Vietnam - Fall 1969
November 28 - 7:45 pm

"Come on, Hawke, lighten up," Reynolds teased. "You've got to be the most uptight guy I've ever met."

Quirking an irritated eyebrow over startlingly blue eyes, Stringfellow Hawke shifted his M-16 rifle on his shoulder before glancing over at his buddy. "Really?" he muttered. "Could that be because your girlfriend lives out here in Charlie's neck of the woods and I was stupid enough to let you talk me into coming along or the fact we're out here without leave? You do know the kinda trouble we'll get in if we get caught, don't 'cha, Scott?"

The baby -faced soldier beside him with the shock of blonde hair grimaced momentarily, before the gleam of excitement brightened his own hazel eyes once more. "Yeah, I'm aware String, but even you couldn't deny a man the chance to see his own kid be born could you?"

Nineteen-year old Stringfellow Hawke tried to resist the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth at his buddy's words and failed. "Nah, I don't suppose I could, Reynolds. You'd just better not get us shot."

Twenty-one year old Reynolds smirked. "Hey, I'm charmed and you know it, Hawke. I've already got the prettiest girl in South Vietnam. What more could a guy want?"

Amusement slid across Hawke's features. "A son?"

Scott's grin widened at his buddy's words. "Well, that too, maybe," he acknowledged. Shifting his own rifle, the two walked on in companionable silence towards the village one click away.

Hawke shifted his grip on his weapon, the vague feeling of disquiet that'd gripped him the last 500 or so yards returning. Uneasily, blue eyes scanned the forest around them, Colonel Burns's words echoing in his head.

Alerts of increased Vietcong activity around the camp had been issued days ago, creating extra guard duty for everyone. He'd known without asking there was no way the Colonel would sanction Reynolds's trip off to one of the local villages, when word had come from one of the locals that Tuyen was about to give birth to his baby.

He'd also known Reynolds was going to see her anyway, would move heaven and earth to do so and that his bunkmate was probably the worst shot in the whole camp.

Wanting to go or not, Stringfellow Hawke didn't see as he had a lot of choice. He wasn't about to turn Reynolds in for wanting to see his kid born and he sure couldn't let him go alone.

Sighing, he trudged on in silence, his hand still on his gun.

---

Long, dark hair clinging to her sweat-soaked neck, Tuyen Vanh Truong's slender arms cuddled the dark-haired baby boy who nuzzled at her breast. Her fingers brushed his cheeks, wondering at the blue eyes he had - so unlike hers and her family's.

Scott's eyes, she thought with a grin.

She had so hoped he'd come when Linh Mai had said she'd take word to him. Unfortunately, the older woman had not yet returned.

A worried frown furrowed her brow. It was not like her godmother to be late. She knew soldiers had been in the area lately, rumors of sympathizers abounded and livestock around the village had been disappearing with alarming numbers.

Surely, they would not bother an old woman though?

A couple of American GI's though might be another story. Somehow, she sensed if Scott came, his friend Hawke would as well.

---

"So, you planning on marrying her?" Hawke asked, frowning at the blonde head in front of him on the trail. The itch between his shoulder blades was getting stronger though the closer they got to the village and no matter how many times he glanced over his shoulder, he couldn't catch sight of the presence that he knew lurked out there in the underbrush.

Reynolds head swung back his way, the light blue eyes clearly distracted with thoughts of Tuyen. "Hmm?"

"I said, you planning on marrying her?" Hawke asked, even as he kicked himself for the words. He knew it was none of his business what Reynolds did, but he couldn't help wondering what would happen to a kid born out here without a father.

Thoughts of losing his own parents crowded in and he shoved them away with ruthless determination.

It was bad enough losing a brother, he thought. What would it be like to never know your father.

Scott glanced at him soberly. "Yes, mother Hawke," he teased. "I'm planning on doing the right thing. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Nah," String replied, relief lighting his eyes. His step a little lighter he picked up his pace, listening to his friend ramble on about plans to marry Tuyen and to take her home with him when he went on leave, he'd already written to his parents they had a grandbaby on the way.

The uneasy prickle didn't leave the back of his neck though.

---

Stunned, Caitlin Hawke stared at her husband. Well, okay she thought he was her husband, suddenly not sure what to think. California didn't recognize bigamy did it? Grief, she thought, she was going to be sick.

No, no, surely not. She must've misheard, misunderstood. She looked to Saint John for assurance she'd just lost her mind - temporarily.

He looked as shell-shocked as she was.

Fumbling, Cait reached for the tail boom of the helicopter beside her, afraid if she didn't catch it, she'd fall on her face.

"Hawke?" she whispered in a strangled voice.

How he heard her she'd never know, but once again his sharp hearing didn't disappoint. He turned, his arm still loosely draped around Tuyen's waist.

