SERAPH

Part 8

By Linda Ryner

It was so terribly lonely where I stood.

The red rock plateau from which I gazed was windy topside. The sun was barely up, lightening the shadow-enshrouded valley. It looked strangely familiar to me, yet I couldn’t place where I was. I should have been warm, drenched with sweat from the morning orb of the desert sun and hot pre-summer breezes, but I wasn’t. The air was clean and dry and it was a pleasure to breathe in great lungfuls. Why was I here?

The scream of a hawk arrested my attention. I looked up at the plumed creature as it glided about, close to where I stood. It alighted at my feet with another screech. That’s when I realized that I was in a dream. Or something that was like a dream.

The hawk fluttered it’s wings, then took off again, gliding downward into the valley. Suddenly, I was following it on unseen wings, of my own volition. The winds were mine as I soared and played tag with the hawk. But there was a purpose to my journey. There was a destination to which I was being led. I knew that.

Gods, this place was uncannily familiar.

My feet touched sandy earth. I felt eerily alone and now my winged companion had even left me. I began to walk, one foot in front of the other, as if I had a purpose. As I rounded a bend of jutting rock, something made me abruptly stop.

The hulk of a beautiful black and white helicopter greeted my eyes. I was breathless. I was awed. It was a Bell 222B. With modifications.

It was Airwolf.

Carefully, I closed in, half-expecting the creature of man’s creation to turn at my intrusion. If she knew I was there, she gave no sign. Her rotors shifted a little in the wind. It was as if she stood in anticipation of discovery. As if she were girding herself up to begin maneuvers and waiting for her pilots.

No sooner had I thought that thought and three figures emerged from behind. They went right past me, in fact, through me, unconcerned, as if they had never been aware of my presence. Three pilots – all dressed in the grey-blue uniform I’d worn when training on Airwolf myself. I couldn’t discern two of them, but I imagined they were the ones who made the final cut. The other pilot was the unmistakable figure of Dr. Charles Henry Moffett. I watched as they climbed into Airwolf and could almost hear as they ticked off the checklist inside. And then, the great bird lifted herself gracefully from her patch of earth and with a whine, was gone from my sight. And then I knew.

This was Devil’s Anvil, California, a Firm testing facility. Our training ground for one of the greatest defense weapons ever made.

And I was not dreaming. I was not even lucid dreaming.

This was reality. And somehow, I was smack in the middle of it, even if I couldn’t be seen by those around me.

My mind immediately settled on Michael and I found myself transported in a micro-second to Ground Control. There was great bustle and activity, at least a hundred technicians at the various monitors lined in banks before a huge window that looked upon the desert and rocks outside. Closed-screen monitors were lined up in a semi-circle around them. People were calling out statistics and statuses, and Michael was standing with his back to me, engaged in conversation with a portly man whom I recognized as a senator, making some off-hand remark about pink cream cheese as he held half a bagel in his hand. I thought he might have represented one of the Eastern states, but I wasn’t sure. Marella began pointing out to him some things on video footage about Airwolf and I watched in fascination. This was the first time I’d had an out-of-body experience happen when I actually knew it was happening. And I could not imagine why it was happening now.

Even had I really physically been there, I knew Michael’s attention would be one-track, solely on the matter at hand. I knew Airwolf was his baby. He was so utterly proud of its development, as he should have been. I remembered well the lengthy nights he would put in on its various aspects with it’s developers, only to fall exhausted into bed for a few hours sleep afterwards. Airwolf was an obsession for him. He’d pulled me out of the program before it could get to be an obsession on my part. But even that short stint had affected me as no other assignment had. That helicopter had a way of marking you for life, one way or the other. Almost as if it were a living thing.

I watched the demonstration on the closed circuit sets, as excited as anyone there. I listened to Michael do his wheeling and dealing with the senator and when Airwolf finally came to hover in front of the big window in front after a remarkable demonstration, I was as proud as anyone else that had worked on the project.

It was during the exchange of words between Moffett and the senator that I became distinctly uneasy. I looked around and saw Michael’s look of consternation also, and a second before Moffett let the first missile rip, I saw the sudden look of revelation on Michael’s face as he whipped Marella out of the line of fire and covered her with his own body.

Stunned, all I could do was watch as Moffett let fly with just a little under half his payload into the Ground Control building. I stood inside the burning rubble as it came down about me. Had I really been there, I would have been dead. Black smoke bubbled up from everywhere accented with bright orange flames. Bare seconds later, I shifted my eyes and saw Michael’s sooty white suit a few feet in front of me, and that was all I saw because the smoke was so thick. Marella’s outline was closeby.

Then, I saw the malevolent helicopter outside the hole that was once a window, with Moffett and the other two pilots inside, and with a whine, it turned 90 degrees and lazily left it’s wake of destruction.

I screamed. It was a scream of rage, horror, anger . . .

And then I screamed again . . .

******************************

I lay awake in my bed that night, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. What I had awakened from could not be a dream. It had been too vivid. Too precise. Too damn scary. Wearily, I sat up in bed.

It had been over a year since I’d separated from Michael, had quit The Firm, secluding myself at my father’s remodeled cabin, in desperate search of some peace. I’d heard from no one from my former life. My only reminder of what once had been were my bi-monthly trips to Connecticut to see my son. I did get to see him walk his first unbalanced steps and utter his first word – Mama – which had been directed to Evelyn. But I smiled through the grief I felt, grateful to still be a part of this beautiful little boy’s life. I took tons of pictures, and always had a second set made for Michael if he chose to look at them, leaving them there with his sister. He returned the gesture in kind. Michael’s trips to see his son were as frequent as mine were, artfully woven around my predictable schedule of visitations.

He was all blonde hair, pink cheeks and stubby little legs, was Michael the IV. He was going to look like his dad, no matter what. I remembered what Michael had said about the Briggs’ genes being very strong. The one thing our son possessed from me was my eyes. They were blue – a stormy blue. And I loved looking into them.

With that thought, I lay back down in my lonely loft bed, staring out through the skylight. I hadn’t realized I fell back asleep until a shaft of sunlight woke me. It was nearly ten o’clock. I’d overslept. Usually, I was up with the first rays of sunrise.

I’d planned to take a trip into the north central part of the state for an Indian pow-wow held annually at the Mesquaki reservation in Tama county that would commence the next day. But now, I was having second thoughts. Something was pricking at me rather hard that I should stick around home for awhile.

So, after a lunch of scrambled eggs, coffee and a bagel, I headed out to Prairie du Chien for some shopping. After doing the necessary shopping, I found myself in the central village, browsing the specialty shops with the cafés, restaurants and bookstores interspersed between them. As I window-shopped idly, I came upon a small wine shop that sold a particular wine I favored – Luna de Luna – and had displayed in the window. I was about to go in when a movement arrested my attention and I stared into the reflection in the glass.

Michael was standing right in back of me. In those few seconds I could see the sooty white suit, the tousled hair and – gods above and below – a bloody socket where there should have been an eye! I gasped, whirling about, but there was no one there. When I turned back around to the reflective window, Michael’s form was fading fast, and then was gone.

My heart pounded in my chest and I leaned against the wall of the building for support. I could feel the color draining from my face, certain that I’d seen a ghost.

“Lady, you all right?” asked a wizened little old man from the entrance of the store. Probably the store owner.

“Yes, thank you,” I answered. “Just a little light-headed for a minute.”

“Why dontcha c’mon in and have a cup of coffee,” he invited suddenly. “It’s been quiet for me today – I could use the company.”

I was actually grateful for the invitation. I accepted it and sat down for the better part of an hour with the man, sharing coffee and conversation. About an hour later, I regretfully got up to leave, but not before purchasing two bottles of my favored wine.

When I arrived at the cabin, there was a light blinking on my answering machine and I replayed it back.

“Rachel, this is Evelyn,” came my son’s guardian’s voice, even but trembling. “Michael’s been in a horrible accident. He’s been badly, badly hurt. There’s some question as to whether or not he’ll even live. Lee and I are on our way to Galen’s Keep right now and we’re taking little Michael with us. Dad and Liz are coming, too. I hope you’ll come. Please, Rachel. Please come.” There was a click and I heard the beep at the end of the message.

It had been real. I was certain whatever “dream” I’d had earlier was what had happened. I wished I’d been here to take the message when Evelyn had called earlier.

There was no question as to what I would do. Automatically, I packed an overnight bag with the bare minimum of what I needed and headed over to the airport at Prairie Du Chien.

******************************

I was the last to arrive at Galen’s Keep. The guard at the entrance wasn’t even going to let me in, but after bullying him, he called up to the floor and talked with Gabrielle. She escorted me in herself, and as I stepped into the waiting area, I saw Michael Senior and Lee, Evelyn’s husband, sitting alone in thoughtful, low-pitched conversation. Michael Senior looked up and immediately stood at my entrance, wordlessly accepting my heartfelt hug.

