Chapter Six.

Knightsbridge – Headquarters of The Firm.

Saturday 19th May, 1984.

Michael Coldsmith Brigg's III's Office – 8.30am

Michael Coldsmith Briggs III entered his office and sat down at his desk with an expressive sigh. For once it was cleared of paperwork, and he suspected that Marella had stayed late the previous night to clear the decks for him, after he had called her to let her know that he was returning to the States early.

Vacations ….

Whoever had invented them should be fed to the sharks ….

Inactivity had never been one of his strongest suits.

Mental or physical ….

And due to the events of the past few months, he had been forced to remain inactive for longer than he had ever had to in his life before ….

Weeks in hospital and then at home recuperating …. Then more time in physical therapy, only allowed to take a little gentle exercise, and certainly no horseback riding …. After the incident at Red Star …. Had left him feeling old and useless and itching to get back to work and kick some serious butt over getting that damned helicopter back ….

He had just been getting back into the swing of things …. Starting to enjoy his work once more, especially, he had to admit to himself, his encounters with the formidable and challenging Stringfellow Hawke ….

His doctor's insistence, backed up by the Firm's own medics, that he take some down time had frustrated Archangel …. There was just so much going on …. He needed to keep his finger on the pulse ….

But thanks to long distance telephones and Marella …. He was up to speed on most things ….

And as he had requested, although she had already given him a brief outline, Marella had left the latest reports for the last forty eight hours on his desk ready for him to dive into.

He was particularly interested in one report from East Germany ….

Sightings of a very lowly Russian General crossing into West Germany and then taking a plane, firstly to Paris, and then showing up at Kennedy in New York, and then on to LAX ….

Posing as a tourist cum businessman ….

Could be he was here to sound out the possibility of defecting ….

Although, stationed in Siberia as he had been for the past six months or so, it was hardly likely that he would have much useful information to impart in exchange for a new life in the US ….

Or, his reasons for being here could be rather more sinister.

Archangel tried to rack his brain ….

Trying to work out what it might be in LA or on the West Coast in general, that had attracted such a lowly Russian General …. But he couldn't think of anything ….

Except the Olympics which were coming up in July ….

However, unless he was going to claim to be a member of the Soviet team, or one of their officials, Sevchenko had little chance of convincing anyone that he was here for the Games.

Other than that …. Archangel mused silently.

No high powered meetings going on …. No visiting dignitaries ... No projects in the pipe work that the Russians might have gotten wind of ….

Indeed ….

The only thing that the Russians could remotely be interested in was ….

Airwolf ….

Of course the Russians would be interested in Airwolf ….

But thus far, there hadn't been a sniff ….

They had to know that she was no longer in government hands ….

But they couldn't know for sure who had her ….

Or could they?

Other interested parties had made their intentions known …. Even going so far as to drug and kidnap Hawke and try to make him believe that he had been in a coma for almost a year ….

But Hawke had been smart ….

Suspicious ….

Calluses on his damned hands, for crying out loud …. If he'd been sleeping for the better part of a year, he wouldn't have calluses on his hands ….Only Hawke could have thought of that ….

And their plan had fallen apart ….

Hawke had Airwolf stashed away somewhere so safe that nothing short of a spy satellite could detect it ….

Their own or the other side's ….

Archangel hoped ….

Relieved to hear from Marella that DG Bogard had quickly been reassigned to a desk in Baltimore ….

Curiouser and Curiouser, said Alice ….

Maybe it was nothing ….

But maybe, just to be on the safe side …. He should have a surveillance team assigned to General Vladimir Sevchenko, who was presently passing himself off as a German movie producer called Klaus Bauer ….

And maybe he would give Hawke a call ….

Just to shoot the breeze ….

See if anything had registered on his very sensitive radar …. If he or Dominic had noticed anything suspicious ….

However when he dialled the familiar number of the Santini Air hangar, there was no reply, the line just kept ringing out ….

Strange ….

So he used the satellite link to Hawke's cabin ….

But again there was no reply ….

Then he remembered that it was Saturday ….

And that Hawke and Santini still thought that he was on vacation ….

It wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that they had made plans to be out of town for the weekend ….

And then he spotted a note from Marella, when he picked up the file containing the reports he wanted to read …. Informing him that Dominic Santini had gone to Seattle for an Air Race Show and that Hawke had retired to his cabin for the weekend and did not want to be disturbed ….

Romantic plans …. Marella had added cryptically ….

Terrific ….

Oh well ….

It could wait until Monday ….

Probably nothing in it anyway ….

He let out a soft sigh and put his legs up on his desk as he settled back to read the reports Marella had left for him. Maybe they would enlighten him as to what the Russian General was up to ….

And then he would decide what, if anything, to do about it ….

Stringfellow Hawke's Cabin – Eagle Lake.

Stringfellow Hawke stepped up on to the cabin's wooden porch, returning with arms full of chopped wood from the wood pile stacked up at the corner of the cabin, to bank up the fire, as the night had turned chill, a faint drizzle in the air and the mountain tops shrouded in a gauzy mist ….

But he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Alexandra Beecham, framed in the soft golden light from within as she sat in the window seat, staring, unseeing, out of the window, her thoughts directed inwards, not out at the inky darkness beyond the cabin.

He let out a soft sigh.

He didn't know where she was ….

But one thing was for sure, she wasn't here …. with him.

They had had a lovely day, hiking around the lake and following a couple of the trails that he knew, up into the foothills of the mountains.

Alex had thrown food into a clean dish towel and knotted the edges together and he had produced a small backpack to carry the food, and a large canteen of water in and they had struck out, walking hand in hand, laughing, joking, teasing….

The horrors of earlier seemingly forgotten.

They had walked up to the high meadow, then they had sat among the wildflowers and talked ….

