Breathing Space

Sara was sitting in the chair across from Lazar, who was perched on the edge of the sofa like a brooding elf. He was giving her his full attention as she described her recent dream. Ian joined them quietly, slipping to the floor at Sara's feet, his back resting against her legs. As she continued describing the dream, she absently reached out a hand to tangle it in Ian's hair. She stroked the back of his head soothingly, as if she unconsciously sensed some of his inner turmoil. Ian shut his eyes and leaned back into her caressing fingers, hungry for any reassurance of her feelings for him. Lazar's bulbous gaze briefly shifted to Ian. Lazar tilted his head, a curious gleam lighting his eyes, before he focused back on the Wielder.

Sara finished her description and sat waiting expectantly for some guidance. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable. Sara's frail patience gave out first. "Well?" she asked Lazar, "What does it mean?" A small smile touched his lips. "I have no idea," he said, "Beyond the most literal translation. Meaning that you were given a preview of events that will occur during the Convergence. Mobius wielding the Lance and the enemy poised for destruction beyond the Gate. These are very likely images of things that may occur. Will they occur? That, of course, depends on many things." "Such as?" Sara asked, obviously frustrated. Lazar waved a hand dismissively and said, "Variables too numerous too try to describe. The vagaries of life, my child." "That's a big help," she said, disgusted. Lazar shrugged. "I'm sorry that I can't provide you with any definitive answers to your fears, Wielder. It's obvious that this dream has greatly upset both you and the Protector." Ian's eyes opened wide before he quickly dropped his head.

Sara's stroking hand moved from Ian's head to his neck. She gently kneaded the corded muscles that she found there. "I think that it's the other part of the dream that has Ian and I upset," she said, "My little tête-à-tête with the Witchbl" L" Lazar nodded and asked, "Tell me again what It said to you?" "'To save him, you must lose him,'" she repeated, "Sounds like It has been taking cryptic lessons from you and Ian, doesn't it?" Lazar spread his hands. "I'm sorry, Wielder," he said, "The words mean no more to me than they do to you. I understand why you're upset. I can only reiterate what I'm sure the Protector has already said to you." Sara sighed. "Nothing in the future is absolute. Things can change. A choice can only be made in the moment in which it occurs. Yada, yada, yada," she said. "Exactly," Lazar agreed.

Sara suddenly moved her hand to Ian's shoulder and squeezed. "Ian, honey, are you okay?" she asked, "You're so quiet." When he took a deep breath before he answered her, Sara jumped in, saying, "Don't just tell me you're fine, Ian. Something has upset you big time and I want to know what it is. It happened when we were in the shower, didn't it?" Ian silently cursed himself for his transparency. He'd thought that he'd hidden his feelings. "I should know by now that I can't fool her," he thought. He lifted the shoulder that she still held. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just felt a little down and I'm having a hard time shaking it. That's all it is. It's nothing tangible, just a mood. I'm sure that it will pass soon."

Sara frowned and thought, "And you're lying through your teeth, Nottingham. Okay, I'll let it go for now but I'll get it out of you one way or another." She released his shoulder and said, "Okay, baby. I'm sure you're right. It'll pass as soon as we get to work." She turned back to Lazar. "Speaking of which," she said, "What do you have lined up for us today?" Lazar had also been watching Ian's face, eyes narrowed, as he responded to Sara's concerns. He'd come to the same conclusion as Sara: the Protector was lying. "Why?" Lazar wondered, "What is causing this deep pain and fear that he's trying so hard to hide?" Aloud, Lazar said, "During the Convergence, you must both maintain a ternary focus with your mind. One part must be focused on holding the gate. One part must be connected to the other. One part must be aware of what's happening around you. We need to work to master each one of these three controls separately and then you must work to master the joining of the three."

Sara snorted. "Sounds simple enough," she said sarcastically, "Jeez, I have trouble remembering to get everything I need at the supermarket." That made Ian smile in spite of himself, because he knew it was only too true. "I think that you will find this considerably simpler to master than the supermarket," Lazar replied. "Well, good," Sara huffed. "Today, we will begin to work on the discipline that is required to hold the gate. We will continue in this direction until you are ready to attempt the ternary focus. I have settled on this plan because I believe that the link between you and the Protector is extremely strong and that your wordless communication is perfecting itself effortlessly. This will continue to improve with no further intervention on my part," Lazar said.

"As far as dealing with the enemy," Lazar continued, "Those challenges will be both mental and physical. You are experienced in dealing with physical challenges. I have nothing to teach you there. As far as fighting the enemy's illusions, you can use the block that I have already taught you. Beyond that, you must use your sense to recognize that you are facing an illusion and your strength of will to overcome it. Again, this is innate and not something that I can teach you. Are you ready to begin?" They both nodded. "Good," Lazar replied, "We will start with a harmless crystal. Only when the technique is perfected, will we try to channel your joined power through the orb." Lazar stood and moved to the open part of the room where Ian always did his katas. He placed a large, clear crystal on the floor in front of him. "Please come here," he said to them.

Sara stood and extended her hand to Ian where he still sat on the floor, much as she had in the shower. This time, he took her hand – more to touch her again than because he needed its support to stand. He stood gracefully, barely tugging on her hand at all. They walked over to Lazar, hands still joined. "The positioning of the Triumverate during a Convergence is quite precise," Lazar began, "The Wielder is the bottom left point of the triangle and faces toward the Gate. The Protector is the bottom right point of the triangle and faces away from the Gate. The orb or, in this case, the crystal is the top point of the triangle and is closest to the Gate." Sara squinted, trying to get a handle on things. "So, in this scenario, the fireplace is the Gate," she said. Lazar looked over at the fireplace. "There may be a bit more distance between the orb and the Gate but your analogy is probably fairly accurate," he replied. Sara glanced over at Ian. "Was that a 'Yes'?" she asked. Ian smiled and nodded.

Lazar put his hands on Sara's shoulders to turn her to face the crystal and beyond it, the fireplace. Then, he moved Ian about two feet to Sara's right and directly parallel to her. He turned Ian to face away from the crystal. "At the beginning, contact should help. Soon, I think you will be able to focus your power without the physical connection. For now, let's connect Excalibur and the Witchblade," Lazar directed. They turned their heads to look at each other and Lazar felt the palpable wave of love that passed between them. Ian smiled again and reached out his hand to hers. Sara reached back and Ian slid his fingers over her wrist, resting his ring against her bracelet.

A flash of magenta light erupted from the Witchblade and Ian felt a distinctly sexual caress slither up his arm, across his chest, and down his abdomen, to settle and spread its heat throughout his groin. He gasped and flushed. Sara glanced at him curiously as he shifted his stance to try to hide the erection that was suddenly growing in his sweatpants. Her eyes traveled down and she grinned at Ian's discomfort. "Witchblade say hello to you, baby?" she asked. The color in Ian's cheeks deepened as he fought to regain control of himself. Sara rubbed one finger against the palm of his hand and said softly so only he could hear, "What a waste. Hold that thought for tonight, okay?"

Lazar asked, "Are you ready?" Ian cleared his throat, very embarrassed. "Yes, Sir," he mumbled. "Ready," Sara said, still highly entertained by the Witchblade's opportunistic grope. "Alright," Lazar said, "I want you to see your power joining and then arcing from that juncture through the crystal to the log that I've set up by the fireplace. Clear?" "Crystal," Sara replied with a smirk. "Do you need time to collect yourself, Wielder?" Lazar reprimanded. Sara reined in her amusement and said soberly, "No, thanks. I'm ready to go." "Very well," Lazar said, "Proceed."

The first indication that something was happening was a crackle like static electricity and a little zigzag of lightning shooting from their joined hands toward the crystal. It was Sara's turn to gasp. The energy bolt fizzled out. She started to pull back her hand, but Ian gripped it more tightly. She turned her head to look at him and saw that he was completely centered on the task they'd been given. Sara took a deep breath and created the image of their power in her mind's eye again. This time the result was faster and more stable. A sizzling arc of white-hot power shot from their joined hands to the crystal. The crystal then seemed to synthesize and channel the energy into a focused beam that extended to the target log and set it aflame. Lazar, fire iron at the ready, pushed the flaming log into the fireplace. "Well done," he said. Sara beamed. Ian slumped.

By the time that they were ready to quit for the day, they could send their joined energy through the crystal without touching each other. Further, they'd learned to control the focused power directed by the crystal. They could shift it from a highly concentrated beam that burned a hole through the log like a laser to a wide angled flash that set the entire log aflame at once. Lazar was very pleased with their progress. Sara looked energized. Ian looked exhausted. As he got ready to leave them, Lazar said, "You did very well today. Tomorrow, we will work with this some more. I'll bring a different pair of crystals and we will see if you can mold your power into a field that stretches between them. Get some rest."

Lazar started to turn away. Then, he stopped and turned back to face Ian. "Protector," he said. Ian shifted his listless gaze toward Lazar. "Worry is a futile emotion. As regret dwells in the past, worry dwells in the future. Neither time is within your control. You only control what you do in the present. Do not waste the present by worrying about the future. Do you understand me?" Ian's smile was fleeting and sad. "I understand you," he said, "For me, that's easier said than done. I'll try to keep my mind where it belongs though, Sir. Thank you." Lazar nodded and, then, between one second and the next, was gone.

