Aim for the Heart

by Ingrid Weaver

  "Yes, I did say that. It turned out you were."

  "You have to believe that you will be too, Sarah. Lemay won't give up."

  "Damn right, he won't." She stroked Hawk's knuckles, careful not to disturb the IV needle in the back of his hand. "He's going to pull through this, and when he does, I'm going to kick his butt from here to Bragg for trying to be such a goddamn hero—" She pressed her lips together, fighting to keep the sob inside.

  Rafe cleared his throat. "Yeah."

  Crepe soles squeaked on the floor. Sarah looked up as the doctor entered the room. He went to the monitors first, then turned to examine Hawk. His movements had the briskness that only came from years of experience. His white hair and the deep creases that underlined his face spoke of experience, too.

  Was that why he wasn't meeting Sarah's gaze? She rose to her feet. "What's Dr. Lemay's condition?" she asked.

  When the doctor finally looked at Sarah, she almost wished he hadn't. He couldn't hide the sympathy in his gaze. "His condition appears to be stable."

  All right. At least it wasn't worse. "When will he wake up?"

  "It's hard to say."

  "That wasn't an answer," Rafe said.

  "I'm sorry. I don't have one." The doctor glanced at Rafe, then back at Sarah. "The scans showed no damage to Dr. Lemay's internal organs, which is good news, but he has a serious skull fracture and there is still a significant amount of swelling on his brain. We're hoping this will subside without surgical intervention, yet even then there's no guarantee."

  Dread knotted Sarah's lungs. She didn't want to ask, but she knew she had to. "No guarantee of what? He's going to live, isn't he?"

  "Yes, he'll live, but I've seen head trauma like this before. In most cases as severe as this…"

  She saw the truth on his face. Oh, God, she was wrong. She didn't want to know.

  "It would be best if you try to prepare yourself," the doctor continued. "There's a strong possibility of brain damage."

  She looked at Hawk. His eyes were closed. She pictured the sharp glint of intellect behind his blue gaze. She curled her fingers around the metal rail at the side of the bed. "No." She shook her head. "No. That can't happen. Don't you know who this man is?"

  "Yes, Captain Fox, I'm aware—"

  "This is Hawkins Lemay. He's a Nobel laureate. He's a gifted scientist and a certified genius. He's got so many degrees he can string half the alphabet after his name."

  "I'm sorry. I wish—"

  "He might not wear a uniform, but he's the most courageous, honorable man I've ever known. He was willing to sacrifice everything he'd worked for to keep people from dying. He was willing to give his life for me…." Her throat closed. She strode around the bed and caught the doctor by the front of his lab coat. "You said it's only a possibility."

  "Yes. A strong—"

  "I don't give a damn what the odds are." She gave the doctor a hard shake. "He's going to be fine. You hear me?"

  A firm hand settled on her shoulder. "Sarah," Rafe said. "Maybe we'd better wait outside."

  She whirled on him. "I won't give up on Hawk. No matter what happens and no matter how long it takes."

  Another man entered the room. It was Major Redinger. "Captain Fox," he said. "Sergeant Marek is right. We should let the doctor do his job."

  The sight of her C.O. should have snapped her to attention. Her father's voice echoed through her memory but she ignored it. She knew what she was. She was a woman in love. "I won't leave Hawk, sir."

  "Neither will we," Redinger said. He looked at the doctor. "How soon can he be moved?"

  * * *

  The metal tray dropped to the floor, wobbled back and forth with an echoing clang, then finally lay still. Footsteps squeaked across the room. There was a muttered curse, a soft scrape, then the footsteps retreated. A whispering slide, like a door swinging shut, then silence…except for a steady beep and music that played softly from somewhere behind him.

  Hawk opened his eyes. He was flat on his back. The ceiling was white. He saw a soft-looking pouch hanging from a hard, shiny pole. A tube came out of the pouch. He moved his gaze down the tube and saw that it disappeared beneath a strip of white tape inside his elbow.

  There was a connection to the facts. It floated just out of his reach, like one of those things when it was cold and there were colors…. A leaf. Yes, that's what it was like. A leaf in a breeze, spiraling in one direction then tumbling in another.

