Journey into Darkness

Caitlin pushed the front door open with her foot, juggling the bags of groceries. “Michael?” she called out. It wasn't like him not to come and help her. *Perhaps he was on the phone?*

She went into the kitchen, lowering the bags onto the counter. The phone was on the hook, if he was using it, he was on the extension in the den. “Michael?”

It occurred to her that after the previous night's outing, he might be in the garage, trying to figure out how to start the Ferrari without her help, She had parked by the front door, so if he was, she wouldn't have seen him. She started putting perishables into the refrigerator. Caitlin was almost finished when a flicker of movement outside on the deck caught her attention. She looked up. Michael. No, not Michael. * Archangel.* In full-on white regalia.

She quickly stowed the rest of the meat. Quietly, she joined him on the deck, coming up beside him. *Archangel,* she confirmed. Three piece suit, white silk tie, panama hat. His arm even hung in a white sling. The only thing missing was the cane, and she spotted that leaning against the railing. “Michael?”

He looked at her, finally. “I had company while you were gone.”

She had been out for a few hours, running errands before stopping for groceries. “Oh?”

“Zeus called shortly after you left. He asked if he could stop in.”

That explained the suit. Zeus hadn't visited Michael -- not in the hospital, not since. Until today. She doubted that it was a social call. “What did he want?” Whatever it was, it wasn't good. She could tell that much.

“He's talked to the doctors. Sick leave is over. He wants me back at work.” Michael had turned back to stare into the distance.

That should be a good thing, but apparently it was not. She felt the lump lodge in her throat. “Doing what?” If they had offered him his old job back, he wouldn't be out here.

“Liaison.”

“Liaison to who?”

“Congress. The White House. Foreign Intelligence. Vendors. Whoever needs to be finessed. The Firm is looking for a glorified PR agent.” He turned toward her, scowling. “The position is based in Washington.”

Washington. She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. If he went to DC, she might never see him again. “What are you going to do?”

Michael shook his head. “I don't know. He wants an answer next week”

“What happens if you don't take the job?”

“I'm out. Zeus offered me early retirement on medical grounds, if I wanted it.”

“It's an option, I suppose,” Caitlin offered.

He snorted. “Retirement? You know how well I sit around and do nothing, Within six months, they'd have to lock me in a padded cell.”

“Could you get a job working for someone else?”

He appeared to consider it. “Probably. There are always security positions available in the private sector.”

She raised an eyebrow, remembering. Ken Sawyer had been a former Firm employee. Michael must have followed her thinking. “They seldom get our best people.”

“The committee won't give you your old job back? Airwolf?”

He shook his head. “My job no longer exists. The committee split up the division. As to Airwolf -- it's Jason Locke's, now.”

“I'm so sorry, Michael.”

He shrugged. “Nothing I didn't expect. It was over the day I put in for vacation. I knew Zeus would find a way to get rid of me the second I was out of sight.” Michael sighed. “I had hoped that if I came back with St. John, Hawke might be able to... Doesn't matter. It's done.”

She understood, now. Michael had known that keeping his word to String would cost him his position. It would cost him control of Airwolf. Ultimately, it had cost him even more.

“It was worth it,” he said, as if reading her mind. “We got those men back. They're home and safe.”

Was it? She wasn't sure any more. Michael looked so lost. Caitlin moved closer to his side, reaching out to wrap her arm around him. There were no words, she simply held him.

He leaned into her, face buried in her hair, his arm around her back. She felt him shift his position, and she looked up. His lips brushed her forehead. She tipped her head back further, and those lips met hers, hard and insistent.

Abruptly, he pulled away, turning his back and stepping away from her. He took a deep breath. “Damn it. I'm sorry, Caitlin. I promised myself – I promised you. I swore this wouldn't happen. I will not allow myself to take advantage of you again.”

*Take advantage?* “What do you mean, Michael?” she asked quietly.

He looked back at her over his shoulder. “You came to me looking for comfort and support. For a friend. And I...” Shaking his head, he looked away.

She came up behind him, laying her hand gently on his back. “Michael, I may have been looking for someone to comfort me, but I certainly wasn't looking for a friend.”

Michael turned, staring at her. “You agreed that it hadn't been a good idea.” It was as much a question as a statement.

“Of course it wasn't a good idea. You were barely out of the ICU. You almost died. I had no business seducing you.”

He stood frozen. “That's what you meant? You didn't regret...?”

“I wanted you, Michael.” She chanced the words. “I still do.”

She wasn't sure which one of them moved, but suddenly they were in each other's arms, pressed together. He wrapped his good arm around her, lifting her off her feet.

“Michael, you can't--” she started to protest.

“Wanna bet?” He started to carry her into the house. “Hang on.”

Realizing that he had no intention of putting her down, she did as he asked, careful to keep her weight to his left side. He pushed the door open and carried her inside, not letting her down until they were beside his bed. Michael crossed the room in quick strides, reaching up to pull the thick drapes before returning to her.

