Breathing Space

Sara started to move across the room to where he stood in the shadows. "Here, let me help you," Sara said. "Leave them," Ian said hoarsely. "But you'll never find them all and…," she continued. "Just leave them, Sara," he said again, his voice even rougher than before. Sara stopped, trying to see the look on his face but it was too dark in the room. "Okay," she said softly. When he didn't say anything else, Sara began to think that she'd misread all the signals. She started to get embarrassed again and a little angry. He'd been doing that to her all day, being just unpredictable enough to keep her constantly a little off balance. Sara wasn't normally the aggressor in a relationship but he wasn't taking the lead so she'd figured…She ran a hand through her hair, "Oh, hell..," she thought. Aloud, she said, "Look, Ian, forget it. You don't have to go to bed with me. I'm sorry if I…"

Ian moved closer to her and raised his hand, "Sara, stop. There are few things in this world that I want more than to make love with you. I've dreamed of you saying those words so many times that when you finally said them, it didn't seem real. So many nights, I've stood in front of Irons' portrait of Joan with your face and…" he trailed off. "And what?" she asked. He dropped his head, "Done more than you really want to know." Sara shrugged and said, "Okay, then, I don't get it. What's the problem?" He turned away from her and said very softly, "Me. I'm the problem. I haven't had much experience with this. I'm scared to death that I'll disappoint you. I can't…I don't…," he vaguely waved one hand at his side and his voice trailed off again. She went to him and gently rubbed his warm back with her hand, "Stop worrying. You can't disappoint me. Believe me, the visual alone has got me halfway there. It's not brain surgery, you know. Just let it happen and we'll find our own rhythm," she whispered to him. Ian turned back to her with such yearning in his dark eyes that it took her breath away.

Sara took his hand and led him over to the fire. She sank down on the rug and pulled Ian down beside her. She slid her hands up under his t-shirt and over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. Under her right hand, she felt his heartbeat skip once and then start to race. The shirt was in the way. Sara moved her hands back out and, catching the hem, pulled it over his head while he raised his arms to make it easier for her. Resting her hand on his chest again, Sara leaned forward and licked his right nipple with her tongue – teasing and sucking it until it was swollen. Ian gasped and buried his hand in her thick, soft hair. He raised her head and pulled her face to his, kissing her feverishly. Sara just had enough time to think, "He's really got the tongue action down already," before her thoughts spiraled away on what he was making her feel.

Ian lifted her to sit across his lap, facing him. Under her bottom, Sara could feel that he was already rock hard. She wrapped her legs around his back and her arms around his neck. When she raised her head to sigh, he gently nuzzled her throat, his beard tickling her. She felt his hands move up under her shirt and slide over her bare back. "God, your skin is oft,oft," he whispered, "You smell so good." She tangled her hands in his hair and raised his head to look in his eyes. They were glazed and he was utterly lost. Sara gave his hair a little tug and said, "Hey, pal. We've barely started here."

His eyes cleared and he smiled back at her. "That's better," she said, leaning forward and catching his bottom lip between her teeth. She gave it a little nip that turned into another long kiss. When they separated, Ian breathlessly said, "I want to feel you against me." Sara raised her arms up over her head. He pulled off her shirt and held her close. This time, Sara moaned aloud. The sensation of the hair on his chest rubbing against her bare breasts was incredible.

Ian dropped one hand to the small of her back to support her and gently pushed Sara away from him with the other so that he could move his mouth to her breast. His lips covered her right nipple. He sucked the sensitive nub of skin, teasing it with his teeth and tongue until it was erect and aching, and she was almost out of her mind with wanting more of him. By the time, he'd finished giving the same single-minded attention to her left breast, Sara was pressing and rubbing herself against the throbbing erection beneath her. Ian made a noise like a deep growl in the back of his throat and moaned softly, "Sara, please…I can't…stop it…"

All attempts at finesse had now abandoned her. Sara just wanted to feel him inside her. And through the haze of red heat that seemed to fill her vision, she could see that Ian wa clo close to losing it that she wasn't sure they'd even make it that far. She pushed him backward to the floor and rolled to the side. She yanked off the sweatpants she was wearing and ripped her panties in half in her frenzy to be rid of them. At the same time, Ian kicked off his pants and blindly reached out for her.

Sara pushed him flat and moved on top of him. She was so wet that she slid across the hard muscles of his stomach. Ian caught hold of her, moving his hands to her sides to support her. His eyes were shut tight and it looked like he was using every bit of will he possessed just to hold it together. Sara rested her hands on his chest and literally impaled herself on him. Just as she did, Ian's eyes flew wide open - shining a deep tawny gold in the firelight - and locked with hers. He cried out her name and Sara raised her hand to gently stroke his cheek. She whispered, "Try to hold on if you can."

Sara began rocking gently, drawing Ian deeper inside her with each stroke. His breathing was ragged and his gaze never left hers. Sara leaned forward and tightened her muscles inside to get more friction. That almost pushed Ian over the edge. He shut his eyes, turned his face into her hand where it still cupped his cheek, and whispered desperately, "Oh God, Sara, please, please…I can't hold back much longer." And that aching need in his voice was what did it for her. She could feel the pressure building until she thought she might die of it. Sara dug her nails into Ian's chest as she arched her body and cried out, "Now." She heard him cry her name again and felt him let go at the same time. The white, hot heat of him exploded deep inside her right before she collapsed limp onto his chest.

Some while later, beneath her ear, Sara realized that Ian's heartbeat was finally slowing back to a rational pace. When she could manage it, she raised her head off his shoulder to look at his face. His eyes were shut and he was still breathing heavily through slightly parted lips. He looked incredibly beautiful. She moved her hand to his shoulder and found that he was trembling. Sara planted a gentle kiss on the sweat-matted hair of his chest and whispered, "Are you okay?" He opened dazed eyes and whispered breathlessly, "I wouldn't have believed that anything in the world could feel like that." She smiled and said, "We haven't even warmed up yet." He made a sound like purring that she could feel vibrate through his chest and said, "I think that you may just kill me, Sara, but that I'll die a happy man."

Sara started to shift to roll beside Ian and he slid his arms behind her to hold her in place, "Don't go yet," he be. Sh. She laughed, "I'm not going far." "Anywhere else is too far away," he said. Sara looked to the fireplace behind him. "You know the fire's burning down and I'm starting to get a little cold here," Sara said. That did it. Ian immediately rolled them to the side and gently pulled out of her. He dragged the afghan off the sofa and tucked it around her. "I'll put more wood on the fire right now," he said.

Sara leaned backed against the sofa wrapped in the warm afghan and watched him work. He was concentrating on building the fire back into a blaze and had no idea that she was watching his every move until she softly said, "You know this is really strange. For months I waited to see what your hand looked like without the damn glove and now you’re here in front of me in all your glory. Bathed in firelight, no less." Ian froze. She could tell by the look on his face that he'd forgotten that he was naked. Then he blushed and started looking for cover. "No, don't," Sara said extending her hand to him, "Comee. Ce. Come under my afghan with me."

Ian took her hand and settled himself next to her under the afghan. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up against him. "Mmmmm, nice," she sighed. He kissed the top of her head and said, "You know we'd probably be a lot more comfortable in the bed." "Yeah, I know," she replied, "But it's all the way in the next room." She started drawing lazy circles on his stomach with her index finger. Sara turned herself toward him and pushed the afghan down to get a better view. "I really like this little path of hair that starts right below your belly button and goes…," she teased, following that trail with her hand. Ian was suddenly having trouble breathing again.

"Give me your hand," she said. It took him a moment or two to respond because he was so lost in what she was doing to him. Then, he moved his arm from around her shoulder and put his left hand in hers. The Witchblade on her wrist swirled with vivid streaks of hot pink and magenta, as if it was enjoying all the action. She moved his hand down her stomach, then lower between the soft, wet folds, and guided his finger to show him how she liked to be stroked. He got the rhythm that she wanted in seconds. Seconds after that, Sara was straining and bucking against his hand, crying out his name. Ian watched her with a rapt expression on his face, his own pleasure forgotten.

He reached across Sara who was now leaninaklyakly against his side and grabbed the afghan. He tossed it past her to land on the floor in front of the fire and gently laid Sara backwards on it. Stretching out beside and above her, Ian leaned over to place soft, warm kisses under her chin, across her neck, and down each breast. She made a sound that was a cross between a purr and a sigh, and raised a hand to bury her fingers in his hair. "You're so beautiful, Sara. More beautiful even than I imagined," he whispered, his words muffled against her stomach where he was still delivering hot kisses. His kisses continued downward until his tongue found the spot and stroke that drove her crazy. He kept going until she was almost in a frenzy again to have him.

