It wasn't long after he put the record playing, light classical music, when String announced he was going to retire. With Liona already having gone up to the sleeping loft, Michael kept a prying eye on him. String could hardly be bothered. What Michael thought or didn't think was none of his business and he didn't care what the man thought either way.
Marella simply said good night from her position on the couch where she was lying curled up, a blanket snuggled around her.
With the music and the sound of the fires crackling in both of his fireplaces, the cabin oozed a sense of comfort and peace that String treasured above pretty much everything else.
One of the planks creaked beneath his feet when he walked onto the landing. The heat here felt pleasant on his skin when he got rid of his shirt. His shoes and socks were next to go. He kept on his pants though, knowing he had nothing underneath and he didn't want to shock Liona or confront her with his nudity right away, even if she already had first hand experience by now.
Not wearing underwear, or going 'commando' as they'd started calling the practice at universities, was a habit that had stuck after his tours in the Vietnam War. A wry smile tugged at his lips when his mind took him back in time many years ago…
When St. John came back from his first tour in Vietnam, String had idolized his big brother even more and had been adamant to join him on the next one.
Knowing there was no chance of stopping his little brother once he'd set his mind to something, St. John had pulled a few strings so his younger brother was placed in his division so he could keep an eye on him. His friends had made countless fun of St. John having become his brother's keeper, until String proved himself a great strategist and expert pilot. That first tour though… Oh, they'd not said a word, seeing String wearing his tight briefs. How was he to know that the extended periods of time in the hot, wet jungle left little time for cleaning his skivvies? Or not enough space in his backpack to carry changes of underwear?
A few weeks into his first tour, and St. John's second and last, String suffered a fungal infection that affected the skin of his genitals, his inner thighs and even his buttocks.
When he'd awkwardly left the medical tent, having been given a bottle of talc and the advice to 'increase ventilation' and 'reduce moisture', his brother and friends had laughed their heads off. Realizing he'd been the butt of a joke for weeks, String was at first furious, but soon shared in the laughter. That's when he learned it was better to ditch his undies altogether. He still did.
Though that particular habit had stuck, the forced habit of not showering for days was abandoned the moment he returned. Never had String appreciated a shower or an invigorating swim in the lake more than those first months after his return. He could still vividly remember the pungent smell of sweat and unwashed bodies and sometimes, after a long hot day at Santini Air, his own sweat could trigger a lot of memories… and demons.
He probably should be grateful though. Some of his war buddies mentioned experiencing vivid flashbacks and nightmares that had them thrashing around in their beds, so real did they feel. String couldn't imagine being able to fly Airwolf if the mere noise of the helicopter's chain-guns might trigger a flashback. And not being able to fly the Lady… It was a thought he didn't even want to contemplate. He needed to be able to fly, at his best, to be able to find St. John.
He shook his head when his mind threatened to go down a darker path as he didn't feel like dwelling on the past for another moment, not when there was a much more pleasant option available to him. He slowly approached the bed, not entirely sure what to expect. When he beheld the sight that greeted him, his heart nearly slammed from his chest.
There she was… Her beautiful hair spread around her shoulders, the light of the flames in the fireplace transforming its color, making the golden tones yield to the hues of a rising sun. She was dressed in her simple white wool nightgown that reached mid thigh, the one he had the immense pleasure of peeling from her body just the night before. A piece of wood crackled in the fireplace, shooting up tiny sparks. The warm light bounced off her skin, even underneath the wool garment, revealing quite a lot. His eyes slowly traveled up until they locked with hers and the unveiled look of interest he detected in them was nearly his undoing. Then he sighed inwardly. With Archangel and Marella sweetly sleeping not that far away from them, introducing Liona further to the delights of lovemaking was out of the question. And, knowing how quickly things could heat up between them, he realized there wasn't much chance for a bit of fondling either.
When he crashed down besides her, his arms beneath his head, he could sense her rolling onto her side. This time the sigh he released was very audible. "I should have kicked them out the moment Archangel even thought of stayin' the night," he mumbled and turned on his side to look at Liona. She looked so utterly desirable, not being able to do the things he longed to do would undoubtedly drive him nuts.
Though, he supposed he should be thankful that she was there at all. After the way he'd treated her, and hurt her, in more ways than one, it was a miracle she was even here with him. She didn't resist when he tilted her face to look at him. He gently brushed his fingers along her cheek, her nose… her lips.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "for how hard I was on you and for not even noticin' what I was takin' from you. I should have been more gentle and I'm awfully sorry I wasn't."
