Breathing Space

Sara woke before the alarm went off the next morning. She opened her eyes expecting to have her mug of coffee magically appear. When it didn't, she turned over to find Ian still asleep beside her. He was sound asleep in his usual position; on his back with one arm stretched above his head on the pillow. She gently pushed back a stray curl that had fallen across his cheek and he didn't even stir. Sara reached over to turn off the alarm and eased carefully out of bed. She shivered when her bare feet touched the cold floor. Still shivering, she made her way to the bathrooere ere she got her robe from the hook on the back of the door.

She started a pot of coffee for herself and decided that this morning she'd have a mug of his herb tea ready for Ian when he woke. She fillee tee teakettle and put it on to boil. Then, she opened the cupboard above the sink, figuring that Ian had probably stocked it already with his tea. She smiled when she found three new boxes of herb tea neatly stacked on the shelf. "He's so cute," she thought. Little odds and ends of his were beginning to turn up here and there in the loft – but they were never messy or intrusive. Not knowing which he'd prefer, she just grabbed the top box. She was momentarily stymied when she discovered that it was loose tea rather than bags. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" she thought. Fueled by a vague memory, she opened the drawer where she kept silverware to see if Ian had stashed a tea ball in there. And, of course, he had. She smiled and shook her head, "That's my Ian," she thought.

When the water boiled, she fixed his tea. She poured her coffee and carried both steaming mugs over to the bed where he was still asleep. She put thes ons on the bedside table and leaned over to gently kiss his lips. After a moment, she felt his arms come around her and his lips open beneath hers. She'd meant to just give him a good morning peck. Now, their tongues were sliding against each other, his arms were tightening around her, and she could feel the sudden aching wetness of her response to him.

She put a hand on his chest and pushed back. Breathless, she said, "We've got to stop doing this all the time or we're going to kill each other." He opened glazed golden eyes and said, "Okay." Her eyebrow lifted. "Okay, what?" she asked. "Let's just keep doing this all the time and see what happens," he replied, "I'll gladly risk my life." She ran her nails through the hair on his chest and he shivered. "You're awfully cavalier with my life there, ace," she said. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed, then licked the palm. After a moment, he said, "The Witchblade would save your life, Sara. And, if that's how you want to kill me, I'm a willing victim." They both saw the sudden red swirl in the stone on her wrist. Sara laughed and said, "Be careful what you wish for, pal." She eased her hand from his and got his tea from the table. "Here," she said. "You made me tea," he said, eyes wide. "Yeah, well, you were still asleep," she mumbled, "Just don't expect it every morning." He gave her a beautiful smile and took the mug. "Thank you," he said, "I won't." He sipped the tea, eyes shut, and said, "Mmmm, it's good."

Sara shivered and he immediately pulled down the covers. "Come under here where it's warm," he said. Sara's eyebrow went higher. "The word you were looking for is 'hot,' not warm," she replied, "And it I get under there with you now, I'll never make it to work on time." He shrugged and asked, "Would it be so terrible to be a little late?" "Yes," Sara replied, "it would. It would be the second time this week and Danny would make my life a living hell with Nottingham jokes." Ian's lips quirked, "Nottingham jokes?" "Yeah," Sara replied, adding, "Don't ask." Ian held up his hands in surrender, "I give up, detective. What can I get you for breakfast while you're taking your shower?" "Just some toast would be good," Sara said. "The toast and I are both yours," he said, "Give us a kiss before you go?" Sara smiled, unable to resist his silliness, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Which, of course, wasn't.

When her cell phone rang, Sara had her hands full of his silky hair, their tongues were one again exploring each other's lengths, and their bodies were molded together flat on the bed. Sara pushed away from him and sat up dazed. "Cell phone?" she managed to croak. "Coffee table," Ian managed to gasp in response. Sara unsteadily made her way to the coffee table. "Pezzini. Go," she said hoarsely. "Hey, Pez," Danny said, "Did I wake you?" "Nah," she replied, "What's up?" "From the sound of your voice, I'd say that the answer to that might be Nottingham," Danny replied, laughing. Sara gritted her teeth. "Did you call for a reason, partner?" she asked. "Yeah," Danny said, "We've got a call – an antiquities dealer murdered at 1111 W. Goethe. I'm on my way to pick you up. I should be by the loft in about twenty minutes. Will that give you and Ian enough time to finish up?" "I'll be waiting," she growled. Sara could still hear Danny laughing when she up. up. "What…?" Ian started. Sara held up her hand as she headed toward the shower. "Danny's going to be here in twenty minutes to pick me up," she said, "We've got a new case."

When she came out of the bathroom, Ian had toast and a fresh mug of coffee waiting for her. She ate as she dressed. Sara tried to give Ian a quick kiss as she headed out the door, but he pulled her tight into his arms for something a little more substantial. "Please be careful," he whispered before letting her go. Sara was waiting in front of the building when Danny pulled up. She slid into the car holding the travel mug that Ian had filled for her. Danny glanced at it and said, "Got him trained already, huh?" Sara frowned, "How do you know I didn't make this myself?" she growled. Danny's eyebrow lifted. "Right," he replied.

Sara just grunted and fortified herself with more coffee. "So what do we know about this guy?" she asked. "The notes that I took when the call came in are there on the seat," he replied. Sara picked up the notepad and read aloud, "Dr. Harley Moffett, dealer in antiquities. Housekeeper found him when she got to work at 6:30 and called it in. Uniforms arrived and secured the crime scene at 6:45. Did someone call Vicki?" Danny nodded. Sara took another big sip of coffee. She could tell that Ian had made a fresh pot because his coffee always tasted better than hers. "Why is that?" she wondereforefore she said aloud, "So, has anyone heard from Rosa yet?" Danny smiled, "Are you kidding? She and Mike probably haven't made it out of bed yet. First week of the honeymoon, remember? I figure that they'll probably surface to check in sometime after the weekend." Sara ran a hand through her hair. "Jeez," she said, "It seems like the wedding was already a couple of weeks ago. So much has happened since then."

"That's for sure," Danny replied, "So, am I going to be heading to your wedding anytime soon then?" Sara's eyes went wide and she choked on a sip of coffee, sputtering, "Whoa, where did that come from?" Danny smiled, "It's just that everybody was saying how you two looked so perfect together at the wedding. I think maybe Rosa and Lee are already planning your bridal shower." "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be getting the tux cleaned anytime soon, partner," Sara said, "After all, at this point, the groom could be programmed to kill the bride and take her pretty bracelet on their wedding night." Danny frowned as they pulled up in front of 1111 W. Goethe and muttered, "Yeah, there is that."

Sara and Danny processed the crime scene for the next two hours. Vicki had shown up shortly after they arrived and she was just getting ready to release the body to be transported back to the morgue. Vicki came over to Sara where she was going through the victim's desk and said softly, "You got a minute, Pez?" Sara didn't answer because she'd just found a slip of paper with Gabriel's phone number of it. "Pez?" Vicki repeated. Sara looked up, obviously distracted. Her eyes cleared and she said, "Sorry, Vick. What did you say?" Vicki repeated, "Can we talk for a minute outside?" Sara transferred the slip of paper she was holding in her gloved hands into an evidence bag, which she then slipped into the pocket of her jacket. "Sure," she said, following Vicki to the hallway beyond Moffett's cramped apartment.

Vicki leaned in and said, "I talked to Dr. Marx this morning." Sara frowned and asked, "Who?" "Peter Marx, the programming specialist at NYU. Remember?" Vicki responded. "Oh, yeah," Sara said, "So, what's the scoop?" "I got him just before he left for his lab. He can't wait to get his hands on Ian," Vicki said, adding, "Join the club. Right?" when she saw the look on Sara's face. Sara snorted, "Right." "He asked whether Ian could be at his lab at 2:00 this afternoon. I said that you or Ian would get back to him ASAP. What do you think?" she asked, handing Sara another slip of paper with the number for Marx's lab. "I think that's great," Sara replied, "Even if it doesn't help, it will keep Ian occupied and out of harm's way for a while. Just let me go call the loft and give him the news. Thanks, Vick. I can't tell you how much we both appreciate your help." "My pleasure," Vicky responded, "Now, I better get back to my stiff."

Sarayedayed in the hallway to dial the loft. After a couple of rings, Ian picked up the phone and cautiously said, "Hello?" "Hey, Baby," Sara said, "How you doing?" "Sara," he responded, pleasure filling his voice, "How are you? Was it a bad one?" Sara said, "Poor old guy beaten over the head with a missing blunt object. No discernible motive, no obvious suspects, yada, yada, yada. But I didn't call to talk about him."

She heard the sexy, playful tone take over, "Couldn't stand to be away from me this long without hearing my voice, huh?" he asked. Sara snorted, "In your dreams, pal. Nah. Vicki talked to that guy, Dr. Peter Marx, at NYU this morning and he wants you in his lab at 2:00 today. Can you make it?" There was a brief pause before he responded, "Sure, I guess so. Where is it?" "Here's the number," she said, reading it to him, "You need to call him to let him know you're coming and get whatever information you need." "I will," he replied, "I was thinking. We never formally celebrated our moving in together. What do you think about going someplace fancy for dinner tonight to make it official." "Maybe," she said, "Let's see how the day plays out. It's sometimes hard to know where a new case will take us and you may be wiped out after playing lab rat all afternoon. Let's see how we feel tonight. Okay? I need to go." "Okay," he said, "I love you." Sara looked around the hallway to see if anyone could hear, "Yeah, me too," she mumbled, before disconnecting.

Danny came out to join her in the hallway and said, "This is going to be a bitch. We're just about done here. I've got the uniforms interviewing the neighbors and I talked to the Housekeeper but there's nothing solid to go on so far…" His voice trailed off as he saw the look on her face. "What?" he asked. "I found Gabriel's phone number in the vic's desk," she said. "Ahhh," he replied, smiling. "I was planning to go over and talk to him today anyway because I want to see if he'll do some research related to Ian's problem for me," she said, "Now, of course, there's another reason." Danny raised an eyebrow, "Research into…?" "The black dragons; the Witchblade and its penchant for healing Ian," she replied. "Your bracelet has healed Ian?" Danny asked. Sara nodded, "Twice," then she held up a hand and added, "Long story. So, you want to come with me?" Danny studied her, "He might open up more with you if I'm not there." Sara looked uncomfortable, "Things have been just a little strained between Gabriel and me since the last showdown with Irons. Something happened between us and…I'd just like you to come with me." "You didn't sleep with him, did you?" Danny asked. Sara punched his shoulder and said, "Hey, what do you take me for? Not that it's any of your business but – no, I did not sleep with him. Can you let it go and come with me in your official capacity as my partner or not?" Danny grinned. "Sure. Should be interesting," he replied.

They banged on the door of Talismaniac but Gabriel didn't open it right away. When he finally did open the door, he looked exhausted. Sara took one look at him and immediately switched from detective into concerned friend. "Are you okay?" she asked after she and Danny had been ushered into the studio and the door triple-locked behind them. Gabriel dropped to his chair by the computer and said, "Moffett's dead, isn't he." She and Danny exchanged a look. Sara nodded. Gabriel sighed and said, "Then I guess you're here about the orb."

Sara glanced at Danny again, both of them trying to figure out just how deeply involved Gabriel was in the murder of Harley Moffett. Danny said, "The orb that Moffett had, you mean," Gabriel looked confused and said, "Yeah, you know - Cleopatra's orb. But Moffett didn't have it because I bought it from him yesterday. Boy, was he thrilled to have me take if off his hands too." "So, where is this orb now?" Sara asked. Gabriel got up and disappeared into his bedroom. They heard the sound of things being moved aside and some other unidentifiable noises. In less than five minutes, Gabriel returned balancing a shiny object in the palm of his right hand. On closer inspection, it was a crystal ball about the size of a baseball.

Sara reached for it with her right hand and a blinding white light arced between the orb and the Witchblade. Gabriel yelped and danced back out of her reach. "Hey, what are you trying to do, get us all killed? Are you nuts?" he cried, covering the orb with a blue velvet cloth that he had in his other hand. Sara shook her head to clear it. She felt as if a fairly strong electrical charge had just passed through her entire body. When she could speak again, she said, "What the hell was that?" She turned to check on Danny who was blinking rapidly, temporarily blinded by the searing light. "You okay?" she asked him. "Coming back," he replied, "You're looking less and less like a negative."

She turned back to Gabriel, who once again stepped back from her. "What the hell was that?" she repeated. Gabriel looked pointedly at the Witchblade before turning his gaze toward Danny. After a moment, she got his meaning. "I told Danny all about the Witchblade and Irons - pretty much all of it from the Museum on. You can say wver ver you want in front of him," she replied. Gabriel carefully put the covered orb on the table beside his computer and sat back down. He ran a hand through his long, unruly hair and said, "Okay. About a week ago, I started hearing rumors that Cleopatra's orb had surfaced and was on the market to the highest bidder." Sara held up a still shaking hand, "Hang on. Rewind," she said, "First of all, what is this orb thingy?"

Gabriel's mouth dropped open. "You mean you really don't know?" he asked, "Nottingham hasn't told you about it? I thought that you two were together now." Sara's eyes narrowed. "What does Ian have to do with all this?" she asked softly, "And how the hell do you know that we're together anyway?" "La Femme Nottingham told me," he said. Sara shook her head to clear it, "Who? Gabriel you really need to back up here because nothing that you're saying is making any sense to me at all." "Sorry," he responded, smiling slightly, "That's just my name for her. You know - this scary babe who's replaced Nottingham; Irons' new henchlady. I don't know her real name because she obviously didn't think that I had a need to know."

"Okay," Sara said, "Let's recap what we know here. Irons is apparently after this orb. He commissioned you to get it for him…" Gabriel held up his hand to halt her. "I was commissioned to try to procure the orb," Gabriel said, "I did not, however, know that it was Irons who was doing the commissioning because he used a third party. That came later." "Right," Sara said, "And, again I ask. What so special about this little glass ball?" "Well," Gabriel said, slipping into what Sara thought of as his 'teaching' voice, "there's not a lot of recorded lore to be found about the orb. Most of the texts that I could find agree that a powerful Ethiopian shaman created it for Cleopatra to link and focus her power with Antony's." "The Cleopatra?" Danny asked, "The one with the asp?" Gabriel grinned, "That's the one."

Sara sighed and asked, "Gabriel, what does the damn thing do? Besides shoot out rays of light and scare the shit out of everyone." Gabriel smiled at her colorful vocabulary, "It acts as a kind of amplifier and connector. It links the Witchblade and Excalibur. Then, it focuses their joined power into something that's pretty unimaginable, I guess. I couldn't find out much about what happens after the connection is made." Sara shut her eyes, her patience almost at an end. Danny looked at his partner, gauging her mood perfectly, and took over the questioning. "What's Excalibur?" he asked, "Besides King Arthur's sword, I mean."

Gabriel looked at them both, waiting for the punchline. When they just stared back, he said, "You're kidding, right?" In unison, Danny and Sara shook their heads. "Excalibur is Nottingham's ring," Gabriel said. And now Gabriel smiled at Sara, just a touch smugly, "So, Nottingham never told you about his ring,?" ?" Sara's eyes had now narrowed dangerously. "Tell me about Excalibur, Gabriel," she hissed. Danny shook his head and thought, "Ian, you are in deep, deep shit." "I'm really surprised that Nottingham never…," Gabriel started. It was as far as he got. "Gabriel," Sara said, her voice like a whip crack. Gabriel swallowed nervously and said, "Excalibur is an object of power like the Witchblade, just not as powerful. It's reputed to give its wearer certain powers – invisibility, for instance." She heard Danny snort derisively, but she thought of all those times that Ian had simply disappeared when she'd turned her head for just a moment.

"Excalibur's real power comes, though," he continued, "When it's joined with the Witchblade. The two objects – Witchblade and Excalibur – are supposed to become sort of a feminine/masculine, yin/yang uber power together.houthout the connector – the orb – there's just an echo of the real power." "What does that mean?" Sara asked. "Well," Gabriel replied, "Depending on how closely you're naturally attuned, you and Nottingham can probably share the Witchblade's visions, and maybe dreams. The Witchblade might protect him in some ways because of his connection to it. I've just read what little I could find about it. You tell me, Sara." But Sara was lost in thought and didn't answer him.

After a moment, she asked, "How is this power controlled?" Gabriel shrugged and said, "Yeah, there's the kicker. I haven't found any sort of record that shows that any of the Wielders and Protectors have been able to pull that off. Of course, I've only been digging for about a week. I've found some other interesting stuff though. For instance, the orb often seems to turn up after the Wielder and Protector have gone through some sort of joining ritual. Anything like that happen between you and Nottingham recently?" Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she recalled the night that the Witchblade had taken them on a sensual tour of their past lives. That was the night that she had first told Ian that she loved him. Her mind flashed her a vivid image of scarlet tendrils wrapping themselves around Ian's ring before embedding themselves in his wrist. Gabriel frowned and Danny cleared his throat. "I guess so," Gabriel mumbled.

Sara shook her head. "I don't understand why Irons is so interested in the orb," she said, "Wouldn't he have to have Ian and me to put it to any use?" "Oh. Well, see, there's another side to the orb's power," Gabriel replied, "In the hands of someone else who knows how to use it, it can, theoretically, also neutralize the combined power of Excalibur and the Witchblade." Sara looked at him. "Define neutralize," she said. Gabriel shrugged, "Sorry. I wish I could but, again, the texts are very, very vague."

Danny said, "Let's get back to Moffett for a minute here." He wanted to return olidolid ground for a little while – murder was something that he could understand. For the last few minutes, he'd begun to feel like he had fallen down the rabbit hole. Gabriel nodded, "As far as I can tell, the orb was unearthed about a week ago at an archeological dig in the south of England. By yesterday, it had fallen into Moffett's hands for sale to the highest bidder. Moffett wasn't what one would call a scrupulous dealer in antiquities. He had a reputation for dabbling in the black market. I'd been contacted earlier in the week by the third party that I mentioned and had put out feelers to show my interest in buying the orb. Moffett contacted me early yesterday, we came to an agreement, and I picked up the orb late in theningning."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Moffett was probably killed early yesterday evening. Why is he dead?" he asked. "I think that's my fault," Gabriel replied, "The third party contacted me yesterday afternoon to see whether I had procured the orb and I told her that I hadn't been able to do it. She must have then gone directly to Moffett and, of course, he told her that he'd sold it to me. She didn't believe him." Danny frowned. "La Femme Nottingham?" he asked. "Stop calling her that," Sara growled. Danny held up his hands. "Yeah, her," Gabriel whispered, "And I think that I'm overdue for another visit."

