Chapter Two.
Inside the cabin, sitting on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, a couple of beers under their belts, both men felt a little more relaxed, slouching back against the soft cushions, feet stretched out before them, crossed at the ankles.
"Cheers …." Santini raised his beer bottle and chinked it gently against Hawke's, before taking a deep pull on the contents. "That one really hit the mark …." He chuckled, regarding his young friend with critical eyes.
Inside, in the soft yellow light, it was easy for the older man to see the ravages of the past few days etched in to Hawke's handsome, chiselled features. The haunted quality in those piercing sky blue eyes, the dark circles beneath and the fine, feathery lines at the corners, indicating the lack of sleep. There was still tension in the set of his shoulders, and a little reticence in his manner, and Santini wondered if they would ever really be able to get back to where they had been before all this had happened.
Santini could not help thinking that the fact that he had had to face up to the reality that he was actually capable of killing the man he considered to be a surrogate figure, was not all that was troubling Hawke.
There was something else on his mind.
Dominic Santini took another swig of his beer and waited patiently.
"I had to about hog tie Cait to stop her from marching up here yesterday …." Santini sighed softly, recalling the concern and anxiety the Texan red head had displayed for the last couple of days, alongside her own suppressed shock and anger.
"Thanks …. I don't think I could have faced her brand of …. Reasoning …." Hawke raised his beer bottle to his lips and took a sip to hide his wry smile.
"She's still madder than a dune bug herself, kid …. Keeps muttering something about that Angelica Horn under her breath …."
Hawke could believe it.
He had seen the anger and the loathing on Cait's face, had heard the cold bitterness in her voice, when she had said: "And the daughter …. Remember she's mine …."
Hawke recalled the ominous shudder that had run down his spine.
Revenge is a dish best served cold ….
And Caitlin O'Shannessy was a formidable woman in her own right.
The whole Bradford Horn episode had affected all of them deeply, Stringfellow Hawke realised with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
He wasn't the only one who would be haunted by vivid, lurid nightmares for a while to come.
Poor Cait.
She had witnessed both Dominic Santini's death, and his own, Hawke reminded himself now.
She had watched in horror as her friend and colleague, Hawke, had coolly and calmly gunned down the man who was the closest thing to a father he had known for most of his life, and, then, a short time later, she had watched Hawke himself go through what had looked like a terrifyingly real heart attack, the drug provided by Archangel as an antidote to the mind controlling drugs and brain washing regime that had so completely transformed Hawke, kicking in and almost killing him, something that Archangel had warned her about, but which she had found distressing to witness.
Poor Cait had been convinced that he had died too.
It was going to take a very long time for her to come to terms with that.
No wonder the fiery red head wanted to deal with Angelica Horn in her own way.
The way Hawke felt about that particular creature, he would not stand in Caitlin's way.
Indeed, he would wish her every success in her endeavours.
For his part, Stringfellow Hawke had no intention of having anything further to do with that bitch Angelica.
A shiver or revulsion ran down his spine at the very thought, memories crashing unbidden through his mind, of her mouth against his own, the taste of her on his lips, her body moulded so perfectly against his own ….
"String?" Santini asked in response to the visible shudder he had just watch race down Hawke's spine, and the very sour expression on his face. "You ok?"
"Yeah …." Hawke responded, but there was something about his tone, his manner, that alerted Dominic Santini that things were not altogether right.
"String?" Santini arched an eyebrow in inquiry now, and Stringfellow Hawke let out a huge, shoulder raising sigh.
"Just another bad memory I'll have to learn to deal with …." Hawke ground out through clenched teeth, then raised the beer bottle to his lips to take a long pull of the bitter tasting liquid, but immediately it hit his stomach it gave him a sour, acidic feeling in the back of is throat and he set the bottle down.
"I'm here, kid …. If you wanna talk about it …" Santini offered, concerned by the look on his young friend's face, and Stringfellow Hawke let out another deep sigh.
It seemed to be his night for confessions.
Hawke drew in a deep, ragged breath, trying to organise his thoughts.
He had left out so much of the detail about what had happened between himself and Angelica Horn, at the briefing with Archangel, still reeling from the shock of what he had done to Dominic Santini and his body still reacting to the drugs that had flooded his system in the past few days.
Hawke had just wanted to get the hell out of there, to slink away and lick his wounds in private.
Regarding Dominic Santini now, seeing the look of understanding on his face, Hawke realised that there would never be a better time to confront his feelings.
He was going to have to face the truth sooner or later, and deal with it, if he was ever going to put it all behind him for good.
"String?"
"I feel …." Hawke shuddered again, and this time, Dominic Santini inched a little closer to the younger man and reached out to lay a reassuring hand on his knee, setting aside his own bottle of beer now.
"Whatever it is, String, you know you can tell me …."
"Yeah …." Hawke closed his eyes against the memories, but it made no difference, they were imprinted on his brain.
Hawke rose swiftly to his feet and began pacing anxiously up and down in front of the roaring fire, his features tight and pinched, shoulders tense, spine rigid, anger and indignation in every stride.
Dominic Santini waited patiently, watching in concerned silence as Hawke continued to pace, noting the anger in his stance, and the myriad of emotions marching across his usually handsome face, as he obviously searched for the right words to begin to express what he was feeling, what was going on behind those piercing, glacial, blue eyes.
"I feel …." Hawke stopped pacing, breathing hard, breath issuing through his teeth in a sharp hiss. "Defiled …." He finally spat out.
"Defiled?" Dominic Santini repeated, his frown deepening, and then, eyes grewing wide in his astonished face, suddenly, the older man realised what Hawke was talking about.
"Things got a little …. Heated between you and the girl?" His voice trailed away as Hawke span around and he saw the most murderous expression in those crystal clear eyes.
