Airwolf settled to the helipad of the Firm clinic gently. Her rotors already slowing as techs charged out with a stretcher to take Roper off. Tersely worded commands were bitten out as he was bundled aboard and they raced off for the elevator.
A second group of orderlies came and gently carried Seb down as well. Blessedly, he had passed out, which considering the shape he'd been in Caitlin figured might be a good thing where he was concerned. Evidently he must take after his mother's side of the family, she mused, he sure didn't have Hawke's hard head.
Hawke was the last one out. A wheelchair had been brought to carry him inside. With typical stubbornness, he refused it, claiming it was his arm that was shot, not his leg. An argument that would have been more convincing if halfway across the roof his legs hadn't crumpled beneath him and he'd nearly hit the ground. The quick actions of the orderlies the only thing saving him from a hard fall.
Marella had come to check on her after that. Caitlin had waved her off, apologizing for leaving Angel Two at the burning airfield. The barest of concern passed over Marella's face before she'd called for a clean up crew to take care of it.
Alone now, Cait headed through the hallways towards the portion of the building that held the top-notch clinic. Logically, she knew the guys were in the best hands possible, but it didn't stop the frisson of fear that blossomed in her stomach. Impatient steps carried her up the stairs two at a time as she headed for the elevators.
The doors were closing as she got there. Cursing, Cait slid to a halt, slamming her palm on the button on the wall. Even as she did so, a well-formed tan hand shot out and caught the doors.
They opened.
"Going my way, Mrs. Hawke?" Michael greeted her with a grin, holding the door ajar with the silver-handled cane.
Relief surged through her as she joined him. "Any word?" she asked, her voice anxious.
Michael reached over to draw her against his side. "Marella's already up there," he said giving her a comforting squeeze. "Roper's in surgery - but I guess you expected that."
Taking a shaky breath, she nodded jerkily.
"The doctors are with Seb now. I'm sure we'll know something soon."
"And Hawke?"
Michael shrugged. "I haven't heard. Knowing him, probably fighting them tooth and nail."
Tiredly Caitlin nodded her head, knowing Michael was probably right.
"Hey, it'll be okay," he assured her. "If Hawke wasn't putting up a fight, then we'd have reason to worry. Your guys are tough."
"I know," she breathed. "I just thought we'd lost Roper there for a while."
He patted her shoulder again before releasing her. Silently, the doors slid open.
Efficient nurses bustled past, intent on their duties, paying them little mind as they did so. Anxiously Caitlin cast a glance at the empty desk.
"Have a set, Cait," Michael said. "I'll go see if I can find a doctor and find out where things stand."
Feeling numb, she sank into a nearby seat to wait.
Time passed at a crawl. The shift changed and nurses and orderlies ebbed and flowed around her like the sea for a couple of minutes. And then near silence as the halls emptied out.
Exhausted she leaned her throbbing head on her hand, snatching it up at the uneven sound of Michael's stride down the hall, accompanied by the staccato tap of Marella's heels. "Michael!" she cried desperate for news by now. "How are they? Can I see them?"
"Now that I can do," he said breaking into a grin. Holding her elbow, he guided her down the hall. "Sorry about the wait. It took a little longer than expected. They'd just wheeled Hawke into surgery when I found the doctor."
"Surgery?" Cait squeaked slamming to a halt in the middle of the hall, her face blanching. "I thought he'd just got winged and needed a few stitches."
Marella looked at Michael inquiringly. He nodded in acquiescence.
"I'm afraid not," she said brown eyes sympathetic. The bullet lodged in the bone and they had to go in to take it out. It did quite a bit of damage."
"But he'll be okay?"
"Given time we think so, yes. The doctors are hopeful the nerve damage won't be too bad, and he is right-handed, so…"
"He'll be able to fly," Michael stated anticipating the next question. At least in a couple months after everything comes off and he's had some time to heal."
Feeling the relief wash through her, Caitlin relaxed. Something niggled at her mind though, something she'd forgotten. Abruptly it fell into place.
"The left hand?" she asked. "You said he was right-handed, so it wouldn't be a problem."
"Yes?" Marella asked questioningly.
"How bad's the left hand?" Caitlin demanded.
