REUNION is an original story, inspired by the U.S. T.V. series AIRWOLF.
Copyright refers to the author of this original material, and is not meant to supersede any copyrights held by Donald P Bellisario or any other persons or corporations holding rights to the television series AIRWOLF and its characters.
Chapter Four
Stringfellow Hawke trudged forlornly back to where he had parked the borrowed Santini Air Jeep, but there was no sign of Mackenzie Jarvis along the way. The parking area was quiet, no people milling about, just a handful of empty vehicles and he had no idea how Mack had gotten here. Had she driven herself, or hitched a ride with the other girls?
He experienced a moment of fierce anxiety at the idea that maybe she had had to resort to walking, or thumbing a ride from the first passing car, and hurried to the Jeep, scrambling inside and quickly started the engine.
He thrust the gear lever into reverse and roared out of the parking area, speeding out onto the coast road, cruising, up one lane of the highway, then turning around and cruising back down the other way, looking for any sign of Mackenzie Jarvis, but the road was empty of pedestrians, and there was no other traffic on the road in either direction.
She was gone, and he had no idea where, or how she had managed to get away so quickly.
She had simply melted into the shadows, like a specter.
He also had no idea where to find her, where she lived ….
What the hell was he going to do?
He couldn't go on driving around aimlessly all night, and he didn't know where to start looking for her.
He couldn't go home either.
Not yet.
Not like this.
No matter how hard he tried to appear to be calm and in control, Dominic would know that something was amiss.
He wasn't very good at hiding his true feelings, and Dom would take one look at him, and just know that something awful had happened tonight, something momentous and life changing.
And he would have questions.
No doubt about it, Dominic Santini would have lots of questions.
Stringfellow Hawke knew that he couldn't face that.
At least not yet.
He needed time, alone, to think, to get him self under control, and to try to come to terms with what had just happened, and what he was feeling.
Right now, he was feeling pretty overwhelmed, trying to assimilate everything that had happened to him in the last hour or so, but it was just so big, so mind blowing, if he had had a whole lifetime to devote to trying to understand it, he would fail miserably.
It was just so ...
Out of left field!
So totally unexpected.
But not unwelcome.
So, his mother had been right all along.
You just never knew when love would come knocking at your door, and from the most unexpected and unlikely direction.
As this thought registered in his head, fighting for recognition amidst the myriad of other confusing thoughts running riot in his brain, Hawke felt hot tears scalding on his cheeks and his hands were suddenly sweating and shaking as he grasped the steering wheel of the Santini Air Jeep, with all his might, his heart banging rapidly against his rib cage and his mouth dry.
The Jeep veered drunkenly across the center line of the dark coast road, and Hawke knew that he had to stop, before he killed himself.
Blinking, fresh tears from his eyes, Hawke spotted a place to pull in off the road, safely, and he swerved the Jeep back across to the other lane and took the turn off, stomping on the brakes with all his might before finally coming to a screeching halt, just short of a cliff drop, churned up sand and dust and vegetation swirling up around the open Jeep.
Man, what the hell was wrong with him tonight!
He hadn't cried so much since St John had taken his precious ant farm, a school project that he had devoted himself to for months, and in a fit of jealous pique, had smashed it to the ground and then jumped all over the contents, calling his younger brother a 'stupid baby'.
The younger Hawke brother had been inconsolable for almost a week, and St John's loss of control, his sadistic cruelty towards his younger brother, had earned him the paddling of his life, but, more painful than any spanking, he had later confided to that same younger brother, had been the look off disappointment and disapproval on their parent's faces.
String hadn't thought about that incident in years, and even as the flicker of the memory flashed through his mind and a gentle smile touched his lips, albeit briefly, fresh tears were coursing down his cheeks.
What was he thinking?
Love?
How could that be?
How could he have fallen in love?
Fallen in love with Mackenzie Jarvis?
Love?
Yes. Love.
And why not?
Yes.
Why not?