And the fact that he had been able to drive Sara to that level of excitement was a powerful aphrodisiac for Ian. He was more than ready to move up into her outstretched arms. He raised himself above her, balancing on his powerful arms. He shifted his body a little to better position himself and then very, very slowly started to enter her. But Sara just couldn't wait any longer and she arched up against him, wrapping her arms and legs tight around him. Suddenly, he was deep inside her scalding heat. He groaned softly and leaned down to kiss her lips as their bodies began to move together again in a building need for release. That came soon in a blinding burst of pleasure that left them both limp and sated.

Ian slowly rolled beside her and pulled Sara into his arms, wrapping the afghan around her again and gently kissing her forehead. She snuggled tight up against him. When he was able to breathe again, Ian picked up Sara and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her in the middle of the big bed, crawled in beside her, and pulled the warm quilts up over them both. Sara fell asleep with her head on Ian's shoulder and her fingers tangled possessively in his hair.

Sarah stred hed her leg, feeling warm and comfortable. That's when she felt the leg that it was twined around – one much longer than her own and hard-muscled. Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up, pulling a quilt high on her chest. Ian Nottingham lay in the bed next to her, sound asleep and looking very relaxed. Sara's mind raced through the events of the previous night. Part of her was appalled that she was in bed with Nottingham; and part of her wanted to do it all over agai
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She slipped out of bed, silently willing Ian not to wake up. She just wasn't ready to deal with him and what had happened between them just yet. Tiptoeing into the living room, she found the clothes that she'd worn yesterday strewn with Ian's across the floor. Her panties were a total loss, ripped completely in half. Before she could block it out, her traitorous mind replayed an image of her pushing Ian down to the floor and ripping the panties off to get to him. She'd just have to do without them. She pulled on the sweatpants, rolling up the bottoms, and then pulled the matching sweatshirt over her head. She really, really needed a shower but she didn't want to take a chance on the sound of the water waking him up before she was ready to face him.

Trying not to make a sound, Sara went into the kitchen. She desperately wanted some coffee. She held out for few minutes before she couldn't stand it any longer. She brewed a fresh pot of coffee, working as quietly as she was able. There was still no sound from the bedroom. "Thank you," she thought as she sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee. In her head, a little voice kept saying, "Oh god, what am I going to do? Oh god, what am I going to do? Oh god, what am I going to do?" She took a long pull of coffee and said out loud, "Okay, Pezzini, cut it out right now. This is ridiculous."

"After all," she thought, "Nottingham has been telling me for months how much he lusts after me. So, last night I lusted after him right back. We scratched each other's itches, so to speak. Tomorrow, he gets the all clear from Irons and we head back to the real world and things go back to the way they were. Okay, so maybe we're not so formal with each other. I mean, I know how he tastes now and what his eyes look like when he's just starting to lose it and how he gets that little catch in his voice when you…– STOP – do not go there!! Oh god, what am I going to do?"

Sara finished her coffee in two big gulps and went to the coffeemaker to get more. She'd just finished pouring it and put the pot back on the warmer when his arms slid around her waist from behind. She felt the hard length of his body along her back as his arms pulled her tightly against him. Ian's face nuzzled the top of her head. He kissed her hair and said softly, "Hi." Sara didn't move a musc"Hi"Hi," she cautiously responded. He moved lower to plant a gentle kiss on the side of her neck, his beard tickling her. His breath felt warm and sweet on her neck when he whispered, "I love you."

Her full coffee cup slipped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers and shattered on the kitchen floor as she thought, "Oh, god, Sara, what have you done?"

Ian pulled Sara out of the way of the scalding coffee with dazzling speed. He wasn't quite fast enough to spare himself though. The hot coffee had splashed over his bare foot before he could avoid it and the clean sweatpants that he'd just put on that morning were now stained halfway up the leg. Sara was ashamed of herself but she was truly grateful for the diversion. She looked down at his foot, which was already turning fiery red, and said, "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. Go on into the living room and wait for me. I'll clean this up and get the first aid kit so that we can put some of that antiseptic ointment on your foot."

Ian laughed and said, "It's nothing," as he reached out to touch her cheek. Sara caught his hand before it could touch her and held it still, "Please, Ian. That must hurt like hell. Just go on in and wait for me. I'll be there in a minute." It had come out a little more sharply than she'd intended and he studied her face for a moment before he quietly replied, "Okay," and went back into the living room.

Sara took her time cleaning up the spilled coffee. Then, she got the ointmeut out of the first aid kit, which she'd len thn the kitchen after fixing his cut the day before. She knew that she was stalling but she couldn't help it. She didn't know what she was going to say to him. She didn't know how she could explain to him how she felt without hurting him badly. When she looked up, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, "Sara, are you alright? Is something wrong?" he asked. She smiled back at him too brightly, "Nope. I was just on my way back in."

Sara passed by Ian to go sit on the rug by the sofa but, when she moved toward the fireplace, she realized that the scent of what had happened between them there the night before was overpowering. Ian's t-shirt and pants still lay in crumpled heaps on the rug. She veered back toward the kitchen saying, "You know I think the light's probably better to do this out here." Before she could reach the kitchen doorway, Ian brought her to a halt facing him. He held her still, his hands on both her arms just above the elbows, and said, "Sara, stop this. Stop running away. Just tell me what's wrong."

Sara sighed. She took his hand and led him back to the rug. She picked his wrinkled clothes up off the floor and tossed them on the chair. She glanced over at Ian. He was staring down at the rug and traveling through his own set of memories from the night before. "Sit down," she said. He gave her one long, searching look before he sat on the rug but he didn't say a word. She sat down by his outstretched foot and squeezed the ointment onto the palm of her hand, "Did you ever see Shogun?" she asked.

Her question caught him completely off-guard and he actually winced when she rubbed the ointment on his burned foot, "I read the book," he replied, "It's over there in the bookshelves, I think. Why?" When she finished, Sara rubbed her palm on her shirt to get rid of the excess salve, "Umm," she said, "I caught reruns of the miniseries. The ship captain – what was his name?" "Blackthorn, I think," Ian said, wondering where she was going with this. He laid down on the rug perpendicular to her and rested his head in her lap. "Yeah, that's it," Sara said, as she began absently stroking his hair.

"Blackthorn's got this thing going with a Samurai chick…but she's married and, in their world, their affair would dishonor both her husband and the Shogun they're both pledged to. The kind of stuff that a good Samurai might kill herself over." Ian shut his eyes and gave himself over to the feeling of her hand in his hair, "But they're desperately in love," he said dreamily. Sara let that pass. "Anyway," she said, "they go on this journey together, away from their real world with all its obligations." Where it rested against her thigh, she felt Ian's shoulder tense. "And," she continued, "they make this promise to each other. They'll be together – no holds barred – until they reach the last bridge before Yedo. That's the place where everything has to go back to the way it's got to be. When they reach the last bridge before Yedo, this beautiful thing that they shared will never have happened except in their memories and no one will ever know."

Sara stopped stroking his hair and gently rested her hand against his cheek, "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, Ian?" she a. Ia. Ian abruptly sat ue die didn't say anything for a long while and Sara just kept her mouth shut, waiting to see what he would do. His back was to her so she hadn't a clue what was going on inside his head. "Yes, I understand," he said, not even trying to hide the pain in his voice, "At the last bridge into the city, it's over. It never happened between us. I go back to being Mr. Irons' 'lap dog' and you go back to being a police detective who's in love with a comatose Irishman." He shifted to face her and the naked hurt in his eyes made her reach for him. But he pulled back from her touch and said, "Did I get it right?" in a hard, bitter voice. Sara dropped her head and whispered, "Yes."

Ian stood with none of his usual grace. "The fire's dying," he said. "I need to go get more wood." Without another word, he pulled on his boots. Sara winced when he yanked the boot over the fresh burn on his foot. He grabbed his jacket and went out the front door of the cabie die didn't slam it. He had too much control for that.

Sara pulled her knees up tight against her and wrapped her arms around them. "Well, that went well," she whispered. Then, she put her head down on her knees and let herself cry.

Hours passed before Sara heard the cabin door open again. She had pulled herself together enough to take a shower and find something to eat in the kitchen. By the time he returned, she was sitting on the sofa trying to read a book - but she kept reading the same paragraph over and over without really taking it in. The fire had almost gone out and she was just starting to feel really cold. He kept his eyes and head down as he stacked a big load of wood in the fireside box and got a strong fire going again. He'd turned away to head for the bathroom when Sara said, "Ian…" He just raised one hand slightly to stop her from saying anything more and kept on walking to the bathroom. In a couple of minutes, she heard the shower running.

