Chapter One.
Santini Air Hangar, Van Nuys, California
Thursday 15th March, 1984.
"Hey, String, don't ya think you should be getting ready?" Dominic Santini hollered from the office doorway, directing himself to the younger man sprawled beneath an OH-6 Cayuse/MD 500 Hughes Helicopter on the other side of the hangar.
The sound of hammering increased and Dominic Santini could not help smiling to himself, as he slowly counted to five and waited for the younger man to yelp out in pain, as he smashed the monkey wrench into his fingers.
"Owwww!" Muttering and cursing under his breath, Stringfellow Hawke crawled out from beneath the Hughes, grimacing as he shook his mangled fingers to relieve the pain.
"Oh String …." Dominic Santini sang out, knowing that there was no way that his young friend could ignore him now. "Don't you have some place to be?"
"I am some place right now, Dom …." Hawke growled, still grimacing in pain as he flexed his knuckles. "Here …. And I've got work to do …."
"Oh is that what you're doing, I thought it was some new fangled disco dance …." Santini chuckled. "Move over John Traviata ..."
"Travolta, Dom …. It's John Travolta …." Stringfellow Hawke sighed deeply.
"Whatever …. You gonna go wash up, or are you going looking like that?"
Hawke looked down at his grease stained coverall and pulled a sour face.
"Not going anywhere …." He remained defiant.
"Oh really …." Santini arched an eyebrow.
"There's too much to do here …." Hawke pointed out.
"Bulldust …. And a promise is a promise, Stringfellow Hawke …." Santini reminded. "You promised Bob Rutherford that you would do this …. And now you're gonna let down all those kids …. I thought I raised you better than that …." He sighed his disappointment.
Again Hawke pulled a sour face.
He did not need to be reminded of the promise he had made to his old Army buddy. Rutherford had pulled out all the emotional blackmail stops, worked him over good and proper so that Hawke had had no choice but to agree to what his old buddy was asking.
Rutherford was married to a History teacher and she had persuaded her husband to round up as many of his old Army buddies from Vietnam as he could, to come to her school to talk to the kids as part of their history project on the Vietnam war.
Many of the kids in the school had father's who had served in 'Nam …. Even died in 'Nam, and Sophie Rutherford had persuaded her husband that it would be good for all the kids to really understand what had happened to the boys who had gone off to war.
Stringfellow Hawke hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking that it would have been far more educational to take the kids down to the VA Hospital and let them see what glorious war did to a man's body …. And mind …. However, he had wisely kept these thoughts to himself.
Rutherford had saved his most ardent powers of persuasion for Stringfellow Hawke ….
Because Hawke could put the icing on top of the cake …. by making it possible for them to arrive at the school in a Huey helicopter.
Rutherford had caught Hawke at a bad time …. He had been distracted and had really only agreed so that it would get the other man off his back.
Now, he regretted his hasty decision.
It was true that there was a backlog of work at the hangar, essential maintenance which he and Dom had been neglecting these past few weeks ….
Since their return from Libya, with a certain piece of highly sophisticated, and much sort after hardware.
Maintaining Airwolf, setting up the Lair and stocking it up with equipment and weaponry …. and flying missions for Michael Coldsmith Briggs III had threatened to take over ….
But Hawke had been glad for the distraction and for the fact that working two jobs at least allowed him to get tired enough so that he could sleep nights.
At least his sleep was dreamless these days.
No nightmare images of his brother, St John, being left behind in that steaming Vietnamese jungle ….
And no heartbreaking images of Gabrielle ….
As she had lay dying in his arms, telling him that she had thought about him and the eagle, even as Dr Charles Moffett had left her in the heat of the Libyan Desert without water, her body broken and scorched by the relentless desert sun ….
Since they had been back, Hawke had deliberately kept himself so busy that he could not think about Gabrielle …. And was so bone weary when he did tumble in to bed he slept so deeply he did not dream.
It made no difference ….
The image was burned into his brain permanently. He only had to close his eyes and he could see her ….
His temper had been on a short fuse for weeks now and he had never been very big on tact and diplomacy. The very last thing he felt like doing right now was dealing with a bunch of curious kids, who would want to crawl all over the chopper, and maybe even expect him to take them up for a joy ride.
But ….
As Dominic had said ….
A promise was a promise ….
And Stringfellow Hawke prided himself on keeping his word.
Damn.
Hawke picked up an oily rag and wiped his hands carefully on it, his skinned knuckles still stinging, then he threw the rag down on the floor and walked back across the hangar, giving Dominic Santini a pointed look, but nothing more was said, and with a smile of satisfaction, Dominic Santini returned to the office to finish off sorting through the pile of paperwork on his desk.