"She seduced you?" Santini guessed.
"That's the polite way of putting it …." Hawke snarled bitterly, his features twisting into something ugly and grotesque. "I'd call it …." He stopped abruptly, wondering if he was going too far.
There were some things that a man could not tell even his closest friend and ally ….
His surrogate father.
"String?" Santini prompted gently now. "You'd call it what?"
"Well …. If it were a woman, Dom …. I guess someone could make a pretty good case for …. Rape …."
"Ohmygod …."
"If I'd been in my right mind …. I know I was attracted to her, but for God's sake, we'd only just met …. If I'd been in my right mind, I'm not so sure I'd have been a …." Hawke paused to swallow down hard on the acid and bile that had suddenly risen in the back of his throat. "Willing participant …." He concluded raggedly. "Even I draw the line somewhere …."
"String …."
"You raised me to be a gentleman, Dom, to respect women, and you know I like to take my time …."
"String …." Something in Santini's voice tugged at Hawke's heart now, and he found himself walking back across the room to sit down beside Santini, reaching out to lay his hand lightly on the older man's knee.
"It's alright, Dom …. She didn't hurt me …." He assured.
It was true, as far as it went ...
At least not in the physical sense.
"But she did use me. She used sex to manipulate me and control me, to reinforce what the drugs and the brain washing, and Horn himself were drumming into the …." Hawke explained in a low voice, a look of utter revulsion on his face now.
"I was just a play thing to her, Dom, but they had me convinced that she loved me, that I loved her …. That I would, and should be prepared ... be glad, to die to protect her and her father …."
"Oh hell …."
"I don't know if I will ever feel clean again …."
Hawke's anger suddenly drained from him, leaving him feeing empty and numb, devoid of any emotion, his shoulders sagging, his hands shaking and his head bowed.
"You know, String, they got people you can talk to about this kinda stuff …." Santini reached out and laid his hand on top of Hawke's, stilling it's trembling now, drawing the younger man's sorrowful blue eyes back up to meet his own sympathetic and understanding grey ones.
"You don't have to go through it alone, String …." Santini assured, knowing that never would he be able to really understand how the young man felt at that moment.
Those bastards ….
They had messed with Hawke's mind, abused his body and played with his emotions.
No wonder the guy was in a tail spin.
"I know …." Hawke gave the older man a rueful half smile now. "I feel better just telling you …." He gave a deep sigh. "I don't know how I am supposed to feel, Dom. I don't know how I am ever going to trust myself with a woman again. If I'll ever be able to trust my feelings. I'll always be wondering, somewhere in the back of my mind, if what I am feeling is real, if I really do like a woman, and if she really likes me, or if she has some other agenda, some other purpose in mind …."
The words hung between them for a long, awkward moment of silence.
"It's all such a mess, Dom …." Hawke exhaled heavily.
"I know, kid, but we'll get through it. All of us. We got each other. You, me and Cait …." Santini reassured. "You know that we love you, and we will never judge you, String. We understand you better than you think …."
"Yeah. I love the both of you too …. But I can't help wondering if it's all worth it. So much pain and heart ache, Dom …. For what? A damned helicopter! That was what this was about. Horn wants Airwolf, and I'm not convinced that he won't rear his ugly head again, some time, some place …."
"And we'll be ready for him," Santini assured, but the younger man did not look completely convinced.
"It's still raw, String, still fresh …. When you've had time to get a little perspective back, you'll know I'm right …." Santini paused, drawing in a soft breath, raising questioning eyes to his young friend now. "But …. If you want to call it quits, walk away now, give Airwolf back to The Firm …. I'll understand. So will Cait. We'll back you all the way, whatever you decide, but if you just can't face it any more, String …. Then maybe you should follow your heart. You're the one gotta live with all of this …."
"Thanks Dom …."
"At least sleep on it, kid. Don't make any rash decisions …."
Now it was Hawke's turn to throw his friend a sardonic look, and Santini found himself smiling back at the younger man.
"What am I saying …." Santini rolled his eyes heavenward and gave a deep sigh. "It's you we're talking about, not Caitlin …. You never made a rash decision in your life …." He chuckled. "You made a few dumb ones, but they could never be classified as rash!"
"Gee, thanks …."
"You know what I mean. String …" Santini grew serious now. "You have to decide if it's worth it, worth losing yourself. You know that Cait and I are with you one hundred percent, but there are some things in this life that just aren't worth losing your life, or your self for …. St John would understand, String …. You've done more than enough. No-one could ask anything more of you than you've already done, but still you keep going ... You never gave up, even when the rest of us just couldn't bring ourselves to keep hoping in vain …. But maybe it's time to let it go, kid. You're still a young man, and you still have time to make a good life for yourself …."
"I have a good life, Dom …. I have good friends, and work I love …."
"But is it enough?"
"Yeah …. For now."
"You know, String …. I love you …. I love the man you are, full of integrity and courage, so warm and loving and fiercely protective …. I don't want to lose that wonderful man, to bitterness and cynicism and hatred …. If I thought that that might happen, String, I'd walk away, in a heart beat …."
"If I thought it would happen, Dom, I would walk away too. Like you said, there are just some things that are not worth losing yourself, your very essence ... your soul for," Hawke reached out now and pulled Santini into his arms for another swift, fierce, bear hug.
"And it won't happen, so long as I have you watching over me …. I love you, Dominic Santini …. I don't say it nearly often enough, but it is the truth. I owe what I am, in part to you, and if I never thanked you before, I do now …. You are the best surrogate father a guy could have asked for …."
"I love you too, son ... Nothing will ever change that ..." Santini assured, drawing reluctantly out of the younger man's embrace now and throwing him a lopsided grin. "At least until you run out of beer ..."