“I am so very glad you decided to come,” he murmured, a bare catch to his voice.

“Of course I came,” I replied softly. “How could I not?”

He looked down at me and I thought I could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “My son is a fool to have let you go. Foolish, just like his old man.”

“I didn’t exactly give him a choice,” I told him. We sat down together. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Rachel!”

Evelyn and Elizabeth joined us. I stood and hugged them both, then stepped back. “Where’s my son?” I asked automatically.

“He’s with one of Michael’s operatives,” Gabrielle supplied. “You remember Livvy? She’s very good with kids.”

“Go in to see Michael,” Elizabeth prodded. “He needs to know you’re here, Rachel.”

“I’ll take you,” Gabrielle said again. “He’s in CCU.”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t seen him yet,” Evelyn told me, taking my hand. “Let him know you’re here.”

I nodded. “OK,” I almost croaked, hugging her again.

Gabrielle ushered me out of the waiting room and through the double doors leading down to the CCU.

“Before you go in there,” Gabrielle told me, “you need to know how bad it is.”

“I know how bad it is. Just let me see the medical chart. Did you catch Moffett?”

She gasped. “How did you know?”

“How did I know that Moffett blew up Red Star?” I asked, my fury starting to boil now that I’d had time to think about it. “It happened about 6:30 this morning, didn’t it?”

“Oh, my God. Rachel.” Gabrielle was so stunned she stopped walking to face me. “You have to tell me. How did you know?!”

“If I told you, you’d think I was crazy and slap me in the Psyche Ward.”

“Tell me, damn it! This is classified stuff! How’d you find out?!”

“I dreamed it.”

She looked at me oddly. “Are you gonna say it was some voodoo mumbo-jumbo . . .”

“No. I am telling you I dreamed it.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“Well I sure as hell wasn’t at the site! Not physically anyway! And I have a witness that can put me in Iowa at 2:00 in the fucking afternoon!” I exploded.

A dream?”

“Dream, vision, whatever you want to call it! I saw Michael and Red Star get blown up by Moffett and two other pilots – don’t ask me who, I have no idea – using half the armaments on Airwolf! I thought I was crazy. I came home, listened to Evelyn’s message and came straight here. Now answer my goddamn question! Did you find Moffett?”

She shook her head, still clearly in shock. “No. We’re searching high and low.”

“What about Marella?” I asked suddenly.

“She’s in ICU – Michael took the brunt of the explosion, trying to get her out of the way. She’s banged up pretty good, but she’s alive. Concussed – unconscious. We’re hoping she’ll come around pretty soon.”

“So you’re in charge of The Firm now,” I concluded as we started walking again.

“Yeah, and it was a bitch to get The Committee to see the sense of it,” she said ruefully. “It’s a good thing we have Admiral Clayton on our side. We have three months to get things straightened up and hopefully Michael back in the saddle.”

“That’s not enough time. Michael could lose his position if he’s not at optimum.”

“It’s what we’ve got to work with. We don’t have a choice. And we have to keep the lid on this thing.”

“Let me come back aboard. On a temporary basis until this gets straightened out.” My voice was solid as a rock. “Between the two of us, we might be able to do it.”

“Thought you quit for good.” Gabrielle’s eyebrow rose.

“Yeah, well. I’m a woman. Entitled to change my mind, right? And I’m not promising a permanent thing. Do you think the Committee will give me the clearance I need?”

If Admiral Clayton and I bully them enough,” Gabrielle acknowledged.

Finally, we stopped in front of a glassed-in room. The man I saw lying in the hospital bed was almost unrecognizable. I thought I’d been prepared – but I wasn’t. Michael didn’t look anything like Michael hooked up to all the machines and tubes around his bed.

“Oh, God,” I gasped. “Is he conscious?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “Not yet.” She gestured. “Go ahead. I’ll have someone get you when I get The Committee to see things my way. Where are you staying?"

“I can stay at the penthouse if you can express me a passcard,” I answered numbly.

“I’ll do it now. You’ll have it in twelve hours.”

“I’m not leaving here until he comes to,” I said adamantly.

It was abnormally quiet except for the beats and the whish of the machines. I walked in quietly, my tennis shoes sliding on the tile floor. My eyes never left the florid face that lay against the pillows as I walked around the bed to take a chair on the other side.

I sat on the chair’s edge, my hands clasped between my knees. My jaw flexed several times.

“I’m here, Michael.” My voice was quiet, but strong. I absolutely could not let there be any weakness in my tone. “I’m here. I’m staying. I still love you. I always have. I always will. Michael Rowan is here, too. He misses his daddy. He loves you, too.”

I don’t know how long I sat there and carried on a one-sided conversation. I had a captive audience. Quite frankly, I didn’t know what else to do. I told him about my visits to see our son. I told him what I’d been up to over the last year. I reminded him of some funny things and some more serious things that happened when we were together. But I always spoke with a warmth. I told Michael what outfits I’d bought for little Michael and how quickly he outgrew them in just a few weeks. I told him about my return trip to New Orleans and the Mardi Gras celebration I’d spent with Marissa. And when that was done, I told him about my life growing up. I tried to remember it all. I didn’t know if Michael would remember any of it, but something made me keep talking.

I must have been nodding off in a chair when Evelyn came in a few hours later. She knelt at my side.

“How’re you doing?” she asked softly. “The nurses said you’ve been talking non-stop for several hours.”

I smiled wanly. “Guess I have. I’m almost hoarse.”

“Tell you what, let me spell you off a bit. Get a little rest.”

“Talk to him,” I told her. “About anything. Remind him of the fun times you had together. Anything. Just talk to him.”

She nodded. “OK. I will.”

I relinquished my chair and made my way unsteadily out of the room. I hadn’t realized how tired I was. Then suddenly, I perked up. Marella. She was here, too. I wondered if anyone had been to see her.

Her room was darkened and she was hooked up to about as many machines as Michael was. I flashed my temporary ID Gabrielle had given me and went inside. There were several other girls from Michael’s department who were there. Lillian was one of them. She looked up at my entrance and gasped in surprise, then rose to give me a hug.

“When did you get here?” she asked, leaning back.

“Several hours ago. I’ve been with Michael.”

She caught her lower lip with her teeth. “None of us are allowed in his room. How’s he doing?”

“He’s hooked up to a million machines that are keeping him alive,” I replied, quietly. “Don’t say anything to anyone, Lillian – let’s step outside a minute.”

We went out to the hallway and she grasped my hand before I could turn around. “Tell me, Rach – how’s he doing? Really?”

“Really?” I gritted my teeth. “Not good. They’re giving him a 35% chance of making it at all and if he does . . .” I paused, dreading to say it.

“What?” she pressed, genuinely distressed.

“If he does live, he’s could likely lose his leg unless the major surgery they’re planning takes. He’s already lost one eye to this.”

She leaned against me for support. As I heard her sobs echo down the quiet hallway, I thought about how much I wanted to cry, too. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.

Gabrielle, the girls and I had a department to piece back together in Michael’s absence. We could not afford to think our boss wasn’t going to make it even though his chances didn’t look good.

By nine the next morning I had my passcard to Michael’s penthouse and a permanent ID card, along with reinstatement papers with my job. I slipped in to see Michael one last time and said my temporary goodbyes to his family before calling for a Company chopper to take me to the penthouse suite. I spent part of the afternoon stocking up on a couple of working outfits and some casual clothes and then reported to Knightsbridge downtown.

Gabrielle met me at Michael’s office door and we looked at each other.

“You ready to start the battle?” she asked me.

I nodded affirmatively and with conviction. “Let’s do it.”

******************************

The next days were a flurry of activity. We had culled from Michael’s extensive department a select few who could be counted on for absolute loyalty and secrecy and set them to work compiling reports, file clippings, bios, obituaries, anything that had to do with Airwolf. We also set up a world-wide intelligence watch for anything that might have remotely to do with Airwolf’s possible location. We especially kept a trained eye on the Middle East.

And then there were the day-to-day operations to worry about. Assignments still had to be doled out, personnel chosen for certain missions, covert operations to be monitored and etc. We knew The Committee was keeping a careful eye on everything we did and we knew that at no time could we afford to screw up.

We didn’t. Michael’s Department ran like a well-oiled machine. Not without it’s glitches, however, and Gabrielle and I were heard to say more than once that we needed Michael back in the saddle again, that even though it was running, it would never run as well as when Michael was in charge. This was picked up by the other employees and heard all the way to the top. No way were we going to let the Brass think that Michael was expendable. He wasn’t. The simple truth was, The Firm would be only a shadow without him.

During this time, rooms for Michael’s family had been made available at the Bonaventure, so I was able to spend time with my son that I wouldn’t have if they’d gone back to Connecticut. And I went back to Galen’s Keep as often as I could in between times to monitor Michael’s and Marella’s progress. It was a bone-wearying experience that I never wanted to repeat. Michael came out of his coma about ten days after being admitted and his recuperative powers were a marvel to behold. As soon as he was able, he was rehabbing and trying to run the Firm from his hospital bed – and actually succeeding at it.

