Seated at the dining room table, an excellent glass of Montcerhet in hand Roper let the conversation wash over him. It was so strange, he mused. To think of the only family he'd ever known gone and to find himself suddenly surrounded by a new one.
Anger ate at him for Nhi Huong's deception and the awkwardness of finding he had a whole new family he knew nothing about. How could she have done that? he wondered. It was like his whole life had been a lie.
Abruptly, a sense of being watched settled over him. Taking a swig of the wine in his glass, Roper looked up. Sapphire blue eyes the exact shade of his own met his.
Raising his glass in a silent toast, Hawke took a sip of his own wine. Frankly accessing, Hawke gazed back at him, his expression giving away nothing. An instant later, he had rejoined the conversation that ebbed and flowed around him as if the moment had never happened.
Roper sighed.
Dinner over, Michael and Marella chatted by the massive stone fireplace, the warmth of the flames at their backs. Saint John sprawled on the sofa across from them, Amelia draped over his lap asleep. Idly he caressed her reddish-brown hair as they discussed the morning's plans. Carrying a cup of coffee, Caitlin joined the others by the fireplace.
Roper shifted restlessly. The easy familiarity of the others threatened to choke him, and resentment flared. He didn't fit here, and he didn't fit in his old life, he thought angrily.
Unable to stand it any longer, he strode for the door. Stepping outside, it clicked shut with a sound of finality as he closed it behind him. Glad for the escape, he drew a shuddering breath, raking a slim hand through his already rumpled hair. Morosely, he leaned on the porch rail staring out at the lake.
On the cool evening winds, the notes of a cello expertly played teased his ear. Mournful and sad they matched his mood, and unwillingly he found himself drawn down the path towards the sound.
Thirty feet from the dock, he froze torn between listening, and a sudden desire to return to the cabin.
The music paused, and Hawke looked up. "You might as well come the rest of the way if you're going to listen," he said sardonically. "It's not like I don't know you're there."
Irritated, the younger man shrugged. Carefully, he picked his way down the path, the shadowy moonlight illuminating it and glittering off the darkened lake. Reaching the edge of the dock, he flung himself down on an ancient stump.
Finishing the piece, String allowed the notes to fade in the night as he rested his bow on his leg. "Didn't expect you out here," he commented at long last, the silence wearing at even him.
"I didn't expect to find me out here either," the other remarked wryly.
"Worried about tomorrow?"
"No," he replied. "Well, maybe."
Thoughtfully Hawke picked up the bow again, fingering it. After a moment he chose a Russian song, one he'd heard long ago on one of his first missions with Airwolf. Somehow tonight it seemed appropriate. Sliding through the opening notes, he thought back to Tania, the Russian agent's daughter he'd gotten out - and how angry she'd been. Perhaps, she and Roper weren't so different after all.
"I could go," he offered.
"No," Roper replied, strangely comforted by the offer. "I said I'll do it. I'll do it."
"Your choice," Hawke replied. He was quiet for a long minute before finally speaking. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm worried too. Stroking across the strings, the melody echoed on the night air, moody and melancholy.
"Not really," Roper replied his tone wry, as he looked at String.
Finishing the song, Hawke hesitated, not knowing what else to say to his son. His son? How strange was that - he had a full grown son he didn't even know.
Sighing, his shoulders slumped. He picked up the camp stool and rose, hefting the cello and bow in his other hand. "Got an early call tomorrow," he said. "Don't stay out to late," with that he strode silently off the dock and up the path towards the cabin.
Roper stared after him in irritation, hesitating. A sudden breeze off the lake rifled his hair, causing him to shiver. The temperature was dropping, he mused idly. Rubbing his hands on well-worn jeans, he rose. The cry of a wolf on the hunt echoed faintly in the distance. Tomorrow, that'd be them he thought with disquiet - he only hoped they'd be the wolf and not the prey.
