Hawke peeled off a wad of bills from the roll he held and handed it to the clerk, trying not to notice the avaricious way he counted the money, before dropping a slim band of gold into his outstretched hand. Not much for two weeks combat pay, he thought grimly before turning to Tuyen.

Beside him, she eyed the scarred jewelry and pawn shop at Tan Son Nhut with wide eyes.

"Sorry, it's not more," he said, flashing her an abashed grin.

Tuyen glanced up at him with confusion in her eyes. "Why?"

Okay, maybe it mattered more to him than to her, Hawke thought, raking a frustrated hand through his dark fringe. He was wise enough to know though, the ring would help at least keep some of the whispers at bay. Bad enough the marriage would be viewed as a mixed one by some of the bigots at home; he could do without the sly comments about the child being a bastard.

Yeah, maybe technically he was, but it wasn't for lack of trying on Scott's part or his.

Hawke reached down and snagged her fingers, carefully sliding the plain gold band over her third knuckle. "It says you are mine," he rasped hoarsely. "My wife, vợ của tôi."

Thoughtfully, she eyed the ring. "I thought wedding did that," she remarked softly in her lilting English.

His fingers tightened around hers. Yeah, maybe it did, but that'd be cold comfort with Scott dead and him halfway around the world, getting shot at.

"Bit more complicated than that," he muttered dryly.

Questioning brown eyes met his. "So, tell," she said frowning at him.

Hawke cast an uneasy look at the clerk who was obviously listening to every word of their conversation. "Let's talk outside," he muttered, grasping her elbow and steering her out the door.
The shop door jingled shut behind them, and String cast an anxious glance over his shoulder before drawing her near. "You do understand, I can't stay with you, Tuyen?" he began.

She nodded solemnly. "Orders," she murmured.

"Yeah," String muttered. Orders - he couldn't even begin to explain the rest. Finding Saint John was his mess, not hers. He sighed, trying to decide how to continue. Blunt honesty seemed the best approach. Goodness knew, there'd been little enough of that so far.

"Look," he said. "For you to stay in the States, the military has to believe you're my wife."

She nodded. "Am your wife."

"Yeah, well," Hawke rubbed his chin. "Sorta. They thought the baby was mine, too."

She scowled. "Baby Scott's, Tuyen's."

The shopkeeper stepped out, eyeing them curiously.

Spotting him, Hawke snatched her arm to his, dragging her along in his wake. "No!" he rasped in a harsh whisper. "You can't tell anyone that!"

Hurt showed clearly in her face. "But is…"

He huffed a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, I know. But Tuyen, my C.O. finds that out and we're dead meat. They'll haul you and the baby back here so fast your head will spin - not to mention have me up on charges. I can kiss my wings goodbye."

Worry bloomed in her eyes. "Hawke get trouble 'cause he marry Tuyen?"

String scowled. "Forget that Tuyen," he growled impatiently. "The point is, we get caught, they'll toss you and that baby back in that damn jungle!"

Catching her wide-eyed stare, his exasperated tone softened. "Look, I don't want that for you, Tuyen. Scott wouldn't want that for you. At least in the States you'll be safe. Dom'll see to that. Assuming he doesn't rip my head off before I can explain, he thought grimly.

Fine, dark brows drew together thoughtfully. "Dom?" she questioned.

"Yeah, Dom," String ground out. "My …." he trailed off. How exactly did one explain his relationship with Dom? - his father, but not exactly; friend - but a whole lot more. Dom had got a lot of flak raising him and Saint John, and it seemed he was about to get a whole lot more… "Dominic Santini," he returned. "He's a friend, family, he raised me."

Tuyen gave him the barest hint of a smile. Family, gia dinh, she understood. Hers had been everything to her, until suddenly one day they were gone…

Scott had been family, too, she thought with a pang of sorrow. All too well she understood the concept of loss.

Hawke might be her family now, but that did not mean Scott's was not. She couldn't let that go.

Dark brown eyes watched Hawke under feathery raven's wing lashes. Hawke knew loss too, she thought, taking in the unhappy stormy blue eyes and the downward twist to the fine lips.

She had a feeling, this Dominic - here she rolled the unfamiliar name around on her tongue - had known his fair share of it as well. To have raised Hawke, he would have had to, he could not have escaped it.

