'Dom!'

The insistence in Caitlin's voice had Dom jerking upright and his startled eyes glanced around the cockpit of the Jet Ranger. The bustling noise of the helipad on the top of the Red Star headquarters caught his attention and he took a deep breath. He'd been so engaged with the memory of his past; he took another deep breath and left the dream behind as he adjusted to the present. 'We're here?'

'We're here.' Hawke confirmed turning to glance at the older man. 'You fall asleep back there?'

Dom gave a self-conscious chuckle and rubbed his eyes. 'I guess I did.'

Hawke and Caitlin exchanged a worried look but they didn't question the older man as they climbed out of the helicopter and made their way through the Red Star building.

Marella's office was only a couple of floors down. She had taken a large corner of the building with large picture windows that looked out onto the harsh natural landscape around the complex. Sunshine flooded through the room which was separated into three sections; a desk and chairs took up one side whilst a seating area had been placed into the right angle between the windows; a large oval table and chairs took up the other side of the room. The colours had been chosen to compliment the view and natural hues decorated the walls and soft furnishings. It was a comfortable space and the Airwolf team made appreciative, complimentary noises as they settled at the table to enjoy the luncheon Marella had organised for them.

'You know we never get this kind of service when we attend one of your meetings, Michael.' Dom needled the spy happily as he helped himself to a large portion of the salad.

Michael pushed his wire-frame glasses up his nose and stared with his good eye at the pilot. 'If I'd known it put you in such a good humour, I would have started feeding you years ago.' He rejoined.

'Gentlemen.' Marella's dark eyes chided them both.

'This is great, Marella.' Caitlin waved a fork around. 'I love what you've done.'

Marella smiled. 'Thank you.'

'If we've exhausted the topic of food and décor…' Michael smoothed the lapel of his white suit. 'I'd like to move on to the reason why we're all here,' his gaze slid to Hawke, 'even if we are starting late.'

Hawke shrugged away the disapproval.

'Is Karen joining us?' Caitlin asked referring to the woman had become the expert on Airwolf's computer programming and who had discovered the code.

'Not today.' Marella said. 'She submitted her report to me so I can go over her conclusions.'

'So what were they?' Hawke asked.

'Karen believes there is a possibility that Airwolf is demonstrating real intelligence but that it's ambiguous.' Marella said. 'Airwolf is programmed to review and analyse her data and to use that analysis to better optimise her systems for performance. She's also programmed with the self-preservation code to act independently if required to survive.'

'We know all this.' Hawke said impatiently.

'Karen believes that you could argue therefore that Airwolf when she adjusted the self-preservation code to replace Moffett with you, and the rest of the team, she was simply extrapolating her own programming and hence…'

'Not really showing intelligence.' Caitlin concluded.

'Right.' Marella nodded as she forked up some rice. 'The argument being that her analysis of her data simply proved to her that she had a better chance of survival with you all rather than with Moffett. Her self-preservation code then gave her the independence to adjust the code.'

'But?' Dom prompted. 'I'm guessing there is a but isn't there?'

'You're right.' Marella sighed. 'Logically Airwolf should not have been able to adjust the code because she was acting in violation of Moffett's instructions.'

'Which under the original self-preservation code she shouldn't have been able to do?' Caitlin checked.

Marella nodded again. 'Karen thinks Airwolf made an interpretation of the original code to mean if Moffett was flying her she could not act independently. It allowed her to act with the independence she needed to alter the code when she was grounded.'

'Don't the logs say what she did?' Hawke asked.

'Karen says there's nothing conclusive in the logs.' Marella said. 'It is a question of interpretation.'

Michael stroked his moustache. 'So which interpretation do we go with?'

'I kinda like the idea of our Lady being intelligent.' Dom said around a mouthful of food.

'Me too.' Caitlin chimed in. 'Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to look at her just as a machine anymore regardless of what we decide.'

'She has a point.' Dom said chuckling.

'Yeah, she does.' Hawke met Michael's gaze. 'Whether she is or she isn't, isn't the point. She might be and that's what we need to focus on.'

Michael sighed. 'I agree with you, Hawke.'

'You do?' Dom's surprise evident in his raised voice.

'Yes, I do.' Michael pointed a finger at the older pilot. 'Airwolf might be intelligent; that's the situation.' He looked back at Hawke. 'The question is what do we do now.'

Hawke leaned back in his chair and regarded the other man thoughtfully. 'OK, Michael. Spit it out.'

'What?' The spy attempted an innocent look.

'Please.' Hawke shifted again and gestured at him. 'As if you don't have a plan already worked out.'

Marella hid her smile behind a napkin; Caitlin used her water glass.