"We won't know for a while," Marella tried to explain. "Good enough he should be able to fly, why?"
"What about the cello?" Cait asked.
Realization slammed into both their eyes at once. Michael winced, thinking of Hawke's prize Stradivarius cello at home. Marella dropped her eyes first. "I don't know, Cait," she sighed.
"Damn," she muttered tears threatening again. Hawke would be devastated to lose his music. It was the one thing that brought him peace when nothing else could.
Resolve steeled in her shoulders. Throwing her head up, she stated, "You will not tell him."
"But, Cait," Michael began.
"No," Marella interrupted guessing the direction of the redheads thoughts. "You yourself have said before, one of the things Hawke has going for him is he doesn't know the odds."
Michael nodded, "but Marella how …"
She placed her hand on his arm, continuing as if he hadn't spoken. "I think Cait's right. It would be just as well if he didn't know for now. That way he'll be motivated to do the rehab the doctors give and won't have to deal with the potential loss on top of everything else."
"And how do you propose to explain it later, when the cast comes off, if it doesn't resolve itself?"
"I don't know," Marella conceded with a frown. "But at least by then, he should be on the mend and have his flying back."
"Alright," Michael conceded uneasily, Caitlin's eyes pleading with him. "I guess it'll wait. Like you said, the doctors don't know yet."
Sliding into Seb's room, Caitlin sat. The doctors had decided to keep him a couple days for observation and rest, but she knew Hawke would want a first hand report. Gradually, the younger man stirred, blue eyes blinked open.
Confusion reined for a minute as he tried to place his surroundings. At last, he turned his head in her direction. "Cait," he said sounding pleased.
"Hey," she said smiling back at him. "That was some nap."
"Yeah," he said wincing, holding a hand to the back of his head. "Next time I want the party to go with the hangover. This isn't much of a trade."
She grinned. "I'll be sure and tell Roper that."
Sobering, he looked at her. "How is he?" he asked, his voice serious. "I don't remember a lot, but what I do isn't good."
"It was touch and go for a while," she admitted. "He's in recovery now. The doctors got the bleeding stopped and barring any complications he should recover."
"Thank God," Seb swallowed, relaxing against the pillow. "It would have killed String to find him, only to lose him."
"Yeah," Caitlin agreed looking down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Where is Hawke?" he asked suddenly noticing the other's absence.
"I haven't been to see him yet."
"Oh," he answered. A scowl formed on his forehead as he assimilated her words. "What do you mean you haven't been to see him yet? Did he get hurt?"
"Shot," she replied succinctly. "You know him. He has a talent that way."
"He okay?"
"he got shot in the arm. They had to remove the bullet. They're patching him up now."
Satisfied, Seb relaxed. "Tell him I'm thinking 'bout him," he muttered, the words drowsy as he fought the painkillers.
"I will," she promised, placing a kiss on his cheek as she left the room.
Standing in the doorway, Caitlin watched her husband as he slept. Low slung pajama bottoms clung to a body that hadn't changed much in all their time together. The stomach was still firm, the chest well-muscled, the arms still the safest place she'd ever run to.
She gave a small smile that disappeared at the sight of the blue cast that enveloped his arm from knuckle to almost elbow. She hoped she was making the right choice on that. Keep praying, she reminded herself. It sure seemed to work with Roper. If not, she, Michael and Marella would be in for heck when he found out.
Gaze traveling upward, sapphire blue eyes met hers.
"Hey, you," she whispered walking across the room. "You been awake long?"
"Hey, yourself," he whispered back. "Not really." His voice was raspy from the anesthesia and she got him a glass of water. Shifting he took it from her, drinking greedily before handing it back.
Placing the glass on the table, Cait perched on the edge of the bed holding the fingers of his good hand in hers. The other hand feathered the fine brown strands out of his eyes. "Good to have you back."
"Good to be back," he replied with a half-grin. "How are Seb and Roper?" the tone was serious again, worried.
"Seb's okay. Said if Roper's gonna give him hangovers like this, he's going to have to throw better parties."
String gave a small laugh. "And Roper?" he asked, his dark blue eyes intent. "How's he?"