He grinned. "Cait, I'd like you to meet…" he began.

"I heard," she murmured, her right fist clenching against her stomach and every freckle standing out against her pale skin. "What I haven't heard yet, is an explanation."

Bewildered, String shot a confused glance first at her and then Saint John's way.

His older brother looked no happier with him.

Comprehension slammed into him like a gut punch as he realized what Tuyen had said and that they'd both obviously heard. He'd never told Dom about Tuyen, afraid he'd never be able to make the older man understand and Sinj had already been missing at the time.

Telling Cait years later had never crossed his mind…

Evidently it should have, he thought with a sick glance at her shocked face.

Instinctively, his arm jerked away from Tuyen's waist, putting some distance between them. "I can explain, Cait," he began.

"Well, I would hope so," she fired back, hurt clearly in her eyes.

Grimacing, he wondered if there was an explanation good enough…

November 28, 8 pm 1969

The feeling of unease didn't leave Hawke's neck as he followed Reynolds into the small Vietnamese village. If anything, it was getting stronger.

Warily, he cast one last glance over his shoulder as he followed Scott into the hooch. Ducking, he stepped through the rough door.

He heard the soft exclamation of breath before he saw her, half-hidden in the flickering lamplight. Hair dark as midnight falling in an ebony curtain around her shoulders, she held a tiny, squirming baby to her breast.

Flushing, he turned an embarrassed glance elsewhere.

"You came!" Tuyen cried, her soft voice excited at Reynolds by his side.

Scott chuckled, his voice low. "You knew I would."

Trying to sidle back out the door, Hawke heard rather than saw Scott make his way across the hooch. Reaching over he lifted the baby into his arms.

"Hey, String, come meet my boy," he called, his voice proud.

Hawke winced, feeling the heat climb his neck. He'd thought he'd made his escape. "Nah, Reynolds. Maybe later," he muttered, heading for the door.

Reynolds laughed. "Come on, Hawke. Don't be such a prude. Guy doesn't get to show off his new kid just everyday."

---

"I'm waiting, Hawke," Cait's barely discernable whisper cut through his thoughts.

---

November 28, 8:07pm 1969

The sharp retort of rifle fire echoed across the village sending a jolt of awareness through Hawke. Scrambling up from his knees Hawke reached for his M-16, Reynolds a little faster as he grabbed his gun and headed out the door.

Tangled in baby blankets String cursed, trying to hand Reynold's squalling, half-naked son back to Tuyen. Mostly, she just looked terrified.

"Reynolds, wait!" he yelled, foisting the crying baby at her.

Tuyen started to scramble to her knees. "Scott!"

The screams from outside grew louder, joined by the sound of rifle fire and the crash of what sounded like an overturned ox cart. Tuyen was on her feet now, the baby in her arms as she ran for the door barefoot.

A heartbeat behind her, Hawke lunged for her, rifle in hand. "Stay here!" he yelled. "Lu 'u lai o day!" Snatching her arm, he hauled her behind him.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he slammed out of the hooch in search of Scott.

The dark night air was awash in flames. Around him men, women and children ran screaming throughout the village. The sharp retort of rifle fire in the air, the sense of terror was palpable. Reynolds was nowhere to be found.

Gun in hand, Hawke slammed down the steps the only thought in his mind - find Reynolds. He stumbled, nearly hitting the dirt in his haste.

Around the corner, a dark-skinned Vietnamese man in fatigues stepped out AK-47 raised. In horror, Hawke recognized the attire of the PRU - South Vietnam's elite recon units known for their erradication of the Viet Cong and sometimes whole villages.

Behind the soldier, Hawke saw Reynolds step out, raising his own gun, firing.

And for once he didn't miss, he thought, the breath whooshing out of his lungs as he watched the PRU soldier die in front of him. Knowing he'd been granted a reprieve he didn't deserve, Hawke raised grateful blue eyes to his friend.

Only to watch in horror as the next round of bullets mowed him down.

Instinctively, Hawke ducked, sucking in a heaving breath, running pell mell up the stairs, knowing if he didn't get himself and Tuyen out of here in a hurry they'd both be long dead.

Barging through the door, he met Tuyen's shell-shocked brown eyes. "We've gotta go!" he gasped. "Didi mau!"

She shook her head frantically, hysterically. "No, no Scott! Not leave without Scott!"

Never long on tact and fast running out of time String blurted out the brutal truth. "He's dead, Tuyen! Dead!"

Seeing the tears fill her eyes, String cursed himself for being seven kinds of clod even as he tried to shove her for the door.

A booted step on the threshold had him spinning.

A single shot caught him across the ribs, impact slamming him down, Tuyen's screams in his ears. "No VC! No VC!" she sobbed, throwing her hands up as a South Vietnamese army issue boot caught Hawke in the ribs on the floor.