No ….

He had talked ….

She had persuaded him to tell her more about his childhood …. St John …. His relationship with Dominic Santini …. His work ….

Absorbed in the smallest details of his life ….

He had talked while they had eaten and as he had chewed crusty bread and cheese and she had playfully dangled grapes into his mouth …. and they had taken in the magnificence and splendour of the view, somehow it had not been as hard to pour it all out to her ….

Hawke had realised that he wanted her to know what made him tick.

He needed her to understand what made him the man that he was.

It would help her to understand why his moods were sometimes dark and destructive.

And she had smiled lovingly up at him, her head cradled in his lap as she had picked a buttercup and shone it under his chin ….

And he had been able to see in her eyes that she understood.

And it was at that moment, when she had reached up to touch his rough cheek with her thin, delicate fingers, that he had also realised that he loved her.

Really loved her ….

Loved her more than he had thought it possible to ever love another human being ….

Even more than he had thought that he had loved Gabrielle.

He had realised that he had loved this women for a very long time ….

Over two lifetimes now ….

Two incarnations ….

As Natasha Banks ….

And now as Alexandra Beecham …

Loved them both in different ways ….

For she had been right when she had told him that Alex was nothing like Tasha.

Tasha had been a child ….

Alex was most definitely all woman ….

She had slipped her hand up around his neck and drawn his face down so that she could kiss him ….

And inevitably they had ended up making love again, in the tall grass amid the pretty wild flowers ….

And there had been something different about the woman he had held in his arms this afternoon ….

Something different about her reaction to his kisses and his caresses ….

Nothing shy, or coy or reserved about her reactions …..

Quite the opposite in fact ….

So fierce …. So intense …. So demanding …. Urgent …. needy and powerful ….

Driven ….

Driving him on ….

And yet, in the taking ….

She had given him so much more ….

The love in her eyes undeniable ….

And his heart had been fit to burst with happiness.

Later as the afternoon sun had been masked by low, threatening grey clouds, they had walked in silent contemplation back to the cabin and then Hawke had taken Tet out to catch more fish for dinner.

Knowing that he had never known such contentment ….

When he had returned with two more beautiful trout dangling from a hook and Tet walking attentively at his heels, it was to find Alex fixing a salad and putting potatoes into the oven to bake, a perfectly broiled steak already sitting on a serving platter on the hot plate on the top of the stove.

She had smiled softly at him, but he had seen immediately that there was something different about her.

Remote ….

Detached ….

She was quiet and thoughtful now …. Moving around the kitchen with a quiet purpose, busying herself with opening the wine and slicing bread and setting the table with condiments and cutlery, while Hawke cleaned and washed and then cooked the fish for his dinner.

Her usual playfulness completely absent ….

When they sat down to eat their meal, Hawke drew her into conversation, picking safe subjects like her work at the school and the Rutherford's and what ambitions she had for the future. She responded to his questions readily enough but their usual light, teasing banter was missing tonight.

When they had cleared away the debris of their meal and put away the clean dishes, Alex had asked Hawke if he would play the cello for her, and while he got ready to play, taking the precious antique Stradivarius cello from its purpose built niche, Alex had taken her wine glass and sauntered over to the window seat, where she had settled herself while he played.

"What would you like to hear?" He had asked, drawing his bow across the strings, filling the room with the first few bars of 'Happy Birthday', to check that the instrument was in perfect tune.

"Something light and gay and lively …. No dirges tonight, if you don't mind …." She had spoken absently, settling herself into the window seat, feet up on the padded cushion and her back resting lightly against the book case that stood beside it.

"Ask for something easy, why don't you …." He had rolled his eyes expressively. "The cello is rather a mournful instrument …." He reminded. "It's the sorrowful voice of the orchestra …. There aren't too many cheerful cello pieces."

"Can't you play it like a double bass?"

"Sure …." He demonstrated by plucking a few strings but pulled a sour face at the sound the instrument produced. "It was designed to be played with a bow …. And that's how you get the true beauty of it …."

"Ok …. Surprise me …." She had sighed softly, taken a sip of her wine and then closed her eyes.

He had played one of his favourite pieces, a deeply emotional piece by Edward Elgar, an English composer he was sure she would recognise …. A concerto called The Lost World …. Producing a sweet, clear sound and playing it with real feeling, carried away by the music and when he had finished, for a moment, he could have sworn that he could see tears shimmering on Alexandra's cheeks ….

However, when he turned back from returning the cello to its resting place, the tears were gone and she was gazing out of the window and he was unsure if it was the music that had moved her …. Or the thoughts crowding her head …. Preoccupying her ... That had caused this sudden melancholia.

It was just so damned out of character …. he found it very unsettling …. Unnerving ….

"I'll go get some wood …. It's a little chilly in here …." He had told her but Alex had made no sign that she had heard him, and he had left the room, pulling the door closed softly behind him.

Now, Hawke stood on the porch, trying to work out where, and how it had all gone wrong ….

And he couldn't help wondering if a different kind of storm was building up ….

He knew, as surely as he knew his own name ….. She had changed her mind about them ….

She had had time to think ….

And had realised that it was a mistake ….

It had gotten way too serious …. way too fast ….

She was young ….

Why would she be serious about a relationship with a man who was eleven years older than she was and came with the kind of emotional baggage that he dragged around with him constantly?

She was young, carefree, alive ….

She was building up to telling him that it was over ….

He was sure of it ….

And he had no idea what he would do without her ….

With a heavy heart he opened the door and crossed the room on purposeful strides, depositing the chunks of sweet smelling, freshly chopped wood into the box beside the fireplace and then dropped one on to the roaring fire which danced prettily in the hearth.

He leaned against the mantle for a moment, trying to decide what to do next watching smoke curl from the new wood on the blaze in the hearth as it caught, and then he took a deep breath and turned back to face Alex ….

