CHAPTER 2

Setting the cello back on its stand and dumping the unfinished coffee down the kitchen sink, Hawke told his wife a quick goodnight then made his way up to the loft and before long was fast asleep.

Caitlin watched him ascend the stairs silently and disappear into the bedroom. Something about him was off, she just couldn't quite place what. For the most part he seemed alright, in a pretty good mood, not sick, no obvious long lasting injuries from the last mission, but the last few days he had been a little too amiable, too willing to please simply because it was easier than to fight back. He'd been going to bed early, lately not much after she had been putting Chance to bed, and had been getting up later, and being an even more finicky eater than usual, mostly resorting to just vegetables and a little fruit because he hadn't felt like going fishing.

Dom hadn't planned a very rigorous schedule this week knowing Saint John wouldn't be there today and not sure of String's exact condition after coming back from Iran. Surprisingly, Hawke hadn't even put up much fuss over his unplanned two week vacation. To her he seemed to be acting pretty normal - a little stiff and gimped up, but that was to be expected after the workovers they had given him. He had spent a fair amount of time reading or playing his Stradivarius cello, but nothing far out of the ordinary. So what was it that made her concerns rise so? Nothing was major, just little things were off.

At least he'd be mostly grounded for the rest of the week where they could keep a better eye on him. The only other major flying planned was a long charter, but she was listed to take that one.

All he would have to do would be the daily routine flight to and from the hangar from the cabin while she was gone, and if something really was wrong or he didn't feel well Dom would let him bunk at his apartment.

She had nothing to worry about.

\A/

When Caitlin awoke the following morning, she found the other side of the bed already empty and Chance fussing in his room.

First she retrieved the toddler and started breakfast, then started the hunt for Hawke. He wasn't out front and he obviously wasn't inside the cabin, but the Jet Ranger was still waiting on the dock, so he hadn't flown off anywhere either.

Going to rescue the eggs she was about to scorch, she came across a note taped to the refrigerator saying that he had just gone out for a run and should be back in time for breakfast.

Maybe he was feeling better, she thought to herself hopefully. It had been a while since he'd even gone for a simple walk, always feeling to tired to, perhaps things were looking up after all.

Within ten minutes she had the slightly overcooked eggs, toast, and bacon for herself and Chance on the table. She had just finished pouring the coffee when Hawke came back in through the front door, breathing a little hard and sweaty but perceptibly feeling better.

"You can go ahead without me if you want. I'm going to get a quick shower then I'll be down."

"We'll wait," she told him. "Have a good run?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Not bad," Hawke answered, heading for the bathroom.

\A/

Finishing buttoning his shirt as he came down the stairs, Hawke pulled up his chair and sat down with the others, buttering his toast and adding eggs to his plate.

Chance waved his bacon, contemplated whether or not he should eat it, took a bite, then dropped the remainder which Tet quickly took care of.

"Oh boy, looks like we're raising another fish and veggies boy," Caitlin remarked. " He really is a miniature you. Did you give Dom and your parents this much trouble as a kid?"

"Nah, I was always a good little boy," Hawke replied with a grin.

"Sure you were."

"Well, I guess there was that time when Sinj and I decided to go camping for the weekend and didn't bother telling anyone our plans."

"Oh is that all?" she laughed.

"You'd be surprised at some of the things we did."

"Like what?" she challenged.

"Like when we 'remodeled' our room while our parents were out running some errands or when I fed the whole twenty pound Thanksgiving Day turkey to the dog because I didn't think it tasted very good."

"Ok. You win. Better stop now before you give him anymore ideas. I don't think he needs any more help."

"Don't want to raise a Stringfellow Jr. ?"

"To me, it looks like we already are. He's just like you in about every way possible."

"Not every way."

"Oh? How is he not them?"

"He's got beautiful eyes, just like you do."

"Yeah. Beautiful blue eyes that look just like yours."

"Alright fine. Maybe we'll just have to have another one that takes after you more."