'What are you doing?' Dominic Santini's voice startled Stringfellow Hawke into looking away from the picture he was staring at and he hurriedly dropped it into the box he held.

'Dom.' Hawke ignored his friend's glowering countenance and reached back into the locker. He carefully folded a sweater into the box. He felt a guilty pang at the empty space in the locker and closed the door.

'You want to explain what you're doing with Caitlin's things?' Dom said angrily, folding his beefy arms across his wide chest and pinning his young friend with a paternal stare that never failed to remind Hawke of when Dom had been a guardian to himself and his older MIA brother Saint John.

Hawke sighed at Dom's frosty tone. It had been just over a month since Hawke had returned from Maine and told him that their injured friend and co-pilot, Caitlin O'Shaunessy, wasn't coming back; that she was going to return to Texas with her folks to recover from the bullet wound she had gotten saving Hawke's life, and stay there. He didn't think the older man was ever going to forgive him. 'I thought I'd send her things onto Texas, save her a trip.'

Dom grunted. 'She'd come back if you asked her.'

Hawke sighed again and headed for the stairs back down to the hangar. He'd told Dom it had been a mutual decision, an explanation Caitlin thankfully seemed to have backed up in her conversations with the older man. God knew, Hawke thought guiltily, what Dom would say if he knew the truth; that Hawke had told Caitlin to stay away. He could try and defend what he did, say that her mother had pleaded with him to keep her daughter safe – which she had – but the truth was that he was the one who needed to keep Caitlin safe. He couldn't stand the idea that she might die because of him. But he'd hurt her badly; he'd seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice when they'd said goodbye. He wrenched his mind away from the memory with difficulty.

'You missed her.' The words had him freezing in the hangar doorway, his hand resting on the cold metal handle. Hawke missed Caitlin every day but he had a feeling that wasn't what Dom was referring to. He raised a single eyebrow questioningly.

'She called last night.' Dom explained.

Hawke rubbed his chin. 'How is she?' He asked finally.

'She says the doc's finally cleared her for flying.'

Hawke felt the guilt wash over him again. 'That's good news.' He murmured.

'Hmmm. She's still at home with her folks considering her options.' Dom paused. 'She said she was sorry to have missed you.'

'Yeah.' Hawke muttered. Caitlin always managed to call whenever he wasn't around.

Dom bristled. 'Don't you take that tone...'

'I know, Dom.' Hawke cut him off before he could get going. He caught the older man's eyes in a steady blue gaze. 'I miss her too.'

Dom harrumphed but backed off. 'I'll see you tomorrow.' Hawke nodded and headed out to the chopper, the box tucked under his arm.

It was much later that evening that the box drew his attention again, like a flame beckoning a moth. It was sitting on the coffee table where he'd placed it when he'd finally arrived at his cabin. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the side of his chair and put the book he'd been trying to read down on the floor. Tet, his dog, raised his head from his place in front of the fire and looked questioningly at his master.

Hawke rose from the chair and stooped to stroke the mutt's head. He took a moment to stoke the fire, poking it back into a cheerful blaze. Its crackle was the only sound in the cosy cabin. For the first time that he could remember, it was too quiet. He spun and headed for the music stereo. He rifled the albums and selected an old jazz record. He set it onto play before pouring himself a glass of wine at the bar. He sat back down in his chair, took a sip of the wine and resolutely picked up his book. A few minutes later, he lowered it again; he'd read the same page three times, he thought in disgust.

Hawke's blue eyes flickered back to the box. Why the hell hadn't he dropped it off at the post office like he'd meant to? He gulped his wine and reached forward pulling the box toward him. He put his glass down and reached into the carton. The sweater proclaimed Caitlin's allegiance to her sorority, Kappa Lamboa Chi. He laid it to one side and pulled out the picture he'd been staring at when Dom had disturbed him at the locker.

It was an old snapshot taken when Caitlin had first started working at the airfield. She was standing between Dom and himself. All three of them were arm in arm, all three of them smiling. It had been taken before Caitlin had become involved with Airwolf, the technologically advanced helicopter that Hawke flew in return for the FIRM, a secret intelligence agency, finding his MIA brother. His brother was the only family he had left. Oh, he had friends and he always had Dom, who was like a second father to him and had been since his parents had died, but nobody else. The one small link to family he'd thought he'd had, a nephew called Le, had turned out not to be his nephew at all and Le had gone to live with his mother in Seattle. Of course, Hawke had pushed Caitlin away himself. He frowned at a sudden surge of loneliness and took another sip of his wine.