A good while later, the bathroom door opened and Ian headed for the bedroom with a towel draped around his slender hips and nothing more. He was casually drying his hair with another towel. He didn't even glance Sara's way. When she saw him, her mouth dropped open and then she quickly lowered her head to s ons on the book again, embarrassed to be staring. She heard him moving around the bedroom and she kept sneaking glances to see what he was doing.

He finally came out of the bedroom wearing an unbuttoned old white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and another pair of tight, faded jeans. His hair hung around his face in clean, shiny waves. Sara glanced up once and then tried to concentrate on the book again, swallowing hard. On his way to the kitchen, Ian veered in her direction. She flinched as he leaned toward her but he just flicked on the table lamp beside her and said, "It's too dark in here to actually see that book you're pretending to read, Sara." As he disappeared into the kitchen, Sara's first thought was, "Smartass." Her second thought was, "Boy, does he smell good."

She heard him clattering around in the kitchen. Then, it got quiet. Sara couldn't stand it any more. She put down the unread book and went to the kitchen. He was sitting at the kitchen table just the way he had been the day before, with his longs sgs stretched out on the other chair. He was sipping a mug of what looked and smelled like herb tea. "Can we talk now?" she asked. He moved his legs and gestured to the now empty chair but didn't say a word. Sara pushed a hand through her hair and thought absently, "I need a drink." She sat, then said aloud, "I'm really, really sorry. I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. Things just got kind of out of hand between us last night and I should never have let it get that far."

He looked at her directly; his eyes clear and calm. "Relax, Sara. I'll survive. I just needed some time to deal with the realization that you don't want us to be lovers. I'm alright now. In fact, I'd really like us to become friends – good friends – if you'll allow it." Sara frowned, totally taken aback, and thought, "Hey, wait a minute here. That's my line." She cleared her throat and stared down at the table, confused and unable to meet his eyes. After a moment, she mumbled, "Yeah, sure. Okay. I'm really glad that you're taking all this so well."

"No problem," he replied, "Once we get back to the city tomorrow, maybe we can actually do some real, normal things together. You know, like go to dinner or see a movie – as friends, of course. Aside from whatever else these few days together have shown us, I think we get along pretty well and enjoy each other's company. What do you think?"

Sara glanced at him quickly to see if this was for real. She decided that it was. Her eyes dropped back and she asked, "What about Irons. I can't imagine that he'd be really thrilled about you and I getting chummy." "Let me worry about Mr. Irons," he responded, "What do you say?" She looked at him again, her eyes still slightly confused, "Yeah, sure, what the hell. I'm game." Ian smiled at her, "Great. I'm going to go now and read for a little while before bed." With that, he put his empty mug in the sink and walked away into the living room.

Sara shoved both hands into her hair and thought, "What the hell just happened here?"

Ian sat very still on the sofa, his eyes shut, his whole body shaking in reaction to what he'd just done. He was pretty sure that he'd managed to convince her that he'd gotten past his deeper feelings for her and now just wanted to be her friend. He did want to be her friend; but he also wanted to be her lover, her protector, her confessor, her indulger – her everything. But that would jus just have to wait. He'd have to learn to cultivate patience just like he'd once learned to cultivate stoicism and indifference. He had to show her that he could fit into her world. And, he'd have to dwithwith Mr. Irons.

When Sara crawled into bed an hour or so later, chastely wearing her sweatshirt, Ian was turned away from her on his side already asleep. Sara lay on her back, unmoving, as far away from him as the bed allowed. But when she woke in the middle of the night and stret, fe, feeling deliciously warm, she found that she was curled around his naked body. Sara hissed softly and shot back over to the far side of their bed. Ian allowed just the corner of his mouth to rise in a smile before he returned to willing away the erection that he'd been trying to control for the last half hour.

*****************************************

Sara turned back to take one last look at the cabin as they began the long drive back to the city. Ian glanced at her, wondering what was going through her mind.

He'd woken that morning to find that any confidence he'd had in his ability to win Sara's love had evaporated overnight. He was alone in the big bed and Sara was banging around in the kitchen making her morning coffee. He'd moved his hand to caress the still-warm spot where she'd been and it suddenly hit him that he'd be waking up alone again tomorrow. He'd never slept with another person before sharing this bed with Sara. He'd never realized how wonderful it could be to have a leg wrapped around his or to feel warm breath on his neck in the middle of the night. He didn't even mind the elbow she'd jabbed into his ribs. He had loved the simple intimacy of it and he desperately wanted to keep it. His stomach had cramped then, and he'd barely made it to the bathroom before losing the meager contents of his stomach to the toilet. He'd sat there naked on the cold, tile floor with his head in his hands wondering how he was going to get through the day. She wasn't even gone yet and he missed her already. Just then, she'd yelled to him from the kitchen, "Hey, quilt-hog, you awake yet?" And he'd had to smile in spite of himself.

Now, they were driving away from the private world they'd shared for two days and he thought, "I had all all to myself and couldn't make her want me. She's going back to her job, her partners, her friends, …and him. And, I'll have to compete with all of them. What am I going to do? What if she never touches me again? What if she won't…" "Watch out for that tree," Sara yelled. Hervedrved the SUV back onto the dirt track, missing an enormous Oak tree by inches. He let out a sharp breath, "Sorry. My mind was wandering." Sara frowned at him and said grumpily, "Yeah, well you better get it back here quick before we're toast. What's with you this morning, anyway? You're really jumpy."

They reached the access road to the cabin before Sara spoke to him again. She idly filed away the road name in her memory and asked, "So, what did Irons say again?" Ian turned on to the access road and said, "That the group that staged the coup had been neutralized and that the ones who made the original deal with you were back in control. Your deal stands and you're safe." "What does 'neutralized' mean in Irons-speak?" she wanted to know. A tiny smile touched Ian's lips, "I didn't ask." Sara smirked, "I'll bet. So how come Irons has so much pull with these people anyway." "Mr. I has has contacts everywhere. He's a very influential man," Ian responded. Now she snorted, "Not exactly the way that I'd describe him but then I'm not his…," she stopped just before adding one of her choice putdowns of Ian. His hand tensed on the steering wheel and he thought, "It's starting already. I'm losing her already." And, a little voice that sounduspiuspiciously like Irons, said in the back of his head, "Fool, you never had her to begin with, you can't lose what you never had."

Sara turned to study his profile, "So, was he pretty annoyed with you for disappearing with me for the last three days and not letting him know where we were?" Ian frowned, "You could say that." "He's really going to make you pay for that, isn't he?" she asked. He glanced at her then, but she'd turned her head away from him to stare out the window. "I'll be fine, Sara. Don't worry about me," he said mildly.

At that moment, as if to call him a liar, the Witchblade flashed on Sara's wrist. Her eyes glazed over and she was suddenly inside a vision showing a frail Irons sitting in a wheelchair. She watched as an enormous man in a black hood strapped Ian face first onto some kind of rack. She heard Irons' cultured tones, "I know that you'll forgive me, Ian, if this all seems a touch Inquisitorial. I've just had such a taste lately for a good old-fashioned auto da fe." She saw the hooded man crack a hideous whip as if to get a feel for what it could do. "Now again, Ian," Irons purred, "from the beginning. Where did you and our lovely Sara go after I'd asked you so nicely to bring her here to me?" In a flat, soft voice, she heard Ian say, "Sara was reluctant to come to you. We went to a motel in Baltimore. Once we were there…" Irons nodded and the whip struck Ian again and again and again until Sara lost count and the whole back of him looked like raw meat. His blood flew, making lacy patterns on the cold marble floor. And he never made a sound. Finally, mercifully, his head dropped to his shoulder and she knew that he had lost consciousness.

Sara gasped loudly and bent forward over her knees. Ian reached for her, pulling the car onto the shoulder of the road at the same time. He leaped out and dashed over to the passenger side, yanking open the door. He lifted Sara off the seat and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. He hadn't shared the vision with her but he'd seen the Witchblade flash and knew what had happened. He stroked her hair, holding her close against him, "Sara," he whispered, "It's alright, it's alright. It's over. Everything's alright." For a moment, she clung to him shaking. Then, she pushed him back and pounded a fist against his chest. "The hell it is," she yelled in his face, "He's going to beat you for your 'disobedience' when you return to him and you'ret got going to take it, aren't you? You're just going to let him do that to you. What the hell is the matter with you?"