  Hawk closed his eyes and tried to figure it out, but his mind felt sluggish. He was in bed. He wasn't tired exactly. He felt the way he did when he stayed up all night to work out an interesting equation and then fell asleep with his head on his desk. The music was familiar. He struggled to find the pattern to the melody…Beethoven. The ninth symphony. Yes. He listened to that when he worked, but he couldn't be in his lab, could he?

  His ribs itched. So did the place where the tape covered his elbow. And his forehead. It itched, too. He lifted his arm. He heard the…plastic—yes, that was what it was called—the plastic tube thump softly against the metal support. He brought his fingers to his head and scratched.

  There was a ridge of tender, lumpy skin on his forehead. He traced it to his scalp and discovered a strip where his hair felt short and bristly. He inhaled carefully. The air smelled like boiled cotton and disinfectant….

  The facts suddenly congealed. The beeping sound accelerated. This was a hospital room. There must have been an accident. He blinked, braced his elbows against the bed and tried to sit up.

  The door whispered open again. A tall man in a green-and-brown camouflage uniform stood in the doorway. He was talking over his shoulder to someone outside, apologizing for being late for his shift and saying he was going to change the CD to something that rocked. He turned his head toward Hawk and stopped dead.

  More facts fell into place as the man's name clicked in Hawk's brain. Flynn O'Toole. Sarah's friend…Sarah! "Where…"

  Flynn grabbed the door frame and leaned outside. "Get the doctor! Lemay's awake."

  Hawk coughed. His throat was dry. He tried again. "Where?"

  "You're in the base hospital," Flynn said, striding to the bed. "Fort Bragg. We brought you home with us."

  He must be saying it wrong, Hawk thought. He had to try harder to make Flynn understand. "Where…is…Sarah?"

  "On her way." Flynn glanced at the clock on the wall, then grinned at Hawk. "Oh, man, your timing couldn't be better. I won the pool."

  * * *

  Sarah couldn't help it. She ran. One of the nurses smiled and called out as she reached the junction of the corridors and turned the corner past the nurses' station, but Sarah didn't stop. She couldn't get there soon enough.

  He's awake. The word had spread through the team faster than speed dial. Sarah had been on one of the target ranges in the Delta Force compound on the other side of the base when the news had reached her. She was grateful no one had gotten in her way when she'd left.

  A group was already gathered in the hall outside Hawk's door. Rafe was laughing as Norton counted out a handful of bills and handed them to Flynn—the men had placed bets on when Hawk would wake up.

  Esposito was the first to spot her. His gold tooth glinted from his grin as he called to the other men, "The captain's here."

  The men of Eagle Squadron turned to face her. The past few weeks had been the longest in Sarah's life, yet her friends had been there through every minute. She wanted to pause and thank them for their time and their support. She wanted to hug every one of these commandos and tell them they were the best brothers anyone could have.

  But Sarah didn't want to wait another second. Hawk was awake. She hoped they would understand.

  They did. As one, the men straightened up and snapped their hands to their foreheads in a salute.

  It was a moment she knew she would always treasure, one of those blinks in time when everything in her life seemed perfectly right.

  She didn't have to choose whether to cry or to sal
ute. She did both.

  "…still need therapy and further testing. We won't know the extent of the damage for a while, but your initial responses do look promising."

  Sarah recognized the voice that came through the open doorway. It was Dr. Owens, the specialist the Major had convinced to take over Hawk's case.

  "We'll set up a therapy schedule with the staff here," Redinger said. "We'll provide accommodation on the base for you so you can continue with it after you're released from the hospital."

  "First…I need…to see…Sarah."

  Her heart leaped at the sound of Hawk's voice. He spoke slowly, as if each word was an effort, but the deep Southern-tinged tone was the same, and sweeter to her than any music. The soles of her boots skidded on the floor as she caught the door frame to stop her momentum and pivoted into the room.

  At first the Major and the doctor blocked her view of the bed. They turned at the sound of her entrance. They probably said something, but she didn't hear. She brushed past them.

