Journey into Darkness

-*-

The sun was dipping low in the sky on Wednesday afternoon as Caitlin drove towards Michael's house. They would be leaving for Cambodia in a matter of hours..She knew it was what she had to do, but she still wasn't entirely comfortable with her decision.

Going into a war zone with String or Dom would be one thing, especially with the firepower of the Lady behind them. This was something else entirely. This was Michael, a man she didn't really know, and one that neither Stringfellow Hawke nor Dominic Santini totally trusted. Worse, it was without the comforting presence of Airwolf at her back.

*If the roles were reversed, he'd do it for you,* she told herself. She knew it was true. Michael had been there for her, he'd been there for all of them. Now, with luck, she could repay that debt, and help rescue St. John as well.

Stopping at a red light, she leaned over, checking her reflection in the rear view mirror. The dark, nearly black hair was jarring. Marella had been right, though. The dye would eventually wash out, but her natural red hair would have instantly marked her as a foreigner in Cambodia. Not that anyone would ever mistake her for Asian close up, but from a distance she might pass a casual observation.

Caitlin took a deep breath, turning her full attention back to her driving. She was unfamiliar with the back roads that snaked through the canyons between Ventura Boulevard and the coastline, and getting lost on her was to the deputy director's would be incredibly embarrassing.

She tried to concentrate, but her subconscious mind insisted on running through their plans one final time. They would take the late night flight out of Los Angeles International to Bangkok, then connect with a private flight to Huai Phai, near the Thai-Laotian border. A boat would take them slowly down the Mekong, letting them off near the Khmer Rouge camp. Once they rescued the prisoners, Marella would pick them up in the Huey and return them to Huai Phai. From there, they would bring the men home by way of the military base in Manila.

On paper it seemed simple, but there were so many things that could go wrong. There was no way of knowing if St. John was still being held at the enemy camp, and while Michael seemed to trust his contact, Caitlin knew nothing about the man or what his motives were.

Despite her fears of getting lost, Caitlin found Michael's house easily. In the daylight, it was even more impressive than it had appeared at night. Caitlin saw that Marella's Lincoln was already parked in the driveway.

She rang the doorbell and Marella let her in. The agent told Caitlin that there was coffee in the kitchen, then excused herself to finish her work on their passports. Caitlin headed in the direction Marella had suggested; she knew where the kitchen was from their dinner on Sunday night.

A dark haired man sat at the table, his back to her as she entered. “Oh, I didn't know anyone...” she said in surprise, not expecting Michael to have company. “Oh!” she said again, laughing as she saw who it was. “You sure look different.”

“Good.” Michael grinned, amused.

Caitlin stepped back, taking a long look at him. Like hers, his hair had been dyed dark, and he had shaved off his mustache He wore a pair of mirrored sunglasses instead of his usual half-darkened ones, and his wardrobe was decidedly different. In place of the white three-piece suit, he wore denims, a chambray shirt and cowboy boots. “What do you think?” he asked.

“If I passed you on the street, I wouldn't know you. That hair makes you look younger.” That much was the truth, but she did miss the mustache, somehow he looked odd without it.

He chuckled. “Maybe I should keep it this color.” Michael started to get up. “Let me get you a coffee.”

She waved him back into his seat. “I can get it.” Caitlin filled a cup, found cream in the refrigerator. Coffee fixed, she slid into a chair.

“Bags packed?” he asked.

“In my trunk..”

“Nervous?”

She looked up, but the mirrored glasses made it impossible to read his expression. “A little,” she admitted. *More like scared half to death.* Caitlin wasn't going to admit that. “Everything set?”

Michael nodded. “Marella's just finishing up the paperwork..” He grinned. “By the way, I like your dress.”

Caitlin could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. The dress was fire engine red, cut a couple inches too short and revealing more cleavage than she was comfortable showing. *It wasn't something she would buy, but it was something Billie Jean Marsh would wear, and until they reached the Mekong, that was who she would be.* Billie Jean Marsh and Bobby Lee West, the aliases Marella had arranged for them – the slick Texan car dealer and his soon-to-be third wife bimbo fiancée. “Thanks, I think. I swear I'm going to kill Marella.” Caitlin thought the agent had been entirely too creative in arranging their alternate identities.

“Did I hear someone threatening my life?” As if on cue, Marella appeared from the other room.