Then came that inevitable day when I was to have my first conversation with Michael in over a year. I was in Evelyn and Lee’s hotel suite playing with Michael Junior when Michael the Third arrived unannounced. Evelyn almost bowled him over with a hug but was careful. I looked into the face of the man who was the father of my son and thought how this one year – and this past set of horrendous events – had aged him. Damned if it wasn’t a big fat miracle that Michael was alive, but fighting from the brink of death had cost him dearly.

Up until now I hadn’t spoken with Michael. I’d been with him as he lay comatose but when word came that he was conscious, I tended to let the Airwolf project take up my time and attention. Anything so I wouldn’t have to have interaction with him. Because I was scared and uneasy. We’d parted on terrible terms. And now here he was, standing in the middle of his sister’s hotel suite, staring down at me and Michael Junior, playing with his blocks and puzzles. His eyes – eye, I reminded myself – softened as he looked down at his son.

I stood and picked up Michael Junior, who immediately reached out to his daddy. I smiled at that. Most kids would have howled at the eyepatch. Michael Junior was almost demanding to have his father hold him.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Michael?” I invited, motioning to a comfortable chair. “I think little Michael wants to sit with daddy.”

As much pain as he must have been in, Michael puffed with not a little pride as he settled comfortably in a chair – not without wincing – and straddled Michael Junior on his good leg, letting him play with the head of his silver wolf’s head cane. Evelyn snapped some pictures of that and even though Michael grimaced, I could tell he was enjoying it. Of course she absolutely insisted on a picture of the three of us together. Michael and looked at each other, a bit uncomfortable, but we took the picture – more than one, and Evelyn promised us both prints. After awhile, Michael Junior was sleepy, so Evelyn told us she’d put him to bed.

“Have you eaten yet?” Michael questioned me in low tones.

I shook my head. “No. You?”

“No. Why don’t we avail ourselves to that little French restaurant down the street?” he suggested.

My stomach was doing flip-flops. I was apprehensive because of a lot of reasons. I hadn’t seen Michael in over a year or talked to him. He’d just come out of a horrible incident and I knew he wasn’t totally himself. I could tell by just being in his presence that he wasn’t the same man. In fact, I wasn’t sure just what kind of man this had made him. I still loved him with all my heart and even if he didn’t want to acknowledge that, he knew it was true. We were linked together a long time ago. Michael Junior was also a link – a very strong one – and bound us together very tightly.

“I’d like that, Michael.”

I fought the impulse to help him up from the chair and he held out his arm to me with great decorum. I took it and as we went down the elevator, I glanced over him. His face was lined in obvious discomfort.

“Do you want to drive over?” I asked him gently.

He shook his head. “We can walk – as long as you don’t rush me. It’s good for me to walk.”

Within fifteen minutes, we were seated at a corner booth, cozy, with dim lighting. We sipped on champagne for awhile before he spoke again.

“I wanted to thank you for coming aboard again to help us keep things together,” he finally said. “Gabrielle probably could have done it by herself, but having you there took half the load from her shoulders and I’m grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied softly. “I owed you that much, Michael. You’ve been very good to me.”

“You owed me nothing. I’m surprised to even see you here.”

“I know our dealings in the recent past haven’t exactly been smooth, but why would you think I wouldn’t be here for you if you needed me?” I asked, frowning.

“Well, our parting was rather decisive.” He couldn’t look at me.

“It doesn’t erase the fact that I love you, Michael. Or that I would do anything I could to help you in a crisis.”

“I love you, too. That’s never changed.” I thought of his promise those years back. “But I am surprised to hear you say so. When you left the cabin that night . . .” He broke off. “We surprised each other with our revelations then. I’ve forgiven you. Can you ever forgive me and what I did to your life?”

“Michael, we’re both so good at blaming ourselves for what’s happened. Yes, I’ve forgiven you. A long time ago. And I think I’m over it. But it’s not something I’ll forget. You either, I don’t suppose, for what I almost did. So let’s just call it what it is – a major big screw-up – and leave it at that. Wherever the winds blow us – into whatever kind of relationship – no pressure, OK? We have a child together. We have a friendship . . . or at least I hope we do. It’s going to take some time to get back to that level of trust we had. All we can do is take it one step at a time, one day at a time.”

“It makes me happy to hear you say that.” He sighed heavily and his hand slid over mine. “If you can handle having a broken-down, crippled, half-blind man in your life.”

I took his hand in both of mine and kissed it. “You aren’t broken-down. You’re not crippled, either, I’ve seen you flying around on that leg of yours. And as for blind – I hear you’ve compensated for that quite nicely. Besides, the eyepatch makes you look quite dashing.”

That got a smile out of him. “Yeah? You think?”

“The mystique – it’s exciting. If we weren’t in public, I’d jump you.”

The smile broadened. “Really.”

“Yes, really,” I murmured with a small smile. “The cane and the eyepatch only add to your sexy image and magnetism. Trust me.”

“One might think, Ms. Sands, that you were making a pass at me.”

“One might think that, mightn’t one?”

“Being alone for a year makes you pretty horny.”

The statement was blunt and I found a rather loud and genuine laugh coming out of my mouth. He chuckled with me and the ice, I realized, was broken.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know about that. I don’t imagine it took long for you to find someone else,” he continued.

Now that statement put a damper on things. I suddenly fell quiet, studying my champagne glass with avid interest. “Michael, what makes you think the first thing on my mind was to find someone else? That wasn’t what the separation was about.”

“You’re really not with someone else?” He looked up guardedly.

“We lived together almost five, six years, and you can ask me that? You know me too well. So you must know that wasn’t even an option for me at the time.”

He shrugged. “Call it insecurity, I guess. I guess I gave you cause to think I didn’t want you back.”

“I didn’t know if you did or not. I was just hoping that one day, we could come to terms with our actions and with ourselves and forgive each other.”

“I never want to fight with you like that again.” His voice was very low. Then he looked up at me, gaze locking to mine for more than a few moments. The brilliance in his remaining eye was still there. “Your name’s still on the deed of the beach house. Move back in.”

I contemplated the offer. “Why?”

“Because I’ve given your condo to another operative.”

"Why else?”

“Because I want to use it for the same purposes we did before. It’s ours, when we want to get away. Only you’ll be there most of the time, unless you’d rather stay at the penthouse.”

“I have to close up shop in Iowa first. Is that OK with you?”

“How long?”

“A week, maybe ten days.”

He suddenly shook his head. “No. I’m not going to take the chance on you leaving again. The Firm branch in Des Moines can take care of packing you up.”

I was quiet for a long time. “All right. That’s doable, I guess.” I couldn’t blame him for his refusal to let me go. The last couple of times I hadn’t come back.

He seemed a bit surprised I gave in, then his face closed down. “I left your clothes and personal things in the beach house. Is there anything from Iowa you need to have brought here?”

“Just a locked diary I keep in my nightstand,” I said, fingering the diary key I had taken to wearing around my neck along with Mama Marie’s mojo bag. “That’s the only thing I want brought back. Everything else can be put into storage. Any food left can be taken to the Mesquaki reservation.”

He nodded. “I’ll see to it.” He looked at me studiously, then reached out a hand. “Look at you. Still uncommonly beautiful. I can’t believe you still love an old warhorse like me.” He swallowed. “After what I did to you . . .”

“Stop it. We’re not going there anymore,” I shushed him firmly. “But I would be less than honest if I told you I wasn’t afraid of picking up where we left off.” I slid closer to him, placing his hand over my heart. “Can you feel that? How fast my heart is beating?”

“Yes,” he half-whispered. I could feel the fire in his touch and he slipped it down to hold my breast. “I want to kiss you.”

He didn’t wait for me to say yes or no, he simply did it. A gigantic shiver went all through me when his mouth plundered mine. I answered his demands with like fire and after a few delicious moments, he pulled his mouth away from mine and looked into my eyes. I knew what he wanted. The same thing I did.

I stroked his cheek, my gaze locking to his steadily. “We have some serious negotiations to begin, Michael,” I told him in a low voice – lower than was my normal low tone.

His frown was slight. “But I assumed you waded through all that with Gabrielle when you came back aboard,” Michael told me.

“No. I volunteered temporary services until you were able to get back behind the wheel. I never said I’d be a permanent employee.” I leaned back in my chair and our meal came. There were a few moments of distinct silence, and then the waiter left.

“What exactly is it that you want, Rachel?” he finally queried. He made a stab at a morel mushroom on his plate. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

I breathed in deeply. “I want our son. I want you.” I lifted my gaze to his. “But it can’t happen all at once. We’re both still wounded. And you . . . you’re . . .” I hesitated only a moment. “You can’t tell me you’re the same man, Michael. No one could go through what you did and be the same person.”