Ian blinked and sat perfectly still, holding Sara in his arms on an empty access road in the middle of nowhere. He didn't know what to say to her. "Sara…," he started. "No," she said, shaking her head, "No. I don't want you to go back to him." And here it was, the confrontation that he'd known would come sooner or later. He had thought that he would have more time to prepare for it. "I have to go back to him, Sara," Ian said, "It's where I belong. And, it's the best place for me to be to protect you." She pounded his chest again with her fist, "That's crap and you know it. There's more to it than that, isn't there? Why do you just stand there and let yourself be hurt like that? And, the best place for you to be to protect me is with me, asshole," she raged.

Now, Ian had to smile. "So, are you asking me to move in with you, Sara?" That stopped her cold. She got up off of his lap and walked a few steps away. "Okay," she admitted, her back to him, "So, I guess it's not that simple on my side either. I woke up this morning with my head on your shoulder. If we're being honest here, I have to admit that it's just not the same between us as it was before and it never will be again. I don't want you to be hurt." He moved close behind her and slid his arms around her waist, "In spite of what you may think, Sara, I don't crave pain. I don't look forward to whatever the Witchblade's shown you. But I can't just walk away. There could be grave repercussions that we can't foresee." Sara pulled out of his embrace and went back to sit in the car, "Well, that's just swell. Now, you're even starting with the cryptic shit again," she said.

Ian stood where he was, frustrated. He didn't know how to make her understand. Finally, he went back to the car and got behind the wheel. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Ian turned to face her. "Sara, Mr. Irons raised me. He's the only family I have. In his own way, I believe that he cares about me." Sara snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "If I left him, where would I go? What would I do?" Ian asked. Sara turned to him and taking his hand from the steering wheel, held it in hers, "Those are good questions and we should talk about them. You've got to get away from him, Ian. How can I ever trust you when you're still living in that house?"

He kissed the hand she\lacelaced in his. "Okay," he said, "If you'll help me maybe we can find a way together. But, today, I have to go back. Are you alright with that?" Sara took back her hand. "Am I alright with him beating you maybe to death? No. I'm not alright with that. But I can also see that I can't stop you from going back to him now. Just promise me that you'll get word to me that you're okay. Will you do that much?" Ian nodded, "I promise." Sara turned away from him to stare out the side window, "Good. Then, let's go back and get it over with." Ian sighed and started the car.

The rest of the trip passed in silence with each of them lost in their own thoughts. When the bridge into the city appeared against the approaching skyline, Ian pulled the car into a small, wooded turnaround at the side of the highway. Sara turned to him and asked, "Why did you pull over?" Ian looked her full in the eyes and said softly, "To honor the myth that you created for us, Sara. This is the last bridge and our time alone together – just you and me – is ending. I want a proper goodbye."

He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Sara opened the door and stood facing him. Ian pulled her into his arms and Sara didn't resist. He kissed her deeply, passionately, using every trick that she'd unwittingly taught him. He wanted her to remember him when she woke up alone tomorrow back in her own bed; when she worked with Danny on a new case; when she sat at Conchobar's bedside. And Sara responded in spite of herself – thy shy she had at the cabin – feeling fire and familiarity, and not able to get enough of him. Ian thought, "I love you, Sara." But this time, he knew better than to say it out loud.

Sara's first day back at the work had been a long one and she was glad of it. It kept her mind off…things. "Okay," she thought, as she heated a frozen dinner, "don't be a weasel, Pezzini. Admit it. You miss him. You miss Ian Nottingham." She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all day. She was worried about him and she was afraid that Irons had turned her vision into reality. Twice, she'd actually picked up the phone to call the mansion, to try to reach Ian. She snorted, "Like Irons would have really let me speak to him," she thought, "Like he'd really let me know whether Ian's alright."

Irons had covered for her at the precinct though and he had saved her ass from those government freaks. She'd gone into the office to find that everyone, including Danny and Jake, thought that she'd been requested for an unexpected undercover assignment. So, she hadn't had to explain her absence to anyone – couldn't, even if she'd wanted to, because it was "confidential." She didn't begin to fathom Irons' motives. He certainly hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart or out of any fondness for her. She knew that he'd hoped to get the Witchblade back in his grasp. But, of course, Ian had spoiled that plan when he'd spirited her away to the cabin to keep her safe. Ian…"And, here I am," she thought, "thinking about him again. Dammit, Ian, you promised to let me know that you're okay. Why don't you call?"

She ate her solitary dinner, jumping at every sound, at every imagined tap on her window. She was about to call it a night when her phone rang. She leaped for it and said breathlessly, "Hello?" There was a moment of silence and then a stranger's voice whispered, "I'm calling for Ian Nottingham. He asked me to tell you that he's alright and that he'll try to come to you on Saturday night about 8:00 P.M. Is that acceptable? Shall I tell him that you will see him then?" Sara realized that she'd been holding her breath. It left her with a whoosh and she said, "Yeah, sure. Saturday's fine." She paused, then added, "Who is this? Is he really okay?" before she realized that she was talking to herself. Her caller was gone. "Okay," she thought, "an older man with just a hint of a foreign accent. What the hell is going on? Why all the mystery?"

He'd left the grounds to make the call. You never knew who was listening in the mansion; which phones were safe. Sliding the cell phone in his pocket, he noticed that his hand was shaking. He was having another attack of nerves. If Kenneth ever found out about the covenant that he'd made with Ian, he'd kill them both. But this latest atrocity had finally pushed him to take the action that he'd been contemplating for a long, long time. Kenneth had almost killed the boy this time; had come within a hair's breadth of it. He wanted out. He was no longer young. He just wanted to go home and live out the rest of his years in peace, away from this madness. No one saw Dr. Immo slip back onto the grounds using the secret route that Ian had described to him. He made his way unnoticed back to the lab where he was tending the badly beaten Nottingham to let him know that his promise to Sara had been kept.

The rest of the week dragged by for Sara. Apparently, there was a moratorium on killing in their precinct. She and Danny were stuck doing cleanup on their existing caseload. That meant paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. Without a new case to distract her, Sara found that her mind kept drifting back to the cabin and picking over what had happened there in great detail.

After the third time of trying repeatedly to get her attention on Thursday morning, Danny finally said to her, "Okay, Pez. Who's the new man in your life?" Sara, caught off-guard, flushed and then stammered, "What, are you nuts? I've given up on boyfriends. In case you hadn't noticed, they tend to drop like flies around me." Danny eyed her, "Yeah? Bull! You always act this spacey when you've met some new guy." "Come on, I just need some new case action, that's all," she replied, "These reports and witness statements are all starting to look the same to me. My eyes are crossing here. Give me a break." Danny just smiled at her and said, "Uh huh. So when do we get to meet him?" Sara stood and said, "I need some more coffee. You want some coffee, detective? My treat?" Now Danny really smiled, "Whoa – your treat? I really must have struck a nerve."

By lunch on Friday, Sara decided that she really needed to talk to someone. She grabbed Vicki and dragged her to the deli across from the precinct. As soon as they settled down with their food, Vicki grinned at her and said, "Okay, Pez. Who is he?" Sara dropped the half sandwich she was holding back on her plate, "Jeez, Vick, what am I doing, flashing this across my chest in neon lights or something?" "Pretty much," she replied, "You've got a pattern, Pez. New man comes into your life, your focus takes a hit. You do a lot of staring off into space. So, who is he?" "It isn't what you think. We're not involved. Well, yeah, I guess we are kind of involved. But we're not…," Sara stopped and ran a hand roughly through her hair, "Oh, hell, Vick, I don't know what we are."

Now, Vicki was staring at her, fascinated. "This is really getting interesting. C'mon, give. Who is this guy that's got you worked up like this?" "Remember a while back outside your office, I was talking to this tall, dark guy?" Sara asked. Now, Vicki dropped her sandwich back onto her plate and said, "Oh, my god, not the pirate?" Sara looked embarrassed, "Yeah, yeah, okay – the pirate." Vicki's eyes went wide and she laughed, "Okay, Pez, we got a problem here. Because right after I saw him there with you, I added him to my fantasies and he's become the mainstay of some of my best daydreams." Sara laughed with her, "Well, unfortunately, the reality of him is a bit more complicated, Vick."

"What's his name," Vicki wanted to know. "Ian Nottingham," Sara replied. Vicki sighed, "Even the name is romantic." Sara grinned at her ruefully, "I can see that you're not going to be a lot of help to me here. You were supposed to be my voice of reason." "Sure, I can do that," Vicki responded, "He's no good for you, Sara. You should dump him and pass along his phone number to me. How was that?" "About as useful as what's been running though my own mind for the last week," Sara said. "When do you see him again," Vicki asked. "Saturday night," Sara answered. "So, what time do we meet here for lunch on Monday?" Vicki wanted to know.