Fifteen minutes later, a stern faced Stringfellow Hawke, freshly showered and clad in a crisp, clean US Army dress uniform, pale khaki shirt and cap, epaulettes shining brightly in the mid morning California sunshine and shoes shined to within an inch of their life, stalked across the hangar and climbed into the Santini Air jeep he often drove.
He slipped on his flying shades, turned the ignition and revved the engine noisily before heading out across the airfield, his destination Heatham Air Base, situated about an hours' drive south of Los Angeles, for the second time in about six weeks ….
When it had been closer to ten years since he had last worn the uniform and walked on military property ….
And he would willingly go another ten years before he had to do either again after today ….
Back in January, at the behest of Michael Coldsmith Briggs III, he had had to return to military life, if only briefly, under cover posing as an Army pilot on an exchange programme with the USAF and although there had been some pleasant moments during his brief stay there, mostly his time at Heatham had reminded him most of what he had hated about being an army flyer ...
And here he was, going back ….
He was due to rendezvous there with Bob Rutherford and the others and to collect the authentic US Army Huey helicopter that Rutherford had promised he could get for the day's adventure, and which was currently on loan to the USAF for training purposes.
He gritted his teeth and floored the gas pedal as he hit the highway south …. Wondering if a speeding ticket would be a suitable excuse for not turning up ….
But even as he was tempted ….
His own personal Jiminy Cricket began to whisper in his ear ….
Sounding uncannily like Dominic Santini ….
"A promise is a promise, Stringfellow Hawke … I thought I raised you better than that."
Thursday 15th March, 1984.
Park High School, Los Angeles.
Stringfellow Hawke's head was pounding and his patience was almost at its end.
The guys hadn't stopped yakking since he had rendezvous'd with them at Heatham and they had piled into the Huey, jokingly patting him on the back as all three of them felt the need to check that he remembered how to get the chopper off the ground.
His scowl and tense silence had caused much mirth on the brief flight, as Parker, Knowles and Rutherford had joked about the good old days in 'Nam.
Lately all Hawke's memories of that war had been far from happy.
He kept his mouth shut and concentrated on guiding the chopper in over the inner city school, where a crowd of children were eagerly awaiting their arrival in the yard.
Sophie Rutherford, a plump, homely woman with a wide smile and a cheery disposition, greeted all four men with a huge smile and swift, hard hugs and then started to introduce them to her colleagues on the staff at the school.
Stringfellow Hawke tried to concentrate on the introductions, but he was keenly aware of the proximity of the kids and their excitement at having a real helicopter parked in their school yard. He needed to be vigilant, just in case they decided to break lines and swarm over the Huey.
He shook hands with several people whose names he instantly forgot as he moved along the reception line behind Ted Parker and Don Knowles, but as he scanned the line to see how much longer it was going to take before they could go inside and begin their lecture on the Vietnam war, Hawke suddenly became aware of a young woman standing slightly apart from the other teachers at the end of the line ….
Behind his flying shades, his eyes narrowed in surprise as he instantly became aware that there was something familiar about her ….
She was trying to console a child who seemed to be more upset by the arrival of the helicopter and the uniformed men than the others, a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder as she bent slightly to speak softly into her ear.
Hawke found himself wanting to get a better look, and so he peeled off his shades, and just at that moment, the woman turned around to face the approaching men.
Hawke found himself doing a double take.
And could not mistake the startled expression that crossed her face …. nor the slight widening of her brown eyes, in instant recognition of him too.
Hawke felt a tightness begin in the centre of his chest.
It seemed like he was destined to continue to keep coming face to face with the past.
Old ghosts ….
Tasha ….
"Hawke …." Stringfellow Hawke was rudely returned to the present by a quick jab in the ribs from Bob Rutherford. "You still with us, buddy?"
"Sure …." Hawke responded, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from the young woman.
"Sophie was just reminding us to mind our manners …." Rutherford grinned. "And remember, Hawke, they're just kids …."
"And we're here to glorify war for them …." Hawke scowled.
"That's not why we're here at all …. But some of these kids lost their fathers and their uncles out there …. It can't hurt to make them feel good about what their folks were fighting for …."
"What were we fighting for?" Hawke drawled sardonically.
"Freedom."
"Amen to that brother …." Knowles and Parker responded in unison.
"What's wrong with you, Hawke, you look like you swallowed a quart of lemon juice …." Rutherford joked.
"He always looked like that …." The other two men chuckled. "Could frighten Charlie from sixty feet up with that look on his face …."
"Ok guys …." Sophie stepped in now, obviously feeling that Hawke needed rescuing from the good natured ribbing. "Maybe String just doesn't feel comfortable around kids …." She pointed out, but the look she threw at her husband told him that he should remember what had happened to the Hawke brothers and that the younger Hawke sibling might not have quite so many happy memories of Vietnam.
Stringfellow Hawke let out a deep sigh.