“How very right you are.” His voice was gentle and soft. “And you’ve changed, too, Rachel.”

“Your sharp perception hasn’t changed one iota,” I confirmed.

“Have you ever regretted any of your life as an operative?”

I shook my head. “No. Because those experiences placed me where I am now. I’m starting to feel in control now. I don’t feel like a puppet with strings.”

“You felt like that when you were working for me?”

“Sometimes. I took orders from you all the time.”

“Yeah, but in your assignments, you were often calling the shots.”

“That’s true. But it still felt like being a marionette.”

We ate in silence for awhile. Finally, Michael sat back after taking a sip of champagne. “So you’ve come back here presumably to stay. You want me and our son, but you don’t want a commitment right away. So . . . what’s our status? Are we living together? Are we living together with our son? Are we dating? Are we courting?”

“We’re starting over. Completely over.”

“You want me to wine and dine you and be the romantic?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Why? You thought this was going to be like an old shoe – something you could get immediately comfortable with again?”

“I guess I did. And you’ve just shown me how much I was taking you for granted again.” He smiled secretly as he ate his veal. “All right. I’ll go a step further. I’m giving you the beach house. It’s yours. I’ll be at the penthouse or my ranch. I’ll even call before I come over or make a date. I’ll give you all the keys to the place. Does that suit you?”

“You sure sound like a negotiator.” I knew there was some amusement in my tone.

“I want you in my life, Rachel. I’ll do anything it takes to keep you there.”

I placed my fork on my plate quietly, then looked up at his face once more. “I take it, then, that you really do still love me.”

His hand reached out to take mine, and I was reminded of his intensity by the pressure. “Insanely.” He brought my hand to his lips, placing a warm kiss on my knuckles. “So much I could make mad, passionate love to you right here. Right now.”

“On a first date? Do you think I’m that easy?” It was meant to tease him, but the look on his face told me he thought I was serious. “Let’s at least wait until we get back to the beach house,” I suggested with a smile.

On the ride to the beach house, we just sat together quietly, stealing a kiss here and there. By the time we reached it, both of us were aroused beyond normal boundaries. No sooner had I opened the door and stepped inside when Michael slammed it shut and locked it, then swept me into his arms, paralyzing me with a hard kiss blazing with hunger. I held nothing back from him, my own passion evident. When my hand slid downward to rub his groin, he moaned loudly into my mouth. I smiled into the kiss, finding the tip of his manhood and rubbing a bit more vigorously.

“You’re going to make me come right here,” he breathed in my ear. “I’d rather come inside you.”

Slowly, I moved away from him, almost breathless. “You will,” I promised, dropping my purse.

His hand gripped mine purposefully and he pulled me into the familiar, darkened master bedroom. Gauging his actions, I soon understood that he wanted to feel in control of the situation and I let him. Michael tossed his jacket in a chair, then went over to one of the endtables, opening a drawer and taking out a box of matches, lighting the pillar candle on the table top. Soon the room smelled of jasmine. He did the same with the other candle on the opposite side of the bed and a heady scent of musk permeated the air and mixed with the jasmine. By the time he was replacing the matches back in the endtable, I had my clothes off, standing nude in the soft lighting. He turned and his intake of breath was obvious.

“A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about how beautiful you are,” he said, voice filled with warmth and tinged with passion. He came over to pull me into his still-clothed body. “I can’t help but wonder why you would even want me now.”

“All of a sudden, you’re so insecure,” I told him. “Why shouldn’t I want you now?”

“I’m a physical wreck, Rachel.” He sighed heavily, suddenly turning away. “My leg, my eye . . . the shrap I caught in various areas of my body. When you touch me, you’ll be encountering a lot more scars and . . .”

“Michael, I’ve seen you. I spent hours at Galen’s Keep. There’s not one part of your body that I don’t know. And there is nothing that I could experience with you that would repulse me.”

“Then you’ve seen . . .”

“Your leg. Yes. I’ve seen the incision sites, I’ve seen the muscle and tissue loss. I also know how hard you’ve been going at physical therapy, and that the doctors’ reports are good. You’ll build up the muscle again. There’s a big difference already.” I came up to him, slipping my arms about his waist and pressing into his back. “As for love-making . . . I think we can find some comfortable positions that won’t cause you any pain. If it starts to hurt, just tell me. We’ll adjust.”

He turned in the circle of my arms, stroking my hair, eyes unreadable in the dimness. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Like you say. Being alone for a year makes you pretty horny.” I smiled teasingly.

His light laugh softened his features. “Ms. Sands, you always manage to make me smile, no matter how aroused you make me.”

I helped him disrobe and then we were running our hands over each other’s bodies, exploring the flesh and luxuriating in rediscovery. Michael whispered softly in my ear, telling me in great detail exactly what he was going to do with me and I felt the sweat drip off my body in anticipation. Somehow he maneuvered me onto the bed, half-covering me with his body. We kissed and caressed for the longest time. Michael was no slouch when it came to foreplay. But for some reason, on this particular night, he was extremely intent upon it. Moreso than usual. Whether because of our separation, the near-loss of his life . . . I didn’t know the reason or reasons and it didn’t matter. I answered back his kisses and caresses with my own, watching his face carefully, trying to make myself aware of what pained him and what didn’t. I could see the wince, twinge or grimace that he tried to hide and proceeded to accommodate for his comfort.

I sensed when he was ready to culminate the passion in the ultimate act, so I gently rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist, looking down at him with my chest heaving. His hands tangled in my hair as I enfolded him within me, starting a slow, aching rhythm.

I wasn’t ready for his passion – it didn’t scare me, but it was raw and it was rough. It spread and lit my own passion and it transformed into almost a tribal dance. His hands slid over my sweat-slick skin then grabbed my hips, controlling the manic rhythm. He wanted it slowed down, but his thrusting never ceased or lessened in intensity. He looked up into my face, expression as close to ecstasy as I had ever seen it.

His cry surrounded me with sound and then I, too, leapt over the summit to join him in the misty afterglow. A long time later, his warm breath could be felt on my forehead as we lay entwined.

“How is it that making love with you is always so spectacular?” I asked, meaning it, my voice containing some awe.

It was a few seconds before he answered, chest heaving. Then, he laughed. “I’ve gotten the techniques down pretty well, love.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean – when I’m with you like this, I feel so utterly protected. So deeply a part of you.”

“You are, Rachel. Very much a part of me.”

“You’re very much a part of me, too.”

“I’m hearing a ‘but’ in there,” Michael said gravely. “What is it, love?”

I was quiet for a long moment. “Michael – you tell me all of it. Any secrets that could hinder this relationship. You know all mine. I want yours. All of them. If I’m going to eventually become your wife – or even remain your long-term relationship – you have to tell me.”

He told me everything. Everything that he thought affected the two of us. We talked until the light was starting to creep in at daybreak. And then he slept and I began to make plans for our future. For the past years, the relationship had been under Michael’s direction.

This time, he was letting me have my turn, and I intended to use it to my advantage. I would accept his offer of the beach house as my solitary abode. I would relish the terms of courtship he suggested.

I would not, however, rejoin the Firm anytime soon. I couldn’t. It had taken too much from me emotionally. I was living off the interest of some accounts, I had no worry about money. I had a place to live. I could pretty much do whatever the hell I wanted whenever the hell I wanted. With whoever the hell I wanted.

My mind slipped back to a certain rather cocky pilot. As soon as I got organized with the moving and stuff – maybe a couple of months tops – I would renew an old friendship.

That sounded so good, right then. //Yes,// I thought to myself. //I think I should look up Stringfellow Hawke. Could be fun.//

Smiling contentedly, I fell asleep in the arms of the man I loved.

******************************

By the time three months had passed, the beach house was really mine and I was doing a bit of redecorating. I went on shopping sprees to San Francisco and Rodeo Drive, I attended auctions, went to the museums and afternoon teas with friends of Michael’s, played tennis with celebrities and hosted charity luncheons and benefits. Michael and I dated and slept together regularly.

Then I remembered the promise I made of renewing my old friendship with Hawke. I drove to Santini’s Airfield in Van Nuys only to find that neither Santini or Hawke were there. It seemed strange that neither of them would be there, but I shrugged it off. Then I drove to Firm Headquarters early that evening to pop in on Michael.

I felt it the moment I stepped onto Michael’s floor. There was tension within every person I walked by – even more than tension, there was something else I couldn’t define. My mind flew back, trying to remember when it had felt like this before, or if it had, and I could only recall one time. It was when Melissa had been thought to be dead. An operative had died.

I met Marella in the hallway, saw her tear-streaked eyes. She stopped me, gripping my hands in hers.

“Rachel, thank God. You’re timing is marvelous.”

I looked around me. “Marella, what’s the deal here?”