It was the most real, most honest thing he had ever experienced, and just because she was the very last person that he might have expected to feel that way about, it didn't mean that it was wrong, a false emotion.
It hadn't even been something that he was conscious of.
Something that he could control.
It simply was.
Beautiful.
Unexpected, yes.
Unsolicited.
Yes, and that was what made it so incredible.
So mind blowing.
Awesome.
Like falling over a precipice.
A total rush.
A not unpleasant sensation.
On the contrary, euphoric.
He wanted to laugh out loud, to shout at the moon, to dance and jump up and down with joy.
So this was how it felt to be in love.
To really be in love.
To know with absolute certainty that he had found the woman of his dreams.
His soul mate.
To know that from the instant their lips met, their hearts beat as one, in harmony, their souls united for eternity across time and space, into infinity.
The perfect moment.
He knew, as surely as he knew that the sun would continue to rise and set, ad infinitum, he knew in his heart that Mackenzie Jarvis had felt it too.
It had rocked her to her core too.
He had felt it, as a tangible thing.
He had seen it in her eyes, even as she had been pulling away from him, in that wretched moment when reality began to encroach.
And then, he had seen something else in her eyes, something that defied words, but which was guaranteed to break his heart.
And then, to top it all, accompanied by the vitriol pouring from Chip's foul mouth, he had seen disappointment and betrayal in her eyes.
And, he had let her walk away.
He had let her walk out of his life.
Because he was a fool.
Stupid and weak and clumsy.
It had all been there, his for the taking, he had seen it so clearly, felt it so keenly, tasted it, so sweetly.
There laid out before him, the dream of the bright and happy future he had always yearned for, made reality, and he had let it all go without a single word, without putting up so much as an ounce of fight or resistance.
All because of that unquantifiable something that he had seen in Mackenzie Jarvis's eyes.
What kind of man was he?
That he had not offered to fight to keep something that beautiful, that precious, had lamely and dumbly just stood there and watched his wonderful happy future, filled with love and joy and hope, his soul mate, walking with such quiet dignity, right out of his life, without so much as a backward glance.
What kind of man was he? That he could do to that?
Certainly not the kind of man who was worthy of Mackenzie Jarvis's love.
Not any kind of man that he could comfortably live with for the rest of his life.
Not any kind of man at all.
He was weak.
He was a coward.
He didn't deserve Mackenzie Jarvis.
Or, more to the point, she needed someone better than him, someone stronger, someone willing to ignore what other people thought or said, and was prepared to stand up for her, protect her and support her, because she was a beautiful human being and would do the same thing for him in a heartbeat, convention be damned!
In light of what had happened, Hawke knew that Mackenzie Jarvis had every right to be angry with him, to doubt his sincerity, to despise him.
She would probably never trust him again.
If, she could ever bring her self to speak to him again.
Ever bring her self to see him again.
Would she ever be able to look at him with anything but contempt for him in her eyes?
Contempt, and pity.
He would not blame her.
Having experienced that one excruciatingly joyous moment of perfect love and bliss and peace, Hawke knew that it had slipped from his grasp, and he would never know anything like it in his life again.
A lost opportunity.
The most important opportunity he had ever been presented with and he had failed to recognise it.
He had failed to react.
Even if he could find Mackenzie, talk to her, try to explain, plead with her to believe him, beg her to trust him, to believe in him, it would never be the same.
The moment had gone, never to be recaptured, and he had blown it.
By simply doing nothing at all.
Stunned by the power of his emotions, shocked to his very core by the sheer exhilaration, the purity and rightness of it, overwhelmed by his first taste of real love, he had let the moment of truth pass him by.
No matter how hard he tried, he would never get that back again.
It had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he had failed to respond.
And he had no-one to blame but himself.
At long last, drained emotionally and physically, Stringfellow Hawke drew in a long, calming breath and rubbed his hands over his tear streaked face, staring out into the inky blackness of the night sightlessly, unaware of time, his thoughts in turmoil as he tried to come to terms with all that he had learned this night.