'I might have some suggestions.' Michael admitted huffily.

'Well don't go keeping us in suspense.' Dom motioned for him to get on with it.

Michael adjusted his tie. 'In the short term I suggest we do nothing.' He felt a moment's satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that crossed Hawke's face. 'If she is intelligent, she seems happy to fly under your command; I don't think we necessarily have anything to worry about.' He paused. 'It's the long term or rather medium term that worries me.'

'You mean the merger with the Company.' Hawke said.

Michael nodded and stabbed a finger on the wooden table. 'There's no guarantee that when it happens in July, I won't be removed as your contact. They may even come after you and try to recover Airwolf.' He frowned. 'If there is a remote possibility that Airwolf is intelligent, we can't risk them getting their hands on her.'

'Go on.' Hawke encouraged, his blue eyes narrowing on the spy.

'I think we need to find someway so they think they're getting Airwolf,' Michael said, 'but we keep control of her.'

'You want to give them a fake.' Hawke concluded.

'Not entirely.' Michael gestured. 'The machine would still look like Airwolf, have her capabilities, it just wouldn't be…Airwolf.'

'It's a good idea, Michael.' Caitlin said. 'But it's not as though you have a dozen copies of her lying around.' Her eyes widened at a sudden thought. 'Do you?'

'No, of course not.' Michael responded.

'But we do have one in production.' Marella pointed out.

'The new ship?' Hawke frowned.

'The basic frame and shell are pretty similar.' Marella said. 'It's the rest of the technology and armaments that are being upgraded.'

'So you'd use the frame and shell you have to just install a copy of Airwolf's current design and technology instead.' Caitlin deduced.

'Exactly.' Michael said.

'Won't they start asking questions when you can't produce a next generation machine?' Hawke asked.

'We'd claim this frame and shell had design faults and re-requisition the materials; continue the build of the new machine. We're actually very ahead of our schedule and a set-back like the one I've described wouldn't be unexpected.' Marella explained. 'We can order existing Airwolf parts on the basis that we're stockpiling spares for the original…'

'But in actuality you'd be using them to…to build another one?' Dom shook his head. 'Incredible.'

'So there'd be three machines.' Hawke said. 'One in the hands of the Company; your new, improved version which ends up as Company property eventually…'

'And you keep the original.' Michael said. 'And don't tell me the thought hadn't already crossed your mind.'

Hawke ignored the sudden heat in his cheeks. 'But you'd want access to her?'

'For studying, if it turns out that she is intelligent.' Michael conceded.

'I don't think it's such a good idea to have all…all of these choppers around.' Dom said. 'One Airwolf is dangerous enough but three?' He shook his head. 'It doesn't seem right.'

'I kinda agree with Dom.' Caitlin said sitting back in her chair and folding her arms. 'I don't like the idea of handing her over to the Company but I'm not sure giving them a substitute is any better.'

'I'm not thrilled with the idea of having so many out there either.' Michael admitted.

'We could pretend to blow her up.' Hawke suggested.

'It might work.' Michael conceded. His fingers tapped a restless tune on the wood whilst he turned the idea over in his head. 'We could blow up the Lair; place some scorched spare parts in there. They'd never know the difference.'

'Lovely.' Dom commented. 'And what's from stopping them arresting us for destroying government property, huh?'

'And if you use Airwolf after the explosion, they're going to quickly realise what happened was a scam.' Marella pointed out.

'So that brings us back to the idea of the substitute.' Michael said.

They were all silent.

'I guess nobody's thrilled with the idea.' Michael said eventually.

Hawke shrugged. 'It's better than turning Airwolf over to the Company if she is intelligent.'

'The words devil and deep blue sea spring to mind.' Dom said shaking his head.

'Are you sure you can build another one without anyone knowing?' Hawke checked.

Michael and Marella nodded.

Hawke sighed. 'How quickly?'

'A few months.' Marella said. 'It'll be tight.'

'Then I guess we'd better leave you to get started.'

'You need to find another hiding place either for the Company to find the substitute or to hide the original Airwolf.' Michael said as the Airwolf team got to their feet. He reached for his crutches; his knee was still recovering after surgery.

Hawke nodded. 'We'll start looking.' He gestured at the crutches. 'How's it going?'

'Slowly.' Michael said with a smile to soften the complaint. 'I'll be in touch.'

Hawke slid his hand into Caitlin's as they made back to their chopper.

'I still don't think this is a good idea.' Dom said as Hawke shut the cockpit door and reached for the headset.

'Yeah, Dom,' Hawke said wryly, 'but then you never think any idea is a good idea.'