“C’mon, I need to talk with you privately.” She pulled me into an empty conference room and locked the door. When she turned to face me after turning the lights on, she indicated a chair. “You better sit down.”

Marella looked a damn sight better than a few weeks ago, I thought. The patch was off her eye – she’d gotten flashburn from the Red Star disaster, I’d heard. It was good to know that she was recovering from that and the rather severe concussion she’d received. She still looked a little wan, but overall, her recovery had been quick.

“What is it?” I queried, refusing her request. “What’s wrong? I felt it almost the minute I stepped off the elevator.”

“There’s no way to put this delicately. Rachel . . . Gabrielle’s dead.”

Her words hit me like a thunderbolt. “What?” My voice was a bare whisper.

“I know – I couldn’t believe it either.” Marella dropped her head, I’m sure to hide tears. “If I’d been in better shape, the assignment would have been mine, but . . .”

“What assignment?”

“I keep forgetting you don’t work here anymore,” she murmured. “All I can tell you, Rachel, is that Gabrielle was on assignment and she died. Rather, she was murdered.”

I felt my throat tighten. It was a long moment before I spoke. “And Michael is taking it how?”

“Not well. He blames himself.”

“He knows better. Gabrielle knew the risks.” But that didn’t make things any easier.

“I know. But that fact doesn’t make Michael see it any differently at the moment.”

I looked up at her. “You and Gabrielle were like sisters. How are you holding up?”

“I wish I could say fine. We both know it’s a lie.” She swallowed. “I just wanted you to know before you went in there to him.”

“I appreciate you clueing me in,” I answered. I brushed away the beginnings of tears in my own eyes. I’d lost a sister, too. Despite Gabrielle being my best friend here, I was not as close to her as Marella had been and once even had cause to hate her. But her death affected me severely. It was a blow. “I know this is a bit early, and I hope my question isn’t offensive, but have arrangements been made?”

“Not yet. There’s a bit of a problem getting the body back.”

I gasped, then turned away, covering my mouth with my hands. “Jesus. They had to LEAVE her?”

“There wasn’t much of a choice. It’s a long story, and I don’t know if I should be the one telling you. I’m sorry, Rach – but you’re civilian. There’s just some things I can’t tell you.”

Thoughts flitted through my mind, and I finally turned to face her. “Just tell me one thing, Marella – yes or no. Did it have to do with Moffett and Airwolf?” Her hesitancy was all I needed for an answer. “Shit!” I swore, my hands turning into fists. “It’s not enough he killed everybody at Red Star and almost killed you and Michael in the bargain! Now Gabrielle’s dead because of that piece of . . .”

“Rachel, it’s no good ranting about it. We’re doing all we can . . .”

“Tell me,” I hissed, “did they get their precious helicopter back?”

“Don’t even mention Airwolf to Michael. He can’t take much more.”

I calmed. “All right. I’m going to go in there and be calm. Think there’s going to be any pieces to pick up?”

“You’d know that better than I would,” Marella reminded me softly. “Try to get him to go home to his ranch and rest. And for pete’s sake, make him eat something.”

I nodded and followed her out of the conference room.

Lillian, who was working late, looked up as I passed by her desk. We locked gazes for a moment, then I went onto Michael’s office around the cubed glass partition. The blinds were drawn – an indicator that Michael did not want to be disturbed. I breached the well-known indicator and the door gave way under my hands. Quietly I entered the quickly-darkening room as the shadows lengthened. Michael’s chair was empty, so my next inclination was to turn my head to the right where the plush sofa was.

Michael was on it, lying down on his side. I couldn’t see if he was awake or asleep. When I moved closer, I noted his glasses were off and he was lying with his arm flung over his eyes. With little to no noise, I settled on the floor near him and pillowed my head on my arm, dozing.

I awoke to a hand going through my hair and I awoke, looking into Michael’s now-bespectacled gaze. We stared at each other for a few long moments. Then, Michael’s voice cut the silence.

“You heard?”

I nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Let me take you to the ranch, Michael. You’ve got to rest for awhile. And you need to eat. And take care of yourself.”

“I hear Marella in your words,” he said drily, swinging his legs over to sit.

“Maybe so, but it’s true. So get your stuff. I’m driving you out.” Surprisingly, he didn’t protest. When we walked out of his office, he took my hand in his, nodding to Lillian as we went by.

“Get outta here,” he told her gruffly. “You’ve earned your pay today. I don’t want to see you here ‘til day after tomorrow. Have Gretchen take over for you tomorrow.”

“I’m fine, Michael,” she replied quietly.

“Did I fail to make it clear that I wasn’t asking? That’s an order, Lil,” Michael emphasized with a scowl.

When we arrived at the ranch, it was going on nine o’clock and the moon was shining down, her sliver of silver brightening the darkness a little. Michael unlocked the door to let us in and turned on the lights, adjusting the dimmer-switch accordingly.

“You get comfortable and I’ll get you a beer,” I instructed in my most no-nonsense voice. “And then I’m going to make you a deli sandwich, and you’re going to eat it,” I half-ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, but I knew that he liked being fussed over, so I let it slide.

Ten minutes later, I was watching as he feasted on my deli masterpiece with bites of a whole dill pickle in between. He insisted on turning on the news, and I went back to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. When I returned, he was resting comfortably, lying back on the sofa and Magnum P.I. was starting. I munched silently, watching Michael out of the corner of my eye as he pretended to watch. Finally, I picked up the remote and turned it off, placing my half-eaten sandwich on the coffeetable.

“Go to bed, Michael,” I told him firmly, yet gently. “You need to let your brain breathe for awhile.”

“Will you come with me?” The question was almost plaintive.

I didn’t answer right away. “If that’s what you want.”

“I insist.”

We readied for bed after locking up. We slipped into each other’s arms and he kissed my hair repeatedly. “You want to know what happened,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Only if it helps you get it off your chest,” I replied. “I don’t work for The Firm anymore, Michael. I understand if you can’t talk to me about things. Goes with the territory.”

“I want to talk about it.” He paused, drawing me tighter to him. “I need to talk about it.”

“Then tell me.”

He told me about how they had pinpointed Moffett in Libya and had contacted Stringfellow Hawke to undertake a mission to get Airwolf back. Gabrielle had been the one to brief him and in the few days they were together, they’d fallen in love. Then Gabrielle had been called away suddenly to take over for another operative, Angela, who had been murdered by Moffett earlier. Gabrielle was to be Hawke’s contact when he came to Libya for the helicopter. She managed to get him the information he needed to hijack Airwolf but after he had left, she had been taken prisoner and left to Moffett’s sickening devices.

“Hawke said she didn’t suffer,” Michael said hollowly. “I know he lied to spare me any more pain.” I heard him swallow heavily, and I could hear the catch in his voice. “I can only imagine the pain he must be going through himself, considering his history.”

“That everyone he loves dies,” I murmured.

“Yeah.” His arms tightened about me again. “Don’t die on me, Rachel. Promise.”

“I promise.” It was a promise I couldn’t keep and we both knew it. But it made us both feel better.

“Hawke buried her near an oasis on the border between Libya and Chad. I’ve got the coordinates, but it’s going to be hard to get her back. Libya’s stepped up it’s security.”

“You have rebels in Chad at your disposal, don’t you? Let them keep the Libyans at bay. Give me five good men, and I’ll bring Gabrielle back to you.”

“I was thinking of a similar plan. I’m calling in every favor I can think of. But I don’t want you involved. Like you say, you’re not in The Firm anymore.”

“I can finance it independently.”

“And then if you got caught, my hands would be tied. No, Rachel. I’ll handle this in my own way.”

“All right, Michael.” I knew there was no sense arguing. “And Airwolf?” I winced at myself, remembering Marella’s warning.

“Well . . . we sort of got her back.”

“Sort of?” I leaned up on my elbow. “That’s like a little bit pregnant. Did you get it, or didn’t you?”

“Hawke successfully liberated Airwolf from Libyan hands,” Michael said slowly. “But he’s got it hidden somewhere, and it’s wired. He’s using it to barter with – us helping him to find his brother, who’s somewhere in Viet Nam as a prisoner of war – for Airwolf.”

“And he won’t give it back until he gets what he wants.”

“I don’t blame him for that, Rachel. But it put me in a bind with the Pentagon. As long as he has it, we have to try and get it back from him.”

“And what does the Committee say?”

“They naturally don’t like it. But they also realize to retain use of it, we don’t have a choice. We have to do everything in our power to fulfill Hawke’s request . . .”

“ . . . while doing everything in your power to get Airwolf back.”

“That’s the vicious circle that we’re presented with.”

“Well that sucks dead bunnies,” I muttered crossly.

“It does that,” he agreed, then yawned loudly. “Mmmm. I’m really getting tired again.”

“Then sleep,” I told him. “And let tomorrow take care of itself.”