Sara had been pretty quiet through the whole Moffett dision.ion. Now, she asked Gabriel, "Why do you think Ian knew about the orb?" Gabriel shrugged, "I'm just making an assumption, Sara. He worked for Irons for all those years and was steeped in Witchblade lore. Excalibur and the orb are part of the Witchblade lore." She turned and looked him in the eyes. "So why haven't you mentioned either of them before now?" she asked. "Because I figured that Nottingham had already filled you in on his ring. What could I add to the knowledge of the Wearer," he replied, "And because the orb was lost – it hadn't surfaced for a couple hundred years. What was the point in bringing it up?"

"Why didn't you sell the orb to her?" Sara asked. Gabriel dropped his eyes, "Because by then I knew that she was just a front for Irons and I knew that if the orb fell into his hands, he'd use it against you." Now, Sara had to ask the question that she'd been dreading. "Where did you get the money to pay Moffett for the orb if you didn't take Irons' money, Gabriel?" He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I used my own money," he said. Danny glanced between them, aware that something was going on but not catching it. "Yeah, right," she said. She knew where the money had come from. No wonder he'd been upset that she was going to see Gabriel. "Jealous, my ass," she thought.

Sara stood from where she'd been leaning against Gabriel's work table and said, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're going to take the orb into custody as evidence in a murder investigation. We're also going to make it known that the orb is in police custody. With any luck, that will take some of the heat off of you." Gabriel finally raisis eis eyes to meet hers. "Thanks," he said. "You're not off the hook here," she said, "I want a favor in return." "Okay," he said cautiously. "I want you to keep researching this whole thing," Sara said, "I want to find out how the orb can be used to connect and focus the Witchblade and Excalibur. If Ian and I can learn how to become this super weapon, then we'll never have to worry about Irons again."

Gabriel gestured at the covered orb and said, "You know Irons probably has people in your precinct. The orb isn't going to be secure there." Sara nodded, "Yeah, I know. I think that I've got a place to stash it but I don't want to touch it again. Could you hold it for me, partner?" she asked Danny. "Sure," Danny said, gingerly reaching for the orb and putting it into the pocket of his jacket. "O" S" Sara said, "Let's take this thing and get it hidden away. Then, we can go back to the station and make our report." Sara looked at Ian's watch, which she now always wore on her left wrist. She frowned, "Then," she said quietly, "I'm going to go home and have a talk with Mr. Nottingham."

Sara had Danny drop her off at the Buell and then return to the precinct to start the paperwork on the Moffett homicide. She didn't want him to know where she'd hidden the orb; didn't want to take the chance of putting him and his family in danger. There was a tense moment when he transferred the orb from his jacket pocket to Sara's left hand. Both of them vividly remembered the blinding arc of energy that had flashed between the orb and the Witchblade at Talismaniac. Sara had a gut belief that she could handle the orb if it was out of direct alignment with the Witchblade. Of course, that's all it was – a gut belief. So, when the transfer was accomplished without either of them being incinerated, they were relieved.

When the orb was in her hand or pocket, Sara felt a constant low hum of energy coursing through her body. She tried to place a memory that kept tugging at her and realized it was like being in a room with a running generator – except that she was the generator. She couldn't wait to get the thing off of her and hidden away. As soon as she did that, she went back to the station to help Danny with the Moffett reports. She worked until 5:00 and then she couldn't stand it any more. Since she'd come into the precinct, her body had been there but her head had been back at the loft confronting Ian. "I've got to get this out of my system now," she thought, reaching for her jacket. Danny looked up as she stood to leave. He was actually amazed that she'd lasted this long.

Sara turned to head for the door, so preoccupied that she hadn't even said goodbye. Before she could leave, Danny said, "Sara." She stopped and turned back. "Give him a chance to explain before you jump all over him," Danny said softly, "Okay?" She took a deep breath before she jumped all over Danny. "Why are you defending him?" she asked. "I'm not," Danny replied, "I don't know his reasons any more than you do. I'm just thinking that the guy has had a very rough week. I also know that he's crazy in love with you so I doubt that his motives were malicious, probably just misguided." Sara's lips fought a reluctant smile, "I guess we're going to have to start calling you Dr. Ruth, huh?" He frowned, "You do and they'll be the last words to ever pass your lips." Now she did smile. "Yeah?" she challenged, "You and how many ninjas. Okay, okay. I'll give him a chance to tell me why I shouldn't wipe the floor with him right before I wipe the floor with him. Satisfied?" Danny spread his hands. "What more could I ask?" he said. "Later," she s wav waving as she walked through the door. "Later," Danny replied, a worried frown still on his face.

When Sara got to the loft, Ian wasn't back yet. So, she sat at the table waiting for him. She felt as if she was immobilized until she could get the things that were raging around inside of her out between them to clear the air. "And then what?" she suddenly thought. What if that was the end of whatever was between them? Could she deal with that? She shut her eyes tight and felt a wave of pain wash over her with that thought. With a kind of wonder, she thought, "I love him and I don't want to lose him." She sighed and said, "Shit," aloud to no one in particular. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out the present that she'd picked up for Ian yesterday. She'd been carrying it around with her, her hand straying to touch it throughout the day. She'd been planning to give it to him at their "living together" celebration tonight. She'd gotten him his own key to the loft; he'd been using the spare key that she kept for emergencies. She'd even tied a little red ribbon through it. "Well," she thought, slipping the key back into her pocket, "I guess you can't have too many spares."

And then she heard the spare key turning in the lock on the front door. For a moment, Ian's tall frame was silhouetted against the light in the hallway and she saw him rub his hand across his forehead as if he had a headache. Then, the light was gone as he closed the door. He walked straight to the table beside the sofa and turned on the light. His back still to her, he pulled off his brown leather bomber jacket and tossed it on the sofa. When he turned around, he started slightly, seeing her sitting at the table. A smile lit up his face as he started toward her saying, "Sara, what are you doing sitting here in the…" As he saw her more clearly, the look on his face changed to concern and he said, "What's wrong? Is someone hurt? Danny? Vicki? Gabriel?" Some of the color drained from his face as he continued, "Oh my god, is Gabriel hurt?" Sara held up a hand to stop him as he started to reach for her. "No one's hurt," she said, "Unless you count Harley Moffett."

She'd been watching his eyes and she saw the barest flicker of recognition that told her he recognized the name. "You know," she said, "for a trained assassin, yours res reveal entirely too much." Those eyes closed now for a moment and his shoulders slumped a little as if weight had suddenly been put on them. He opened his eyes again and sat across from her. "Only to you," he said softly, "Where I've taken down all the walls." "Have you?" she asked, "You could have fooled me." He ran a hand nervously through his hair, the touch so rough it snapped the cord holding it back and long, dark waves tumbled loose around his face. "I don't understand," he said, "Are you angry with me?" Sara leaned a little forward and said harshly, "C'mon, Ian. Cut the crap. Tell me all about your big adventure with the orb."

He tried to reach for her hand but she pulled it back. The silence stretched and then Ian said softly, "I'm sorry. I was just trying to help." "By putting Gabriel in danger?" she asked. He shook his head. "Gabriel was already in the middle of it when I got involved," he replied, "I didn't put him anywhere." Sara pointed a finger at him and he flinched back as if she'd struck him. "You didn't think I had a stake in any of this? You didn't feel that I had the right to know about this orb and what it does? Or, did you decide you couldn't tell me because then you'd have to explain why you've never told me about your ring - what it does and how it's connected to the Witchblade?"

He'd dropped his head during her tirade. Now, he raised his eyes to hers and she saw that he was afraid. Of what, she wasn't sure. "Are you at all interested in my answers to your quons ons or do you just want to beat me up for what you think I've done?" he asked. Sara rather ungraciously extended her hand to indicate that he had the floor. He pushed a hand through his hair again, tucking it behind his ear. "Okay," he said. "I knew what the orb was because I'd heard about it all my life. I also knew that it had been lost, out of circulation, for several hundred years. The first I knew that it had been found and was on the auction block was when Gabriel called me yesterday morning." Sara's head cocked to the side. "Yesterday?" she asked. "Yes," he said.

She waved her hand again, indicating that he should continue. "Gabriel said that he'd learned that Irons was trying to get the orb," Ian went on, "And that he could buy it out from under Irons if I could get him the asking price before noon. I asked Gabriel if he was sure that the orb was the genuine article. He assured me that it was. Knowing that the orb could, theoretically, cause you great harm if it fell into the wrong hands, I wired the money to Gabriel and he bought the orb." Sara pursed her lips and said, "It was my understanding that the orb could be used to harm both of us, not just me." Ian said, "Relatively speaking, my power is very limited, Sara. It only becomes substantial when it's linked to yours. The Witchblade is the real power. I'm just the consort. You're the queen."

He glanced at her to see if she wanted him to continue. Sara nodded. "I was planning to go by Talismaniac this afternoon to get the orb and secure it somewhere," Ian said, "Then – and you'll just have to trust me that this is the truth – I was going to talk to you about the orb, its power, and how we might put it to use together." Not giving him any indication whether she believed him, Sara asked, "So, why didn't you get the orb?" Ian smiled and said, "Because you called to tell me that I had an appointment with Dr. Marx at 2:00. Remember?" Sara looked down at the table and said, "Oh." "I never intended to put Gabriel in any danger. My only goal was to ensure that Irons didn't get the orb and to protect us," Ian said softly, "Things just happened so fast. I was reacting, not planning. I'm sorry if you feel that I shut you out. All I can say is that wasn't my intention. Please forgive me?"

Ian tried to reach for her hand again and she moved them to her lap. He sighed and said, a little desperately, "Sara?" "Tell me about Excalibur, Ian," she said. He rubbed a shaking hand across his forehead and shut his eyes for a moment. Then, he said, trying to make light of it, "I want credit for fulfilling the requirements of our bet." Sara didn't smile. "Why?" she asked. He laughed weakly and said, "Excalibur was going to be the first secret that I shared with you." "How convenient for you," Sara replied. He nervously twisted the object in question on his finger. "I know, I know," he said, "You'll never believe that now. You probably won't believe anything that I tell you now. And, I'm not sure that I can make you understand why I never said anything about my ring anyway." "Try," Sara said drily.

"I've had the ring as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I wore it on a chain around my neck. It didn't fit on my finger until I was sixteen. The first time that I put it on, that it fit me without falling off, was an occasion," Ian said, "Irons watched me to see what would happen. According to the lore, I was supposed to be able to use the ring to manifest certain powers. And I could feel the power right away; the sort of incipient possibilities there inside the ring. But I told him that nothing happened – that I didn't feel a thing. I lied to him." Sara looked at him curiously. "Why?" she asked. "Because by then, he'd started to test me, to beat me. He never hit me when I was little," he replied, "I wanted something of my own, something that was just mine. I didn't want to share it with him. It was a tremendous disappointment to him. My secret gave me power – no matter how much of an illusion that was."

"Okay," Sara said, "I understand why you hid the ring's power from Irons. What I don't understand is why you hid it from me." Ian sighed again. "This is really hard for me to explain," he said. Sara wasn't about to let him off that easily. "And, once again, I say 'try'," she replied. "Alright. I'll give it a shot," he said, "I've been alone my whole life, Sara. I'm not looking for your sympathy. That's just the way it was. He never really gave me much affection and, when it was there, it could disappear the next second. If one of my caretakers developed a fondness for me, they'd simply disappear to be replaced by someone less caring. I learned to keep whatever I was feeling locked up tight. I learned not to share myself. Mr. Irons felt that if I had no emotional attachments, it made me stronger, more what he wanted me to be. Are you with me so far?"

She wanted to pull him into her arms and she fought it, saying, "Yes, I'm with you. Go on." "For the longest time after we met, it seemed like you couldn't stand me – no matter what I did, no matter how many times I tried to warn you or help you," he said softly, "I wasn't about to give you intimate details that I hadn't shared with anyone else then. And, of course, if I had, you would have been horrified. So, our relationship became something else. In fact, I got a real kick out of driving you crazy with the ring's invisibility. It became a kind of game with me." Sara frowned and he held up a hand. "Before you get too huffy," he said, "Just honestly remember the way that you were treating me then." She nodded grudgingly to concede his point. "Keep talking," she said.

"Then, when we got together at the cabin, it was like a miracle had happened," he said, wonder filling his voice, "I'd never been touched like that. I'd never slept, just slept, with another human being. It was so intimate, so close, that I was just overwhelmed. I was already in love with you but, after the first time we made love, I was completely lost." This time, she let her hand drift across the table toward him, and he grabbed it in both of his and held on. He took a deep breath and continued, "I had no experience in how to act. I was terrified that I'd do the wrong thing and you'd stop wanting me." She heard the tone of his voice change, the pain still evident, "And the next day, that's exactly what happened. I stupidly tolu hou how I felt and you told me that you didn't want me."

"Ian...," she started. "No, it's okay," he interrupted, "I know now that you were dealing with your own issues that day. And, besides, I'd found what I wanted and I wasn't going to let go of it that ey. Sy. Since then, I've been learning, Sara. I'm learning every day from you. But, please, be patient with me. All of this is still so new. I'm going to make mistakes. Not telling you about my ring sooner was a mistake. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hide things from you or keep secrets. I'm just not used to having someone like you in my life. I'm not used to having someone that I love to share these things with."

She didn't say anything, digesting his words, but he was too spooked to stand her silence for very long. His hands tightened around hers and he begged, "Please say something, Sara. I know that I didn't explain myself very well. I don't know what else to say or do. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it. I'll do anything." She could sense his growing panic and she shifted her hand to stroke his, saying, "It's okay, Ian. Calm down." He dropped his head and she could feel the tremors running through him from where bois his hands held her left hand in a death grip. "Please don't leave me," he whispered. She moved her other hand from her lap and raised his chin to look into his eyes. They were awash with tears and filled with pain. Startled by his overreaction, she quickly said, "I'm not going to leave you, Ian. Take it easy. You're getting yourself all worked up here."

He raised one of his hands to again rub his forehead in that gesture that she'd noticed earlier. Sara thought, "Something isn't right here. This isn't normal, even for him." She caught the hand that he was lowering in hers and asked, "Are you okay?" His eyes met hers and she could see that he was still shaken. "I think, maybe, I'm getting sick," he said, "Except that I r ger get sick." Now, she was worried. She half stood and leaned across the table to put her palm on his forehead. It was burning. Frowning, she said, "You've got a fever, I think. Don't move."

She went to the bathroom and rummaged around ie mee medicine cabinet for several minutes before unearthing a thermometer that she hadn't used in years. She came back to him shaking down the thermometer and squinting at the reading. "Open up," she said. She slid the thermometer under his tongue and stood by him, worriedly stroking his hair, while she waited for the reading to register. After a few minutes, she removed the thermometer. While she was reading it, Ian slipped his arms around wai waist and dropped his head to her breasts. She squinted again at the reading, still stroking his soft hair. She twisted the damn thing this way and that until she could finally read what it said - 102.6.

"Okay, buster," she said, "You're going to bed. Can you take aspirin?" She felt him shiver against her as he said, "I can't take anything. My metabolism has been altered too much by all the chemicals that I was given." She rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit," she said, "You're a mess. What am I going to do with you?" He shut his eyes and leaned back into her hand. "Whatever you want," he whispered hoarsely, "Just don't leave me." She ruffled his hair and said, "Jeez, take it easy. Okay? I'm not going to leave you. What I'm going to do is put you to bed and try and figure out some way to get that fever down without aspirin. Because, if I can't and it goes up, I've got to get you to the emergency room." That brought his head back up. "No doctors," he said. "Yeah, I remember that you're not fond of doctors, Ian," she replied, "But we may not have a choice."

She took his hand and led him over to the bed, where she sat him down. "Where do you keep those fancy silk pajamas of yours?" she asked. "Wardrobe, second drawer from the top," he croaked. She stroked his cheek and he leaned into her hand. "You’re losing your voice, aren't you?" she asked. He nodded. She went to the wabe abe and opened the drawer he'd indicated. "Wow," she laughed. "What?" he whispered. She pulled out a pair of red silk pajamas and said, "When you're feeling a little better, I want to see you in these." He actually managed a grin. She pulled out one of the several pairs of black silk pajamas she found, along with a black silk robe, and shut the drawer. She brought him the pajamas and robe. "Can you get changed while I make you the famous Pezzini hot toddy?" she said, "Maybe we can sweat the fever out of you." He nodded and whispered, "Not sure I can keep anything down." "Did you get sick earlier?" she asked. He nodded. "Well," she said, "It's worth a try. I'll be right back."

By the time she got back, steaming concoction in hand, Ian had changed to his pajamas and gotten under the covers. From two feet away, she could see that he was shivering. Sara put the mug on the bedside table and went to the sofa to get the quilt draped over the back of it. She spread it on top of him. At that moment, an enormous sneeze shook him. Sara had to laugh at the look of utter surprise on his face. She grabbed a bunch of tissues from the table and handed them to him. He buried his face in the tissues and blew his nose. Sara sat on the bed beside him and reached over to hand him the steaming mug. He raised his eyebrow. "C'mon, Ian," she said, "Just try it." He sipped from the mug and smiled. "Good," he said in a barely audible croak. "Ummm," Sara replied, "If you can keep it down, it's going to knock you on your beautiful ass." He kept it down and was out like a light in less than 15 minutes. And, for the first time since she'd shared his bed, he snored. Sara leaned over to brush back his hair and kiss his forehead, which was still way too hot. She turned down all the lights to let him sleep off the fever and went to make herself some dinner.

Sara changed into the shorts and tee that she used for sleeping. Then, she had a can of tomato soup and sat down to read a magazine article in the dim light. About 10:00, she checked Ian to find that he'd kicked off the quilt. She put her hand on his forehead and she thought that the fever might have dropped a bit. He made a sniffling noise in his sleep and then let loose another colossal sneeze that woke him. She grabbed some tissues and stuffed them into his hand. He blew his nose and curled his body toward where she now sat on the bed. She pulled the quilt back up to cover him and he cuddled against her, still half asleep. "How do you feel?" she whispered. "Hot," he rasped, trying to push the quilt back down. She caught his hand and said, "No. Keep the quilt on. We're trying to sweat the fever out of you." He fought her weakly, saying, "It's too damn hot, Sara."

"Want an alcohol rub?" she asked. Now, his sleepy golden eyes opened and focused on her. She smiled. "I thought that might peak your interest," she said. "Come to bed," he whispered, "I miss you. I'm not used to sleeping alone any more." He made a grab for her as she got rom rom the bed and missed entirely. She laughed and said, "Hang on, ace. I'm just going to get the alcohol and some towels. You could probably use a fresh pair of pajamas too. I bet those are all sweaty." She got the things she needed and came back to the bed. She pushed down the quilt and touched his chest. The pajama top was soaked through. "Here, sit up a minute," she said, pulling him toward her, "Put your arms around me and hold on." He sat up and dropped his head to Sara's shoulder, nuzzling his lips against her neck. She held him back just a little so that she could unbutton his pajama top, which she then slipped off of his shoulders.