"You more than made up for that last night," she said softly, looking up at him with that same hint of wonder in her eyes he'd noticed the night before. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. He knew that he was the one who'd taken her virginity, so of course she was inexperienced. Now he started to wonder if she'd been inexperienced in other areas as well.
"Lio, when you said there was little opportunity for curiosity and romance, does that include… all curiosity? I mean…" he asked her quietly.
"Dumaine made sure I was always under surveillance. Day and night. The moment one of his men showed any signs of… interest, they were replaced. Sometimes even female guards," she whispered back just as softly.
"But didn't you ever, you know, touch yourself?"
"If there ever was such an impulse... knowing that a camera was always pointed at me, someone always watching my every move, it kinda killed even the slightest notion of… exploring."
He expected her to become shy about this, but she didn't. In fact, she seemed so far removed from the subject it became all the more clear just how inexperienced she really was. He silently cursed Dumaine for robbing an innocent girl of the chance to grow up normally, with all the tantrums, emotional outbursts and raging hormones that entailed.
"But, come on, they couldn't be watchin' all the time. Surely during showers and… you know…"
Liona shook her head.
"No privacy at all? Not even then?" He was utterly appalled. Such a violation of basic human rights! Now he really understood why she hadn't even flinched when she'd angrily undressed herself in front of him. She hadn't flinched. He'd needed a cold shower... In all those years, she'd not even been allowed to pee without someone looking.
"So, last night, was that the first time you ever had a…" He swallowed hard. He was not used to talking a lot, let alone talking about private matters such as this.
"Yes," she said quietly.
He gave her a wicked grin. "Did you like it?"
She was not shy in admitting to that. Liona looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Yes."
"Good," he whispered against her lips, "So did I."
He was silent for a moment and stared into her eyes. Something… some things… were pressing on his mind. "I'm sorry for what I said when Sarah was here. I didn't mean to be that nasty. It's just… Dom and I are always ribbin' each other and… I wasn't thinkin'."
"It wasn't so much the comment," she admitted softly, "but the way you were treating me so differently from everyone else. And when I spent hours outside…"
String lowered his head in shame. "I did hear you. Even got up to go to you a coupla times."
"Why didn't you?" Liona then scoffed a bit and gave him a wry little smile. "Never mind. I guess I know."
"If you'd stayed out any longer… I would have gotten you back inside, whether you liked it or not."
She reached up to trace a finger along his lower lip. It brought his focus back to her lips and made him want to kiss her again. "You wouldn't have left me to freeze to death?"
"Maybe, but I would have felt really bad about it in the mornin'."
Her eyes went wide and her lower lip dropped. She looked so damn cute with that look of horror on her face, that he chuckled lightly and placed his lips against hers in a kiss he'd meant to be tender, but the way her lips sweetly plied against his quickly ignited his desire.
With a reluctant sigh he pulled back. "You better get some sleep," he suggested softly, "or I might forget our two visitors downstairs and make you cry out so loud it will even scare the eagle away."
At that her eyes held such a look of interest that he really had to work to keep himself from laughing out loud. "You know, that's not a very ladylike expression I see."
"I don't think I've done anything to make you believe I'm a lady!"
He gave her a lopsided grin. "A perfect fit then."
"You think so?" she asked, smiling up at him.
The sleepy smile she gave him remained on her lips for a long time, even when she fell asleep.
String, however, could not bring himself to relax. Not yet. He spent a long time looking at her, watched as her features finally relaxed and she snuggled closer to him when the fire started to die. She was younger than Gabrielle had been when they met and her lack of life experience made her seem even younger still.
So young, so sweet. An innocence he'd met with blistering cold. Yet she had not withered.
He lightly allowed his hand to trace the delicate features of her face and felt like he was gazing at all the beauty that existed in the world, all embodied in this one single female form. It was too late to turn back, because he knew he simply couldn't give her up, just as he couldn't simply stop breathing.
It was the last conscious thought he had before he fell asleep.
\A/
The first pale rays of sunlight woke him up. Liona was still in deep slumber. String carefully rolled away from her and, noticing a small shiver that ran through her, pulled the cover over her shoulders.
Before, he'd not made any attempt at being quiet as he started his days at unusual early hours. In fact, he'd made as much noise as possible as a kind of retaliation for her invading his cabin, his life… his thoughts. Now, he tried to go about his way as quietly as possible, making sure not to disturb her. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that sleeping in was another luxury she'd not known in the past thirteen years.
When he descended the wooden stairs, Tet instantly raised his head. At the slight creaking of the wood, Archangel shifted in the chair near the fireplace, clutching the blanket to tightly to his chest, even in his sleep.