Wearily, Hawke climbed the stairs to the upstairs loft, Michael and Marella had left at long last, Saint John was long asleep in the downstairs guest bedroom recovering from the events of the day. Roper had drawn the sofa. Seb slept in the kids room.
Stepping into the master bedroom, blue eyes lit on the lithe figure of his wife as she prepared for bed. "Hey, you," she said looking up with a smile. "I'd about decided I was going to have to send out a search party to find you."
Hawke shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry, time got away."
"Um-hm," Cait murmured, not buying it for a minute. "You missed saying good-bye to Michael and Marella."
"I'll make it up to them next time," he murmured, sliding his arms around her from behind.
"You will?" she replied archly, watching him in the mirror.
"Um-hm," he whispered, his lips nuzzling her neck. "Promise," his warm breath tickled her ear damply as he pulled her closer.
Caitlin sighed in contentment, leaning back against him. "Well, I guess I could let you off the hook this once. If you promise."
"Scout's honor," String whispered, tightening his arms around her and drawing her towards the bed.
"Mm-mm," she replied, setting the brush down. "In that case…"
Cuddling afterwards, her head comfortably resting on his shoulder, fingers idly tracing the planes of his stomach as he stroked her hair a sudden, errant thought teased her mind.
Blue-green eyes narrowed as she levered herself up on one elbow. "Hawke," she demanded her tone serious.
"Mmmh?" one blue eye cracked open looking at her. The stroking stopped.
"Were you ever actually a boy scout?"
Laughter flashed in the blue eyes. "No," he chuckled, amused at her indignant expression.
"Oh-hh, you!" she exclaimed, punching him in the shoulder. "I should have known!" she grumbled.
"But Cait," he protested grinning, his hand sliding to the back of her neck as he rolled over, pinning her beneath him.
"Yeah?" she questioned warily, catching the wicked glint in his eyes.
"I always come prepared."
Groaning at his bad pun, her fingers tangled in his hair even as his lips came down on hers.
Dreaming, Caitlin startled awake disoriented. Laying on her side, heart pounding she blinked at the flickering glow of the logs in the hearth trying to place what had woken her.
Beside her, she felt Hawke flinch suddenly, the movement abrupt and awkward
She swooped through the skies like an eagle attacking her prey. The wind rushed past her, echoing her keening cry. Twisting through the mountains in the loaming light. Shadowy, they leaned in, edging at her wings.
Fear pounded in his throat. The undeniable sense of the prey before it fell. Light crashed before him, illuminating the valley below.
Sprawled beneath him, broken and in flames lay another bird - Airwolf! He thought, but not - he was flying her. Confusion pulled at his mind.
The wind clawed at her, at him, threatening to pull her from his grasp, fling him to the canyon below. Death, he sensed it, felt it with every fiber of his being. His, the lady's. The flame licked wreckage held it, yet it called him closer. She swooped low, her downwash fanning the flames.
He saw the body, knew it before he could distinguish. Blond, brown hair matted with blood, skin ashen in the flickering light.
"No," he whispered. "No!" the cry wrenched from him, becoming almost a scream. "No, please no, not this time!" the sob clawed at his throat, choking him, pulling him under.
Stretching, she reached for him, even as his yell woke him, clawing and gasping for air, trembling in her arms. "Shh-hh," she whispered, soothing, stroking, careful not to startle him. Cool hands gentle on hot, fevered skin. "It's okay, breath,. It's just a dream, just a dream."
Wide blue eyes focused on her, dilated beyond belief, chest heaving as he sat. "Cait?" he asked, the tone uncertain, confused.
"Shh-hh, hush. It's okay, baby," she murmured rubbing his shoulder, his arm. Clarity surfaced in the blue eyes slowly, the confusion ebbing away. Drawing an uneven breath, he subsided. Hawke collapsed on the pillow his chest still heaving. Struggling he drew a long, halting breath, held it, let it go. Tried again.
