Mid-Morning String's Cabin
"Sam," Abby whispered, as a hand stroked her hair. She reached up and touched the fingers that had brushed the hair from her face.
"Abby," String said, his voice a bit louder this time.
Her eyes flew open, and she jumped so quickly her head hit the headboard with a loud thud.
"Are you okay?" String was careful not to move toward her even as he wanted to reach out and take away the panic in her eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Abby's eyes flicked around the room as she struggled to catch her breath. She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes but couldn't stop the few tears that escaped and slowly rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," String said, the tears making him feel guilty for waking her up. He had been hoping to get her on a better sleep schedule and wanted to get her up so she could go to bed at a decent hour that night.
Abby covered her face and shook her head. She wiped at her tears and pushed her hair back. "What time is it?"
"10:00 AM. Why don't you get a shower and I'll make us something to eat?"
Abby nodded; but waited for String to go down the stairs before she got up and headed toward the bathroom. Her hand shook as she reached for the shower faucet. She hadn't dreamed about Sam in months. This one had been so real; she'd been convinced it was him touching her.
String watched as Abby slowly walked down the stairs. She had opted for a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, that was yet again way too big for her. Her hair was dried, but simply pulled back into a ponytail. It allowed him to see the marks on her neck clearer than he had last night. He could feel the anger at a man who would do something like that to a woman. If Abby hadn't already killed him, he'd be tempted to hunt him down himself.
String set an omelet loaded with tomatoes, spinach, onion and feta cheese down in front of her. He added a couple of pieces of toast.
"Thank you," Abby almost whispered.
"Coffee? Orang Juice?"
"I'm fine thank you."
String set a cup of coffee down next to her, adding a spoonful of sugar. He turned around and took another glass down from the cupboard pouring her a generous serving of orange juice. She didn't even look up when he sat it down next to her.
He pulled over a bowl of cut up strawberries, bananas and melon. He walked over and got his omlette and coffee and moved over to sit down next to her. She ate about ½ her food; and drank her coffee, having only a few sips of orange juice.
"Finish your orange juice, we've got a lot to do today," String said, picking up the plates and moving over to the sink. He watched her out of the corner of her eye to see if she'd object; but she never even looked up from the counter. She simply reached for the glass, obediently taking a drink.
Abby walked her glass over to him when it was empty and helped finish the dishes.
"C'mon," String said as he headed toward the door. She followed a few steps behind him. He hoped she would question their plans, but she simply kept following him. String had already moved all the gear into the boat, planning to take her fishing. He figured the sun, fresh air and open space would be good for her.
String tried to hand her a pole, but she just sat there looking at it. String gave it a little shake and she reached for it. He baited his hook and moved the bait box over to her. He cast and watched the line sail through the air, dipping below the water.
After several minutes of her just sitting there holding the pole, he settled his into a holder and reached over easily taking the pole from her grasp. He baited the hook and handed it back to her. "You're catching dinner."
Abby took the pole this time when he held it out. She shifted her position slightly and cast into the water.
"You've done this before."
Abby didn't respond.
"Do you fish on assignments?"
Abby just shrugged her shoulders.
"You don't know if you fish on assignment?" String said, trying to bait her.
Abby didn't respond. String forced himself to remain completely relaxed. He knew she needed time; but he didn't know who this quiet, obedient woman was, and he hated to admit he missed the Abby he'd met in Uruguay.
He kept her out on the water for a couple of hours, content just to ride them around the lake after they'd caught enough fish for dinner that evening. Abby had stayed quiet, but she'd looked around, tilting her head toward the sun a few times. Every time he saw the hand marks around her throat, he had to concentrate on relaxing his muscles and pushing down his anger.
That evening – outside String's cabin
String pulled the stick from the fire pit and pointed it toward Abby. He swore he saw a faint smile as she pulled the perfectly toasted marshmallow from the end of the stick and popped it into her mouth. She had shaken her head when he'd offered her graham crackers and chocolate to make an actual s'more; but seemed to be quite happy to eat the toasted marshmallows he offered her.
She leaned back against a rock and looked up at the sky. There was only a sliver of moon, but the stars spread out against the night sky like millions of little diamonds.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Abby looked at him but said nothing.
"Who's Sam?"
Abby looked away from him and sighed. She was quiet for a long time and he thought she wasn't going to answer the question, but he stayed quiet giving her the opportunity to let him in to her life, even if just a little bit.
"Sam was my fiancé," Abby finally said.
"Where is he now?"
Abby looked over and met his eyes. "He died."
String said nothing. He knew the platitudes that people gave meant nothing, they certainly didn't help."