“She's not serious about it. However, I might be. Really, Marella, the best alias you could come up with was car salesman?” There was humor in his voice.

Marella ignored him and raised the instant camera she was carrying. “I need to take photos for your passports.” She scanned the room, chose a bare section of wall. “Over here will work. Caitlin?”

She stood where the agent asked. Marella snapped a couple shots. “That will do it, thanks. Your turn, sir.”

Caitlin returned to the table, and Michael rose to take her place. She wondered about the glasses, it didn't seem like shades would be allowed in a passport photograph. As if in answer to her unspoken question, Michael reached up and pulled them off. Caitlin found herself staring across the room into his eyes, even at the distance a striking blue. Both of them.

*Artificial?* If so it was an incredible job. She looked away as Marella took pictures, and she heard the agent excuse herself.

“Our little secret?”

Caitlin looked up as Michael sat back down beside her. He was wearing the glasses again, and his expression was unreadable. “Uh, sure.” She wondered if she looked as confused as she felt.

His lips twitched into a smile. “In case you're wondering...” He tugged the sunglasses off, and turned them to show he that behind the silvered surface, one lens was opaque. “I've got twenty-twenty vision in both eyes. Unfortunately, when I take these off, you have a twin sister.” He slipped them back on. “As much as I might like that dress, seeing two of them is rather disconcerting.”

She wasn't sure she understood. “Double vision?”

“Yeah. Head injury. I was in a coma for two weeks.” He shrugged. “The outcome could have been a lot worse.”

As a Highway Patrol helicopter pilot, Caitlin had sometimes been the first on the scene of an accident. A part of the job had been a first responder course. She had enough basic medical training to know that he was right. A coma that lasted that long could have left him with amnesia, seizures -- he might never have woken up at all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Marella's return. The agent set passports, IDs and tickets on the table. “You should be all set.”

Michael thumbed the documents. “Good work, Marella. Like always.”

“Thank you.”

“Now get out of here. You've got more exams tomorrow. Go study.” Something in Michael's voice and manner suggested a private joke between him and his aide.

Marella laughed. “And you can get some sleep.” She turned serious. “I'll be in Huai Phai by Monday morning. As soon as I get your signal...”

“You'll swoop in and carry us all back to civilization. Bring coffee – better yet, a bottle of champagne. If we pull this off, we're going to deserve a celebration.”

She nodded, started to leave, hesitated. “I wish I was going with you, sir. Be careful, both of you.”

Caitlin heard the Lincoln pull out of the driveway. Curiosity got the best of her. “What was that about studying?”

Michael got up and refilled his cup. “I don't think she's ever studied for a test in her life. She has eidetic memory. Marella reads it once, and it's locked in her head forever. A useful talent in the business, I wish I could do it.”

“I can see where it would come in handy.”

Michael checked his watch. “We've got about an hour and a half before we need to leave for LAX. Are you hungry?

“Maybe a little.”

She expected him to suggest stopping to pick up something. Instead, he opened the refrigerator. “Not a lot of choices. I cleaned most of this out, knowing I'd be gone. How about an omelet?”

“That's fine.” Caitlin watched as he started pulling things out. Eggs, cheese, ham. She rose and joined him. “What can I do to help?”

“You like onions and peppers?”

“Sure.”

He handed her the vegetables. “Start cutting. Knife's in the drawer, cutting board below.”

She did as he asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Michael cracked the eggs with the ease of a professional chef. He added the other ingredients. “I never would have pictured you as a cook.”

“I'm a bachelor You expect me to starve?” He grinned, gesturing toward a cabinet. “Plates.”

“I guess I expected you to order take out like most of the other single men I know.” She set the table.

He divided the omelet between them. “It gets old after awhile.”

They sat down. She tasted the eggs. “This is delicious.”

“Thanks.” He reached for something on the back of the table. “Before I forget--” He slid a small velvet box towards her.

“What's this?” Caitlin asked. It looked like a jewelry box.

“Your ring. You are supposed to be my fiancée, after all.” He chuckled. “I'm sure Bobby Lee would get his girlfriend an engagement ring.”

Caitlin opened the box. The ring was gorgeous, with one of the largest stones she'd ever seen. She looked at him incredulously. “I can't wear this into Cambodia! It's got to be worth a fortune!”