Ian went to sit on the sofa. Sara tried unsuccessfully to gauge his mood. The overall feeling that she sensed from him was exhaustion and the ambient light in the room had grown too dim to see his expression. She followed him to the sofa and sat on his lap, snuggling tight against him. His arms automatically enclosed her. "So, what were you and Lazar going on about there at the end?" she asked. Ian shook his head. Sara punched his shoulder. "C'mon, Nottingham," she insisted, "Talk to me. Whatever started in the shower this morning has been bothering you all day. I want to know what it is." He nuzzled his face against her hair and asked, very softly, "If you ever stopped loving me, wanting me, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" Sara snorted, relieved. "Is that all?" she asked, "You've got your knickers in an uproar over that? What brought this on?" He shrugged. "I don't know – a feeling. You didn't answer my question," he replied.

She slid her arms around his neck, filling her hands with his silky hair. Using that grip, she turned his face to hers and kissed him deeply. His response was slow in coming, his tongue moving at a sluggish limp to her darting pounce. In just a moment, though, the passion caught him as it always did. His arms tightened, his lips pressed harder, his tongue grew bolder, and his body strained against hers. When they parted, breathless, his mind was a muddle of more primal needs and his question was forgotten. Sara answered him anyway. "When have you ever known me to hide my feelings?" she asked. Ian struggled to move back to the more rational part of his anatomy. "Never, I guess," he murmured. "Okay," she said, "The answer is yes, I would tell you. But it's a ridiculous question, my darling, because I'll never stop loving you or wanting you. I'm going to be trying to jump your arthritic old bones when you're using a walker and I'm in support hose." That image made him smile. She was glad to see it.

"Right now, we have a much more immediate problem," she said, nibbling at his ear. "What's that?" he asked, breathing hitching. "I'm starving," she replied, now giving that ear a sharp nip. "Ow," he said, "I'm not on the menu." Sheghedghed and asked, "Does the Witchblade know that?" He blushed again. "Yeah," he said, "What was that about? Did you feel that?" Sara smirked. "Nope," she said, "Apparently, that little touch was strictly for you. The gist of your 'conversation' was pretty obvious though. I got the punchline." "And I got the punch," he said, "There was nothing subtle about it." "It certainly got an immediate response," she replied. "I was startled," he said defensively, "It caught me off guard." "Uh huh," she said, now grinning, "Well, you managed to rise to the occasion." He ducked his head, cheeks flaming. "Stop," he pleaded.

After a few moments of silence, Sara asked, "What are we going to have for dinner?" "How about pizza?" he said. She looked at him like he was nuts. "Right. How are we going to get pizza out here in the middle of nowhere?" she askedI maI make it," he whispered, sucking on her ear lobe. She pushed at his chest and the slippery flesh of her ear slipped from his lips. "Stop that and get going," she said, "I want that pizza." "On one condition," he countered. "What is it?" she asked. He started nuzzling her again and said, "I want to sleep with you by the fire again tonight. And this time, you strip for me." She smiled at him slowly and said, "I can do that to get pizza. Do you have some entertainment in store for me?" He nodded, a tiny smile playing at the corners of those sensual lips. "What?" she asked, loving his games. It's a surprise," he replied, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his golden eyes.

"Pizza first," she said, "And maybe some wine while I'm waiting? Do you want me to help?" Ian looked at her askance and snorted in disdain. She nodded. "That's what I thought," she replied, "I'm going to get a glass of red and then punch the bag for a while. Okay?" "Just don't tire yourself out," he said, wiggling his brows like Groucho Marx. She leaned in and kissed him quick and hard. "Well, you've perked right up, haven't you, ace," she said, "Now, go get working on my pizza." "Yes, maam," he replied, easing her off of his lap and heading to the kitchen. "Ian," she called after him. He stopped and turned back to her in the kitchen doorway, resting a hand against the frame and raising an eyebrow quizzically. "In the future, if something's bothering you, please just talk to me," she said, "There's nothing that you can't tell me. There's nothing that I won't understand. Whatever it is, together we can make it better. Okay?" Even from across the room, she could see his eyes darken to that deep amber and fill with love. "Okay," he said softly, "I love you." She smiled at him and said, "I love you too, baby."

While Sara battled her punching bag, she occasionally heard pounding and chopping noises emanating from the kitchen. By the time she was ready for a shower, a wonderful aroma had begun wafting through the cabin. After her shower, Sara went to the bedroom to "dress" for dinner. Since she was going to be Ian's entertainment for the evening ahead, she decided to make things interesting. She dug through her bags to find the sexy Victoria's Secret underwear that she'd packed. She hadn't understood why she'd thrown them in her bag at the time. "Must have had a premonition," she thought, grinning. She covered them with a pair of black leather pants and a tight black sleeveless shirt that bared most of her belly. High black heels completed the ensemble. Sara licked her lips. "Okay, Nottingham," she thought, "Let's see how this grabs you."

Sara stopped in the bedroom doorway, adopting a sexy hip-slung pose just in case he'd finished in the kitchen. Ian was, in fact, now in the main room but what he was doing made her entirely forget her attempted seduction. He was just finishing hooking up a DVD player and VCR to the new television that sat on an end table across from the sofa. "Movies," Sara cried, clapping her hands in excitement. Ian swiveled around to face her on his knees, grinning at her delight. Then, he went absolutely still, his lips parting and his eyes going to that molten, dark amber as they raked her over from top to bottom. His tongue slowly licked his lips as if he wanted a taste. "Wow," he said, his voice low and sexy, "You look really…nice." She shook her head as she crossed the room to him. "Your adjectives need work, ace," she replied, "When do we eat?"

Sara stood over him. He looked up at her, eyes hot and hungry. He ran his hands up the sides of the leather pants. "Eat?" he asked a little dazedly. She covered his warm hands with hers. "Pizza," she said, "Remember?" His eyes suddenly widened and he shot to his feet. "Oh, my god, the pizza," he cried, disappearing into the kitchen. "That pizza better be okay, Nottingham, or you can kiss your strip goodbye," she warned. She heard the oven door open and then heard him sigh. "The pizza is done and it's perfect. You better be as good, detective," he taunted. "Is that a challenge, smart ass?" she asked. "Make of it what you will," he responded, "Come get your pizza."

He was right. The pizza was perfect, maybe the best that she'd ever had. After her third piece, Sara settled back to rest. "You're certainly a man of many talents, Ian Nottingham," she said. "More wine?" he asked. She nodded and he refilled their glasses. "So," she said, "Are you going to make us a nest again?" He nodded. "And what's the movie?" she asked. The devilish twinkle was back in his eyes. "That's the surprise," he said. "Do you want your strip before or after the film?" she asked. "After," he replied. Her eyes narrowed. "You've got this all planned out again, don't you, ace." she said. The rakish smile broadened. "Maybe," he said. He started to gather up their dishes and she said, "Whoa, hang on there, speedy. I want another piece of pizza."

He put the pan back on the table and said, "I wouldn't have thought that there was enough room in those pants to accommodate another slice." "Do you think there's room enough for your hand?" she asked. He licked his lips again. "Is that an invitation?" he asked. "Nah," she said, picking up another slice of pizz"Jus"Just thought that I'd give you something to mull over while I ate." He laughed and started to gather up the rest of the dishes while she finished eating. This time he asked. "Can I wrap up the rest of this pizza now?" She nodded. "Yeah, I'm done," she said. He finished up in the kitchen and they went into the other room together.

Sara posed decoratively on the sofa while Ian recreated their nest and built up the fire for the night. "So, what's the movie?" she asked. Ian didn't answer her. Instead, he turned out the light, put in the DVD, and joined her on the sofa. When he was settled, he started the movie with the remote control. There was silence until Sara said, "Ian, this is a porno flick." He tried to read her face in the firelight, concerned. "Do you want me to change it?" he asked. Sara's mouth dropped open at the intricacy of what had just happened on the screen. "I've never seen one of these," she said, fascinated. "It's supposed to be one of the best in this genre," he , ", "But I've got lots of other kinds of films if you'd rather not watch this. I just thought that it might be fun." Sara ran her hand absently up and down his hard thigh. "Shut up, Ian, and watch what they're doing," she said hoarsely.

He did as she asked, redirecting his attention to the screen. In a few moments, neither one of them were talking, they were just breathing heavily. "My god," Sara said, "I've never seen a man that big." "Good," Ian replied, "But I'm afraid that I suffer by comparison." "Are you nuts?" she asked, "Your body's much better than his. It's beautifully proportioned. His is kind of overblown." Ian smiled. "Thank you, darling," he said. Sara gasped. "Wow, that's hot," she breathed, her hand sliding across Ian's stomach to stroke him through the sweatpants. He caught her hand and guided it inside the pants to his nascent erection. She picked up where she'd left off, her eyes glued to the action on the screen.