Caitlin thought at first that he had darkened the room so she wouldn't see the scars. Her protest went unvoiced as he pulled his glasses off and tossed them onto the night stand. *The reason he wanted the darkness.* The panama hat followed the glasses, and he slipped the sling over his head. She started to unbutton her shirt. He covered her hands with his own. “I want to do that. Please.”

He kissed her as he released the buttons, moving slowly, deliberately. She knew it wasn't easy for him, he still had trouble with things that required fine motor control, things like tight buttonholes. He released the final button, and slipped the shirt from her shoulders, letting it puddle at her feet. Michael lowered his head, his mustache scratching the tender skin of her throat as he trailed kisses down her neck.

She inhaled, her hands fisting the fine cloth of his jacket. “Let me take this off.”

“Go ahead.” He breathed into her ear.

Caitlin eased the jacket from him, dropping it across the chair. The vest was next. She loosened his tie, the silk cool against her fingertips as it joined the pile. As she opened his shirt, his hands fumbled behind her.

“Damn, I used to be able to do this one handed.” He made a joke of it, but she heard the annoyance that crept into his voice.

She laughed, and reached back to release her bra. “How's that?”

“Better.”

She could feel that he was already hard. She rubbed her thigh against him, and was rewarded by a strangled moan. She felt his shudder. “Oh God, Cait.” His hands went to her pants, easing them down while she released his belt.

Suddenly impatient, he kicked off the remainder of his clothes and shoes even as she removed hers.

“How do you want to do this?” she asked, uncertain of just what his physically capabilities were.

“On your back,” he whispered. “I want this to be special.”

She moved to the middle of the bed, and he laid beside her, taking his weight on his left side. His lips were all over her, his mustache brushing at her skin, his right hand caressing her breast, tugging at the nipple. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched her. Gasping, she ran her nails lightly over him, teasing, cautious of his shoulder.

His hand slid down her stomach, eased between her legs. She cried out as he fingered her.

Michael's breath was hot on her neck “Tell me what feels good. Tell me what you want.”

There was no question. It was what she had wanted since that first night. She licked suddenly dry lips. “I want you inside me.”

He slipped one long finger into her. It wasn't what she had meant, but it felt too good to complain. A second finger joined the first, and they twisted inside her, even as his thumb continued it's slow, methodical stroking. Electricity pulsed, arcing through her. It was more than her mind could process. She closed her eyes and let go, allowing the sensations to overtake her.

As her breathing slowed, Caitlin realized his fingers were gone, replaced by something thicker and more substantial. He was above her, taking most of his weight on his elbow. She wanted this man, more than she had ever wanted anything. She looked into his eyes, seeing the fire and passion there. There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted this just as much as she did. Michael smiled down at her. “Ready for round two?”

Caitlin returned the smile. “Oh yeah.” She moved with him as he toyed with her nipple, breathed into her ear. It felt so good. Her senses were already heightened, her body already attuned to him. It felt as if the moment lasted forever, but it didn't take long. She came hard, her muscles contracting in waves as she arched against him, calling out his name.

Somehow, he was still hard, still inside her. “How could you...” she started to ask, then decided it didn't matter. Her first orgasm had been as strong as any she had ever felt, the second had exceeded anything she had even imagined possible. She feared the third might kill her – and she had absolutely no doubt that there would be a third. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her, wanting to feel his weight on her. She was close, she knew he was close. “Come with me, Michael. Come with me.” She chanted the words into his ear.

It was everything she expected, and more. Both of them sated, Michael slipped off of her, collapsing against the pillows, breathing heavily. She rolled onto her side, reaching over to caress his face. “You okay?”

He reached up and took her hand. “Yeah. Just spent. It's been a long time since I made love like that.”

*Made love.* A figure of speech, or did he mean the words? “You're still healing.”

“This is a hell of a lot more fun than physical therapy.” His thumb rubbed the back of her knuckles, stopping as he brushed against the ring. He chuckled. “Are you still wearing that silly thing?”

Caitlin snatched her hand away, smiling. “It's pretty, and I like it.” It was more than that. He had given it to her. It might not be real, but somehow, it felt like it bound him to her.

“Damned magpie. Collecting shiny things,” he teased. He took her hand again, grinning. “So, was I any good?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That was beyond anything I could ever have imagined,”

Michael chuckled. “You do know how to stroke a man's ego.” He pulled her against him. “Happy?”

Was she happy? *No, she was scared.* She hated to break the mood, but she needed to know. “What are you going to tell Zeus? Are you going to take that job?”

He hesitated. “I don't know.” He was silent for a few minutes. “What about you? What are your plans?”

Caitlin bit her lip. He wanted to know her plans. That could only mean that she wasn't a part of his. “I don't know,” she answered. “I haven't really thought about it. Maybe I'll go home to Texas and see if the Highway Patrol will hire me back.”

