Chapter Six

Enough.

A burgeoning sense of worry encompassed Caitlin O' Shannessy as her familiar gait strode across the vast grassed football pitches at the rear of the Nuys Academy. They truly were impressive, five magnificent pitches..all a luscious shade of green, set side by side in seven sprawling acres of land that the Academy boasted. The last two, marked out for football, were home to top of the high school league team, Van Nuys Academy. It still never failed to send her mind into a spin about the amount of money String paid termly, to keep Le at the most exclusive school in LA.

She'd befriended a few of the mothers, Elena's husband was a wealthy stockbroker, and with no need to work, she spent her days at every beauty salon and gym, LA had to offer. Miranda was a top defence attorney , and her husband Joel was a plastic surgeon for the rich and famous, a world away from Santini Air and her job as a pilot. To say she felt out of place would be an understatement, yet Ethan and Adam were two of Le's best friends, and Elena's and Miranda had been nothing but welcoming towards her, not even questioning her unusual and complicated relationship she had with Le and his uncle. String was his usual evasive self about the subject of school fees, but he'd let it let it slip one night after a particularly tough mission, and the consumption of several glasses of hideously expensive Chardonnay. He wanted the best for his nephew and who was she to stand in the way.

The early evening breeze had a nip to it, and as the chill began to penetrate the sleeves of her blouse, she pulled her padded jacket tightly around her narrow shoulders.

Her thoughts drifted to Hawke and Dom as she edged her way down the aisle of blue plastic seating, muttering her apologies as she forced the myriad of moms, dads and grandparents that currently occupied the seating area, to stand. She finally reached an empty seat and sunk her weary body onto the uncomfortably hard plastic. She couldn't help her anxiety over the mission the guys had accepted. To take off like they did, not even bothering to tidy the hangar before they left, bothered her more than she cared to admit. It was obviously urgent.

Sure, she knew they could take care of themselves, but she knew better than anybody, one day they might not come back. As she'd grown increasingly closer to Hawke and Le Van over the last few weeks, her anxiety had almost tripled, especially since that, most of the time, they'd left her behind to take care of Le.

The dreams disturbed her the most. Vivid and hauntingly real, every time she closed her eyes at night, she had visions of Airwolf under fire from a sky full of MIGS, ploughing headlong into the side of a mountain. Hawke gunned down in front of her eyes on the simplest of missions.

Gone.

Taken from her before she'd had the chance to love him completely .

Before she'd had the chance to tell him how she felt, even though she knew the feelings weren't reciprocated.

Of course she'd had the merest of signs- A look, a roughly spoken word, the slightest of touches to convince her otherwise, but as soon as they'd appeared, they vanished, as he retreated back into the realms of friendship. His safety net. So much so, that she wondered if it had all been a figment of her imagination. Her sister had always told her if you want something bad enough, then you eventually convince yourself it's true. But she was content with what she had, being a part of Strings life as a friend, part of his family and flying Airwolf.

That was enough.

If she pushed, it would only drive the enigmatic pilot further away. Stringfellow Hawke didn't trust easily, and she truly felt privileged to be included so completely in his life.

But she still couldn't reconcile with the fact that this might be it. One day, they might not come back.

'But not today' she told herself, as a small smile surfaced at the sight of Le in an oversized red and yellow striped jersey, jogging towards the half way line. As long as they stuck by him, String would always have something to come back to.

From across the pitch, Le's dark gaze caught Caits, and she waved enthusiastically in the boys direction. The wide smile slipped from his face as he quickly realised Cait was alone, and his eyes snapped back towards the school, expecting Hawke to walk through the gates at any minute. Caits own smile faded and her heart ached for yet another broken promise.

With a quick glance over his shoulder at his coach, Le jogged across to where Cait sat.

"Cait, you made it!" Le exclaimed, as the red headed pilot enveloped him in a hug. Le quickly wriggled free from her arms, and cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to make sure none of his team mates had seen the open display of affection. It just wasn't cool.