He didn't need her sympathy.
He just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge ….
Seeing his increasing discomfort, Sophie Rutherford slipped her arm into his, and before he could protest, guided Hawke toward the end of the line.
"There's someone else you should meet …." She chattered gaily. "Alexandra, honey …. don't run off, I've got someone here you should meet …."
Before he knew it, frowning and taken slightly aback, because he could have sworn that Sophie had called the young woman by a different name to the one he remembered …. Stringfellow Hawke had Sophie Rutherford's hand pressed in the middle of his back and was being pushed toward the young woman.
"Stringfellow Hawke, this is Alexandra Beecham …. Oh, I'd better go make sure Bob has his notes …." And with that Sophie Rutherford hurried away toward where her husband and the other two Army veterans were chatting with a group of teachers from the school.
Subtle, Sophie …. Very subtle …. Hawke thought, his heart constricting in his chest as he forced himself to settle his gaze on her familiar face, his hand outstretched in greeting.
"Hello …. Alexandra ….?"
"Hello Hawke …." She held his gaze with steady deep brown eyes. Well at least she wasn't trying to deny that she had recognised him.
"Fancy seeing you here …."
"Yes …. Fancy …. Quite a coincidence …. How long has it been?" Her voice hadn't changed, soft and melodic and pitched somewhere between soprano and contralto ….
And neither had that wonderful English accent of hers …. Not quite the upper crust, plum in the mouth accent affected by royalty, but also not the abrasiveness of the London cockney ….
It had always delighted him …. Sent shivers of anticipation and excitement down his spine.
Middle England ….
Home Counties ….
Her rich chestnut coloured hair was a little longer than he remembered, the sun picking out hints of gold and red as it fell around her shoulders in soft natural curls, and her English rose complexion now had a healthy touch of California sunshine.
Her figure seemed to have filled out a little ….
At five feet five inches tall, she had always been as skinny as a boy, but she appeared to have gained a little weight, giving her a more feminine shape ….
It suited her ….
The pretty white sundress that she was wearing was clinging to her womanly curves in a most alluring manner ….
And her eyes were a warm sherry colour, sparkling with amusement he realised as he caught himself staring at her.
That was when Hawke realised that he should be angry right now … not feeling like some dumbstruck kid, his palms sweating and his heart doing somersaults in his chest.
The smile slid from his face and he threw back his shoulders and stood ramrod straight, dropping his hand before she had a chance to shake it.
The spark of amusement instantly disappeared from her lovely eyes and was replaced by ….
Disappointment ….
Hurt ….
Acceptance.
"You know how long, Tasha …."
"Alex …." She corrected, something in her eyes begging him not to contradict her, but to just play along with her and again he frowned.
"Alex …. More than two years …." He growled.
Two years, four months and two weeks …. She thought silently, still rocked by the sight of him ….
But who's counting….
November 26th 1981 ….
A life time ago ….
In another life ….
"What the hell happened to you …." He hissed.
"Let's not do this, Hawke …." She smiled softly, her eyes now beseeching him not to make a scene.
"Yes …. Lets …." He snarled.
"All right …. But not now …. Later …." She persisted, the look in her eyes warning him that they were drawing curious glances from his friends and her work colleagues and that she did not appreciate being made to look so …. conspicuous ….
The centre of attention.
"Please …." She implored softly. "Not here …."
The look she gave him told him that she did not want to have to explain why things had become so tense between them so suddenly.
They were meant to be strangers ….
That she didn't want her colleagues to know that she knew Hawke from the past, because that would mean answering some awkward questions about how they had met …. And where ….
"We'll be going inside in a moment …."
"I waited for you …." He lowered his voice and pinned her with a steady blue gaze.
"I'm sorry, String …." She sighed softly, her expression clouding into irritation. "I'm sure it's not the first time you were ever stood up …."Her tone was icy now.
"You couldn't call?"
"Hawke, please …." She hissed through clenched teeth, her gaze drifting past his shoulder now. "Sophie is coming …. Please don't spoil this for her …. For the kids …."
"Later …."
She merely blinked in an affirmative response.
Stringfellow Hawke took in a deep breath and expelled it as a deep sigh, knowing that he wasn't going to get the answers he sought right then and was relieved when Sophie Rutherford drew up at his side and told him that they were ready to begin, taking his arm once again to draw him away, and Alexandra Beecham used the opportunity to return to her students, desperately trying to hide the tears which were suddenly welling in her eyes.
Stringfellow Hawke ….
Damn him ….
Looking just as handsome and arrogant and healthy and beautiful as she remembered ….
And angry ….
A justifiable anger, she knew ….
And hurt ….
That was justifiable too ….
Had she been the cause of that haunted, pained look in those beautiful blue eyes ….
Or had he been touched by tragedy once again more recently?
