CHAPTER 2
Dominic pulled up at the Santini Air hangar expecting to see it open for business and String getting the chopper ready for the charter, but the lights were still off, doors locked, and there wasn't a soul in sight. He carefully unlocked and opened the door, on the lookout for trouble.
Papers had fallen off the desk and been strewn across the floor from some obvious struggle. The cot was out, but that wasn't what caught his attention. There were drops of sticky red blood smeared across the concrete floor, the contents of a first aid kit scattered abroad, minus band aids and gauze.
What had happened here?
The phone started ringing and Dom hurried over to answer it.
"Dom, it's String."
"Are you alright? I saw the mess and the-"
"Dr. Ruthers to the ER," he head a voice in the background say.
"You're in the hospital aren't you?!"
"Yeah, I'm at the hospital, but not in a patient kind of way. I found a girl this morning all beat up and in pretty bad shape, so I flew her up here.
"I'll be back soon, just wanted to let you know what was going on."
"Just as long as you are alright."
\A/
She blinked heavy eyelids, squinting at the bright fluorescent lighting around her. Searching the room for a familiar face, she stopped with a certain brown haired pilot who somehow seemed familiar. Those eyes, sometimes so expressive but often guarded, were something she would never forget. She couldn't place exactly how, but she knew him and that he was someone who could be trusted. So if he was one to be trusted, who exactly was he?
She thought, fighting for a name. An S- the building had something like Santini- maybe that was it…
She motioned for him to come closer. "Will you help me?" she pleaded desperately.
Help with what? What had she gotten herself into that had left in such a condition? It might be something he'd rather not be involved in, but he couldn't just abandon her either.
"I don't know what I can do to help, but I will if I can," he answered.
"When can we talk?"
When can we talk? That sounded serious.
"Why don't we wait until you're out of the hospital at least."
"I can't stay," she stated firmly.
Just his luck. He would get someone equally as difficult about hospitals as he was, and even worse, she didn't like flying - or at least not on the way here.
"It'll just be a little while," he comforted, squeezing her hand gently.
"No, I can't. There are people after me. I have to hide before they find me again."
"You'll be safe for now, and I won't leave."
"These men are dangerous," she warned, " carry guns, they'll kill me."
He self consciously made sure his own gun was well hidden. He was sure he wasn't supposed to have one in here, but who remembers to unarm when trying to bring in a difficult, to say the least, patient? And if there was really someone after her, maybe keeping it wasn't such a bad idea.
"Stay here and I'll go talk to one of the doctors about getting you discharged."
She nodded, but he doubted she really meant it.
"Stay in here."
"I will," she replied, "promise."
\A/
"She's actually not in that bad of a condition - plenty of scrapes and bruises but nothing too serious. My only major concern is that we found faint traces of LSD and peyote in her bloodstream. Not much at all, or at least not anymore, but that would be of some concern."
"About how long do you think until she can go home?"
"If she can stay under constant supervision, slightly sooner than otherwise, but we're still talking a few days at least for some observation and more tests."
\A/
"I thought I told her to stay here," Hawke said, cursing under his breath.
"I did."
Coming out of the ensuite bathroom dressed in new clothes that she had mysteriously acquired, she smiled warmly. "We can leave now, can't we?"
"Actually, they want to keep you a little longer," he replied sympathetically; he didn't want to be here any more than she did, but he didn't have any better ideas yet.
"No I can't stay, and I am leaving - with or without your help."
"What is it that you are so worried about? Obviously something is the matter but what?"
"I need to talk with you somewhere else, more private. Do you know any such place?"
"I could think of one, but it appeared to me that you don't like helicopters very much."
"Can't we get there some other way?"
"Not unless you want a very strenuous three day hike."
"Please," she pleaded. "I need help but I don't know who to turn to. Nobody wants to help me."
"Ok, fine. I know a place where we would probably be able to talk privately, except for maybe an occasional interruption from my three year old son," he added with a grin.
\A/
"Can you handle a very short helicopter ride? It would only be about ten minutes tops, but I don't have any other transportation if you want to leave right now."
"I-I think so," she responded hesitantly.
"Good. Then let's get out of here."
Swiftly kicking the rotors into motion and preparing for takeoff, String talked his passenger through the whole process and handed her the other headset. Soon they were up in the air with the irritated nurses muttering down below.
"So, since I'm taking you against your will in a helicopter and helping you escape from the hospital, do I at least get to know your name?"
"Dante Rosetti, and yours?"
"Stringfellow Hawke."
"Who?"
"Stringfellow, my parents had a thing for names, you can just call me Hawke."