Ian had lost interest in what was happening in the film. When Sara was touching him, he didn't really give a damn about a bunch of actors cavorting on a waterbed. He shut his eyes and arched his hips up off the sofa, his breathing ragged. The caresses suddenly stopped and Ian's eyes opened again. "Don't stop," he begged. "Hah," Sara said, ignoring his plea, "So this is why you wanted me to watch this film. Pretty sneaky." A female character had just started to perform an erotic striptease while the male character directed her. Ian hadn't even known that the film contained such a scene because he hadn't watched it before, but he knew that he'd never convince Sara of that now. He squirmed on the sofa, aching for release.

Sara stood and started to mimic the actions of the character in the filan san stared at her transfixed, mouth dry and groin throbbing. The wine must have loosened her up because she wasn't the least bit awkward or self-conscious. In fact, the word that came to his mind was wanton. By the time she got down to her black lace panties, Ian was desperate for her. And Sara had to admit that slowly removing her clothes under his fiery gaze had definitely turned her on. She was more than ready to do what was happening on the screen right now. She glancack ack at the movie for her cue. "On your knees, Nottingham," she growled. Without a word, Ian slid from the sofa and dropped to his knees in front of her. "Pleasure me," she ordered, grabbing a handful of his thick hair and giving it a little tug.

With shaking hands, Ian slid the filmy panties down her legs and moved his face between her thighs to do as she asked. Sara's shriek of pleasure when she came sounded a lot more authentic than the echo from the screen. A moment later, she slid to her knees and into his arms. That's when she rel`zed that he was still dressed. "Off," she said, pushing her hands none too gently up under his sweatshirt. Ian yanked it over his head and tossed it to the chair. Outer and under pants quickly followed the shirt. "Better," Sara purred, studying his long sculpted body in the firelight. "Twice as good as anything in the stupid movie," she thought. Checking the screen again, she saw that the heroine was practically inhaling her chauffeur's huge phallus. "Lordy, she must have had a tonsillectomy," Sara thought, "If she hasn't, that could do it." Looking over, she saw that Ian was mesmerized by the action, golden eyes huge and lips parted.

Sara leaned over and engulfed him in her mouth. His startled gasp, immediately followed by a throaty moan, told her that she'd taken him by surprise. Steadying himself with one hand braced on the floor, he tangled his other hand in her hair. Ian shut his eyes and threw back his head, completely giving himself over to heara ara kept one eye on the screen, learning some new tricks and putting them right into practice. Finally, he said, "Sara, stop. I can't hold back any longer." When she raised her head, Ian pulled her into his arms to kiss her a little frantically. His whole body was quivering like a violin string that had been plucked by an expert.
the they broke the kiss, some movement on the TV grabbed her. "My god, Ian," she said, "They're doing it on a ladder." Catching the look in her eye, Ian said, "No, not a chance." "It really looks…interesting," she said, finally finding a word, "He's going so deep," she added in awe. "It looks dangerous to me," Ian said, his breathing finally returning to normal, "Besides, I have no idea where the ladder is." "You have a ladder here?" she asked. "Sara, I'm not going to make love to you on a ladder," he saihe she started to play with the hair on his chest and asked, "How are you going to make love to me then?" He glanced pointedly at the screen. Two women were now avidly working on the chauffeur. She snorted, "Forget it, buster." His lips curved in a wicked smile. "We could call Vicki," he said, "She could be here in a few hours." "Then she could do what she does best," Sara replied, "Because it would be over your dead body, Nottingham." He shrugged, still smiling. "Just a thought," he said. "Yeah, well, you just keep thinking, Butch. That's what you're good at," she replied.

"That's not all I'm good at," Ian said suggestively, the movie forgotten. Their eyes met and held. "No, it isn't," Sara agreed, moving back into his waiting arms. She sat on his lap, wrapping her legs around his hips. Ian shut his eyes and groaned as her weight settled on his aching erection. She leaned forward to run her tongue slow across his full lower lip and he started to pant softly. Squirming a bit on the pulsing hardness beneath her, Sara asked, "This is kind of in the way, don't you think? Maybe I should tuck it away somewhere safe?" He opened his eyes to fall helplessly into the bottomless green pools staring back at him. "Absolutely," he replied softly, biting his lip and stifling a moan as she shifted her body against him again, "Put it to good use." "I intend to," she told him as she lifted herself up slightly and reached down to guide him inside her.

He ran strong, warm hands down her back to settle on her bottom. He pulled her hard against him, pushing himself into her more deeply. Now, Sara moaned, clutching her muscles tightly around him as she rocked her body with his. She ran her tongue around his molded lips, which parted for her. Shutting her eyes to focus on the sensations, Sara whispered against his mouth, "God, you feel so good." He shifted a little and the friction intensified. Her eyes opened again and she stared into warm, molten amber. They smiled at each other, mutually amazed that this act could keep getting better. He shifted again and suddenly touched a spot that sent her nerve endings through the roof. She threw back her head and cried out his name. When she recovered her breath, she dropped her head back down to meet his twinkling eyes and asked, wheezing, "What did you just do?" He just grinned and lifted his shoulder a little. "Want me to do it again?" he asked. "Oh, yeah," she whispered, wondering if he could. He could and did.

This time, they kept going a long time, easing off when a climax starting building, only to start slowly back up that path again. Finally, Sara whispered in his ear, "I'm pretty much done in, baby. I don't think I have the stamina to keep this going much longer. I'll work on it though and do better next time." He turned his head to kiss her. "You're doing just fine," he whispered back, "You do much better and you're likely to kill me." She laughed, deep and throaty. Filling her fingers with his curls, now damp from their exertions, she brought his face to hers and kissed him deeply.

She pulled back, looking into his beautiful golden eyes. "Hey, Nottingham," she said softly. "Hey, Sara," he responded, smiling. "Take me home," she told him. He moved subtly within her and she started spiraling uncontrollably back into that well of heady sensations. This time, though, he didn't stop – he kept pushing until she thought the world might explode. Then it did and they both came, drenched in sweat and clutching each other for dear life. When he was able, Ian eased her down on to the featherbed and pulled the fleece throw around them.

Sara stretched her cramped limbs out to settle against his long, hard body. She sighed softly and asked, "Who needs a ladder when I have you? But I do want to rewind to that part tomorrow and watch it again." He stretched a little to grab the remote control and turn off the TV and CD player. She felt him settle more comfortably against her. "Watch all you want," umblumbled, "You're not getting me naked on a ladder." She slid a hand languidly down his hip. "I'm willing to leave you partially clothed if that's the problem," she teased him, yawning, "You could wear one sock. How's that?" The absurd image made him laugh. "Where did you want me to wear it?" he murmured, already half asleep.

Sara woke in the middle of the night sensing that something was wrong. She immediately reached beside her for Ian. He was gone but the place where he'd been was still warm. The room was getting cold though, the fire having burned down to smoldering embers. Sara stood and wrapped the throw around her. She padded barefoot to the kitchen, wincing when her feet touched the freezing wood of the floor. He wasn't there. That left the bedroom, the bathroom, or outside. She checked the bedroom next. It was empty. The bathroom door was shut but that was normal. They usually left it shut. She pressed her ear against the door but could hear no sound within. She carefully tried the knob. It didn't appear to be locked.

"Okay," she thought, "If he's sitting there attending to business, the worst that I'll do is embarrass us both." The strong unease that she'd felt upon waking washed over her again. That made her decision. Sara turned the knob and opened the door. The light was off but there was enough moonlight coming in the window to see that Ian was sitting on the floor. He was still naked. His knees were pulled up tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His head was down on his bent knees, his face obscured by his long, loose hair. He wasn't making a sound that she could hear and he hadn't moved to acknowledge her presence. "What the hell is this?" she thought. She moved a step closer and saw that he was shivering.

"Ian?" she said, dropping down beside him. Instead of looking at her, he turned his face away. "Do you need to get in here?" he asked, voice muffled, "Just give me a minute and I'll get out." She put her hand on his bare, shaking shoulder. He was cold. "What the hell are you doing sitting naked on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night?" she asked. Just before he dropped his head again, the moonlight hit his face for an instant and she saw that he'd been crying. He started to rise, still turned away from her but she pressed against his shoulder, exerting pressure to hold him in place. Sara shifted a little so that she could pull him against her under the throw. His skin was icy and when his body touched hers, she shivered too.

She put her arms around him and pulled his head down to her shoulder. Her suspicions were confirmed when she felt his wet cheek against her skin. He didn't melt into her the way that he usually did. He was stiff and awkward in her embrace, as if he was trying to hold himself apart from her without being obvious about it. Something was definitely wrong here. He was acting very strange – even for Ian. "Okay, maybe if I can get him talking," she thought. "Did you have a nightmare?" she asked him. She thought that he shook his head. "Was that a 'No'?" she asked. He cleared his throat. "No," he said, his voice barely audible. Sara sighed, frustrated. "Are we going to play twenty questions?" she asked a little crossly, "Or are you going to tell me what's wrong."

"Can we go back into the other room?" he asked, "I'm cold." She pushed back his hair, but he kept his face averted. "Well then why the hell are you sitting in here naked on the tile?" she asked. "I didn't want to wake you," he said softly, still not looking at her. She decided to let that go and answer his request. "Sure, we can go back to the other room," she said, "Why don't you build the fire back up while I make us some tea? Then, you can tell me what's going on with you." "I'd rather just go back to sleep," he responded, so quiet she could barely hear him, "I'm alright now." "Not a chance, ace," she said firmly, "When I find you sitting on the bathroom floor crying at three-thirty in the morning, you're going to tell me why. Nobody's going back to sleep until that happens."