The other teachers were leading their classes into the school gym now, ready to attend the lecture that the Army veterans were about to give, and taking her cue from Sophie Rutherford, Alexandra Beecham led her class into the gym and then stood at the back, inching her way back toward the exit so that at the first opportunity she could slip out and get some fresh air.
She needed time to think.
She needed time to get over the fact that he was here ….
Large as life and seething with anger.
And still as stubborn as a jackass ….
And still having this crazy effect on her ability to think …. and command her limbs!
She owed him an explanation ….
But she knew that he wasn't going to like it.
She had no idea how she was going to handle the situation ….
Just how much she should tell him ….
Dammit ….
She didn't need this kind of distraction right now ….
Had other more important things on her mind …. Things to do with her job …. The kids in her class.
She needed a clear head and all her powers of concentration ….
Not his wonderful, handsome face haunting her mind, dominating her thoughts ….
She did not have to wait long for an opportunity to make her exit. Casey, the young girl she had been trying to calm down outside, before Sophie had brought Hawke over, was becoming more and more agitated, anxious no doubt over the fate of her twin brother, Chris, and fearing that she would break down completely and cause a scene, Alex decided to take the child out of line.
Quietly and discreetly, Alex coaxed the girl to follow her out of the gym, forcing herself not to look back at the stage, where she knew Hawke would be watching her, stone faced and accusingly.
From the centre of the stage, Stringfellow Hawke watched as the woman he had known as Natasha Banks …. Now, Alexandra Beecham, slipped out of the back exit and his heart sank.
So close ….
He was so close to discovering what had happened almost two and a half years ago ….
But he couldn't go after her, no matter how much he wanted to because Bob Rutherford had begun to speak, introducing his colleagues on the stage, and Hawke knew that he was stuck there until the end of the lecture.
All he could do was hope that she wouldn't just disappear into thin air once more, leaving him with still more questions and no answers ….
The lecture took just over an hour, with Hawke being called on to add his thoughts and comments at the end, before inviting the teachers and students to take a closer look at the Huey parked in the school yard.
All the time he was showing the kids and their teachers around the chopper, Hawke kept an eye open for Alexandra Beecham, but there was no sign of her in the yard and he could feel his temper beginning to simmer.
By the time the group of Army officers were ready to leave, Hawke knew that Natasha …. Alexandra …. Whoever the hell she was calling herself these days …. had somehow managed to evade him, but as she came to give him a quick hug goodbye, Sophie Rutherford pressed a piece of paper into his hand.
"Alexandra asked me to give you this …." She told him with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile. "She got caught up in a nasty piece of disciplinary stuff with the Principle in the office …. Something that happened earlier in the day, but it had to be dealt with …." She explained.
"Couple of the boys got into a dust up in the yard and one of them ended up with a knife in his leg …. Do you believe that …. Very messy …. Both kids are in Alexandra's class, so she had to deal with it. The Principle has both sets of parents in the office right now." The expression on her face told Hawke that it could turn out to be a lengthy meeting and that Sophie did not envy Alexandra the task of supporting the boys whilst also having to support the Principle's decision and the school's policies.
"Thanks …." He waited for Sophie to withdraw, returning to give her husband a kiss of thanks, despite the fact that the need to see what Tasha had written was killing him.
Her neat handwriting filled barely two lines on the scrap of paper.
The note contained a telephone number and a brief message:
Call me later …. I'll meet you somewhere quiet and we can talk …. I won't let you down …. It was good to see you again …. Tasha.
I won't let you down ...
Too late ….
She already had ….
Another broken promise ….
And now, maybe, he was going to find out why ….
He couldn't help reading the last line over again.
It was good to see you again ….
Yeah.
Right.
"Hey buddy …."Bob Rutherford came to join him and slid a friendly arm around his shoulder, interrupting his reverie. "Time to get the birdie back, or they'll be sending the big guns after us …." He grinned. "Thanks Hawke …. I owe ya …. Big time …."
"Yeah …." Hawke growled.
"Come to dinner some time …. And bring Alex …." Rutherford smirked and Hawke scowled at him, slipping his shades back on. "You always did have good taste, buddy …. Just lousy luck with the ladies …."
"Yeah … right …." Rutherford didn't know how close to the truth he had come, Hawke thought ruefully. However, Hawke felt sure that Rutherford was referring to the fact that he was still single, although he had reached the grand old age of thirty four, and that he hadn't had a really long term relationship ever ….
Not to the fact that every woman Hawke had ever loved …. Had died ….