"Sure I did" Cait smiled, amused at Le's embarrassment. " I wouldn't miss it"

" Where's Uncle String?" Le asked, his eyes dropping to the floor. "He promised he'd come"

His statement was met with silence, and for once in her life, Cait was truly lost for words.

Suddenly, acutely aware of all the other parents around, Cait squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

" Somethin' came up" she replied, regretfully " Le, I'm sorry"

Le 's expression hardened, a mirror image of his uncles own impassive mask. He shook his head

" Don't be sorry. It's not your fault he broke a promise"

Le bent down and tugged his maroon and yellow soccer socks up to his knees, not wanting Cait to see the tears that pricked at the corner of his eyes.

" You better get back" Cait told him, nodding her head towards his teammates "And how about we get a soda and pizza after, huh?"

Le managed a small smile and nodded.

"It's a deal"

Cait watched as Le jogged back over to his teammates, and a small sigh escaped her lips. Le was getting almost as good as his uncle at hiding his feelings, but she knew him well enough to know he was hurt.

"Hey! Hawke!"

Le glanced round and rolled his eyes as Billy Jackson trotted the few yards that separated them and appeared by his side. Le knew from experience that Billy Jackson rarely had a kind word to say.

"What d'ya want, Billy?" Le asked with a sigh and Billy nodded across the other side of the pitch

"That your mom?"

Le frowned at his teammate

"What? No!" He replied incredulously."She's a friend of my Uncle's"

"Your Aunt?" Billy asked, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Shut up, Billy" Le warned, squaring his shoulders and taking a step closer to his adversary. Billy grinned and backed off, knowing full well Le Van Hawkes proficiency in the martial arts. His gaze travelled back across the pitch, to where the red head wriggled herself into her seat. His grin widened and he nodded in open appreciation.

"She's hot!"

Le's dark eyes narrowed as he levelled a glare on his team mate.

"You're such a jerk" Le muttered as he pushed past him and made his way back over to the striped jerseys that were huddled together in the middle of the pitch.

"Say that again, Chicken Hawke!" Billy yelled at Le's retreating form. Without breaking stride, Le turned and cupped his hands round his lips.

"JERK!"

AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW

In the dank, darkness of the warehouse, Ryan O'Connor slowly crouched down beside the lifeless body of his childhood friend, John Burns.

"I was right there" The agent said with a hoarse whisper. "He gave himself up to protect his men. 'Lotta good that did him" he snorted, his gaze alighting on the other two dead operatives.

String rolled back his shoulders and his roughly spoken words echoed round the warehouse.

"He did what he had to do"

Draping a muscular arm across his knee, O'Connor hung his head and nodded.

"Yeah. I guess he did"

Pushing himself to his feet, O'Connor turned and levelled his gaze on Hawke.

Hawke glanced down at his outstretched hand, and the agent almost winced at the icy blast that met his hazel eyes.

"What?"

"My piece?" O'Connor replied, raising an eyebrow "Or do I still need to convince you that I'm not out to put you in the ground?"

Hawke almost smiled at the rejoinder and reached for O'Connor's gun stowed in the belt of the lilac flight suit. This man intrigued him, and his presence there was more than a coincidence. But what he hadn't quite figured out, was if this man had his own agenda or he really was, as he claimed, on Hawkes side.

"'Til I figure out just what's goin' on here"Hawke gestured with his arm, encompassing the whole room "you give me ANY, just one reason to doubt you, you're as good as dead"

"Wow!" O'Connor replied, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin "You always this intense?"

The agent snatched his gun from Hawkes grasp and meticulously racked the chamber and stowed it safely away in the waistband of his jeans.

