Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III sat back down in his white leather chair and reached for his coffee. He took an appreciative gulp and leaned back, propping his feet on the polished wood of his desk as he settled in to read the latest intelligence report. He appeared almost relaxed having eschewed the jacket of his three-piece white suit and rolled up the sleeves of his matching crisp white shirt; the tie had joined the jacket on the back of the chair and the top button was undone revealing a tanned neck. His good eye skipped through the formal language of the report and picked out the detail with a speed born of experience and he was thoroughly immersed when the intercom buzzer sounded.

He hit it, irritated at the interruption. 'Yes?'

'Sir, Alan Hawke is here to see you.'

Michael frowned and rubbed a finger across his moustache. He briefly wondered what Stringfellow Hawke's father could want with him; there was only one way to find out. He swung his legs down from the desk decisively. 'Send him in.' He was already half-way across the room to greet his unexpected guest when his assistant knocked lightly on the office door and opened it to allow the older man entry.

'Mr Hawke.' Michael held out his hand. 'It's good to see you again.' He was reminded anew how much Alan looked like his oldest son, Saint John. The height and build were exactly the same, the features remarkably similar. It was only in the colouring that they differed; Alan sported a thatch of grey hair cut short in an army style and his eyes were the same startling blue shared by the Hawke son Michael knew best.

Alan shook hands firmly. 'Michael, thank you for seeing me, and please; it's Alan.'

'Alan.' Michael waved him into a plush leather chair in a small seating area by the far window. 'Can I offer you some refreshment?'

'Ah, no, no. Thank you.' Alan sat down a little awkwardly and took a deep breath as Michael dismissed the assistant and joined him.

'Have you and your family settled in?' Michael asked politely. The Hawke family had been reunited a few weeks before after years of separation following Alan's crusade to bring the Mob gangster responsible for his father's death to justice. Michael was aware that the elder Hawkes and their younger son, Seb, had really only made the complete move to LA the week before.

'We're comfortable.' Alan said. He gestured at Michael. 'I should thank you again. Your people have been have been very helpful finding us accommodation.'

Michael lifted a hand from the arm of the chair in a gesture of dismissal. 'It was the least we could do.'

Alan cleared his throat. 'You're probably wondering why I'm here.'

'The thought had crossed my mind.' Michael admitted. Hawke and his wife Caitlin were currently on leave from the Airwolf project Michael ran. Caitlin had been badly injured in an attack and was recuperating; Hawke hadn't left his wife's side since her miraculous waking in the hospital. Hawke had asked Michael and his wife Marella to give them some space and the couple had acquiesced to their friends' wishes. As a result, Michael was only peripherally aware of what had happened with the Hawke family reunion since.

'It was Saint John's suggestion.' Alan admitted.

Michael raised an eyebrow but showed no other sign of the surprise he felt at the comment. His relationship with Hawke's elder brother was in a state of truce but they weren't exactly best buddies.

'He thought you might be able to help us.' Alan continued.

'If I can.' Michael allowed quietly. His words seemed to reassure Alan who nodded as though confirming something.

'It's about String.' Alan said bluntly.

'Ah.' Michael tensed imperceptibly and he leaned back in his chair, regarding the older man thoughtfully.

Alan sighed and leaned forward restlessly. 'How much do you know about what's been going on since Caitlin was released from the hospital?'

'Not much.' Michael admitted. 'Hawke asked us to give them some space.' He clasped his hands together, his elbows digging into the leather arms of the chair. 'We've done so.'

Alan nodded again. 'He asked us to do the same.' He got up suddenly and paced to the window looking out at the harsh landscape of Devil's Anvil where Michael's office in the Red Star complex was located. 'At first, we figured that it wouldn't be a problem. Jane and I had to go back and sort out the house and the business in Collway, and the kids had their own plans.'

'But,' prompted Michael when Alan fell silent.

'We got back last week and discovered that nobody had heard from String since they left the hospital and went up to the cabin.'

Michael frowned.

Alan turned back to Michael. 'We went up there last night as a family, thought we'd drop in, say hello, see if they needed anything.' He sighed deeply. 'String wasn't pleased to see us.'

Michael made a sympathetic noise but didn't comment; Hawke wasn't known for his love of unexpected guests.

'He made it pretty plain he wanted to be left alone.' Alan said gruffly. 'As you can imagine his mother's pretty upset.' He looked back at the vista through the window. 'We all are. We thought we'd gotten the family back together again and now…' he whirled back to Michael. ' Saint John thought that you might be able to help.'

