Second Chances Part 3 - Secrets

Disclaimer – I do not own any rights to Airwolf or the characters created in the TV series. I have just borrowed them for entertainment purposes and make no money from writing this.

This story contains adult situations such as consensual sex, rape and language. See ratings on title page for full list.
If you are under-age or easily offended please read no further.

This story is the third in my 'Second Chances' series and is set approximately 1 month after the end of season 3 and 7 months after the events in Second Chances Part 2 – The Trouble with Teenagers. Some references may be made to past episodes but I don't promise 100% accuracy to the series. It would be useful to have read the previous 2 stories but not essential.
This is fan fiction based on the series and the stories and the original characters in them are my creation.

Second Chances Part 3 - Secrets by Bethhawke.

Chapter 1

Stringfellow Hawke strolled into the Santini Air hanger and got to the office just as the phone stopped ringing. He turned to look at his nephew, who had followed him in, and shrugged.
“You should've ran, Uncle String.”
“They'll call back if it's important. I'll just wait here and make some coffee,” his uncle replied, filling the coffee pot.
A month earlier Hawke had taken responsibility for Le, who he believed was the son of his brother St. John, an MIA in Vietnam. The evidence strongly suggested that Le was St. John's son, but it hadn't been confirmed and wouldn't be until St. John returned home – if he ever did. It didn't matter to Hawke though; he had grown to love Le like a son, never mind a nephew, and had promised to be his dad if St. John turned out not to be. When Le's guardian, his Aunt Minh, had been killed Archangel had sorted out all the legal documents, so for all intents and purposes Hawke was Le's father.
Hawke had just poured his coffee when the phone rang again.
“I told you so,” he said to Le with a grin as he picked up the phone. “Santini Air.”
“Hey String, where you been?” Dominic Santini asked, “I've been trying you all afternoon.”
“Out shopping for a birthday present for Le's friend,” Hawke replied, mouthing 'it's Dom' to Le, “Where are you? I was expecting you here.”
“Got a flat tyre. It's not worth me coming to the hanger now. Can you lock up for me before you head over?”
“Yeah, no problem Dom. See you in an hour or so, after I've dropped Le off.”


After Hawke had dropped Le off at Mickey's house and had a quick chat with his parents, he got back into the car and sat, thinking. This would be the first weekend he had spent without Le since he had taken him in. As much as Hawke wanted the boy to enjoy the weekend, he really wouldn't have minded if he wanted to come home early.
He was suddenly aware of Mickey's mother looking out of the window at him with an indulgent smile on her face. She knew that Hawke was new to the parenting game and suspected he was worried about Le. He gave her a quick wave and started up the car, driving away faster than was necessary. He briefly wondered if she was still smiling now that she had seen how he drove.

He arrived at Dom's house half an hour later and helped him prepare dinner and after they had eaten they sat in old but comfortable chairs listening to a classical record. Hawke had a far away look on his face and was quieter than usual, if that was possible.
“He'll be OK,” Dominic said.
“Uh, what?” Hawke replied, pretending not to know what the older man meant.
“I remember the first time you stayed away for the weekend. It was only about a month after your parents died and I didn't want you to go. I didn't tell you that of course, although I did confide in St. John. It was him who made me realise that it would do you good, even if the worry of it nearly killed me.”
Hawke was surprised, “I don't remember,” he said, “I don't remember anything much of that time,” he added quietly.
Dom cleared his throat, “I know kid, it was a hard time. Anyway, just before bedtime the phone rang. I rushed to answer it, certain that something terrible had happened to you,” he paused for dramatic effect and Hawke took the bait.
“Well? What had happened? Was I OK?”
Dom smiled knowingly, “Yeah, you were fine. You just rang to say goodnight because you were worried we were missing you,” he laughed loudly, “Le will be just fine, you wait and see. Kids bounce back quicker than you think,” seeing the doubtful look on the younger man's face he added, “why don't you give him a quick ring?”
“I might do that. Make sure he's OK,” he wasn't going to admit that the phone call was purely for his own peace of mind.
Hawke fished the phone number out of his pocket and dialled. Mickey's mum answered and she put Le on the phone to talk to his uncle.
“Hey, Half-Pint, you having fun?”
“Yeah, they've got a puppy and it made a mess on the kitchen floor and Mickey's dad was mad. I'm sure glad Tet is all grown up.”
“Me too,” Hawke said with a laugh, I'll see you on Sunday then.”
“Bye Uncle String, I love you.”
“Love you too.”


