Awareness returned slowly, along with a sense of failure. He didn't have to be told if he'd been half a second quicker his partner'd still be alive.
Frustration welled, along with the pain in his head. Maybe he hadn't liked Katie LeMond much, but she'd been his responsibility.
His responsibility. Bitter amusement coursed through his veins. If he didn't know better, he'd be believing in the Hawke family curse shortly.
Hell. Maybe there was something to it, he thought, snorting in frustration. Losing String before he was even born, Sam and Nhi Huong dying, finding his father only to nearly lose him along with nearly dying himself last year. Between the getting shot and the explosions, was it any wonder he was beginning to wonder?
He groaned, shoving the superstitious thought away.
"Ah, Comrade Hawke, you've decided to rejoin us," a rough voice smirked in heavily accented English.
Briefly, confusion hazed through him as Roper tried desperately to place how the man would know his identity, before a dull certainty throbbed through him.
They'd done this before.
Surprise and panic flared the sapphire blue eyes as he caught sight of the liquid-filled syringe in the other's hand. Kicking out, he fought desperately, bound feet flailing as he struggled against the hands that held him still.
It didn't much matter as the needle found a vein and the syringe plunged home.
Grimacing, Mike shoved himself up on the pillows, glancing up at Hawke's blue eyes as he did so. "So, what exactly is it you're wanting from me, Hawke?" he asked.
Ignoring the question, String's eyes guiltily raked over his friend in the hospital bed. He shifted one lean leg against the other uneasily, propping against the windowsill. "Where's Sarah?" he demanded quietly.
Unbidden, Mike's gaze traveled the distance to the open door and back, wondering the same thing himself. Her visits had become scarcer and scarcer these past few days. Give her a few more and they'd be non-existent. Shoving aside the clench of fear in his gut, he plastered a grin he wasn't sure he believed himself on his face and jibed back, "Oh, you know, places to be, people to see…"
Dark blue eyes narrowed. "You want me to talk to her?" he asked, referring to his sister.
Mike sighed, dropping the pretense, hurt in his own blue eyes. "No. There's not really anything to say, String. We'll either work it out, or we won't." The lopsided grin he flashed his String's way was wry. "I'm not taking any bets at the moment."
The pilot shifted uneasily, feeling there was something he should say. "Look, Mike…" he began.
Rivers shook his head, his jaw tight. "Forget it Hawke," he muttered. He shrugged, getting his own emotions under control.
"Besides," he rasped. "Somehow, I doubt that's what you came to talk to me about."
Torn between the feeling he should say something, do something and worry for his son, String hesitated.
"Hawke?"
Frustration hissed through his teeth. There wasn't a doubt in his mind Roper was fast running out of time. The uneasy feeling in his gut had long since moved to panic. "Roper's missing Mike. I need you to help me find him."
Nausea rolled across his stomach, counterpoint to the pounding in his head as reality swam back into focus. It was followed almost immediately by the vision of Katie LeMond gesturing wildly to a dark-haired soldier. Voices raised in discordant harmony, he watched blearily as a gun appeared in her hand and a crimson stain blossomed across the man's chest. Eyes dulling, he collapsed as he fell.
"No," he whispered or maybe shouted, the word barely croaking past dry lips.
She swung towards him, gun in hand.
She was going to get them killed…except of course, she was already dead…struggling he fought for consciousness.
Strong hands gripped his shoulders.
The room swam, and gratefully he slid back into oblivion.
Frowning, Hawke sighed as he rifled through another stack of papers. He slapped the file down in irritation on the bed, causing the others to jump.
"What I don't get is why he was there in the first place!"
Mike shot him a reproachful look, carefully moving his leg from underneath the file.
Poised in the hospital doorway, Marella arched an eyebrow. "Maybe the question you ought to be asking is who, Hawke, not why."
His eyes narrowed. "Alright, I'll bite, Marella. Just who was he working for?"
Limping, Archangel stepped around her, closing the door behind him. He handed Hawke a slender folder, heavily redacted.
The pilot took it, his eyes never leaving Michael's face.
"Spencer Kane, head of the CIA and new head of the FIRM."
Rivers shocked blue gaze clearly registered surprise.
"Head of the FIRM? Since when?" String demanded.
The sharp click of Marella's heels echoed on the tiled floor. "Does it make a difference?"
Shoulders straightening, his jaw tightened. "No." Kane's reputation preceded him. Quite honestly, he couldn't think of anyone less suited to being in charge of Airwolf, or the FIRM.
Michael paced the room, not meeting Hawke's eyes. "According to my resources, Roper was paired with another agent named LeMond."
"LeMond? Why does that name seem familiar?" Mike queried, shifting restlessly forward in the bed.
"She's worked for us before," the deputy director replied shortly.
Rivers frowned.
"At any rate," Archangel continued, shaking off the interruption, "They were sent in to do reconnaissance on a local crime lord we have reason to suspect is moving into the arms market big time."
Hawke frowned now. "So, why Roper? He's not exactly a spy, Michael."
"Hey, wait!" Rivers broke in. "Isn't Katie LeMond the agent who got her team killed on that weapons bust that went south a couple months ago?"
Stunned blue eyes flared, as Hawke swung a horrified glance the spy's way. "Tell me he's joking, Michael!"
Archangel leveled an intense, one-eyed glare at Mike, before turning back to Hawke. "Unfortunately, no. Katie LeMond was the sole survivor of a bomb blast that took out her entire team. She stepped on a tripwire that triggered the explosion."
Hawke's shoulders straightened and his jaw tensed.
Exasperation tinged Michael's voice. "It was an accident, String. She was exonerated."
"I hope so," Hawke commented darkly. Behind him, Caitlin rose to stand beside her husband.
The two men's gazes challenged each other. "War's war Hawke. You've seen enough to realize that."
"Yeah," String replied dryly. "I have. You still haven't said why Roper."
"Kane needed a pilot. He was the one we had." Michael swung away. "Seems my other fighter pilot is still recovering from nearly getting himself blown up. A recovery that might be a hair faster if he followed doctor's orders…" he drawled, "unlike certain helicopter pilots I know."
Mike grimaced.
Hawke wasn't distracted. "Like you do any better," he retorted, referring back to Michael's command of Red Star when they'd thought Hawke dead. "Where is he now?"
Leaning heavily on his cane, the elder spy shot Marella a glance.
"Suriana."
Cait's indrawn gasp echoed in the room.
"You've got to be kidding me," Hawke snarled.
"Unfortunately, no," Marella answered. "It remains a hotbed of political unrest, perfect for the drug cartels and arms dealers."
"And who knows what else…" Mike muttered, memories of their last mission there trying to retrieve an agent and Saint John getting shot a little too fresh.
Marella shot him an irritated glance.
"You sent Roper into there?" Hawke demanded. "Does Seb know?" It was no secret along with everything else that had happened Jade had been involved in the quagmire there.
"No," Michael commented quietly. "I thought it best to keep that information above his clearance level…"
String swung on his heel, pacing the small room. He raked a frustrated hand through his hair, staring out the window. "You got any idea where he actually is?"
Marella plopped the file open on Mike's bed to an aerial photo. "We've got reports of a pretty substantial explosion here. It also happens to coincide with their last check-in."
"Of course, it does," Mike muttered.
Caitlin lifted worried blue-green eyes to String's.
He sighed heavily. "He'll have to be told. Cait may be able to fly, but if Roper's hurt, odds are good I'm gonna need help getting him out."