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Dreams	By : Bethhawke Category: 1 through F > Airwolf Views: 991 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Airwolf, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Dreams
- 2-Dreams Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Dreams by Bethhawke

She was in his room, watching him.
He could sense her, smell her perfume. He breathed in deeply,
revelling in the scent of her, the scent that had lingered in his
bedroom for a few days after she had died, before gradually fading
away. Died? She was dead, she couldn't be here.

Stringfellow Hawke
opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was beating so
loud that all he could hear was the sound of his blood pumping in his
veins. He looked around, confused, disorientated. She was here, he
was so sure she was here. He had sensed her like he had sensed her
every night for the last week.

He put his head in
his hands and wept.

When he woke again
it was morning, late morning by the look of the sun shining in
through the windows. He hadn't bothered to draw the curtains the
night before, little details like that just weren't important any
more. Exhausted, he crawled out of bed and into the bathroom. He
relieved himself then staggered back to his bedroom to get dressed.

As night fell he
started to feel nervous and poured himself a large glass of whiskey
to calm his nerves. He'd had the same dream for a week now and even
in the light of day the uneasy feeling of her watching him wouldn't
go away. If he believed in ghosts he might think he was being
haunted, but he didn't believe in ghosts. No, he definitely
didn't believe in ghosts.

Maybe he was going
mad; he did believe that was a possibility.

Slowly the external
heat from the fire, and the internal heat from the whisky caused him
to fall asleep.

She was standing beside him, her
hand stretched out towards him. He took it and she led him upstairs
to the loft, to his bed. He felt her in his arms, breathed in the
scent of her perfume and lost himself in pleasure.

He woke up
screaming her name, drenched in sweat, the bed covers tangled around
him.

“Gabrielle!”
But it was useless, he knew she was gone, he had no sense of her.

The sound of an
approaching helicopter reached his ears and he grabbed the jeans he
had worn the day before, worn for the last week he realised as he
noticed how grubby they looked. He put them on anyway, it was too
much of an effort to find clean ones.

He reached the
front door just before Archangel, and opened it for the man in white.

Archangel limped
inside, relying heavily on his cane, and drew in a breath when he saw
the state of Hawke. He was unshaven, dressed in dirty jeans and even
from where he stood he could tell he was in need of a shower. He
looked like a broken man which, Archangel realised with a start, was
exactly what he was.

“Did you get
any sleep last night?” he asked the younger man, his voice
concerned.

Hawke shook his
head, “Dreams,” he stated cryptically.

Archangel sat down
and nodded sympathetically, “Nightmares about her dying? I can
sympathise, my nights have been disturbed recently too.”

“No. Not
nightmares. Dreams. She's here. I sense her, I smell her perfume.”
Hawke was tired and hungover and realised he was talking too much. He
couldn't even begin to explain how real the dreams were, didn't want
to.

Archangel realised
it was useless trying to talk to Hawke. After his brief communication
he had shut down and any attempts to draw him into conversation had
failed. He left, with a promise that he would return when the other
man was feeling a bit better.

The day dragged on.
Hawke sat with Tet in front of the fire, just staring into space,
taking the occasional sip of whisky. As the shadows in the cabin
started to deepen the uneasy feeling washed over him again.

“Gabrielle,”
he whispered, before falling into a restless sleep.

She was standing in front of him
again, just like the night before. He tried to focus, but there was
something wrong with his eyes.

“Stringfellow,” she
whispered, sitting down beside him.

“Gabrielle?”

“Hush” she wrapped her
arms around him and kissed him lightly, seductively. He hesitated
before returning her kiss. Something was wrong but he couldn't
remember what.

“Don't fight it,
Stringfellow,” she breathed against his mouth.

He stopped fighting and let his
emotions take over as he gave himself to her.

Dawn was breaking when she unwrapped
herself from him and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

“Goodbye, Stringfellow,”
she breathed huskily before leaving.

He woke with a
start and opened his eyes to see Dominic Santini standing above him,
staring at his damp, naked body.

“You OK
String?” he asked. Hawke looked at him blankly. “String?”

“Where is
she?”

“Who?”
Dominic looked around but the cabin was empty apart from the two of
them.

“Gabrielle.
She was here.”

“Oh, String,”
Dominic's voice shook with emotion, “she wasn't here. She's
dead. Remember? Moffett killed her.”

“She was
here,” Hawke was adamant, then he closed his eyes and the grief
threatened to overwhelm him as he remembered, “She said
goodbye. She isn't coming back.”
- 1
- 2
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Dreams