She pushed him back down on the bed and dropped the sweaty pajama top on the floor. Then, she poured a little puddle of alcohol into the middle of Ian's chest. His eyes had drifted shut again and he wasn't expecting the cold alcohol. His eyes flew open and he made a hissing noise in his throat, trying to sit up. Sara put one hand on his shoulder to hold him down while she started rubbing the alcohol into his chest with the other. Her hand moved in slow, soothing circles and he gradually relaxed back into the bed, making that soft purring sound that she loved. She smiled and poured a little puddle of alcohol into his belly button. He slid his hand up her arm and said in a gravely whisper, "Hey, quit playing with the body parts. I'm a sick man."

As she rubbed alcohol across his flat, hard stomach, he arched up and pushed off the pajama bottoms. She raised an eyebrow and said, "I take it that's a request to move the alcohol rub lower?" "Yes, please," he whispered. "You know," she replied, "I kind of like this new voice of yours. It's very sexy." He caught her rubbing hand in his and tried to pull it lower as he said, "It's called a sore throat." She gently disengaged his hand and said, "I'm not going to get you all worked up again when you're sick, Ian. No matter how much you may think you want it. Roll over." "Shit," he mumbled asrollrolled over on to his stomach. She lightly smacked his bare bottom and said, "What did you just say, Mr. Nottingham? Are you starting to pick up my bad habits now? I've never heard you use that word before."

When she poured a trail of cold alcohol down middmiddle of his back, Ian squirmed against the mattress and whispered crossly, "You're right. That's so much better than what I wanted you to do." Sara grinned and started to rub the alcohol into his back. "My goodness," she said, "We're cranky, aren't we? We must be feeling a little better." In the same tone of voice, he whispered, "I don't know about you. I feel about the same." She finished stroking the alcohol into his back and then rubbed her hands together to warm them up. She moved down on the bed a bit and slipped her hand between his legs and up under him. She heard him gasp and he tried to turn on his side to make it easier for her to reach him. "Wait," she said, moving her hand back out so that he could turn over.

She grabbed the towel she'd been using and then reached down to hold his growing erection in her hand. "You're really sure this is what you want?" she asked. "Are you kidding?" he whispered, "Don't tease me now, Sara. I'm not in the mood." She caressed him the way she knew he liked and he strained up against her hand. In a couple of minutes, he let out a hoarse cry and arched up off the bed, coming into the towel that she held. She dropped the wet towel next to the bed with his discarded pajamas and thought, "I better do laundry tomorrow." She snuggled into bed next to him and pulled the covers and quilt up over them both. He curled his body close to hers and whispered, "Thanks, I needed that." She put her arms around him and said, "Happy to be of service." She heard a soft, congested laugh and in no time he was sound asleep again. Sara drifted off soon after.

When she woke up on Friday morning, she turned off the alarm and reached over to very carefully touch Ian's forehead – she didn't want to wake him. "He's still got a fever," she thought, "but I don't think it's as bad as it was last night." She slipped out of bed and took her cell phone into the kitchen with her. While she hit speed dial for Danny, she started making coffee. She knew that he'd be up this early because they had to get the kids out to school. Lee answered the phone and made a bit of small talk before passing the phone over to Danny.

"Hey, partner," she said. "Hey," he responded, "So, did you kill Ian last night?" "Nah," she replied, "He cleverly evaded the wrath of Pezzini by getting sick." "Ian's sick?" Danny asked. "Yeah, I think it's probably some kind of virus. He had a pretty high fever last night," she said, "I think it's dropped a bit this morning but I'd really like to stay home with him today. Do you think you can do some of the Moffett paperwork without me? I know that we need to go see Irons and his new bodyguard but I want to come with you for that so maybe we could do it Monday. We both know there isn't going to be forensic evidence to get a conviction on this one, right?" "Not if La Femme…, not if this bodyguard is a pro – which I'm sure she is," Danny replied, "Sure, I can handle things today. Go ahead and nurse your boy back to health." "You sure about this?" she asked. "Absolutely," he replied, "I'll let TPTB know you're taking a vacation day and if anything pops, I'll call you. Tell Ian to get well. Later." "Thanks, partner," she responded, "Later."

She put on the kettle for Ian's tea and poured herself some coffee. While she waited for the water to boil, she gathered the dirty laundry from around the loft and put it in the washer. She got everything ready to go but didn't turn it on because she wanted to let Ian sleep. When his tea was ready, she again carried both mugs to the bed and put them on the bedside table. Then, she got the thermometer from the dining table and went back to sit on the bed. She turned to look at him and found that he was awake, regarding her with somewhat clearer eyes and looking less flushed. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and he turned his face to kiss it. "Hey, ace," she said, "Feeling a little bit better this morning?" "Much better," he tried to say but his voice was still just a weak croak.

Sara held up the thermometer that she'd just shaken down. "Open up," she said, putting it under his tongue again. She sipped her coffee while they waited for the thermometer to register and Ian looked longingly at the mug of tea. When she removed and read the thermometer, she saw that Ian's temperature had dropped to101.2. "Well," she said, handing him his tea, "It's better. But you should really take it easy the next couple of days, especially since you're not used to being sick. I think you should probably stay in bed yet today." She could tell by the sudden stubborn set of his lips that he wasn't going to go for that. "What am I supposed to do alone here in bed all day while you're at work?" he rasped. "First of all," she replied, "You won't be alone because I'm staying home with you today. And, there are plenty of things that you can do in bed." She heard his weird, hoarse laugh and said. "No, smart ass. That isn't one of them. How about reading a book? You like that."

"You took the day off to stay with me?" he whispered. When she saw the look on his face, she melted, "Well, don't go all mushy on me now. You just obviously can't take care of yourself when you're like this, that's all." "That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for me," he said. "Well, good," she said, uncomfortable with his obvious adoration, "then don't give me any trouble. Do you think you could eat something – maybe oatmeal?" When he made a face, she said, "See, causing me trouble already." "I'm sorry," he said, "I'll try to eat whatever you want me to eat." She grinned. "Now you're getting the idea," she said, "Drink your tea while I make you some nice, nutritious oatmeal."

After breakfast, a shower, and clean pajamas, Ian was looking a lot better. It was still early and Sara finally thought to ask him whether she should call the lab for him to tell them he wouldn't be coming in. Ian shook his head and said, "No need. Dr. Marx has some kind of faculty conference today so I wasn't going in anyway. We won't be starting the real work until Monday." He was sitting on the sofa with the quilt wrapped around him. Sara went over and cuddled up next to him under the quilt. He slid his arm around her and pulled her close. "What did you do with him yesterday?" she asked. "Nothing much," he responded, his voice still faint, "Filled out a lot of forms. Took a bunch of tests." "Did you like him?" she asked. "He seems okay, I guess," Ian said, "Sort of preoccupied with his work. I felt like I was more of an interesting specimen to him than a person. But he's certainly excited to be working with me. He said he couldn't believe he's going to get to test a 'real Black Dragon'."

"So," she said, "You want to watch some TV or talk about the orb." Ian sneezed and Sara grabbed some tissues out of the box on the coffee table and handed them to him. He blew his nose and groaned. "Is your nose getting sore?" she asked. He nodded. "We can put some cream or Vaseline around it. Want me to get some?" "Not right now, thanks," he whispered, "It's not that bad. I have some ideas about the orb. Want to hear them?" "Sure," she replied, "Fire away." "As I understand it, using the orb to connect and focus our power is a very dangerous proposition," he said, "Gabriel could find no record of any Wielder and Protector successfully using the orb."

"Which doesn't necessarily mean that it hasn't been done or that it couldn't be done," responded Sara. "True," he said, "It just means that we have no blueprint to use. We have to find our own way. My thought is this. That, before we use the orb for the first time, we strengthen our connection to each other without it." "How do we do that?" Sara asked. "Several ways that I can think of," he said, "We can meditate together. Link the Witchblade and Excalibur to share dreams and visions. We can work out together. Build our joined strength and know how to connect to each other without the orb before we throw that unknown into the mix. What do you think?" "I think that you're a very smart man," she said, "And that I love you."

"Sara," he said, leaning in to kiss her, "Do you have any idea what happens inside me every time you say that?" The kiss deepened until Ian abruptly pulled back and turned away. Another explosive sneeze followed. This time he grabbed his own tissues. "Sorry," he said. Sara shook her head, "If I don't get this, it will be a miracle." "There's another method that I've been giving a lot of thought too," he said. "And that is?" she asked. "Erotically," he whispered. Sara smiled, "I just bet you have." "It makes sense," he replied, "It's how the Witchblade first connected us. It's certainly something that we can play with." "Interesting choice of words," she teased.

"And, there's one last thing I thought of that I might try," he said. "Okay," she said, "Don't keep me in suspense. What is it?" "Find Lazar," he whispered, "And see whether he's willing to teach us."

"Who the hell is Lazar?" she asked, "Someone else that no one thought I needed to know about?" "You know about Lazar," he said, "You just don't realize it." Suddenly her eyes widened, "Is he the old guy with the weird eyes and the kind of stringy blond hair that shows up when I'm trying to figure out whether I should use the Witchblade?" Ian smiled, "See? You know a lot more than you think you do." "Okay," she said, excited, "So, who is he?" "I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you there," he said, watching her excitement die, "I don't know much more about him than you do. Even Irons only had some educated guesses about who he is and how he relates to the Witchblade. We only know that there is a connection."

"And, of course," she said, sarcastically, "As we also know, everything is connected." Ian smiled. "What makes you think that he'd be willing to help us?" Sara asked. Ian shrugged and said, "It's just always seemed to me that when he has shown up in the past that his purpose has been to help us." "Ummm," Sara said, "Did you know that he told me to use the Witchblade to heal you when I pulled the arrow out of you?" Now, Ian looked excited. "No, I didn't," he said, "He actually spoke to you?" Sara shook her head. "Not out loud," she said, "It's kind of hard to explain. He looked at me and nodded, and I just sort of knew what to do."

They were silent a couple of minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, then Sara said, "How do we contact him?" "I haven't a clue," Ian responded. Sara punched his arm and said, "You're a big help, aren't you, ace?" "I guess I'm hoping that he might come to us," Ian said, "I'm sure that he'll know that the orb has been found. He'll probably know that we've got it rather than Irons. Where is it, by the way?" "In a safe place," she replied, "Where I can get to it quickly, if I have to. Do you need to know more than that right now?" "No," he said, "If you think it's safe, that's good enough for me." Sara leaned over and rubbed his stomach through the thin silk pajamas. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "A lot better," he responded. "You sound better," she said, "I think your voice is coming back. Well, we both have a free day and you're feeling better. What would you like to do? And, screwing our brains out isn't an option." He laughed. "What makes you think that was my first choice?" he asked. Sara raised an eyebrow. "Prior experience," she said.

"I know what I want to do tonight," he replied, holding up a hand to add, "And, why don't you let me finish before you raise that eyebrow any higher." She regally waved at him to continue. "I want to have the celebration that we were going to have last night," he finished. She pushed a stray curl behind his ear and said, "Honey, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to go out this soon. I know you feel better but I don't think you should go out tonight." "That's okay," he said, "We don't have to go out – just leave everything to me. All you have to do is dress up and show up." Sara regarded him cautiously and said, "Dress up as in…?" He laughed, "Detective, get your mind out of the gutter. I just meant put on a pretty dress. I wasn't suggesting that we play pirates and booty...yet" "Oh," she said, a little disappointed.

Sara disengaged herself from Ian and the quilt to go over to her single small closet. "I don't really have much in the way of fancy," she said. She pulled out the dark green dress that she'd worn to Rosa's wedding and put it back just as she felt Ian come up to stand behind her. "The only other thing I have is…" she mumbled, pulling out the short black outfit that she'd worn last for Daniel Germaine. She felt Ian stiffen close behind her and say, "No. Not that," his voice rough with pain. Still holding the dress, Sara turned to look at him. Ian saw shock and what might have been revulsion shift within her eyes. "You were watching me with him?" she asked, looking into his eyes. She must have seen confirmation there because she added, "You stayed for the whole show, didn't you."

Ian went back to the sofa. He sat, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "And there's my second secret," he said softly, the pain still apparent in his voice, "You can't say that I'm not keeping up my end of our bet. I've ruined it for us again, haven't I?" Sara tossed the outfit she still held to the floor of the closet. "Damn thing's been nothing but bad luck all around," she thought. She looked at him, hunched over on the sofa, miserable and hating himself again. "He was laughing just a few minutes ago," she thought, "Excited about planning our 'living together' celebration for tonight. This has got to stop once and for all."

Sara remembered Danny saying that Ian had had a rough week when he suggested that she go easy on Ian. "It's been longer than that," she thought, "He's been on an emotional roller coaster since the night we made love at the cabin." He had his first sexual experience and told me he loved me, only to hear that none of it had meant anything to me. Then, Irons beat him within an inch of his life for disobedience. Then, the Witchblade took us on a National Geographic sexual history tour and I realized that I loved him. Then, he's put on display for all my friends at Rosa's wedding. Then, he leaves Irons for good to start a new life with me. Then, the horrible nightmares that he thought were gone come back. Then, he finds out that some nasty trigger that Irons had programmed inside of him has been turned on. Then, the dangerous orb that's been out of circulation for hundreds of years reappears and I accuse him of keeping his ring's power a secret from me.

"God in heaven," she thought, "No wonder he got sick. It's a miracle that the stress didn't just kill him outright." She ran a hand through her hair. "I can't keep blaming him for the things he did when he was Irons' creature," she thought, "And neither can he. That's the past and we've both got to let it go for good. If he keeps hitting these emotional potholes, eventually one of them will break him into a million little pieces that I won't be able to put back together." She went over to the sofa and sat next to him. "Look at me, Ian," she said. He sat up, raising his eyes to meet hers and she could see thlf-llf-loathing in them. She also saw him shift his body slightly. "Oh, baby," she thought, knowing exactly what he'd done. He's bracing himself for the blow just like he used to do with Irons. "This has got to end," she said. Now, she saw the fear appear in his golden eyes. "Please, Sara," he whispered, "I'm so sorry…"

"No," she said, interrupting him, "You don't understand. Calm down. I don't mean that we should end. I mean that I've got to stop blaming you and, more important, you've got to stop blaming yourself for the things that you did when you belonged to Irons. We've got to move on. We've got to start fresh." "Can you do that?" he asked, "I saw what was in your eyes just now when you knew what I'd done. I've done much worse things in my life than watch you and Germaine make love. Can you just forget that?" "I can do whatever I have to do because I love you, Ian," she said.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he looked at her and said, "I guess if you can love and forgive me, I can try to learn to forgive and stop hating myself. So, from here on, it will just be you and me with no past, only a future." Sara smiled. "That's my baby," she said, putting both her hands in his long, silky hair and pulling him to her for a deep, hard kiss. Ian slid his arms around her, holding her tight against him. Their tongues danced together until they finally had to pull apart to breathe. Sara dropped her head against his shoulder. "I lied," she said, panting, "I do want to screw your brains out in bed all afternoon and I want to start right this minute." "Sara…," he started to say. But she gasped, "Please, Ian. I want you badly and I want you right now." That was all the encouragement that he needed. He stood and lifted her into his arms, carrying her over to the unmade bed. He laid her gently on the bed and rolled on it next to her.

Sara turned to him and tore open the black silk pajama top, causing buttons to fly off in all directions. Ian moaned softly as she pushed the torn garment off his shoulders, her lips fastening on his nipple, sucking and teasing him between her tongue and teeth. Ian buried his fingers in Sara's thick hair, holding her lips against his chest. In a moment, her right hand snaked under his pajama bottoms to stroke him. He shifted his hands under him so that he could kick off the pajama bottoms, tearing them himself when they didn't come off quickly enough. Ian tried to slide his hand under Sara's tee but her clothing was in his way. He caught her hand where she stroked him and said, "Stop a minute." She raised her head from his chest, eyes dazed. He smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her. "Too many clothes in the way," he said. He pulled her tee shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Sara lay back on the bed while he pulled her sweatpants down and off her legs. They fell next to the shirt.

He spread her legs apart, kneeling between them. Then, he pulled her down the bed toward him, draping her legs over his shoulders. In moments, Sara's body was arching up off the bed in response to his tongue, which seemed to be teasing her to utter madness. She dug her fingers into his hair, urging him closer and deeper. Somewhere after her third orgasm, she needed to feel him inside her. She gave his hair a little tug and said, "Now, please." He raised his head and asked, "How?" She arched, aching for him, and whispered, "Doggy." The golden eyes widened, confused, and Sara laughed hoarsely. "From behind," she said, "Like you did it before." Now, he laughed, understanding. "What an awful analogy for such a wonderful feeling," he said.

He turned Sara over and entered her from behind, stroking her with his thumb as he did. They were both too worked up for it to last very long. The resulting orgasm seemed to catch them both simultaneously and before either of them were expecting it. They strained against each other hard, Sara forcing herself back against him and gripping his arm where he held her to him; Ian thrusting forward and pulling Sara to him with all his strength. Then, they both went limp. Ian rolled to the side, holding her tight against him, still inside her. Sara made a contented sound in her throat and whispered, "I feel much better now." She heard his soft laugh right before she drifted off to sleep. When he was sure that she was asleep, Ian very gently eased himself away from her and went to the phone to make his arrangements for the evening's celebration.

At 6:00 P.M. on the dot, Sara felt soft lips kissing her awake. She slipped a languid arm around his neck and deepened the kiss. "Mmmm," she whispered, when their lips parted, "That's a nice way to wake up." "I need you to take a long bath," he said. Sara laughed and said, "What?" He pushed her hair back from her face and said, "I need to get you out of this room for about an hour. I thought a long, hot soak in the tub might be nice for a change. What do you think?" She looked at him like he was nuts. "I don't do baths," she said, "I do showers." "Work with me here, Sara," he said. She smirked, "This better be good if I get all pruny for it, ace." He gave her the slow, hot smile that turned her into a puddle and said, "I promise to make it worth your while."

Sara took the robe that he handed her and headed for the bathroom, throwing a curious glance at him over her shoulder. Sara ran a hot tub using the expensive smelling bath oil that he'd left in the bathroom for her. While she soaked, occasionally running fresh water into the tub to keep it hot, she heard other voices and noises in the rooms beyond the door. At 7:00, he knocked on the door. "Who is it?" she said. "Very funny," he replied, "I'm hanging something on the back of the door for you. Everything else is in the shopping bag. Let me know if you need something. Just come out when you're ready." Sara got out of the tub and dried herself off.