Nestling against him, she pressed close. Slender fingers stroked his hair, silky beneath her touch. Slowly, she felt the tension ease, the dream dissipate and at last he slept, the breaths long and slow.
Sighing, he shifted position draping one arm loosely over her waist. Sliding her arm around him, she heard him breath a drowsy, contented sigh. His breath warm against her shoulder, he slept cradled against her peacefully.
Wearily, she exhaled, wishing she could do the same. It'd been a long time since he'd had the dreams, she'd hoped they were gone for good. To know they were back, did nothing to ease the looming sense of disaster that had been hanging over her for days.
Tossing restlessly on the downstairs sofa, Roper snatched instantly awake at the muffled yell, his hand reaching for the Beretta under his pillow. Heart pounding, he waited in the silence.
When the yell came this time, he was ready. Slinging the throw off his legs, he rounded the stairs gun drawn and in bare feet as he ran silently up the stairs. Cautiously he checked the kids room, finding nothing out of place he stalked towards the master bedroom. Pausing outside the door, he hesitated back against the wall, gun eye level as his ears strained for some hint. None came, he could hear the faint crackle of the fire - nothing more.
Dropping down he swung into the room, gun safety off, finger on the trigger. Anxiously he panned the room, searching for danger.
He heard Caitlin's gasp before he saw her. Blue-green eyes widened and narrowed at the form in the doorway. "What are you doing?" she hissed, detangling herself from Hawke and reaching for her robe.
Sensing no threat, Roper clicked the safety back on his gun before dropping his arm to his side. "I heard a yell," he said defensively. "I was sure it came from up here."
Hawke muttered and stirred restlessly. Eyeing him, Caitlin circled the end of the bed, grabbing Roper's arm and hustling him out the door and down the stairs. "Shh-hh," she whispered her tone angry, "You'll wake Hawke."
Practically dragging him down the stairs, Cait pulled him outside, shutting the door carefully behind her. "Now," she demanded, rounding on him. "Spill - what was that up there all about? You realize you could've gotten yourself killed?"
"I… hey, wait a minute," he flared. "I'm the good guy here."
"Really," Cait retorted, her tone rife with suspicion. "Then what were you doing standing in my bedroom with a gun pointed at me?"
Finding himself abruptly on the defensive, he threw his hands in the air. "Me?" he snarled. "What was all the yelling about? I thought somebody had gotten in the house."
"The yelling…" Cait's voice dropped off, suddenly chagrined. "Uh," she sighed raking a hand through her tousled hair. "I guess I owe you an apology."
"Apology, hell," he threw back. "What I'd like is an explanation. What the heck was that all about?"
"Just a dream," she murmured. "Just a dream." He thought he caught her mutter, "I hope."
"Heck of a dream."
"Yeah, well. When Hawke has them, he does a bang up job," she retorted.
"I can see that," he said catching her trembling hand in his own. "Want to tell me what this is all about?"
Gingerly, she gestured to the porch swing. He seated himself, drawing her down with him. She didn't speak for a long moment trying to decide where to begin.
"Well," he prompted.
Heaving a deep breath, she began. "He's always had the dreams - at least as long as I've known him. With the life he's had, I guess the surprise is that he doesn't have them all the time. Dom used to say he came back from 'Nam with them. Would wake him up, fit to screaming the house down."
Sharp blue eyes winced. "Damn. Some sort of post traumatic stress?"
Cait nodded. "As time passed it got better, not great but better. He took his brother's disappearance in Vietnam to heart. Went to work for the Firm - Archangel, started his own personal crusade to get Saint John back, stole Airwolf."
"He stole what?!" Roper exclaimed. "You're kidding me."
"No," Cait replied with a faint grin. "I'm not kidding."
"But he and Michael…" he began.
"Well, a lot has happened. Just understand that while she's solved a lot of problems, she draws her fair share of trouble and then some, too."
"I guess I can see that," Roper conceded quietly.