Eventually awareness once again returned, and with it came the emptiness of a loss so profound, he wanted to curl up and die, but instead, he stared out over the cliff top, watching silvery, ghostly moonlight as it danced over the constantly moving ocean.
This was pointless.
Eating himself up like this, over what?
Take out the emotion and what was left?
Love?
Don't be crazy!
You can't fall in love with someone in one minute ….
It was just one kiss ….
One glorious, knee tremblingly, heart burstingly, beautiful, to die for kiss ….
But still just one kiss.
He had kissed other girls, and would no doubt kiss plenty more before his allotted time on this mortal coil was over.
So what was it about this girl, this kiss, that had been so unique?
And if it had been so momentous, so earth shatteringly special, why the hell was he sitting here wracked with shame and guilt and grief?
Why wasn't his soul mate here with him now? Sharing the joy? Marvelling in the miracle that had overcome them both?
If it had meant so much to her too, then why hadn't Mackenzie Jarvis stood her ground, brazened it out, why hadn't she demanded an explanation?
Why hadn't she demanded to know why he wasn't defending her honour, her reputation?
Why hadn't she just slapped his face and called him a louse?
Even that would have been better than her silent departure!
Yet, Stringfellow Hawke knew why, deep down in his own heart.
His silence must have seemed like more than a betrayal.
It must have seemed like a huge slap to her face.
To Mackenzie Jarvis it must have seemed like the ultimate denial.
What had she seen in his face?
Regret at what had happened?
Disgust, at his lack of self control?
Horrified realisation that in a moment of weakness, instantly regretted, when he had come back to his senses and realised what he was doing, who she was, that he had made a mistake, a terrible mistake that couldn't be taken back.
That he had acted on impulse …. Lost his head, and taken advantage of her vulnerability.
To Mackenzie Jarvis, it must have seemed like a deliberate act of cruelty, only proving that he was indeed, just like the others.
Mackenzie Jarvis should hate him.
He hated himself.
He was a monster.
He wasn't sure if he would be able to look at him self in the mirror ever again. How could he look at those perfect, chiselled, All American good looks reflected back at him, when inside he knew lived, no hid, a weak, cowardly bigot, who didn't have the guts to face up to the repercussions of his actions.
This night he had been forced to face up to some hard home truths about himself, and Stringfellow Hawke knew that he didn't like what he had seen. He knew that he didn't want to be that kind of a man, reckless, acting on impulse, without a thought to the hurt and heartache he might be causing, simply taking what he wanted because it felt right, good, because he was a good looking guy.
He was better than that, or so he had thought.
From this moment on, he would make damned sure that he was indeed better than that, sensitive to and aware of other people's delicate egos and fragile emotions, aware that his every action had a repercussion, would affect someone else on levels that he could never comprehend, because he wasn't them, and didn't have their perspective.
By simply showing kindness and sympathy, by simply giving into an impulse to kiss Mackenzie Jarvis, he had touched her somewhere deep down in her psyche, had rocked her world by showing her something completely beyond her experience in life, that she was just like every other girl in the world, could be liked and desired, and could feel those things in return, and some how, he had hurt her, scared her, simply because he had no idea of how low her self image was, her self esteem.
He had the confidence of one who had always been beautiful and acceptable, had always known love, so he would never understand what it meant to be Mackenzie Jarvis, to feel ugly and fat and worthless, awkward, isolated, ridiculed and unacceptable, simply because she looked and sounded different.
If he was going to learn to be the kind of man he wanted to be, he was going to also have to learn that people didn't always see themselves in the same light as others saw them.
He saw himself as a good man, solid, reliable, sensitive, smart, cheerful, honest, just and yes, handsome, but he wasn't perfect, and maybe other people saw his flaws much more clearly than he did.
It was human nature to want to see the best in ourselves, but some times, life, and our experiences within it, cloud the way we see ourselves and instead of focusing on the good, and the positive, we think that other people can only see the flaws, and in the end, that is all we can see in ourselves.