At 8:00 P.M. Saturday night, Sara was sitting by the window to her fire escape, anxiously waiting for Nottingham to show. Her need to see him had gotten more intense as the day had gone by so that now she was really on edge. At 8:00 on the dot, there was a knock at her front door. She raised the window a bit and looked out, in spite of the cold. The knock came again. "Dammit," she thought, closing the window, "Where is he and who the hell is this at the door? I really don't need some Jehovah's Witness right now."

Sara opened the door, ready to get rid of whoever was there fast. And there stood Ian, his hand just raised to knock again. Sara's mouth dropped open, "What are you doing at the door?" she asked. "And, oh my god, did you always look this good?" she thought. He was wearing black slacks, a white sweater that looked like cashmere, and a black leather jacket. His hair was pulled back tight from his face and caught in a black, leather band. Ian looked confused, "Didn't you get my message? Didn't you expect me?" Sara murmured, "Yeah, of course I did. Sorry. I was waiting for you to turn up over by the window." Ian laughed, "I see. Do you want me to go back out and lurk a bit, then come up the fire escape? Or, do you think I might just come in the door now?" Sara blushed, "Oh, sure. Come on in and sit down."

He moved into the loft but didn't sit. Satchatched him and thought, "There's something wrong with him. He's moving funny." Aloud, she said, "What's wrong with you? You're moving funny – like you're stiff or hurt or something. What happened? Are you okay?" Ian thought, "Detective's eyes. I should have known I couldn't get by her." Aloud, he said, "I'm fine." Sara frowned, "Like hell you are. I want to know what happened with Irons. What did he do to you?" She had that stubborn look on her face again. Ian sighed, "If omisomise to tell you, can we go to the restaurant now? Our reservation is for 8:30." Sara looked stunned, "We're going out to eat? At a restaurant?" Ian smiled, holding her coat for her, "A real restaurant – a good one too. But we're just eating together as friends, of course." Sara slid her arms into the coat that he held for her and said, "Of course."

They walked to a really wonderful Italian restaurant in Sara's neighborhood. She'd never eaten there because it was way out of her price range. Once they were seated, anra hra had ordered a glass of red wine, she asked Ian again, "Okay, now I want to know. What did he do to you? I also want to know who called me – but that can wait." Ian sipped his water and said softly, looking at the table, "I think he did what the Witchblade showed you." Sara gasped and several other diners glanced over at their table. "He couldn't have," she said, "You couldn't be up and around if he had." Ian shook his head, "You've seen for yourself how quickly I heal, Sara. You were right. He came close to killing me. I went into shock from loss of blood and my heart stopped. Dr. Immo just managed to pull me back."

She grabbed his hand where it lay on the table and Ian linked his fingers with hers, "Look at me, Ian," she said. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "This has got to stop," she said, "You've got to get away from him and soon. Are you hearing me?" "Yes," he replied, "I'm hearing you. You're right. And that brings us to Dr. Immo, who called you for me. It's because of him that I could come to you tonight. We've come to an arrangement."

"What kind of an arrangement?" she asked. "I'm working on building him a new identity so that he can go where Mr. Irons can never find him," he said, "And he's buying me some time to be with you, and to find out Irons' plans for you and maybe me before I leave." "How's he doing that?" she asked, sipping her wine. "Since his last encounter with you and the Witchblade, Mr. Irons' health has been failing. Dr. Immo keeps him going with a tonic that he brews up daily. Tonight, he laced it with a sedative so that I could get away from the mansion for a few hours without Mr. Irons knowing." Sara chomped on a breadstick, "Aren't there cameras everywhere?" she said. "Yes, there are," he replied, "I've got them rigged." "How long, Ian?" she still wanted to know. "I'll leave when I know that it won't put you in danger and when I have some idea of his plans. Not before," he said. Sara sighed and said, "I want more wine." Ian raised a hand for the waiter.

They had really excellent pasta and less strained conversation throughout the rest of their dinner. At some point, Sara realized that every female eye in the place kept straying to their table. In fact, there were four women sharing a rather boisterous dinner at a table diagonal to theirs. One of the women, a stunning blonde, had had her eyes locked on Ian's every move since they'd entered the restaurant. He was utterly oblivious to all the attention. By the time she finished her second glass of wine, Sara was feeling pretty relaxed. "Just as friends, my ass," she thought. She linked her fingers with Ian's again and started stroking the back of his hand with the tip of one finger.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened between us at the cabin," she said, her voice a throaty purr. If she hadn't had his undivided attention before, she certainly did now. "So have I. I don't seem to be able to think of much else," he said. "It was pretty intense," she admitted, "And kind of scary for me to lose control like that." Ian's eyes had gone wide. "You lost control with me?" he asked. Sara slipped her foot out of her shoe and started to move her bare toes up the inside of his leg. He caught his breath and she felt his hand start to shake under hers, "Well, sure," she said, "Couldn't you tell? Hasn't that sort of desperate need to make love with someone ever happened to you before?" Her toes had reached the inside of his thigh. Ian shut his eyes and said softly, "No. I certainly wanted you desperately but I had no idea that you felt the same way." Her toes had moved higher and she could tell that she'd had the desired effect.

He was watching her now with those jungle-cat eyes and trying hard not to lose it right there in the restaurant, "I hope you didn't want dessert," he breathed. The problem was, she thought, she did want dessert but what she wanted wasn't on the restaurant's menu. "Why don't you get the check while I hit the ladies room, and then we can go back to my place," she suggested. One corner of his mouth rose in a smile, "Let's hope that I can get up without embarrassing us both by the time you get back."

Ian was glad that he'd picked a restaurant close to Sara's loft because all he could think about on the short walk back was that Sara wanted him and that he was going to be alone with her soon. Sara, on the other hand, was starting to wonder whether she could finish what she'd started in the restaurant.

When the door of her loft shut behind them and they were alone, Ian reached for her. Sara deftly evaded him and headed for the sofa. Leaning over the coffee table, she lit several large candles. Then, she took a deep breath, turned, and held out her hand to Ian. He went to her immediately. As she pushed the leather jacket off of his shoulders, a slip of paper fell out of the pocket and fluttered to the floor. Sara stooped to pick it up. She studied it for a moment in the dim light before she asked, "Who's Amanda?" Ian looked confused, "Who?" Sara held out the paper to him, "Amanda, 212-789-1111. All that's missing is 'for a good time call…'," she said.

"Oh - that. No one," he answered, "Some crazy woman at the restaurant who came over to the table when you went to the Ladies Room." Sara had it now. "Right. Tall, blonde, gorgeous? That the one?" Sara asked. "I didn't really notice," he said, "What does it matter? Here – give me the paper." Sara handed it back to him. Ian touched it to the candle's flame and dropped the burning paper in the ashtray on the coffee table. "I only took it to get rid of her," he said, "I tried to tell her that I wasn\nternterested but she just wasn't listening to me." Sara tried to decide whether to believe him. He could have easily memorized the number, after all. She took a good, long look at him and sighed, "I bet that happens to you a lot, doesn't it?" He frowned, sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion beside him before he asked, "What?" Sara sat beside him and said, "Women – coming on to you. I mean, look at you." Now, he started to look concerned and maybe a little afraid, "I don't understand," he said, "Have I done something wrong? Are you upset with me?"

Sara reached a hand behind his head and pulled out the leather band that held back his hair. It fell in shining waves around his face. "No," she said softly, "I'm not upset with you. I was just thinking that you must have had so many women. I mean looking like you do and traveling all over the world with Irons – lots of opportunities. And, watching how women responded to you in the restaurant tonight, I just thought…" Ian had raised a hand to cover his eyes. He was laughing helplessly. Now, Sara looked confused. "What?" she asked. "Oh, Sara," he sighed, getting the laughter under control with difficulty, "Please believe me. That's the last thing that you have to worry about. You're the only woman that there ever has been or ever will be for me." Sara had heard that line before, "Yeah, right," she responded.

He took her hand in his and kissed it gently, "No, you don't understand. I mean that quite literally." It took a moment to sink in. Her eyes widened, "You can't mean that before that night at the cabin you were…You'd never…No, that's not possible," she whispered. He leaned closer to nuzzle against then kiss her neck, "Why not?" he said, raising his head. Sara looked into his eyes and smiled, "I took your virginity?" she asked. "Actually," he responded, leaning in to kiss her lips, "I gave it to you. It was yours from the first moment I saw you at the museum."

