Laughter rang out over the clearing outside the mountain cabin and was carried away on the breeze over the shimmering lake. It startled the eagle flying overhead and it whirled away with a harsh cry. Stringfellow Hawke glanced up at his unhappy avian neighbour and sent a silent apology. For a long time, he and the eagle had lived in solitude on the mountain but things had definitely changed for Hawke. He lowered himself to the bottom step of the cabin and slid his arm around Caitlin. The redheaded pilot grinned at him for an instant before her attention returned to the baby in her arms; their son, Nicky. Hawke was unable to resist leaning over and tickling his son's cheeks. The resulting gurgle sounded like a chuckle to him. Contentment stole over Hawke as he allowed his blue eyes to drift.

A shout had his gaze shooting across to the far side of the clearing where an impromptu volleyball game was being contested. On one side, a young girl with flowing blond hair was exchanging high fives with her female team-mates, her step-mother Marella and Hawke's sister, Sarah. On the other side of the net, Sarah's son, Chris was receiving a consoling pat on the back from his Uncle Saint John while their team-mate, Mike Rivers contested the call with Saint John's girlfriend, Jo Santini, who was acting as umpire.

'Who's winning?' Hawke asked idly.

'The girls.' Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III noted. He rubbed his moustache thoughtfully. 'Another two points and the game will be over.' There was an underlying glee in his voice; his daughter and new wife were on the winning side. He ruffled the fur of the brown chocolate Lab sat beside the camping stool he had commandeered.

'Told you.' Caitlin said with satisfaction. She grinned at her husband. 'That'll be ten dollars you owe me.'

Hawke's eyebrow quirked upwards. 'You haven't won yet.' He pointed out dryly.

'We will.' Caitlin said confidently as she adjusted her hold on Nicky.

'She's right.' Michael said as the male team lost another point.

'Hawkes never give up.' Hawke commented. As though to underscore his point, Chris executed a perfect shot and serve returned to the men. Hawke's lips twitched as he caught Caitlin's rueful gaze. She stuck her tongue at him.

Michael hid his amusement at their exchange and cleared his throat. 'I've been meaning to say thank you to the both of you.'

'What for?' Caitlin asked surprised.

'For today and welcoming us back.' Michael's gaze landed on Marella who turned as though she sensed his regard and smiled at him brightly before she was pulled back into the game. He sighed and turned back to Caitlin. 'And for everything you did at the wedding last week. If it hadn't been for the two of you rescuing Marella we might not have had one.' The thought of how close he had come to losing his bride sent a shiver down his spine.

Hawke shifted his position a little uncomfortable with the praise even if it was deserved. 'You'd have done the same for us.'

Michael smiled at the complete certainty in Hawke's voice. Their friendship was still a revelation to Michael in many ways but one that he had come to appreciate and even rely upon. Assigning Hawke to recover Airwolf, the most technologically advanced and only mach-capable helicopter in the world had been one of his better decisions, Michael mused. Although he would never have guessed that, three years later, the entire Airwolf project would be a government sanctioned operation under the Department of Defence. He pushed his glasses up his nose, his finger briefly touching on his ever-present eye-patch.

The project was going well; an ex-NSA agent Robert Delaney ran the Washington side and dealt with the politics leaving Michael to run day-to-day operations out of Red Star. Michael in turn gave a great deal of latitude to Hawke who flew Airwolf with the able assistance of Caitlin and Mike Rivers who was a talented Air Force major. They were going to have to think about training a second team, Michael thought idly as he watched the volleyball game. An updated version of Airwolf was almost ready for missions and he didn't want to place it solely in the control of the artificial intelligence that Airwolf had developed in the past year. It was a pity in some respects, he considered, that Saint John and Jo had decided to concentrate fully on Santini Air, the air service once owned by Hawke's late surrogate father and mentor, Dominic Santini.

The thought of the old pilot lifted Michael's lips into a reluctant smile. Dom had died the year before in a helicopter explosion but his ghost continued to haunt the spy regardless. In truth, Michael didn't really mind; there was something comforting in knowing Dom was still around helping them all. His eye flickered to Hawke. He'd never told the younger man about Dom's visitations. Initially it had been because he had believed they were hallucinations brought on by concussion but it was hard to deny the truth of them when Dom kept showing up…either that or Michael really was going mad. He choked on the thought and hurriedly took a sip of his drink.

'We should bring out the food.'