After I heard his gentle breathing, I decided to take my own good advice and fell deeply asleep.

******************************

A week later, Gabrielle’s remains were brought home. I didn’t ask Michael how, I knew better. A date was set for the memorial after her remains were cremated. Two days before the memorial, I spoke to Michael in the Commissary during a break.

“Hawke should be allowed to come to the memorial if he wants to,” I broached the subject gently. “I know you two are at odds with each other. But it’s only right.”

Michael looked at his plate of fruit as if it had suddenly become the most unappetizing thing he’d ever seen. “I almost couldn’t face him the last time, Rachel. Call me a wuss if you must, but I can’t do that.”

“Then I will. He may not even accept, Michael, but he should be given the option.”

“He might actually take it better coming from you,” Michael agreed.

“I’ll invite him to lunch, tomorrow,” I decided. “At the beach house.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Michael said. “I can always count on you.”

I smiled brightly. “Of course you can!”

Afterwards, I drove to Santini Air, pulling into a place by the office. I peeked around the corner of the office door where Dominic Santini was munching on a bag of Fritos and going over some papers. Timidly, I rapped on the door.

“Dominic?”

He looked up, his leathery face one of momentary startlement. Automatically, he dropped his pen and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Rachel!” A grin spread across his face. “Damned if it ain’t!” He took my hand in both of his and shook it heartily. “Let’s look at ya – now, why do all you gals insist on being so skinny? You look like you haven’t eaten in six months!”

“Believe me, Dominic, I haven’t been starving myself.,” I assured him, my eyes twinkling.

“When did you get back?” he asked, indicating a chair in front of his desk. I gratefully took it.

“About three months ago.”

Dom’s face sobered. “About the time Michael . . .” He trailed off.

“Yeah.” I licked dry lips. “The very day.” There was a bit of a silence. Finally, I looked up at the older man. “Dominic . . . I know the whole story. How’s String doing?”

“Well I’ll be damned. You’re the first one that’s asked about String.” He shifted in his chair, a bit uncomfortably. “I’ll give it to you straight, Rachel. Not good.”

“How bad is not good?”
“As in right after it happened, he took two or three cases of Wild Turkey up to the cabin with him and I haven’t heard from him since."

“That’s almost two weeks!” I exclaimed. “You haven’t checked on him?”

“A couple of times. He wasn’t good. Not good at all.”

“Drinking himself to death is not the solution, Dominic. There is no solution to this.”

“I know that. So does he. But short of sittin’ on him, there’s nothin’ I can do. He’s gotta work through the grief thing himself.”

I was quiet for a couple of long moments. “Dominic, Gabrielle’s remains were brought back. There’s going to be a memorial on Friday in the Firm chapel.”

Dom shook his head. “If you’re wantin’ to know if Hawke would want to go, I can already tell ya – it’s the wrong thing to ask right now.”

“Well, we can’t wait on him, Dom. Someone at least owes it to him to ask.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna be the one to do it.”

I nodded understandingly. “I expected you wouldn’t. Which is why I’m going to ask you to fly me up to his cabin today. So I can ask him. I’ll pay for it.”

Dom looked at me with consternation. “I don’t know how much he’s had to drink over these past weeks, Rachel. I don’t know how he’s gonna react to an invitation like that.” He shrugged. “Know what? Take one of the Rangers. No charge. Just bring her back in one piece. I close at six, so if you’re still up there, you might as well stay if String’ll let you. If you get back after we’re closed up, I’ll leave the phone outside the office so you can call me and I can let you out.”

“Thanks, Dom. If nothing else, I’ll see you in the morning.”

There was smoke coming out the chimney when I neared Hawke’s cabin. I knew how sensitive his hearing was so he’d heard me before I came around the bend in the lake. He also probably knew the sound of the Ranger. As I landed the chopper carefully onto the dock, I glanced up and saw him at the door with Tet, his blue tick hound. When I disembarked, he even looked halfway happy to see me. He came forward, down the cabin steps, and despite the good figure he presented in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt, one look at his face demonstrated how much he’d aged.

“Rachel.” He took my hand. “Damn, girl. What are you doing up here?”

I smiled, brushing the hair that swept around my face. “I’ll tell you if you invite me in.” I hugged him, hoping to impart some empathy into that thin, strong frame. “I’ve missed you.”

He placed an arm around my shoulders. “Dom give you the dirt?” he asked as we stepped inside the warm, rustic cabin. His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

“Um . . . not exactly.”

“C’mon. He had to have said something to you.” He swung over to the bar. “Scotch straight up, right?”

“Give me a ginger ale,” I replied, seating myself near the fireplace, cold with ashes.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

I glanced around. His cabin was spotless. Including the kitchen. My eyes then rested on his thin, muscular frame. He was haggard. His eyes were hollow.

“Looks like you haven’t been eating much,” I told him softly.

He handed me my ginger ale and sat across from me, another tumbler in hand. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve been doing all right.”

“Are you lying to me or to yourself? Or both?”

He gave me a most unpleasant look. “You’re beginning to sound like Dominic. I don’t need a mother hen.”

“Would you object if I fix you some dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“I’ll make it for you anyway.”

“Look, I had a big lunch!” he huffed in irritation.

“Yeah. Half or full bottle of Wild Turkey?” I challenged pointedly.

His shoulders slumped. His look was more than moody or pensive. It was hard. Grief was etched in every line of his face. And, I noticed, there seemed to be more lines than I remembered.

“I’m sorry, Hawke. I haven’t any right to sit in judgment. I’m just worried about you. Dominic’s worried about you. Isn’t it OK for us to be worried about you?”

“Who’s idea was it to come up here? Yours or Dominic’s?”

“Mine. Dominic recommended I stay away. So did Michael.”

“Michael.” He took a deep drink from his tumbler. “It all begins and ends with Michael, doesn’t it?” He looked over at me. “Why are you here, Rachel? Thought you left him for good. You’re better off.”

“Now who’s being judgmental?” He didn’t say anything. After a moment, I continued. “The truth is, Hawke, I’ve been here for awhile. Since the incident at Red Star. I helped keep things running while Michael and Marella were out of commission.”

“You always were the Good Samaritan.”

“That’s not the reason. Michael was the reason. He’s the reason I’m still here.”

“You’re getting back together.”

“That’s the idea. We have a son to think about, you know.”

“I heard. That’s not a good reason to stay together.”

“That’s not what I’m here to discuss with you, Hawke.”

“Oh. So this really isn’t a social call.” His voice was sour. “Let me guess. Michael has a job for me to do and he sent you as the messenger.”

“No.” My voice was very quiet. “Gabrielle’s remains were recovered.”

He sat stock still. He didn’t even blink.

“We’re having a memorial this Friday evening at the Firm chapel. I thought you might want to know that.”

The silence went on forever. Finally, Hawke moved, placing his glass on the table beside him. “That’s the reason you came up here.”

“That’s the only reason I came up here. And to see how you were doing.” My ginger ale suddenly tasted flat. “So since I’ve done that – and since I’ve obviously worn out my welcome – I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to leave. ‘Sides, it’s getting dark. You can leave in the morning.” He got to his feet. “The offer of you making dinner still stand?”

I smiled a little. “Yeah. I’m starving.”

“Fire up the stove grill. You can have a T-bone and I’m eating fish.”

That night, a lot of things came out into the open for both of us. Never big on spilling his guts, Hawke was guarded with his talking. I knew he was telling me what he wanted me to know. He knew that I knew about him and Gabrielle, but he also knew he didn’t have to go into detail about things for me to pick up on the relationship. In turn, I brought him up to date. By the time we were clearing the dishes away, he was shaking his head.

“Y’know, that guy’s gonna keep on hurting you as long as you let him,” Hawke told me firmly. “I mean . . . look at this mess. It started out as a deception on his part and it’s still a deception. How can you have a relationship based on nothing but lies?”

“It’s not based on lies, Hawke. When the dust cleared and I looked at the situation, I realized that had I been in Michael’s place, I might have done the exact same thing, no matter what it cost me. That’s the same kind of decision I made when I wouldn’t marry Michael – right before I had Michael Junior. I stuck to my guns. I had to. I couldn’t do anything else. Michael had to avenge his father in the only way he knew how. He couldn’t do anything else, either.”

We sat down with after-dinner brandies. He built a small fire in the fireplace, poking at the hot coals. Then, he settled back down in his favorite overstuffed chair.

“Rachel, I’m going to say my piece about Michael, and then I’m going to leave the whole thing alone,” he finally said. “And the only reason I’m doing it is because I think you’re a neat lady and I don’t want to see you hurt any more than you have been.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” I retorted, a little irritated.

“Look. Michael is Michael. He’s the way he is. No one – not you, not anyone – is going to change him.”

“I’m not trying to change him. I know who and what he is. I’ve lived with him for almost six years.”