Michael tapped his moustache thoughtfully. 'Has Saint John told you about his and Stringfellow's lives after you went into witness protection?'

'He's told me about how String believed he was MIA for a long time if that's what you're getting at.' Alan retorted, his protectiveness of his eldest son gleamed in his eyes.

'Actually that wasn't what I was referring to.' Michael said mildly. He leaned forward and gestured for the other man to sit. Michael waited until Alan grudgingly retook his seat before he continued. 'You obviously know how your sons thought you and your wife were dead after the boating accident; that Alex Brannigan, their uncle, handed over custody rights to Dominic Santini and he raised the boys.'

'Dom looked after them.' Alan confirmed. He fervently wished his old friend was still alive. He would have preferred dealing with the no-nonsense Dom than the spy in front of him.

Michael's lips twitched as though he had read Alan's mind. 'Saint John went into the army and Hawke followed. Just before he was sent to 'Nam his fiancée died in a car accident; Hawke was driving.' He paused. 'It was a loss but Hawke was focused on being reunited with Saint John which he was in 'Nam. Your sons were infamous; the best helicopter pilots we had.'

'I know all this.' Alan couldn't quite keep the pride out of his voice. 'I don't see…'

'And then he suddenly didn't have Saint John at all.' Michael talked over the older man authoratively and silenced him. 'Did Saint John tell you the details of how they got separated?'

Alan shook his head.

'The intel was bad. The incursion was a bust and the majority of the unit went down. Saint John insisted Hawke went out on the first wave of rescue choppers. Hawke promised to go back for his brother.'

The office was silent. Alan sat enraptured with Michael's tale.

'Hawke always keeps his promises.' Michael commented wryly. 'He went back. Only there were too many downed soldiers and the ropes filled up too quickly; there was no more room for Saint John. The reports said Saint John gave him the order to leave; waved him on. Hawke promised to go back.'

'And he went back again?' Alan asked quietly.

'He went back again; against orders.' Michael said. 'The area was overrun by the Vietcong and there was no sign of Saint John.'

'Saint John mentioned he had been captured before String got back.' Alan noted settling back into the chair. Michael had caught his attention and he wanted to hear the rest of it; he had a feeling it was very important.

'He was.' Michael agreed. 'But we're not talking about Saint John; we're talking about Stringfellow.'

Alan's blue eyes flashed but he nodded. 'Go on.'

'Hawke searched from his brother without any success. His tour finished. He signed right back up.' Michael gestured. 'He was determined to find him. Every day, every week, every year went by with Hawke following any scrap of information, any hint, any rumour; all to no avail. Inevitably, there was another mission that went bad and he spent sometime as a POW himself but he was saved. He was in a hospital when Saigon fell.'

Michael saw the shock flare in Alan's eyes; basic information about his own son that he hadn't known. The spy got to his feet and headed for the drinks cabinet.

'For a while, it seemed Hawke had decided to move on with his life. Oh, he still looked for Saint John but back in the States with so little information to go on he had to move on. He applied to NASA, went to the moon…'

'He went to the moon?' Alan repeated.

'He was an excellent shuttle pilot.' Michael confirmed as he finished pouring bourbon into crystal glasses. 'Unfortunately, your brother-in-law decided to interfere. Brannigan, of course, used him.' He picked up the glasses and made his way back to the seats. He handed Alan one glass and sat down holding the other. 'I can't be too sorry about that; it's how Hawke and I met.'

'What happened?' Alan asked reluctantly eager to hear the story, to hear about his son.

'Brannigan and I were after the same information. I got there first but I was captured on my way out. I hid the information; Brannigan wanted it.' Michael took a sip of the fiery liquid and let the burn caress the back of his throat. 'I was being held in a prison in Siberia with one route in and out of a very tricky runway. Brannigan used Hawke to make the trip. Hawke wouldn't leave me behind.' His lips twisted at the memory. 'He got captured and locked up with me. The short story is we escaped and I invited Hawke to come work for me at the FIRM.'

'I might have known Alex would be responsible for getting him mixed up in all this spy business.' Alan's distaste for his brother-in-law and for the world of espionage evident in his tone.

Michael smiled a little and raised his glass. 'Hawke worked me for a while. He was an outstanding operative; one of the best field agents I've ever worked with; definitely the best pilot but he got bored and he got restless. I produced Airwolf to stop him leaving.' He tapped his glass. 'I knew Hawke would never resist the opportunity to fly a mach-capable helicopter and they were made for each; the perfect helicopter and the perfect pilot.'

