The rain streamed down the window pane, a never-ending torrent; the rumble of thunder sharp in her ears. Memories pressed back in in hideous clarity - the look on Saint John's face when he'd shown up at the hospital two years ago - already too late, String hard on his heels. The panic, the fear, knowing something was wrong, yet not knowing what.
Even now, she could remember the light of relief in his hazel eyes, as he'd spotted her in the hospital hallway. The way the tension had rolled out of him, as his strong arms enveloped her, dragging her to him. The desperate relief in his husky voice as he'd whispered, "Oh baby, you scared me. I'm so glad you're okay,'' as he'd held her close.
Except everything hadn't been okay, she thought with a gulp as she fought the sheets, swinging unsteadily out of the hospital bed and staggering to the window, wanting to be anywhere but here.
To this day, she thought String had realized it first, pain settling over his face and defeat sagging his shoulders as he took in her tear-tracked cheeks and reached for Saint John's shoulder.
A low moan escaped her lips as she remembered the look on Saint John's face, the way he'd greyed before her, staggering, tears running down his cheeks as she'd fought for words to tell him their daughter was dead. The heaving breath of a silent sob, as a man she'd always thought of as unbreakable crumpled before her, Bella's name on his lips.
Wincing, Jo leaned against the window, misery in her eyes wondering how she could ever do it again. To offer Sinj the one thing he most wanted, only to snatch it away in the next breath. Choking back a sob, she pressed her forehead against the glass, one palm sliding down it damply.
Behind her, the thick wood door snicked open; a heavyset nurse frowning, scowl lines sharp in her face as she saw her patient out of bed - most definitely against doctor's orders. "Mrs. Hawke," she clipped, the irritated words dying on her lips as she took in the silent sobs that shook the slender frame and the tear-filled violet eyes.
Feeling suddenly old she sighed wearily, tired steps carrying her across the worn tile floor to wrap a comforting arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "Doctor Peters wants to speak to you. Why don't we get you settled back in , before he has both our heads?"
Storm clouds roiled across the skies above the lake - dark, angry, menacing. Almost subconsciously, Tuyen shuddered superstitiously, crossing herself. Õm may mắn as her grandmother would've called it - a harbringer of doom.
Impatience bit at her - had twenty years of living in America taught her nothing? It was superstition - nothing more, and she was not a child any longer. It meant nothing...
Still…nervous fingers plucked uneasily at a branch, that slapped stingingly against her face, as she remembered it was a storm such as this that had blown Stringfellow Hawke into her life in the first place, and taken Scott from her.
Long, dark hair whipped around her waist as she struggled back to the cabin suddenly anxious as black, shadowy clouds piled up and surrounded everything in their angry maw.
"Cait! Hey, Cait, where are you?" Everett's worried voice echoed off the hanger walls, reaching back to the cramped office.
Abruptly snatching back to reality, Caitlin dropped the picture she held as if it'd burned her. "In here, Ev," she called back, hoping he didn't hear the quaver in her voice as clearly as she did.
Everett's usually cheerful face swung around the office door, even as a gust of wind whipped through the office, swirling and tossing all the papers she'd just been reading into the air.
Instinctively, Cait's hands slapped down across the desk, just in time to catch the photo of String and the baby right before it took flight.
"Yeah, Ev?" the redhead questioned, biting back a sigh of frustration as papers rained down around her, littering the floor. "What's up?"
Concerned brown eyes met hers. "Thought you were flying back to the cabin an hour ago."
"I…I was," Cait stuttered, giving him a wan smile. "Well, at least I intended to." Blinking, she drew a shaky breath. "Why, what's up?"
A worried scowl settled across his face. "I got a radio message from a …Tuyen."
"Yeah?" Cait questioned, her voice gone flat.
"Seems a storm's blowing in up there, and she can't find Nicky."
"What do you mean she can't find Nicky?" the red-head demanded, feeling full-fledged panic grab hold. She'd known she should have never left the kids there with that woman. What had she been thinking?
Frantically, Cait snatched open the desk drawer, reaching for her purse, her fingers scrabbling across the metal bottom and breaking a nail. She didn't seem to even notice.
Watching her, Everett's frown was worried. "There's something else you need to know, Caitlin," he said.
"What?" she snapped impatiently, suddenly meeting his eyes.
"There's a storm moving in here," he began. "I thought you were gone, so…"
"Storm?" the redhead demanded. "What storm?"
"Yeah," the mechanic muttered grimly, as he dragged off a battered baseball cap and raked his hand through his hair, knowing she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Mother of all storms, they're saying…the tower's shutting down the airfield."
The drawer slammed shut with a bang, Caitlin shoving past him running out of the office and through the hanger.
"Cait?!!" he yelled. "Cait, wait!"
Beneath his hands, Hawke felt the plane shudder again. There was no denying the starboard side engine was failing now. It was just a matter of time, before it seized up completely - assuming of course, he didn't run out of fuel first. A square-tipped finger thumped the cracked fuel gauge in frustration. Evidently, the engine hadn't been the only thing hit back there.
"Anything on radar yet?" String's worried voice cut across Airwolf's radio. Sinj shot an anxious glance Mike's way, noting the way his head lolled loosely, before pulling up the radar display himself. You didn't have to tell him they were running out of time and luck.
"Not a thing," he remarked wearily. "Unless, of course you count that helluva huge storm moving in from the east."
Hawke winced, rolling his aching shoulders against the knot of tension that had long since settled in them. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know if they didn't find that carrier soon, Archangel wouldn't be having to worry about anybody ending up with his military secrets.
"How much fuel you got left?" he asked.
"Enough," Saint John clipped. "I'm not leaving you, baby bro."
Blue eyes crinkled wearily at the bulldog determination in Sinj's voice. He didn't have to guess to know the Lady had to be on fumes by now. There'd been no re-fueling in Cuba. The USS Enterprise remained their best bet - both the Lady's and Mike's.
He only hoped it was his as well. Archangel had been a little vague about how many feet it took to land this thing.