His fingers drifted over the picture. He hadn't counted on missing Caitlin this much, he realised. But she was safe and that was what mattered. She wouldn't die because she'd taken a bullet for him like she had done a month ago, or was in the wrong place at the wrong time because of her involvement with him and Airwolf.

The sound of a chopper teased his hearing. It was the FIRM helicopter. Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III, the deputy director of the FIRM, had become a close friend but he rarely made social calls. Hawke hurriedly stuffed the picture and the sweater back in the box and swiftly hid it in the cabinet under the bar. He was leaning nonchalantly on the mantel, sipping his wine when the spy entered with his dark-haired assistant Marella on his heels. Michael was limping more than usual.

'You okay Michael?' Hawke asked concerned.

'Fine.' The spy said dismissively making for the nearest chair. He didn't exactly slump into it but the lines in his face eased as he stretched his leg out in front of him.

Hawke sent a questioning look at Marella.

'He fell off his horse.' She said.

'Marella!' Michael glared at her and she shrugged unconcerned at his annoyance. She headed for the bar and poured a glass of wine. She took it straight back to her boss and perched on the arm by his side as he took a first sip.

Hawke watched the interplay between them amused.

Michael caught a glimpse of the amusement lighting Hawke's expression and decided that the fall had been worth it. The pilot had been morose since his return from Maine without Caitlin. He cleared his throat. 'I may need you for an Airwolf mission.'

Hawke took the manila folder Marella handed him. 'May?'

'I wanted to put you on standby.' He nodded at Marella.

'This morning at eleven hundred hours we were contacted by General Bening…'

'Bening?' Hawke frowned. 'As in the retired General Arthur Bening?'

'The one and same.' Michael confirmed.

'The man has a reputation of being more cold-blooded than a snake.' Hawke commented.

'A successful snake.' Marella rejoined. 'He's the President's closest adviser on military strategy outside the Pentagon.'

'So what did Bening want?' Hawke asked.

'He wants us to help with a rescue.' Michael stated. 'The President recommended us and specifically, Airwolf.'

Hawke pulled a face and sat down in the chair opposite. 'What's the rescue?'

'The General has a daughter, Tania Bening. Two days ago she went missing in Russia.' Marella explained.

Hawke frowned. 'Russia?'

'The General seemed as bemused as we were about his daughter's vacation spot.' Marella smoothed her skirt. 'She went to some lengths to hide her choice of destination; flew via Paris, London, Hong Kong.'

'She went missing…' Hawke prompted.

'Yes.' Michael stroked his moustache. 'Our agents are still trying to locate her whereabouts hence why you're only on standby.'

'Any ransom demand?' Hawke asked.

'We're not expecting one.' Marella sighed. 'Tania Bening is also a highly regarded CIA code-breaker.'

Hawke leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. 'Why isn't the CIA leading the rescue?'

'They were unaware of Ms Bening's plans to travel to Russia.' Marella explained.

'They think she went rogue?' Hawke's eyebrows shot up.

Michael lifted a hand from his cane and shrugged.

'The CIA's looking for her but it's not a rescue attempt.' Marella said dryly.

'And we're involved because?'

Michael sighed at Hawke's disgusted expression. 'I don't like this anymore than you, Hawke.'

'Michael,' Hawke said wryly lifting his glass in a mock salute, 'that just isn't possible.'

'Believe me if this request had come from anywhere but the President's office, I would have turned it down.' Michael stressed.

'I might.' Hawke snapped.

'It is your decision, Hawke.' Michael said evenly, shooting Marella a look that stopped her instinctive reaction to argue before it got started.

Hawke's blue eyes narrowed. 'You're seriously asking me to take Airwolf into Russia to rescue a woman who may not even want to be rescued and even if she does she works for a rival agency who would love to get their hands on the Lady and who are looking to put a bullet in her?'

Michael nodded.

Hawke stared at his friend for a long moment. He sighed. 'OK.'

Michael leaned on the slim wooden cane he carried and got to his feet. 'Come in tomorrow. We should have more information.'

Hawke watched the spy and his aide leave the cabin. He slumped back in his chair and Tet whined at his feet. He looked down at the dog. 'Yeah.'