String got his fishing gear and decided to catch a few trout for dinner, hoping that Archangel wouldn't suddenly decide to stay even longer. By the time he got back, Michael was sitting at the bar and Marella came walking down the stairs.
"You didn't wake her, did you?" he asked the woman a bit gruffer than he intended.
She didn't seem ruffled at all. "Don't worry, Mr. Hawke. She's still sleeping like a baby. I was very quiet when I brushed my teeth and she didn't even wake when I flushed the toilet."
He didn't reply when he brushed past her to the kitchen. There he grabbed a newspaper from the stack he kept handy and packed each trout before he put them in the fridge.
"I guess you want me to make some coffee and breakfast?" String shut the door to the fridge, already a few eggs in his hand.
"Since I have a feeling I've already exhausted your patience as our host, there really is no need. Unless you feel like catering to my sudden craving for pancakes."
String glared at the man. "Not really."
He cracked the eggs in a dish for breakfast later. When he turned back, Michael gave him a pleasant smile. "I thought as much."
The pleasant smile vanished. "Hawke, I couldn't help but notice that you both spent the night upstairs. Before I take my leave, I want to advise you to not pursue a relationship with Liona."
String could feel his hackles rise. "You're not in a position to advise me on anything."
"I thought you might say something like that," Archangel said while pinning him down with a stare, "but you have to hear me out-"
"I don't have to do anything!" String bit out.
"You can't offer her a stable and secure relationship, Hawke! And, after thirteen years of imprisonment, I feel she shouldn't be hurled into a relationship at all!"
"That's up to her, not you!"
"It shouldn't have to be up to her! Hawke, do you have any idea what a miracle it is that she came out of her ordeal as sane as this? What she needs now, is to focus on a future with a positive attitude. It will help her accept what has happened and what she has lost. You cannot possibly think you can offer her that."
String ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached but he remained silent.
"I hate to state the obvious, Hawke, but you're a mess. You show signs of PTSD – mild ones, I'll admit – but, according to Marella, you also show a good dose of abandonment trauma. You've closed yourself off to the world, quite literally in fact. While Liona is entering a whole new one.
"For her, life still holds a thousand possibilities. She's emerging from a world that was black and white into one that is vibrating with color. You really want to deny her that?"
"I don't want to deny her anythin'. I won't."
"You will," Archangel stated ominously, "simply because your own issues will get in the way."
String could feel a muscle in his jaw tic dangerously. "If you wanna try and convince her that she shouldn't be with me, go right ahead, but I'm tellin' ya… I won't be the one pullin' the plug. She wants out, I'll accept it, comin' from her. Not from you, or anyone else. I'm done pushin' her away."
"Sir," – Marella quietly stepped in – "I had a conversation with Liona yesterday. She's… aware of his past and I'm fairly certain she has also been confronted with some of his issues already. If she is willing to accept that, perhaps, so should you.
"My advise would be," – Marella turned to gaze directly at String – "to let them figure it out for themselves. I can always offer assistance and guidance should it be needed. I do have a doctorate for that, if you remember, sir."
"I do." Archangel released a troubled sigh as though he wasn't entirely convinced. "I guess that, eh, it isn't really my place to either prohibit or sanction a relationship between you two. We will take our leave then. I'm sure Marella can find us a nice diner with room to park the helicopter." He rose to his feet and Marella handed him his cane.
She then turned to String. "I left a dress for Liona that I believe will fit her well. In case you haven't noticed, she doesn't have a whole lot to wear. It's white though, so I hope you don't mind."
When Marella turned around to leave, String's hand shot out and he lightly took hold of her elbow.
"About that," he began, "I don't know a lot about women's clothes. You think you can set her up with a few outfits, 'till she feels like shopping herself again?"
"Of course, Mr. Hawke."
"Not just flimsy dresses like you like to wear. Warm clothes, suited for outside. Some hikin' gear too."
"Anything else while you're at it?"
Though String knew she was only jesting, there was one more thing on his mind.
"Some privacy. No calls, no missions, no checkin' in unexpected. We just want to be left alone for a bit."
"I will give you a heads up when I arrive with actual clothes for her to wear and I'll make sure to tell Michael not to contact you unless absolutely necessary. Would that be satisfactory to you, Mr. Hawke?"
String couldn't help but smile at her cheeky attitude. "Yeah, that would be very satisfactory. Thanks Marella, I owe you one."
"You owe me more than that!"
"I know. And I mean it… Thanks."
She winked at him, then went after Archangel and he sighed in relief.