It was the early hours of the morning when Dom wearily climbed the stairs to his bedroom. String had gone up hours ago, to sleep in the room that had been his when he was a teenager. Dom had stayed up on the pretence that he wanted to catch a late night TV show. In reality he was in a reflective mood and didn't think he would be able to sleep; String's relationship with Le bore more than a passing resemblance to the relationship he had with String and earlier they had talked more about their past than they ever had before.
As he passed String's room he noticed that the door was ajar and a dim light was showing through the crack. Le had confided in him the week before that both he and String had been having nightmares and Le often ended up sleeping at the foot of his uncle's large bed in a gesture of comfort to one or other of them. Dom wasn't surprised to see that String had left a light on but he hoped it wouldn't be needed.

When Hawke woke he was surprised to see the sun streaming through the window and turned onto his side to look at the clock. Eleven o'clock! He'd slept for over twelve hours. He jumped out of bed, stark naked, and hurried to the top of the stairs.
“Hey Dom. You down there?” he called, wondering why Dom hadn't woken him earlier.
Dom appeared in the kitchen doorway and looked up at Hawke, “Yeah, I'm down here. Which is more than I can say for you,” he grinned as he looked up at his naked friend, “It's a good job Mrs Dawson from next door has left. It's probably been a few years since she's seen a sight like that! I suppose you want breakfast now,” he laughed loudly.
Hawke looked down at himself and then grinned back at his friend, “Oh sorry. Coffee will do seen as it's nearly lunchtime. I'll just grab a quick shower.”

In the kitchen, drinking the strong dark coffee, Hawke felt fully rested for the first time in over a month. If he had dreamed at all, the dreams had been peaceful, none of the wake up screaming and shaking nightmares of the last few weeks. Looking after Le was great but had brought back memories of the last time he had seen his brother in Vietnam and the nightmares, when they came, were vivid and so real it took him a while to get over them. Hawke knew that Le had disturbed nights too, dreaming about those he had lost, his mother, father, aunt and uncle. A flicker of worry crossed his mind as he thought of Le and wondered if his sleep been peaceful too. Mickey's mum had promised to call if there were any problems and she hadn't so he decided to assume that all was well.
A couple of hours later they took sandwiches and cold beer out onto Dom's patio.
“Remember when we used to spend our Saturdays like this?” Dom reflected, “Just the two of us, no problems, no Airwolf, no Firm, no Archangel.”
Hawke was sitting with his eyes closed, enjoying the peace and warm sun.
“Don't jinx it Dom,” he warned, just as the phone rang.
Being in a happy mood Dom answered the phone in Italian, “Pronto.”
“Dominic?”
Dominic sighed, “Hello Michael. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Is Hawke with you?” Michael 'Archangel' Coldsmith-Briggs III asked, ignoring Dominic's tone that clearly said it wasn't a pleasure at all.
“Yeah,” he answered, then shouted, “Hey String, it's the Spotless Wonder for you.” On the other end of the phone Archangel cringed and held the phone away from his ear.
Hawke took the phone from Dominic, “What do you want Michael. We have the weekend off.”
“Cancel your plans, we have a situation that requires a certain lady.”
“Be more specific Michael.”
“Is this phone line secure?”
“You know it isn't,” Hawke was getting impatient.
“Then contact me when you are on a secure channel and I'll fill you in. Just hurry.”
Archangel hung up the phone leaving a frustrated Hawke hanging on the other end.
“Damn him,” he muttered under his breath, and turned towards Dominic who was already bringing in the dishes and locking up.


Marella was looking at Archangel, currently her partner and soul mate and previously her boss.
“You're not going to tell him, are you sir?” her dark eyes boring into his uncovered eye.
He raised an eyebrow, “Sir? Since when did you start calling me sir again?”
“This is business and it's my place to inform you of anything you may have missed.”
“I didn't forget to tell him. I don't want him distracted.”
“He should know, Michael,” she replied in a softer tone.
“It's not our place to tell him. If circumstances change we may have to but until then my decision stands. Understood?”
“Understood. Sir!” she answered defiantly, turning towards Caitlin who had been listening with undisguised interest.

