The cave was empty. All that remained was dust and rock. Stringfellow Hawke stared out at the empty space and leaned forward over the controls of the original Airwolf helicopter. It was strange to see the space looking so devoid of equipment. His blue eyes glanced off the far side where seven days before a steel platform had sat with an array of consoles; communication and security equipment vital to running operations from ostensibly the middle of nowhere. It was all gone. He breathed in deeply and got out, leaving the door open.
He walked around trying to find any evidence that the Lair had once been home to Airwolf; anything. He found nothing. The Airwolf team had moved out and the clean up team had moved in. They had been good, Hawke mused as he crouched and ran a hand through the trackless soil. They had left no sign of any kind; not a screw, scrap of paper or even a tell-tale footprint. The Lair had returned to being simply an unusual cave in the Valley of the Gods. Hawke remembered when it had last been just a cave; remembered searching it out with his late mentor Dominic Santini and being pleased because he had known that it would be the perfect place to hide the world's most technologically advanced and, at the time, only mach capable helicopter while he forced the FIRM, the intelligence agency that had built her to search for his missing brother. The wave of nostalgia caught him off guard. So much had happened since that moment. He rose and looked back at the helicopter that was standing centre stage.
Airwolf.
The original. She was as beautiful as ever. The years hadn't diminished her sleek lines with the dark, gleaming black body armour and white underbelly or the way the sunlight cascading down the funnel glinted off her rotors and cast shadows on the walls. Time hadn't eroded the predatory feel of her or the way she called to him; one creature of the air to another. Hawke walked back to her and laid a hand on her nose. The hiss of hydraulics brought a reluctant smile to his face. He headed back to his seat but leaned back, folding his arms as he continued to look out at the Lair, not quite ready to leave.
He couldn't believe so much time had passed, he considered thoughtfully. His initial mission to retrieve Airwolf from Libya, after she had been stolen by her twisted creator Moffett, seemed like a distant memory yet the events spilled into his mind as sharply clear as though they had taken place only the day before. He'd brought Airwolf home, but he'd brought her to the Lair. The only person he didn't think he'd surprised at all with the move was Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III. The former deputy director of the FIRM had actually seemed understanding of Hawke's decision; pleased even. Michael had suggested another deal; his protection or as much as he could give at least, a continuation of the search for Hawke's brother and in return, Hawke would fly Airwolf missions for Michael.
Dom had not been pleased. Apoplectic was a better description, Hawke thought back fondly. The older man with his gruff demeanour hadn't trusted Michael at all when they had first started; had argued against performing missions and putting themselves in danger, flying a temperamental machine and potentially getting killed for the trouble. But Dom had come round. He'd loved flying Airwolf who he considered was his Lady. Hawke's blue eyes blurred a little. His grief at losing Dom in a helicopter explosion caused by a bomb the year before was still raw, still apt to creep up on him and catch him unawares. He rubbed his eyes and his fingers came back wet with the tears he'd been unable to prevent. He sighed.
Those first few months of flying Airwolf had been exhilarating and frustrating in equal measure. The excitement of the missions offset against his continued fruitless search for Saint John. They had come to a sudden halt after an attempt was made by the government to recover her and by mutual agreement Airwolf remained dormant in the Lair for months. Until an unexpected phone call had sent Hawke to Texas. Hawke shifted in his seat. He'd flown Airwolf to Texas and straight to Caitlin O'Shaunessy.
His lips tugged upward as he thought of his wife. He could remember exactly how she looked in the Pope County jail cell; her red hair had been short back then, the freckles that liberally covered her delicate features evident even in the dim lighting and her blue-green eyes had been as honest and open as she was. He had fallen immensely, hugely, impossibly in like, Hawke mused. The falling in love had come later, much later, after Caitlin had become the third member of the small Airwolf crew and after they'd saved each other's lives more times than he liked to remember. He wasn't sure of the exact moment that it had happened, only that it had. He'd tried to run from it, scared he would lose her like so many others in his life but in the end he hadn't let his fear rule him and they had celebrated their first year of marriage only a couple of months before. He couldn't imagine his life without her or their first child, a son they had named after Dominic and had nicknamed Nicky. He had been christened only a week before.
A smile spread slowly across his face; he and Cait had begun trying for their second child. The memory of a dream seeped back to him; Dom telling him he would have a daughter. He hoped it would come true like his dream of Dom telling him he was having a son had come true. His smile faded. That last dream had been more of a goodbye. God but he missed him. 'I'll always be backing you, kid.' Dom's words came back to him and he took a shaky breath. He still held onto those words like a talisman.
He shook himself a little. He might have lost Dom but he had regained his brother. Saint John had been found the year before, alive and well, after spending his life working undercover. That he hadn't contacted Hawke for all those years despite being alive and well was still a source of tension between the brothers but they were getting past it, Hawke thought determinedly. He knew Saint John regretted staying away so long and they couldn't turn back time after all. Nicky was helping to rebuild the bonds between them and so was the search for their parents and two more siblings; a brother and a sister.
Hawke sighed and shifted his position a little, staring sightlessly out at the Lair. He had never thought once he had found Saint John that he would ever need to search for family again but an unexpected encounter with a vengeful Japanese pilot from the Second World War had prompted the brothers to look closer at the boating accident that had allegedly killed their parents.