“He’s been in the deception trade for years, Rachel. He doesn’t know any other way. I know you think you know him. Maybe you do, to a certain point. But there are things you will never know about him – things that he’ll never tell you. He’s going to continue to keep secrets from you and expect you to accept it.”

“I have. I don’t work for the Firm anymore, String. It’s over.”

“It’s never over. You never get totally away from The Company. They won’t let you. Michael won’t let you, either.”

“Michael made it very clear it was my choice to stay or go.”

“That’s what he says. But one day, it’s going to be, “’Oh, Rachel, would you mind doing me a favor here . . .’” or “’Hey, baby, I’m short-handed. Suppose you could take a couple days out of your schedule and go blow up a Columbian chem lab for me?”’

“You don’t think much of Michael. Why?”

Hawk licked dry lips. “Michael’s a patriot. No one can say anything different. I hate The Firm, but if it has to exist, I’m glad it’s Michael at the helm. But he doesn’t think twice about using people, Rachel. Look how he used you. Gabrielle. He used Moffett for his own ends and look what happened. It cost lives, almost got us into a war and almost lost him Airwolf for good. He’s a user. A damn good poker player. A hell of a CIA man. But a user. And he’ll use you again. When the dust settles, Michael will be standing on top of the hill, no matter how many bodies he has to crawl over to get there.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me,” I replied quietly, my faith never wavering. “Maybe to anyone else. But Michael loves me. He would never do anything to hurt me.”

“He might try to never hurt you,” Hawke allowed. “But he’d still end up hurting you. Maybe even destroying you. If he had to do it, he would.”

“That’s a point we’ll have to agree to disagree on,” I answered stubbornly.

That night, as I slept on the comfortable sofa, with the fire crackling in the fireplace and the muted sounds of mountain wildlife outside the door, I pondered over my reunion with Hawke and the things he said to me. Awhile back, I might have agreed with him. But my relationship with Michael had reached new levels and I had no reason to believe that he would ever hurt me.

******************************

The service for Gabrielle had not been overly long. Michael and Marella eulogized her and at the end of it, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. As I filed out with everyone else, I caught sight of Hawke towards the back of the chapel. I started to approach him when Michael appeared at his side. The two men shook hands briefly, then Michael motioned for Hawke to follow him to the front of the chapel as it emptied. I stood unobtrusively behind a pillar, watching the exchange. Their voices carried quietly through the vaulted room.

“She would have wanted to be with you,” I heard Michael say, as he turned around and handed the box containing Gabrielle’s ashes to Hawke. “I was going to have them flown up to you afterwards, but since you decided to attend . . .”

“Thank Rachel for me, will you?” Hawke asked. “I’m glad she came up to the cabin when she did. Probably saved me from alcohol poisoning.” He paused. “I’m glad I came, Michael.”

I was tempted to step out from behind the pillar and make myself known, but then I turned away and decided to make my way to the lower levels and sit in the atrium instead. I didn’t want to break in on their moment. It was too highly personal and should be left between them. I’d already listened to more than I should.

The atrium didn’t calm me like I was hoping. I sat back on a bench and watched the giant goldfish in the artificial pool, a million different things going through my brain on fast forward.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see Marella standing beside me.

“Hey,” I returned tiredly.

“You sound exhausted.” She sat down beside me.

“You do too – but you look a lot better than I do,” I replied.

She laughed humorlessly. “Don’t let the face fool you. I put on a lot of make-up today. Rumor has it you’re not coming back permanently to the fold.”

“Rumor has it right for once,” I answered.

“Wish you were coming back. We could sure use you in the field. You really helped us out with the Airwolf project after Red Star. Sure you won’t reconsider?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. Let ‘em find some younger thing to take my place blowing up the Columbian Cuckoo Dust labs and training troops in Chad.”

“I’m sure we could find you jobs closer to home,” Marella reminded me.

“Maybe. But I need to get my life together before deciding if I’m coming back to the Firm or not.”

“OK. But don’t be a stranger. If you want to hang or something, Lillian and I still have the same phone numbers.”

“Thanks, Marella.” My voice was soft. “It’s nice to know.”

“You’re still a sister. You always will be. We love you, you know.”

“I love you, too.” I held back tears. “You’ll always be family to me. Even if I don’t come back.”

She rose. “I’ve got reports to go through and follow up on. Lunch tomorrow? One o’clock?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up in the front.”

“See you then.” She disappeared through the tree-lined walkway and back to the elevators.

I stared at the man-made pool for awhile longer, then got up to follow in Marella’s footsteps to take the elevator to the lower level parking. I didn’t want to run into anyone on the way out.

I drove to the beach house in silence. When I got inside, I headed straight for the darkened bedroom and lay down on the bed, curling up into a ball. I lay there until well past dark. Then, I got to my feet and went into the kitchen, opening the cupboard where I kept a few bottles of hard liquor. Lifting a bottle of Tequila from it, I poured myself a tumbler full with a couple of ice cubes and downed it. It was seldom I even drank anymore, but tonight called for it.

My voice was thick. “You have the body of a Greek god.”

He smiled indulgently. “You’re biased.”

“Still the truth,” I answered with a sigh. I rose up, my head spinning. “Let’s go fool around.”

He steadied me, turning on a light by the sofa. “I think you need to go sleep it off, sweetheart. You’re in no condition . . .”

“I can fuck when I’m drunk!” I swayed, then gasped a little at my statement and laughed.

Michael also gave me a look – an odd one. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you use such colorful expletives when the subject was love-making,” he told me wryly. “But then in the past six years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you drunk, either.”

“’K. I get it. I’m terribly unattractive when I’m drunk.” I pushed away from him. “So I’ll just sleep out here on the sofa.” I plopped back down, leaning back against the comfortable pillows.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll sleep with me.” He picked me up from the sofa and I gave a little shriek as he walked into the bedroom. “And just for the record, drunk or sober, you could never be unattractive to me.” He dumped me unceremoniously on the bed and began to loosen his tie and took off his jacket.

I watched him disrobe, dreamily watching as he stripped naked, managing to grab a handful of his ass before he disappeared into the bathroom.

I took the opportunity to quickly strip and slide underneath the sheet. A couple of minutes later, he came back out, locked up the house and doused the lights and slid in beside me in the darkness. He resisted my advances firmly, wanting only to hold me. This infuriated me and I told him so.

“Rachel – I want to make love to you. But I want you to be fully aware when we do,” he explained gently.

“I need you, Michael. Please.” My voice was close to breaking. “I may be a little inebriated, but I know what’s going on. And I know I want you to love me.”

“Not when you’re not in control of your faculties. Now settle down and go to sleep.”

//Well, be damned!// I thought to myself. //This is the first time he’s EVER refused me.//
I laid there, wide awake, quickly sobering. Michael had fallen into an exhausted slumber beside me, his nose buried in my neck, one arm gently around my waist. I thought very clearly about what had happened since meeting Michael and joining the Firm.

I remembered Hawke’s words: //You never get totally away from The Company. They won’t let you. Michael won’t let you, either.//

//Could he possibly be right?// I pondered to myself. //God, my life is so topsy-turvy. I thought I had it all sorted out awhile ago. Now it’s more confusing than ever.//

Twice I’d left the Firm. Once on moral grounds, once because I’d felt betrayed. I’d stayed because I’d wanted to. Admittedly, yes, partly because of Michael. But I loved the job. It was exciting. I felt as though I was making a difference. That maybe Michael’s idea that good guys always wear white was a valid one.

Maybe it was still valid. But maybe I was ready to get off the white horse and retire. Maybe I was ready to settle down and be a mom and raise my son and try to help people in other ways. Like I was doing in New Orleans. Michael would have a cow. His wife a fortuneteller? A tarot-card reader? A witch? And his family – the ladies might find it amusing, but I seriously doubted the menfolk would tolerate it.

My year of sabbatical taught me more than a few things. Like I had a hell of a lot of power in my hands that sometimes was hard to control without proper grounding. That I had a special affinity to elementals to aid me in work and animals seemed to be magnetized to me. Michael would call it hocus-pocus. He would always humor me, but he would probably never believe it. It was something I chose not to discuss with Michael for those very reasons. The reality was, I couldn’t have a life like that and be Michael’s wife. It would never happen. Michael was the type of man you read about in the Society columns. Having a wife who was an up-and-coming medicine woman just didn’t cut it.

My sleep was fitful and when I woke late the next morning, Michael was already gone and I had a dreadful hangover. Just as I stepped out of the shower, the phone rang insistently and I picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re up,” came Michael’s voice over the line. “You didn’t sleep good last night.”

“How do you know?” I muttered, toweling dry my hair on one side.

“I could feel you tossing and turning. Anyway, I wondered if you could meet me for lunch about one? At that lovely little Italian place just around the corner from the Beverly Center.”

“I have a date with Marella,” I replied.

