It was the sound of groaning that shifted Saint John from sleep and into consciousness. Something cool was placed over his forehead and he heard the sigh that escaped his lips at the relief it brought; he felt so hot. He vaguely realised it must have been him who was groaning and he forced his eyes open. Michael filled his vision.

'It wakes.' Michael said dryly before retreating to his own cot in the dark room.

Saint John's eyes followed him as his brain sluggishly assessed his own condition; fever, cramping in his gut, pain. His gaze met the spy's. 'It wasn't truth serum they injected me with, was it?'

Michael expression became guarded. 'I don't think it was the only thing, no.'

'Slow acting poison.' Saint John surmised.

'That would be my guess.' Michael acceded.

Saint John was helpless to prevent the shudder that racked his frame. 'How long have I been asleep?'

'A couple of hours.' Michael said.

'When is String due to return from Russia?' Saint John asked pointedly.

Michael sighed. ' Saint John…'

'When?' Saint John insisted.

'We were estimating he'd be back in communications range by twenty-one hundred our time depending on how long the mission took,' Michael said gently, 'and he's likely to test Airwolf's top speed as soon as he hears about you.'

'And then he has to find us, plan a rescue and execute it.' Saint John turned over the timings in his head. 'So we're looking at the early hours of the morning.'

Michael sighed. 'Not necessarily.'

'I'm not going to make it until then.' Saint John pointed out with blunt honesty as he reached up and removed the handkerchief lying over his forehead with his good arm.

'Your brother has a habit of turning up just in the nick of time. Don't count him out just yet.' Michael said gently.

Saint John crumpled the handkerchief in his hand. 'Don't patronise me, Michael.' He swallowed hard against the sudden bitter taste in his mouth; he was going to die. He closed his eyes briefly, his argument with Jo rushing back to him. God, he'd made such a mess of it. He couldn't bare it if that was how it ended between them.

'I think I know why Locke grabbed both of us.' Michael said changing the subject.

'Why?' Saint John said opening his eyes and pretending an interest he didn't feel.

'Two years ago the Company had a disaster with two of its agents in the Middle East.' Michael began sitting back on his bed fully and folding his hands over his stomach. 'Both were apparently taken by the same renegade terrorist group. The Company were told the location for an exchange to be made. En route they were contacted by the terrorists and informed that they had separated the two men for insurance. If all went well with the exchange the second man would be returned to them later.' He sighed. 'The commander decided to go ahead with the mission. The group saw the first agent tied to a post outside a building as arranged. As soon as they approached him; he and two of the rescue party were shot dead before they could get to him. They later found the second agent. They estimated that he was already dead at the time of the attempted rescue.'

'Locke was the commander on that rescue mission.' Saint John said.

Michael nodded. 'You've read his file.'

'I wanted to know who I was working with.' Saint John muttered. 'Damn.'

'Of course, I don't think Locke's intention is just to kill us both.' Michael said.

'Airwolf.' Saint John said.

'Actually, I don't think so.' Michael sighed. 'I think he wants to hurt your brother as much as possible.'

Saint John frowned. 'He's going to give him a choice, isn't he? Between saving you or saving me.'

'Only it won't be a choice.' Michael commented. 'Because he'll choose you.'

'But I'm dying already.' Saint John said. 'If he chooses me, he'll lose both of us.'

'He'll choose you.' Michael said softly. There was no doubt in his mind where Hawke's loyalties would lie if it came down to it.

Saint John closed his eyes. 'God.' He knew his brother and he knew how devastated String would be, not only to find him dead, but in realising he'd made the wrong choice and effectively killed Michael too.

'It will cripple Hawke,' commented Michael, his mind darting back to when Hawke had thought he had lost Caitlin and finding the pilot on the sofa with a loaded gun.

'We have to stop this.' Saint John said opening his eyes.

Michael allowed himself a small smile and breathed a sigh of relief, pleased that he'd refocused Saint John's attention onto survival again. 'If we can get Locke back to normal, we might have a chance to stop this.'

'I hope you're right.' Saint John said.

There was silence between the two men for a long while. Saint John turned over the probabilities and outcomes in his head and grimaced. Despite what he had said to Michael, he didn't see an easy way out of their situation; he didn't see a way out for him at all. Regrets flooded him…about String and staying away for so long…about the missed opportunity to get to know his sister and find the rest of his family…about Jo and their argument.

'Michael.' Saint John cleared his throat.

'Hmmm?'

'If I don't make it….'

'You have to stop thinking…'

'Michael.' It was the calm quiet of Saint John's voice that made Michael stumble to a halt. 'If I don't make it, I need you to deliver some messages.'

Michael pressed his lips together as he slowly nodded. 'What do you want me to say?

'Tell Sarah that I'm sorry I only knew her for a few days but I loved her anyway; her and Chris.' Saint John felt his throat close up on a wave of emotion, tears springing into his eyes. 'And tell Jo that I love her and I'm sorry I was an ass today.'