She slid her arms around his neck and leaned into his kiss. They got closer and closer on the sofa, necking feverishly and discarding any clothing that got in the way. Then, Sara pulled that soft, soft sweater off of Ian and started to run her hands over his bare back. Both of them froze for a moment. In the sudden silence, Ian's sharp gasp of pain sounded overloud. Sara pulled back her hand and gasped as well, stunned by what she'd felt. She reached to turn on the lamp and Ian caught her hand, "Please, don't," he whispered. "I want to see it," she said. "No, you don't," he said softly, "Please, it's over. Just let it go. Just hold me. Please." "I'm afraid that I'll hurt you," she responded, just as softly. "The only way you're going to hurt me is if you stop touching me now. Please," he begged, "I want you so badly."

Sara took his face in her hands and kissed him very gently on the lips. She held his hand, drew him up off the sofa, and led him over to her bed. She sat down and, with him standing in front of her, unfastened his pants and carefully pulled them down over his hips. She looked up at him, raising one eyebrow, when she found that he wasn't wearing anything under them. He blushed and said, "I could only wear something loose because of the cuts…underwear was too tight." He reached down and sliding both hands over nakenaked shoulders, raised her to stand against him, body to body. Ian buried his hands in her hair and pulled her face to his, kissing her passionately.

They tumbled to the bed together, still entwined, the kiss unbroken. As they began to strain against each other, naturally finding their position and rhythm, she felt Ian tense and heard him say her name with a touch of fear in his voice. She raised her head, groggy with passion, and saw that the Witchblade had put forthrighright scarlet tendril. It stretched out from her wrist and had already wrapped itself around their joined bodies. With a final sinuous spurt, it curled around Ian's ring finger before separating into two points that embedded themselves beneath the skin of his right wrist.

***************************************

The air was humid and still. She smelled Eucalyptus leaves, sandalwood, and the scent of his skin – spicy and mysterious. Silks were beneath them and veils of gossamer netting surrounded them, a filmy wall of privacy protecting them from prying eyes. Her lover, her warrior moved within her, fanning a flame hotter than the midday sun above. When she caressed his sweat-slicked back, he raised his head to regard her with eyes as rich and brown as the fertile delta soil after the healing rains. He was her soul, her conscience. He completed her and made her whole.

He matched his rhythm to the rocking barge. His lover, his queen wrapped him in her silken limbs and ran a delicate hand over the battle scars on his sweat-slicked back. He pushed into the fiery heat of her and raised his head to gaze into eyes as cool and green as the Nile. She was his soul, his heart. She completed him and made him whole. And then…

Shadows danced in firelight on the rock above her head. She could see their panting breath in the midnight air of the cave. She shivered against him and her warrior lover pulled fur pelts close around them. She touched his bearded cheek and he pulled her above him so that he could see her face. His thick-lashed eyes glowed golden, lit by the flames. He was her mate, her protector. He completed her and made her whole.

He stroked her slender arm; sinew under skin like rock under thistle. His warrioverover wrapped her fingers in his long dark hair and pulled his head to hers. Drawing back from her kiss, he warmed himself in her eyes, green as the Spring so far away. She was his mate, his life. She completed him and made him whole. And then…

She rolled with her lover in the hay at dusk. In a corner of the shady barn, their warhorses snorted and pawed. His soft laugh charmed her when his breastplate got stuck during their frantic disrobing. In the failing golden rays of a warm Autumn afternoon, He was so beautiful that he took her breath away. He smiled as he held her in his arms, his eyes the rich color of the falling leaves. He was her friend, her joy. He completed her and made her whole.

He buried his face in her sun-warmed hair. She smelled of apples and cinnamon. He kissed the soft breasts of his love before rolling her beneath him in the sweet-smelling hay. She looked up at him with eyes as green as a still pond in deep woods. She was his friend, his happiness. She completed him and made him whole. And then…

****************************************

Sara lay curled in Ian's arms, twined in the Witchblade's pulsing embrace. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch the bearded cheek of the lover she had forgotten that she had always known.turnturned his face to gently kiss the palm of her hand. She arched her body against his, suddenly not able to get close enough as he tightened his arms around her. He murmured her name as he started to slowly move again, still inside her. She clung to him as if he was the one fixed point in the whirlwind of emotions within her. This time, when they made love, it was the antithesis of the frenzied coupling at the cabin. It was slow and sure and perfect. It was like coming home.

Afterward, when Ian whispered, "I love you, Sara," as they were drifting off to sleep, she softly responded, "I love you too." He didn't make a big thing of it – there was time for that in the morning. He just smiled happily at the edge of sleep and held her a little tighter, his heart beating like mad. And, as they slept, the Witchblade retracted from the inside of Ian's hand, leaving two small red marks. Like a long, red plume of smoke, it slowly curved away from his ring finger, out from around the two sleeping lovers, and back into a quiet, but smug, bracelet on Sara's wrist.

Ian woke in the darkness of early morning. He and Sara were still cuddled tightly together but the Witchblade was no longer wrapped around them. It was once again a dormant bracelet on Sara's wrist. He gently pulled out of her embrace and slipcarecarefully out of bed, not wanting to wake her. She could sleep for hours yet but he had to get back to the mansion before Irons woke and missed him. He hated to leave her. It was Sunday and she didn't have to go in to the precinct. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her here in bed. He sighed and forced himself to move before he weakened and went back into her arms, putting them both in jeopardy.

On his way to the shower, he stopped in the kitchen to make coffee so that Sara would have it ready when she woke. In the shower, he turned the water on hot and scrubbed himself thoroughly. Something else he hated to do – making sure that Sara's scent wasn't on him because Irons would notice it immediately. He needed time to just be with Sara; to touch and talk; time to figure out what had happened between them and the Witchblade. Time that they didn't have. It made him ache to have to leave her now – just when she'd finally said those words that he'd wanted so desperately to hear her say for so long. He shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower, "What if she changes her mind?" he thought. At the cabin, she'd wanted him in the night only to decide it was a mistake the next morning. What if she woke up this morning and realized that she didn't love him after all?

Ian opened his eyes and said aloud, "Stop this. Just deal with what you know." He shook his head to clear it and thought as he washed his hair, "You're playing a very dangerous game with Mr. Irons. You can't afford to let yourself become distracted. It's not just you. Sara could get hurt." Just then, as if thinking her name had conjured her, he felt Sara's arms slide around his waist from behind. He ducked his head under the shower spray to get the shampoo out of his hair and eyes before turning to face her. She mumbled something incoherent and dropped her head to his ch eye eyes shut. He smiled and stroked her wet hair, holding her against him, "Why did you get up?" he whispered, " It's very early. You're still half asleep. You should go back to bed, love. Want me to carry you back?"

"I'm already wet," she grumbled, mouth against his chest, "I should just take the damn shower now that I'm here." Ian grinned and leaned down to gently kiss the top of her head, "Would you like me to wash your hair for you?" he asked. "Mmmm," she replied. He made sure that she had a good hold of him before he moved his hands from her back to fill them with shampoo and wash her hair. "Keep your eyes shut," he whispered in her ear just before he licked and gently nipped her earlobe with his teeth. "Mmmm," she said again, a little more enthusiastically. Sara leaned into him as he washed and then rinsed her hair.

When her hair was clean, Ian soaped up his hands and started washing her body. He soaped up and rinsed her back. Whe ghe got to her breasts, the washing turned into something else. Sara made a soft sound in the back of her throat. Ian raised his eyes to meet a pair of now fully awake and alert green eyes. She raised one eyebrow, "Is that what you call 'washing,' pal?" she asked. He shrugged and smiled, "I may have gotten a bit off track," he replied. Sara shivered as his warm, soapy fingers slid down between them and started to stroke her. She scraped her teeth across his throat and slid her arms around his neck, while whispering huskily, "Off track is good – very, very good."

When Sara cried out and dug her nails into his back, Ian leaned down to kiss her. She strained against him, sliding her tongue along his while she reached her hand down between them to guide him inside her. He lifted her, balancing her against the shower wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched herself against him. It was fast and frantic, both of them needing the release that soon came. Still clinging to him limply, Sara made a sound like a contented purr and kissed the tip of his nose. "You're getting really good at this," she whispered. He tilted his mouth up to hers to kiss her lightly, "After last night, I don't think you could really call me 'inexperienced' any more." Her eyes softened, "Yes, last night. We really need to talk about that, don't we," she said. Disentangling herself from him, she asked, "Did you make coffee?" "Mmmhmm," hplieplied, stepping out of the shower and pulling her into a big bath towel. Sara smiled.

