CHAPTER 15

He wasted no time with introductions and threw a full fisted blow. Marella blocked it, ducking the following equally strong one and moved to the side, taking down the much larger man before he knew what hit him and rendering him unconscious.

During the action, she failed to notice the crashing and banging from within the building had started again, followed by a yelp of pain as something hit the wall so hard she was surprised it didn't go straight through. Nearing the one room building once again, she could hear the murmuring of curses under his breath as she came around towards the door, then another solid blow against the wall followed immediately by the sound of splitting wood and an exhausted call of success. Only a second later it was followed by forceful shouldering against the door.

With persistence like that it had to be Hawke, she thought to herself with relief. "Hang on a minute and I'll get the door," she called out from the other side.

"Marella?"

Within moments, she had forced her way through the door and confirmed his suspensions.

"Marella," he said as she crossed the room and was by his side before he could as much as take a step, "never thought I'd be this glad to see you."

Still all business, Marella moved past the greetings and on with the mission at hand. "How badly are you hurt?" she inquired, scowling at the shattered fragments of what used to be a chair, "honestly because we could be walking a while. And where are the others?"

"I'll be okay, a little sore, but I'll live. Dom and Cait are still back in the states."

"But… Why are you over here then?"

"It's a long and complicated story."

"And I want to hear the whole thing," Marella returned.

"Maybe on the flight back. How long have I been gone?"

"A couple days."

"How long exactly?"

"Three and half days," she answered irritably. "Why does it matter now?"

"Come on, we gotta get back."

"Not so fast, Hawke," Quan warned, appearing in the doorway. "You aren't going anywhere, not this time. You thought you were going to get away again, didn't you? It's not that easy though. Your brother thought it was, he didn't believe me, and look where that got him. Last time you got lucky, but I assure you it won't happen again."

Your brother…. the words lingered, just out of reach. He's toying with your head, he told himself over and over again, but what if he wasn't? What if Saint John really was here, really was dead?

Saint John? How did he figure into this mess? Marella wondered. As if things weren't confusing enough already. He was the last thing she needed was him getting in the way of her task - rescuing Hawke, Dominic, and Caitlin.

"No," he said, although uncertainly threatened to seep into his voice. "No, I don't believe you. He…"

"How do you know? Have you seen him?" Quan taunted. "You just don't want to believe it because you could have done something to prevent it. He's dead, and I know every detail, even where he was buried, everything you want to pretend didn't happen. You aren't really looking for him, expecting a happy, hearty and healthy return; you, of all people, know that is too much to expect. All you're looking for is an excuse to say you tried and something to fill the emptiness. He's dead because of you."

"No. He isn't dead, he isn't dead." Without even having to think, he grabbed the gun from where it had been holstered at Marella's hip before she even had a chance to object and took Dao Van Quan down with a single shot to the head. "He isn't dead and I am going to find him," he rasped, with confidence and assurance he wished he had been as sure of as he sounded. "I will find him."

\A/

"I'll get it," Michael told Marleen, his assistant, as he walked in front of her desk back to his office. It was just a phone call and probably something any one of his "angels" could have easily taken care of, but he was hoping to hear from Marella, preferably with news that the whole team was uninjured and rescued, ready for pickup, but that was most likely only fantasy. Marella hadn't been gone long and had hardly anything to work with, but he still hoped.

He crossed the room with only a slight limp and picked up the phone.

"It's Marella with Hawke, we need transportation for us as soon as possible, same place I was dropped off. Neither of us have and serious injuries." The message was brief and to the point, patently Marella, but it served its purpose just the same.

"I'll send someone right away," he promised and hung up the receiver. "Marleen, get a plane ready for takeoff as soon as possible and schedule necessary refueling, picking up two people at the same runway as before."

"Yes sir, it should be ready in ten minutes."

"Good." Now the only question was that Marella had said her and Hawke - what happened to the others?

\A/

Sunlight and heat radiated in through the narrow openings in the concrete brick walled cell, a stiflingly uncomfortable hot room with out any easy way of escape. The door wasn't going anywhere and they had nothing to break through with, only leaving the bricks they had been vainly trying to file down earlier. After sunset it was pitch black and far too dark to see, much less work on escaping, and during the day the miserably warm heat combined with the fact neither one of them had had anything to eat or drink in three days made movement or even the thought of any kind or work a monument out task.

