Thirteenth February. Racino Pass.

Hawke could feel the darkness pulling at him, his eyes drifting shut and he shifted abruptly trying to keep himself awake. The movement jarred his leg and he cried out as the pain hit sharp and swift as the knife that had done the original damage. He took one shuddering breath than another. Where the hell were they? Why hadn't they found him yet? It seemed like he'd been on the mountain injured for so long…for too long.

He shivered. The fire was almost out and he had hardly any kindling left to keep it going. Please, he thought helplessly, find me; I'm here. What if they weren't coming? They were coming, he thought firmly, Dom and Caitlin were coming…they always did. His vision blurred and he shook his head to clear it. What had he been thinking about? That was right; he'd been thinking about the moment he'd left the rest of the group behind and headed out alone with the bad guys, Frank and John – if that had been their real names…

Earlier that day

Hawke ascended to a higher altitude in the chopper and checked his course. Racino Pass was a steep lookout post on the far side of the mountain range. Hawke knew the conditions were treacherous at that altitude even at the best of times. He wondered briefly what the two men were planning once they got to the pass. It seemed like a strange meeting or drop point but then they obviously had some kind of business there. He frowned. His time would be better spent thinking about how he got out of the mess he was in rather than trying to understand what the two guys were up to. Two against one wasn't bad odds with the right opportunity; it was just finding the right opportunity. Sitting in a cockpit with two guns pointed at you wasn't the right opportunity, Hawke thought, and he really needed to get out before they landed. If he landed when they got to their destination, it might very well be that they would then consider him surplus to requirements. A plan formed in his head and he went over it as he flew onwards.

The Pass was coming up directly in front of him and he caught the glint of something metallic on the side of the mountain; another chopper? He frowned. Maybe they were meeting someone else after all. He pushed the thought away. If his plan went well, it wouldn't matter.

John nudged him and pointed at the other chopper on the ground. There was barely enough room for the two choppers to be parked side by side. It was a difficult landing. Hawke frowned and concentrated on manoeuvring into a solid position. He slowly lowered the chopper checking and rechecking his clearance. At the very last moment, he abruptly swerved away from the other chopper over the side of the mountain and as his captors slipped in their seats, Hawke grabbed the satchel from John's grasp and jumped from the chopper.

He hit the ground hard and rolled, grateful for his stunt training as he slipped down the steep rock. He slid to a halt by a cluster of trees. The ground was frozen solid and he lost his footing time and again as he struggled to get to his feet and ran further down the mountain without looking back. He had somehow miraculously kept hold of the satchel in his fall. He came to a breathless halt when his lungs burned and he simply couldn't run anymore. He slumped onto the ground behind a large bush and tried to work out where he was.

He figured he was maybe a couple of miles down the mountain from the Pass. If he was lucky, Frank and John would have been too busy trying to control the helicopter to notice which direction he had fallen in. If he was unlucky then he figured he wouldn't have long before they found him because there was no doubt in his mind that they would come after him. He cursed the last minute instinct that had prompted him to grab the bag. His cold fingers pulled at the straps and he reached into the briefcase. Maybe whatever was in here would provide an explanation for what they were doing.

He pulled out a sheaf of documents. He frowned. It was documentation, fake but very good quality. His eyes widened at the picture on the passport and driver's license. He recognised it. Toby Farland, an entrepreneur and successful businessman had disappeared two weeks before just as he had been about to be arrested for the murder of his wife; he could remember Caitlin handing him the newspaper article to read. Farland was obviously attempting to get a new identity and get out of the country. Frank and John were probably getting paid a ton of money and Farland probably had other muscle helping him with the exchange. Hawke hurriedly stuffed the documents back into the briefcase. He had to keep moving. He was about to start back down the mountain when a sound had him freezing into place.

'I'm sure he fell around here.' An unknown educated voice drifted over the trees towards Hawke.

'He didn't fall.' Frank's harsh voice was a contrast to his new companion. 'He jumped.'

'Maybe he didn't trust you, Frank.' The other voice teased.

Hawke scowled. Damn! Farland must have watched where he'd run to and sent Frank and this other guy after him straight away. He peeked over the bush and his heart dropped. Frank was already almost on top of him. He was going to have to take them on hand to hand. His mind made up; Hawke set the briefcase down, stilled into motionlessness and waited.

