Saint John grinned at the inane joke Mike Rivers had just made and took another swig of the beer he held. Jo Santini was rolling around with laughter and even Jason Locke had cracked a smile. His hazel eyes swept over the group who had congregated at his apartment after a particularly fraught mission.

Jo was hitting Mike with a cushion. There were a similar age and Saint John couldn't quite figure if they were going to settle into a brother-sister dynamic or whether they would end up with something a little more intimate. He felt a wave of brotherly protection for the small blonde female pilot. His relationship with Jo had settled back into familiar territory. They had helped each other through the first few rough months after his rescue, through the adjustment of working with Rivers and Locke, working with the Company and with Airwolf. Jo was family and he felt more than a twinge of guilt at the thought. He still hadn't told her that String was alive and the longer he left it, the worse he knew it was going to be when she found out but protecting his brother took priority. His eyes slid to Locke.

He gulped down some beer. The African-American agent was essentially a good man, surprisingly ethical given his employment but Saint John knew he couldn't confide in Locke about String. The other man would report it back to the Company. It seemed to him that Locke struggled with the decision he'd made to keep Airwolf's location secret and access to her restricted against the Company's wishes by trying to be an extra good agent in all other respects. He'd done the right thing in regards to Airwolf but it was against every loyalty notion he'd had drilled into him by the Company; it was no wonder he struggled. Locke was also still a little stuck in his ways and stuffy but Rivers was slowly nudging him out of it.

Rivers. Saint John's gaze slid back to the younger man. He and Rivers and formed a fast friendship. The younger man had even moved into the apartment with him although that hadn't quite been by design. The blonde, curly haired airforce major was irrepressible and more importantly, fairly laid back. Not that Rivers couldn't get serious, it was just he preferred to keep things light and Saint John had needed that during the months of wondering whether his lie that his brother was dead would become a reality.

His brother…Saint John sighed. He knew String was back in California; they'd spoken when the couple had arrived back; when String had pointedly remarked that he and Caitlin were taking some time to settle back into the cabin, back into their lives. Saint John had taken the hint to leave them alone. His lips twisted wryly. It was ironic really; he'd spent years not contacting String because he'd wanted to be free of his brother's dependence on him and yet now…now he wanted to be there for his brother, it was pretty obvious String could get along quite fine without him. He hated it.

The phone rang cutting through the conversation that had continued around Saint John.

Jo glanced at him. 'It's kinda late for a call.'

'If this is a mission tell them we're drunk.' Rivers quipped.

Locke rolled his dark eyes.

Saint John reached across the sofa and snagged the receiver. 'Hello.'

'Saint John?' Hawke's voice travelled down the phone.

'Hey.'

'Hey.' Hawke paused at the strange note in his brother's tone. 'Are you alone?'

'Not exactly.'

'Ah.' Hawke cleared his throat and wondered if he'd interrupted an intimate moment or whether the rest of the Airwolf team were there. 'Caitlin's in labour.' He said bluntly.

Saint John's eyes widened and it was only years of undercover training that schooled his features into a blank expression for the others. 'I see.'

'Yeah.' Hawke sighed. Airwolf team then by the lack of response. 'Look, we're at the Fox Ridge Medical Centre if you want to come by.'

'Sure.' Saint John was already mentally calculating how long it would take for him to get there.

'I've got to get back to Caitlin.' Hawke said finally frustrated at his brother's calm even if he understood why it was necessary. 'I'll see you later.'

'You can count on it.'

The words eased Hawke's spirit. 'Bye.'

'Bye.' Saint John put the phone down and turned to look at the expectant and speculative looks on his team's faces. 'Just a friend wanting to catch up next week.' He said hoping he wasn't going to choke on the lie.

'I'd better get going.' Jo murmured. She could tell something was up and she could tell he didn't want to talk about it. She reached up and kissed his cheek. 'Call me tomorrow?' Maybe she could get him to talk then, she thought.

Saint John nodded.

'I'll see you home, Jo.' Locke picked up his coat. 'Gentlemen, as ever, it's been a pleasure.'