  Hawk wasn't lying on the bed as he had been all the other times she'd seen him here. He was sitting on the edge of it. His broad shoulders stretched the cotton hospital gown he wore, his hair stood up in tufts around his scar where it was beginning to grow back and he was looking straight at her.

  She didn't need to wait for the results of the doctor's tests. This was what she'd prayed for. Hawk's gaze was bright and completely lucid. "Hawk," she breathed.

  He smiled and held out his arms.

  Sarah didn't remember crossing the room. The next thing she knew, she had stepped between Hawk's knees, put her arms around him and was enveloped in his embrace. She felt his breath on her hair, his hands on her back, and she felt as if she'd come home.

  She had so much to say, she didn't know where to start.

  Almost three weeks had passed for her since the escape from the Faith, but only a few minutes had passed for Hawk. Sarah had had more than enough time to sort through her feelings. She'd spent so many nights sitting by Hawk's bedside, stroking his hand, telling him she loved him, she had almost forgotten that he couldn't have heard her.

  The team knew how she felt. So did the staff at the hospital. Even her father knew. He was still in Washington, but she had made a point of calling him to give him regular updates on Hawk's condition. The general hadn't changed—he still hoped for a match with a military man for his little girl—but he was handling the disappointment well, probably because even his pals at the Pentagon had heard about Hawk's heroism.

  There was a rustle of movement behind her. "Captain Fox," Dr. Owens said. "Excuse me, I haven't finished my examination."

  She didn't move away. She only pulled back enough to look at Hawk's face. "How are you feeling?"

  He cupped her cheek in his palm. "Good."

  "Am I hurting you?"

  He caught a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers, then brought it to his nose and inhaled. "Never."

  She moved her hand to his chest. The wires that had hooked him up to the monitors were gone. So was the IV tube. His burns and abrasions had healed well while he'd been unconscious. The regular physical therapy he'd received had kept his muscle tone strong. The doctor had said that Hawk's excellent physical condition prior to the explosion helped contribute to his recovery. Sarah could feel for herself that his strength had returned.

  She brushed her fingers over the healing line on his forehead and followed it to his scalp. "What about this? Does it hurt?"

  "It itches." He paused. "Inside, too. It feels thick. When I think…I scratch it."

  "That's an excellent analogy, Dr. Lemay," Dr. Owens said, moving to the foot of the bed beside them. "The damage is like a healing scab. The more mental stimulation you have, the faster your brain will establish alternate pathways."

  Hawk rolled his eyes toward the doctor. "My head might be…slow. Everything else…works…fine."

  "Yes, it's really quite remarkable." He made a note in the chart he held. "Major Redinger, I have to thank you for bringing Dr. Lemay's case to my attention. I have some colleagues who are also doing research in this field and would be extremely interested in following his progress."

  Hawk returned his gaze to Sarah. The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled with humor. "Damn…scientists," he muttered.

  Her lips trembled with a laugh, but she knew if she let it out it would likely emerge as a sob. She clasped his waist and pressed closer to the bed between his thighs.

  "Captain Fox?"

  She replied to the Major without taking her gaze off Hawk. "Yes, sir?"

  "It starts at 1700 hours."

  "Thank you, Major." She saw Hawk raise one eyebrow. She would explain later about the long-overdue leave she had negotiated. She rubbed her fingers along his hips. "One more thing, Major?"

  "Yes, Captain?"

  "Is it possible for Dr. Owens to continue his discussion with you somewhere else?"

  "I believe that can be arranged."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Excuse me, Captain," the doctor said. "As I mentioned before, I need to—"

  "Dr. Owens," Sarah said. "Would it set back Dr. Lemay's recovery if I kissed him?"

  "Well, no. Any stimulation he could get would actually be quite beneficial."

  Hawk had grasped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers before the doctor had finished speaking. Hoots of encouragement sounded from the men in the hallway. Sarah was dimly aware of the sound of Redinger's voice as he ushered Dr. Owens out of the room, then the soft whoosh of the closing door.