He laughed. “Don't worry about it. Cubic Zirconia. It's fake. I hope it fits.”

She slipped it on. It fit perfectly. She held her hand up so she could better admire the ring. “Fake or not, it's beautiful.”

They finished eating, and Caitlin offered to do the dishes. He shook his head. “We'll just pack them into the dishwasher. The housekeeper will be here in the morning. She'll take care of them.”

“Housekeeper, huh?” Caitlin had gotten comfortable enough with Michael that she didn't mind teasing him a bit.

“As you said, I'm a bachelor. I might cook, but I don't clean.” He held out his hand. “Let me have your keys. I'll put my bag in your trunk, and we can get out of here.”

-*-


The airport was quiet, most flights having taken off hours earlier. She suspected Michael might have booked the late departure for just that reason. He had taken off his shades as they entered the building, slipping them into a pocket. He hovered over her, keeping his hand on her elbow as they checked in and passed through customs and security. Caitlin wondered how much of his closeness was an act based on their aliases, and how much was the disorientation she knew he must be feeling.

They found their gate, and Michael led her to seats in the corner, out of the way, but with a clear view of the area. He dropped into the chair with a loud sigh, and his hand came up to massage his temple.

Caitlin sat down beside him. “Are you all right?”

He glanced over at her. “I will be. Just a nasty headache.”

“I think I've got some aspirin.” She started to rummage in her carry-on.

He waved it off. “I've already taken ibuprofen.”

“Not working, huh?”

“Helps with the knee, but it won't touch the headache.”

“So that's why you're not limping.” She had noticed as they walked through the airport that his gait was nearly normal.

He shrugged. “Partly. Mostly it's a matter of remembering not to.”

She watched him, the way that he casually scanned the area without seeming to. With the double vision, it had to be hell. “Shit,” he hissed, so quietly Caitlin barely heard him.

“What?” she whispered.

“That guard.”

Caitlin spotted the security guard headed in their general direction. From his unhurried pace, she guessed that he was just making his rounds. For some reason, Michael had noticed him. *Damn it, they must know each other.* It would be too obvious to jump up and stand between them. *Now what do I do?* Not seeing an alternative, she leaned across Michael, pulling him into a kiss, letting her hair fall across their faces further shielding them.

Initially stiff with surprise, he relaxed into the embrace, playing along as she had hoped he would. She held the position, waiting, mentally counting the seconds it would take the guard to pass them. Judging that it had been long enough, she eased back, still holding him close and blocking the guard's view. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah.”

Caitlin released Michael and sat back. “I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what else to do.”

“No need to apologize. That was quick thinking, and not entirely unpleasant.” Michael grinned. “Miller was never very observant, chances are he would have walked right past us, but...” He gestured toward the distant guard. “He worked for me. The bastard tried to get fresh with Samantha in the copy room. I fired him. She broke his arm.”

“Attaboy, Sam.”

Miller didn't return, and their flight boarded without further incident. Their seats were in first class, a perk Caitlin wasn't accustomed to. It was one she had come to appreciate by the time they landed in Bangkok. They had spent over twenty hours in the air, another hour or two changing planes. Somehow they had crossed enough time zones that a 9pm departure had essentially turned into a 9am arrival. Her internal clock was completely thrown off, and she wasn't even sure what day it was.

Customs moved relatively quickly, and they met up in the airport bar with the Thai pilot who would fly them to Huai Phai. .He was a small, polite man who insisted on carrying Caitlin's luggage for her. The trip was uneventful, save for the unavoidably bumpy landing. She doubted whether the Cessna Citation was designed to be landed on a grass strip, but their pilot did an admirable job.

Again carrying Caitlin's bags, he walked them to a tiny guest house, surprisingly close to the makeshift runway. He gave them their final instructions before he returned to the plane. Michael and Caitlin would wait at the guest house for the few hours that remained until darkness descended, when their ride would come to drive them to the river.

Caitlin called first dibs on the bathroom, eager to get out of the dress she had been wearing since leaving Los Angeles. She showered quickly and changed into a pair of Capri pants and a short sleeved blouse. She reorganized her packing, moving the items she needed into a knapsack she could carry onto the boat. Finished. she laid down on the bed while Michael cleaned up.

-*-

“You awake?'