'I don't think this is a good idea.' Dom said keeping his voice low as he handed the binoculars to Alan.

'You never think any of my ideas are good ideas.' Alan replied in a stage whisper. The two men were lying on their stomachs on the grassy embankment that overlooked the Florida villa they were checking out.

'That's because they usually end up with one of us being shot at,' Dom returned, 'and it's usually me.'

'It is not usually you.' Alan denied fiercely. 'I've been shot at plenty of times too.'

'Huh.' Dom said. 'At least you're not denying we get shot at a lot.'

Alan's lips twitched upwards for a moment before movement in the villa caught his attention. 'It's him.'

'Great.' Dom said. 'It's him. Can we go home now?'

Alan nudged him and started to scramble to his feet. 'Come on. He's leaving.'

They raced down to the rental car they'd left by the roadside and as Sallis' car passed them, they gunned the engine and started to follow.

'You're going to lose him.' Alan warned.

'If I get any closer, he's going to make us.' Dom said. 'And who's driving this heap of junk anyway? You or me?'

'You insisted on driving.' Alan pointed out. 'He's going left.'

'I see him.'

Dom made the turning and frowned. Sallis was heading into the outskirts of Miami. They followed him as he traversed the back streets of the city until he pulled up in front of an Italian restaurant. Dom stopped the car further up the road as they watched Sallis enter the small building.

'You have to be kidding me.' Dom said. 'An Italian restaurant?'

'You know the US Mafia, Dom. They all like to pretend they have ties back to the old country.'

'Old country. I'll give them old country.' Dom scowled. His eyes widened as Alan opened the car door. 'Where are you going?'

'I'm just going to take a look.'

'No!' Dom grabbed Alan's jacket. 'You'll be spotted. Sallis might know what you look like.'

'Fine.' Alan slammed the door shut. 'You go.'

'Me?'

'Well, you're the one who pointed out that I shouldn't.'

Dom shook his fist at his friend before caving under Alan's beseeching look. 'You are so going to owe me.' He got out and headed for the restaurant. He ambled up to the menu on the outside and started pretending to peruse it whilst peeking inside the window. He recognised Sallis straight away with the jet black hair slicked back, pale skin and the thin pencil moustache. The hit man was sat at a table with three other men; Dom figured them all for henchmen. There was an air of informality about their gestures and animated conversation that he decided wouldn't be there if one of them was actually the boss.

'Can I help you?'

Dom started at the deep baritone beside him and he turned to look at the man nervously. His eyes travelled over the tall, muscular figure who was bizarrely dressed in a waiter's outfit that did nothing to disguise the sheer size of him. Dom swallowed hard and gestured at the menu. 'I was just seeing whether the menu looked interesting.'

'We're closed.' The giant folded his arms over his chest. 'Private party.'

'I see.' Dom gave him a wide smile. 'Maybe another time then.' He took a hasty step back from the menu and walked swiftly back to the car.

'Well?' demanded Alan as soon as Dom got in.

Dom answered by starting the engine.

'Hey, what are doing?' Alan asked.

'I'm moving the car before that goon watching us gets suspicious.' Dom explained pulling out into the traffic. 'We'll head round the corner and watch Sallis' car from there.'

Alan subsided. 'So?'

'So, Sallis is having lunch with some of his buddies.' Dom said. 'That's it.'

'No meeting with the big boss?' Alan asked. 'No new assignment?'

'Didn't look like it to me.'

'Damn.' Alan scowled. 'If we can catch him planning another hit…'

'It's a big if, Al.' Dom said. 'And don't forget that we'll have to make sure we inform the authorities the minute we know someone is on his list.'

'I know.' Alan sighed. 'I just…I just thought it would be easier than this.'

Dom looked over at Al and seeing the despair in the other man's expression, swallowed the reply he'd been about to make about hoping Al was ready to give up. He sighed. Putting away his father's killer had become an obsession with Al and Dom realised with a sinking heart that Alan wasn't going to find peace with his father's death unless Sallis was put away.

'We'll find a way to get him, Al.' Dom said pulling in at the corner where they could continue to observe the restaurant from a neighbouring street. He switched the engine off and turned to his friend. 'It might just take us a little bit of time. That's all.'

Alan smiled and patted Dom's arm. 'You're a good friend, Dom.'

'Are you sure you don't want to join us for dinner?' Hawke asked as he pulled on his battered leather flying jacket.

'Nah!' Dom waved at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. 'I've got this to deal with.'

'OK. Well, if you change your mind…'

'I'll give you a shout.' Dom ended. 'Go. Cait's waiting for you in the chopper.'