When he'd finished drying her and he turned to get a towel to dry himself off, Ian heard Sara gasp. He swung back to face her shocked expression, "What?" he asked. She pointed to him and said softly, "Your back." He angled himself to look at his back in the bathroom mirror. There wasn't a mark on it. His eyes widened in surprise. "How?" he whispered. Sara gently ran her hand over the silky smooth skin, "The Witchblade," she said, "It healed you again." Ian smiled and took Sara's right hand in both of his. He leaned down to reverently kiss the stone of the Witchblade and whisper, "Thank you." The bracelet shot out a brilliant flash of scarlet in response. "Whoa," Sara said, pulling back her hand, "I think we might have a pretty kinky threesome going here. C'mon, Romeo, I need my coffee."

They sat at her kitchen table. The sun hadn't risen yet. Ian had put his badly wrinkled pants and sweater back on – they'd lain scattered on the floor where'd d'd dropped them all night. Sara was wrapped in an old bathrobe. Sara hugged her first mug of coffee like it was the elixir of life. She reached across the table for his hand, "I'd really like you to stay with me today." He linked his fingers with hers, "Sara, you know that I want to but I can't. I've got to get back to the mansion before Mr. Irons wakes up. I should have left already." He looked around distractedly, "What did I do with my watch?"

Sara caught his chin in her hand and turned him back to face her, "It's on the coffee table where you left it. What are you – Cinderella? Are you always going to be running away like this after we've been together? You going to leave me your shoe?" He smiled and heer her hand in his, "I hadn't planned on it. I'm already leaving you my heart." Her eyes softened, "Umm, sounds kind of messy." He met her eyes directly and replied, "I guess it could be – especially if you don't want it." Now, she really smiled, "You can settle down, big boy. I want it. I want the whole package even if it does come with a whole shit load of weird little quirks and conditions. I meant what I said last night. I love you."

She watched those amber eyes widen before he reached over to pull her on his lap. She slid her arms around his neck and he buried his face in the curve between her chin and shoulder, "I'll never get used to hearing you say that," he whispered, his breatrm arm against her throat. "I can't even begin to explain to you what it does to me. God, I love you so much, Sara." She ran her hand through his hair and said, "So, you realize that there are certain responsibilities to being a 'significant other,' right?" He angled his head so that he could nibble her ear lobe, "Like?" he purred. "Like spooning with me at night and waking up tangled with me in the morning," she said. "Whenever I can," he replied. "Like getting my first cup of coffee to me quickly," she said. "Without fail," he replied. "Like going with me to Danny's sister's wedding next Sunday," she said. This time there was dead silence.

"Sara…," he started. "Oh, c'mon," she said, "What's the use of having a great new man if I can't drag him out in front of all my friends and make everyone uncomfortable?" He nuzzled her hair, "What time would we have to be there?" he asked. "The wedding starts at 2:00 and the reception follows at 4:00," she responded. "Okay. I don't know how I'm going to get away in the afternoon but, if it's this important to you, I'll find a way," he said. Sara grinned, "Really? And then you'll stay the night with me?" "Are you kidding?" he said, grinning back at her, "Of course, I'll stay the night. The wedding I'll do for you but spending the night I'll do for me. And, now, I've got to get going or I won't be going anywhere ever again." As he moved her from his lap, Sara caught his hand and said, "Tell me that was a joke." He stared into her eyes for a few seconds, then said, "Sara, Mr. Irons is a very dangerous man. He's weak now and we can take advantage of that. But if we ever forget just how dangerous he really is, we're lost." She kissed his palm and said, "I know. Be careful, please."

Ian grabbed his jacket from the floor by the sofa and Sara walked with him to the front door. She snuggled into his arms for a long, deep kiss. When he reluctantly pulled back, he whispered, "Go on back to bed. It's your day off. I'll call you during the week to find out more about Sunday. I love you." She leaned in for a last, quick kiss, "Me too. Watch your back." And, as the door shut behind him, Sara headed back to bed. It was, after all, her day off.

Sara went to work the next morning wearing Ian's watch, which he'd left on her coffee table. She'd pulled the black leather band all the way over to hook the catch in the last hole so it would fit on her left wrist. She told herself that in case he called her wanting to pick it up during the day, she'd have it with her to give him. She didn't admit to herself that she was really wearing it because it made her feel closer to him.

They caught a new case first thing in the morning and the hours went quickly. For once, it was a straightforward homicide; a gang shooting with witnesses willing to talk. By noon, the legwork was pretty much done and Sara was working with Danny to clean up the paperwork. She sensed someone behind her and looked up to see Vicki Po waiting patiently. Sara raised an eyebrow, "Yo, Vick. What's up?" Vicki frowned and said, "We had a lunch date today or did you forget? Get it in gear here. I'm living vicariously through you and I need my fix." Danny looked up, interested, "So, what's worth living vicariously in your life now, Pez?" Sara quickly stood, grabbing her jacket in one hand and Vicki none too gently by the elbow with the other. Sara steered Vicki to the door as she threw over her shoulder at Danny, "Not a thing, partner, not a thing." Squeezing Vicki's elbow, she growled, "A little discretion here, okay?"

When they were seated at their usual deli table, Vicki grinned at Sara and said, "Nice watch. New?" Sara blushed, "Okay, okay. He left it on the coffee table. I didn't want it to get lost in the loft." "Absolutely," Vicki replied, "A regular Bermuda Triangle, your loft." She smiled sheepishly, "Okay, so I just wanted to wear it. Big deal." Vicki punched Sara's shoulder, "It is a big deal, isn't it?" Sara smiled, "Yeah. Now it is a big deal. I told him how I feel." Vicki's eyes got big, "Wow. You said the "L" word? What about him?" "He actually said it first," Sara replied. "My god, a man who saysloveloves you first – grab him and don't let him go," Vicki said. "Now, I'm jumpy," Sara moaned, "You know how it goes with me. Every time I tell a guy I love him, ninjas drop from the sky and beat him to death – metaphorically speaking, that is. Only with Ian, that could really happen, so it makes it even worse."

Vicky looked flummoxed, "Ninjas could drop from the sky? So, what – he really is a pirate?" Sara realized that she'd said too much and backpedaled, "It's kind of complicated and difficult to explain, Vick. Trust me. His safety is a genuine concern." Vicki sighed and asked softly, "Are you setting yourself up for more heartache here, Sweetie?" Sara pushed a hand through her hair, "Probably. It's too late to stop now, though. I never really understood what "besotted" meant before. When we're together, we can't keep our hands off each other. I want him all the time. I've never been so out of control with a man as I am with him." Vicki smiled, "All that means is that you're normal, Pez. The man is hot. Everything's cool unless he's the type to take advantage of your needs." Sara smiled and shook her head, "No. That's what's weird. In lots of ways, he's really innocent." Now, Vicki snorted, "Oh, c'mon, Pez. I'm sorry but a man who looks like that can hardly be innocent." Sara just kept smiling, "You'd be surprised," she said.

"Anyway," Sara continued, "You'll be able to judge for yourself. Ian's coming with me to Rosa's wedding." "Woohoo," Vicki cried and clapped her hands, "I get to meet Captain Blood." Sara squinted at her, "You're not going to embarrass me are you? Or him? This is going to be hard enough for him, you know. He's going to have to cope with Danny. Not to mention Lee and Rosa. Thank god Jake has that "guy thing" that he couldn't miss. Mixing Jake and Ian would be like mixing oil and water. Promise me you'll go easy on him." Vicki smiled back at her, "Sara, trust me." Sara put her head in her hands and said, "Shit."

By Wednesday, Sara realized that she needed to tell Danny at least something about the Witchblade, Irons, Ian, and what she'd been going through since they'd come into her life. He was way too sharp not to have already started making some connections. She was afraid some of them were wrong. She wanted to prepare him to see her showing up on Ian's arm at his sister's wedding. So, she asked Danny to lunch – her treat. Of course, that grabbed his attention right off.

As soon as they sat down – before they'd even ordered – Danny said, "So…Rosa tells me that you called to ask her whether it was okay to bring a guest with you after all." Then, he folded his hands on the table and looked at her expectantly, one eyebrow raised. Sara hunched over the menu and said, "Jeez, couldn't you even just let me order first?" Danny smiled, "You can't hide behind the Sushi, Pez." She took a deep breath and said, "Okay, Danny. I'm bringing Ian Nottingham with me to Rosa's wedding." His face went blank. "The guy that's been stalking you?" he asked in disbelief, "What the hell is this – Helsinki syndrome? You grew accustomed to his face because he was always lurking in the shadows? What?"

