Mike looked at Hawke anxiously. The three of them had been lined up by the helicopter and told to sit down and keep quiet. They had heard the confirmation from the Beta team for radio silence. The knowledge that the attack on the cabin was probably happening right that minute had stilled Hawke into a deadly motionless; his blue eyes an icy calm that had Mike worried.
'You're planning something, aren't you?' Mike whispered.
Hawke didn't reply. His gaze was pinned on the four men holding them; assessing their positions, noting their firearms.
'I know you're planning something.' Mike repeated.
'I have a plan.' Hawke said quietly.
'I knew it.' Mike crowed happily if in a subdued way so not to alert their captors. He glanced at Hawke. 'This won't involve me getting shot, will it? Because your brother's plans always seem to involve me getting shot.'
'I'll shoot you myself if you don't shut up and listen.' Hawke growled.
There was something in his tone that warned Mike the other pilot was serious. 'Got it.' Mike nodded. 'Shutting up.' He noticed Locke hiding a smile.
'Saint John and Michael are in the undergrowth at six o'clock.' Hawke murmured.
Mike and Locke both resisted the urge to look.
'How do you know that?' Locke demanded.
'I heard them.' Hawke stated impatiently. 'I'm thinking if we can spring a surprise attack, we can get them surrounded. There're more of us than them.'
'I am going to get shot.' Mike muttered.
'Three of us are injured.' Locke pointed out.
'I'm fine.' Hawke stated.
Mike regarded the stubborn set to Hawke's mouth; Saint John had the exact same expression at times. He sighed. 'How do you want to do this?'
'I pretend to pass out. Call for help. We'll take the two up here. Leave the two down there for Saint John and Michael.'
'It could work.' Locke said. 'If Saint John and Archangel are really there.'
'They're there.' Hawke said firmly. 'I'm going to give Saint John a signal.' He just hoped his brother remembered it. He stretched his arms, clasping his hand around his watch leaving two fingers pointed outwards.
Michael lowered the binoculars he held. 'He's signalling us.'
'How do you know that?' Saint John said. 'He doesn't even know we're here.'
'Your brother's hearing is legendary.' Michael said dryly. 'He knows we're here and he gave us this signal.' He grasped his own wrist and demonstrated it.
'Be ready in two minutes.' Saint John said. His hazel eyes met Michael's. 'OK. He knows we're here. Be ready for what though?'
'An attack.'
'You can't know that.' Saint John said.
'I know your brother.' Michael responded heatedly.
'And I don't?' Saint John frowned.
'Shall we focus here?' Michael said forcefully stabbing a finger in the direction of their captured friends.
Saint John subsided unhappily.
Hawke suddenly gave a groan and appeared to collapse to one side.
'Hey!' Mike yelled at their captors. 'We need some help here!'
Two of the men closest to Hawke moved towards him.
Michael and Saint John crept forward to come behind the two that were left. Saint John signalled for Michael to take the one on the right and the spy nodded.
The fight was on:
Hawke slammed his fist into the man bent over him as Mike grabbed the guy's gun.
Saint John grabbed his target and punched him out.
Michael slammed his cane across the back of his target's head and the guy fell unconscious on the ground.
Locke threw himself at the second guy and scuffled with him until Mike could shoot him.
Hawke took a couple of punches from his opponent before he managed to knock the guy out. He stood up and staggered dangerously on his feet, his vision blurring and dimming for an instant.
Mike was beside him in an instant. 'Easy.'
Saint John's attention was on his brother and he failed to see his target recover and stand up behind him.
There was a shot.
Saint John looked behind him and the target fell to the ground, the rock he had intended for Saint John's head clutched in his hand. Saint John's eyes went to Michael who held the cane like a gun on the man; the end of it was smoking slightly.
'Thank you.' Saint John said reluctantly.
Michael shrugged and turned in the direction of Hawke. They both hurried over as Locke secured the men.
'Are you OK?' Saint John asked worriedly taking in Hawke's white, tense face.
'I might have a headache.' Hawke conceded. His blue eyes flickered to Saint John and focused on the bruise blooming on his brother's jaw. He frowned. His attention had been a little distracted during the fight but he hadn't seen Saint John's opponent land a blow that would account for the mark. His gaze shifted to Michael's split lip and back to Saint John. He figured it was better not to ask. He gestured impatiently at Mike. 'The phone.'
'Right.' Mike hurried over to the abandoned satellite phone.
Hawke met Michael's eye. 'We need to call…'
'Caitlin.' Michael nodded firmly. 'We know. We worked it out.' He smiled. 'I guess you did too.'
'Yeah.' Hawke was too tired to explain. The faintest sound teased at his hearing and had his sore head tilting upwards.
'What?' Saint John asked wondering whether they were going to face another attack.
'Airwolf.' Hawke stated. As he said the words the helicopter descended into the clearing. They quickly moved away to give the Lady room, crouching in a huddle by their own downed aircraft.
Caitlin was the first out of the helicopter. She raced toward Hawke and he caught her squarely in his arms. They held each other tightly for a brief moment before Hawke eased back. His eyes widened on the blood on her shirt and he swayed.
She saw his reaction and followed his gaze. 'It's not mine.' She assured him and cupped his cheek to get him to focus on her. 'It's not mine.'
His only response was to hug her to him again and bury his face in her hair. They were oblivious to Jo greeting Saint John and Locke with brief hugs before she fussed over Mike with his sprained wrist.