"I saw the way you looked at her, Hawke …. And I saw the way she looked at you too …." He gave Hawke a knowing wink. "Funny that, because Sophie's always throwing guys at her, and she never once took the bait …." He grinned again. "My wife the Matchmaker …. Must be the uniform …. Dang if you don't still look terrific in it …." He patted his own slightly rotund stomach, straining now against the shiny buttons of his dress uniform jacket. "Personally I'll be glad to put it back in mothballs …. You go get the Huey warmed up and I'll round up the guys …. Promised to have that baby back by five pm and I don't want Colonel Ross reporting it AWOL …."
Hawke watched Rutherford cross the school yard with a frown, unable to stop himself from wondering just how long the Rutherfords' had known Natasha Banks …. Alexandra Beecham ….
Had she really been so close all this time?
So close ….
And what the hell was the name change all about anyway?
So near ….
When all the time he had been led to believe that she was half way across the world ….
At least she hadn't tried to deny that she remembered him ….
He couldn't stop thinking about her, even as he meticulously went through his pre-flight instrument check, waiting for Knowles and Parker and Bob Rutherford to bid the teachers farewell and climb aboard the Huey ….
And as he lifted off from the school yard and pointed the chopper back toward Heatham, the kids happy cheers still ringing in his ears, Stringfellow Hawke suddenly realised that he hadn't thought about Gabrielle the entire time he had been there ….
By the time Stringfellow Hawke returned to the Santini Air hangar, Dominic Santini was getting ready to close up for the night. The harsh set of the younger man's features was warning enough to Santini that his mood was not pleasant and he wisely decided to keep his counsel and wait for Hawke to tell him what had happened at the school.
"You going up to the cabin tonight?" He asked in a neutral voice as he watched Hawke neatly fold his cap and stow it in his locker.
"No." Was Hawke's succinct response.
"You're sleeping here tonight? Ok …. Then you can lock up. I'm beat …. I got a hot date with a bucket of pop corn, a couple of cans of beer and an old John Wayne movie …." Dominic smiled at his young friend, but Hawke merely nodded in reply.
"You ok?" There was concern in the older man's voice, and genuine warmth in his gentle blue/grey eyes now, but again Hawke merely nodded. "Right then …. I'm outta here …. Don't stay up too late …. 'Night."
"Night Dom …."
After stripping out of his uniform and showering again, Hawke donned jeans, a pastel blue shirt and a thin white sweater, white socks and soft tennis shoes and went back out into the hangar to check that the main doors were secured before retiring to the office with a mug of strong black coffee.
He sat down at Dom's desk and stared at the telephone, his fingers playing with the scrap of paper that Sophie Rutherford had given to him ….
He didn't need to look at it, he knew the telephone number and the message off by heart already ….
He sat back from the desk and propped his feet up on the corner, crossing them at the ankles as he let his head drop back a little and let out a deep sigh.
Throughout the long drive back from Heatham Air Base, Hawke's mind had been filled with images of the past ….
Interlinked with images of the present.
He seemed to have come full circle.
The past really was catching up with him ….
It seemed that the return of Airwolf into his life was also bringing other things to a head.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, working at the tension and the small ache that was lodged there.
His mind had been filled with images of his time spent at the Red Star Lab, out there in the California desert at Devil's Anvil, during the long but exciting days he had spent learning more and more about Airwolf ….
Working closely with all the scientists involved in her development, including Dr Charles Moffett and the small team of specialist computer scientists that he had brought with him from his native England ….
Amongst them, one Dr Natasha Banks.
She had been so young ….
Barely twenty, he recalled ….
And he was so much older ….
Thirty one ….
But it wasn't just the years ….
He had seen and done things that had changed him forever …. been to places that she could only dream of ….
He had been so determined to keep his mind on the project that it had taken about six months before he had really noticed that she always seemed to be around.
She loved her work, programming the Super Mach 1 helicopter's onboard computer systems, teaching Airwolf to speak the several different computer languages that controlled all her critical systems …. Guidance …. Weaponry …. Targeting …. Defence ... Communications …. Radar ….
Explaining that these systems had to be completely independent of each other …. Had to have different languages, so that they didn't accidentally counter command each other and over ride critical instructions. It wouldn't do at all she had told him, somewhat tongue in cheek, to have the Targeting system suddenly tell the Guidance systems to change course …. Sending him into orbit in pursuit of a spy satellite ….
Better that they speak gibberish to each other ….
As he spent more time at Red Star than the other test pilots involved in the project, Hawke got used to seeing the slender, almost emaciated, geeky kid, always sitting before a computer screen, fingers dancing swiftly and accurately across a computer keyboard, imputing data into the mainframe and the onboard computers, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on her work.
He was impressed with her dedication.
She worked well into the early hours of the morning and was there again at her desk, alert and ready to begin bright and early again the next morning.
As his training had progressed, Hawke found himself working more closely with the computer systems team, and in particular, Natasha Banks. She was also responsible for programming different flight scenarios into the simulator's computers, and somehow always managed to come up with some ingenious new way to test both his mental abilities and his flying skills ….