"We would've been married a year," Abby had shifted to look back at the sky. "It was a freak accident caused by icy roads. I used to be upset that it wasn't at least the hero's death he deserved. Now I know…," Abby paused. "There's no such thing, it's just death," Abby reached up and touched her throat.
String slid over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. There were no words said, just the knowledge that each one of them understood the loses the other had endured.
String laid on the couch looking up at the loft after he'd tucked Abby into his bed that night. He had thought he had a good understanding of who she was when he'd met her in Uruguay. Now she had him second-guessing all the assumptions he'd made. He knew he was a good judge of character; but seeing her now compared to then, he honestly wasn't sure who she would be when this was over.
Or who I'll be he thought, as he forced himself to roll over and close his eyes.
Two Weeks Later
String woke to the smell of coffee. He stretched and rolled to sit up from the couch, his back making him aware that he was getting too old to be sleeping on couches for weeks at a time.
"Black, just the way you like it," Abby said, handing him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks."
Abby smiled at him. "Breakfast will be ready in about 10 minutes, if you want to grab a quick shower."
String watched her walk back to the kitchen, appreciating how much better she was moving around and then headed to the bathroom. They'd developed a nice rhythm over the last couple of weeks. Whichever one of them was up first would make breakfast. They'd fish, take walks in in the woods, he played her music on his cello, and she'd occasionally sing. She had a great voice. They'd read books together, played chess. Most evenings they sat by the fire, not really talking just being together. He didn't ask her anything about what happened the day she killed Tom, and she offered no information. He didn't talk about St. John, and she didn't talk about losing her parents. They never discussed Gabrielle or Sam; but those shared experiences were there, connecting them in ways neither of them had imagined was possible.
Today they headed for the woods after they cleaned up the breakfast dishes. String took her to a blind he had made. He led her inside and held his finger to his lips when she would have asked a question. He straddled a log and she joined him, leaning back against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He gave her a slight squeeze as a deer came into view just a few feet from them. Seconds later it was joined by two fawns.
String and Abby sat quietly as they fed on grass and nearby berries. Neither one moved, but momma would look toward the blind on occasion, picking up their scent. She obviously didn't feel threatened though as they stayed in the area for several minutes before moving away.
"They were so beautiful," Abby whispered, not wanting to break the silence and peace of the place but needing to speak the words.
String reached up and brushed back her hair so he could see her face when he leaned forward. She turned her head to look at him, he stroked her cheek; but when she broke eye contact and looked down at the ground, he removed his hand and leaned back.
"What project should we tackle today?" String asked, standing up and reaching for her hand.
"How about we walk a bit more before we start chores?"
String smiled at her and kept her hand as he led the way out of the blind and deeper into the woods.
String's Cabin – Evening that same day
String watched as Abby pushed food around on her plate. She had been quieter than usual this afternoon. He hadn't pushed and was just giving her space to think through whatever was running around in her head.
String reached over with his fork and speared one of her carrots, popping it into his mouth. Abby looked up and gave a small smile. Maybe his gesture to try and pull her out of her thoughts wasn't quite so subtle.
"Do you ever think about having a family?"
String just looked at her; letting the silence sit between them. Abby watched him for a few seconds and began talking. "Sam and I never talked about having a family. Not at all, I mean, not to say yes, we wanted a family, or no we didn't want a family. You'd think two people about to get married would talk about that; but we never did."
Abby sat quietly for a few minutes. "I'm not sure if that is because we both just assumed you don't have families in this line of work; but both my parents were agents. Although, I've always wondered if I was just an accident and they just tried to make do and not give up the passion they had for their work."
Abby got up and walked away from the table. She wandered aimlessly around the room. String got up and walked a few steps to watch her as she walked over to the fireplace, looking at the picture he had on the mantle of him and St. John.
"I barely remember my parents," Abby said, turning to face him. "I'm not even sure if what I remember is real. They were always undercover. I was 6 before I found out we weren't Russian. I struggle trying to remember if my mom really liked flamenco dancing, or if that was just part of a cover she had once."
"Michael could help you with those memories."
"I never really cared before. The FIRM, my teams, those are the people that have been my family for so long. But then..."
String moved over to her, standing directly in front of her. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "But then one of them tried to kill you."
"He tried to kill me. He was my partner, my friend. I trusted him." Abby's voice was anguished and tears started to fill her eyes.
"I know."
"I killed him."
"I know."
The sobs started. String gently led her to the couch and sat her down, wrapping his arms around her.
As the sobs turned into slight whimpers and sniffles, String began to stroke her hair. "I need to get you into bed. You'll feel better when you've had some sleep."
Abby allowed him to lead her up the stairs; but when he would have left, she tightened her grip on his hand. "Stay with me."