Caitlin hadn't expected to doze, but knew she must have, because Michael's words woke her. She sat up on the edge of the bed, stretching, and found him standing before her. He was carrying two cups of coffee that he had gotten from somewhere, and she accepted one of them gratefully. “Thanks.”

“It's black,” he warned. “There wasn't any milk.”

“Doesn't matter.” It was likely that it would be the last coffee they would taste until the mission was over.

Michael lowered himself into the room's only chair, sipping his own coffee. He had changed, too, into black pants and t-shirt, a black cloth patch covering his left eye. The change ran deeper than his clothing. He had a different air about him, something more basic and primal. Despite the oppressive heat, she felt a chill run through her. Regardless of the warnings Michael had given her, on some level Caitlin hadn't really been able to associate the man Dom called “The Spotless Wonder” with the horrors he had described. The man now before her was someone else entirely. *You knew what you were getting into,* she reminded herself. That knowledge didn't make her feel any better.

Caitlin had just finished the coffee when she heard the vehicle approaching. The engine was loud in the still night, muffler either missing or rusted through. Michael spoke to the driver, and waved her to join them. She stowed her pack in the back of the Jeep beside Michael's, then climbed into the rear seat. The driver took off with a spray of gravel, turning to bounce down a rutted path through the forest. To both Caitlin's relief and dismay, it didn't take long to reach the river.

The boat that waited there for them might have been as old as Thailand itself. It appeared to be some sort of houseboat, wide and low in the water, crates and barrels stacked haphazardly on the deck.. In broken, accented English, the driver of the Jeep introduced their skipper as a man named Lue. Lue seemed nearly as old and worn as his boat, with long graying hair pulled back into a knot, and a vile smelling cigarette hanging between stained teeth. He spoke no English, and Michael exchanged words with him in a language Caitlin didn't recognize.

They were ushered into a tiny room, the single candle on the table revealing bench seats built in on either side, a small window above each. Caitlin turned to find Lue's eyes on her, leering in a manner that needed no translation. Michael saw the look as well, and he pulled her towards him, arm wrapped protectively around her. He reached down and took her hand, raising it so that Lue could see the ring on her finger, and barked something sharp and guttural to their skipper. The man shrugged and left them alone.

As soon as the door had closed behind Lue, Michael released Caitlin, moving away from her. She looked up at him, amused. "Just what did you say to him?"

Michael hesitated, taking the time to slip the pack off his back and set it on the deck. "That you were my property."

She laughed at his obvious discomfort. "Thanks, I think."

He returned her grin. "He won't bother you. I told him that I'd cut his balls off if he did."

“You didn't!” Caitlin caught the look on his face and grimaced. “You did. Ouch. Remind me to call you the next time one of my flying students tries to get fresh with me.”

In the dim light, she looked around the cramped quarters. There was a door in the corner, open enough that she could see that it led to the head. The boat reeked of diesel fuel, rotted fish and stale sweat, and the odor that came from that corner was even less appealing. “Well, I guess we might as well make ourselves to home.”

“Let's see if Choi took care of us.” Michael raised the top of one of the benches, revealing a storage area beneath. “Looks like he came through.”

Caitlin walked around the table to stand beside Michael. The storage compartment was stocked with rifles, ammunition and grenades. Following his lead, she raised the seat of second bench, finding a cooler and packages of snacks and cereal. Michael joined her, and lifted the cooler out of the compartment. He opened it, “Bottled water and the swill the locals consider beer. Some fruit in here, too. You want anything?” he asked.

“No thanks.” She lowered the cover to the bench, and tossed her knapsack on it. It wouldn't make a very comfortable bed, but it would do.

Caitlin heard the boat's diesel start up and shot a questioning glance at Michael. “Lue's going to move back out into the river, then anchor for the night,” he explained.

She nodded, smothering a yawn as she sat down. “Why don't you get some sleep?” he asked. “There's not much we can do until morning.”

It sounded good to her. As bored as she'd been on the long flight, she really hadn't been able to sleep on the plane. “What about you?”

“In a little while.” He gestured toward the candle. “Is that going to bother you?”

She shook her head. “No. If you want to blow it out later, that's fine, too.”

Caitlin laid down, her back towards him. She adjusted the knapsack until it made a serviceable pillow. The engine cut off, leaving them in silence. It was the last thing she remembered before sleep took her.