CHAPTER 1

It was a busy day at Santini Air, not really because of excessive business, but because they were short staffed today. Chance had caught something then inevitably passed it on to Le, so both were home with a parent. String was trying to stay away from it as much as possible, but suspected even Dom was getting a touch of whatever it was, but he was being too stubborn to give in and working harder than even to make up for the lack of employees.

"You think you can open up again tomorrow?" Dom asked. "I don't know if the others will be in and I have a meeting with the accountant. And speaking of accountant-"

"I know, Dom. Cait's being keeping me in line and she's far worse than you ever were." He shook his head in disgust at even the thought of having to do his taxes. Accounting had never and would never be his strong point, especially after that incident with Ellie's husband the thought put him off even more. "Yeah, I'll open up."

"Thanks kid."

"No problem, now why don't I close up so you can go home and get some rest, or you'll be sick too. Opening up is one thing, but I don't think I can run it all by myself with the workload you have scheduled."

"Don't worry about me," Dominic replied, but he already saw the merit in his surrogate son's words.

\A/

String was up at the hangar again early the next morning, unlocking the door and pushing it open. Early this afternoon there was a long charter that Saint John was supposed to take if he was here; otherwise he would probably end up taking it himself. Either way, a thorough flight check had to be done, last minute maintenance, fueling, and the list went on.

A feeble knock came from the side door. Couldn't anyone see the posted hours? They weren't due to open up for another forty five minutes. Again the person knocked, then he heard a dull thud. Maybe it was Saint John and he had forgotten his key, he thought. He hadn't planned on unlocking the door yet, but if Saint John was still on the verge of being sick, he didn't need to be standing out in the cool early March air. Grabbing for his keys, he went to unlock the door. The bolt slipped over and the door opened freely, only it wasn't Saint John. Blue eyes widened in surprise; he had a bigger problem than Saint John being sick.

A brunette hair woman in her mid-thirties had crumpled onto the ground before him, covered in bruises, gashes, and blood. She had obviously passed out, but seemed to be regaining consciousness now.

She fluttered open bleary, unfocused green eyes, muttered a helpless cry, and drifted off again.

Carefully draping her limp arms around his neck and gathering her thin body into his arms, he carried her inside and set her down on the cot.

He smoothed damp hair out of her eyes and grimaced at the blood flowing generously from a cut on her forehead. He knew that head wounds always bled worse, but this one did look pretty deep. Leaving her briefly to retrieve the first aid kit, she was regaining consciousness again by the time he returned.

She didn't say anything but stared hopefully into his eyes, searching for some form of compassion, then shuttered involuntarily. A noise in the background startling her immensely, she sat bolt upright, terror and fear dancing in her golden speckled eyes before collapsing once again.

He wasn't getting anywhere like this, String decided and she wasn't looking any better yet. As much as he personally disliked the places, she needed to see a doctor. He loaded her into the Jet anger and started off toward Foxridge Medical Center.

They were making good time, but Foxridge wasn't far by helicopter either. His new passenger suddenly awoke, scrambling up and fighting fiercely compared to how weak she had seemed earlier.

Her emerald eyes were alert and full of terror as she demanded he set down right now.

"I don't like hospitals either but you need more medical help than I can give you."

"Set it down. Land it!" she screamed in command, then started clawing for the stick herself.

"Calm down," he urged, but she refused. He'd never seen someone with a fear of flying like hers in his entire career.

"Set it down or…. Or I'll jump," she threatened, sliding closer to the door and just out of reach.

"That'll hurt you a lot worse than it would me."

She glowered defiantly.

"Listen to me."

"Now," she warned.

"Fine, I'll land, just give me a second." If he could get her to relax, the hospital would only be about another minute away.

She relinquished her grip on the door but remained watchful, not allowing him any chance of trying to slide something by.

He did manage, however, to postpone his landing long enough to get to their destination where the medical personnel, after a bit of a struggle and some tranquilizers, got her in.

\A/

"Sure have to admit she wasn't what we were expecting, but with you, Hawke, I never know what to expect," Dr. Ruthers remarked. "The way you described her I thought she would at least be easy to bring in."

"Yeah. I would've walked all the way here carrying here carrying her if I had to to have avoided that."

"She didn't seem as bad off as you described her."

"When I found her she was," Hawke answered, "drifting in and out of consciousness so often I didn't even get a chance to ask what her name is. When she woke up in the Jet Ranger, she just freaked out far more than I've ever seen anyone before."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the test results tell us."