"He's in recovery. It looks like he'll be okay. It'll take awhile, but…"
Hawke nodded. Looking down he confessed, "I was scared. I thought for a while…"
"Me too," Caitlin sighed. "Me too."
They were both silent for a long moment.
"You think maybe…" he trailed off.
"What?"
"Well, I just thought for sure…and then it just turned around," he raised troubled blue eyes to hers.
"I don't know Hawke," she answered. "I just know I'm grateful. God's been to stubborn to let you die over the years, and I'm glad He evidently seems to feel that way about your son as well."
He squeezed her hand. "Me too," he whispered softly. "Me too."
Epilogue - 10 weeks later
The sun cast an orange glow over the lake as it set, the wind cool as it blew off the water. Sitting in silence, the younger man stared out at the lake, the shadows lengthening as Hawke played. Despite the growing darkness, Hawke's fingers found the notes with the familiarity of long practice. The occasional missed note still frustrated, but at least they were becoming fewer as the numbness that had plagued his arm had started to ebb. At last though, even he fell silent, his casted arm resting on his thigh.
"Are you angry at her?" Roper found himself asking, despite his promise to himself not to.
Startled, Hawke looked at him, his expression unreadable in the darkness. He didn't answer at first, and Roper had about decided he wasn't going to when the words came. "Yeah," the laugh was self-depreciating. "I guess I am. You?"
"Yeah, sometimes. I don't want to be, but…"
"But you are."
"Yeah," he sighed. "I know she had her reasons Hawke, and I know she and Sam loved me, but…here we are," he gestured broadly. "The old life isn't what I thought it was, and this," he said gesturing at the cabin and the lake, "Doesn't exactly fit either."
Hawke nodded, his sigh quiet in the night air. "I know what you mean." He paused, picking his words carefully. "But given time, you might find it fits you better than you think."
"Maybe," Roper allowed, his voice quiet.
Hawke tapped the bow against his shoe thoughtfully. "You know you could stay."
"And do what?" Roper asked miserably.
"Go to work for Michael, he could use another pilot on the Airwolf project. Doc Gifford is leaving when he marries Max next month."
"I'm still not a helicopter pilot, Hawke."
"Maybe not," Hawke answered, "but you are a damned good fighter pilot and you've got the potential to be as good a chopper pilot if you work at it. The choice is yours."
Roper sighed, mulling over his words. "You think there is much chance of me making the cut?"
"If you want it, yeah. Means you'll have to work hard for it, but from what I've seen so far, I think you could do it."
"Can't get rated for a helicopter license that fast." Roper rejoined dejectedly.
"Depends how bad you want it," Hawke retorted. "You're rated on planes and instruments, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"You're halfway there. Decide whether you want it or not. If you do, I'll help you."
The younger man was silent a long time. Finally he spoke, " How about you, Hawke? Do you want me to stay? I know this has got to be awkward between you and Cait."
"What's awkward between him and Cait?" a cheerful voice queried, stepping out of the darkness. Lithely Caitlin stepped down on the dock behind Hawke.
Mentally Roper groaned.
Hawke leaned his head back comfortably against the slender redhead. She gently twined her fingers with his, mindful of the cast.
"So," she said returning single-mindedly to Roper's question. What's awkward between Hawke and I?"
This time Roper groaned out loud.
Grinning, Hawke glanced up at his wife. "Roper's afraid him being here is awkward for us," he said blue eyes crinkling.
"String!" she admonished, whacking him on the shoulder. "Stop being such a tease and behave yourself!"
She stepped around Hawke, her hand on his shoulder. "It was awkward, is awkward," she admitted her tone serious. "But Hawke is your father and what happened between him and Nhi Huong was a lifetime ago. I may not like it, but I also understand it has nothing to do with me."
"And now?" he asked, searching her face.
"Now," she said weakly spreading her hands. "I'd like you to stay. It'd make Hawke happy and that'd make me happy. Besides," she said reaching her hand out to him, "you're family, and family sticks together."
"You're sure?" he asked taking her hand as he stood up.
"Positive," she guaranteed, reaching out to hug him. Setting the cello aside, Hawke came up behind her encircling his wife with one arm and his son with the other.