Ian slipped out from under the throw and went back to the living room. He moved directly to the chair to get his sweatpants. He pulled them back on and knelt by the fireplace to add more logs to the dying fire. All of this with his face turned away and in silence. She followed him, pulling the throw more tightly around hgaingainst the chill. Sara made a quick stop in the bedroom to grab her robe and put socks on her feet before she continued to the kitchen to make their tea. On the way, she tossed the throw back on to the sofa. She sat at the kitchen table while she waited for the water to boil, her mind roiling with questions. He'd been just fine a few hours ago, she thought, kidding with her about ladder gymnastics, now he was practically catatonic.

When she carried their mugs of tea back into the other room, she found him huddled in a corner of the sofa, wrapped in the throw. His face was turned toward the fire and he seemed engrossed in the dancing flames. She offered him the mug but he didn't respond and when she said his name, he jumped, startled. Ian took the mug from her, holding it in both of his hands to warm them. He still hadn't looked at her. He took a big gulp of tea and shut his eyes. He was still shivering a little. "Can I get under there with you?" she asked, indicating the throw. He shrugged and opened his arm a little, glancing up at her once, quickly, before turning his face back toward the fire.

Sara frowned as she sat beside him on the sofa. She deliberately cuddled up tight against his suddenly unyielding body, forcing him to open his arm wider to accommodate her. At least he'ttintting warmer, she thought, leaning her head against his bare shoulder. His skin had lost that clammy chill it had in the bathroom. She took a deep breath and dove in. "Okay, Ian," she said, "You already said that it wasn't a nightmare. So, what happened to turn you into this cheery delight at four o'clock in the morning?" "I'm sorry that I've annoyed you," he began, still speaking so softly that she could barely hear him, "I tried not to wake you…" "Stop," she said, holding up a hand and interrupting him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the defensive. I'm not annoyed. I'm concerned. Just tell me what happened to you, baby."

He made a little noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He still wouldn't look at her so she couldn't confirm that suspicion. She slid her arm tighter around him and pulled him closer. "I can see that this is really hurting you," Sara said, her voice gentle, "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what it is." "I had a vision," he said. She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she thought, "He's going to make me pry every bit of this out of him." She stifled a sigh and asked, "You were already awake?" She saw an almost imperceptible nod. "I woke up cold," he said, "And saw that the fire was almost out. I was getting up to build the fire back up when it hit me."

"Was it about my dream?" she asked, dreading his answer. "Your dream?" he said, finally turning to her, looking confused. Then, the reference seemed to click and he added, "No. I don't think so – at least, not directly." She saw that she'd been right. Tears were rolling slowly down his cheeks. She didn't think that he was even aware of them. She reached out a hand to touch his wet cheek and he quickly turned away. She felt herself losing patience again and fought to rein it in. She knew if he sensed that from her, he'd just retreat further. She was getting ready to gently prod him when he suddenly said, "You left me." The agony in his voice was so visceral that she winced.

Sara blinked. She cut off her immediate reaction of "This again?" Whatever this was – vision, delusion, or paranoia – it was ripping him to pieces and it had to be addressed. Just telling him that he was nuts and that she wasn't going to leave him simply wouldn't work this time. It would be like trying to putandaandaid on an amputation. She decided to try a different tack. "Do you often have visions?" she asked, "Aren't they usually linked to the Witchblade?" His shoulder lifted a fraction. "Not often and not always from the Witchblade," he replied, "Some come from my ring I think." "Well," she said logically, trying to pull him back a bit from the strong emotions, "When the Witchblade sends me a vision there's usually a reason for it. What was the purpose in showing you this?"

He dropped his head to rest on the back of the sofa, face still turned away from her. "To warn me or prepare me, maybe. I don't know," he said, his voice tired. "So that you could do what?" she asked, "Stop me?" "No," he said, pain in every word, "It was too late for that. You were already gone. You were finished with me. It was over." She felt a little twist in her own gut now and she realized that she was starting to take this seriously too. "Why did I leave?" she asked. There was a long silence and she thought that he wasn't going to answer. Then, he turned back to look at her and said, "I don't know. You were gone and I didn't know the reason. I don't – didn't – know what I'd done wrong. You just left me – without telling me why, without giving me a chance to explain or change."

She wanted to wipe away the tears, to hold him and pet him and tell him that everything would be all right, but she didn't think that he'd let her do that right now. Something else occurred to her. "Was the Convergence over?" she asked. He frowned, obviously not understanding why it mattered. "I don't know," he said. "It must have been," she continued, "I wouldn't leave before and we need to be together to make it work. That would mean that we both survived it and saved the world. That's good." He turned away again and mumbled, "If this is my future, I'd rather have died fighting with honor." She decided to let that go to point out, "On the other hand, maybe the whole vision is a crock of shit and someone is playing you."

His head swung back sharply. She had his full attention now. "What do you mean?" he asked. She reached out to push his his hair and then to brush away the tears still on his cheeks. He caught her hand and held it. "Sara?" he said. She stroked his hand with one finger while she spoke ry ary and calm him a little. "Remember Lazar said that we could expect different kinds of attacks from different directions. Back at the loft, X popped in a couple of times and tried to make me jealous. We figured that the point of that was to create dissension between us and to keep us off balance. It was a good ploy because losing people that I love is one of my hot spots." He was watching her intently, desperate for an alternative to the future that his vision had given him.

"Nobody has bothered us since we came to the cabin," she continued, "What if this 'vision' of yours is just a new form of attack and it wasn't sent to you by your ring or whatever, but by your old boss' bitch?" He narrowed his eyes and asked, "You're suggesting that X might have planted the vision in my head?" She shrugged. "Why not? Irons knows we're together. Being the manipulator that he is, he also knows how you'd react to this kind of vision. He'd know just how much it would bother you. Maybe it would even distract you enough that you become less dangerous to our enemies. Right?" He shut his eyes and said softly, "God, Sara, I want to believe that. I couldn't live if I lost you now. Just the thought of it hurts so much that I'd do anything to stop the pain."

Thinking that he might accept her touch now, Sara tentatively reached out to pull him into her arms. He was ready and willing. He clung to her like a drowning man gripping a life preserver. She held him tight and stroked his hair. "I know that I can tell you I won't leave you until I'm blue in the face, Ian," she whispered against his neck, "I also know that they're just words. I don't know how to take this fear away from you." "I know," he said, voice muffled against her chest, "I know that I'm too dependent on you, that I love you too much. Maybe that will change over time – if we have it – I don't know. I just know that I don't want to live without you now." She felt a chill run though her. "You mean that literally, don't you," she said, appalled. There was a long pause before he softly replied, "Yes. I mean it literally."

She pulled back a little and raised his chin with her hand to look into his eyes.hat\hat's a hell of a responsibility to put on me," she said, "I don't want to hold your life in my hands, Ian." He pulled back now too and looked directly into her eyes, not making any excuses for the way that he felt. "I'm sorry," he replied. "That's it?" she asked. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm saying this badly," he said, frustrated by his inability to make her understand, "I'm not trying to blackmail you into staying me. me. I know that you're not responsible for me, for my feelings or actions. You told me I could say anything to you and that you would understand, but I guess there are things that I should keep to myself. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Well," she thought, "That certainly backfired. He's right. I did tell him to talk to me, that he could tell me anything. God, this relationship business is hard." She was silent for a moment, thinking, then she said aloud, "No, my bad, baby. You're absolutely right. I did say that to you last night, and I certainly meant it at the time. I still mean it. I don't want you to hold things back from me – especially when they're eating you up the way this is. I'm sorry." She studied his face. He looked exhausted, like he'd just been pulled through an emotional wringer – which, of course, he had. She reached out to gently stroke his cheek. He shut his eyes and leaned into her hand. "If this is a new game that the enemy is playing with us," she said, "It's a damn effective one."

To satisfy her curiosity, she had to ask, "In the vision, how did you know that I'd left you if I was already gone? I could have gone away for lots of other reasons." He dropped his head, his face hidden by waves of hair. "I knew because of the way that I felt. You didn't want me any more," he said, voice tight, "And, you gave back your ring. You'd left it for me." She pulled his rigid body close again. She pushed back his hair, feeling fresh tears when her hand brushed his cheek. She tried a smile. "That alone should tell you that the vision was wrong," she said, trying to ease his pain, "You'd have to cut off my finger to get this ring away from me." Ian just made a little sound against her neck.

She kneaded the tight muscles of his back slowly and felt him loosen up a tiny bit. His arms were around her again, his head resting on her shoulder. "Want some more tea?" she asked. "No thanks," he murmured. "Do you think you could go bao slo sleep now?" she asked. "Yeah," he said softly, "I'm sorry to be such a baby. I'm sorry I bothered you. I just can't…," He stopped quickly, his voice starting to choke up again. "Shhh," she said soothingly, running one hand up into his hair to rub the back of his head. He tightened his arms around her. "I love you so much," he whispered desperately. "I know, baby, I know," Sara whispered back, "Please don't get yourself all worked up again. Try to let it go tonight. I promise you that I'll be here in your arms in the morning. We can talk more then because we're going to have to find a way to come to terms with this. It's hurting you too much and it makes us too vulnerable to our enemies. Okay?" "Okay," he answered softly.