Only to discover that she was watching him curiously.

"Would you like some more wine? Coffee?" He asked politely, like the good host that he was, suddenly unnerved by the calmness and determination he saw in her deep brown eyes.

"No …. Thanks." She rose from her seat in the window and crossed the room, taking a small detour to place her half full wine glass on the dining table before settling herself down on the couch.

"String …."

"It's all right, Alex…." He let out a deep sigh. "Just say it …. Spit it out …. Get it off your chest …. You'll feel better …." He drawled, trying desperately to hide his hurt and confusion.

"I will?" She frowned at him, obviously not following him.

"Yeah …. It's obvious you have something on your mind …." He sighed again raggedly. "To borrow a phrase from Dominic …. You're chewing on something, but you ain't swallowing …. Just say it, Alex …. I've been dumped before you know …."

"Dumped?" She regarded him with complete astonishment and Hawke frowned then, wondering if he had gotten completely the wrong end of the stick. "Oh String …. Is that what you think?" A weak smile briefly touched her lips and that made him feel even more confused.

"What else am I supposed to think, Alex? You've been quiet, thoughtful, preoccupied …. withdrawn …."

"Well …. it's true I've had something on my mind …. But dumping you was the furthest thing, I can promise you …. Come …." She patted the empty seat beside her on the couch. "Sit …."

Hesitantly, Hawke moved to the couch and perched himself on the very edge of the cushion, regarding her with confused big blue eyes.

"There are a couple of things I want to say to you …." She began in a soft voice, reaching out to take his hand in her own. It was cold after his trip outside and she smiled, lifting it to her lips to press a soft, warm kiss to his knuckles.

"Alex …." He groaned, his eyes beseeching her to get to the point and put him out of his misery.

"Ok …." She released his hand then and tucked her own neatly in her lap. "Firstly, I think it's time we talked about what happened this morning …."

"You had a nightmare …. It happens …. No big deal …."

"Yes, big deal …." She contradicted. "I must have behaved like some wild animal, kicking, biting, punching …. And I hurt you …."

"It was an accident …. Which is more than I can say about your face …." He reached out tentatively to lightly touch the flaming spot on her cheek where his hand had connected with her flesh. "I'm sorry about that, Alex .…" He sighed raggedly again.

"I guess I was hysterical …."

"You were defending yourself …. fighting for your life …."

"Yes, I was …." She paused for a moment to draw in a long breath. "It was that night …. Moffett …."

"I know …."

"Damn him … I'll never be free of him …." This on a sob, torn out of her with such anguish it almost broke Hawke's heart ….

So that was it …

Being with him so reminded her of the past ….

Of that awful night and what Moffett had done to her ….

She could not bear it ….

"He can't hurt you anymore, love …." The words were out before he realised.

"We could still run into each other by accident …. Just like you and I did …." She told him bluntly, but he reached out and captured one of her hands, inching slightly closer to her, his knee touching her thigh now.

"No, love …." He assured, squeezing her hand gently. "He can't hurt you …. Because he's dead …." He confessed on a soft, low voice.

"Dead?"She echoed. "How do you know …."

"I know …." She took stock for a moment, and he could almost see the cogs working in her brain.

"You're sure ….

"I'm sure …." He confirmed and watched realisation dawn in her eyes …. Along with acceptance of the truth he spoke.

"You know …. because …. you killed him …." It wasn't a question. She said it with total certainty. "You killed him …. But …"

"It's a long story …." He sighed, waiting to see the horror and anger and shock register on her lovely face ….

And was surprised when she showed no sign of any of those thing ….

"We have all night …."She encouraged, her voice even, if a little soft, her eyes devoid of judgement or accusation.

"He took Airwolf …. Stole her …. After turning all her weapons on the lab and everyone in it …. Tried to sell her to the Libyans …. Archangel approached me to get her back …."

"Naturally …. And …." She prompted and he could see from her expression that she was not going to let him get away with telling her only that.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Stringfellow Hawke set about telling Alex about Gabrielle, about Archangel's commandeering his art collection in a bid to blackmail him into getting Airwolf back …. About Gabrielle having to replace Angela, the agent who had been killed …. And about how he had found her, dying, in the desert, after Moffett had finished with her ….

And finally, how he had found Moffett making his escape across the desert and had, without regret, remorse or compunction, ruthlessly turned every weapon at his disposal aboard Airwolf on the twisted, psychopathic bastard ….

And blown him to hell ….

He did not, however, tell her that he had then refused to give Airwolf back to the Firm, but instead had held her hostage so that he could get more information on the whereabouts of his missing brother, St John ….

Making a deal with Archangel to use Airwolf on government business in exchange for information about St John ….

"Thank you …." Alex breathed, her expression a mixture of awe and relief.

"Thank you?" He echoed. It wasn't exactly what Hawke had been expecting to hear from her.

"Yes … thank you …. You'll never know how much easier I'll sleep knowing that that bastard no longer walks this earth …."

"I think I can hazard a guess …."

"The nightmares …. They don't happen very often …." She reassured him now. "I think this one was triggered by the date …. My birthday …" She explained.

"And me …. My being back in your life …. It's too painful a reminder …."

"No, String …." She assured, inching closer to him on the couch. Reaching out to place her hand lightly on his knee …. "That's not it at all …."

Didn't he know that having him back in her life was the most wonderful thing that could ever have happened?

Obviously not ….

"Airwolf …." He saw the spark of interest in her eyes now. "So …. You got to fly her …. How was she?"

"Amazing …." He could not prevent a smile from tugging at his lips then.

"I'm glad …. Glad that you got to take her up for real, at least once …."

If only she knew the half of it ….