Fingers itching, she pulled down the zipper on the garment bag that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Inside, was the most beautiful dress that she'd ever seen. It was moss green and filmy. It was cut low; had long, flowing sleeves that would fall back to expose her arms; it was long enough to skim her ankles. In the shopping bag, were high heels that matched the dress; a bra and panties that were mere wisps in the same color; and another little blue velvet jewelry box. The diamond heart that Ian had given her hung around her neck. She hadn't taken it off since he'd put it on her. She opened the box to find a beautiful pair of emerald earrings. She laughed, delighted, and thought, "My jewelry collection has certainly improved since Ian's become my lover." After she was dressed, Sara turned to look in the mirror and barely recognized herself. She thought, "I look like a fairy princess." She took a deep breath and opened the door, leaving the bathroom in a shambles behind her.

And stepped into fairyland. The hundreds of white candles on every available surface cast flickering shadows across the walls and ceiling of the loft. Containers of white roses were everywhere and the scent was intoxicating. She'd stopped in the kitchen, transfixed. Now, Ian stepped into the kitchen doorway, wondering what had happened to her. He'd heard the bathroom door finally open but Sara hadn't appeared. Her mouth dropped open. He was wearing a tux and his hair was pulled back tight. He looked like something that had escaped from an erotic fantasy. She realized that he must be thinking along the same lines because his eyes were doing a slow tour of her from head to foot and the look on his face made her ruin her tiny new panties.

"You look incredible," he said, his voice husky. u tou too," she replied, "Thanks for the earrings. They're beautiful." He shrugged as if it was nothing. He red red his throat and held out his hand to her. "Dinner's ready," he said. "You cooked and you can still look like that?" she asked. He shook his head. "It's delivery," he said, "French." Sara frowned, "I beg your pardon?" "The food," he said, "It's French." "You found a Frencstaustaurant that delivers?" she asked. "I know the chef," he said, "Also, I gave him a lot of money." She took his hand, feeling a little thrill run through her as they touched. "This is nuts," she thought, "I just spent the afternoon in bed with him. How can I feel like we're on our first date?"

There were more candles on the table. It was set with linens and china that were much too nice to be hers. "Wow," she said, "Where did all this stuff come from?" "Don't ask," he replied, "Just enjoy." He held out her chair for her and Sara sat feeling very much like a lady. It was an odd sensation for her. He pulled a bottle of champagne out of a bucket and Sara laughed, thrilled. "What?" he asked. She clapped her hands like a child and said, "I've only ever seen those in old movies. It's great!" He grinned,oyinoying her delight. He poured them each a glass of champagne and said, "To new beginnings," touching his glass to hers. They took a sip and Sara said, "Wait. I have a toast too." He held up his glass, waiting for her and she said, "To my lover, the beautiful magician." She watched the color rise into his cheeks as he touched his glass to hers. "Thank you, Sara," he said.

They worked their way slowly through appetizer to dessert, everything superb. After Sara put her spoon down beside the delicate dessert dish, she asked him, "What was that called again?" "Crème Brule," he responded. "You should never have let me find out about it. Now, I'll want it all the time," she said. "I'll get it for you whenever you want," he assured her. Sara's eyes widened, shocked. "The hell you will," she said, "I'll be big as a house." He took her hand and kissed it, "It wouldn't matter." She looked into those jungle-cat eyes, which were doing things in the candlelight that made her stomach flutter. "No?" she asked. He shook his head and said, "Not in the least." She stroked the hand that held hers and said, "Well, I think we better just keep it as a treat. Otherwise, it's not a treat any more, right?" He smiled back at her and said, "Right."

Sara started to stand, lifting her empty plate. "You did dinner. I'll do clean up," she said. "No, you won't," he replied. "Ian…," she started, before he interrupted her, saying, "Sit, Sara. It's covered." She shook her head and thought, "Of course it is. This is Ian. What was I thinking?" He must have hit something because soft music started playing but she didn't see how he did it. She turned her head to locate the source saying, "You really are a magician, aren't you." When she turned back, a small beautifully wrapped present rested beside her plate. "Ian," she said, "You already gave me a present – the earrings, not to mention the rest of my outfit. You can't keep doing this." "Don't deny me the pleasure of giving you things, Sara," he said, "You do so little for yourself. Let me spoil you." Now, she smiled like a child. "What is it?" she asked. He grinned back at her, loving her excitement. "It's wrapped so that you can open it to find out," he said.

She tore through the wrappings to uncover a small, brown box. She carefully removed the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper inside. Sara's shocked gasp made him smile. She carefully removed the little statue of the goddess Sehren from the box; it was the one that she had desperately wanted so long ago when she first saw it at Talismaniac. "How did you know?" she whispered. "Being a 'stalker' does have some advantages, Sara," he replied. Sara cradled the tiny goddess in her hands as she got up and walked around the table to sit on Ian's lap.

She curled against him, nuzzling her head between his neck and shoulder, her lips against his soft beard. He slid his arms around her to pull her tight against his body. "Thank you," she whispered, putting one arm around his neck and kissing the place under his chin that drove him crazy. She heard his sharply inhaled breath and felt him shiver. "You're welcome, my darling," she heard him whisper back in a shaky voice, "I love you." "I love you too," she whispered, now licking him in the same spot. He shivered again. "Sara, stop," he said, "I can't concentrate at all when you do that." "So don't concentrate," she replied, "Dance with me, Ian." She kept it up and he was really struggling now. "Do you mean that literally?" he asked, his breath coming in hot, little pants against her shoulder, "Or, is that a metaphor?" Sara had to smile. "Only you would ask me something like that," she said, "You know me, baby, I'm a literal kind of woman." He shifted her a little on his lap and the effect that she was having on him became clear.

When she raised her head, she stared into hot, glazed golden eyes that took her breath away. "Oh, dear," she thought. She stood rather awkwardly, shaken by the look that he was giving her, and held out her arms, still holding the little goddess in her hand. "C'mon, hot stuff. Dance with me," she said. His lips quirked, "Hot stuff? Is that a term of endearment?" Now she smiled at him slowly with equal heat. "Just an observation," she said. He stood up, tall and elegant in the tuxedo. A perfect slow dance had just started from wherever the music was coming from. Sara stepped in close to him, slipping her arms around his neck. She felt one of his warm hands rest on her bare back and the other slide down to rest on her bottom. That hand pulled her tight against him so that they were intimately connected in a very intimate place.

She blew a hot breath into his ear and said, "You're becoming rather bold, Mr. Nottingham." "Stop me anytime you want," he offered. Sara laughed softly and nipped his ear lobe. She pushed her pelvis forward to press herself against the hard length of him and she was rewarded with his soft, explosive gasp. "Are we just going to stand here teasing each other?" she asked, "Or are we going to dance?" They danced with the music, bodies pressed close together. Sara kept rubbing against him and finally Ian pulled back a little and said softly, "I'm right on the edge of losing control here, Sara." She smiled at his discomfort. "And that would be bad because…?" she asked. "Well, for one thing, it would ruin my only tuxedo," he replied. "Then, I think maybe I should just take it off of you," she whispered, seductively, "That way you won't have to worry about it." She reached up and pulled loose his tie just to start.

Next, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt and zeroed in on that spot under his chin again. Ian hissed and pulled back, "God, Sara, take it easy." She decided to give him a break. "Okay, ace," she said, "You get a little breather but use it well cause it ain't gonna last." She went across the room to very carefully put Sehren on a shelf with her other prizes, out of harm's way, then came back to Ian to resume where she had left off. She slid his jacket off his shoulders and draped it over the back of the chair. She pulled his tie all the way off and laid it across his jacket. She unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it out of his pants. Finally, she said, "This is kind of like unwrapping another present – a really big one."

And, then, she remembered. She had a present for him too. She left him there with his shirt hanging open, wondering what had happened, while she went to get his new key from her jacket pocket. She came back and looked into his golden eyes. "This isn't anywhere near as fantastic as what you've given me," she said, handing him the key with its little red ribbon, "But it does come from the heart and you're the first man that I've ever given it to – your own key to the loft." "Wow," he said, momentarily overcome and at a loss for words, "Thank you, Sara. I'm honored." She looked at him quickly to see whether he was joking. He wasn't. Sara ran her hands straight up his bare stomach and chest to link behind his neck, and pulled down his head to kiss him thoroughly. His arms closed around her.

When she finally moved back, he whispered, "What was that for?" "For being the most wonderful man in the world," she whispered back. He smiled. "That takes in quite a lot of territory," he said. "Don't worry," she replied, "You're up to it." He dropped his head to her shoulder, blushing, "What are you trying to do to me?" "Make you realize how special you are," she ied.ied. "Stop," he whispered, not raising his head. She smiled. "Okay," she said, dropping her arms and turning away. "Wait," he said, pulling her close again, "Not the touching. Just the flattery." "Ahh," she responded, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, "You need to be more specific." "I'll try to remember that," he said, sliding his hand up under her dress. In another moment, his fingers had pushed aside the flimsy panties to begin caressing her. She leaned into his wonderful hand, his fingers sliding inside her easily she was so wet. "God, you're good at that," she gasped, "Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to flatter." He laughed softly, "No. That kind's okay." "Picky, picky," she sighed, her voice rising as an orgasm swept through her.

She slumped against him, her heart still hammering, and he lifted her into his arms. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down and Sara got another shock. "Are these satin sheets?" she asked, awed, "Where did these come from?" "Here and there," he said vaguely, running his hand up her leg. "Hold on, ace," she said, "I really like this dress. I want to get it out of the way before thing's get out of control here." He swung gracefully off the bed and pulled her to her feet again. She slipped the dress over her head and walked to the closet to hang it up. She came back to the bed wearing just the two filmy strips of underwear and the high heels. She stopped just shy of the bed when she saw the way that he was looking at her and she blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Now, you're embarrassing me," she mumbled, "Stop looking at me like that." He blinked and dropped his eyes. "Sorry," he said, "You're just so beautiful – like something out of the erotic fantasies I used to have. Sometimes none of this seems real. I get this sudden awful jolt that I'm going to wake up to find it was all a dream." She moved close to him and rubbed his groin, enjoying the immediate response. "So you had erotic fantasies, huh," she whispered, "I thought you were a virgin." He cupped her breast in his hand, teasing the nipple through the thin fabric. "I was celibate, Sara, not dead," he replied. She laughed. "I'd like to hear them sometime," she said. He unhooked the bra and it dropped to the floor. Then, he leaned down to kiss and lick her other breast. "Why not," he whispered, "You starred in most of them." "What?" she asked, "Not all?"

She ran her nails through the hair on his chest and followed the l dol down to his waist, where she undid his tuxedo pants. She pushed them and his briefs over his hips and down to the floor. He stepped out of them. She glanced down at her filmy, soaked panties and then up to his smoky eyes. "These are shot," she said, "Want to rip them off me?" He grinned and reached down to tear them off her in one quick swipe. He left his hand where it was, rubbing her slow and hard, the way she liked it. She moved her hands over the front of him; hips, stomach, chest, shoulders – loving the feel of him, all warm hard muscle. She stopped, gripping his shoulders and digging in her nails, because he had her on the edge of another orgasm. Then he pushed her over the edge and she cried out, grinding herself into his hand.

Sara fell back onto the cool satin sheets, pulling him with her. "You should patent those hands of yours as sex toys," she said breathlessly. He laughed. She rolled up on her side to look at him, lying on his back next to her. She reached over to pull out the band that was holding back his hair. She pushed her fingers through the soft waves so that they fanned out to frame his face. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen," she said softly. He blushed and dropped his eyes. "Why does that embarrass you, Ian?" she asked. He shrugged and said, "I don't know. I'm glad if it makes you want me more." "It sure doesn't hurt," she replied. She ran her hand down the front of his body lazily, stroking and rubbing, until she settled it between his legs. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the sensations created by her touch.

When he'd reached the limits of his endurance, he touched her stroking hand to stop her and said, "Are you willing to try something a little risky?" Now, she was, of course, intrigued, "What?" "Let's try making love with the Witchblade and Excalibur connecting us," he said. "I don't want to make love as Cleopatra again. I want you inside me, not Marc Antony," she said. "Thanks," he replied, "But I don't think that would happen again. I think that was a one-time ritual occurring when the Wielder and Protector first join." "That didn't happen the first time we made love," she said. "No, it didn't," he answered, "It happened when you were willing to accept me as your mate." Sara shrugged. "Kind of a fine distinction," she said. Ian smiled a little sadly, "Apparently, not to the Witchblade. Or to me either, for that matter." Sara colored slightly. "Oh," she said, "Sorry, baby. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"So, ready to try our first experiment in preparing for the orb?" he asked. "What will happen?" she asked. "That's where the risk comes in," he said, "I have no idea." "How do we do it?" she wanted to know. "The same way that we always do," he replied, "Except we hold hands, bring my ring and your bracelet into direct contact. And, we open ourselves to the power." She dropped her eyes and said, "I don't know, Ian. Tonight has just been so perfect. I don't want to spoil it." He stroked her cheek and she raised her eyes to his. "What makes you think it will spoil the evening?" he asked. "What makes you think it won't?" she countered. He could see that she was really reluctant so he gave in. "Okay," he said, Another time." She could tell that he was disappointed. "Shit," she thought. Aloud, she said, "What the hell. I guess we have to start sometime, don’t we? Might as well be tonight."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. He was obviously still aroused and she thought, "The idea of doing this is really turning him on." When their lips parted, he whispered, "And, there's a bonus. Because our right hands have to be in constant contact, we get to use your favorite position." Sara laughed as he rolled her over on her stomach. She shivered as he entered her and started to slowly move inside her. She felt his left arm slide around her to hold her against him, his fingers moving low to stroke her. She put her right hand out beside her on the bed. He moved his right hand to wrap his fingers around her wrist, touching Excalibur to the Witchblade.

At first, nothing happened. They were just making love as usual and it was wonderful but nothing supernatural. Then suddenly, Sara wasn't just feeling her side of the experience, she was feeling his side of it too. She heard Ian gasp and knew that the same weird transference must also be going on inside him. There was no way to describe what was happening between them except to say that it was intoxicating, unbelievably erotic, and the most intimate experience that she'd ever shared with another human being. She wam. Sm. She could feel what he felt; not just physically – although that was unbelievable – for the first time, she became aware of just how completely he loved her. When they couldn't hold off the spiraling orgasm any longer, it crashed over them and Sara thought that she might pass out from the intensity of it. She felt Ian collapse on her back and she wondered whether he had lost consciousness.

After a few moments, Sara pushed against the bed to get some leverage and she felt Ian slide off of her back and tumble to the bed beside her. She rested again before she managed to lift herself to look at him. He was on his back, eyes shut. She suddenly panicked and touched his chest. Under her hand, she felt his heart thumping madly. She gently pushed damp hair back from his forehead, feeling such love for him that it scared her. Golden eyes opened and gazed into hers, filled with awe. "You really do love me," he whispered. She smiled gently. "Told ya," she whispered back.

"We have to be careful with that," Sara said, "It could become addictive." Ian chuckled weakly and said, "You think? Want to do it again?" Sara barely had enough energy to turn her head to look at him, "You're kidding, right?" "I'm kidding," he assured her, "I couldn't make love to you again right now if someone held a gun to my head and threatened to pull the trigger." "Yeah," she replied, "Sort of takes something out of you doing it that way." She slowly raised up on her elbow to study his face and said softly, "I was you, Ian. I felt what it was like to be inside me." And, then, she shook her head, confused. "But the whole time, I was still me," she added.

She watched his beautiful eyes glow with love. "I know," he whispered, "It was the same for me. I didn't know it was possible to love someone this much. It's terrifying." She cocked her head to one side. "Why terrifying?" she asked. "Because losing you would kill me," he replied, "I wouldn't last a day without you now." She cuddled up next to him, draping her arm across his waist and her leg over his. "I'd never let that happen," she murmured, already half asleep. Slipping his arms around her, he whispered, "Good." When she was asleep, he carefully eased himself out of her arms to go clean up the remains of their celebration. But as he stood beside the bed, his knees gave out from under him and he slid to the floor, a look of utter shock on his face. Then, he shook his head and had to laugh at himself. "I guess it took more out of me than I realized," he thought, "Clean up will just have to wait until the morning." He managed to drag himself back into the bed next to Sara. She cuddled up against him again. He was asleep in minutes.

Sara slept late the next morning. Before she opened her eyes, she stretched her whole body, feeling utterly relaxed and unbelievably decadent sliding around on the smooth satin sheets. The next thing she did was reach for Ian. He wasn't there. She opened one eye cautiously. Sunlight was streaming into the loft. She focused a little and both eyes opened wide. The only evidence of their celebration the night before were the sheets beneath her, a few additional candles scattered about the loft, and a couple of containers of white roses. She sat up quickly to look at the shelves across the room. Sehren still stood proudly where Sara had put her the night before. She smiled contentedly and turned to see Ian come out of the kitchen carrying a steaming mug of coffee for her. She shook her head and said, "How do you always time this so perfectly?" He grinned at her. "Killer instincts," he said.

He sat next to her on the bed and handed her the mug. She sipped it and then reached over to put it on the table. She held out her arms to him and he pulled her close. She hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him trail one finger slowly down the middle of her bare back. She kissed his neck, his beard soft against her lips, and said, "You must have been up since dawn cleaning everything up. How do you feel?" She moved back a little and touched his forehead. It was cool. He brought her hand to his lips and said, "I feel fine. I haven't sneezed since yesterday afternoon." She sat back, holding the sheet up with one hand and reaching for her coffee with the other. "Well, you certainly look good," she said appreciatively. He had on tight black jeans and a bright red cashmere sweater. His hair hung in loose, shiny waves around his face.

"I continue to be amazed at how quickly you heal," she said, sipping her coffee, "You were still so sick yesterday morning." He shrugged and said, "One of the few advantages of all the tampering with my physiology. You ready to try some more exercises today?" When her eyebrow rose, he smiled. "No," he said, "I'm not suggesting that we do what we did last night again so soon." "Oh," she said, both disappointed and relieved. "I thought that we might try some meditation this morning. What do you think?" he asked. Sara lifted one shoulder. It didn't sound very exciting to her. Now, he laughed. "Try to curb your enthusiasm, Sara," he said. "I'm sorry," she replied, "I know that you're really into all this meditation stuff. I'm just more the punching bag type, you know?" "I know," he replied, "Just give it a chance. Do it this once for me." "Okay," she sighed, "But let me have a shower and breakfast first. Could you please get me my robe? I think I left it in the bathroom."