He had a good deal of respect for her ….
Suspecting that she also had the skills and experience of a good pilot, learned from an early age ….
She certainly had a deep understanding of the kind of reactions a pilot might be called upon to use, and the unusual solutions he might have to pull out of the hat to save his crew and his aircraft.
She also came up with several clever ways of killing him ….
Hawke had enjoyed pitting his wits against her.
When they worked together, he always found it more challenging ….
A good mental and physical work out ….
But he knew that she wasn't just testing his skills ….
But making sure that Airwolf and all her computer systems would be up to the task and not fail her pilot and crew at a critical moment in any mission.
She was always pleasant, always cheerful and didn't seem to have much interest in anything except her work.
After one particularly scary near miss in the simulator, Hawke had taken her to one side and asked just how she had come up with that scenario ….
Only to be told, very casually, that a similar situation had happened to her a few years back …. And she had just been curious to know how he would have dealt with it.
He had dealt with it by almost crashing Airwolf into a mountainside …. Only the aircraft's supreme manoeuvrability and response time saving the day.
However, she had refused to tell him how she had dealt with it, merely grinning charmingly and saying "Obviously I did …."
After that, whenever they had to work together, they spent the five minutes before he had to go into the simulator, exchanging stories about close calls and near misses.
However, as he spent more time with the computer team, and Natasha in particular, there was one thing that Hawke found puzzling.
Moffett ….
And his interest in this young woman.
He always seemed to spend more time watching her than the other female members of the team, constantly referring to himself as Uncle Charles in her presence ….
Hawke found this a little disconcerting, because he had a feeling that Charles Moffett was a very sick individual indeed when it came to women, and his sexual preferences, and it concerned him that the old English lecher always seemed to want to monopolise Natasha's time.
However, with the work falling behind schedule they had all had to give up more and more of their free time to get the job done, including Hawke himself, and he found himself working deep into the night with Natasha, learning how all the onboard systems worked …. And neat little tricks of the trade on how to overcome even the most serious glitches.
That was when he had begun to realise that he liked her ….
Really liked her ….
Was actually starting to have feelings for her ….
Tender feelings ….
Protective feelings ….
Became more and more aware of it when he felt like punching Charles Moffett's lights out every time he got close to her ….
Laid his hands on her ….
Hawke also realised that the painfully shy and innocent young woman was beginning to like him too ….
And trust him ….
He suspected that maybe she thought that he was just feeling sorry for her because she had few friends, even amongst their colleagues at Red Star and she never seemed to go anywhere except to the lab.
She was something of a loner ….
Like himself ….
They shared similar interests in music and literature.
They laughed at the same things ….
Which he found surprising, since he rarely laughed out loud about anything ….
She didn't seem to care that he was so much older than she was …. In fact she had gone out of her way to let him know that he was eons younger than most of the men she had ever known in her life ….
She seemed to appreciate his friendly overtones, recognising the hand of friendship that he was offering.
Lord knew, they both needed a good friend ….
Hawke to stop himself from being broody …. Falling into dark self destructive moods …. Wallowing in the past ….
Tasha, to draw her out of herself, give her confidence and self believe a boost, and a new perspective on life.
Throwing his customary caution to the wind, Hawke had asked her out and had been delighted when she had accepted.
He had taken her dancing, only to discover that the poor kid had two left feet, both on her right side! They had tripped over each other, and stumbled around the small dance floor, laughing so much that Hawke thought they would be thrown out ….
To return his kindness, she had asked him to go bowling ….
Never one of his favourite sports, Hawke had braced himself and accepted, but again they had ended up tripping over each other, as she had tried to show him how to hold the bowling ball and deliver it properly down the alley ….
Laughter seemed to be the key to their friendship and happiness and Hawke knew that he had never felt younger or more light hearted than he did when he was with Tasha.
Friendship began to deepen into something much stronger ….
For both of them.
However they had to be careful, as fraternisation between staff at Red Star was frowned upon by Moffett ….
Unless of course he was the one doing the fraternising.
Hawke had tried to draw Tasha out on the subject of Moffett, trying to get to the bottom of their strange relationship, the hold that the older man seemed to have over her …. but she grew guarded and awkward …. Uncomfortable and withdrawn ….
Afraid …. Hawke had thought to himself.
And she had good reason to be.
For he had seen the possessive and predatorial way that Moffett watched Tasha, whenever he thought that no-one else was watching.
However, their happiness was short lived.
Before they had a chance to change the nature of their relationship to something a little more romantic, Natasha had failed to turn up for a planned evening out at the movies ….
And the next morning had disappeared from Red Star.
All that Hawke could discover from her work colleagues was a vague feeling that they thought that she had gone back to England.
Puzzled, confused and more than a little disappointed, Hawke had waited for Tasha to try to contact him, but there had been no word.