"I'd really like to see her …. Fully operational …. But I guess there's no chance of that now …." She sighed softly, genuine regret in her eyes then.

"You said there were a couple of things …." He reminded her, swiftly changing the subject.

"Oh …. Yes …." She confirmed, growing awkward once more. "As we're baring our souls, I guess it's my turn …." She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, and he wondered what could possibly be so difficult for her to tell him ….

Didn't she know that there was nothing that she could do or say that would shock him, or drive him away ….

Obviously not ….

"String …. I want us to be open and honest with each other …."

"Me too …."

"And that is why I have to tell you what I am about to tell you …."

Her tone was solemn, and there was such sorrow and regret and pain in her eyes now, Hawke suddenly had the most awful feeling that what she was about to say was worse than if she had dumped him.

"Are you sick?" He asked in a low voice, edged with emotion.

It was the only thing he could think of.

"Alex …."

Lord but he was quick on the uptake ….

Very astute ….

And there it was ….

That look …. on his dear face ….

The one that she had prayed she would see there ….

The same one she had also dreaded seeing there ….

The one that told her that he did indeed love her …. and that what she was about to tell him could break his heart ….

Could destroy those tender feelings …. forever ….

"Oh String …. I love you so much …." She confessed on a ragged breath and then almost bit her tongue ….

That was not what she had meant to say .… but, now it was out ….

And she couldn't just leave it like that..

"For good or bad …. Rightly or wrongly …. I do love you …. Probably more than is good for me …."

"I lo …." She reached out and put her finger to his lips, silencing him, noting the look of utter relief in his eyes.

He obviously thought that the reason why she had seemed so preoccupied was because she had been wrangling with how to tell him how she felt without frightening him off ….

Bless him ….

If only ….

"Wait String …." She implored. "There is something that you should know …. before you say anything else …. Something that could change the way you might feel …." He made to protest, but she did not remove her finger from his lips.

"After the attack …." She began, casting her eyes downward, unable to look him in the eye now, only then her finger slowly dropping from his lips

"When Moffett left me for dead …." She continued in a low voice. "He didn't know just how close he came …." She looked up, reluctantly then and found him regarding her with a soft, understanding expression on his dear face.

"I told you that my injuries were serious …. That it was touch and go for a while …. I had to have brain surgery …. I was in there for hours while the surgeons worked to remove a blood clot and to relieve the pressure caused by the swelling …. And they did a wonderful job …. Working tirelessly for most of the night …. And they saved my life …. But …."

"But …." There was a note of anxiety in his voice now.

"But …. I was left with a mild form of epilepsy …. Not seizures as such, just absences …. I lose time …. It's called temporal lobe epilepsy and to people who witness one of these …. Episodes …. it looks a bit like I'm daydreaming …. Off in another world …. It's under control …." She told him quickly, wanting to reassure him that it had never been a problem while they had been together and that it would not be in the future. " …. with medication, otherwise flying wouldn't be the only thing I can't do …. I wouldn't be able to drive …." She explained patiently.

"I hadn't had an episode for almost six months …. Except …. I guess I had a small episode in school, the day before Casey's funeral …. Class just thought I was staring out of the window, day dreaming, and got a little rowdy …. Sophie Rutherford had to come bawl them out …." She hung her head briefly then. "She couldn't get me to answer her when she spoke to me and said 'I was away with the fairies ….' It only lasted for a few minutes …. Two at most …. But it was enough to unnerve a woman who is the most sensible and grounded person I know …."

"I guess it was the shock …. I just got so upset …. Over Casey …. Her suicide …. But …. it was a reminder, that no matter how much I think it might be under control …. Gone even …. It's still there …." She let out a ragged sigh, and Hawke recalled how tired and pale she had looked on the day of the funeral, and just how maternal Sophie Rutherford's behaviour toward Alex had been that day.

Was that what she had been brooding over?

That something like that would change the way he felt about her?

She saw his expression change and guessed the direction his thoughts were taking.

"String …." She spoke again before he could say anything. "That's not all …. Despite all their hard work, a brain scan later revealed that the blood vessels they had tried to repair were weak …. And that blood was building up …. Causing an aneurism ..."

She watched as realisation dawned in his beautiful deep blue eyes then and she felt a lump rise in her throat.

The moment of truth ….

He watched her in silence for several minutes, wrestling with what she had said.

"Why didn't you say something …." He finally managed at last.

"It's hardly an ice breaker over dinner …. Hey Hawke, great to see you after all this time, how's the soup …. and oh, by the way, there's this thing in my head that could burst at any time …. And I could just drop dead …."

She noticed him wince then, and realised that she had perhaps been a little too blunt ….

That he hadn't gotten quite as far as working out what might happen.

"Look String …. if, say for instance, we had met as complete strangers …. we had met for the first time …. Liked what we saw …. Decided we would like to get to know each other better …. Can you honestly say that you would have handled hearing that I had this …. thing …. on our first date?"

She had a point, Hawke knew, and he sighed softly, shocked by what she was telling him.

"You could have trusted me …."

"It had nothing to do with trusting you or not trusting you …." She reassured. "Would it have been any easier on the second date? Third date?" She asked him, her eyes imploring him to understand her feelings.

"It's not something that I am comfortable about talking about …. I don't enjoy laying my life out like a quilt for all and sundry to walk all over …. String, I told you I wasn't Tasha …. I'm a different person, and this is a different life …. Like lots of new stuff, I've had to learn to live with it …. When I meet new people I can get away with telling them I was born with it …. Or that I had a bad accident …. But not with you …. I have a past that I cannot hide from you …. But I don't want to have to keep explaining myself, I don't want to keep tripping up over my past …. I see the look in your eyes whenever it happens …. That murderous look you get on your face when you think about it …. About Moffett …." She sighed sadly then.

"I'm sorry, Alex …." He managed at last.