String looked at her eyes pleading with him.
"Please," she begged when he hesitated. "Just hold me. I don't want to be alone."
String nodded and climbed into the bed with her. He reached out his arm and she curled up next to him, fitting her body tightly against his, her head resting on his chest. String held her tight until her breathing became slow and rhythmic, and he knew she was asleep. He turned slightly so he could comfortably look down at her. He knew how she felt. There were days he struggled to remember his parents too. To remember the sound of his mom's voice, or his dad's laughter. At least he had Dom to repeatedly tell him stories about his parents. Abby had just let herself forget what it was like to have a real family and had instead embraced her work colleagues as family.
She looked so young curled up against him. During the day he barely thought about the fact she was ten years younger than he was; they had both experienced so much in their lives.
He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, her hair silky against his skin. He tightened his grip enjoying the way her body felt pressed against him. Her shirt was lifted slightly, and his hand rested on her bare waist. Her skin was soft and smooth under his calloused fingers. String felt his body stir with unexpected desire.
He was glad Abby was asleep and couldn't see his face. He knew the emotions he was starting to feel for her would be evident in his expression. He forced himself to stop thinking about how she felt in his arms. He leaned back a little and looked up at the ceiling, forcing himself to focus on his breathing in an attempt to fall asleep.
The next morning
String opened his eyes and looked toward the empty side of the bed. He pushed himself up and walked to the railing, expecting to see Abby making breakfast. She was no where to be seen.
"Abby."
No response.
"Abby," String called again, quickly heading down the stairs. "Abby!"
String yanked the door open and stopped. She was down on the dock, standing and looking out over the water. The wind was blowing her hair and he was reminded of the first time he'd seen her. She was so different today than she had been that day.
He slowly walked down to the dock and stood next to her.
"Michael's hoping I know who the other mole is in the FIRM. He thinks I know something, but I don't know if I do or not. The truth is, even if I don't know, I could probably figure it out. I'm very good at this job."
String turned so his back was leaning against the dock rail and looked at her.
Her gaze stayed focused on the water. "What if I don't want too?"
Neither changed their position for several minutes until she turned to look at him. "What if I don't want to do this anymore? What if I just want to walk away and have a normal life? Get married, have a family, a house with a white picket fence?"
"You can have whatever you want, Abby."
"Can I? I don't know anything else."
"You'll learn."
"What would you do if there was no Airwolf? If you walked away from The Firm?"
"What I do now, work with Dom, flying for Santini Air."
Abby turned back toward the water; lost in thoughts she was no longer willing to share.
It wasn't long until they both looked up hearing the approaching helicopter. Michael was bringing the doctor to check on Abby today. String reached over and took her hand, leading her to the cabin.
She sat on the couch, and he stood by the bar as Michael, Marella and two men walked in.
"Abby, do you remember Dr. Anderson?"
Abby simply nodded. When Michael avoided introducing the second man, String moved over toward him. When Abby was distracted by Dr. Anderson, String pulled Michael aside. "Who's the other guy, Michael?"
Michael looked at him for a minute before answering. "A psychiatrist who specializes in hypnosis."
"No."
"I need to know who the trader is String. I need her to remember."
"She's not ready, Michael."
"She looks a lot better."
"On the outside. She's still struggling with the ramifications of the attack. She's not ready to be put back into that situation."
Dr. Anderson stood up. "I'm pleased with her progress. Her vitals are good. She's stronger, reports she's eating and sleeping." Hawke nodded confirming that information for the doctor.
"Is she strong enough?"
Dr. Anderson looked at Abby and then back at Michael. "Maybe."
"Strong enough for what?" Abby asked.
"Nothing," String said. "You're not doing it."
"Doing what?"
"Dr. Nagle is a psychiatrist, Abby. He specializes in hypnosis. He can help you remember that last day with Tom to figure out who the other traitor is."
Abby paled and her eyes got big. She shook her head and pulled her legs up to her body in the chair.
Michael moved over to her and knelt down in front of her. "You can do this, Abby. We need this information. We have to know if someone inside of The FIRM is a threat to our agents. People's lives are at stake and you are the only one that can help save them."
"No," String's voice was firm.
"I need your help, Abby. No one else can do this," Michael pleaded with her.
"String?"
"No. She's not ready Michael."
"I want String," Abby whispered.
String moved over and took her hand, pulling her up from the chair. "Go upstairs."
Abby obediently moved up the stairs.
"I'll get the information, Michael. On her time, when she's ready."
"I hope it's before anyone else dies," Michael said.
"You can't sacrifice her mental health for someone else either Michael. She needs more time."