  Hawk's touch felt the same. So did his taste. But his kiss was different. She had always loved the way he kissed. Whether he was being fierce or gentle, whether it was fast or slow, she had always felt his total absorption. This time it was more than that. He kissed her as if they were fitting together, like two halves of the same whole.

  Or was the difference in her? The sense of rightness she'd felt when she'd stepped into his embrace was only growing stronger. She hadn't known what to expect when she'd walked into this room today, but she'd known in her heart that whatever she'd found wouldn't have changed her love for him.

  Hawk trailed kisses across her cheek to her ear, then rubbed her earlobe between his teeth.

  Sarah gasped at the tickle of awareness that shot through her. She drew back to look at him. Just how much stimulation could they risk?

  He slid farther back on the narrow bed and tugged her toward him. She grinned, climbed onto the bed and swung her legs across his lap. There was no lock on the door, but she intended to get as close as the situation allowed. He looped his arms around her shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers. He held her in silence for a while before he spoke again. "So much I want…to say, Sarah. So glad you're…safe."

  "We all owe you our lives."

  "Glad it worked. Jibril…" He swallowed hard. "Faith killed him."

  Sarah had a twinge of uneasiness. His thoughts couldn't be as clear as she'd thought. "No, Hawk. He threatened to kill you, but—"

  "I mean the ship," he said. "The Faith. Pieces of the ship. From the explosion."

  Sarah realized there was nothing wrong with his reasoning. He'd just seen the facts from a different angle. "That's true. I guess you could say Faith killed him. Kind of a fitting irony."

  "I loved her."

  She clasped his head and nodded. She had to remind herself again that only a few minutes had passed for him since those last terrible moments. Jibril's revelations would still be fresh in his mind. So would the wound from them. "Yes. I know. I'm so sorry, Hawk."

  "I love you."

  She stilled. Was it due to his struggle with words? Had he meant what he'd said? She waited.

  "Don't need my…brain to know that," he said. He took her fingers and tapped them over his heart. "Love you in here, Sarah."

  It was too much. Having Hawk back, having him healthy, was all she'd dared ask for. To be gifted with his love as well…

  She tipped his head forward to
brush a kiss over his healing scar, then hung on to his shoulders and smiled into his eyes. "I love you, too."

  His gaze grew brighter. "Wish I was…better."

  "I only expect you to be Hawk."

  Epilogue

  "We need a bigger bathtub."

  Sarah laughed. She'd always considered the old-fashioned claw-footed bathtub in her apartment to be enormous, but not when a six-foot-two, 198-pound man was sharing it with her. She leaned over the edge to retrieve the soap. More water sloshed onto the floor. "Oops."

  Hawk hooked his arm in front of her waist and hauled her back into the tub. He brushed aside a mound of bubbles, then kissed the nape of her neck. "Either that, or you'll have to stop moving around so much."

  "Mmm." Sarah looked at where his knees angled above the water on either side of her. Moisture trickled down his thigh, flattening the dark hair against his skin, gleaming over a temptingly taut curve of muscle. He'd started jogging again last week as soon as the doctor had cleared him to resume his normal activities.

  Of course, there were some activities he'd resumed long before that. As a matter of fact, the day he'd been released from the hospital they had barely made it through the apartment door before they'd recommenced one of them. She let the soap thud to the bottom of the tub and dragged her fingernail along his thigh. "Okay, I can try not to move, but I'm not so sure about you."

  "Aha." He turned his hand to cup her breast. "You know I can't resist a challenge."

  "Just one of the things I love about you, Hawk."

  "I can't begin to list the things I love about you, Sarah." He sat forward, resting his chin on her shoulder as he lifted his hand. The upper curve of her breast appeared above the surface of the water. "But if pressed, I suppose I could name one."

  "Only one?"

  He moved his other hand and did the same for her other breast. "Maybe two." He slicked his fingertips over her nipples. "Fascinating. Here's three and four. This could take a while."

  Sarah curled her hand around his leg. They had made love before they'd gotten out of bed that morning, but the familiar tingles were starting again. "You'd better count faster, darling. Your session with Dr. Owens starts in less than an hour."