Sara gentlsed sed away from him and dropped back down to the featherbed. She looked up at him, alone and miserable now on the sofa, and held out her arms. Ian came into her waiting arms, bringing throw row with him. Wanting to feel all of him against her, she arched back to pull off her robe and toss it to the chair. "Do you need those pants?" she asked. He shook his head and pulled off the sweatpants, throwing them on the chair with her robe. She stretched out and wrapped him in her arms, tight against her, tucking the throw snug around them both. "Do you feel any better?" she asked, "Are you going to be able to sleep?" "This isn't going to get better, Sara, until I know where that vision came from – and that may not be possible," he replied, "But, yeah, I think I can sleep now. I did warn you that I was no bargain." "I know you did, honey," she agreed, "And I still think that the good far outweighs the bad in being with you."

He nestled himself close against her, a ragged sigh escaping his lips. She kept petting him until she heard his breathing even and slow into an exhausted sleep; only then did she allow herself to nod off too. When she woke, full sunlight was streaming into the cabin. Ian was still asleep, molded against her side. Even asleep, he looked worn out. There were large, dark circles under his eyes and the few lines on his face seemed more pronounced. As she watched him, she saw his eyes moved rapidly beneath their lids and a soft, agonized moan rose from his throat. She enfolded him closer in her embrace and stroked his back until she felt his tense muscles relax and heard his breathing even out again. "I want to let him sleep as long as he can," she thought, "He's so stressed out. God, I hope he's able to handle this better in the morning light. That fatalism of his is frightening."

When she was fairly certain that Ian had slipped back into more restful sleep, Sara very carefully extricated herself from him and left their nest. She made herself a pot of coffee, trying to be as quiet as possible. As she got the bread out of the refrigerator to make toast, she realized that they'd soon have to replenish key items in their food supply. "We can do that today after our training," she thought, "That will keep his mind occupied for a while. Maybe we can even go out to dinner when we're done. I 't w't want him to have time on his hands to start brooding about the damn vision." By the time she'd finished her toast, Sara heard Ian running water in the bathroom. She put the kettle on to boil so that he could have his tea. A few minutes later, he came into the kitchen, once again dressed in sweats.

As he passed her to turn off the steaming kettle, he leaned down to brush a sweet kiss against her lips. Sara smiled and thought, "That's better," even if he does look like hell. "Want some toast?" she asked, "I saved the last two pieces of bread for you." He shook his head and said, "Not hungry, thanks." He made his tea and sat down across from her. "Are we running low on food?" he asked. "Yeah," she replied, running her finger along his hand where it rested beside his mug, "Bread, milk, lettuce, fruit, some other stuff. So, I guess I get to see 'town' today, huh?" He shrugged. "If you want to come with me," he said, "There's not much to see. It's more of a general store than a supermarket. You can drive from one side of town to the other before you can blink."

"Oh," she said, disappointed, "I thought maybe we could go out for dinner after we finished the food shopping. I guess that's out." His fingers linked with hers while he sipped his tea and thought about that. "Not necessarily," he said, "I think there's some kind of lodge or inn over by the highway entrance. I'm sure that they've got a restaurant. I don't know how good it is though." "I don't care," she said, "I'm getting cabin fever." Then, she snorted a throaty laugh, realizing what she'd said. "It'll do us good to get away from all this dond gnd gloom crap for an evening," she continued, "What do you say, Nottingham? Be my date?" "Always," he responded, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

She decided that she couldn't postpone the question any longer. "Are you okay?" she asked. Ian let go of her hand and dropped his head. "No," he said, "I'm just not thinking about it because I'm afraid that I'll lose it again. That vision was too real, Sara." "So we'll see what Lazar thinks when he gets here," she said. His head came up and color flooded his cheeks. "Do we have to tell him about what I did last night?" he asked. "Not the details," she replied, "Just that you were upset, but he'll know that anyway as soon as he gets within five feet of you." "Why?" he asked. "Because you're broadcasting distress like a beacon, baby," she said, "I could feel it as soon as we started talking about this again." He dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry," he said, voice muffled, "I've really tried to let it go. I can't."

Sara didn't know what to do for him. How do you take away the fear of something that hasn't happened? She could tell that he was in pain and she didn't know how to make it better. That was tying her in knots too. She got up and went to him, forcing him to sit up so that she could climb onto his lap. She put her arms around him and he responded by pulling her close against his body. She leaned down to kiss him and this time his response was to passionately press his lips hard against hers and force his tongue into her startled mouth. Sara kissed him back until they were both gasping for breath. Filling her fingers with his hair, she dragged back his head to look in his eyes. "What's going on?" she asked, panting.

Wide, glazed golden eyes met troubled green eyes. "Teach me how to please you," he begged breathlessly, "Teach me how to make you want me." Sara cursed, pushing out of his arms and distancing herself from him across the small kitchen. She stood still with her back to him, trying to regain her temper. She didn't succeed. She turned back to face him, glaring. "Damn it, Ian," she exploded, "Do you think that I've been lying to you? I've told you I love you. I do want you. I'm wearing your ring. What more do I have to do to convince you? Why won't you believe me? I'll tell you something though. You keep up this crap and you will push me away from you." She watched as he flinched back from her anger, his eyes filling with tears before he dropped his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Yeah," she agreed, "Right now, you certainly are." She stomped off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Ian cradled his head in his arms on the kitchen table, not moving for a long time. The sounds of Sara taking a shower carried to where he was hunched over but he still didn't move. Finally, he raised his head with a long sigh to encer Ler Lazar staring at him from across the table. Ian jumped and let out an explosive gasp. After his hammering heart had begun to return to its normal rhythm, Ian said, "I didn't hear you arrive, Sir." "It is a good thing that I was not an agent of the enemy, isn't it, Protector," Lazar replied, "Since you were too lost in your own misery and self-pity to be aware of my presence."

Ian ran a shaking hand through his hair, unable to meet Lazar's eyes. "Sara's angry," he said quietly, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so afraid that I'll lose her and, if I don't stop acting this way, I could make her leave me all by myself. Please help me." "Part of the fault for this lies with me," Lazar said, "I should have tried harder to find a way to get you away from Kenneth when you were still a child. Although the Witchblade saw fit to heal you in many ways, you have been severely damaged emotionally and I do not know whether you can find your way past that damage or not. If you can, it is a trail that you must blaze yourself. Neither Sara nor I can show you the way." Ian shook his head, looking lost and confused. Lazar studied him, eyes filled with pity, "It may not be possible, Ian," he said, "Perhaps there is just too much self-loathing and too many insecurities for you to overcome. Perhaps this love that you share with the Wielder was doomed to fail from the beginning. Perhaps there is just too much past to allow there to be a future."

Ian's hands balled into fists on the table. "No," he said, determination in his voice, "I'll do whatever I have to do to make it work. I'm not going to lose Sara now that I finally have her." Lazar inclined his head. "Then that is where you need to put your focus, is it not?" he asked, "One thing more. Doesn't the Wielder deserve a mate that matches her strength and independence with his own?" Ian nodded. "Yes, she does," he agreed. "Then begin to build a life for yourself that is independent of the Wielder," Lazar said, "Do not put the responsibility for your life in Sara's hands. Guide it with your own hands. Accept that life can go on even when you believe that you have lost everything that makes it worth living. There are always surprises."

Ian's mouth set. Life without Sara was still something that he was unwilling to face. Lazar just nodded. "Change takes time," he said, "For now, take the first steps on a different path and be open to what you find there. Is that acceptable, Protector?" Ian met the Watcher's eyes directly. "Yes," he replied, "That's acceptable." "Good," Lazar said, "You had best go now and mend your relationship with the Wielder. There's still time. We can work with the crystals tomorrow. Good luck." Ian blinked and Lazar was gone. He heard Sara come out of the bathroom and head into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Ian winced. This wasn't going to be easy.

He poured a mug of coffee for her as a peace offering and went to the bedroom. Sara was sitting on the bed, dressed in sweats and tying the laces of her running shoes. She didn't look up when he stood in the doorway. "I brought you more coffee," he said. "Is that supposed to make everything all right?" she mumbled, head down. "No, of course not," he replied, "It's not supposed to do anything but give you more coffee to drink. I'll leave it here on the table." She glanced up at him quickly, a bit taken aback by this sudden change in his demeanor. He put the mug on the bedside table and turned to go, saying, "Lazar was here but he's gone again. He gave us the day off. I guess he didn't think that either of us were in the mood to sit quietly and meditate."

She snorted. "Good," she said, "I'll punch the bag for a while." His lips twisted up in a tiny smile. "Would you rather knock me around a little?" he asked, "I'll give you the first punch for free." "Don't tempt me, Nottingham," she replied, "You're really high on my shit list right now. I get you with the gauntlet, you could be out for a couple of days." "That's okay," he said, "You deserve the peace and quiet." She narrowed her eyes. "Okay," she said, "What's brought about this new attitude? Where did whiny Ian go?" Nowe sme smile got a bit wider and very sheepish. "Lazar sat me down and talked to me about getting my own life rather than living for you. I buried whiny Ian under a pile of new purpose and good intentions."