Frank was the first one to come around the corner. Hawke jumped out from his hiding place and karate kicked the gun out of Frank's hand. Frank stumbled sideways but his reactions were good and he moved with amazing swiftness to tackle Hawke and send them both to the ground. Hawke grunted as a punch drove the breath from his body. He dislodged Frank and got the upper position, driving his own fist into Frank's face again and again. The other man still grappled with Hawke and somehow got his hands around Hawke's throat. Hawke could feel the blackness descending as he desperately grabbed Frank's head and twisted. The crack of the neck was loud in the silence of the mountains. Hawke stumbled off the body and froze at the sound of applause.

A small blond man stood to the side clapping his hands. He was thin but muscled and the two steps he took towards Hawke put him in mind of a predator. There was a cruel sneer across the lips and the pale brown eyes looking back at Hawke were cold and lifeless. Hawke knew he was in trouble. Frank had been a goon; this guy looked like he'd tortured small animals in his spare time.

There was a snick of metal and Hawke saw the flash of light as the sun hit the switchblade. They circled each other warily.

'It was a good move.' The younger man said conversationally. 'Jumping out of the plane like that might have saved your life.'

Hawke stayed silent; he doubted he had the breath left to make small talk.

'Frank and John explained what happened.' His opponent continued. 'It was a most unfortunate incident.' He raised the blade and examined it, running his finger along the knife edge. 'Their plane crashing near to your fishing expedition like that.' He tutted. 'Like I say, most unfortunate.' He sighed. 'Mr Farland does so abhor violence.'

'I'm guessing you don't.' Hawke said finally.

The man gave a facsimile of a smile. 'Indeed. That's why I remained behind with Frank to clear up his mess.'

'Don't you want your boss' new identity?' Hawke asked trying to stall him.

'We have John.' The smile was crueller. 'All we need to do is eliminate you.'

'Go ahead.' Hawke said and spread his arms wide to give the other man a wide target. 'What are you waiting for?'

The attack was fast; so fast, Hawke almost didn't react in time. He blocked the blow with his right forearm and whacked his elbow into the guy's face. Blood spurted from the nose and Hawke followed it up by grasping the man's head and throwing him over his shoulder. He went to follow up with a kick but the other guy moved quickly, suddenly knifing Hawke in the thigh. He cried out but somehow managed to twist away at the last moment from a second thrust. He grabbed the man's hand; it was wet and sticky with blood; his blood, Hawke realised. His hold almost slipped; once, twice. They were rolling on the ground now, each trying to shove the knife into the other. Hawke finally got a firm grasp and drove the knife home into the other man's heart. He wriggled from under the body and crawled a few feet back to the bush. He greedily gulped in air as he undid his belt and slid it from the loops of his jeans. He fastened it tightly around the upper part of his thigh. It was a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully slow the bleeding…the pain was tremendous but he blanked it out as he tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt. He tied it around the bloody wound and tried not to panic as it brightened with a red stain almost immediately.

He pushed his rising panic aside and tried to think past the pain. He had to get back up the Pass, he thought taking a steadying breath. Dom knew that he'd been headed for Racino Pass; all he had to do was get back to the Pass so they could find him when they came looking. He attempted to stand and fell back to the ground as the pain in his thigh bit deep. He breathed deeply and looked around him for something he could lean on. A fallen branch caught his eye and he managed to crawl over to it. He examined it and decided it was probably sturdy enough. He used a nearby tree for leverage and hopped on his good foot. The makeshift crutch took his weight and he began the slow walk back up the mountain. The terrain was slippery and uneven. He lost count of the times he fell and got back up. He was sweating and tired when he made it to the rocky path that led the way up the mountain.

Rest. He had to rest, Hawke thought tiredly. A sharp wind cut through his leather jacket and he shivered. He examined his leg. The wound was still bleeding. He'd lost a lot of blood. He wasn't sure he could risk walking on it all the way to the Pass; he wasn't sure he would make it to the Pass if he tried. He glanced about him. A nook in the wall of the mountain caught his attention. It was small but it might provide some shelter, some kind of windbreak. He patted the pocket of his jacket and reached inside. He pulled out a book of matches and gave a relieved sigh. He must have put them unthinkingly into his pocket after lighting the campfire the night before. He struggled to the nook, gathering as many twigs and kindling material into the inside of his jacket as he could. He fell rather than lowered himself to the floor by the mountain wall. It took him three attempts before he managed to get a fire lit and he huddled into his jacket by the flames. He stared at the sun. It was after noon. Caitlin would have realised something was wrong when they hadn't called in and gone looking, he thought; she and Dom would get Airwolf and come for him. The thought strengthened his resolve as he settled to wait.