'Pleasure.' Mike lifted his beer bottle. He watched the apartment door close behind Jo and Locke before his eyes shifted to Saint John. 'So what was the phone call really about?'

Saint John shot him an exasperated look. 'I have to go out for a while.' He reached for his jacket.

'Look, if you're in some kind of trouble…'

'I'm not.' Saint John paused with his hand on the door handle. 'I just need you to trust me on this.'

'Sure.' Rivers watched him leave and sighed. He knew Saint John was holding something back from them, the question was what? He frowned. He could follow him…no. He shook his head and began to clear up. Saint John would tell him when he was ready and he wasn't risking the friendship he'd developed with him just to satisfy his own curiosity even if it was killing him. He wondered where Saint John had gone to and started speculating with a wild smile on his cherubic features. Maybe Saint John was having a wild affair with a married woman…

Saint John was happily oblivious to the imaginative scenarios Rivers was thinking up for him as he raced to the maternity reception at the clinic and tried hard not to feel conspicuous which was difficult given he was holding a giant stuffed teddy bear. He waited impatiently for the nurse to come free. The phone call from his brother had been a shock but he'd made his way as quickly as he could to the hospital; he was determined to be there for his family. He frowned when the nurse continued to talk on the phone and she sent him an apologetic smile.

'Saint John Hawke?'

Saint John turned around and took in the man standing behind him. Spook, he thought, taking in the bizarre white outfit. The man carried a rosewood cane topped with a silver handle and wore glasses with one side blacked out. Definitely a spook, thought Saint John.

'Yes?' He answered cautiously.

'I'm Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III.' Michael held out his hand. 'It's good to finally meet you.'

Saint John shook the other man's hand. 'I'm not sure I understand.'

'I know your brother.' Michael explained.

Saint John made the connection. 'You're Archangel.'

Michael inclined his head.

'Aren't you supposed to be in the Far East?' Saint John asked confused.

Michael didn't answer the question but gestured instead at the sofas. 'Shall we?'

Saint John glanced back at the nurse.

'Hawke and Cait went into the labour room about an hour and a half ago.' Michael informed him. 'He said he'd come out as soon as anything happened.'

Saint John frowned and followed the spy. He sat down opposite him. 'You were with them?'

Michael nodded and rubbed his moustache. 'Well, given the situation...'

'What situation?' Saint John's frown deepened.

Michael peered at him. 'Hawke didn't tell you?'

'He was in a hurry to get back to Caitlin.' Saint John said defensively.

'Dominic's killer made an attempt on Caitlin's life.' Michael said.

'Dominic's…' Saint John's eyes flashed angrily. 'How?'

Michael explained what had happened; from the identification of Rosalind Bening as Dom's murderer to their realisation that her target wasn't Hawke but Caitlin and the race to the safe house.

Saint John wondered why String hadn't called him. He was torn between anger and…and jealousy, he realised. His brother had trusted this spy to back him up instead of him. He took a deep breath and calmed down. It was early days yet, he reminded himself; String wasn't used to having him around to call on anymore. He should just be grateful his brother had thought to tell him about the imminent birth of the baby.

'So Dom's killer is dead?' He asked Michael.

'Yes.' Michael smoothed his moustache.

Saint John noticed the satisfaction that coated the words and wondered at the lack of humanity; the spy had no obvious qualms about Bening's death. Saint John shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He could be ruthless when he needed to be; he was a trained soldier after all but there was always a part of him that despaired at taking the life of another human being. He figured the spy had never had the same crisis of conscious.

Michael hid a smile. He had a good idea what was going through Saint John's mind and he found it hilarious that Hawke's older brother was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was a bad influence. Perhaps it was time to change the subject. He pointed at the stuffed toy Saint John held. 'Nice bear.'

Saint John coloured but before he could make a reply, a blonde woman arrived next to the sofas and leaned down to whisper a message to Michael.

'If you'll excuse me for a moment.' Michael said getting to his feet.

Saint John nodded. He watched the spy disappear down the corridor and turned back to the bear. 'Yeah. I don't trust him either.'