"Whiny Ian deserved to be buried under a pile of something," she said, "I'm glad he's gone. Is this new Ian still a good kisser?" She patted the bed next to her and Ian came back and sat down. "Try him," he said, voice husky. He lowered her down to the bed and moved above her, sliding his leg between hers. Sara slipped her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his hair. He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers. His tongue slowly insinuated way way between her parted lips to tangle and play with hers. She felt his warm hand slip up under her shirt to caress her bare back. He finally pulled back, a little breathless, and said, "I'm sorry that I was such a pain in the ass." She gave a little laugh and reached up to push back the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead, "Apology accepted," she said, "Now kiss me again." He did.

Half an hour later, Sara was working out with her punching bag while Ian did his katas. They finished around the same time. Ian went in to take a shower while Sara sat at the kitchen table writing out a shopping list for their foray into town. By the time he went into the bedroom to dress, Sara had finished the list and she headed to the bathroom to take another shower, sweaty from her workout. When Ian raised an eyebrow as she passed the bedroom, she said, "All I did in there the first time anyway was stand under the cold water and call you everything but a child of God." That made him laugh.

Ian had put on jeans and a crisp white shirt over a black tee. He topped it off with his brown leather bomber jacket. His hair was pulled back. She thought he looked hot and wondered whether she should change the clean sweats that she'd put on for something nicer. She asked him about changing, dressing for dinner. He smiled. "You're fine," he said, "Nothing around here requires dressing for dinner. You look beautiful." She snorted. "You always say that," she said. "Sure," he replied, "Because it's true." As she got in the passenger seat of the jeep, she watched him put a large, insulated carrier in the trunk. "What's that for," she asked. "Our groceries," he said, moving into the driver's seat, "They'll stay cold and we won't having to worry about anything spoiling while we're getting dinner. We can take our time." She shook her head. "That mind of yours never stops, does it?" she asked, "How long will the food stay cold?" He shrugged. "Probably until tomorrow afternoon," he responded, "But we'll have it out of there and into the refrigerator long before that."

"Ready?" he asked, starting the ignition. "Yup," Sara said, "Let's partake of life in the big city." Ian smiled, amused. "I'm afraid you're in for a disappointment, love," he said, "The hot locale in this big city is the Feed and Grain." Sara decided that she'd reserve her judgment until she saw for herself. As they got their groceries in the eclectic general store, Sara tried not to seem too out of place. For a dyed in the wool city girl used to specialty stores, the little emporium was a mystery. Not just grocery staples, but bolts of fabric, hardware, and other weird stuff the purpose of which she couldn't begin to determine. Ian looked right at home. That was a knack that she had discovered in him. He adapted very quickly to any environment in which he found himself. She supposed it had come from having been thrown into so many different situations during his life with Irons. She just trailed along behind him, holding things and feeling generally useless.

She did have a few moments of pure joy though. There was a whole section of what used to be called "penny candy." The cheapest item now was a nickel, but it was filled with treats that she remembered from her childhood and she was thrilled. Ian, of course, had never sampled a root beer keg, a little wax bottle filled with sugary fluid, or a long strip of paper spangled with colored candy dots. He had no idea why she was suddenly so excited but he enjoyed her mood nonetheless. She got a big bag of assorted candies to introduce him to that evening.

They loaded up the insulated bag in the trunk of the car with all the perishables that they'd purchased and got back onto the country roads that eventually led out toward the highway. As they were passing a tiny strip mall at the edge of another nondescript little town, Ian suddenly pulled in and said, "I need to call Hector to find out how things are working out for him with Dr. Marx. If all's going well, he'll probably be joining us at the cabin next week." Sara's eyebrow lifted. "And won't that be fun," she said. Ian's lips twitched. "You came up with the idea of finding someone to wield the Lance, remember?" he asked. "How could I forget," she said, "I do hope that he's in a pleasanter frame of mind than the last time that I met him." "That was my fault, not his," Ian replied. "No," Sara said, "If you get right down to it, it was Irons' fault – just like most of the crap that's gone on since we met." Ian didn't have an answer to that.

"There's an antique store over there," Ian said, "I thought that you might like to look around while I'm on the phone." Sara glanced over at the antique store sitting incongruously in the middle of the strip mall and shrugged. "It's up to you," he said, "I shouldn't be too long." Ian got out of the car and went to the pay phone. He dialed a number from memory and was soon engrossed in conversation. Sara sat watching him for a couple of minutes and then decided to give the antique store a look. Inside, it was dim and murky in the late afternoon light. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the store, not even a salesperson.

Sara wandered around, finding nothing that caught her interest, until she came upon a display case filled with antique jewelry. Right in the center of the display was a man's ring of what looked like heavy silver. It was a plain band with the same infinity symbol as the band of her engagement ring carved into it. Right in the center where the two lines crossed there was a blood-red stone. She wondered how much it was and whether it would fit Ian. He'd given her so many presents and all she'd given him was a key to the loft. "It can't hurt to find out how much it is," she thought. Aloud, she called out, "Hello? Anybody here?"

She heard shuffling and an old lady emerged from a pair of curtains at the back of the shop. "Well, hello yourself," the old woman said, "What can I do for you?" Sara cleared her throat, willing Ian to talk a little longer. "I'd like to know the price of this man's ring with the red stone," she said. The proprietor slowly walked over to the display case to see where Sara was pointing. "Ah," she said, "You have a good eye. That's a nice piece. Very old and of fine workmanship but with a rather obscure origin, I'm afraid." Sara smiled. "I don't really care much about its history," Sara replied, "I just like the look of it."

The woman's eyes suddenly narrowed and she said, "That's a lovely bracelet you have there," indicating the Witchblade with a tilt of her head. Sara instinctively covered her right wrist with her other hand. "Yeah, thanks," she said, "How much for the ring?" "I'd be glad to trade you for your bracelet," the woman said. Sara laughed and said, "Sorry. No deal. I just need a price for the ring." The woman sighed and said, "Business isn't what it used to be. I can let you have it for $150.00." "Make it $100 and, if you take credit cards, you've got a deal." The old woman pursed her lips. "$125.00," she said, "And we take all major cards." "Done," Sara said, getting out her Visa card, "If it doesn't fit him, can I return it?" The shop door opened and they both looked up. As Ian came toward them, the old woman glanced at his hands. "It will fit," she said, sliding the ring into a velvet pouch and slipping it into Sara's hand.

Ian came to her side, taking her hand and asking, "What did you buy?" "Oh," Sara replied, "Just a pair of earrings that took my fancy. Did you talk to Mobius?" He nodded. "I'll tell you about it over dinner," he said. When the old woman handed Sara the credit slip to sign, she said, "Good choice." Sara wasn't sure whether she meant the ring or Ian, but she said, "Thanks," anyway. They said their goodbyes and left the little shop, Sara sliding the velvet pouch into her jacket pocket. "Tonight's going to be fun," she thought, "I get to introduce him to penny candy and give him the ring."

Since it was approaching the dinner hour, Ian drove toward the highway entrance and the motel he thought he'd seen. It turned out to be the local franchise of a large chain. The restaurant was nothing special. It was actually some tables and chairs crammed into the same room as a long bar and tiny empty bandstand. The hotel bar appeared to be the primary source of entertainment for the locals and, at early evening, was already crammed with some decidedly boorish specimens. The single frazzled waitress took their order from the limited menu. The food turned out to be edible but certainly not inspired.

As they ate, Ian brought her up to speed on the progress of their Lance Wielder. Having had the opportunity to work with two Black Dragons consecutively, Dr. Marx had made amazing progress in identifying and finding ways to counteract their conditioning. Mobius had successfully applied the generic block Marx had developed and would be joining them at the cabin by the end of the following week. Sara pouted. "No more nesting," she said. Ian smiled and captured her hand. "We can nest in the bedroom. It has a door that shuts," he said. "No more noisy lovemaking,he ohe opined. He stroked her hand. "Then I guess we'll have to channel the energy that it takes to make all that noise into other activities," he said with a wicked grin. "You've got an answer for everything, don't you, Nottingham," she said. The grin faltered and disappeared. "No, not everything," he replied.

All through their dinner, four or five of the beefier patrons had been lasciviously eying Sara from their position at the end of the bar. Ian and Sara, completely absorbed in each other, were oblivious to the attention. The group suddenly got louder as some kind of bet was apparently argued and made. The noise finally drew Ian's and Sara's attention and they both looked across the room to see the largest Neanderthal of the group approaching their table. Sara glanced at Ian. A deadly gleam appeared in his eyes and his lips curved up in anticipation. "Ian," she warned. He turned back to her and lifted one elegant brow. The man stopped at their table and looked directly at Sara, ignoring Ian completely. "My buddies and me made a bet," he said to her, "We bet that you'd smell and feel as good as you look. I'm going to find out by taking you for a spin on the dance floor." The jukebox suddenly erupted with some mournful country tune.

