Special Agent O'Connor and Hawke crouched side by side on the damp, concrete floor. Hawke's head rested lightly against the door, his eyes closed as he attempted to shift the continuous throb that irritated his left temple. The pain in his injured ribs had diminished to a dull ache, and he ran the events of the last few hours over again in his mind. He had so many questions that remained unanswered. Why did Archangel send O'Connor? What was his true purpose for helping him? Who murdered the Special Ops team, lying only a few feet away? It was a professional job, the men had been executed. In Hawkes mind he knew Cullens men could not have been responsible. The team were the elite, trained in stealth operations and although he'd taken a hit, Hawke hadn't had much of a problem in taking out one of Cullens men. Neither had O'Connor. The nagging doubt and suspicion turned the dull ache into a throb as the realisation slammed into Hawke like an express train. It was a professional hit by the United States Government.
""So, you got a plan?"
Hawke opened his eyes at O'Connors voice, and turned his head slightly to look at the Agent
"Or are we just gonna sit here all day?"
O'Connor raised an eyebrow at Hawkes momentary silence.
"Maybe" Hawke replied, as he lifted his head away from the door.
"Maybe" O'Connor muttered, nodding his head in a stunned disbelief.
"Well, would you care to let me in on your little master plan?" He asked, gesturing vaguely with his gun "Or have I gotta guess?"
Hawke glared at the young agent, but said nothing. Turning his attention back to their current predicament, he swiftly adjusted his feet, and raised himself a few inches until his fingertips could just about reach the door handle.
"Jeez, Hawke. You really oughta try talking to people sometime" O'Connor mused, unable to prevent the teasing smile that played across his face. "You know, I really am quite interesting"
Hawke silently opened the door, a peered through the sliver of an opening into the room beyond.
"I'll bear it in mind"
Hawke turned and looked at his companion
"You ready?"
O'Connors eyes widened as his gaze slid from Hawke to the door.
"We're going through the door? Uh uh" O'Connor replied, shaking his head vigorously. "Not unless you wanna end up looking like Swiss cheese! That-"
O'Connors gaze shifted upwards, and he pointed his gun towards a small skylight in the ceiling "is our way out."
O'Connor looked back to the door, only to catch a glimpse of Hawke's retreating form through the open doorway.
"...Or we could use the door"
Gripping his gun tightly, O' Connor sprinted through the door and ducked instinctively as a bullet riccoched of a shelving unit millimetres above his head prompting the agent to change direction. Another shot rang out in the darkness and he darted around the corner, throwing himself against the nearest wall. Slowly, he peered round, careful not to give away his location.
"Man, if you're gonna do that, at least warn me next time, huh?!"
O'Connor whispered, watching the two men stalking down the aisle intently.
"I did." Came the gruff reply from the opposite wall "You were too slow"
In the cover of darkness, Hawke allowed himself a smile at the Agents flicker of movement, a tense of the shoulders so slight that if he hadn't been watching for it, he would've missed it. His gaze still trained on the two men inching towards them, O'Connor silently bristled at the insult.
"How many?" Hawke asked as O'Connor turned back to face him.
He held up two fingers, indicating that Hawke should take the one on the left, and with a nod of agreement, the two men sprung from their hiding place and Hawke got off a shot before the other man could even respond. Hawke watched as the man slumped to the floor, unmoving. Hawkes gaze snapped to his partner as he hit floor, rolling behind a stack of crates to evade the bullet that zero'd in on its target. The second man, evidently more accomplished than his companion, had found his mark, sending O'Connor barrelling into the cold, concrete wall. In one swift movement O'Connor found his feet, and ignoring the blossoming red stain seeping through the sleeve of his t shirt, he trained his gun, firm and sure, on the advancing enemy. For a brief moment their eyes met, and all the anger and pain for his lost friends bludgeoned it's way to the surface. O'Connor pulled the trigger.
It was over.
A blissful silence filled the warehouse as O'Connor slowly lowered his gun, grimacing slightly at the searing pain in his shoulder that simple movement evoked. He cast a weary glance at Hawke who appeared beside him, replacing his gun in its holster.
"You should get to a hospital" Hawke said matter of factly, finally breaking the silence as he nodded towards the Agents injured shoulder.
O'Connor shook his head
"It's just a flesh wound. I'm fine" he insisted, stowing his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He met Hawke's gaze. " I've had a lot worse"
Hawke almost smiled at his admission, reminding himself that he would probably do the same.