While Sara took her shower, Ian made breakfast. As Sara had more coffee and ate the excellent French toast that he'd fixed, she asked, "So, what? We're going to sit cross-legged on the floor and be quiet for half an hour?" The corner of his mouth turned up. "There's a bit more to it than that. We're going to do some relaxation exercises and some exercises to try to empty the mind." Sara gave a derisive snort. "Some might say that's not a long journey for me," she teased. "You're going to be surprised how difficult it is to do," he replied. "I'm sure," she said, waving a forkful of toast dismissively, "That's it?" "No," he said, "Then we're going to try to communicate." She leered at him and said, "I thought we were doing that already, ace. We were 'communicating' like mad last night."

He actually blushed. Sara laughed and said, "I don't know how you survived all those years doing what you did when you're this easy to fluster." He shook his head, starting to get frustrated, "Because you're the only one who can do this to me, Sara. I meant communicate telepathically." That stopped her cold. She put down hork.ork. "You're telling me that we're going to try to talk with our minds?" she asked. "Exactly," he said. "I hate to break it to you, Ian," she said, "But you're not Mr. Spock." "This could work, Sara. It should work. We've already shared dreams and visions. That happened without our control. We should be able to use the link between us to communicate in other ways – consciously," he said. "Would we use Excalibur and the Witchblade again?" she asked. "At first," he replied, "But, I think we'll eventually be able to talk to each other without that connection."

She reached across the table and took his hand. He automatically twined his fingers with hers. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, baby," she said, "But I'm not really sure that I want you inside my head. I'm still trying to figure out what happened between us last night. Maybe we need to take this whole thing a little slower." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I don't think it would be like that, Sara," he replied, "We all have barriers that protect us. I wouldn't be free to probe around inside your mind. It would just be a private way for us to talk. And, unfortunately, I don't think we have the luxury of going more slowly. When Irons and his new protector come at us, we need to be ready."

Sara nodded. "I wondered when you were going to get around to La Femme Not…Irons' new pal," Sara said. "What did you start to say?" Ian asked, curious. Now, Sara's cheeks colored a bit. "Nothing," she said, "It's just a stupid name that Gabriel came up with for Irons' new bodyguard." "And, that name is…?" he pushed. There were a couple of moments of silence before Sara mumbled, "La Femme Nottingham," raising her eyes to his to gauge his reaction. His lips quirked and her lips followed. Then, they were both laughing together. "Oh god," Ian said, wiping his eyes, "Well, that certainly makes her a lot less intimidating."

Sara looked worried. "You think she's intimidating?" she asked. "I haven't gotten very far yet in my research," he said, waving a hand to indicate a laptop sitting on the coffee table, "Ask me again at the end of the day and I might have more to tell you." Sara's eyes widened, "Where did that come from?" "It was delivered with the rest of the things that I ordered last night," he said. "That was here last night?" she asked, "I didn't even notice it." He smiled and said, "You were a little preoccupied. We both were."

He watched her eyes get unfocused and knew that she was replaying portions of the previous evening in her head. After a moment, he took her hand again, stroking it with one finger and said, "Hey, detective. Where did you go?" Her eyes sharpened and then warmed as she focused on him. She got up and walked around the table to swing a leg across him, straddling his lap and putting her arms around his neck. He slipped his arms around her, one hand cupping her bottom to pull her more tightly against him. She leaned down to kiss him, sucking and nibbling on his bottom lip. "Thank you again for last night. It was wonderful. Especially thank you for Sehren," she whispered. "It was my pleasure," he replied and then, grinning, added, "Literally."

She leaned in for another kiss. This time it got a lot more intense and when it ended, Sara dropped her head to his shoulder, breathless. She was still wearing only her bathrobe and now she was responding to him big time. "I better move," she said, "Or I'll mess up your jeans." "That's what washing machines are for," he whispered, sliding his hand down between them to stroke her. "Ian, we can't keep doing this," she said, as she leaned in to his hand, "I'm starting to get this Pavlovian reaction to you where I get wet whenever we're close." He kept stroking her and leaned in to lick her lower lip. "Really?" he said softly, "That's good to know."

She was now squirming on his lap and wanting more. "At least let's get this beautiful sweater out of the way," she said. Startling him, she grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head. Then, she reached betwthemthem to unsnap his jeans and pull down the zipper. "This is a little awkward. Just let me…" and that was as far as he got before Sara barked, "Just stay still." She pushed her hand past his jeans and into his briefs to free him. Then, she arched forward onto his lap to push him inside her. Ian gasped when he suddenly found himself engulfed in her heat.

A little stunned and trying to catch up, he moved his hands under her bottom to support her, and to help rock her back and forth on his lap. Sara hooked her heels around the bottom slat of the chair and used her leg muscles to push him deeper inside her each time she rocked forward against him. Sensations coming at him fast and furious, Ian shut his eyes and let his head fall back to rest against the high back of the chair. Sara gripped his shoulders and dropped her head to lick that sensitive spot under his chin, which was now exposed to her lips. Ian groaned deep in the back of his throat and arched his hips up off the chair. Sara locked her legs around the back of the chair to keep them from falling off. He could only hold back for another few minutes before he lost the battle, coming with a hoarse cry. Sara followed him a moment later and then lay draped over him, panting.

When he once again had enough breath to form words, Ian rubbed her back and said, "Well, you surprised me that time." Where her lips still rested against his neck, Sara mumbled, "I surprised myself. I had no intention of doing that when I came over here to thank you." He laughed, soft and sexy. "That was a hell of a thank you," he said. She laughed then too. "I think I pulled every muscle in my thighs when I wrapped them around the chair to keep us from falling off," she said ruefully. He gently kissed the top of her head, "I can always give you another massage." She snorted against his shoulder and said, "I'll pass on that one, pal. I remember the last massage that you gave me. Pretty soon I'll be too sore to walk."

She felt his body stiffen. "Did I hurt you?" he asked. She could tell by his voice that she'd upset him. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes, "No, baby, no. I was just kidding. Of course you didn't hurt me." She felt him relax again. "You'd have to tell me, Sara, if that ever happens. Half the time, I don't know what I'm doing," he said. She put her forehead against his. "You could certainly fool me. It must be those killer instincts kicking in again," she teased. "More like a combination of love, lust, and good muscle control," he responded, "As well as a spectacular partner." "Well," she said, "Your spectacular partner now needs another shower. Then, I'll put on some sweats and we can give your meditation thingy a try." "I'll join you," he said, holding up a hand when she raised an eyebrow, "Just a shower, I promise. To be honest, I'm a little sore myself." Sara laughed and eased herself very gently off his lap to head to the bathroom. Ian put away his sweater and dumped his soiled pants in the washer before he joined Sara in the bathroom.

An hour later, they were sitting across from each other on the floor of the loft, freshly scrubbed and dressed in sweats. First, Ian took Sara through a simple relaxation exercise using a count of ten. He told her to start by relaxing her toes and worked his way up to her neck. Then, he went through a mantra with her. Soon, Sara found her mind wandering to laundry that needed to be done, groceries that had to be restocked, and the details of a case that was troubling her. She saw what she was doing and pulled herself back to start the mantra again. Only to once again find her mind wandering. She cracked one eye. Ian was sitting perfectly still, his face perfectly blank. "I bet he's not doing grocery lists," she thought. "Okay, Pezzini, concentrate," she admonished herself.

Her second attempt was more successful. She was lost in it when she heard Ian say, **"Sara."** She pulled herself back, opened her eyes, and said, "What?" He hadn't moved a muscle. She felt the hairs on her arms stand up. "That was in my head," she thought, "He really did it." She was now determined to answer him because if he could do it, she could do it too. She settled herself back down, focused her mind, and zoned out on her mantra again. When she was deep into it, she "saw" him in the Witchblade's stone, and said, **"Hey, ace."** She felt first his shock, followed by his pleasure. **"Well done,"** he responded **"Thanks,"** she said.

Neither of them was prepared for the strange new voice that suddenly said in both their minds, **"Tomorrow at 10:00 A.M. Be ready."**

Sara's eyes flew open and she angrily said, "Ha ha, I really don't appreciate the weird voice and ominous warnings, pal. It's not funny so just cut the crap and…" Then, she saw his face. "It wasn't you?" she asked, in a very small voice. Ian shook his head, frowning. "Shit," she said. The corner of Ian's mouth turned up. "That's my Sara," he said, "Always understating the situation." "Why aren't you freaking out like I am?" she asked. He shrugged, "What purpose would it serve?\Of cOf course, pardon me. I forgot for a moment that I was talking to stoicism incarnate. So, who the hell was it?" she wanted to know. "There are actually a number of possibilities," he replied. Sara sighed. "And they are?" she asked.

"If we're lucky, it was Lazar," he said, "If we're not, the most likely candidate is Xenobia Blaque." "Whoa," Sara said, "Who?" "La Femme Nottingham," Ian replied, "In the circles that I used to travel, she's more commonly known as 'X'." "That doesn't sound good. If it's her, how could she get into both of our minds at once like that?" Sara asked. "Among other things, she has considerable natural psi abilities. Still, it seems soon for Irons to be making a direct move on the Witchblade again," Ian said. "You said a number of possibilities. What are the others?" Sara asked. He shrugged again and said, "The Witchblade is an object of tremendous power, Sara, and as such it draws all manner ofllenllengers from our world and elsewhere." "Elsewhere?" Sara asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Lucretzia, Germaine, Lupo, the entity within Dr. Granger," he responded. "Shit," she said again.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. "Be ready," he replied, "As we were told." "But we just started to work together," she said, "We're not ready to use the orb." "I agree. Trying to use the orb now would be too dangerous," he said, "We'll just have to fight together using what we've got – you with the Witchblade and me with my own skills and weapons." Sara just shook her head looking worried. "C'mon, Sara. We haven't done too badly separately until now. Together, we'll be devastating," he grinned. That grin of his was infectious. She almost smiled. "Devastating, huh," she said. "Absolutely," he said. "I need a hug," she said. He immediately opened his arms and she scooted across the floor and snuggled into them. He held her close gentgently kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry, my love," he said, "We'll be fine."

"So, how do we get ready for this unknown visitor?" she asked. "You relax and trust me to take care of it," he replied. "Ian…," she started. He interrupted her, saying, "Sara, this is what I've been trained my whole life to do and I do it very, very well." She frowned and started to worry a nail. He tightened his arms around her and soothingly rubbed her shoulder. "What would you be doing today if this hadn't happened?" he asked. She dropped her head to his shoulder and said, "Laundry, food shopping, the Buell needs an oil change, other little errands." He lifted her chin with his hand and gave her a quick kiss. "Then, go and do exactly that," he said, "Leave the rest of it to me. Okay?" She looked into his calm golden eyes for a moment and came to her decision. "Okay," she replied.

Sara took him at his word. She left the loft soon after to do some of the many errands that she'd set aside since Ian had moved in with her. She'd become so absorbed in him and the relationship, she thought, that the rest of her life had gone to hell. She really enjoyed fussing over her beloved Buell and she was even enjoying shopping in the supermarket, a chore that she usually hated. It was good to get out of the loft and she realized that she'd needed some time alone. Still, she also had to acknowledge that her life was irrevocably changed by Ian's pree – e – she found herself picking up food that she thought he might like and getting other things she knew would be needed now that she was living with someone who actually enjoyed cooking.

Ian had also gone out to do some shopping. The stores that he patronized were much more exotic than those where Sara found herself. He was determined to make the loft as secure as was humanly possible before their visitor arrived the following day. He stocked up and headed back, hoping to finish the job while Sara was still occupied with her errands. He was just installing the last motion sensor when she tried to get in the front door. As he intended, it was a good test of his new security system – all hell broke loose. Ian quickly turned off the alarms that she'd activated. He opened the front door to find Sara crouched there with her key in one hand and her drawn gun in the other.

When she realized what had happened, Sara glared at him and then stalked past him into the loft. He carefully shut the door behind her and turned toward her, thinking that he knew what was coming. "Thanks sch fch for the warning, pal," she said, "What have you done to my home?" Ian felt a little jolt of pain hit him. When had it become her home again, rather than theirs, he wondered. He blinked, trying to focus his mind. "I'm sorry that I didn't warn you, Sara. I wanted to test the system. It was stupid of me. I should have warned you," he said softly, still trying to push his mind beyond what she'd just said. She threw her key and gun on the coffee table; then, took off her jacket, tossing it on the sofa. She was still very obviously annoyed. "So, is the whole place booby trapped now?" she asked, "Am I going to be tripping little alarms wherever I turn?"

He shook his head. "No. I only set alarms at the perimet…" he stopped and rephrased, realizing that military terminology would probably only make her madder. "I put alarms at every point where someone could get in," he finished. He dropped his head and said, "Do you want me to remove them?" Soticoticed that she'd pushed him into subservient mode and she felt a touch of guilt, which perversely triggered more annoyance with him. She sighed and said, "No. I guess not. As long as it's not going to be like living in an armed camp. You may be used to that military shit, but I'm not and I don't want to be." He couldn't think of any response that might be safe so he just kept quiet, his head still lowered. "The grocery store's going to deliver food in a little while," she added, "When they ring the bell, is another four-alarm fire going to go off"I"I'll keep the alarm on the front door off until they leave," he said softly, raising hiss tos to hers briefly before dropping them again. "Okay," she replied, stomping off into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Ian sat on the sofa, trying to understand what had just happened between them. He'd thought that she'd be pleased with what he'd done. Instead, she'd acted like he was conspiring with their mysterious enemy to wrest her control over her life away from her. He ran a hand nervously through his hair. Suddenly it seemed as if all that had been gained from their celebration the night before was lost once again. And, he didn't even understand what he'd done wrong. More than anything in the world right now, he wanted to feel her arms around him. He wanted to know that she still felt the love for him that he'd touched inside her last night. But, of course, he couldn't go to her because she didn't seem to want any part of him. He shut his eyes and thought, "Shit," feeling a little closer to Sara when he used her favorite release.

In the kitchen, Saangeanged around making coffee and feeling guilty. She knew that Ian had just been trying to protect her as best he could. Now, she felt rotten for jumping all over him. And, worse, he was so sensitive to how she felt about him that he was probably sitting in there thinking that she didn't love him any more. She ran a hand roughly through her hair. It was hard enough having Ian in her head, let alone some stranger. First, they invade her mind and now they were forcing her to turn her home into a fortress. She hated the sense that she was being controlled. But it hadn't been Ian that had pushed her into that corner. It had been wrong to dump those feelings onto him. She knew that she should go to him and apologize. "Shit," she thought, taking a big sip of hot coffee, "I hate apologizing."

Sara finished her coffee to settle her nerves. Then, she walked into the other room to eat crow. Ian was still sitting on the sofa but he was now focused on the laptop in front of him. When she stood next to him, he didn't look up from the computer screen. She said, "Ian." His hands stopped working the keys and mouse but he didn't raise his head to look at her. "Look at me," she said. Now, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. And, all the things that she had expected to see in them were there – confusion, hurt, fear, and, surprisingly, just a touch of resentment. She found that it wasn't so hard to tell him after all. "I'm sorry," she said, "I dumped on you what our mystery asshole made me feel. I let them make me feel powerless. It makes me nuts when I feel like someone else is pulling the strings. It's not your fault – you were just trying to help. Forgive me?"

In answer, he pulled her on to his lap and kissed her passionately. When their lips finally parted, he whispered, "You scared me." She tucked a stray curl behind his ear. "I know," she replied, "I'm an evil, bad woman. It's a good thing that you love me so much." He rubbed noses with her and said, "That's true. You're certainly not easy to live with." She punched his shoulder. "Don't push your luck, ace," she said. He grinned and leaned in for another kiss. At which point, the buzzer sounded and Sara got up off of his lap to get their groceries.

As they worked together in the kitchen putting the groceries away, Sara asked, "Did you reset the front door alarm?" Ian nodded. "Sometime today," she added, "you better show me how all this stuff works." "Sure," he responded, flashing her a quick smile. He wedged three more jars of seasonings into a cupboard and said, "You got a lot of stuff." Sara shrugged and replied, "That's why I had to have it delivered. You cook. I didn't know what you'd need. I wanted you to have whatever you might…" She trailed off seeing the look on his face. "What?" she asked.

He leaned across to pull her into his arms for another long, searing kiss. When they had to separate to breathe, she rested a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. She felt a little dizzy. "What prompted that?" she asked. "Nothing. I just adore you. You've got enough here to feed an army through a long campaign. You're wonderful," he said. She studied his face, bemused. "Did you just insult me or compliment me?" she asked. He brought her closer, running his warm hands down her back to settle on her bottom and pull her tight against him. He dropped his face to nuzzle her neck with soft lips. "I just told you that I love you so much that I can't think clearly," he whispered. She smiled and locked her arms around his neck, her fingers full of his silky hair. "That explains a lot," she said.

She sighed, surrendering herself to the sensations that both his lips and hips were causing for a moment. Then, she whispered, "Back off, big boy. I have three loads of laundry to do – mostly sheets. I'm not looking to add yet another set of sheets to the pile." "I'll be happy to do the laundry – all of it," he responded, still kissing and licking her neck. "I don't think so," she said, "I think you need to start thinking about how to use all these "provisions" to come up with dinner and, if that's not enough to occupy that fertile…" and she hesitated just long enough for him to fill in the blank, "mind of yours, you can go back to your research on the laptop. I'll do the laundry."

Ian lifted his head to study her face. She meant it. He sighed and released her. Then, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word, Sara spoke. "Don't you dare ask me what I have a taste for," she said. He laughed. She turned toward the closet that held the washer and dryer, throwing over her shoulder, "Why don't you just surprise me." He walked over to check his watch on the bedside table, where Sara always laid it when she wasn't wearing it. He decided it was time to start making their dinner and he went back into the kitchen to check the refrigerator for ingredients. "I sure wish there were leftovers from that French food we had last night," he heard Sara mumble wistfully as she sorted laundry. "That's one of its drawbacks," he called to her, "the portions are much smaller." "Crème Brule," she rolled over her tongue like a prayer. Ian smiled as he pulled out chicken breasts to defrost and gathered vegetables for a salad.

They managed to synch up pretty well. Ian was putting Chicken Tetrazzini with noodles, asparagus, and salad on the table with a nice white wine just as Sara put the last load of laundry in the dryer. When she sat down at the table, her eyes went wide. "Hey, this looks pretty good," she said. He grinned at her as he poured her a glass of wine. "Alas, no Crème Brule," he replied. "Yeah, well, I don't expect miracles from you, ace," she said magnanimously, patting his hand. "That's good of you," he said, squeezing the hand that patted his. While they ate, he told her how to arm and disarm the security devices that he'd installed. They'd do an actual run though after they cleaned up the dinner dishes.