Sara reached out to cover Ian's hand with hers. So far, he hadn't moved a muscle but she could feel the almost gleeful impulse for destruction emanating from him. "I don't think so," she said to the oaf, "Why don't you just go back to your friends and tell them that I can't dance? Save yourself a world of pain." "Not a chance, honey," the man said. She felt a muscle jump in Ian's hand and knew that was it. She looked directly at Ian and said, "Don't kill anyone, baby. You're going to have to be willing to put up a lot of cash to pay for any breakage if we want to get out of this without the local cops. Okay?" Ian gave her a tiny nod, accepting her terms. "This release will probably be good for him," she thought, "It'll give him a chance to work off some of the stress that he's been under."

As she finished that thought, her would-be Lothario dropped to the floor unconscious. Ian was still sitting after shifting slightly to deliver a quick, stunning blow to the other man's solar plexus. He'd moved so fast that she hadn't even seen it happen. There was sudden silence from the bar where everyone had been watching the scenario unfold, followed by the renewed hum of conversation. "Here they come," she said. Then thought, "Like he needs me to tell him that." Ian rose smoothly and calmly waited for the first two men to reach him. He took them down simultaneously, using his foot to bring one to the floor and then knock him out with a quick, controlled kick to the head; taking the other down with a stiff hand to the throat. Ian finished those motions with a gful ful pivot that brought him around to face the other three men in the group.

So far, he hadn't broken one piece of furniture. That, of course, couldn't continue. The room was too small and too crowded. Ian dropped to give the man coming at him head on some sort of fancy punch to the chest that apparently interrupted several nerve connections. The man dropped to the floor like an empty sack, twitching. Above him, the punch that the man to his left had been aiming at Ian instead hit the man that was coming at Ian from the right. It was a roundhouse to the chin and knocked the recipient into a table of diners who scattered like a flock of frightened sheep. The single man still upright stared into feral golden eyes as Ian straightened back up. Not a hair had come loose. Ian grinned, enjoying himself.

Sara watched the last man's eyes shift frantically around the room as he tried to figure out how he could run and still save face. Ian was using great restraint, Sara thought, allowing the fool to make his choice. The man glanced at the waitress, who smirked at him knowingly, and that must have pushed him into action. He'd barely started moving before Ian's hand shot out to quickly pinch the side of his neck. The man slid to the floor unconscious. Ian turned his head toward Sara and asked, "Did you want dessert?" Sara snorted, letting her eyes rake over him from top to bottom. "Oh, yeah," she replied, "But not here."

The hum of muted conversation swirled around them as Ian left a generous tip for the waitress and they made their way to the bar. When they reached the bar, Ian asked the man behind it, "Did you call the police?" The bartender shook his head, eyes wide. Ian said, "Good. We'd rather not spend the night in the local police station explaining this. Will this take care of the damages?" He laid several hundred dollars on the bar. The bartender nodded, still goggling. Ian turned to Sara and asked, "Satisfactory?" Sara nodded and said, "You're cool, ace. Let's get going while the going is good." They were a good mile away from the motel before they heard the first sirens.

As they drove back to the cabin over country roads in pitch darkness, Sara said, "Well, that was interesting. So much for a nice, relaxing dinner out." She saw the flash of Ian's white teeth in the darkness. "I warned you that it wasn't DaVinci's," he said, mentioning the restaurant where they'd celebrated their engagement. There was a brief pause before she heard his low, guilty laughter. "I have to admit though that I really enjoyed myself," he added, "As perverse as that seems." "I could tell," she replied, "And, as perverse as it also seems, it was fun to watch." She saw his rakish grin widen in the dim light. "That, of course, does not give you carte blanche to decimate rural bullies whenever we venture out," she reminded him primly. "Of course not," he responded, mockingly contrite.

A little while later, they turned down the long, narrow dirt track that led to the isolated cabin. When he parked the jeep in the clear area in front of the cabin, Ian left the headlights on so that he could see to unload the groceries. Sara asked Ian if he needed her help with the groceries. After he assured her that he could handle them himself, she gathered her purchases and headed into the cabin. It was freezing and, as soon as Ian had brought in all their food, he set to work building a roaring fire. While he took care of that, Sara put the groceries away. They finished simultaneously and both dropped to the sofa to enjoy the heat and dancing flames.

She snuggled up against Ian and handed him a long strip of paper with candy dots on it. "What exactly am I supposed to do with this?" he asked. She grinned and said, "You bite the dots off the paper. Don't snicker – there's an art to it. You have to get the dot without getting a mouthful of paper. It takes finesse, Nottingham. C'mon, give it a try. Let's see you do a row without tearing the paper." Ian carefully worked on the paper with tongue, teeth, and lips until he'd eaten a row of dots, leaving the paper utterly unscathed. "Show off," she grumbled a little breathlessly because watching all his complicated tongue action had gotten her juices flowing.

He started to reach across her, saying, "What else have you got in that bag?" But she pulled the bag out of his reach. "Never, ever touch a girl's candy unless you want to lose a hand," she said. "Sorry," he said, properly apologetic, "I had no idea." "Yeah, well, now you know," she replied, "And, before you ask, that wasn't a metaphor." The smile that had been playing around his lips became a grin. "So, are you planning to share?" he asked. She didn't answer. She just kept her eyes locked with his as she gracefully bit candy dots off of increasing sodden paper. As she captured the last dot between her teeth, the paper tore. "Oops," he said, gloating. "Okay," she growled, "So you have less spit than I do." "Not necessarily," he replied, grin turning lethal, "Want to swap and see?" She felt her heartbeat pick up.

"Is the overdose of sugar making you addled, Nottingham?" she asked, "What would you do with this, I wonder?" A small wax bottle filled with blue liquid lay in the palm of her outstretched hand. He looked at it like it was a specimen under a microscope before taking it with two careful fingers. "What's in it?" he asked, nose wrinkling, "Am I supposed to drink it? How do I get to the liquid?" "All excellent questions," she said, "But you're the Columbus in this Candyland. Go forth and chart new territory." She watched him to see what he would do. He sniffed it first then cautiously licked it. Her eyes never left that long, pink and artful tongue. He tentatively sucked at the bottle top, trying unsuccessfully to find an opening. He brought the candy close to his eyes, studying it carefully. "Fuck it," he said softly, decisively biting off the top of the wax bottle and spitting it out. He tilted the sky blue liquid into his upturned mouth.

She smiled at the appalled look on his face. "God," he hissed, "It's liquid sugar." "Yeah," she said happily, "Horrible, isn't it?" "Horrendous," he agreed, "Can I have another?" "Sure," she said, "Do you have a color preference?" "Got orange?" he asked. "You don't have to impress me, you know," she said, "You could work your way up to the orange. Try a cherry before you hit the mother lode of sweet." He shook his head and said, "I've never been one for half measures." She shrugged and dug in the bag. Her hand came out grasping an impossibly orange wax bottle. She shook her head and said, "That color is almost toxic." He lifted one brow and said, "Give it here." Shaking her head, Sara handed him the bottle. This time, he immediately bit off the top of the bottle with a devil-may-care flare. She had to smile. "We who are about to die salute you," he intoned, drinking the fluid down in one gulp. "Ewwwwww," he gasped, shivering all over and squinching up his face. Sara grinned. She couldn't help it. He was adorable.

"Wow, you weren't kidding. That was actually cloying. I think my teeth all dissolved on impact," he said. She slid one hand along his bearded jaw line, stroking. "Open up," she said. The other brow lifted this time. "Your mouth, smart ass," she clarified. His lips curved and he opened his mouth for her. She peered in and said, "Nope. Looks like your teeth survived the onslaught but your tongue is bright orange." "I wonder if the color would come off when I lick something," he said, leering. Sara leered right back. "What were you planning on licking?" she asked, breathing faster. His hand shot out to catch the back of her neck and pull her face close to his. He claimed her lips in an aggressive, hot kiss using that bright orange tongue so creatively that she thought her toes must have curled up in her shoes. When they parted to breathe, she had to put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself because she felt lightheaded.

"Open up," he said. Her eyes went wide. "What?" she asked. "Your mouth, Sara, your mouth," he clarified. "Oh," she said, opening her mouth. He laughed like a delighted child. "The toxic orange tongue is, in fact, transferable," he said. "Who cares," she said, snaking out her hand to catch the back of his neck and pulling his lips back to hers. This one was a twenty-toe curler. At some point during the kiss, Ian pulled her onto his lap because he wanted to feel more of her body against his. By the time the kiss ended, Sara was completely wrapped around him and his shirt was unbuttoned. Neither one of them remembered how that had happened. Sara pushed it off his shoulders, leaving him in the black tee shirt, which was now also pulled free of his jeans.

Sara slipped her hand up under the tee shirt to drag her nails through his chest hair. His hand had also found its way under her sweatshirt to tease one nipple erect before moving on to the other. Sara was zeroing in on his waiting lips again when she stopped. Ian thought that he'd almost literally seen a light bulb go on in her brain. He frowned when she pulled back to rummage through the bag of candy once again. "Where did my kiss go?" he asked, pouting, "And why did you take away your hand?" "Would you be cold here without your clothes?" she asked. His lips curved into a wicked smile. "I guess that would depend on what you're planning to do to me once I've stripped," he replied. "Well," she said, "There's this candy that we used to call "Lickamade…" She didn't get any further. Ian heard the word "lick" and his hands moved to unsnap his jeans.