"Let's go home" O' Connor replied, the devastatingly cocky smile returning to his face. He slapped Hawke on the shoulder and stepped over the two lifeless bodies that lay on the floor and made his way to the invitingly open front door.
"You know, we really need to work on your communication skills" O'Connor began, oblivious to the perpetual scowl plastered across Hawkes face. He stopped at turned to face the pilot.
"With a little work, we could make a really good team-"
Hawke never got the chance to respond with the 'No' that teased his lips.
A hot, intense orange glow flashed before their eyes instantly blinding them, as an explosion ripped through the entire frame of the building. Hawke felt his body slam into something very hard, and very solid and groaned in pain as he landed with the full force of his weight on his already injured ribs. Summoning all the energy he still possessed, Hawke lifted his head and became vaguely aware of the blurry outlines of several armed men swarming in like a plague through the open door.
"O'Connor?" He spluttered weakly, running his hands over the gravel and tentatively pushing himself to his knees. As more armed men filtered through the entrance, he was grateful for the irony as the explosion had dislodged the false ceiling above their heads, temporarily concealing them from the army that continued to invade. When he got no reply, he crawled blindly across to a heap of debris on the opposite corner, as he willed his eyes to find some sort of focus.
"Ryan! " he repeated desperately, his own voice sounding as though he was a few hundred feet under water. Throwing off pieces of plaster from the agents prone form beneath the rubble, the intense heat from the fire raging around them and the putrid smell of burning, twisted metal filled his nostrils, spurred him on even faster, all the while, a well trained eye on the SWAT team that encircled the building like vultures after their prey.
A small groan emanated from beneath the last of the debris and grabbing hold of a dusty, muscular arm, Hawke pulled O'Connor free.
"You sure took your time" O'Connor choked, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Steadying himself on Hawkes arm, he pulled himself to his feet.
"We gotta go. Can you walk?" Hawke asked, glancing up towards the vacant exit.
"Hawke- " O'Connor replied, with an angry growl at the pain that encompassed his entire body "We're surrounded. We'll never make it. Give it up man, it's over"
Doubling over as the pain finally took hold, Ryan O' Connor slowly raised his eyes towards the light that filled the doorway. He'd never heard a sound like it before. An eerie, ghostly howl above the rooftops, that had the ensuing SWAT team doubling back towards the exit.
"What the hell is that?!" O'Connor asked as Hawke slung the agents arm over his shoulder. Hawke hesitated and caught O'Connors gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin
"Plan B"
AWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAWAW
Hawke and O'Connor used every breath left in their body to drag themselves towards the door as the fire continued to rage around them, the red hot flames licking at the walls and floor. The ceiling above them creaked ominously.
"You think we can move a little faster?" O'Connor heaved, as the two men finally reached he door. "'Cos I'm about ready to check out of this dump-"
The two men hesitated in the frame of the doorway as the sound of rapid gunfire and panicked cries filled the night air, as though a small army had invaded the deserted warehouse.
O'Connor swayed unsteadily on his feet, and his eyes lacked focus as he grabbed hold of the strong arm that currently prevented him from falling into a heap on the floor.
"Woah, Easy-" Hawke replied, tightening his grip on the Agents arm, and was suddenly perturbed by the feeling of protectiveness that washed over him like a tidal wave. Memories, of his childhood, flashed before his eyes. Of him and St John- No. Of a boy, a young infant, with dark brown hair, a chocolate brown Labrador outside a house with a white picket fence, a red station wagon...
Another blood curdling scream brought Hawke back to reality, and judging by their current predicament, he knew the odds were stacked against them. If he didn't get O'Connor to a hospital soon, he'd have the death of a Federal Agent on his hands.
Slowly, O'Connor raised his head to meets Hawke's icy blue gaze with blurred, unfocused eyes, and offered the pilot a weak, fading smile.
"You got an Army out there, or somethin'? Cos we ain't gettin' outta here without one"
Hawke quickly ducked his head as another explosion rippled through the warehouse, and against his better judgement, he found himself returning the Agents smile.
"Or something"
Hawke and O'Connor half limped, half sprinted out into the freezing night, their heavy, laboured breaths creating plumes of vapour in the air as they ran. Taking cover behind an abandoned pile of stacking crates, Hawke silently thanked God for small mercies- The SWAT team hadn't seen them.
" What's goin' on?" O'Connor shouted, above the hail of stray bullets that embedded themselves in the concrete wall a few millimetres above their heads.
As the two men crouched behind the crates, as low as their bruised and battered bodies would allow, Hawke lifted his head towards the sky, his usually guarded blue eyes filled with desperation and worry.
"C'mon Dom!"