“Not anymore you don’t. She was going to call to cancel – hung up on some paperwork from me, probably. So . . . settle for lunch with me instead?”

“Yeah, sure,” I replied.

Such a request wasn’t unusual from Michael. He wanted to spend as much time with me as possible. I hoped to be able to avoid most of the paparazzi. Lately, they’d been more nosy than usual.

I actually felt half-way human again by the time I was walking into Valiente’s. I saw Michael at his usual private table in an alcove near a window and I walked over, letting him seat me. He’d already ordered an antipasto platter for a starter and the wine. My black designer jeans and red, lacy blouse contrasted sharply with his usual white.

“So lovely you look,” he complimented me, the usual debonair amusement on his handsome face. “Do you need a menu, love?”

I shook my head. “Canneloni Al Forno with extra parmesan,” I answered.

Michael motioned over the waiter, who took the order and disappeared. Then, Michael turned to me.

“Feeling better?” he asked, the amusement gone and empathy in his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do I look OK?”

“Tired, but not the least big hung over. You still look beautiful.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“I think I might be able to take the next weekend away,” he told me as we munched on olives and various vegetables before us. “Should we go to Catalina Island?”

I shrugged. “If you like.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” He frowned. “You’d rather go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know.”

His hand went over mine. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s bothering you. It’s more than Gabrielle’s funeral yesterday. What is it?”

“I don’t know where I belong anymore.” I surprised myself with the words and their bluntness.

“That’s easy. You belong with me.” Michael had never sounded more positive.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then tell me what you do mean.”

Our salads were brought and we ate in thoughtful silence for a few moments. Finally, I leaned back and he looked up at me, the expression in his face directing me to continue.

“Michael, my spiritual life means very much to me,” I stated firmly. I waited.

He acknowledged this. “I know it does, Rachel.”

“And I can’t reconcile myself to be an operative any longer.”

Michael took my hand in his and kissed the palm. “That’s all right, love. I’d never chain you to something you didn’t want to do.” Then he gently pulled away and began to eat again.

I watched as he ate. “I want to make one of the spare rooms at the beach house into my working space.”

“What do you mean, working space?”

“Altar, tools, spellbooks, fetishes . . .”

“Thought you were a shaman, not a witch. Spellbooks?”

“Within the realm of respectability. Besides, I’m an eclectic.”

“So . . . what do you do? Use a combination of dieties?”

“Something like that – but Indian shamanism is the primary. And I’ll be creating a space outside, in one of the coves, strictly for shamanistic ritual.” My eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to reply. Finally, when his salad was almost gone, he sat back again.

“If that’s what you want, Rachel, then you don’t need my permission.”

“Well . . . I thought I should at least consult with you since . . .” I broke off, biting my lip.

He looked up at me, curious. “Since what?”

I took a deep drink of the champagne. “Since . . . well, is your offer to marry me still open?”

Michael’s jaw dropped a fraction, then he closed it and smiled. “Wide open,” he replied.

“Good. I think it’s about time Michael the IV got to know his parents, too, don’t you think?”

“You’re ready for all of that? Motherhood, wifehood . . .?” He was stunned.

“If you can handle what I need for my spiritual well-being, then I can handle the rest,” I told him softly.

Our main courses were brought and Michael started on his hungrily. I just picked at the food. After long moments, he noticed my almost non-existent appetite and smiled beautifically.

“It’s your beach house. Do what you want with it.”

“Yes, but it was a gift given to me by you. I wouldn’t think of transforming an entire room without consulting with you first.”

“How weird is the redecoration going to get?”

“Really weird, Michael.”

Suddenly he grinned. “Go for it. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” He suddenly frowned. “Where does that leave us as far as a wedding ceremony?”

This time, I smiled. “Vegas. No shortage of chapels there. And I imagine they can tailor-make the ceremony.”

“Always the lady with answers,” he told me, eyes twinkling. “By the way, when you dabble in your hocus-pocus, can I watch?”

“All you want. As long as you don’t make fun of it.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually teach me a thing or two.”

“I’d love to try, because that would truly be an accomplishment.”

Michael suddenly leaned over and kissed me, hard. When he leaned back in his chair, his hand was still playing with tendrils of my hair. “My wife, the Indian shaman. Sorceress. Siren. Witch.”

“One day,” I told him seriously, “you’re going to experience something that can’t be explained. I may make a believer out of you yet.”

“I already am,” he replied and the love in his face was not to be missed. “I believe in you. And there is nothing that exists in this world or the next that could ever make me believe otherwise.”

******************************

Everything should have been happy ever after, you would have thought. Anyone would have thought. But no. Just when you think you have it all pulled together . . .

Michael became more involved with Airwolf and Stringfellow Hawke than ever before. As he was basically the liaison between the Committee and Hawke as far as assignments, he began involving himself more in their lives. At first, things were fine. Hawke and Michael were even beginning to warm up to each other a bit. Not much, but some.

The first thing that came between us was Maria Von Furster, a long-ago love of Michael’s. Without even telling me, he went over to get her out of enemy territory – almost getting himself and Hawke both killed in the process. The betrayal was devastating to him – and I would be the last one to minimize his feelings on the matter. But it drove a wedge between us. A big one. I wanted him to come to me and talk about it. And for whatever reason, Michael didn’t. Or couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. I recalled the conversation he had with his sister Evelyn back when Michael Junior was born, me concealed on the steps and listening. I reminded him of Maria, Evelyn said as much. But Michael had been very strong in his conviction that I was very unlike Maria.

So I went into my little world raising our son and delving deeper into metaphysics and Michael kept to his world of espionage and deception. We made love often and he was still the charming, surprising lover he’d always been. But the wall remained, and after awhile, we both got used to it. Too used to it to change it. I knew better than to ask Michael much about his work, being a former operative myself. Our commonalities weren’t so common anymore. And it was probably why we hadn’t gotten married yet.

Somehow, Michael had gotten used to getting into the danger of the job again. He was starting to go on missions himself, Airwolf missions, regular missions . . . I stopped trying to keep tabs because I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere, even with Marella. But Marella did keep me informed of his wellbeing, for which I was grateful. As for Michael Junior, we were getting along famously. I found I was rather suited to motherhood and enjoyed everything, even when I put him into daycare. My common-law spouse, however, was around less and less. The time he spent with Michael Junior was inarguably quality time, but it wasn’t enough. Michael Junior was not getting to know his daddy as well as he should have.

One night I found Michael standing stark naked at the picture window looking out onto the ocean. It was just a little after two a.m. Just the way he stood made me realize he had a lot on his mind. I watched him for a few moments, then slipped out of bed and went over to him, my arms encircling him from the back.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked gently.

“Y’know. Same old.” His voice sounded heavy.

“Stuff you can’t talk to me about?”

“Something like that.”

I sighed. “Damn it, Michael. First Maria. Then the Fortuneteller. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

I could feel him slump a little. “You read me way too well, you know.”

“You’re practically my husband. I’ve lived with you for almost seven years.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I know you want us to get married.”

“If I can have you like this, I’m satisfied. I won’t force you into something you’re unsure about. I just want you to talk to me. Confide in me. Like you used to. I’m not your operative any longer, but you know you can rely on my secrecy. On anything.”

“I know that. But if you were to be kidnapped, you’d have information you shouldn’t.”

“What’s bothering you isn’t really business-related,” I told him. “I know you’ve been thinking about Maria and her betrayal. What makes you think I wouldn’t understand if you unburdened yourself?”

“It couldn’t be easy for you to hear about Maria.”

“So what? I’m not going to leave you over her. I refuse to take second place to a memory.”

“Thank God. At least one of us isn’t scared.”

“You were afraid I would?”

“Not rational, is it? Again, I didn’t give you enough credit.” He turned to me, losing his hands in the folds of my dark hair. “Do you really want to get married? To me?”

I smiled softly at him. “Only if it’s what you want, too.”

“This weekend. Vegas. No more delays, OK?”

“OK. I want to ask you for one more thing.”

He leaned down, placing a probing kiss on my mouth. “Ask me.”

“Would you, for the sake of your son and for me, stay out of the field a little more? I don’t want to be a premature widow and Michael Junior needs to get to know his daddy.”

“Whatever it takes to keep the two of you in my life,” he agreed humbly.

“Thank you.” I was so relieved.

That weekend, our Vegas ceremony took all of ten minutes. Lillian had effusively volunteered to babysit Michael Junior at her place. Hawke and Dom and Caitlin, the new girl Santini had hired, all stood witness and we had a fun-filled two days at the casinos and the shows. Cait and I hit it off immediately and by the time we were heading back to L.A., I felt different. I felt married. Michael sent word to his family upon our return and I was ready to take on a life of domestic bliss.

Eight years with the Firm and I still didn’t get it. I was still so terribly, terribly naïve.

I still hadn’t learned that fairy tales are just fiction, and you can’t expect them to come true in real life.

******************************