CHAPTER 9
What did he think he was doing?
"Hawke," Caitlin radioed, irritation at his foolishness unhidden from her voice. "Hawke, come in."
She received no reply.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "You haven't been checked over by a doctor. You don't even know you'll remember how to land it. You could loose your license!" Caitlin railed. "You've got to bring in that plane now."
Outside she could see the Stearman dip down out of sight and disappear beyond the tree line.
What on earth did he think he was doing? He couldn't just decide to fly off for no good reason, not in his current condition. What if he didn't remember everything? What if he didn't remember how to land? What if- she stopped herself before she could come up with any more ways this flight was going to end up ill-fated, before she could up with any more terrible, gruesome way she thought he was going to kill himself because he forgot to do something.
Stringfellow Hawke was a natural born flier, one with the air, a little irrational at times, but not crazy. Either he had something in mind or some kind of plan. She just had to trust it wasn't a plan that would end with a rough landing.
Wearily sitting down in the chair next to the desk, she looked up at the clock and tried to estimate about when he should be back but it was an unreasonable task. If the plane had a full tank of fuel, he might not be back for hours. Where would he go? She wondered. Maybe she could follow him there, possibly talk him through landing if he did remember and fly back herself, saving herself from some worry.
First, she had to get some transportation. Dom had the red, white, and blue chopper, his own pride and joy, and Saint John took the other, Hawke had the Stearman and that left her with…. nothing. Maybe someone down the strip would loan her something, just for a little while.
With that thought in mind, she pulled open the door and started to step through, but instead coming face to face with a square jawed man, piercing, cold, beady, little eyes staring at her as a menacing half grin crept across his lips.
"Going somewhere Mrs. Hawke?"
\A/
Bringing in the old plane fast, Hawke made his final approach toward the landing strip.
Suddenly freezing up, he didn't remember what to do next. Think, think, think! He forced himself to try to figuring it out, he had to do this, literally, he had no choice but to land at some time, one way or another. But it just wasn't there. It was like he'd never landed a plane before, didn't have the faintest clue what to do next. The ground was rushing up too fast; he'd never be able to do it, not without stuffing the nose into the ground first.
Pulling up hard, he managed to pull out just in time, the wheels of the landing gear momentarily making contact with the ground then lifting up again.
\A/
"Santini to Angel one," Michael's voice sounded over the radio.
"I read you , Michael," Saint John answered. "What's up?"
"Who is supposed to be at Santini Air right now?"
"Cait, String, and Chance I think. Why?"
"Nobody is there and the Stearman is gone, but no one locked up and the authorities thought it looked like there might've been a struggle."
"Where are they now?"
"I don't know; we haven't seen any of them yet."
"I'm still enroute from Sacramento, but I'll be there as soon as possible."
\A/
Coming around again, this time much slower, Hawke approached the runway, hoping he didn't make a terrible mess out of this because if he did, chances were high he wouldn't come out of it very well. What had he been thinking going up there alone? Stupid, stupid, he told himself over and over again. Just because he thought he remembered how to fly didn't mean he should go up alone the first time, especially when he didn't remember how to land.
Keep the nose up, pull back on the throttle, press down slowly on the pedals. He went through the motions mechanically, from practice rather than truly remembering everything, yet somehow knowing exactly what to do next. At last all three wheels made contact with the ground. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he taxied down the runway.
\A/
Chance crawled out from under the desk where he had hidden minutes before when some loud voice, more like a snarl, had sounded near the door and scared him away and out of sight.
"Mommy," he called. "Mommy?"
\A/
Piloting the Stearman back in front of the Santini Air hangar and cutting the engines, Hawke climbed out, thinking next time he went up in the plane he was definitely taking a co-pilot, and that was if he ever went back up in it.
"Mommy?" he heard Chance calling.
He couldn't exactly point his son straight to where Caitlin was since he himself didn't know but together they should be able to work out something.
"Chance, what did you need?"
"Daddy!" Chance cried, running up to him and hugging him tightly. "Mommy gone."
"We'll fin her," he promised, "don't worry. I'll find her and bring her back safe.'
He just didn't know how hard it would be to keep that promise.
"Santini, Angel one."
"Come on back," Hawke replied.
"Good to hear from you, Hawke. Where are the others?"
"They aren't here, but I'll take care of whatever it is."
Wish you could, Michael thought to himself.
The criminal that had set the library on fire, and nearly killed many people in the process were attempting to flee the country, but what could Hawke do to prevent them?
Even is he would make an exception to his no longer being involved in Airwolf missions, an agreement he probably neither remembered nor would in the long run stick to, he didn't even remember Airwolf, much less how to fly her.
"Michael, what is it?"
"There isn't anything you can do about it, Hawke. Let it go; I'll see about organizing a team to go after them."
"What is it?" Hawke demanded.
"Remember the explosion that put you and Le in the hospital when the library was bombed?'
"No, not really."
"Exactly my point."
"Just continue."
"The criminals responsible escaped police custody and are trying to flee the country with hostages and already have a head start. The only way we'd ever catch up is with a fighter jet or Airwolf and I don't have time to go threw the whole committee and Langley to get the jet."
"So you need me to fly Airwolf and take out these bad guys with out hurting the hostages if possible?" Hawke reasoned.
"You remember Airwolf?" Michael asked. He knew some of Hawke's memories had come back but nobody ever said they all had, or that they all would.