Hawke nodded and clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder. 'I'll lock up on my way out.'

'Thanks, kid.' Dom gave him a brief hug before shoving him at the door. 'Now get going will ya?'

'Night, Dom.'

'Night.' Dom called absently as he sat down at the desk. He waited until he heard the sound of the outer door closing before he pulled the file from the upper drawer and opened up the contents.

Jumbled up memories spilled over the over-crowded desk; transcripts, evidence, witness reports and…photos. His fingers were trembling as he picked the photo he'd taken in the Hawke's backyard. A twelve year old Hawke smiled back at him; his arm thrown over his brother's shoulder in a way that had defined the easy camaraderie between the brothers at that time. Dom pushed the feeling of guilt away. He knew Hawke was worried but he was damned if he was going to get the boy mixed up in it all.

'Ah, Al.' His finger traced his friend's face and he wondered briefly whether it would have made any difference if he'd refused to help him; if he'd tried harder to talk Alan out of the pursuit of his father's killer. Another photo caught his attention and he set the one he held aside to pick it up.

Elijah Hawke looked back at him. Dom had met Elijah and Alan's English mother, Katherine, at Alan's wedding. It had seemed to him that Elijah and Katherine had been so in love with each other, they excluded those around them including their own child. Alan had never gotten along with his father. He'd followed after him into the military but Alan had stayed there, transferring into Army Intelligence when the war was over and taking a desk job in Los Angeles as a permanent posting to provide stability for his small family. His father, a State judge, had seemingly never understood his son's choice of career. Katherine's death in a tragic car accident soon after Alan had married Jane had seemed to widen the space between them. It had only been the birth of the boys that had given any hope; if Elijah hadn't understood his son, he seemed determined to understand his grandchildren and Hawke had been his favourite.

Dom sighed and picked up the old police report. He could still remember the night Elijah had died like it had just happened. He'd been with the Hawke's having dinner; a happy chaos of family banter and exchanges. The knock at the door had come just as Jane was serving dessert. Alan had gone to answer the door; he'd come back in ashen with a sheepish police detective following in his wake. Even in his grief he'd been careful though to break the news gently to his sons. For Hawke it had been the first loss of his young life; he'd broken away from the table and ran out to the back porch. It had been Saint John who'd gone to him whilst Jane had hugged her husband and brought coffee for the policemen.

Elijah had been gunned down outside the courthouse.

It looked like a professional hit.

They may never get the killer.

Dom had watched the words sink in and knew his friend wasn't going to leave it at that. Guilt at his relationship with his father; anger at the chance for reconciliation being ripped away; a last desperate attempt to prove something to the old man…Dom could guess at Al's motives.

He placed Elijah's photo to one side. The last photo he picked up had him scowling.

Sallis. Edward Gordon Sallis. The hit man of the Cordelli family and undoubtedly Elijah's killer. Alan had been thorough in his search for his father's killer. The Cordelli's had been the police's main suspects; Angelo Cordelli, the youngest son, had been indicted for murder and Elijah was presiding as the judge in the trial. The Cordelli's had tried to buy him and when that had failed, threatened his life. Elijah had ignored the warnings. Alan had managed to place Sallis at the scene of his father's murder; had shown the hit was similar to the MO used by Sallis; circumstantial but enough for the police to arrest Sallis in the hopes of getting a confession.

Dom had gone with Alan to the police station where they had been allowed to watch the interrogation from an observation room; Sallis had initially refused to budge from his story of having a drink with a friend at the time of the murder. But there had been a cockiness and a pride in his work that the police had played on and eventually he'd began to talk about a hypothetical situation; how he might have killed a State judge. It matched every part of Elijah's murder but at the end, Sallis had sat back in his wooden chair and smirked as he repeated that his story was only hypothetical. A lawyer had arrived; a hand-written sworn statement from the friend in hand; Sallis had walked. The evidence was too circumstantial; the hypothetical 'confession' too legally fragile. Sallis had disappeared and for a few months, Dom had hoped that Alan had let it go finally. He should have known better. The trip he and Alan had taken to Florida to hunt down Sallis had been a catalyst for the events that led to the final tragedy…

A noise in the hangar caught his attention. He frowned and stared into the dark space.

'String? Is that you?'

Dom hurriedly pushed the file back into the drawer and got to his feet. It would be just like Hawke to have come back. Dom took a step into the darkened hangar and reached for the light…

The blow stunned him, sent him reeling back into the office. He crashed into the desk and the paperwork went flying across the floor; a lamp smashed. He tried to regain his balance; dislodged the pictures on the wall; tried to defend himself as his attacker hit him again and again until he blessedly passed out…