Hawke didn't stay in the motel room after his conversation with Dom; staying still for long wasn't really in his nature and he figured an early lunch wouldn't hurt – both to satisfy his hunger and his curiosity. He headed for the diner on the opposite side of the road, grabbed a newspaper from the rack by the door and took a booth at the back with a good view of the door and road. A couple of minutes after he'd sat down and started perusing the laminated menu, the car door of the grey sedan opened and two men walked over to the diner. Hawke was careful to ignore them as they entered and took a booth by the window. It allowed them to keep an eye on him without too much trouble.

'What can I get you?' The young waitress snapped her bubble-gum and waited pen poised over the ubiquitous order pad.

Hawke glanced up at her. She was very young still in her teens; waiflike with a shocking streak of pink through what seemed like otherwise reasonably normal pale brown hair. Her eye make-up was a startling clash of pink and green and her lips had been painted purple. Each colour clashed with the sickly yellow uniform she wore; the overall effect was outlandish. He was getting old, he thought, putting the menu back on the table. 'I'll take a burger and fries.' He usually preferred fish to meat but his alter ego, Ray, was the opposite.

'How'd you want your burger?'

'Medium rare.' Hawke said. 'And I'll take a coffee.'

'Sure.' She headed back to the order counter and he heard her yell it in before she returned a couple of moments later. She put a large mug on the table and filled it to the brim with dark coffee which smelled bitter and strong. Hawke took a tentative sip as she walked away; it was very bitter and strong. He would have pushed it aside but took another gulp instead. A man like Ray wouldn't have turned it down. He sighed. It was all coming back to him why he'd wanted out of being an operative.

It might sound exciting but pretending to be someone else was draining. Personal preferences were suppressed in favour of those more appropriate to the cover personality and the tension from knowing one wrong choice, one slip could maybe blow the cover wide open was never absent. He'd had enough after a few years; he couldn't understand how some people could live their whole lives that way. More importantly, he couldn't understand why his brother would choose to live that way for the better part of his life. The last information he'd had about Saint John had indicated his brother was alive and working as a deep undercover agent for an intelligence agency.

He reached for the newspaper and frowned. The paper was filled with the aftermath of the Challenger accident. He'd piloted a space shuttle; knew the risks. It was a damn shame, he thought. He was half-way through reading the main article when his meal was placed in front of him along with cutlery and condiments. He folded the paper and for the next few minutes concentrated on eating. A sly look to the table where the two men who were following him were sat and he could see they were doing the same. He finished the food without really tasting it; an outcome he believed was preferable. He declined dessert, paid for his meal and left. He'd got what he wanted; he knew exactly what the two men following him looked like and he would be able to recognise them in future.

He headed back to the motel. He figured down-on-his-luck Ray wouldn't take a chance on screwing up with Rimmington and would do what the man wanted; wait for him to call. Hawke locked the door and put the chain across before he shrugged off his jacket and lay down on the bed. He turned on the TV, flicked to a channel showing some kind of sport but set the volume to low before he turned on his side and closed his eyes. There was no telling when he'd have another opportunity to rest and the set-up meant anyone looking in would only see a man who'd fallen asleep watching the TV.

Sleep eluded him though. His mind raced from the mission to the wedding to his brother…he sighed and turned on his back. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the flickering images on the TV screen without really seeing them.

Something was bothering him and he couldn't pinpoint what it was…the mission seemed fairly straightforward. Hawke didn't doubt that Rimmington had stolen the weapons; the man had a knack for acquiring and selling the latest in arms. Like Hawke, he was an intelligent strategist and like Hawke, he wasn't a man who trusted easily. Hawke had been truthful with Dom when he'd said he's expected Rimmington would have him followed. The last time, it had taken Hawke six months to get close enough to Rimmington to bring down his operation. He could understand why Michael had asked him to go back under…it would take another agent at least six months to get close to Rimmington and they just didn't have that kind of time to find the weapons. Hawke rubbed a hand over his face. He was taking a gamble; if this job Rimmington wanted him for wasn't the weapons…he sighed. It had to be the weapons. If Rimmington led him to the weapons then he had a chance although he had no idea how he was going to pull it off. But if he could get to the weapons, he had a chance especially with Airwolf backing him up. Dom and Caitlin were always there for him. The thought warmed him.

He'd always had Dom. The older man was a stalwart presence in his life; father figure, mentor, flying partner, friend. Hawke seriously couldn't imagine his life without him and he could no longer imagine his life without Caitlin O'Shaunessy. He couldn't quite believe that they were about to be married. They'd originally settled into a close friendship before a separation after Caitlin had been shot saving his life had made them realise they both wanted something more. Even so, their relationship hadn't been without its ups and downs; Hawke grimaced. Just after their engagement, a stunt accident had raised all his fears of losing her and even knowing there was a rift opening between them because of that, he'd then risked their relationship to help an ex-lover. It was something he would never do again. He was lucky Caitlin loved him enough to understand but he had a new resolve; he might continue to struggle with his fears but he wasn't going to risk losing Caitlin because of them. In two weeks time, they would stand in front of the lake by the cabin they lived in together and marry; she would be his wife and he wouldn't be alone any longer like he had been since his brother had gone MIA…

The thought caught him off guard and he struggled against the wave of emotion that rushed through him. The information that his brother was alive, that he'd escaped from the Vietcong had been a confirmation of what he'd always believed to be true but the realisation that Saint John had been alive and hadn't contacted him had been preying on his mind ever since Michael had handed him the folder. Did his brother blame him for leaving him behind in the jungle? Was the lack of contact, putting Hawke through years of searching, not knowing; was that Saint John's way of punishing him? Hawke sighed. Michael hadn't had much of a chance to follow up on the information about Saint John. Practically as soon as they'd gotten it, the deputy director had been called to Washington to take part in the Committee hearings.

Hawke turned back on his side and closed his eyes. If he was truthful, he was worried about the Senate Oversight Committee and what they were thinking of doing. He wasn't overly fond of the FIRM. He'd only worked there as an operative at Michael's request and had been about to leave when Michael had invited him to join the Airwolf project. Michael had been temporarily reassigned from the project mid-way and the new set-up had favoured Airwolf's warped creator, Moffett. Hawke had disliked the man and ultimately, their antipathy had led to Hawke leaving the programme. It had been Michael who'd pulled him back in; asked him to recover Airwolf when Moffett had stolen her and then offered him the deal; keep and fly Airwolf on missions of national importance and the FIRM would find Saint John.

Of course the deal suited Michael but Hawke was honest enough to acknowledge it suited him too. He loved flying Airwolf and he knew Michael, deep-down under the worldly spy exterior, was an honourable man and would try his best to keep his word. He was also honest enough to admit that he was worried if the FIRM was amalgamated with another agency, the Airwolf project itself would be discontinued; Michael reassigned and his search for his brother stymied. He sighed and punched the pillow into a more comfortable position. He just had to hope, he thought as he finally felt the pull of sleep, that Michael would be able keep the project alive.