"Are we getting anywhere on that brick that we've been sawing though since we got here?" Dominic asked in a breathless pant.

"Not enough to tell," came Caitlin's dejected response. "Things aren't looking good for us to get out of here ever if we have to do it like this."

"Any better ideas? I'm open to suggestions. All suggestions."

"Not really." She changed the subject, trying to get her mind off the hunger, thirst, and boredom, and wishing she could change their surroundings just as easily. "How do you think Hawke is doing? Where do you think he even is?"

"If Quan what's his name has any sense, they would have left the country days ago. And knowing String, he's either managed to get himself free, gotten a whole mess of 'extra punishment' for not telling him what he wants, or gotten himself tortured to death for his glares and smart butt comments."

"Don't say it like that!"

"I didn't say I wanted that to happen, at least neither of the last two, but I'll lay bets at least one, if not more, of those things have already happened."

"I sure hope he got away. I mean, what are the odds that the guy trying to kidnap Nhu and Tommy would be Vietnamese? Not to mention the warlord where he was held prisoner over fifteen years ago?"

"I don't know, Cait. I sure never would've guessed it, but obviously it is possible. What bothers me the most is those stories about what he said he did to Saint John.

"When I String was coming back I was ecstatic, but about the same time I heard Saint John wouldn't be coming with him; he was shot down over enemy lines and listed MIA, many even presumed killed. That was the last thing I wanted to hear that my boy was most likely dead, but I also knew, well, thought I knew, how badly String would take the news, that it would take a whole lot of time and love to put the pieces that were left back together. It has gotten better, much better, but it's still a working progress that won't ever be complete unless Saint John does come home. The last thing he needs is me going bananas over every little thing that in some way might remind me of him. Yes, I hate that he's gone, but I have to accept it and move on. String can't though, and it's when Quan starts teasing him like that I get really worried."

\A/

The plane had arrived promptly, landing on the rough runway, picking up its passengers, and lifting off again before most of the locals even realized it was there. Now on their way back to the US, Marella and Hawke both sat in utter silence. Marella was the first to break it. "You doing alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" came the short reply, defenses already rising.

"Just asking. I know Vietnam can't bring back good memories, and you were being tortured for information. I though I'd make sure."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he was about to add more when he though better of it. It didn't matter anyway. What was done was done and there was nothing she could do to take away the damage that was already there.

"There's a small lavatory and first aid kit at the back of the plane if you want to clean up then," she continued without missing a beat. "It'd probably save you a few questions if you do it now rather than once we get back."

"Alright," he conceded. She was right, and they both knew it. Her way of handling the situation was very different from most people's though, in a good way. Shoving up to his feet, he made his way to the back of the plane and grabbed a damp towel and the first aid kit. And to his surprise, and relief, Marella managed to refrain from saying another single word about his injuries. He wasn't lucky enough to avoid all questioning however.

"Hawke, if you don't mind me asking, who was that man, your captor? You just seemed to have something against him, more than…"

"More than just because he was beating the crap out of me?"

She nodded, "if you put it that way."

Actually he did kind of mind her asking, but he'd put his foot in the door now and there was no turning back. "I assume you want more than he got on my bad side?"

"It would be nice."

"I don't know," he said, raking a hand through a tangle of messy brown fringe, "I guess I held a grudge. He was the warlord in Nam Ðàn where I was held prisoner for two months. Kind of had a special 'liking' for me, but I can't say it was mutual. Seeing him again, then… with everything he was saying about Sinj, I just lost it. Can't say I particularly regret this one though. If I'd had the guts to do it then, I would have gone back and given him what he deserved, saved myself as well as possibly Saint John some trouble…"

"Do you believe him?"

Hawke remained silent for a long moment, unsure of how to answer. Honestly, he didn't know. Quan's stories had meshed flawlessly with the few details he had been able to find out, but he didn't want to believe he was actually dead. Was it all denial? Only trying to make himself believe his brother was still alive and fill the emptiness in his own life? "I don't know, Marella, I just don't know."

An awkward silence fell between them for most of the remainder of the trip until one of the crewmembers told them that they would be landing soon.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go find Caitlin and Dominic then."