CHAPTER 8

Caitlin's hand resting easily on the stick, she directed them back up to the hangar. Chance was still half asleep in the back, as was his father, or maybe that was just his way of avoiding her.

Hawke, whether he realized it or not, was acting more and more like himself every day, at least as far as his medical attention was concerned. He had finally decided he had enough of the shrink, not that they'd hit it off very well from the beginning, and canceled his remaining weekly appointments. He had also similarly canceled his physiotherapy. Said he'd had enough, he was well enough to finish healing on his own, and more importantly without the doctors' help.

Yep, her old Stringfellow Hawke was definitely coming back, gradually as it may be. What worried her most was his lacking of interest in flying. Normally, that was one of the things he pushed hardest for, often against the doctors' wishes even, but he still hadn't said anything about it. Should she broach the subject herself? Or had he just had enough and wasn't interested anymore? No, that didn't make sense either. Supposedly his past memories were more easily accessible; he now remembered his parents' deaths, and his close call, maybe he just hadn't gotten to the flying parts yet. She should just be patient and wait, she told herself.

But being patient and waiting wasn't any fun, and she was liking it less and less as she went on.

Flaring the nose and landing the Jet Ranger on the tarmac right outside the Santini hangar, Caitlin cut the power to the engines and helped Chance out of the back as the rotors slowed overhead.

"Coming? She asked of her husband when he continued to idly sit in his seat.

"Yeah," he answered. "I was just thinking."

\A/

"Santini Air," Hawke greeted gruffly.

Dom had left earlier that morning in the other Jet Ranger for a high school reunion that Caitlin had insisted he go to, and Saint John currently had the red white and blue one somewhere enroute to Sacramento, so they were booked for the day but perhaps something later on would be available. Cait was off doing something in the back, but he could handle answering the phone on his own.

"How are you Hawke?"

The voice sounded so familiar, yet it was still far away. Why the hell wouldn't his mind stop playing these cruel tricks on him? He just wanted to remember these who these people were, what he was supposed to be dong with his life, and just to live like any other normal human being on the planet. Cait thought he had canceled his sessions with the psychiatrist because he was being stubborn, mule headed, and thought they were a waste of time, but really it was because they were a waste of time. Nothing had come back any better with him constantly asking the same questions over and over again. Things might've gone better if the famed psychiatrist could have gotten it through his thick skull that he had amnesia, not Alzheimer's.

"Fine I guess," he muttered in reply.

"Have you, by any chance, recently changed anything in your personal records where someone would have needed to get a hold o f your medical records?"

Suddenly he could place a face and name with the voice - he was that man in the hospital room all dressed in white… Michael he'd said, yeah Michael.

"No."

"You're positive?"

"Not since…." What was it exactly that had put him in the hospital in the first place? "At least not since I got out of the hospital. Why?"

"Your records have been brought up a lot recently. Things like who paid for your stay and who you were supposed to be staying with after being discharged, where you work, have all been very thoroughly investigated as of lately."

"What am I supposed to do about it?"

"I'll look into it some more," the spy promised, "but stay on your toes for trouble."

\A/

Sitting in a fold-up chair just outside the hangar, String looked over at the red Steersman resting in the hangar's shadow. He had hear the others talking about it the other day, needing a little work before the film shoot late next week. Other than that it and the jeep, the hangar looked pretty empty today with both choppers gone.

The copters - it made him wonder even more what past he might have had with them. His wife, brother, and surrogate father were all actively involved in this business, so it wasn't a far stretch to assume that he was too, but there was still a piece missing. Was he also a pilot? If so, would the flying skills eventually come back or would he have to relearn them all? Was he, perhaps, a mechanic? Was he any good at what he did? Obviously he couldn't be terrible if he still worked here, or did Dom just not have the heart to fire what had practically become his son?

Absently he walked towards the old bi-plane, running his hand down its sides and wings, something definitely familiar about it. What, he wasn't quite sure yet, but something was most definitely there. He slipped into the pilot's seat and settled in, not intending to actually start it, but just to get a feel for it, too see if it brought back any memories…

\A/

Caitlin set down the toddler and proceeded fixing lunch for all of them. Business had been slow all day, hardly a plane or helicopter leaving all day on this end of the airfield, and now seemed as good a time as any to work on lunch,

"Mommy - plane," Chance said, pointing out the door and past the roll top door.

"Yep, plane," Caitlin answered. Such an event wasn't unusual at an airfield, but maybe he had hear her earlier musings about where everybody might be.

"Wanna go," Chance told her.

Come to think of it, Chance had only been in helicopters. He did seem to posses the love of them though, maybe he'd like planes too. Now wasn't the time though, maybe once Hawke got better and the others returned.

"Wanna go," Chance repeated. "Go with Daddy."

Puzzled, Caitlin finally looked out the door in the general direction. Sure enough, the Steersman was taking off down the runway.