As Sara pushed the last of her chicken around on her plate, she asked, "Do we have any kind of plan for tomorrow at 10:00?" "How can we plan when we don't know who and what we'll be facing?" he asked, "You follow your instincts and let the Witchblade lead you. I back you up. What else can we do?" Sara shook her head, frowning. "I don't know," she said, "Something." "Like?" he asked. "I don't know, damn it," she exploded, "I just feel like we're not ready." He got up and went around the table to kneel by her chair and hold her, stroking her back. "It will be okay, Sara," he whispered, "I promise you." She clung to him and whispered back, "How can you be so sure?" He pulled back and shrugged. "I just am," he said.

Then, he smiled and said, "Want a treat to take your mind off of this?" Sara pushed his hair back off his forehead and said, "C'mon, baby. I just got all those sheets clean again." He shook his head and said, "God, Sara. Don't you ever think of anything but sex?" Now, she blushed, embarassed as he had intended. "So, what were you talking about then?" she asked. He stood gracefully and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back holding a dish of Crème Brule. Sara's mouth dropped open. "How, how…," she babbled. "I knew you'd be a sucker for this," he replied, "I had them deliver an extra serving with the meal last night so I could surprise you today." Sara's eyes had gone wide and hungry. "Gimme," she said. He handed it to her saying wistfully, "Ah, detective. If you'd only look at me like that." Her mouth full, she managed, "I love you, baby. But even you don't taste this good."

They cleaned up the dinner dishes together and then Ian gave Sara a thorough review of all the security measures that he'd installed. She was impressed and did finally feel a bit less vulnerable when they were done. As she was getting up from where they were both kneeling by the window sill looking at one of the alarms, Sara let out a yelp. Ian immediately grabbed her elbow to help her up and asked, concerned, "What's wrong?" Sara winced, leaning against him. "Remember our little escapade on the chair this morning?" she asked. His eyes went dark with a hot, predatory gleam. Sara smiled in spite of the pain in her thighs. "Yes," she said, "I can see that it's quite fresh in your memory." He shrugged, "I made you an offer." "I'm not up for a massage tonight, thanks," she replied, "Though I'm sure that you'd manage."

"How about a hot bath?" he suggested, "I bet we'd both fit in that tub. It's pretty big." She looked at him, eyes wide. "You're kidding, right?" she asked. He shook his head, perplexed and asked, "Why would I be kidding?" "Because it's a recipe for disaster," she said, "Water all over the bathroom floor. My downstairs neighbor freaking out. Major repair bills for water damage." "I think we can be careful, Sara," he replied, "In fact, having to be careful might make it even more interesting." She shook her head and said, "I can't believe what I'm hearing." His mouth moved close to her ear. His voice soft and husky, he whispered, "Hot water, bubbles, soapy hands. You get to be on top. I could probably reach around you to massage your thighs right there." And, as he'd planned, her imagination had taken over halfway through his description. "I guess it might be okay if we're very, very careful," she murmured. He grinned, already headed toward the bathroom, and said, "I'll just go run your bath."

While he was filling the tub, Sara pulled a set of clean sheets out of the dryer and put them on the bed. By the time she got to the bathroom with an armful of clean towels, the tub was half full of steaming, fragrant water and lots and lots of bubbles. Sara laughed and asked, "Think you've got enough bubbles there, ace?" He looked a little sheepish. "I've never had a bubble bath," he said, "I guess I got kind of carried away." She had to smile. He really was just a kid sometimes. "Okay," she said, "You first." He stripped, dumping his sweats and briefs in the hamper. Sara sighed thinking, "I just emptied that." He gingerly put one foot into the tub, wincing at the heat. She watched appreciatively as he carefully eased the rest of his lean frame into the hot water. Reclining against the back, with his arms on the sides and his long legs stretched straight out, he just fit. He looked up at her, cheeks flushed from the heat, and said, "Your turn."

Sara got undressed and dumped her clothes in the hamper with his. She stopped at the edge of the tub and asked, "How do I get in without stepping on you?" He smiled, bending up his knees to create a space and holding out his arms. She smiled back at him and stepped into the hot water, making a sharp noise through her teethTurnTurn around and sit down with your back to me. I'll catch you," he said. "No splashing," she warned him. He laughed and replied, "No splashing. I promise." She eased backwards into his arms and sat in the tub, her back against his chest and her bottom tight against his groin. "Okay," he said, a little breathless, "Now lift up a little so that I can get my legs under you." "I'm going to sit on your lap with my legs stretched out on yours?" she asked. "That's the idea," he said softly in her ear.

"And what's that I'm sitting on again?" she asked, "I don't think that you'd really call it your lap any more, do you?" "Just ignore it," he said, breath warm on her ear. "Right," she said, lifting her arms as he slid his arms around her. "Can you pass me the soap?" he asked. She reached to the side of the tub and then put the soap in his hand. He rubbed the soap between his hands creating a lather and handed the bar back to her. "You can put it back in the dish now. Don't want to leave it in the water – it kills the bubbles." She smiled, "Really? Who are you – Dr. Bubb…?" Her words ended in a gasp as one of his soapy hands began to rub and tweak her nipple, while the other settled between her legs.

In a little while, she was straining back against him until she wayinaying almost flat on top of him, with her face turned in toward his neck and buried in his soft hair. "Oh, God," she whispered, "That feels so good. Don't stop." She started to squirm in the water and he teased, "Hey, quit splashing." She twined her feet with his and gripped his arms tightly, her body arching up out of the water. "Nobody likes a smart ass," she hissed. He shifted hands and she clutched his arms, frantic to have him keep going. She definitely splashed when an orgasm swept through her a few minutes later. Her drawn out cry of "Ian" echoed off the tiles.

She relaxed back against him, turning her head to kiss his neck. "Can you reach the hot water faucet?" he asked, "The water needs to be warmed up." "You want me to move?" she asked. He laughed softly and said, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble." He bent his knees again to allow her to edge forward to warm up the bath water. She added more bubble bath while she was at it because he really seemed to like the bubbles. When the water was steamy again, she slid back toward him.

He started to lower his knees but she said, "Wait. Leave them bent." She soaped up her hands and curled onto him sideways, resting her head on his shoulder. He turned his face to kiss her and while their tongues still played, she reached down a soapy hand to stroke him. She felt his soft moan vibrate through both of their bodies they were wrapped so tight together. Now it was his turn to squirm. As the water began to lap the sides of the tub, their lips pulled apart for a moment and he gasped, "I know. I'm splashing. I can't help it. You better stop." She said, "You know if you stretch out again and I lay back on top of you just right, we might be able to…" "Yes," he said, panting, "Please. Now." He stretched out his legs again and Sara lay back against him, shifting and moving until he was able to slip inside her.

Ian arched up his hips to thrust more deeply inside her. The combination of their position and the warm water made for a rather intense experience. He slid his arm around her and lowered his hand to carress her again. Water was going everywhere but they couldn't stop now. Sara could feel a wild cry tugging at the back of her throat while the rest of her body was on its own desperate plunge toward a killer climax. And, Ian was right there with her. All his muscles were standing out in sharp relief when he arched himself for one last deep thrust into Sara as he let go. The acoustics of the bathroom magnified her cry as it finally escaped. Spent and sated, Sara fell back against him weakly. Ian gripped the sides of the tub to keep them both from sliding under the water. "You were right," he whispered, breathing still ragged, "We made a mess. When I can move again, I'll clean it up." "Before it seeps through the tile to the ceiling downstairs?" she breathed. "Promise," he panted in reply.

Half an hour later, they'd dried themselves off in the fluffy clean towels. Ian had cleaned up the bathroom as promised while Sara changed into new flannel pajamas that she'd bought for herself as a treat. She couldn't wait to see his face. The pajamas were white and had little guns all over them. He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. He stopped a few feet from the bed where Sara stood with her back to him, fluffing up a pillow. Behind her, she heard his low, sexy laugh. "I love them, detective," he said. She turned to him and smiled, before she turned down the covers and crawled into bed. He shut off the lights, then dropped the towel and got into bed next to her. She cuddled up to him, feeling nothing but warm smooth muscle. "No pajamas tonight?" she asked. "Not in the mood," he answered, "Besides I don't want anything between me and this nice, soft flannel." She obliged by wrapping the nice, soft flannel around him. Neither one of them allowed themselves to think about what might happen the next morning as they drifted off to sleep curled tight together.

Sara awoke while it was still dark the next morning and immediately tensed as her mind started to fret. She felt a soothing hand stroke her shoulder and a soft voice say, "Go back to sleep if you can, love. It's very early." She snuggled closer, wrapping her arm more tightly around his slender waist and angling her face deeper into the space between his chin and shoulder. She inhaled him – a wonderful spicy, clean, and very male scent, now with just a hint of bubble bath. "Why are you awake?" she asked sleepily. "Too jumpy," he answered, "No point in both of us worrying though, is there?" She rubbed his bare stomach in slow circles, attempting to calm him a little. She'd learned him well enough to know that his concern would be over his ability to protect her – he wouldn't be worried about himself.

She stopped rubbing his tummy and gave him a little squeeze. "No good," she said, "I'm awake now and I can't turn off my head. I'm going to make some coffee. Do you want a cup of tea?" Ian turned his head to kiss her forehead. "Stay in bed," he said, "I'll do it." He slipped out of bed and started to walk to the kitchen. When she said, "Nice view, ace," he veered over to the wardrobe. He grabbed his black silk robe from where it was hanging inside the door and slipped it on. She thought to herself, "You should have kept your mouth shut, idiot." Surprising herself, she dozed again until she felt him sit back on the bed. She opened her eyes and slid her hand inside his robe. "I thought you wanted me to put this on," he said, catching her hand and putting the coffee mug in it. She sat up a little and sipped the steaming brew. "Man, he makes good coffee," she thought. Aloud, she said, "I misspoke," lifting an eye brow. He smiled back at her, drinking his tea.

"So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the corner?" she asked. He actually turned his head, startled. Sara laughed and said, "It's just a phrase, baby. I mean are we going to talk about the subject that we're carefully avoiding." "Oh," he replied, "What is there to talk about? At 10:00, we stand back to back in the middle of the loft, me with my sword and you with the Witchblade. Then, we wait to see what happens. If my security system works, we'll know when they arrive." "That's the plan?" she asked.

"Something else did occur to me. If they were just going to attack, they wouldn't have warned us," he said, "They probably want to talk – at least, at first." "At first?" she said. "Well, it seems likely that we won't be telling them what they want to hear, doesn't it?" he responded. "You think they want the orb?" she asked. He nodded. "Or an alliance," he added, "Or maybe just to grab one or both of us. I don't know. Once we know who it is, their motives will be clearer." She ran a hand through her hair and said, "I just hate the uncertainty. One way or another, I'll be glad to get it out in the open." He rubbed her shoulder soothingly again and said, "Are you hungry? We have all this food. I could make a big breakfast. How about it? You want to sleep a little longer while I cook?"

She smiled at him, looking deep into those honey-warm eyes, and said, "I love you, Ian." He blinked while his heart did a little flip. She so rarely said that to him when she wasn't joking or just carelessly responding to him saying it to her. He took a deep breath, overwhelmed. He put down his mug and took hers from her hand to put it on the bedwide table. Then, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him as her arms slid around him in return. She laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you too, my darling," he whispered, "More than my life. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you." She ran her hand over the hard muscles of his back. "Keep in mind that losing you would hurt me too, will you?" she said, "Too badly to recover from, maybe. So, take care of yourself for me as well."

He pulled back and raised her chin with his hand to search her eyes. He apparently found whatever he was seeking there because he gave her a beautiful smile before he bent down to touch his lips to hers. The kiss became intense as they clung to each other tightly. When they pulled apart, Ian rested his head against the top of hers, panting softly. "Maybe we should just go back to bed," he said breathlessly. Sara smiled and said, "Maybe you should start breakfast." "Spoil sport," he grumbled. She swatted him on the arm. He laughed, handing her her coffee mug again as he got up to go make breakfast, carrying his tea with him.

She tucked herself back up under the warm covers while Ian made breakfast. She must have drifted back to sleep because he woke her when he sat back down on the bed. There was a tray full of bacon, eggs, toast, and fresh coffee sitting on the bedside table. Sara opened one eye and focused on the food. Both eyes flew open. "Wow," she said, "You're bringing me breakfast in bed?" she asked, "I've never had breakfast in bed." His lips quirked, "It's not that big a deal, Sara. The table's only a few feet away. Still, this way you don't have to get up yet." "Fresh coffee?" she asked. He nodded and handed her the mug. She took a big gulp and said, "You really make good coffee." "Thanks. I'm never sure since I don't drink it," he replied. "You're missing out," she replied. He smiled and pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. "I know," he said, baiting her, "No caffeine, no jangled nerves, no short temper." She looked at him over the raised mug, catching the twinkle in his eyes. "You trying to pick a fight, buster, to take my mind off things?" she asked. "Me?" he replied, all innocence. Sara just snorted and grabbed for the bacon, crisp just the way that she liked it.

Between them, they cleaned the breakfast plates down to bare china. Then, Sara went to take a shower and dress while Ian cleaned up the breakfast dishes. When they met up again, it was 9:00 A.M. A thought suddenly occurred to Sara. "Where's your sword?" she asked, "I haven't seen it here." He squatted by the bed and slid a long leather scabberd from beneath it. She shook her head and asked, "When do you do these things that I never see you do?" He smiled and removed the long, gleaming sword, pushing the leather case back under the bed. It was obviously well cared for.

Laying it on the sofa, he went to the wardrobe and from somewhere pulled out a small, deadly looking automatic weapon. She could see the assassin taking shape in front of her. It both gave her a chill and was strangely comforting. He laid the gun next to the sword and went back to the wardrobe again. This time he removed a small suede pouch from which he extracted several deadly looking shuriken. She'd only seen these small metal throwing weapons used in ninja movies. She gawked and said, "Can you really kill someone with those?" He nodded. "So, you've got three deadly weapons there to my one, huh?" she said. "Four," he replied, holding up his hands. "And five," he added, slightly raising his foot. Then, he smiled at her and the assassin disappeared again. "But you've got the Witchblade," he said, "And that puts all my weapons to shame."

"Yeah," she replied, "Well, let's hope that it decides to help me today and doesn't just play voyeur on my wrist as a pretty bracelet." Ian frowned. "You've got to surrender to it, while keeping the bloodlust in check, Sara," he said, "I know how you hate to relinquish control but you need to let the Witchblade lead. Can you do that?" She pushed a hand through her hair and said, "I'll try, Ian. I'll try. Okay?" She saw his eyes soften and he went to her, pulling her into his arms. "You'll do fine, darling," he whispered, his lips in her hair. She put her arms around him and hugged him back. "I hope so, baby," she replied, "You better get your shower and get dressed. It's getting late." He nodded, looking at her worriedly. She smiled at him and said, "Go. I'll be fine."

He pressed a light kiss to her lips and then disappeared into the bathroom. When Ian came back, he was dressed in black sweats and boots. Absurdly, the phrase, "The better to kick you with, my dear," ran through her head. He took her hand and kisssed it. "How are you doing?" he asked. "You smell wonderful," she said, inhaling deeply. He grinned, "As good an answer as any, I guess." "It's almost time," she said. "We'll be alright, Sara. I've just won your love," he said, "I'm not going to let anyone – anyone - take it away from me. I'll put up a hell of a fight." She grinned at him. "You tell 'em, baby," she said. Ian sheathed his sword in the back harness he now adjusted. He had a special pocket at his hip for the shuriken. He slid the gun into a shoulder holster. He was ready. It was 10:00. He faced the row of windows to the fire escape and she faced the front door. They waited. Nothing happened. She glanced down. The Witchblade was quiet on her wrist. "What the hell?" she thought.

At 10:15, she started to get really antsy. "What's going on?" she asked. "I have no idea," he replied, "Maybe someone was just playing with us – trying to psych us out. If that was their plan, it worked." "If that was their plan, I'm really pissed," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Better to be annoyed than fighting for our lives," he reasoned. "Okay," she said, "I feel like an ass standing here in the middle of the room all kung fuey when nothing's going on. Can I stand down, sir?" He was still tense, his eyes moving from one place to another continuously. "Sure. As you were, soldier," he responded, distracted. "Hey, ace," she said, touching his arm. She watched the muscle jump at her touch. "Whoa. Easy there," she said, stroking his arm. He took a deep breath and said, "This doesn't make any sense."

She went to sit on the sofa, playing Solitaire on the laptop while he stayed on tense sentry duty. Finally, he said, "I, uh, have to use the bathroom. Will you be okay on your own for a couple of minutes?" She smiled up at him and said, "Nerves, huh?" He headed for the bathroom, mumbling, "Nerves, my ass. Too much tea." Sara went to the kitchen to pour herself another mug of coffee. She glanced at the clock on the coffeemaker. "One minute shy of 11:00," she thought, "Too much time. Nothing's going to happen now." She carried the coffee back into the other room.

Just finishing in the bathroom, Ian heard Sara let out a yelp; then, he heard a crash. He tore out of the bathroom and skidded across the kitchen floor in a crouch, gun in hand. Sara was standing by the sofa looking at the man who sat there. Her mug had shattered on the floor and coffee was forming a dark pool. Ian holstered his gun and pulled up his pants, which were riding low on his hips. Not one of the alarms had gone off. "Do you have any idea what you put us through with that cryptic ass message of yours? And, you said 10:00." she accused. Ian moved to her side and squeezed her arm. "Sara. No," he said softly. Lazar raised his eyebrow and said, "Did I? I was in Chicago. It must have slipped my mind that you are in a different time zone." He had a slight unidentifiable accent.

He turned his head slightly to focus on Ian. "Is there a problem?" he asked. Ian inclined his head respectfully and said, "No, sir. No problem." "Then why does it appear that a war is about to be declared?" he asked. Ian again responded in a respectful tone. "We didn't know that it was you who contacted us, sir," he said, "The Witchblade has many enemies." "I see. Is someone going to clean up this mess?" Lazar asked, indicating the spilled coffee and broken mug with one hand. Sara set her mouth stubbornly and crossed her arms. Ian went to the kitchen to get some paper towels. Stooping down, he quickly cleaned up the spilled coffee and ceramic shards of the mug.

"Good," Lazar said, "We have much to do and little time. You are the first Wielder and Protector in history to actually make a Triumverate possible. This is good because a great evil is on the rise." "What's a Triumverate?" Sara asked. Ian leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, "Witchblade, Excalibur, orb." "Okay, so what's this great evil thingy?" she asked. Ian caught her hand in his and squeezed it. "Sara, let the man tell the story his own way," he whispered. She sighed and shut up, and Ian passed a silent thank you to the gods. Watching the exchange between them, Lazar's thin lips curved in a tiny smile.