"At least now I don't have to worry that you will rush off and commit murder …." She gave him a weak smile then, taking some of the sting out of her words.

"You still should have told me …."

"I'm telling you now …."Her voice rose a notch and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth to stop herself from bursting into tears.

"I'm sorry …. Yes …. Maybe I should have …. But things were going so well …. It was just so nice to be able to relax and be myself …. I didn't want to complicate thing …. Spoil things …." She let out a long, ragged sigh.

"After all, it's not the same thing as finding out I am an uncoordinated klutz …. It's a scary thing, String. You remember how it was in the beginning with us …. I couldn't be sure what was going to happen between us …. and if all you really wanted was a friend …. A companion …. Easy come, easy go …. Someone to have a little fun with …." She paused to take a deep breath.

"I didn't know that I was going to fall so deeply in love with you …. And I didn't dare hope that you might begin to have feelings for me too …." She lowered her eyes then, but he could not fail to see the soft blush colouring her cheeks.

"Something like that can put a guy off …. It's a complication they can't or don't want to have to deal with …. It just made me cautious …. Made me realise that I should wait and see where we were headed …. Before I burdened you with it …." She confessed.

"And I guess I was just a little bit selfish …. I always meant to tell you …. But …. I also wanted to know what it felt like to love you …. To learn what it felt like to be loved by you …. To know that you loved me …. and that you could cope with this …. before I committed too much of my heart to you …. But I miscalculated …. I was already too deeply in love with you by the time we had our second date …. I fell in love with you back there at Red Star …. And despite the years in between …. I never stopped loving you. I wanted time with you, String …. Time to understand my feelings, and to find out what you were feeling too …. Time to be together, to have fun, to form a bond based on friendship as well as affection …. I knew if I told you right at the beginning, before we had a chance to get to know each other again …. you'd probably run a bloody mile …. "

"You're …. dying …." He finally choked out, the penny having finally dropped.

"No! No love …. I'm living …. Living every day to the fullest, but certainly not as if it is my last …. When I go …. It will be because it is my time …. But I refuse to live each day like I'm under a death sentence …." She told him defiantly now.

"I refuse to give into it …. Don't you see, if I did that, then he would have won …. Moffett …. He might just as well have killed me that night …."

Hawke sat perfectly still, watching her speak with such passion, and he realised that she had indeed given this a lot of thought.

His heart was racing in his chest ….

She was so brave ….

He could not help but admire her ….

"And the reason I've decided to tell you now …. Is …. Well …. Because things are getting serious between us now …. And I felt you had a right to know …. And because I don't want the man that I love, the man who loves me, the man that I eventually share the rest of my life with …. to act like it is a death sentence either …. Life has to go on …. As if everything is normal …."

"But it isn't normal …." His voice suddenly cracked. "You might not wake up one morning …"

"We can all say that, String .… Nobody lives forever …. None of us know when we are going to die …. None of us …. And that's as it should be …." She told him softly, but he could see what looked like disappointment in her eyes.

Obviously he was reacting in the way she had suspected he would ….

But dammit ….

He was only human ….

How else was he supposed to act?

He loved her ….

And here she was telling him that she had a serious medical condition that could snatch her …. And his happiness …. away from him …. without warning ….

If he had acted like it didn't mean a damn …. She would probably have been hurt and offended ….

She would probably have felt betrayed ….

"I have lived with this for two years …. Yes …. Two years I maybe had no right to…. Because, if the surgeons hadn't intervened, then I would have died …. Two years that have been a blessing in many ways, but hard nonetheless …. I don't think about it anymore. I refuse to dwell on it …. At first it was all I could think of …. that tomorrow might be my last day on this earth, but then I realised that thinking like that was counter productive …. I was in danger of turning it into a self fulfilling prophecy …. If I thought I was going to die today, then I probably would …. That wasn't healthy, String …. It was stopping me from living …. And what was the point …. I might just as well have been dead …. I might just as well have stayed in that coma …."

She let out a deep, ragged sigh, and he so wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and tell her that it would be all right ...

That he would deal with it ….. because he loved her and he wanted her in his life ….

But he couldn't ….

Suddenly unsure if he really could deal with it ….

Suddenly remembering just how painful it had been to lose Gabrielle ….

And what he felt for Alex was twice as powerful ….

Twice as deep ….

Could he ever come to terms with the idea that she too, one day, would leave him .…

Not because she wanted to ….

But because she had no choice ….

He would once again lose a woman that he loved ….

And he would be alone once more ….

He didn't know if he was strong enough ….

Maybe it would be better to live out the rest of his life alone than to subject himself to that kind of agony ….

Again ….

Maybe it just boiled down to the fact that he wasn't as courageous as she was.

"And so I stopped worrying about it and got on with the living …." She told him, watching the turmoil going on behind his blue eyes, her heart heavy in her chest.

"And …. if we are to go on together, String, I need to know that you can do the same. Accept it, be aware of it, but put it behind us and go on as if nothing has changed …." She paused briefly to take a breath.

"The last thing I want is for you to start blaming yourself. No guilt, no recriminations. Whatever time we are granted will be a blessing …. After all, we might never have found each other again …." A ghost of a smile curved at her lips, briefly, yet even then she could not help wondering if she was simply asking too much of him ….

"But, if you can't put it behind us …. If you try to wrap me up in cotton wool …. If all you can think about is that tomorrow might be my last day …. Then I don't think I can deal with that …." Her voice cracked then and she took a moment to gather her composure.