Sara held up a hand to stop his tirade, "Hold on," she replied, "There's a lot that you don't know about Ian and why he was following me around." Danny snorted in response, "Yeah, no shit. You think?" "Okay," she said softly, "I know that I haven't always kept you in the loop. That's because I didn't want to put you in danger. Now, things are a little more under control and my relationship to Ian has changed big time." He tried to put on his objective listener's face, "Alright. Go ahead. I'm all ears," he said. Sara smiled and Danny's lips twitched, "Don't even go there, Pez," he said.

The waitress came and they ordered their lunch. Then, Sara said, "A lot of this is going to be really hard for you to believe. Just try to keep an open mind and save your questions until I finish. Okay?" He frowned and responded, "Okay." Sara gave him an edited version of her life since the Witchblade had chosen her in the Midtown Museum up through the escape to the cabin with Ian. They were unwrapping their fortune cookies when she finished. Danny hadn't said a word. Now, he said, "Well, that explains some things." Sara looked amazed, "It does?" He nodded, "Sure." Sara smiled, "You continue to surprise me, partner. I didn't think that you'd believe a word of this." "Why?" he asked. "Well, hell, Danny," she said, "For the longest time, no one could convince me that the Witchblade was – whatever the hell it is. Not Irons, not Ian, not even Gabriel. Here you are just taking it in and moving on."

Now Danny grinned, "So, I guess that means that there's no end in sight for all these weird-ass cases that we keep getting, huh?" Sara laughed, "Sorry, partner. I really am. I just seem to draw them like flies." He looked in her eyes, serious, "Is Irons still a threat to you?" Sara looked back at him, just as serious, "I would have to say yes, he's still a threat." "And Nottingham works for Irons," Danny continued, "Who also raised him." "Yes," she replied, "But Ian's bond with me is much deeper than anything he owes to Irons." Danny's eyebrow went up again. Sara blushed, "I'm not just talking about sex here, Danny."

She shook her head and said, "It's all part of this mystic crap that's been so hard for me to accept. I'm the Wielder and Ian's my Protector. We've been together for lifetime after lifetime. Sometimes lovers, sometimes not; but always together. The Witchblade gave the two of us a little scenic tour the other night. I can't begin to explain it but I have come to believe it. It's…" "Preordained," he added before she could finish. Sara nodded, "Yeah. Good word. It's preordained. We're preordained. Why are you laughing?" "You know, it's a good thing that you have a partner of my persuasion, Grasshopper. Whose people practically invented reincarnation. Otherwise, I might tell you that you're full of shit." And Sara had to laugh with him.

As she paid their check, she said to Danny, "So, do you forgive me for not telling you all of this sooner?" He smiled and responded, "I wish you had but I understand your reasons. I'm glad you finally told me." Sara breathed a sigh of relief, "And, you'll go easy on Ian at the wedding, right?" Danny just raised his eyebrow and walked out of the restaurant. As she followed him out, Sara ran a hand nervously through her hair and said, "Shit."

Friday, after work, Sara decided she had to finally do something that had been tugging at her since the weekend. She needed to go to St. Joan's Hospital to make her goodbyes. She sat on a chair by Conchobar's bedside listening to the soft sounds of the machines that were keeping him stable. There had been no change since she'd last been here. She stared at the handsome, quiet face and a tear rolled down her cheek. She took his hand, careful not to dislodge the IV needle in the back of it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I didn't plan on this happening with Ian any more than I planned on what I felt the first time that I saw you." She gently rubbed his soft, dry skin, "Maybe, when you come back, you'll let us be friends. I'd really like that." She put his hand back on the bed cover, then stood and sighed, "I needed to let you know why I won't be visiting as often. I owe my time to him now and I want to be with him whenever I can. Please try to forgive me. I'll always love you a little but I've given him my heart."

She dropped her head to hide the tears and turned out of Conchobar's room into the hospital corrider. And ran right into Ian. Sara gasped, eyes wide with shock, "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, "Are you following me again?" Ian stepped back from her and held up his gloved hands, "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I called your office and Jake told me that you were coming here before going home. I thought maybe I could catch you and we could get some dinner; talk about Sunday." He dropped his head, obviously upset, "I'm sorry that I intruded. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Sara took a deep breath and moved into his arms, still crying. Ian stroked her hair and said, "Is he alright? He didn't…" Sara shook her head where it rested against his chest. "No. There's no change," she whispered, "I just said goodbye to him is all. There's only you now." She actually heard his heart do a little skip. He yanked off his gloves and shoved them and his ring in his pocket. Then, he took her face in his hands and gently rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. "Hush, darling," he whispered, "Please don't cry. Tell me what I can do to make it better."

She took another shaky breath and managed a smile, "I don't think we can really do that here in the hallway," she said. The corner of his mouth quirked in response, "I'm game if you are," he replied. "I'll settle for a kiss," she said. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth to gently nibble and suck it. Sara moved back, flushed, and said, "We better go get some dinner right now or we will be doing it in the hallway." He caught her hand in his as they walked toward the front entrance and asked, "What are you hungry for?" She turned her head to look at him and he blushed.

They went to a nice, nondescript restaurant near the hospital. When they were seated and had ordered, Ian took her hand and his face suddenly lit up in a gorgeous smile. "You're wearing my watch," he said. Sara immediately pulled her hand back and began to remove the watch, saying, "I'm sorry. I forgot I was wearing it. Here, let me…" Ian quickly caught her hand again and said, "Sara, stop. It's nice that you're wearing it. Please, keep it on." Sara dropped her eyes and said, "Don't you need your watch?" He shook his head, "I've got another somewhere. I just didn't remember what I'd done with it. I really like knowing that you're wearing something of mine."

Sara looked up and met his eyes; and just stared. Ian blinked first. "What?" he asked. Sara shook her head a little to clear it. She'd felt like she was drowning. "Nothing," she said, "I guess I've just missed you." He smiled again like she'd just given him a present, "Me too. I'm not supposed to be here. I should have just called you but I couldn't stay away from you any longer. I knew that I'd never make it until Sunday," he stroked her hand, "I had to see you, touch you." Sara linked her fingers with his, "Where are you supposed to be right now?" she asked. "Running an errand," he replied, "I'm going to have to come up with an excuse for taking too much time. I know that I shouldn't have done this – that it's dangerous – but I couldn't help myself." She reached out to touch his cheek, "It's okay." He shut his eyes and turned to kiss the palm of her hand. "No, it's really not," he whispered in response, "I'm taking chances with your safety because my feelings for you are out of control."

Sara laughed softly. Ian's eyes flew open and filled with hurt because he thought she was laughing at him. Sara saw the look on his face and immediately said, "You don't understand. I was just thinking that we're quite a pair. I told Vicki the other day that I'd never been so out of control with a man as I was with you – that I want you all the time. I can't concentrate at work; I'm lost in daydreams half the day." Now, his eyes had gone dark for another reason. Sara laughed again. "You see?" she said, "I know exactly what you're thinking right now because I'm thinking it too." "Why not?" he asked. "Because I don't want a quickie with you," she responded, "I want to be able to take my time and we don't have any tonight. Sunday's only two days away." He let out a ragged breath, "That seems like forever to me right now." "I know, baby, I know," she whispered, "It does to me too. We better stop thinking about this right now or we'll both go crazy."

At that moment, the waiter brought their meals. Ian just picked at his food while Sara practically inhaled hers. She watched him move his fork absently around his plate. "Not hungry"? she asked. Their eyes locked again. "Not much appetite for food lately," he replied. Sara cleared her throat, "So, how are you getting past Irons on Sunday?" He went back to playing with his food, "He thinks I'm going to California to test a new security system. My flight leaves at 10:00 on Sunday morning and I'm not flying back in to JFK until 8:00 Monday night."

Sara's throat went dry, "So you could be at the loft by 10:00 Sunday morning and we don't have to be at the church until 2:00." Now, Ian caught what she was suggesting and smiled. She could feel the heat from across the table. "Earlier than that. I have to leave time to get to the airport and check in, after all," he said huskily, "I'll bring breakfast - about 8:00?" Sara smiled back at him, "That'll give us four hours before we have to shower and dress for the wedding." Ian raised an eyebrow, "Two hours to shower and dress? I think one of those hours could be put to better use. What do you think?" Sara grinned and replied, "I think that those eyes of yours should carry a warning label, pal."

He grinned back at her before he caught her hand again. He turned it over to look at his watch on her wrist. Ian shook his head in frustration, "I've got to get back. I've already been gone way too long." He brought her hand to his lips before putting it back on the table between them. She ran her fingers longingly over his, "No dessert again," she sighed.