And when he could find no trace of her on the base or off it …. And he, being Stringfellow Hawke …. he had begun to wonder if he had done something to frighten her ….
However, he had other things to worry about …. As the nature of his own relationship with Charles Moffett had also changed around this time ….
Both men merely tolerating each other before, in a bid to get the job done, their ultimate goal the same, to make sure that Airwolf succeeded …. To get her, figuratively and literally off the ground ….
Now, Moffett seemed to go out of his way to discredit Hawke, to introduce a note of doubt about his flying ability and to undermine everyone's confidence in the young pilot at every opportunity ….
Raising doubts about his suitability under fire ….
Querying the results of his Psych evaluations ….
Goading him into losing his temper and using it as a means to make everyone at Red Star believe that Hawke was on the point of some kind of breakdown ….
Archangel, he recalled, had been called upon to act as referee on a number of occasions ….
And, Hawke also recalled, had come down in favour of Hawke, not Moffett, much to the Englishman's chagrin.
However, after four months of this kind of abuse, of constantly being failed in the simplest tests and having to go over the same ground over and over again, and after one particularly unnerving incident in the simulator, Hawke had decided to cut his losses and had walked away from the Airwolf project ….
With only one regret ….
That he was no wiser as to what had happened to Natasha Banks.
Now …. Almost two and half years down the line ….
Airwolf was back in his life ….
Dredging up all the old memories ….
Resentments ….
Recriminations ….
And so now was Natasha.
He couldn't for the life of him understand why he was feeling this way …. Although he had never cared for leaving loose ends ...
It really shouldn't matter so much to him why she had left and where she had gone ….
At the time he hadn't really thought that it …. That she …. had meant that much to him ….
It wasn't like they had declared undying love for each other …. Had made no firm commitments to each other ….
They were friends ….
They enjoyed each other's company ….
Together they had made some sense out of their lives ….
And when she had suddenly been gone from his life …. Nothing made sense any more.
He felt like he had lost something very important ….
More than just a lost opportunity …. A lost friendship ….
But he had felt like that before ….
And since ….
Other women who had meant so much more to him ….
Or so he had thought ….
But sitting there with his emotions still so raw …. Still in turmoil over losing Gabrielle ….
All he could think was that with Natasha, he had been at perhaps the most happiest in his life ….
Calm ….
Serene ….
At peace with himself and the ghosts he carried around with him constantly ….
There was no denying that she had done something miraculous to him ….
She had given him the gift of feeling, for the fist time since Vietnam, since having to leave St John behind …. that his life was worth living ….
A reason for living ….
Really living, not just existing …. Marking time until his life finally came to an end ….
So how did he feel now?
Surprised ….
Yes ….
He hadn't thought that Natasha had come to mean so much to him ….
He hadn't realised that he had missed her quite so much as he now understood that he had.
Hadn't realised that he had not tried to deal with his feelings for her …. To resolve them ….
Had dismissed them from his mind completely ….
After all, she was just a kid ….
Just a kid ….
And why dwell on something that was over ….
He was pleased to see her again ….
Of course he was …
More pleased than he dared admit …. Even to himself ….
He was pleased that she had looked happier …. Healthier …. More at ease …. The fear and anxiety having gone from her lovely brown eyes ….
And curious ….
Why the new identity?
But what did he really feel?
That he could not answer ….
It was still too soon after Gabrielle ….
But ….
He had to admit, silently to himself in the growing gloom of the Santini Air office …. For an instant …. Just for an instant …. There had been a stab of pleasure at seeing her ….
A glimmer of hope that maybe he might get a second chance with her ….
And then, guilt had settled in his heart like a stone ….
How could he be thinking of pursuing any kind of relationship with Natasha when he could still feel Gabrielle's frail, overheated body in his arms as the life had slipped away from her ….
What the hell kind of man was he any way ….
He had cared for Gabrielle ….
He had cared for her more deeply than he had for any woman ….
In a long time …,
Since Tasha ….
So why was it his heart had leapt at the very sight of Natasha Banks …. And all those wonderful, warm, comforting feelings he had associated with her presence all those years ago, had come flooding back, threatening to overwhelm him.
Was that why he was still sitting here ….
Thinking about it ….
Torturing himself with the memories …. When all he had to do was pick up the phone and call her ….
Was he so terrified that something beautiful might blossom between them once more ….
So afraid that he had found his soul-mate once more ….
For he now understood that even back then, when things between them had only been platonic and based on friendship …. deep in his soul he had known that there was something special about Tasha …. That she was the one …..
Was he so afraid to pick up the telephone and put things into motion that he would soon have no control over ….
Because that would once again put him in the position of having to face losing another woman that he loved ….