"I have no past …. At least not one that I can share with anyone except you, and that won't work either …. I'm not that person any more and this is a different life. My official past history is just a few contrived lines in a bio and some falsified papers. The only thing I can count on is a future. The greatest gift that anyone can give to me is a future …. With plans and aspirations and ambitions to aim for. Just like every other couple in the world starting out together on that great adventure called love. Be it a few hours, days, weeks or months …. And there's nothing to say that it won't be years and years and years …." This time the smile that curved at her lips was a little more confident and reassuring

"And I want nothing more than to have you at my side in that future. These last two years without you in my life have been the hardest …. The loneliest …." She told him, her eyes welling with huge tears, but burning fiercely with determination.

"But, I would much rather walk away and never see you again, than wake up every morning to see that look in your eyes ….. the one that says your terrified of losing me …. That you are terrified that this will be the day when we have to say goodbye …. Or maybe the day we might not get a chance to say goodbye …. And the pity …. I don't want your pity, String …. I just want your love …. And maybe …. One day, when you're ready …. If you're ever ready …. Your name …."

"Oh Alex …." He reached out and dragged her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she thought he might crack her ribs. "I love you …. I love you so much …."

"That's nice …." She started to weep then, yet despite the tears, there was a genuine smile of happiness on her lips as she realised that he was hardly holding her as though she were some delicate flower that might break.

It gave her a spark of hope.

"But don't be too hasty. Give yourself time to take it in …. And then, my dearest, darling …. Tell me again …." She sobbed softly, burying her face in his neck then.

"Tell me again, that you love me …. And when you do, I will want two promises from you …." She pulled away then to look up into his precious face once more, tears streaming unhindered down her face.

"One …. that you will always treat me exactly the same as you have up until today …. That you won't molly coddle me and treat me with kid gloves or like a precious china doll. I am not too delicate to do the ordinary things in life, I haven't let it stop me in the last two years …. without you in my life, and I won't be stopped from doing what everyone else takes for granted. It's my life …. And I want to enjoy it …. And …. That means wanting the man I share it with to enjoy it with me. Not to constantly be watching me, holding his breath and waiting for doomsday …." She told him through wet sobs.

"And secondly …. When I die …. When I'm gone, if I should happen to go first …. I want you to promise me that you won't turn in on yourself and blame yourself, cover yourself in grief and bury yourself alive. I need you to promise me that you will go on living …. Maybe even find someone else to love, someone who will love you. The last thing I want is you to bury yourself along with me. You have your life to live too. Your own fate ….. Which does not include throwing yourself into my grave after me …." She told him bluntly . "My death, your death …. is inevitable and there is nothing that you can do to stop it …. But hell, there's nothing to say that you won't go before me …." She forced a smile then and when he made to speak once more, she stilled him with a finger to his lips.

"Shush, love …. Think it through. You don't have to give me an answer now. I want you to be sure. Really sure …. And then, when you have given me your promises …. We will never speak of it again."

He knew that she was right ….

So damned smart …. So damned beautiful …. So damned brave …. And so damned wise ….

Whatever he said now would be an emotional reaction to her words ….

Not that what he told her would not be the truth ….

He did love her ….

And yes …. He would do his best to commit himself to the promises she wanted from him ….

But he knew in his heart that they were promises that he should not make ….

Could not make ….

Until he had sat down and thought all of this through rationally ….

Without emotion ….

He owed her ... Himself ….That much ….

He wasn't afraid of commitment ….

Marriage ….

His heart constricted in his chest as he realised that that was what she had been talking about when she had said that when he was ready …. If he was ever ready …. The only thing she wanted from him besides his love …. Was his name ….

Marriage ….

Mrs Stringfellow Hawke ….

Mrs Alexandra Hawke ….

It had such a lovely ring to it ….

And suddenly, the look that he had seen on her face that morning, when he had placed the small jewellery box before her, made sense ….

Just for an instant, she had thought that he was giving her a ring …. Asking her to share his life with him …. Committing himself to her ….

No wonder she had looked so crestfallen ….

If only for a moment …. Covering it so well ….

She had thought that he was offering her marriage ….

And why not …

Was it such a crazy idea?

Why not commit himself so completely to this woman he loved more than his own life?

In all honesty, it wasn't something that he had given serious thought to before …. After all, they were only just starting out ….

He knew he loved her and wanted to be with her ….

She satisfied all his needs ….

Friendship …. Companionship …. Love ….

Intimacy ….

But marriage ….

Hell ….

With the kind of life he had been living these past months ….

To commit himself to a long term relationship had hardly seemed fair ….

What if he were killed ….

Whomever he had a relationship with might one day find themselves a target for his enemies ….

Look at what had happened to Gabrielle ….

And she had been in the business ….

She had known the risks ….

How could he involve an innocent civilian?

This blind obsession ….

This mission he was on to find St John was his and his alone ….

But whoever shared his life could get dragged into the middle of all kinds of dirty tricks ….

Before Alex came into his life, the idea of marriage had not even troubled him ….

It was out of the question ….

He had hardened his heart to any kind of hope that one day he might have a wife …. Children ….

Children ….

Oh God ….

What if they had a child ….

More than one ….

How would he cope with taking care of children ….

Their children ….

If ….

If Alex died ….

Left him to raise their children alone ….

And how fair would it be to any child, bringing it into the world, not knowing if its mother would be around to see it grow up …. Knowing that his or her Mamma might not be around when he or she most needed her ….

And yet ….

If it happened ….

He knew that he would find a way to cope ….

He loved children, always had …. had an affinity with them that even he did not really understand ….

And how could he not love a child that had come from his and Alex's love for each other ….

Their child ….

Children ….

Wow!

What the hell was he thinking?

What the hell was she thinking!

Hawke slammed the brakes on his racing thoughts, paused and took in a deep, shuddering breath.

Wait a minute ….

He was going way too fast ….

After all ….

If he stopped and thought about it ….

Really thought about it ….

All she was really asking was that they live each day as it came .… In as normal a fashion as they could ….

That they make plans ….