Hawke understood that now.
Mackenzie Jarvis's self image had played a big part in what had happened tonight.
She had just been so convinced that she was unattractive and unworthy of his attention, of his affections, that when events and emotions had overcome them both, she was unable to accept that what they were both feeling could be real.
Why should someone like you want anything to do with someone like me?
She had asked him out right, but he hadn't really understood what she had been asking, what she had been trying to tell him.
She didn't feel good about herself, saw herself as something less than human, and if she couldn't like herself, then how could any one else?
When all she had heard most every day, from all her peers, was that she was ugly and fat and worthless, and she had no other opinion to counter balance that, no wonder she believed it.
Tell a person often enough that they are dumb, if that is all that they hear, day in day out, they have no choice but to believe it.
A matter of opinion, but one that could make all the difference to a life.
To how a person approached life.
He came from a world that was full of light and love, secure and confident about him self and what and who he was, but Mackenzie Jarvis's world must be a very dark and lonely place.
As he analyzed his thoughts now, Stringfellow Hawke realised that if he was really going to be the kind of man he wanted to be, the kind of man he could live with and respect, he was going to have to be more sensitive to his fellow man, and learn to see the world through new eyes, and to do that, he was going to have to learn to be more in tune with his own feelings, and that if that meant expressing them from time to time, then so be it.
Another lesson Mackenzie Jarvis had taught him.
Another gift.
If he was going to be a real man, he was going to have to accept that there were times when those emotions needed to find release.
If something touched him that deeply, moved him that strongly, then he should not feel ashamed to show it.
It all boiled down to honesty.
Honesty about what he was really thinking and feeling, exposed so that everyone could deal with them, because kept locked away inside him, they would only fester, until he could no longer control them, or his actions, and he would end up in serious trouble, one way or another.
Miserably, he stared out over the moonlit ocean and wished that Mackenzie Jarvis was there with him, so that he could tell her, honestly, what this night had meant to him, what she had meant to him, and what his true feelings were, and dragging in a long, deep breath, Stringfellow Hawke acknowledged the honesty of what had passed between them earlier, savoured the warmth and the joy and the peace that filled his heart once more, and made a silent vow to the moon, that the very first chance he got, he would find Mack and talk to her, make her listen, make her understand, make her believe in him again, beg her to take a chance with him, because the rewards would be amazing, because he had been granted a glimpse of something very rare and precious, and he couldn't, wouldn't let it slip away without a fight.
They both deserved a chance to see where it might lead, what they might make of it, together.
Together they were strong.
Together they could face anything.
They were meant for each other.
Fighting it, denying it, would only make them both miserable.
Fate had brought them together in the most unexpected way, and Stringfellow Hawke wasn't about to allow his childish stupidity to keep them apart.
He would make it right.
He just had to.
His future happiness depended on it.
He would never give up trying, not until she saw the light, and accepted the simple truth of it.
He had fallen in love with her.
Wasn't it only right that he have the chance to show her, to prove it to her?
He had no more control over who he fell in love with and who he didn't than he had control over the universe it's self.
His heart had decreed that it would be Mackenzie Jarvis, and now that his heart had decided, he would go on loving her until the day he died.
They were one soul now, united by an innocent kiss.
He would make her see that he was right, and be happy to spend the rest of his life proving to her that she was the only girl for him.
The decision made, Stringfellow Hawke pulled himself together and slowly drove the Jeep home, half hoping that he would see Mackenzie Jarvis somewhere along the way, but she was nowhere to be found.
Back home, lying on his small bed, sleep was a long time in claiming him, but when at last he did succumb, for the first time since he had been shot down in that steaming Asian hellhole, since he had heard the devastating news that St John hadn't been picked up and returned to base, his slumber was not punctuated by deafening explosions and his own pathetic screams, but instead, was filled with vividly real pictures of a happy, contented future, full of love and joy and hope, with Mackenzie Jarvis right there at his side.