'And you were right.'

Michael inclined his head. 'Only Airwolf's creator Moffett ensured that I was temporarily replaced and Hawke was manoeuvred out of the Airwolf programme.'

'And Moffett stole Airwolf from you.' Alan gestured at him with his untouched drink. ' Saint John told me about that.'

'Hawke never stopped looking for Saint John. He refused to believe Saint John was dead. Those of us around him thought he was mad, and the only one who seemed to believe him at all was Dominic, and then, only I think, because he knew Hawke needed for him to believe.' Michael sighed. 'When Hawke left, he used his intelligence experience to go undercover as a mercenary for a while, but it didn't help him locate Saint John. He went back home; back to Dom; back to the only person who had been a constant for him all his life.'

Alan was silent for long moment.

Michael cleared his throat. 'I engaged Hawke to retrieve Airwolf. He told me the price was the FIRM finding out what had happened to his brother. He carried out the mission successfully but he lost the woman he had fallen for; one of my assistants, Gabrielle.' He tossed back the rest of his drink and placed the glass carefully on the coffee table in front of him. 'Hawke kept Airwolf to force the FIRM into keeping its part of the deal. I made my own arrangement with Hawke and about six months after Hawke took control of Airwolf, he met Caitlin. She tracked him down after running across him and Airwolf in Texas.'

'And they married.' Alan stated.

Michael laughed shortly and rubbed his moustache. 'Well, not immediately. They were attracted; I think we all knew that before they did but…'

'But eventually…'

'Eventually.' Michael sighed. 'Caitlin showed a great tenacity for not dying which helped.'

'I noticed that.' Alan remarked dryly. It was a miracle his daughter-in-law was still alive given the injuries she had sustained.

'But then we thought she had.' Michael commented. 'Last year. She was kidnapped and her death faked. Hawke fell for it initially. It almost killed him until he worked it out and rescued her. They'd only just recovered from it when Dom was killed and Saint John was found.'

'He's been through a lot,' Alan allowed, 'but I'm not sure…'

'The reason for my telling you this?' Michael gestured. 'Hawke has spent years of his life dealing with loss after loss after loss.' He waited a moment for Alan to absorb the truth of that. 'Back when Hawke and I made our deal? He was…different. He had pretty much become a hermit on the mountain. He was so wary of involvement, believing it only inevitably led to loss. Dom was the only person who was close to him at all; the only person Hawke would let close.'

Alan finally took a sip of his drink.

Michael tapped his finger against his moustache. 'Honestly, I don't know how Caitlin did it but she managed to get close to Hawke before he seemed to realise just how close she was and then he didn't allow her to get any closer for a long time.' He gestured at the older man. 'He thought he was protecting her. Everyone around him died, or so he believed.'

'He was protecting himself.' Alan said in quiet realisation. 'From being hurt again.'

Michael nodded. 'It took him a long time to work past that.' He gestured at Alan. 'And he still struggles with it occasionally whenever Caitlin has a close call or he gets worried that things are going too well.'

Alan sighed. 'So I'm guessing you think this latest close call has resurrected all of that?'

'That and one other thing.' Michael held Alan's questioning gaze. 'He just lost Dom all over again.'

'They were very close.' Alan stated, breaking his gaze with Michael to stare into the amber depths of the bourbon he held.

'You're his father,' Michael said gently, 'but so was Dom.'

Alan set the drink aside and straightened. 'How do I fix this?'

Michael smiled wryly. 'You don't. He will.' He saw the flicker of protest begin and waved it away. 'Hawke will work it out. You just need to give him what he asked for; space.' He said firmly.

'I'm not sure I can do that.' Alan said. 'I'm damned sure Jane won't.'

'You push too hard and all you'll do is push him away.' Michael said.

Alan nodded slowly, recognising the truth of Michael's words. He wondered how he was going to break it to his wife. He got to his feet. 'Thank you.' He hesitated. 'Look, tomorrow is the anniversary of Dom's death. Jo thought it would be good for us all to get together in the apartment; help her clear things but remember him at the same time.' He gestured awkwardly. 'I think Dom would want you to come along.'

'Thank you.' Michael pushed himself out of the chair. 'I'll try to make it.' He walked Alan over to the door. 'Alan, one other thing…'

Alan looked at him inquisitively.

'You have someone else on your side who'll help.' Michael added.

'You…'

'Not me.' Michael hastily asserted. His good eye twinkled at Alan's confusion. 'Caitlin.'