That they look forward to the future …. Together ….

He could do that? Couldn't he?

Couldn't he?

As Alex rested her cheek against his chest, she could hear his heart pounding, racing, and she could guess what was making it beat so rapidly.

She had given him a lot to think about ….

She could practically hear his brain working ….

Poor baby ….

All she could do was hope, and pray that he would understand what she had ultimately been asking of him ….

Just to love her, as he would love any other woman, and not try to cocoon her from life ….

To live each day in peace and contentment …. Happy with what they had …. Not fearing or dreading what might lie ahead ….

She had to trust that his heart would reach that conclusion …. And that his head would then follow where it lead ….

And if his heart couldn't take that leap of faith ….

She would rather cause him a little heartache now …. Than live with the knowledge that one day she would break his heart beyond repair and condemn him to a life of grief and guilt …. And loneliness.

If she walked away now …. Before things got too complicated …. At least she would know that she had left him with enough of his heart in tact that one day, he might be able to love again ….

Carefully, Alex disentangled herself from his embrace, and this time he did not try to stop her. She could see the conflict on his face, the anguish and the confusion as he wrestled with the task she had set him ….

All she could do was hope and pray that he was up to the task ….

"I'm tired, String …. All this fresh air …." She smiled bravely although fresh tears were already threatening. "I think I'll go on up to bed …. That's if you don't mind …."

"No …. Do you want me to sleep down here tonight?" He offered, suddenly unsure how to act around her.

"Well …. I kind of like having your chest as a pillow …." She smiled shyly then. "But …. I guess it's up to you …. I don't want to drive you out of your bed …. If anyone is going to be sleeping down here, it should be me …."

"Alex …."

"I understand you need time to think, String. You can have all the time you need. I want you to be sure …. Really sure …. So think it through …. Talk it over with your Dominic, if you feel able to …. I can wait …. But please, don't shut me out …." Her voice cracked then and fresh tears tumbled down through her lashes and onto her cheeks. "If tonight is all that we might have …. I want to be with you …."

"I want to be with you too …." He confessed raggedly, reaching out to pull her back into the comforting circle of his embrace, only to put her away from him again and clamp his lips firmly down on to hers.

He knew that he had to show her right away, that nothing had changed ….

That he wasn't seeing her in a different light ….

As a young woman, living under the threat of death ….

But that she was as beautiful and desirable to him now as she had been last night …. This afternoon ….

That nothing had changed ….

That his need for her had not diminished ….

Despite the fact that his mind was in utter turmoil ….

"I'll be up in a little while …." He assured her with a confident smile when they parted at last. "I have to see to the fire …. Tet ... But I will be up shortly, so don't take up all the bed …."

She nodded in understand and reluctantly drew away from him, her fingers loathed to break contact with his hand as she moved slowly toward the stairs.

After she had disappeared at the top of the stairs, Stringfellow Hawke went to the bar and poured himself a liberal amount of brandy in a balloon glass and then returning to the couch, sat, rolling the glass between his palms, warming the deep amber liquid before finally taking a sip.

As the alcohol scorched its way down his throat, he closed his eyes and squeezed out the tears that had been gathering ….

Silently allowing them to wash down his rugged cheeks ….

Unable to stop himself from silently asking of the heavens:

"Why …. Why the hell do you keep doing this to me …. And why this woman …. Why her …. She's barely a child …. Hardly begun to live …. And hasn't she been through enough already, damn you …. Damn you …. Damn me …. If you must …. But leave her out of it …. Why …. Why do you keep taking away the women that I love …."

Knightsbridge – Headquarters of The Firm.

Saturday 19th May, 1984.

Michael Coldsmith Brigg's III's Office – 10.45pm.

Marella watched as Archangel scanned through the latest reports and waited for him to comment, as she knew that he surely would.

Something was going on ….

She could smell it ….

Taste it ….

Why would a lowly Russian General who had been consigned to Siberia for the last six months suddenly turn up in the West ….

With a cover story and papers to back it up, that could only have been obtained through official channels.

A quick witted official at Passport control had smelled a rat ….

Able to tell the difference between a German accent and a Russian accent because although he was of German ancestry, he had been raised in a predominantly Russian neighbourhood in Berlin.

They got lucky.

He had immediately made certain that close circuit television at the airport had captured a likeness of the Russian and had made sure it found its way to the people who needed to know, along with the name on his passport.

Klaus Bauer.

A few discreet telephone calls around town had provided his current location and the fact that he had met up with another two men, colleagues from the same phoney movie company he claimed to be a Director of and who had entered the country via Miami and Boston respectively and then made their way by internal flights to Los Angeles.

The fact that they did not seem to be concerned about leaving a trail bothered Marella.

She couldn't help feeling that whilst they were watching Sevchenko and his colleagues, someone else might be trying to sneak in the through backdoor ….

But, as Archangel was fond of saying.

She was suspicious by nature. And distrustful by training.

Three high ranking Russian military men had arrived on American soil ….

And the Firm hadn't the slightest idea that they were coming, or what they were here for ….

But she could hazard a guess.

Archangel was massaging his ear lobe with his fingers as he read the report and when he had finished he set it aside with a deep sigh.

"I don't like it …."

"Me neither." She agreed.

"What do we know about Sevchenko anyway?"

"No much …. He's been in Siberia for about six months, before that he was in Afghanistan …."

"Oh lucky boy …. He must have really ticked someone off. Two of the best spots in the world to serve in the Russian military …." Archangel quipped.

"His record is spotless …. Although it does appear that he isn't the most ambitious man in the Russian Army." She continued, ignoring his comments. "Unmarried, no children, career man. Served willingly and ably, although never attracting attention to himself. He's risen through the ranks slowly and it looks like he's reached a plateau in his career. Could be he's tired of the climate and just fancies a move to California …." She added with a rueful smile.