Michael watched it all with an amused detachment letting his own relief seep through his flesh and bones; if Caitlin was safe, so were Marella and Angelina.
Finally, Caitlin eased away from Hawke. She turned with a reassuring smile to Michael. 'Everyone's safe.' She confirmed. 'Marella's got a clean up crew at the cabin with her.'
'I think we're going to need another one here.' Michael noted wryly, his blue eye gleaming with gratitude at her.
Caitlin ran her gaze over her husband's bruised forehead with concern. 'You hit your head.'
'I'm fine.' Hawke replied stubbornly. 'Let's just go home.'
'I think we should get you checked out at a hospital.' Caitlin said her fingers gently tracing over the bump on his head.
'I'm…'
'Caitlin's right.' Saint John said firmly. 'You took a nasty blow.'
Hawke glanced over at Michael as though for support and the spy smiled.
'Don't look at me.' Michael said. 'I agree with them.'
Hawke sighed in defeat. 'Fine.'
'Mike needs medical treatment too.' Jo said. She was standing with her arm around the air force major's waist. Saint John looked away from their evident closeness.
'And Jason.' Mike added. 'He's knocked his ribs again.'
'Then it's settled.' Michael said. 'Caitlin and Jo can take you three to hospital in Airwolf. Saint John and I will wait for the clean up crew.'
Saint John sighed but didn't argue.
Jo gave Saint John a quick hug goodbye before she climbed aboard and Caitlin ushered the three injured men into Airwolf. Michael and Saint John watched as the sleek black helicopter ascended back into the sky.
'I'd better call that crew.' Michael noted calmly. He headed over to the satellite phone.
Saint John watched him for a moment before deciding to check on the men they had tied up on the ground. He redid some of the knots until he was satisfied they were all held securely before he headed back over to the shelter they had erected.
'…I know, I know.' Michael's voice drifted over to him. The spy sounded softer, more human. 'Marella tells me you were very brave, angel.'
He was speaking to his daughter, Saint John realised. He lit the camping stove and set on a pot of coffee.
'I'll be with you shortly. Yes, I love you too.' Michael paused for a moment and pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Marella? Yes.' A smile tugged at his lips. 'Thank you. I'll see you soon. Yes. And Marella?' His expression shifted. 'I love you.' He smiled at the response Saint John couldn't hear before he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He limped back over to the shelter and sat down.
'Coffee?' Saint John offered.
Michael regarded him with suspicion but nodded.
The pilot handed him a tin mug filled with the bitter liquid and Michael took a grateful sip of the hot brew.
'I won't apologise.' Saint John said conversationally.
Michael's eye flickered back to him. 'Neither will I.'
Saint John gave a rueful smile. 'Well, the last time I apologised we ending up punching each other.'
'True.' Michael agreed with reluctant humour. He sighed. 'Let's face it; it was probably an inevitability that it would happen at some point.'
'Yeah.' Saint John took a gulp of coffee. 'I don't like you.'
'I don't like you either.' Michael replied.
'I don't like that you put Hawke in danger with your missions and your politics.' Saint John said.
'I don't like the fact that you hurt him with sixteen years of silence.' Michael retorted.
'I don't like…' Saint John looked into his mug, 'I don't like that you've been here for Hawke and I haven't.'
'I don't like the fact that you could easily make Hawke choose you and I would lose the closest friend I've had in my life.' Michael admitted not looking at the other man.
There was a moment's silence.
'The closest friend, huh?' Saint John said softly.
Michael risked a glance at the pilot and saw him looking back at him evenly. 'It might surprise you to know I don't have many friends.'
Saint John gave a huff of laughter and looked away.
'I don't even know how it happened.' Michael admitted. 'But Hawke's friendship – and Caitlin's – means a great deal to me, and to Marella and to my daughter.'
'I would never make him choose.' Saint John said.
'You wouldn't have to.' Michael pointed out. 'If the situation became untenable, he'd choose you.'
'I don't know about that.' Saint John winced at the evident insecurity in the words.
'I do.' Michael said firmly. 'He loves you. You're his brother and sixteen years of being apart hasn't changed that for him.'
'I hurt him.' Saint John said his chest tightening with the admission.
'Yes, you did.' Michael agreed not prepared to lie about the fact. 'He suffered every time a lead on you came to a dead end; with every failed mission to find you.' He gestured with his mug. 'If he hadn't met Caitlin I don't know what would have happened to him.'
'She's good for him.'
'Dom always thought so.' Michael said quietly.
There was another silence and both men focused on drinking their coffee and absorbing the frank exchange of their conversation.
'We're never going to be best friends.' Saint John said.
'No.' Michael agreed.
'But maybe we should stop being adversaries.' Saint John caught Michael's eye. 'I mean we're going to see each other a lot and we've got to work together on this anniversary surprise so…for String's sake?'
Michael smoothed his moustache and nodded. 'For Hawke.'
They exchanged a look of perfect understanding before looking away.
'How long before the clean up crew get here?' Saint John asked reaching for the coffee pot and refilling both their mugs.
'Another twenty minutes.' Michael said.
Saint John replaced the pot on the stove and gestured at the spy. His hazel eyes settled on him seriously. 'So I hear you're about to face the infamous baby test?'
Michael lowered his mug and looked at the pilot perplexed. 'The what?'