2 hours earlier.

Standing at the jewellery counter waiting to be served was a young couple. At first glance they appeared to be waiting patiently but on closer inspection they were obviously nervous. The man was tapping his foot on the floor to the rhythm of an silent tune and the woman was fiddling with the ring on her left hand. The man being served was taking his time choosing a necklace for his girlfriend and several discarded trays were out on the counter. He finally chose a gold chain with a heart shaped sapphire pendant which he said matched her eyes.
The waiting man rolled his eyes and edged nearer the counter. Eventually the sales assistant turned to the couple and, apologizing for the wait, asked what he could get them.
They drew guns from their pockets and held them in front of their bodies, hiding them from the rest of the shoppers.
“Everything on the counter and more besides,” the young man sneered, “and no alarms or I'll blow your brains out.”
The sales assistant had already placed his foot on the silent alarm button under the counter but proceeded to place the requested jewellery into a bag. He handed it over without a word and let them walk away with it.
As soon as the silent alarm had sounded the elevators were shut down and security guards entered the stairwell on that floor and the one below. They didn't bother with the flight of stairs going up as there was only one more floor, then more stairs to the roof. Unless there was a helicopter on the roof, which they had ascertained there wasn't, there was no escape that way.
The young woman walked backwards towards the door waving her gun from side to side while the man walked after her, carrying the bag of jewellery in one hand and his gun in the other. As they entered the stairwell the waiting guard hesitated a second to make sure it wasn't innocent shoppers leaving the department; the hesitation cost him his life as the woman shot him in the head, blood and brain splattering the wall behind him. A second guard managed a shot which hit the thief in his shooting arm just as his finger was squeezing the trigger. The shot caught the guard in the leg and he let out a yell as he fell down a flight of stairs.
“Ruth, there are more guards below us!” shouted the male thief to his companion, “we'll have to go up.” He slipped the bag into the crook of his left arm and held the wound on his right arm with his left hand; blood was seeping through, some dripping on the floor.
The young woman let him go ahead while she followed, shooting blindly down the stairs at the other guards who had come running at the sound of the shots. She managed to pick up her companion's dropped gun on the way past and tucked it into her pocket. The man paused at the next landing, unsure whether to go up to the roof or open the double doors leading into the top floor department. Ruth made the decision for him, pushing open the doors, her gun proceeding her. There were screams as the customers realised what was happening and they instinctively backed away from her to huddle at the back of the room.
The man placed the bag of stolen jewellery on the floor at his feet and took his gun from Ruth, aiming it at the frightened customers while Ruth pushed a heavy wooden cot in front of the door. Realising that if she could move it then so could the following guards, she filled it with anything she could find, making it as heavy as she could. Then she surrounded it with more cots and baby sized furniture.
With the door safely barricaded the woman turned to face the room ready to put up a fight if necessary. It wasn't. She was faced with about a dozen pregnant women and only a couple of men, all staring in horror at the bleeding man waving a gun at them.
“No one will get hurt if you do as I say,” she told them. “Is anyone medically trained?” Nobody answered but several shook their heads. “Great,” she said sarcastically, “someone get me bandages.” No one moved and she lost her temper, her finger hovering dangerously over the trigger of the gun. “Now!”
A slim, dark haired pregnant woman moved cautiously towards a display of first aid boxes. Taking one off the shelf she held it up the show her.
“Bring it here,” Ruth demanded, “and keep your hands where I can see them.”
She slowly walked towards her captor, box held out in front of her in both hands, and stopped about six feet away.
“Open it.”
She complied, taking out a bandage and unwrapping it. “Now, fix his arm and don't try anything or I'll shoot.”
Kneeling on the floor in front of the injured man, the woman bandaged the wound tightly, needing three bandages before the blood stopped seeping through.
“You need medical attention,” she told him.
Ruth moved quickly towards them, “I didn't say you could speak. Return to your friend,” she pushed her away from the man, causing her to stumble. Hand pressed protectively to her swollen stomach the woman returned to the group and sat down.
“Are you alright?” the woman next to her asked in a clipped English accent.
“I'm fine,” whispered Beth, “don't worry, as soon as your husband realises something is wrong he'll contact Archangel. We'll be out of here before you know it.”