"Hawke has more than his fair share of ghosts," Cait sighed. " 'Nam brought some, and the Lady's brought probably just as many and they have a funny way of resurrecting themselves when you least expect it. Tonight was one of those times," she shivered in the cool night air.
Roper rubbed his hand up and down her arm trying to warm her up. "You want to go in?" he asked concern lighting his eyes.
She shook her head. "No, I just want you to understand. You being here has woken some very old ghosts and a few new ones."
He nodded, not speaking.
She paused for a long moment as if debating whether to say more. At last she spoke, her voice faint. "He's not the only one having dreams this time, String. I don't know what the two of you have stirred up, but it isn't good."
Startled, he looked at her, a faint frown marring his forehead. Cait wanted to cry. He looked more like Hawke in that moment than Nicky did.
"Be careful," she whispered. "Be careful and you bring him back to me safe."
Swallowing, he nodded feeling like he was being sucked in by forces he couldn't even begin to understand.
"Promise," she demanded, clutching his arm.
"I promise," he whispered, icy blue eyes meeting hers. "I promise."
Dawn broke clear and cold over the lake. The orange glow of the sun climbing in the sky, even as fingers of pink and orange warmed and colored the mountains. Wrapped in a quilt, Caitlin sat on the bench by the dock a cup of coffee in her hand, Roper hunched by her side when Hawke walked out.
Shoving the sleeves of his sweater up his forearms, he paused at the cozy picture they made, before trailing over.
"Hey, you," he greeted her, his eyes crinkling as he kissed her good morning.
"Hey, yourself," she responded, tasting the mintiness of his toothpaste as she returned his kiss.
"That coffee?" he asked, his voice hopeful as his hand hovered near her mug.
"Yeah," Caitlin gave up her mug.
Sipping the hot liquid, Hawke greeted the dark-haired pilot. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," the other replied, earning a baleful glare from Caitlin as her head snapped up.
Wondering what he'd missed, Hawke's eyes narrowed at them suspiciously.
Roper and Caitlin scooted down, making room for him on the bench. Pensively, Hawke joined them. He handed the coffee back to Cait. "You ready to put the game into play?" he asked.
"Already done," Roper replied.
Eyes widening, String's gaze flew to Roper's face before the mask slammed down implacably. "What do you mean?"
Roper got up and paced, feeling the heat of Hawke's glare on his back. "I've already spoke with Michael. Things are as ready on his end as they're ever gonna be."
"Oh?" Hawke replied, his tone carefully neutral.
"He's got a team on standby to do waterfall surveillance when we make the drop. Seb and I will go back to Red Star and go from here. You and Cait can follow in Airwolf, provide back-up."
"Really," Hawke said, his tone frosty as he gained his feet. "I appreciate you letting me in on your plans."
Roper's icy glare met Hawke's. "You weren't up. The call came. I handled it," he replied, his own voice hard.
"So I hear," Hawke bit out. "You could have woke me," he pointed out.
"I could've," the other allowed. "I didn't."
Angrily Hawke turned on his heel, raking his hands through his hair before shoving them in his jeans pockets. The attempt to control his temper was obvious. A muscle ticked in his lean jaw.
"Alright, fine," he said, coming to a decision. Heaving a harsh breath he asked, " When's the drop?"
"Two hours."
Hawke's eyebrows rose. "Where?" he asked tersely.
"They'll contact us."
Hawke cursed. "You do know, it'll take you a good portion of that just to get to Red Star?"
"Yeah," Roper replied soberly. "That's why Seb is getting the 'copter ready to go now."
Hawke sighed. "Then I guess I'd better go get the Lady up."
Roper nodded, patting Cait's shoulder as he turned to go. His steps clattered on the wood planking as he headed off.
"Roper!" Hawke called.
The younger man turned inquisitively, eyeing Hawke who stood with head bowed, thumbs in worn jeans pockets.
"Yeah?"
Hawke raised his head, the icy stare deadly as he met Roper's. "Next time, keep me in the loop."
Roper nodded.