Still, if he had raised him, he had to be a good man, a strong man. He would understand the concept of family; he would understand this son of his, even if Hawke feared he would not.

"No," she shook her head determinedly. "I must go Scott's family. They know about me, they know the baby. We belong there."

Hawke stared at her aghast. "You're kidding, right?" he growled, forgetting for an instant she'd have no concept of what kidding was. "The army'll pin both our hides to the wall when they find out!"

She shook her head soberly. "No, Hawke," she replied. "They will want; he is their grandson."

Hawke stared. The way she said it left no room for doubt. He shifted awkwardly, watching her.

"Tuyen, they raise a fuss, this could all come down around us," he warned. "At least with Dom, you'll be safe. We'll work something out about the rest later," he promised. Reality pressed in cold around his heart, "And if something were to happen to me, you'd at least get my benefits."

It wasn't much maybe, but it wasn't like he had anyone else to leave behind. Dom wouldn't need it and she sure wouldn't be getting Scott's the way things stood. It was too late for that.

Implacable dark eyes met his, laced with a hint of sympathy. "No, Hawke."

He sighed. "You're sure?"

She nodded.

Struggling to her feet, Jo swiped a lank strand of blonde hair out of her face. The violet eyes were shadowed, haunted. And Saint John wondered why she didn't want more children, she thought humorlessly…

Thinking of Bella, her soul ached for the one they'd lost, the one she'd cost them. How did one ever get past that? How could he forgive her, when she couldn't forgive herself? How could she trust herself again?

She sighed, knowing she couldn't.

Pain glittered in blue-green eyes as Caitlin stared at String, caught somewhere between sympathy and wanting to wring his neck. She knew with her head he'd done the right thing, maybe not the most overboard thing, but the only thing he could do under the circumstances. He could've no more left Tuyen, than cut off his own arm.

It was why she loved him; it was also a pretty good reason to kill him…

She gave an irritated sigh.

Saint John shot her an uneasy look, relieved his relationship with Jo wasn't this complicated.

January 22, 1970 - Denver International Airport
Denver, Colorado

"You sure you'll be okay?" Hawke asked Tuyen, his storm-colored eyes raking over her worriedly. "It's not too late for you to change your mind and come back with me and let me introduce you to Dom."

The dark brown eyes raised and met his, before glancing over at a middle-aged blonde couple cradling a baby with decidedly dark brown fuzz between them. "Scott's parents might feel differently about that," she murmured huskily.

Watching them, Hawke grinned. "Yeah, I think you may be right."

She smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "I wish Scott could see," she whispered, with sorrow in her voice.

Hawke wrapped his arm around her in a comforting hug. "Me too," he rasped.

She turned back to him, searching his face. "So, what will you do, Hawke?"

He shrugged diffidently. "Go back. Hunt for Saint John." His fingers caught hers. "Wait for letter from my wife."

Her expression was serious as she met his. "Watch your back, Hawke."

He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You'll write?" he asked, searching her face.

She nodded.

Hawke took a step back, rifling through his duffel, finally digging out an envelope which he handed to her.

Her fingers closed around it, taking it, even as her eyes questioned him.

He shrugged, his expression wry as he looked at Scott's parents and then her. "Take it," he murmured. "You probably won't need it. But take it, just in case you need to give it to Dom."

She didn't have to ask what just in case meant. Just in case it didn't work out, just in case he didn't make it back…just in case she had to tell Dom he had a wife and his son wasn't around to do it.

Her face crumpled, and then she was flinging herself across the feet that separated them, sobbing.

Staggering under her sudden weight, Hawke caught her, the blue eyes bemused. "Shh-h," he whispered. "It'll be okay."

Her hiccupping sobs got harder.

For a paper marriage, this was suddenly feeling all too real…

"One year and you'll have your freedom," he promised.

Still crying, she nodded.

Scott's parents were now watching them curiously, he realized and he knew it was time to go. He hugged her roughly, kissing the top of her head as he did so. "Take care, Tuyen," he whispered, loosing her and reaching for the dropped duffel bag.

Her arms sliding free of his waist, she stepped back, her brown eyes were still tear-filled. "Thank you, Hawke. For everything."

He nodded, serious blue eyes meeting hers as he swung the duffel over his shoulder and turned to go.