They had worked out that the accident had been a ruse for their parents to enter witness protection following their father's success at bringing Angelo Cordelli, the killer of his father, to justice. The FBI had lied and told Alan and Jane Hawke that Hawke and Saint John had perished when they had been unexpectedly swept overboard. They knew from the FBI file that their parents had ultimately skipped the witness protection following another attempt on their lives, taking with them a baby daughter. It had taken them forever to find that much out and Hawke wondered whether they really would ever track down the rest of their family. He was slowly coming to the realisation that he no longer needed to find them; he had his own family in Caitlin and Nicky and they came first.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. They did have a slim lead; a name for their sister; Sarah Hardy. Michael was tracking her down. Hawke frowned. The name had been supplied by Angelica Horn, the daughter of his one-time nemesis John Bradford Horn. Angelica had given Hawke the information practically with her dying breath. Her biological father had apparently been a business man with Mafia connections; he had introduced her to the Cordelli family and to another Mafia man called Matt Sterling. They believed Sterling had been behind two attempts to grab the original Airwolf helicopter but they had no proof. Angelica was dead following an ambush organised by a deputy director of the Company, Marshall Evan, who they believed was working on behalf of Sterling. Evan had disappeared along with the video of her evidence. His betrayal had major ramifications for the Company's control of Airwolf.
The Company had run two Airwolf teams; one under the purview of an agent called Jason Locke and the other under the purview of Michael. Locke had taken control of the original Airwolf file. Saint John had assumed command of Airwolf while Hawke and Caitlin had been in hiding. An air force major called Mike Rivers and Dom's niece Jo Santini had made up the rest of the crew. The second project run by Michael was focused on building the next generation of the Airwolf craft. Hawke and Caitlin worked for Michael testing the new helicopter which benefited from having Airwolf's artificial intelligence. The intelligence had developed in the old ship, been transferred to the new ship but had found a way of transferring between them both. Whichever ship Hawke flew, she flew with him and as time went by he was thinking more and more of the intelligence as Airwolf regardless of the ship he flew. The Company had never known about the intelligence and Evan's betrayal had endangered both projects.
Luckily Michael had been working on another plan which had happily come to fruition; all aspects of both Airwolf projects were ordered by the President to be turned over by the Company to the Department of Defence. A new division was being created under its auspice to house both Airwolf projects. An ex-NSA agent called Robert Delaney would liaise with the President himself over missions and Michael would run day-to-day operations from Red Star. The new set-up had caused some major decisions to be made by the various team members; while Mike Rivers had happily transferred to Michael's project, Locke was staying with the Company ostensibly to weed out the corruption that had led to Evan's betrayal; Saint John and Jo had begun a relationship and opted out, deciding instead to focus on Santini Air, Dom's old air service business.
All things considered, Hawke was pleased with how things had turned out. He truly didn't mind Locke's absence; he and Locke had barely tolerated each other at best and, if he was honest, he was relieved that Saint John had decided not to continue with Airwolf. He loved his brother but working together day in, day out might have ruined the tenuous bond they had managed to rebuild. Hawke enjoyed working with Mike, not that he was letting him know how much. The other man was a good pilot, learned quickly and although seemingly laid back was a perfectionist when it came to his flying; Hawke appreciated that and Mike's irreverent humour especially as he could see it irked Michael occasionally in the same way Dom's humour always had.
Hawke's friendship with Michael still surprised him in many ways but Hawke appreciated it and relied on it more than he would ever admit. Michael, and his fiancée Marella, had been there for Caitlin and himself through some tough times. The two couples were close; Caitlin was spending the day shopping with Marella along with Michael's eleven year old daughter, Angelina. Caitlin had taken Nicky with her so it had left Hawke at a loose end. He had wandered into Red Star, the home of the Airwolf project, and found a chagrined Michael seemingly equally at a loose end and bizarrely out of his usual all-white uniform. It had been Michael's suggestion that Hawke take out the original Airwolf; she had been put through a battery of maintenance and upgrade sessions and needed testing. Hawke had a sneaking suspicion Michael knew Hawke had needed to fly something.
Airwolf had been as keen as her pilot to get airborne and within a split second he had felt the invisible click between them like always. He had sent her flying across the California landscape and found himself over the Valley of the Gods with some bemusement. Maybe it wasn't too surprising he'd found his way to the Lair, Hawke mused. There had been a lot of changes in a short space of time; maybe he'd instinctively needed to come back to something familiar. Maybe they both had, he thought looking around the cockpit. His eyes narrowed on his watch. He probably should head back before Michael got cranky…
The incoming communication alarm sounded.
Hawke allowed a rueful smile; it looked like he was too late. He closed the cockpit door and hit the receive button, reaching for the heavy helmet even as Michael appeared on the video screen.
'Hawke, where the hell are you?' Michael snapped. His one good eye seemed to burn with angry intensity down the transmission, the other was covered by its habitual black eye-patch and both guarded behind his wire-frame glasses.
Hawke bristled at the tone. 'I'm on my way, Michael.'
'Good,' Michael leaned forward, 'because I have a lead on your sister.'
Hawke froze in the act of putting the helmet on before he continued hurriedly. 'I'll be there shortly.'
Michael sat back, the picture of smug satisfaction. 'Try not to break any records; we've only just realigned her turbos.'
Hawke's only answer was a scowl before he disconnected the call.