Michael raised an eyebrow and wondered what had prompted the last remark.

'And String…' The tears he was trying to hold back spilled over and ran down his face. 'Tell my brother that I love him, that I…I'm sorry I wasted so much time.' His gaze met Michael's suddenly and held it. 'You have to look after my brother, Michael. You have to promise me.'

'I promise.' Michael said solemnly.

Saint John nodded relieved and turned his head away, swiped at his face.

'So, not that I disagree with you, but you want to explain to me why you're an ass?' Michael asked curious.

Saint John gave a short humourless laugh which turned into a cough but before he could answer, the lock clicked and the door was thrown open.

Locke strolled in with another couple of guards. He smiled at them both. 'Well, well, well. Look at this.' He gestured at them. 'Two of America's finest and I beat you both.'

Saint John didn't move but his hazel eyes narrowed on his friend.

'Feeling a little smug, are we, Locke?' Michael said calmly as he shuffled to the edge of the bed and surreptitiously took hold of the syringe he had secreted away.

'I have you and Saint John.' Locke waved a hand at the pilot and the spy who hadn't moved.

'Yeah, Jason, you got us.' Saint John waved the white handkerchief he was holding. 'If this is all to prove yourself; you've done it. You've gotten yourself brainwashed and killed a friend.'

'You were never my friend.' Locke snapped. 'You lied to me.'

'You're never going to forgive yourself for this.' Saint John said quietly.

'He's right.' Michael added.

Locke glowered at his predecessor. 'You never thought I was good enough, did you, Michael?'

'Honestly?' Michael met Locke's angry stare head on. 'No, I didn't.' He smiled at the furious flash in the Company man's dark eyes. 'You're a good agent, Locke, but you're not exceptional.'

'I've beaten you.' Locke almost spat the words at Michael.

'Have you?' Michael smiled at him.

'I've destroyed your tracer and you're trapped here.' Locke said. 'As soon as I can make contact with Airwolf…' his eyes slid questioningly to Michael.

'He's on a mission in Russia. They're jamming long range communications.' Michael explained helpfully.

'That's unfortunate.' Locke sighed. He shrugged. 'But when I do make contact, I'll have Hawke.'

Michael raised an eyebrow. 'You won't beat Hawke.'

Locke laughed. 'I'm the one holding the best hand.'

'Hawke could beat you even if you were holding all the cards.' Michael taunted. 'That's why you dislike him so much.'

'He isn't better than me.'

'Oh yes, he is.' Michael said rising to stand and face Locke; they were practically nose to nose.

'I'm going to destroy him.' Locke shot back.

'He's going to beat you.' Michael said again challengingly, bracing himself for Locke's attack. It happened fast; Locke threw himself at Michael grabbing his shoulders and forcing him back to the far wall, slamming him into it. Michael punched Locke under the ribs using the force of the blow to cover the syringe plunging into Locke; the anti-brainwashing serum was delivered. Michael's head snapped back and hit the wall as Locke's fist connected with his jaw.

Locke staggered back breathing heavily and rubbing his ribs gestured at the guards. 'Pick him up.' He scowled at Saint John. 'I'll be back for you later.'

'I'm not going anywhere.' Saint John said dryly.

Locke stormed out. Michael shook off the guards' hands. He reached out to shake Saint John's hand on his way past, transferring the empty syringe to the pilot with careless ease.

'Remember your promise.' Saint John said.

Michael nodded slightly before a rough push from the guard, had him moving reluctantly forward. Locke was slumped on the wall outside but straightened rapidly at the sound of Michael and the guards. Michael wondered if the serum was taking affect as they followed Locke through an empty mansion house and out to a manicured lawn. Michael recognised the type of house; he figured they were somewhere in Orange County by the coast. There was a waiting helicopter on the lawn.

'I guess I'm going on a trip.' Michael said.

Locke didn't say anything.

Michael looked over at Locke and frowned. Locke seemed stunned. When he finally looked at Michael, the spy knew they were in trouble. Locke was back to himself but if he didn't pull it together and quickly, the guards would get suspicious.

'So you're going through with your plan.' Michael said pointedly although he was careful to say it sarcastically and hoped Locke would take the hint. 'I take it this is a solo trip and you'll be staying with Saint John?'

'Yes. You and Saint John are being split up.' Locke started hesitantly but his voice got stronger. He placed his hands on his hips. 'But don't worry; I'll take care of Saint John.' His tone was mocking but the gaze that met Michael's was contrite.

Michael allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up slightly. 'Goodbye, Locke.'

The other man gestured at the guards. 'Get him out of here.' Locke whirled and walked away. He held it together until he got back into the house and he headed straight for a bathroom where he barely made it to the toilet before throwing up, the events of the past couple of days racing through his head including how he had watched Saint John be beaten. He collapsed on the torn linoleum floor and held his head in his hands before raising his face to the heavens.

'What have I done?' He asked brokenly. 'What the hell have I done?'