"I am willing to teach you how to use the orb safely. But it will require great commitment and courage from you both. It will also require obedience and patience," he said, fixing his protuberant blue eyes on Sara. She looked from Lazar to Ian, who was also staring at her, and said, "What?" The silence lengthened until Sara said, "Okay, okay. I can listen when I need to. I may have to work a bit on the patience but I'll try. Is that good enough?" Lazar smiled fully for the first time, looking like a large, middle European elf. "Yes, Wielder, that is good enough. For now," he replied. "Please, call me Sara," she said, returning his smile. Lazar inclined his head and Ian thought, "Well done, my love."

"There is something else that you must consider carefully," he said, "A most difficult time is ahead of you. Together you are very strong. If you can meld successfully with the orb, you will be invincible. But each of you has a fatal flaw within you that could cause the destruction of everything. You must become aware of these flaws and fight against them, lest one or both of you trigger the destruction of all." Out of the side of her mouth, Sara whispered to Ian, "He talks just like you used to." Ian closed his eyes.

"Protector," Lazar said, turning to Ian, whose eyes flew open, "I regret that I was not able to save you from what you endured at Kenneth's hands. At a crucial point many years ago, there was only time to rescue one of you – and I chose the Wielder. Considering your upbringing and conditioning, you have turned out surprisingly well." Sara gave Ian's hand a little squeeze and smiled at him proudly. \ hav have moved, however, from being Kenneth's mind slave to being the Wielder's soul slave without ever becoming your own in that transition. You give yourself too absolutely and without question. You must begin to define who you are rather than who you serve. And, you must be as willing to live for yourself as you are to die for the Wielder." Sara glanced at Ian. His golden eyes looked very thoughtful.

"Wielder," Lazar continued, as Sara's head swung toward him again, "You have become a strong and moral woman. Your flaw is understandable. Having lost so many of those you love, you now fear to give that love unconditionally. You must overcome your fear to love and trust the Protector as fully as he does you. Without that complete love and trust, the Triumverate cannot be." Now, Sara had something to think about too. "When the trials come, you must overcome these flaws to bond into one seamless weapon that can protect this world from the Great Void. Be aware," he finished.

"Now, are you ready to hear of the Evil that approaches the gates, and of how the Triumverate must hold those gates against it?" Lazar asked. Rapt, eyes wide, Sara slid her hand into Ian's. He clutched it. They both nodded. Again, looking like some strange and eerie elf, Lazar smiled. "Before I begin, a cup of tea would be nice," he said.

Ian started to turn toward the kitchen to make Lazar his tea when Sara squeezed the hand she still held. "Stay," she said softly, "I'll do it." Ian returned the squeeze with a quick smile before he let go of her hand. In the kitchen, Sara put on the tea kettle and made herself a fresh pot of coffee. She could hear their voices talking softly but couldn't make out what they were saying. She thought that Lazar was a strange duck and she wasn't at all sure that she liked him much. Still, forewarned was forearmed as Ian like to say, so she thought it best to reserve her judgment until she heard all that he had to tell them.

Lazar had offered his help, after all, and it wasn't as if they had much beyond themselves to count on if another battle was brewing. She wanted to keep her friends out of it if she could. Danny and Jake, let alone Vicki, were no match for the kinds of enemies that the Witchblade drew. She needed to find some way to keep them out of it if she could. But, of course, she knew that someone like Irons wouldn't hesitto uto use them as pawns against her – as he'd already done with Danny when he'd had Ian and Christina bury him alive. Sara pushed a hand roughly through her hair and thought, "I can't think about this now. I need to pay attention to what he has to say and what he can teach us. I'll try to figure out a way to protect them later." Then, the kettle whistled and she put her concerns for her friends on hold to fix Lazar's tea.

When she carried in a tray holding the tea things, two mugs, and her fresh coffee, Ian quickly got up from the chair where he was sitting to take it from her and set it on the coffee table. Sara sat next to Lazar on the sofa as Ian sat back in the chair. As Sara proceeded to serve the tea to the two men, she frowned and thought, "What the hell am I doing? I feel like I'm in some half-assed Merchant/Ivory flick." She glanced up to meet Ian's eyes and she saw his lips curve into a smile that was wicked at the corners. Sara felt a response tug at her lips as she thought, "And you know exactly what's going through my mind, don't you, you devil." Restraining himself admirably, Ian cleared his throat and dropped his eyes back to his tea.

Lazar took a long sip of tea and sighed appreciatively, eyeing yet another silent exchange between the Wielder and her Protector. "Yes. They're coming along nicely," he thought. Aloud, he said, "Now, where was I?" "Great evil," Sara responded between gulps of coffee. "Ah, yes," he said, "This world is a careful balance of two great opposing forces – that which creates and that which destroys. As long as the balance is maintained, life as you know it continues. There are small gains and losses each day for each side but, basically, life goes on. For some time now, that which destroys – the Great Void, the Nothingness – has been gaining in strength."

Sara raised her hand. "Yes, Sara," Lazar said, with that little smile. "has has this badness been getting stronger?" she asked. "That's an excellent question," he replied, "Unfortunately, I have no answer for you other than that times change. These times and the ways of them have pushed the gates open wider from the dark side. In the normal way of things, a new Wielder has a chance to learn and adapt to the Witchblade before she is sorely tested. You have had no such luxury. In the short time since you were chosen, you have been assaulted by all manner of pretenders and challengers. You have been pushed to your limit and forced to take drastic action. It is a sign of the growing darkness. Still, it has been valuable preparation for what is to come."

Sara kept her patience. "Which is?" she asked. "Convergence," Lazar replied. Sara looked blank for a moment and said, "Parallel lines always meet." A bright smile lit his ageless pixie face. "Precisely," he said, "Surprisingly perceptive too." "When?" she asked. Lazar inclined his head at Ian, who said, "11/11/02." She shifted her gaze to Ian and asked, "Why does that date seem familiar?" He leaned forward to take her hand. "It's the date that the Witchblade chose you in the Midtown Museum onar aar ago," he replied, golden eyes warm with the memory. Lazar added, "But the year is now also part of the equation – 02 is 1 plus 1 or 11." Sclosclosed her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt. "And what's so special about that number?" she asked. "It is the number of the duality itself," Lazar replied, "The paired opposites – light and dark, good and evil, all and nothing, creation and destruction – facing each other in balance."

Sara asked, "How do Ian and I fit into this picture?" "In the dialectic of this world, the objects of power are neutral – neither good nor Laz Laz Lazar replied, "Rather, they take on the orientation of their Wielder." Sara narrowed her eyes. "Let me get this straight," she said, "So, if I wear the Witchblade, it's a power for good but if, let's say, Lucretzia wears the Witchblade, it becomes a power for evil." Lazar inclined his head and said, "Taking into consideration all the degrees in between, of course. Someone is rarely either absolutely good or absolutely evil." "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm just dense but I still don't see where we fit," Sara said. "Only the Triumverate can prevent a convergence; prevent one force from overringring the other and throwing the world into chaos," Lazar told her, "The focused power of the Triumverate can close the gate to keep the parallel lines from converging." "But parallel lines always meet," she repeated. "Yes," Lazar agreed, "They must eventually meet in a moment of destiny. They must not, however, converge or the world as you know it will cease because, as things are now, darkness will overcome light."

Sara frowned again. "But, I thought that you said that the orb had never been used successfully. How did Wielders stop past convergences?" she asked. Now, Lazar also frowned and said, "They did not. In the past, the danger has always been averted before a convergence was even possible. The balance has always been maintained. Neither force has ever been strong enough to truly challenge the other." Sara's lips set stubbornly. "So, can't we find a way to bring back the balance or at least reduce the risk before the 11th of November?" she asked. "If I thought that, I would not be here. I would be taking those actions to prevent the convergence," Lazar replied, "You are the last resort, Wielder. It is simply too late to change what is coming. All we can do is face it and attempt to prevail."

Now, Ian spoke up. "Where will this happen?" he asked. Lazar faced Ian, "That will be up to you and the Wielder." "Why is that?" he asked. "Because," Lazar replied, "The evil will be drawn to the Triumverate as the power that blocks it at the gate. It will come to you." Sara turned to study Ian's face. She could almost hear the thoughts churning in that beautiful head. "What are you thinking?" Sara asked him. "The cabin," Ian replied, "It's isolated. There's less possibility of hurting innocents." Sara nodded in agreement and said, "Yeah. Good choice." He gave her his quick, stunning smile.

Now, Sara's eyes widened as a new thought occurred to her. "What about the Lance of Longinus?" she asked, "That's another object of power, isn't it?" Lazar nodded. "Indeed it is," he replied. "So, if we could find a Wielder for the Lance, that would be another line of defense at the gate. Right?" "It would," he agreed, "If you could find a Wielder who could master it. It is like the Witchblade. It accepts or rejects the candidate as worthy. Who did you have in mind?" "Why not you?" she suggested. The pixie smile returned. "I am truly flattered that you see me as worthy, Sara," he replied, "But I am a Watcher, a Guide. I cannot participate though I would wish it otherwise. I'm sorry." Ian cleared his throat and they both turned toward him. "I may have an idea," he said, "Let me look into it a little before I share it though. Okay?" "Sure, babyshe she agreed, "Just don't take too long. We don't have much time." He nodded.

Sara took a deep breath and asked, "What happens now?" "You get ready," Lazar said, "We will leave for your cabin in one week's time. Then, we will work every day to meld you with the orb in the time that remains." Sara's mouth dropped open. "But what about work?" she sputtered, "What do I tell them?" "You tell them nothing," Lazar replied, "This I can do. You leave it to me. If the world remains intact, your work will be there for you when you return."

Now, Lazar looked at Ian. "You have just started working with Dr. Marx to detect and break the conditioning that Kenneth imposed on you, Protector," Lazar said. Ian nodded. "You have one week to find a way to do this. It is imperative that this control be found and neutralized," Lazar said. Ian looked grim as he asked, "And if we fail?" "Then, you could be more danger than ally," Lazar replied, "You could be turned to destroy the Wielder and breach the gate." "I would never allow that to happen," Ian said, "I'd die first." Lazar smiled coldly. "I do not doubt your intent, Ian. I only doubt your ability to act independently when Kenneth's iron hand is controlling your will," he said. Ian dropped his head, staring at the floor, lost in his own thoughts.

Lazar stood aaid,aid, "Thank you for the tea. We have made a good start, I think. In one week's time, the true work begins." Then, he smiled at them both and simply disappeared.

Sara rose from the sofa, letting out another yelp. Ian also stood, quickly grabbing the mug in her hand to avoid more spilled coffee. "Why doesn't anyone just use the damn door?" she asked, plaintively. They looked at each other across the coffee table, hands wrapped around the dangerously tilting mug between them. Sara's face crumpled and she asked, "What are we going to do?" Ian took the mug from her hands and put it down on the table. He skirted the table, pulling her into his arms and sitting on the sofa in one fluid movement. Sara pushed herself up on to his lap, sliding her arms around his neck, and burying her face in that wonderful hollow between his chin and shoulder. She ly ily inhaled his scent to steady herself. "We're going to take each day as it comes and not worry about the future," he said softly, rubbing her back.

She snorted against his warm shoulder. "Oh, yeah. That's easy for you to say," she said. "No," he replied, "It's not." She raised her head to look deep into his eyes. "What?" she asked. "What if Marx can't defuse me? You need me to form the Triumverate but what if I'm still an unknown? If I think that I might hurt you, Sara, I'll…" he hesitated, trying to find words that she'd accept, "remove myself." "The hell you will," she responded. "I won't be used to harm you," he said stubbornly. "There's no point in borrowing trouble," she said, "Who knows what Marx can do in a week. And, if he can't help, then we'll find another way to protect ourselves against whatever Irons has done to you. I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself for me, Ian. That's just not an option."

They were silent for several moments, then Sara said, "I wish…," dropping her head back to his shoulder. "What do you wish?" he asked, turning his face to kiss her forehead. "I wish we'd had more time just to be together before all hell broke loose like this," she finished. "Me too," he whispered, "There are so many things that I wanted to do with you and share with you." "Like?" she asked. Now, there was silence. She lifted her head again to search his eyes. He stared boldly back at her for a moment, trying to gauge her mood. Then, he dropped his eyes, remaining silent, and the thick, dark lashes hid his emotions. "It's okay," she sai"You"You might as well tell me. We might not get another chance to talk like this once the momentum starts to build." Eyes still lowered, he responded, "It's just that we've never talked about where we might go with this. I don't want to scare you away." She grinned and put a hand under his chin, hoping to force him to look at her again. It didn't work. "I don't scare easily," she said, "You know that."

He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I've been thinking a lot about what it would be like to take the next step. Maybe make a real commitment to each other," he said so softly that she could barely hear him. She smiled and pushed back a stray lock of his silky hair. "You mean like going steady?" she asked. Now, those smoky amber eyes rose to meet hers. And what she saw in them made her heart speed up and took her breath. "No," he said, "I mean like getting married." Now, she was silent, stunned by what he'd said. "See," he said, lips curving wryly, "I told you that I'd scare you." When she stayed silent, he started to get defensive and pull back into himself. The lashes lowered again and he said, "You don't have to say anything. You asked what I wished and I told you. I didn't expect you to feel the same way. I know it's just a dream. I have lots of them. For most of my existence, I've had dreams instead of a life. It's alright."

He gently eased her off his lap and back on to the sofa beside him. Then, he reached to pick up the tray from the coffee table to take the dishes into the kitchen. As he started to rise, Sara caught his arm and held it. Ian let go of the tray and sat back down. He still didn't look at her. "Not so fast, ace," she said, "Did you just ask me to marry you?" Ian cleared his throat and said, "Sort of, hypothetically, yes. I guess I did. I didn't really intend on doing this now and certainly not this way. I guess the end of the world thing threw me. We can just pretend that the whole conversation never happened if you want."

She once again took his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. He met her eyes this time, but gingerly as if he was about to flinch from a blow. He perched on the edge of the sofa like he was tensed to bolt. Her whole face lit up in a smile and she said, "It's my first proposal. Marriage proposal, that is. You just took me by surprise, that's all." He couldn't help but smile back at her. "I don't wonder," he replied, "I kind of took myself by surprise." She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. Very, very slowly, the kiss moved from sweet to tender to searing. Along the way, she found herself back on his lap, with her arms tight around his neck, and her fingers deep in his hair. He held her close against him. One of his hands slipped up under her t-shirt, warm fingers splayed across her back. His other hand supported her bottom, pulling her snug against him. When she was finished devouring his mouth, her lips left a trail of hot kisses across his cheek to his ear, where she bit the lobe and whispered, "Yes."

It took him a full minute before it sank in. When it did, he turned so quickly to look at her that she almost didn't pull back in time to avoid bumping heads. The golden eyes were enormous. Watching her closely, he said, "Don't play with me about this, Sara. It's too important. Please don't say it if you don't mean it. Take it back now if you're not sure." She stroked his cheek with her hand and he leaned into it, briefly shutting his eyes. "I'm sure," she replied. His eyes slowly opened again and found hers. "Are you saying yes because you think we're going to die?" he asked. Sara laughed and said, "Give yourself just a little credit, will you, baby. I'm saying yes because I'm in love with you." He looked dazed. "I can't believe you said yes," he whispered, stunned, "I'm going to hold you to it now." He gave her the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. "My god," he roared, "You said that you'd marry me and you meant it!!" He let out a great whoop and picked her up off the sofa in his arms, swinging her around the loft. She laughed with him and said, "Put me down you maniac."

Ian let her slide down his body to stand again, still held tight in the circle of his arms. Sara looked up into those wide, golden eyes, now brimming with all kinds of emotions. "I did this all wrong," he said, "I didn't plan it and I never in a million years expected you to say yes. Give me a little time and I'll do it the right way. I'll make it memorable for you. I'll give you all the hoopla that's expected and then some. Okay?" "Okay," she said, mesmerized by what she was seeing in his eyes. "When?" he asked. "When it's over," she replied, "That's how we'll start our new life." He smiled ruefully. "Well," he said, "I guess this gives me incentive to get through the Convergence unscathed. Was that part of the plan?" She shook her head and replied, "Nope. That's just a side benefit. But I do want a fit and healthy groom with all of his body parts intact."

"Of course," she said huskily, sliding her hand under the band of his sweatpants and down to carress him, "I'm fonder of some of those body parts than others." She heard his sharp intake of breath as he nuzzled her neck. "Do what you want with them – they're all yours," he whispered raggedly, "Only let's do it on the bed because now my knees are getting weak." She pulled out her hand and his head came up from her neck. "Ahh," he said, "Why did you stop?" Sara laughed at the befuddled look on his face. "It would be kind of hard to navigate to the bed, ace, holding on to you like that, don't you think?" she asked. He blushed and laughed with her. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little out of it. I still can't believe that you said you'd marry me," he said, wonder in his voice. "Well, get it together before I take it back," she teased. "Yes, maam," he replied, lifting her and carrying her to the bed.

Ian sat on the bed, holding her on his lap, one arm still around her back and one behind her knees. Sara tightened her arms ad hid his neck to pull his head to hers. Their lips met and the kiss was long, slow, and hot with lots of sliding tongue action. When their lips parted, she dropped her head to his shoulder breathless and said, "Too many clothes." She grabbed at the hem of his sweatshirt and he shifted her to the bed beside him. In five seconds flat, he'd pulled off his boots, dragged his sweatshirt over his head, and stripped off both pairs of pants. Then, he turned to her. "Lift," he said, referring to her arms. She stretched her arms above her head and he pulled off her tee, dropping it with his discarded clothing on the floor. He tugged at the waistband of her sweatpants and she lifted her hips off the bed. He pulled them and her panties off in one quick motion.

Sara fell back on the bed, pulling him with her. They stretched out facing each other. She brushed back an ebony curl that had strayed across his cheek, her touch whisper soft. He closed his eyes and a barely visible shiver ran through him. She pulled the sheet up over them both and studied his face, thng, ng, "I'm going to marry this man. He's going to be my husband. Two months ago, I could barely be civil to him. Am I making a huge mistake here? Have I really taken a good look at what's inside the pretty wrapping?" The Witchblade flashed on her wrist, as if in protest at her thoughts, and Sara pushed her right hand under the pillow.

Ian's eyes opened and he looked at her questioningly. He'd sensed the direction but not the content of some of her thoughts, and he'd felt her interplay with the bracelet. She saw a little crease appear between his brows. She knew by now that was a clear sign of distress. "What's wrong?" he asked, "You haven't changed your mind already, have you? That would be a new record for short engagements, I think." He was trying to maightight of it but she could hear the edge of desperation in his voice. She touched the curve of his cheek again and he turned his face to kiss her hand. "Nah. Just too many earth-shattering events for one day, I think – end of the world, marriage proposal, you know. I feel sort of shell shocked, I guess."