Michael idly stroked her arm. “What about Santini Air? I don't know Jo or St. John, but it seems like they would be grateful to have someone familiar with the operation. If not-- I do know Locke . You've got more experience with Airwolf than any of them, he'd make you part of the team in a second.”

She shook her head. “I can't. One day I was out... I thought I'd stop by the hanger and pick up my final paycheck. I saw the stains on the concrete pad where that helicopter... “ She inhaled sharply, fighting her emotions. “I thought I was going to be sick. I turned around and ran. I can't go back there, Michael. I just can't.” Just the thought of it was nearly enough to make her gag.

“It's okay. I know. I may not remember Red Star, but even so, one trip back there was enough.” He wrapped his arm around her. “What about Airwolf?”

“Airwolf was String and Dom. And you. There's nothing for me there.”

*Was that a sigh of relief that she heard?* “How do you feel about Washington?” he asked.

*Was he asking her...?* She had to be sure. “Washington?”

“Come to Washington with me.” This time there was no mistaking his meaning.

“You're taking the job?”

“Depends. I am if you'll come with me.” He stroked her cheek. “I'm not sure I'm ready to walk away from the Firm, but I hate DC. Too many politicians and the weather sucks. Most importantly, it's lonely as hell.”

Caitlin smiled. “I don't quite think you can still justify a nursemaid.”

“I don't want you there as my nursemaid.”

She wanted to be with him. It didn't matter where. But, she needed her independence. She wouldn't let him support her. “I don't see myself as a kept woman.”

He laughed. “Neither do I.” She could see that he was considering it. “I have an acquaintance who runs a charter service. Ernie Fox. Flies VIPs around the DC area. The Firm occasionally uses him. He'd hire you in a heartbeat.”

“You think?”

“You're a damned good pilot, Cait.” He paused. “I've got a brownstone in Georgetown, but if you're not ready to move in with me, we can find you an apartment--”

“I've been living with you for the last month and a half. Why ruin a good thing?” She snuggled drowsily against him.

Michael grinned, yawning. “Yeah. I'd hate to do that.”

Caitlin woke perhaps an hour later. Michael was spooned against her back. From the sound of his breathing, he was asleep. She didn't want to wake him. He got far too little sleep. Besides, it felt good to lie against him, his arm draped over her.

She might have dozed again; the change in his breathing roused her. She rolled over, saw that his eyes were open, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” His voice was still thick with sleep. He kissed her forehead. “What time is it?”

She looked over at the digital clock. “Around eight,”

“Hungry?” He sounded more awake.

“Not really.”

“Horny?” Humor crept into his voice.

She chuckled. “You're impossible.”

He brushed a stray hair from her eyes. “Insatiable.”

“Same thing.” Caitlin wanted to do something for him, something to make him feel as good as he had made her feel. She reached across the night-stand and retrieved his glasses. “Put these on.”

“What are you planning?” As he asked, he did as she had requested.

“I want to see what I'm doing.” She reached up and turned on the lamp, then opened the top drawer of the night-stand. Caitlin pulled out the bottle of lotion she knew was there. Part of Michael's physical therapy had been massaging his arm, it was supposed to help stimulate the nerves. That wasn't what she planned to use the lotion for now.

She looked at him as she poured the oil into her hand. *So many scars.* At least three separate incisions on his knee. Rectangles of discolored skin on his thigh where they'd taken the grafts for his back. More surgery to his stomach and shoulder. The latest wounds, new skin still pink. They hadn't bothered her before. *But she hadn't been in love with him, then.* “Roll over,” she whispered.

Michael eased himself onto his stomach. Caitlin began to work the oil into his back. As bad as the marks were, she knew that the worst damage was that which couldn't be seen, the wounds Stoner had inflicted. *How much could one man take?* She choked back the thought.

He rolled onto his back, reaching up to wipe away the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she apologized.

“It's all right.” Michael thumbed away one last tear. His voice was gentle, understanding. “Turn off the light. You don't have to do this.”

She shook her head. “No. I have to. It's part of you. Part of what makes you who you are.” The burns, Stoner, his father, even the Zebra Squad. They were all a part of what he was. Caitlin reached for his hand, held it. A part of her was afraid to say the words, uncertain how he would react. “I love you. I want to be with you. But you don't just come with baggage. You come with an entire set of monogrammed luggage and a steamer trunk. I have to find a way to deal with that.”

He pulled her down to him, kissed her, tasted her. He finally pulled back. “I love you, too, Caitlin O'Shannessy. We'll make it work. We'll figure it out. Together.”

She dipped her head, brought her lips to his. *He loved her.* That was all that mattered. She echoed his words. “Yeah. We'll figure it out. Together.”

END
(Will there be a sequel? Maybe. Stay tuned.)