CHAPTER 11

Looming somewhere near consciousness, Dominic Santini involuntarily stretched as if reaching for consciousness up yet somehow unable to attain it. There were voices all around him, but they sounded garbled and far away. Gradually they became clearer until he could pick out some of them, although still not comprehending the actual words.

"Now looking good… how much of a chance…. Is it even worth it, the damage…."

Could they be talking about him? He wondered anxiously.

"They're here…. No, not long…."

He fought to open his eyelids, tried to escape the dark weight that battled him every step of the way. And lost. Try as he might, he couldn't muster the strength to fully rejoin the world around him; then, slowly, he was falling, falling prey to the darkness he tried so hard to escape.

\A/

Pushing the wheelchair with Hawke in it, Caitlin entered the guarded corridor on the clinic adjacent to Knightsbridge. Michael escorted her through it, falling into step beside her.

"How is he?" Michael asked in a low whisper in an effort to keep Hawke from hearing him.

"Not great. I'm worried about him."

That much was obvious. The usually lively redhead looked disheveled and tired from the sudden stresses that had recently been thrown into her life. He probably looked about the same way though, he admitted ruefully. Plenty of questions had arisen when the Santini Air disappeared; since it had been found, there had only been more questions and worries.

Was it and accident? Pilot error or mechanical failure? Or was there more to it than that? No one knew. That was why he had stepped up the security and taken all the measures he could to find Hawke and Le. Still, it had done him no good. Whoever was responsible for this mess, if any person was, was good. Too good.

"Would you have on of the doctors check him out before we leave?" she requested. "I know he's undoubtedly tired and most likely still in a lot of pain, but…" she tossed a quick glance at String who was slumped into the wheelchair only half awake. "He collapsed on the dock last night, not surprising since he's not supposed to be walking on his own, but he was out cold for quite a while."

"No problem. We'll even keep him here, if necessary by force. Although at the moment he doesn't look like he would put up too much fuss."

"Let him see Saint John first though, I think it would mean a lot."

The spy nodded his understanding and stopped to pull a door open for open. "You know where I'll be when you're done."

She pushed Hawke inside up next to his brother's bed and watched as he unexpectedly roused, uttering a ghost of a thanks to her before looking towards Saint John.

"It's not fair," he murmured inaudibly. He knew like wasn't fair, but this was too much. After a tragic childhood followed by years of imprisonment, Saint John deserved a break, anything but this.

He was the one that deserved punishment, not Saint John. He couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had made stupid decisions and hurt the ones he loved and could understand this as some kind of retribution. Why Sinj though? And Dom? While he was at least starting to get better, he hadn't done anything but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once again, he had gotten out comparatively well to the others; the only difference was that so far no one was dead.

Dragging a shaking, weary hand through brown fringe that was getting long, he let out a deep sigh and looked behind him at the expectant looking doctor waiting just inside the door undoubtedly for him. He wasn't going to fight them this time though. He didn't have the strength or will power for it. They could do whatever they wanted to him, and honestly, he didn't care anymore.

He gave them a weak nod indicating he was done. He didn't want to be, but nothing he said or did would make any difference now, so why bother?

The white overcoated doctor who had such a grim look on his face he couldn't help but wonder if he was really going to be hospitalized or tortured, stalked silently to him, clench the handles of the chair, and pushed him quietly away.

\A/

It was the gentle touch of a warm hand on her shoulder that awakened Caitlin O'Shaunessey several hours later. Yawning sleepily, she slowly sat up and took inventory of her surroundings, soon realizing she had somehow managed to end up in Michael's office.

"If you're hungry you're welcome to join Marella and I for dinner," Michael invited. "It's nothing too fancy, but with things as hectic as they've been I thought you might not have had a decent meal in a while."

"That would be great; I'll get ready now." She quickly got up and started toward the restroom, trying to avoid making them wait because of their gracious invitation but stopped abruptly mid-stride. "How is he?"

"About the same.'

She nodded silently. "Okay, I'll be ready in just a couple minutes.'

"Take your time." He walked out of the office, tiredness evident by the heavy limp. He didn't know what else to do. Dominic was slowly recovery but no one could say to what extent at this point. Saint John was no better, and Hawke had given up hope. Meanwhile everyone around them, himself included, was burning out, unable to keep up with the constant strain.

"Uh, Michael," Caitlin called, looking ten times better after he nap and cleaning up a bit. "I can't go to dinner after all. I need to get to the cabin and Le."

"That's not a problem. Marella is on her way back with Le now."

"How'd you know-"

"Hawke let it slip," Michael answered with a brief grin. "Despite his faults, he tries to watch out for the family."

"Yeah, that's something he never forgets."