O'Connor room a step forward and hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at his fallen comrades. Tears of sadness pricked at the corner of his eyes, as memories of the blistering heat of the jungles and almost freezing to death in the arctic permeated his mind. They had been the elite, Navy Seals, and John Burns had been by his side through it all. He owed the man his life. The mission was simple, and never should've gone down the way it had been planned down to the last intricate detail, Burns and his men would go in first, sterilise the location and he would follow and take possession of the consignment. His gaze hardened as visions of his best friend and two of the best men the CIA and US military had to offer, decorated officers, expert tacticians, walked headlong into a trap. Executed in front of his own eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it, without giving away his own position. Burns had once again saved his life, this time, with the ultimate sacrifice. Hawke showing up when he did had changed things, sow,thing he hadn't planned for, he assumed he'd have more time. The warnings he'd received had proved to be correct. You could never be truly ready for a man like Stringfellow Hawke. The tears that threatened slowly dissipated, and were replaced by a new determination in his honest, green eyes. If nothing else, Hawke could prove to be a valuable asset in bringing his friends murderers to justice. It was clear Hawke didn't trust easily, and he was certainly already suspicious of his presence there. He almost smiled. He'd always thrived on a challenge. Taking a deep breath, O'Connor turned his gaze back to the pilot.

"I don't know 'bout you, but I'm kinda ready to get out of this place" O'Connor mused, wrinkling his nose at the damp, foul smelling air that teased his nostrils. O'Connor brushed past Hawke, using his shoulder as leverage and made his way towards the half open door. Only the monotonous drip, drip, drip from a leak in the ceiling filled the silence that had opened like a the pilot didn't follow, O'Connor hesitated with his palm against the door and swivelled back on his heel, deep, well worn lines creasing his young brow.

"Hawke?"

Hawke's hand slid to his side as he took a tentative step forward, his injured ribs protesting at the extertion. For a split second, it felt as though he'd been hit by a semi. The pain rippled through his side causing every last breath he had to seemingly evaporate from his body. As he fought to catch his breath, he was unable to smother the small groan that emanated from deep at the base of his throat.

"Man, are you hurt?"

Standing up as straight as his bruised ribs would allow, Hawke quickly gathered himself and fixed the agent with a steely glare.

"I'm okay" Hawke bit out, stalking past O'Connor towards the door.

Hawke wasn't quite sure what clued him in first; the shadow that suddenly filled the gap between the floor and the door, the slightest of sounds from the other side, but in a flash Hawke drew his gun from the holster and aimed it squarely at rippled wood of the door. Glancing across at O'Connor, Hawkes blue eyes widened in surprise as he saw the agent had done the same, his hands strong and sure around his weapon, his stance mirroring his own.

"Listen" Hawke murmured, so only the agent could hear " I don't know why you're here, or who sent you, but I don't believe in coincidences"

Their eyes remained focussed on the door.

"Hey Hawke, why don't you really say what's on your mind" O'Connor replied, half jokingly " I know a real good shrink that could help with that paranoia of yours"

"It's what's kept me alive "

"Until now"

Hawke tore his gaze away from the door and scowled at the younger man.

"I know you had my back, back there, but what I don't understand is, why?"

O'Connor rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on his gun.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it means, Hawke. There's no conspiracy here. I'm not after that monster machine of yours.."

Hawkes head whipped round, pinning the young agent with a glacial stare.

O'Connors gaze met his, their stance never waivering, their guns trained on the door.

"Yeah, I know" O' Connor replied with a nod, " but I like to keep my feet firmly on the ground, so your Lady's safe"

Hawke resisted the urge to smile. Despite the cocky, self assured, macho bravado, if he didn't know better, Special Agent Ryan O'Connor had a fear of flying.

"But if you wanna get outta here alive, you're gonna have to trust me, huh?"

Hawke's eyes narrowed

"I take care of myself"

"Hawke, tell me" O'Connor said, taking a step towards the door " What's the first rule they teach you in combat?"

"You don't do anything all by yourself" he muttered, echoing the same words he'd said to his friend Minh, well over a year ago.

"Exactly. And you're in no shape to be playing the hero"

No sooner as he finished his speech, Ryan O' Connor fired his gun, prompting several bullets to spatte against the door on the other side in retaliation.

Hawke and O' Connor whirled around and pressed their backs against the door, guns pulled closely to their chests as they slid to the floor. Hawke glanced over at the agent, his eyes icing over.

"Hold that thought"