CHAPTER 9

Inside it was dark, only a few dim lights guiding through the narrow paths of crates and storage containers, and a faint dripping noise could be heard in the distance, but he ignored all those, straining his ears to hear the quiet conversation.

"Where is it?" one of them asked.

"Where is what?"

"You know exactly what I mean," the Russian snapped, "now stop playing dumb because I know you are far from it."

"But you aren't. If you had any sense you would know that I'd never tell you."

"You will tell me anything I want to know by the time I'm done with you," the third sneered advancing on her. Grabbing her by the hair and snatching it back, he looked down at her with brutally cold eyes, death reigning in them. "You hear me? Anything."

"Let the girl go," Hawke demanded, gun drawn.

"Or what?"

"Or you'll be dead faster than you can think about reaching for you gun."

Hawke, after all these years, Lexa thought, surprised to see it was him who had come to rescue her, still loyal to a fault, doing things for the greater good instead of the way he personally felt, pushing aside all the hatred she knew he had for her, because it was the right thing to do, what his country needed him to do… Too bad loyalty to a fault was still a fault.

"Behind you," she warned, knowingly too late.

"I believe it is you who is dead," a fourth, this one a woman, said. " Now drop your weapon, Mr. Hawke."

They knew him. How? Lexa should have been the only one able to identify him, but why would she tell them? They were on the same side, or so he thought.

"Now Hawke."

"Do it," Lexa hissed.

There were too many for him to take on and get her out, he decided, setting the Colt .45 to the ground, but keeping it as close as his captor would allow.

He watched as Lexa's eyes widened in horror, and he realized they still had no plans to keep him around. Instinct took over faster than he could think and he dove to cover even as the first shot rang out, nicking the corner of the wooden crate he had taken shelter behind.

It didn't take long for him to figure out he needed to recover his gun, but knowing it and being able to do it were two totally different things. And Lexa. He had to get her out too. The more he thought about it, the more difficult and complicated it seemed to get.

Another shot shattered the air, this one nearly catching him in the shoulder as he scrambled for cover from his new opponent. It was risky he knew it, but without him or Lexa being armed plus the fact they were out numbered two to one, there was no way around it; he had to gain some sort of advantage.

Diving for the floor as a third shot was fired, he grabbed the gun, rolling out of harm's warm for the moment.

"Get the girl!" he heard one Russian yell on his left while Lexa knocked another to his knees, slamming his own gun into the back of his skull.

"Watch out!" he yelled in Lexa's direction, scurrying out of the way just barely in time to avoid being shot.

With the gun stolen from the Russian she had brought down, she shot in the direction of where the last bullet had originated, but the shot went wide. It did, however, achieve forcing him out of his hiding place and into the open long enough for Hawke to get a shot at him.

Seemingly out of nowhere, another two shots were fired, catching Hawke in the side, ripping through his flesh with a fiery burn. Another sounded, taking out his attacker with a single round, and the Russian fell to the ground with an audible thud.

Only one left, Hawke told himself, clutching his bleeding side. Struggling to his feet only to have his knees buckle and give way beneath him, he could already feel himself about to hit the ground when strong yet delicate hands caught him, easing him down more gently.

Eyes closed and breathing hard, he could hear Lexa's footsteps echoing off in the distance as she pounded off after the escaping Russian patrolman. He was alone now, or so he thought.

He should go after them in case she needed help, he told himself, knowing full and well she could take care of herself as well as he could. But at the very least he should take at the wound - see how bad it was - but he wasn't sure he was quite that brave at the moment. It sure hurt bad enough, that was for sure. Get over yourself, Hawke, you've been through worse; right now you have to go back up Lexa before things get even worse. He had started to roll over, to attempt getting to his feet so he could stagger after her, bloodied gun in hand, when he realized he wasn't alone.

A firm hand stopped him with little effort, not that it would have taken much, Hawke admitted to himself ruefully.

"She'll be fine," Caitlin's familiar voice told him. "Question is - will you?"

"I'll live," Hawke rasped wearily. "I should go after her though."

"Dom and Airwolf can take care of that. Now hold still a minute and let me have a look at that."

Carefully moving his hand, she examined the wound. It didn't look good by any stretch but it could have been worse.

"Looks like it passed all the way through to me. You should live, but we still need to get some antiseptic on it until we can get you to a doctor."

"Both passed through?"

"Both?"

"Yeah," he replied with grimace, trying not very successfully to hide the pain he was in.

"Maybe we should go ahead and see about getting you to a doctor."

"No, we're in Russia, Cait. And I kind of doubt they're really going to be all that hospitable after what we've done to their police force, especially considering we aren't even supposed to be here."

"Maybe Michael has a FIRM clinic," she suggested.

"I'll be fine," he assured her, suppressing a groan as he struggled into a sitting position. "For now let's get Lexa and go home. We've come this far, and I'd rather not be caught in World War III."

"Fair enough," she acquiesced, "but only if you promise to tell me if it gets any worse and let me bandage you up once we get back to Airwolf."

"I think I can handle that," he managed with a withering grin.

"Then let's get going before you get any weaker. I don't want to have to carry you up all those stairs back to the roof."

"There are a few aren't there?"

"A few? Try fourteen few flights of them."