"Well," he said, only a little relieved, "Let me see if I can relax you a bit. And, while I do, let me give you some reasons why I'll make you a good husband." "Ian, you don't have to…," she started. But he just said, "Shhh, turn over on your stomach." "What?" she asked. "Just do it, Sara," he replied, "It'll be pleasant. I promise." She sighed and turned over.

"Okay, number one," he said, working his clever fingers into the tight muscles of her neck and shoulders, "I told you once that you and I were alike more than any two on this earth. That means that I understand the burden that you carry – the visions, the vertigo when the déjà vu hits." Sara's head turned on the pillow to look back at him. "Yes, it happens to me too," he replied in answer to her glance. "I understand the responsibilities of it and the way that it isolates you from almost everyone around you. It doesn't isolate you from me. It draws us together. Also, I think the Witchblade has a little yen for me, which doesn't hurt." Sara snorted and they both saw another flash of red from where Sara's hand was buried under the pillow. "You better wathat hat you say, pal," she remarked, her muffled voice drowsy.

"Number two," he continued, moving to the muscles of her upper back, "I love you with every fibre of my being. I'll never leave you of my own accord. I'll never want anyone but you. You're everything to me, my entire world. I know you see that as a double-edged sword, with the stalker the dark side of the lover. But I swear that I'd never hurt you, Sara. I'd die first." She made another sound and said, "I'd rather have you live with me than die for me, Ian. I keep seeing this awful image of you in a garage, falling to your knees under a hail of bullets." His hands froze on her back. "I've seen that too," he said softly. "Is it the future?" she asked, finally voicing one of her worst fears. "Or, maybe the past," he replied. "What? How can that be? It obviously hasn't already happened or you wouldn't be here. Right?" she said, starting to sit up. He pressed a warm hand on her back to keep her in place. "Questions that don't need answers right now," he said, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here now and I'm not finished."

She settled back down as his fingers picked up their rhythm on her lower back. "Numthrethree," he added, "I'm wealthy." Sara laughed into the pillow. "Okay, you got me," she said, "That's a good one." "I know that you don't really care about the money," he continued, "But it offers possibilities that you probably haven't considered." "Like?" she asked, her voice sleepy again. "Travel," he replied, "We could spend next weekend in Paris." "Nice try, ace," she said, "But we're spending next weekend at your rustic cabin in the woods getting ready for the Apocalypse, remember?" "Ah, well," he whispered seductively, "Armageddon won't always be just around the corner. Think about it. Going to plays in London, making love on a beach in Tahiti at sunset, sipping Sangria in Malaga." "Ummmm," she sighed, sinking deeper into the bed as his hands worked their magic, "It does have possibilities."

"Number four," Ian purred, sliding his warm, agile fingers between her legs, "You've taught me everything I know about pleasing a woman. As a lover, you've customized me to suit your tastes. I haven't picked up any bad, annoying habits from trying to please someone else. I know what you like and I try to excel in all I do." Sara started to strain against the skillful fingers that were simultaneously stroking her and dipping inside her. "And you succeed," she panted, gripping his hand with hers and grinding herself against him as a devastating orgasm overtook her. "Thank yo he he replied, giving her a moment to recover before starting to carress her again.

She started to squirm almost immediately, making little noises in the back of her throat and digging her nails into his hand, which she still held. "Oh god, Ian," she gasped, "I want you." "You have me," he calmly replied. "No," she keened, the gasp working its way up to a cry, "I want you now. Inside me. Please." He moved his hand and rolled her over on her back. She slid her fingers over the hard planes of his stomach and down, asking, "Are you…? Of course, you are." He pushed her legs apart and positioned himself between them. Then, he put a hand on each of her knees and bent her legs high up against her chest. "What are you doing to me?" she breathed. "Giving you pleasure, I hope," he replied, leaning forward against her bent legs. Balancing on his arms, Ian pushed very slowly and very, very deeply inside her. Sara instinctively tightened muscmuscles around him and now she heard him groan softly, his breath hot against her shoulder.

She slid her arms around his neck andhed hed her body against his as his thrusts became faster and harder. She pulled his head down to hers. Her lips parted under his and their tongues stroked each other in unison with their more intimate coupling. Sara clamped herself around him as he pistoned inside her, the friction pushing pleasure to a level so intense it was almost painful. They broke the kiss to breathe and he moaned, "Oh, Sara, I love you so," between ragged pants. She felt his muscles bunch under her hands as he fought desperately to hold off his climax just a little longer. Her eyes focused on his rigid neck column as he strained above her and she arched up to lick the sensitive spot just below his beard with her hot tongue. He growled in the back of his throat, "I can't…," and lost the battle, spurting hot jets deep into her. At the same time, Sara let loose an inarticulate cry as she felt an orgasm hit like an earthquake far inside her, with the tremors slowly workiheirheir way out all along the tunnel where Ian now rested.

"I'll move in just a minute," Ian whispered, the words barely audible and breathless. She lifted a shaking hand to push back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. "Take your time," she whispered back, "I can't move either." In a few moments, he held her tight agaihim him and rolled on to his back. From her position on top of him now, Sara stretched out her stiff, bent legs to straddle him, still laying flat against his chest. Her lips nestled in the hair on his chest, she asked, "Can you reach the sheet to pull it up over us? I'm all sweaty and now I'm starting to get chilly." He angled his arm and managed to grab the edge of the sheet with his fingers, pulling on it until it covered most of Sara's back.

She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, studying his face. His eyes were closed. "Hey, Hot Stuff," she said. The sensual lips twitched in a tiny smile. "Is that me?" he asked, eyes still closed. "Oh, yeah," she said. Now, the jungle-cat eyes opened slowly to meet hers. "You just gave me my very first vaginal orgasm," she said. "Is that good?" he asked. "It's incredible. I'm giving you fair warning though. I'm going to want them all the time from now on," she said. The smile turned into a grin. "There's a price for that," he said. She grinned back, "And that is?" "You have to make an honest man of me – which brings me to number five," he replied. She laughed. "You really are relentless, aren't you? Okay, ace, what's number five?" she asked.

"No in-laws," he said, "No family to interfere in your wedding plans or meddle in our life after we're married." She moved one hand to rub his shoulder, wondering if this "advantage" didn't actually hurt him a little. "I don't know, baby," she said gently, "Sometimes family is a good thing." He lifted his head a little to look at her. Frowning, he said, "You do remember who raised me, right?" Sara snorted and replied, "Point taken. Okay, I give you number five." "It may be a problem at the wedding, though," he continued, "We may have to hire people to sit on my side of the church." Sara laughed and said, "We can always drag people in off the street. Or, we could add some local color – invite some of the perps that I've arrested, some of my snitches…" "Thank you, Sara," he said, drily, "I'm sure that would give everyone an accurate picture of my relations." Still laughing, she said, "Sorry, baby. I know that you've reformed. How's this? I'll let you borrow some of my friends and their families for the wedding."

"Which, coincidentally, is number six," Ian said. "Just how many reasons do you have, ace?" she asked, "Do you think we have enough time before the wedding to get them all in?" "I'll just keep giving them to you as they occur to me," Ian said, "That way you'll have a constant reminder of how good I am for you. Number six. I like your friends." "And, they like you," Sara replied, "Yeah, that's a good one. Well, wait a minute – not all of them do. Jake's certainly not fond of you." Ian made a dismissive and slightly offensive gesture with his hand. Sara laughed. "Yes," she said, "I can see that that really bothers you. And, I think Gabriel's a little afraid of you." "Okay," Ian replied, "I can work on that one. We just got off to a bad start. I can make things better with Gabriel." Her eyes softened and she said, "You'd really do that, wouldn't you?" He shifted a little beneath her and replied, "Sure. I like Gabriel well enough and we actually have quite a bit in common."

Before he could come up with another number, Sara said, "As much as I like the feel of you nice and snug in there, I have to move. My legs are starting to cramp." "I can fix that," he responded. "Oh no you don't," she laughed, "That's how all this started." She eased off of him, allowing him to pull slowly out of her. She lay on her side facing him and he rolled to his side to face her, pulling the sheet higher over them both. "Although I hate to give you ammunition in your quest for validation," she said, "I've actually got number seven for you." "See?" he said, grinning, "I knew that I could show you what a good catch I am." She stuck her tongue out at him and said, "Number seven. You can cook." Then, she added as an afterthought, "And, you make great coffee." He frowned and said, "Wait a minute. You don't think coffee is important enough to have it's own number?" "Don't push it, Nottingham," she growled. He just laughed.

"Oh, shit," she sighed, "I've got number eight too." "You think you might be able to get to magic number ten for me?" he asked, "What's number eight?" "You're fun," she replied, smiling, "You're fun to be with – I love your sense of humor. You make me laugh more than anyone except maybe Vicki. I have a good time with you. I like being with you. And, when exactly did you manage to get me to start convincing myself?" He shrugged and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Maybe we should remove a number as a penalty for being such a sneaky bastard," she said. He looked shocked and said, "I'd think that I'd be given credit for some ingenuity here."

He cleared his throat before he continued. "Number nine," he said, "I'm handy." "That was number four, pal," she said, her eyebrow raising and her voice dropping into a lower register. He pushed up a little, resting his head on his hand. A twinkle in his eye, he said, "Tsk, tsk, detective, raise your mind above the privates. I'm referring to getting things done, organizing tasks, managing the daily routine." "Mmmmm," she said, dragging her nails slowly through the hair on his chest, "Good at that, are you?" she asked. He nodded, shutting his eyes to focus on her touch. "Very," he responded, distracted now, "That feels good." She grinned, slowly dragging her nails straight down the path of hair that began at his chest and ended much lower. "Does it?" she d. \d. "Oh," he said, his voice husky, "Really good."

"What's number ten?" she asked. "What?" he responded. "Number ten?" she repeated. "Who cares," he managed. "I care," she said, enjoying the effect that she was causing, "After all, we need closure." "Speak for yourself," he breathed, "I just want to know what you're going to do with that finger." "You mean this?" she asked. He bent one knee to give her more room to maneuver and said, hoarsely, "That's feels wonderful. Don't stop." She smiled and said, "You know the fingers are really just my backup. I'm much better with my tongue." His golden eyes opened wide and met hers just before she lowered her head.

An hour later, Sara raised her head from his chest and asked, "I don't suppose you feel like cooking, do you?" He made a sound like a purr deep in his chest and replied, "I feel like flying. What would you like?" She kissed his bare chest and said, "How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?" "That's not cooking," he scoffed, "You want to celebrate our engagement with grilled cheese sandwiches?" "And tomato soup," she added. "I could make a whole meal, you know. Something balanced," he said. She didn't answer. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and disengaged himself from her arms. He pulled on his sweatpants and headed toward the kitchen, saying, "Grilled cheese and tomato soup coming up."

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

Sara sat eyeing the remaining half of the grilled cheese sandwich still on Ian's plate. He glanced up, spoonful of tomato soup halfway to his lips. "Number ten," he said, "I'm generous. I try to give you what you want." He pushed his plate across the table to Sara, adding, "Even when you're not yet convinced what that is." Sara smiled. "Ah, but is giving me what I want good for me?" she asked, tearing into his grilled cheese with great relish. He swallowed the soup before answering. "A metaphysical question that I'm neither qualified nor coherent enough to answer right now," he replied. "Danced around that one, didn't you, ace?" she asked, licking her fingers. He shrugged.

Ian pushed aside his soup plate. He put his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his folded hands. "So, where do you want to go on our honeymoon?" he asked. She shook her head and said, "You're g to to drive me nuts with this, aren't you?" He wasn't about to let up. "It's a simple question," he said. She dropped her eyes and said, "I don't know. What do you think about Orlando – they've got Disneyworld, Busch Gardens, Sea World, all that stuff?" She raised her eyes and had to laugh at the lof shf sheer horror on his face. "Take it easy, pal," she said, "I'm just kidding." Then, she added, "Although I have to admit it might be worth it to see you in a pair of mouse ears."

His lips quirked and he said, "But, seriously folks…" "Okay, okay," she replied, "If you're really going to pin me down, I've always kind of wanted to see Italy. Of course, I know that's really extravagant." "Not at all," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, "It's a good choice. We can go to Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples, Capri, and all the places in between. In fact, it's perfect." Sara's eyes had gone wide. "How much time are we talking here, Ian?" she asked, "You know I can't be away from the job for too long, right?" "I guess we could hold it down to a month," he replied. "A month," she said, mouth dropping open, "I can't – a week, maybe two at the most. How much vacation time do you think I get?" "We'll work it out," he assured her, "I want you to have something wonderful to look forward to and to remember. After all, you only get married once. At least, I do."

Sara frowned and said, "Now that you've got the honeymoon all worked out, I guess you're going to start on the wedding, yes?" He shook his head. "No," he replied, "I leave that entirely up to you. Do what you want. Spend what you want. Send the bills to me. Just tell me what you want me to wear, what you want me to say, and where you want me to stand, and I'll be there." She stroked the hand that still held hers and said, cautiously, "About that, I need you to do me a favor." "Sure, anything," he replied. "Don't mentthe the engagement to anyone until after the Convergence is over." she said.

His eyes narrowed. "Why?" he asked. "Because Danny would never be able to keep it to himself," she replied, "He'd tell Lee. Lee would immediately tell Rosa. Rosa would call Vicki. Once those three know, I'm dead meat. They won't give me a moment's peace until the whole ordeal is over." "Ordeal?" he asked, pulling back his hand. Now, she was looking into amber eyes suddenly full of hurt. "Oh no," she said quickly, reaching for his hand again, "Oh baby, I'm sorry. Marrying you isn't the ordeal. It's just that Lee, Rosa, and Vicki are going to freak out. They're going to want to do the whole nine yards – bridal shower, gown shopping, Bride magazines, seating arrangements, yada, yada, yada. That's what I meant by ordeal. With the Convergence coming, I just can't deal with that too."

"Maybe a big wedding isn't a good idea," he said, mollified by her explanation, "I thought it would be fun for you, but we could just as easily elope and get married at City Hall or by a justice of the peace. I don't care how or even when we do it – as long as we do it soon." "So, you're okay with not telling anyone until after the Convergence then?" she asked. "Sure," he said, "I understand what you're saying, especially after seeing those ladies in action. I won't mention it, though I'm not really likely to be in a position where it will come up anyway." She shrugged and said, "You never know. Once we start working with Lazar at the cabin, I don't think there's really going to be time to think about any of this again until the battle is over anyway."

They were silent for a few minutes, finishing their meal. Then, Sara ran a hand through her hair and sighed, "Back to work tomorrow. Danny and I have to go see your old boss and his new playmate." Ian had started to gather the plates. Now, he stopped dead and said, "What?" "The Moffett investigation," she replied, "Our primary suspect is your buddy 'X.' We have to question her." He sat back down. "She's not my buddy. What's the point of such an interrogation?" he asked. Sara shook her head. "There not much of one really," she said, "We have no forensic evidence that will tie her to the murder. We have no witnesses. We're certainly not going to get a confession from her. We've got her visit to Gabriel, but I'd rather not drag him further into the investigation if it serves no real purpose. Still, questioning her is SOP and it has to be done." "Be careful, Sara," he said, clearly worried.

"What is there about her that spooks you so much?" she asked. He looked uncomfortable and said, "Just a feeling really. I haven't been able to find out much about her abilities and background, and that alone is unsettling. Her paranormal talents have surely been tested but, if they have, the results are well hidden. My instincts tell me to exercise extreme caution around her." Sara snorted. "Well, that's certainly helpful." He was obviously frustrated. "I'm sorry I can't tell you anything more useful," he replied, "She's covered her tracks very well. Just, please, be on your guard around her. And don't, under any circumstances, go there alone. You must take Danny with you. Promise me that, Sara." "Jeez," Sara thought, "Now he's starting to spook me too." Aloud, she said, "Yeah, yeah sure. I promise."

"You promise me that you'll be careful tomorrow too," Sara said. "Me?" he responded, "Why should I be in any danger?" "Because I know you, Ian," she said, "You've only got a week to work with Dr. Marx to break Irons' conditioning. You're going to push harder than you probably should. Be careful." "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Right, standard Nottingham response," she snorted, "Famous last words." "Really. You have nothing to worry about," he said, "I'm not going to take any chances on missing my own wedding."

"And, here we are back to that topic again," she said, "What a surprise." He smiled at her and said, "All roads lead to Rome. And, since we are talking about the wedding again, I'd like you to keep Wednesday night free." "Why?" she asked, curious in spite of herself. "It's a surprise," he said, "We'll be going out and you can wear your new green dress again. Will that be okay?" She lifted a shoulder and said, "Sure. I guess so. I don't have anything planned. You're not going to embarrass me with a bunch of sentimental stuff in public, are you?" "Perish the thought," he responded, "Now, you can relax. I promise that I won't bring up the wedding again tonight." She made an offensive sound to show her disbelief and he grinned.

He gathered their dinner dishes and headed toward the kitchen. "Do you want me to help you?" Sara called after him. But he just said, "Don't bother. It will only take me a couple of minutes to clean this up." Let off the hook, she stretched out on the sofa and picked up the remote. Flipping around the channels, she found an old Bette Davis movie that she liked called "All About Eve." It had just started so she plumped up the pillows behind her and settled in to watch. She was so engrossed in the movie that she didn't notice when Ian sat on the sofa beside her. He had to nudge her to get her attention so that she'd make room for him. She stood up, still watching the screen, so that he could stretch out in his usual place behind her. When he laid down, she snuggled back against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He put his arms around her and dropped his head against hers.

When Ian felt her shiver a little, he pulled the quilt off the back of the sofa and down over her. In answer to her barely mumbled, "Thanks," he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. When the movie ended, he looked down to find that 'd f'd fallen asleep in his arms. He struggled to get himself back to a sitting position on the sofa without waking her.almoalmost pulled it off. But as he got himself upright, still holding her in his arms, he heard her whisper, "Ian?" "Go back to sleep, baby," he whispered, "I'm just going to take you to bed." He carried her to the bed, undressed her, and tucked her in. During the whole process, she never woke up.

He set the alarm and then went to the kitchen to also set the timer on the new coffeemaker he'd gotten. He'd already ground fresh coffee and filled it with water when he'd cleaned up the dinner dishes. That done, he stripped off his clothes and dropped them in the hamper, walking back to the bed naked. He carefully eased in next to Sara. She immediately turned into his waiting arms, cuddling close to him. Half an hour later, his lips curved in a happy smile, he was dreaming of wild and wedded lovemaking in a rocking gondola on a Venetian canal.