming back to him," she explained.

He pulled into her driveway and walked her to the door. "You're sure you'll be ok here?"

"I'll be fine. I don't even think he knows where I live anymore, he always insisted on being at his house," she answered. "Is there something I can do for you, get you a drink or something?"

"Thanks, but I think I've had enough to drink for one day. If you don't mind I would like to use your phone though."

"Sure, no problem." She led the way to the phone in her kitchen.

He called for a taxi to take him back to the bar where he had left his motorcycle. "I'd better get going," he excused himself before the bitter purple bruise on his cheek could get any worse.

"Alright then, I'll see you around, just hopefully not under the same circumstances."

"Yeah, see you." He closed the door behind him and waited for his taxi to show up. Arriving back at the bar, he paid the driver and mounted his own ride.

Caitlin was waiting when he got back to the hangar. "Where have you been?"

"Business."

"Michael?"

"Well, sort of," he offered no further explanation.

"So?" she asked impatiently.

"So what?"

Noticing the bruise on his left cheek, "what happened?" she asked.

"We're on standby."

"No, I mean about your cheek."

"Oh," he sad unconsciously lifting a hand to his bruised cheek then pulling it away abruptly as soon as it hit the bruise. "It's nothing."

"Sure, nothing ever is. Now go get cleaned up before Dom and Saint John come back."

"Yes mam," he said with a mock salute.

"Business with Michael not go well?" Dom asked upon entering the hangar and seeing the dark bruise contrasted against tanned skin.

"Yeah, leave it to my brother to turn a simple business matter into a bar room brawl," Saint John quipped.

"String?" Dom said with a fatherly stare, "wish to explain what he's talking about?"

"Not really," he declined.

Dom's frown only increased, "It wasn't really a question."

"Michael took forever to show then a girl on the other end had some problems and I took the liberty of helping her."

"And?" Dom asked expecting more, "I assuming she wasn't the one that slapped you."

"Her ex had a few problems with me interrupting their conversation."

"You did feel the need to even tell me you were meeting in that sleaze bucket?"

"I told Saint John, besides it would have looked like a damn convention if we all went and it was supposed to be held in secret." Hastily he changed the subject. "Where's Le?"

"He's at a friend's house," Saint John answered, "just don't forget about your promise. I don't think he'll like it if you back out again, mission or not."

"I didn't back out," String said defensively.

"A date which you canceled because of a mission counts as backing out to him."

" I said I would take him before school starts back up, that's all I promised. Now just get off my back about it; I'll take him."