Or was it that this time, he was afraid that maybe, he might even be killed on an Airwolf mission, before they had had a chance to fulfil the promise of love that had germinated between them two and a half years ago ….
That he might come to care for her so deeply ….
Might need …. Want that love and fulfilment in his life, so badly, that it might make him careless ….
His own life had meant so little to him for a long time ….
Since Tasha had disappeared ….
Taking with her his reason for living ….
Now ….
To suddenly be confronted with the idea that the dangers he faced daily might bring about the end of everything that he had ever hoped, dreamed and prayed for …. Before he had a chance to know how they really felt ….
That the happiness he yearned for could be snatched away …. His life snuffed out ….
And all because he could not let go of the idea that St John was alive ….
In that brief instant of recognition between them this afternoon, Hawke had known that all the happiness he had craved for most of his life, the security of a stable, loving, passionate and fulfilling relationship were there for the taking ….
With Tasha ….
All he had to do was reach out and he could touch it …. Taste it …. Feel it ….
Live it ….
But what if she didn't feel the same way about him?
What if all she wanted from him was friendship …. After all, a lot of water had gone under the bridge …. She wasn't that naïve girl any more. She was a mature, attractive, confident young woman ….
She had made another life for herself ….
And he had no right to hope that there might be a place for him in it ….
But he could not help being just a little selfish ….
And if it turned out that friendship was all she would accept from him, then he would accept that and be grateful to be accepted back into her life in what ever role she defined for him.
So what was he waiting for?
All he had to do was reach out and pick up the telephone ….
After only the slightest hesitation, Stringfellow Hawke reached out for the telephone, pulled it closer to him and punched in the telephone number from memory.
The line rang out ….
And kept ringing out for several minutes ….
And with each tone, Hawke's heart sank.
She wasn't home ….
Or maybe she was home …. And couldn't bear to answer the telephone …. Had changed her mind about agreeing to speak with him ….
"Hello …." Her breathless voice suddenly on the end of the line startled him. "Hello?" She said again after what seemed like an endless silence. "Hawke? Is that you?"
"Hello Tasha …." He answered her at last, his voice low and gruff with emotion.
"Hello Hawke …. I knew it was you …. I recognised the silence …." She spoke softly. "Did you try calling before?"
"No …."
"Oh …. Well …. I've literally just got home …." She explained. "And I know you were hoping to get some answers …. But I'd really appreciate it if you could wait for some other time …. It's been a tough day …."
Hawke recalled the incident at the school that Sophie Rutherford had told him about and knew that it could not have been pleasant or easy for her to have to deal with.
"I've been at the Police Station since just after school …. And then I went straight to the hospital …." He caught the quiver in her voice then, and knew that she was on the verge of weeping.
"Then I guess you must be tired …." He sighed softly.
"I hate to ask …. But can I have a rain check?" Again there was a catch in her voice, and Hawke knew that neither of them would get anything out of a meeting tonight.
"Sure …. You all right?"
"Yes …. Thanks for asking …." She sighed softly, and this time he could hear the smile that had curved briefly at her lips.
"Sophie told me that there was some trouble at the school before we arrived today …. How are the kids?"
"Oh String …. I don't know what this world is coming to …. A young man died tonight because another young man stabbed him in the leg …. damaged an artery, and they couldn't stop the bleeding …."
Hawke found himself pulling a sour face as she described the injury …. Recalling that he had seen more than his fair share of such injuries in 'Nam …. Young men with their legs blown off, bleeding to death and there had been nothing that anyone could do to save them.
"And all because they belonged to rival gangs …. The other boy will have to go to jail now …. Murder …. A teenage boy with a bright future suddenly turned into a murderer …. Before my eyes …."
Hawke desperately wanted to say something to comfort her, but he knew there was nothing he could say, so he let her talk, get it out of her system, forgetting that he had been prepared to be angry with her.
"That's why I had to go to the Police station, to give a statement …. Two families destroyed, String …. Both boys had brothers and sisters …. The Police are so worried that it will just keep going on …. that one family member will try to kill one of the other boy's brothers or sisters …. In retaliation …. And on and on it will go …." Her voice caught in her throat then, and he heard her take a deep, calming breath. "How are we supposed to teach these kids, String? What are we meant to teach them …. Some of them are just so full of anger and resentment …."
"You do the best you can, Tasha …."
"What if it's not good enough …." She let out a deep sigh once more.
"It doesn't matter …. You can't just give up on them …. You might get through to one or two of them …. And that would be worth it, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah …. So …. Enough of my troubles …. When is a good time for you? To meet up?"
"How about tomorrow night?"
"Fine …. Say seven thirty …." And she named a place on the coast that he also knew, a secluded cove where they would have plenty of privacy to talk.
"I know the place. I'll meet you there."
"Thanks for being so …. Understanding, String …. Good night."
"Good night, Tasha …"