"Set up surveillance …." Archangel made his decision quickly and with a sigh.

"Already on to it, Sir …. How do you want to play it?"

"Covertly. I want them to keep their distance, and definitely no interaction. Let Bauer and his friends keep thinking that they are here unobserved. Twenty four hour surveillance for a few days might reveal their true intention."

"What about Hawke?"

"What about him? We don't know that they are here specifically for Airwolf …. Although, I do have to concur, that that could be their target."

"Shouldn't we at least warn him?"

"Not until we have something concrete to tell him. Besides, he's off on some romantic interlude, didn't you tell me …." He reminded her with a smug look.

"Hawke can handle himself, and, if the Russians do make a beeline for Santini Air …. They'll probably claim that they need stunt pilots …. Indeed, that's probably their cover story for being here …. And who are we to question the validity of that? We can't haul them in on suspicion of wanting to steal something that officially, we never developed ….and we don't have any more …. And under those circumstances, Hawke is a private citizen …. It would be up to him to report any theft …. And I would like to see him explain that away …." He grinned.

"I'll talk to Peck right away …. He and his team are awaiting orders. They can be set up and in place before midnight." She advised him.

"Midnight it is then …. And Marella …. Tell them I want updates every four hours."

"Right Sir …. Anything else?"

"No …. I guess that's about it for now …." She made to say something else and he raised an eyebrow in query.

It wasn't like her to question his orders. However, she seemed to think better of whatever it was she had been about to say and simply turned on her heel and headed out of his office.

In her own small office just down the hallway, Marella made short work of dealing with setting up the surveillance on the Russians, speaking with the leader of one of their crack surveillance teams, Gerald Peck, head of Alpha team, making arrangements with him to begin the covert surveillance of the Russian trio from midnight that night.

After she had concluded her call with Peck, Marella made a few more discreet phone calls and then sat back from her desk and chewed thoughtfully on a neatly manicured fingernail for a moment.

What she had just learned would have been just as easy for Archangel to discover too, if he had asked …..

And she could not understand why he had not chosen to go down that route.

Was he so hung up on the possible threat to Airwolf that he simply hadn't seen an alternative to simply surveilling the Russians here in the States ….

There was also intel to be gathered on the ground in the Soviet Union ….

They already had two agents, deep under cover, in the right region of the Soviet Union, who could easily be pulled off their current missions to infiltrate the base in Siberia, where Sevchenko had been stationed ….

To try to discover what was going on there that had prompted his trip to the West ….

It couldn't hurt to have someone on the inside …. poking around ….

Discreetly ….

It could be useful to know what went on at the base ….

What if the Russians were working on their own version of Airwolf there? An insider could dig up vital information on just how far they had got ….

Maybe even sabotage their prototype …. If not completely destroy their version of the Mach 1 super chopper …. At least do enough damage to set them back several years in their development of it ….

Had they encountered difficulties with their prototype helicopter and had sent Sevchenko and his team here to try to determine how the American team had overcome similar problems?

Maybe they weren't interested in trying to steal the hardware ….

But just wanted to learn about her systems and armaments so that they could improve on them ….

According to her sources, the base had just put in a request for a replacement medic, to cover whilst their current doctor went on leave due to nervous stress. It would be a simple matter of intercepting orders and replacing the Soviet's chosen replacement with one of their agents.

The other could then set up a base close by and act as back up should there become a need to beat a hasty retreat.

Why hadn't Michael chosen to go this route?

Of course, she had the authority to give the go ahead to pull both agents off their current missions, both of which had stalled after promising starts …. And despatch them to Siberia.

Whatever they learned would prove to be valuable ….

As it would fill a gap in their present intelligence about that particular base …. Its personnel ….

Just because Archangel hadn't given her instructions to do something like this, it didn't follow that he would disapprove. Usually he was impressed and pleased with her taking the initiative.

He already had so much on his mind, he couldn't think of everything ….

And that was where she came in.

She wasn't just a glorified secretary, no matter what people around here thought ….

Actually, that was a pretty good cover for what she actually did.

She had clout.

She had the authority to conduct her own enquiries and handle her own group of agents working on numerous special projects currently under development.

And she was used to justifying her actions to Archangel after the fact ….

She was his assistant, but that didn't mean that she didn't have her own set of responsibilities.

He would understand her reasoning ….

When she explained it to him.

He would support her decision ….

Perhaps even applaud it ….

After all, what was she really doing …. Except covering every angle ….

After several minutes of further deep contemplation, Marella reached out for the telephone and placed a call which would set the change in orders in action, asking the switchboard operator to connect her with the Head of Foreign Intelligence at home on his secure line.

A courtesy call informing him of her plans to shuffle a couple of his agents around in the field and to request that the appropriate operative in Moscow find out who the Russians intended to send to Siberia, and to make the admin switch that would send Dr Maggie Brown, currently posing as Dr Yana Petrova, code name Gypsy, to the base and place Steven McGee, currently posing as factory worker Mischa Ivanov, code name Minstrel, close by as back up.

Neither had worked with the other before, so there would be no way of connecting them if either's cover was broken ….

And, both were experienced and capable agents ….

And both could be in place within twenty four hours ….

The nature of their mission ….

Watch ….

And wait ….

Gather as much Intel as they could and report back.

Their next step would very much depend on what they discovered.

When she had finished the call and hung up the telephone, Marella sat back from her desk, her fingers playing absently with a strand of her dark, curly hair.

She knew that she had made the right decision.

What did they have to lose?

If Gypsy could quickly learn what was going on at the base, it would give them a heads up ….

A clue as to what Sevchenko and the others wanted here in the States ….

And that could help to prevent Sevchenko succeeding with his mission.

To be continued …