Letters Home -
"Coming Home"
The incessant beep, beep of the machines grated on his nerves, frayed them within a hair's breaking point. And still he stayed. Raking frustrated hands through his hair, Stringfellow Hawke shoved to his feet, pacing the floor.
It was his fault she was there. A sidelong glance at the fair, freckled red-head in the bed reassured him Cait was still with him.
No thanks to anything he'd done.
A thick, gauzy bandage covered one temple, the faintest traces of blood staining its edge.
Hawke drew a shaky breath. One minute she'd been right behind him, the next he'd turned just in time to see her fall, bullets raining like hail all around them. Lunging, eating dirt, he'd rolled bringing the .45 up, firing, emptying the clip 'til there was nothing left. Feeling the nick of bullet biting flesh, he'd kept going 'til the gun was empty, and then thrown it away, flinging himself across Cait and covering her with his body.
Rescue had been only moments away - Dom with Airwolf laying down a burst of canon fire that had settled the matter. His ears were still ringing from the repercussions.
He knew he's scared Dom, blood creasing the sleeve of his flight suit, too dazed and too shocky to move, too afraid to draw back and find he'd failed Cait as he'd failed every other woman in his life.
Even now, the lump in his throat threatened to choke him…
Pacing, Hawke strode the length of the room, feeling like a caged animal, replaying the scene in his mind no matter how hard he tried to shove it away.
Panting, Dom had pulled him back, the trembling in his hands evidence of his fear he'd lost the only son left to him. Relief had creased his face at the sight of Hawke's relatively minor wounds, only to slide away when he'd spotted Cait. String would swear he'd aged a decade in that moment, his face greying as he'd searched for a pulse.
He'd found it. Hawke thanked God for that, leaning his head back wearily, even as his mind replayed Dom bullying them both into action. Together, they'd hauled Caitlin's prone body aboard Airwolf, though in all fairness he couldn't remember much of the flight here, just the desperate sense of what it'd be like to have her ripped from his life, her shallow breathing seeming light and insubstantial in his arms. He'd been terrified they'd lose her before they could land.
He'd been a fool, thinking that if he didn't admit to himself what he felt, then nothing would happen to her.
Yeah, and we see how well that worked out, stupid…
Hawke groaned, dropping into the chair beside Caitlin's bed elbows propped loosely on his knees as he scrubbed weary palms against his face in frustration. Regret ate at him.
He'd known how Caitlin felt. He'd have had to be blind not to have seen it. He'd just thought she'd be safer if he didn't acknowledge it.
If she died, she'd never hear him say the words.
Outside the window, a dark-haired nurse came up impatiently tapped on the glass, signaling to her watch his time was up.
Startled, Hawke nodded, all too aware he was about to get kicked out. He gave her an acknowledgement and she moved on.
Beside him, Cait's hand twitched lightly on the sheet and he reached for it, tracing her lifeline with calloused fingers before pressing the lightest of kisses there.
"Come home," he whispered. "Come back to me, Cait. I don't want to do it without you..."
The nurse tapped on the glass impatiently again.
Numbly, he started to rise to his feet to go.
Slender fingers slid through his, tightening at the last instant. "Stay, String," Cait whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