Caitlin's comment broke Michael's chain of thought and he glanced over at her. She was placing the baby in his carrier in preparation for getting to her feet.

Hawke tore his gaze away from the game and nodded. 'I'll give you a hand.'

'Can you watch Nicky, Michael?' Caitlin asked as Hawke helped her to her feet.

A faint hint of nerves flitted in and out of Michael's good eye but the spy nodded his agreement as the couple headed indoors. He looked warily at the sleeping child.

'You know I thought you'd be OK watching him by now.'

Michael refused to be startled at Dom's cheery voice. He deliberately took his time turning around to greet the ghost. Dom was sat on a nearby log. He looked to all intents and purposes exactly the same as he had in life with the same paunchy stomach, same grey wispy hair and the same wide gap-toothed smile. 'Hello, Dom.' He frowned. 'What are you doing here?'

'Can't a man stop by and check up on his family?' Dom retorted. He waved at the volleyball game and his eyes warmed at the sight of his niece. 'Ah. Doesn't she look good? And she and Saint John make a great couple.'

Michael refrained from comment. His own somewhat tumultuous relationship with Hawke's brother had settled into a truce and he was happy to admit that he had no deep opinion about Saint John's burgeoning romance.

Dom didn't seem to mind his lack of input, continuing on regardless. 'Angelina's growing up so fast.'

'Yes. She is.' Michael noted wistfully as he watched Angelina play. He couldn't argue with the pilot. His daughter was growing up fast; she would be twelve before the year was out and he could hardly believe it.

'Cherish these moments, Michael.' Dom said solemnly. 'You don't get another chance.'

Michael's gaze snapped back to Dom and his brow creased with concern at the sober look on Dom's craggy face. 'Are you OK, Dominic?'

Dom stirred and shook himself a little. 'Ignore me, Michael. I was just thinking about Sally.'

Dominic's daughter, Michael remembered; the one who had died without ever really knowing her father. He endeavoured to change the subject. 'Aren't you taking a big risk being here?' He asked.

'You're the only one who can see me.' Dom said dismissing his concerns with a huff of laughter. 'If anyone notices anything, it'll be you talking to yourself.'

'Thanks, Dominic.' Michael said dryly. 'That's just…'

'Talking to yourself, Michael?'

Hawke's voice caught him by surprise and he inwardly lamented the pilot's ability to sneak up on people.

'See?' Dom laughed and slapped his thigh.

Michael sighed and gestured at Hawke. 'Just thinking out loud.'

The pilot shrugged and began setting out the picnic blankets that he had brought out. 'What about?'

Dom sniggered and Michael shot him a look. Hawke caught the end of it and his blue eyes moved to the log curiously as Michael covered with a non-committal response.

'You need a hand?' Michael asked hurriedly as Hawke's gaze returned to him.

'Sure.' Hawke handed him the final picnic blanket and headed back indoors.

'That was your fault.' Michael hissed when he was certain Hawke was out of earshot.

Dom shrugged unconcerned. He sobered, his face turning grave. 'It's going to start soon, Michael.'

'What?' Michael asked absently as he laid the final blanket on the ground.

'Christmas,' barked Dom, 'what do you think I mean? I mean the showdown with Cordelli.'

Michael glared at Dom who glared right back at him.

'When?' asked Michael as he glanced around anxiously to check no-one had noticed his behaviour.

'Soon.' Dom reiterated. 'He's going to need you, Michael. He's going to need everyone.'

Michael felt a chill of apprehension down his spine as he took in Dom's grave face.

'What is going on with you?' Hawke asked bluntly from behind him.

Michael started. He hadn't heard Hawke approach again. 'Sorry.' Michael brushed a hand through his floppy white blond hair as he met Hawke's concerned blue eyes with a rueful look. He glanced back at the log; Dom had disappeared. Typical, Michael thought derisively.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.' Hawke commented as he set down the crockery and cutlery he had brought out.

'Do I?' Michael murmured.

'Yeah.' Hawke gestured at him. 'You're as white as the suits you usually wear.'

'I'm fine.' Michael said plunging his hands into the pockets of the beige pants he was wearing instead of the three piece white suit which was his normal attire.

Hawke gave him a dubious look but went back into the cabin.

Michael sat down with a sigh of relief and rubbed his moustache thoughtfully. Dom's cryptic comments were one of the things about his visitations that drove him crazy. Not that the comments sometimes didn't have an element of truth in them. It kept him in reflective mood as the volleyball game drew to a close and the picnic began.