He took off his clothes, tossing them on the chair, and settled back on the sofa with the throw pulled around him. "You too," he said. She pulled out the band that held back his hair and then tucked a stray curl behind his ear. "I'm not as hot blooded as you are," she said, "I'll change to my robe and a pair of socks, otherwise I'll be too cold. Will that suit you?" He nodded and waited while she went into the bedroom to change. When she returned, she said, "Stretch out so that I can reach all of you." He shifted his body on the sofa, unfolding his long legs beside her.

She pulled a paper packet out of the candy bag and ripped it open across the top. He watched her every move, curious. She shook out a small pile of red powder over his right nipple. She threw him a quick smile before leaning down to lick up every granule. By the time that she'd licked him clean, he was panting and straining to give her greater access to more places to cover with sweet powder. "You're going to be all sticky," she said. "Okay," he said, voice a bit shaky. "Want some?" she asked. He shook his head, eyes big. "You can have it all. I'll be happy to experience this one externally," he whisper"Me"Meaning that I should keep pouring and licking, huh?" she replied. "Please," he agreed. She smiled and covered his left nipple. After she'd licked that one clean, another larger, lower target had presented itself.

She skimmed her hand over the object in question and he quivered. "This will take a whole packet all by itself," she said, feeling his erection jump under her skimming nails. "You've got more in that bag of yours, right?" he asked, concerned. "Lots," she said, smiling as he visibly relaxed. She studied the lovely shaft in her hand like a connoisseur. "This looks like grape to me," she said and began digging through the candy bag. He grinned and asked, "I guess they don't make a banana flavor, do they?" She grinned back and said, "Sorry, just the basics. Ah, here it is," holding the packet like a prize. She bent down to take the whole head in her mouth and lick it thoroughly so that the powder would stick. Ian, who hadn't anticipated her action, nearly went through the roof. He gasped loudly, hip hips arched up off the sofa reflexively, and his hand moved to tangle shaking fingers in her hair.

Sara pushed against his hand to raise her head. "Did I startle you?" she asked. He snorted in response, panting like he'd run up several flights of stairs. She grinned and dumped grape candy powder over the head of his erection. This entirely different sensation once again caught him unawares. He hissed and closed his eyes, his body straining towards her. "Ahhh," she said, watching his face, "You like the feel of that, don't you." "Yes," he managed through gritted teeth, "But I think I'll like you licking it off even better." She obliged him by bending over to do just that. The combination of sweet candy powder and drops of sour/salty fluid escaping him were surprisingly erotic. She lapped enthusiastically while his control grew increasingly fragile.

When he was making desperate noises in the back of his throat and he could no longer stay still beneath her, Ian reached down to catch her under the arms and pull her back up onto his lap. Sara looked at him, eyes glazed, and said, "What?" He brushed a shaky kiss across her lips and said, "This," his fingers moving inside her robe and between her legs. "Oh, that," she whispered, putting her arms around his neck and burying her face in the hollow under his chin. She spread her legs for him and licked his neck, his beard tickling her tongue. She soon found the sensitive spot that drove him crazy and his fingers became a little rougher than he might have intended. That didn't bother Sara at all. Before either of them expected it, her body arched up against his hand as an orgasm tore through her.

"That was fast," he said. "Too fast," she replied, languid against him, "Do it again – please." He smiled and slipped two fingers inside her while still rubbing her with his thumb. He winced as her fingernails dug into his neck. "Harder?" he asked. She nodded, finding it difficult to talk. "And faster," she managed breathlessly. "Oh, Iaaaaaaaan," she keened into his ear, her body going rigid as another orgasm grabbed her. He pulled her against him, kissing her damp forehead and stroking her back as her breathing slowed back to normal. "Okay?" he asked. She nodded. "More?" he asked. She nodded again. But when his fingers slipped back to stroke her, she caught his hand and said, "I want you inside me first."

She felt his lips against her forehead again before he pushed himself up to a sitting position with Sara still on his lap. "We could go in the bedroom…," he began. Sara shook her head. "I want you right now," she said, "Please." He lifted her under the arms again and shifted her around on his lap so that she faced away from him. "Push up and forward a little," he said softly. She did as he instructed and he guided himself inside her. He put his warm hands on either side of her waist to help her rock back and forth with his thrusts. Once the rhythm was going, he slid one arm all the way around her so that he could stroke her while they made love.

In a little while, Sara said, "This isn't working for me. Can you stay with me down to the floor?" "Sure," he whispered, "Just say 'when.'" Sara leaned forward and said, "When," as she dropped from the sofa to the rug in front of the fire. Ian stayed right with her, still inside her. She'd pulled a pillow with her that she worked under her hips as she stretched out. Ian balanced his weight on knees and hands, and suddenly his thrusts were going deeper. Sara purred and pushed back against him. "Much better," she breathed, her voice dropping to a moan as he picked up the pace and stroked harder. Once again, he moved one arm around her so that he could caress her. "Good," she said between soft pants, "That feels very, very good." Sara strained back against him, wrapping her muscles around him, and now Ian let out a hoarse moan as he forced himself into her tight sheath.

As their lovemaking became more incendiary, Sara's wild movements knocked Ian slightly off balance. He shifted his right arm to keep his weight from pressing too hard against her. In the process, he inadvertently touched Excalibur to the Witchblade. Between one second and the next, Ian was somewhere else. All he could see was the bed. Everything beyond that was obscured in veils of gray, swirling fog. He was on that bed making love to Sara – except now they were in the traditional position, face to face with Ian on top. And, he suddenly realized, this wasn't Sara in the strictest sense either. It was the Witchblade itself that was clenched tightly around him.

His passionate movements slowed and then ceased. He began gently trying to pull free of the lover now beneath him. Although his mind was still a muddle of passion and shock, he felt trapped and that he was being unfaithful to his Sara. Except, of course, that the Witchblade was Sara or certainly part of Sara or… "Oh, hell," he thought, distressed, "It doesn't matter. This doesn't feel right." He wondered briefly if he was still on the floor of the cabin, deep inside his true love. If he was, Sara was probably completely oblivious to what was happening to him.

As Ian tried to pull free, long lithe legs locked around his hips and a wave of blinding sexual desire attacked him. He cried out, overwhelmed by sensation. The Witchblade took advantage of the momentary weakness It had created in him. It rolled Ian over and moved to the dominant position. Still trying to recover the strength to resist, he begged, "Please…," softly, desperately. "Hush," Witchblade Sara said, riding him hard for the few more seconds it took to bring them together to a climax that fogged his brain and crossed his eyes.

He'd come so hard that he lay limp, feeling empty in more ways than one. Witchblade Sara dismounted him and ran a hand over his slick chest. "Through so many of our lifetimes," It said, "You have been a glorious lover, my Protector." "I want to go back to Sara," he whispered raggedly, "Please let me go back to her." It pushed his damp hair off his forehead and replied, "You can go back to her soon. Give me another moment." Witchblade Sara leaned down and kissed him, parting his lips with a questing tongue. This time, there was no response from him at all. A loud sigh escaped the vision that looked so much like his love. "Alright, Protector," It said, "Go back to the Wielder. But remember this. When the lines converge, think before you act. If you do not, you will bring us all to grief. Trust in me."

Ianght ght the clutch of nausea in his belly. He thought he was struggling with the vertigo induced by shifting from one dimension to another in the blink of an eye. Then, he was back on the floor of the cabin and Sara – his Sara – sounded annoyed. "Hey, Nottingham," she said, "Have you fallen asleep back there? You're really getting heavy. Do you think you might move so that I can breathe again sometime soon?" He eased out of her and rolled to her side, pulling her into his arms to hug her tight. "I'm so sorry, love," he said, meaning more than pinning her to the rug, "What can I do to make it up to you?" She snuggled against him as he stroked her and planted soft kisses along her neck and shoulder. "Ummm," she said, appreciatively, "Well, that's a good start. What's else can you do?" "Whatever you want," he responded.

"Can you open a bottle of wine?" Sara asked. There was a long pause while he shifted mental gears. "You want wine now?" he asked, "You never drink wine this late. Is something wrong?" With an awful sinking feeling, he wondered if she'd shared the Witchblade's use of him in some way and the wine was to dull them both to the violation. She surprised him by saying, "Not at all. In fact, it's more along the lines of a celebration – or maybe ritual is a better word. Anyway, nothing bad." A shaky breath escaped him. "Okay," he thought, "She doesn't know. With luck, she'll never know because this is one of those things that I shouldn't tell her." Aloud, he asked, "Red or white?" "I don't suppose we have any champagne, do we?" she wanted to know. "Sure, we do," he responded, "For after the Convergence. But, I guess we could have one bottle now if you think it's necessary." "It's necessary," she said.

"Okay," he said, "Just give me a minute to put on some pajamas and I'll get the champagne." Pulling her robe back around her, Sara ogled Ian as he walked naked to the bedroom in the firelight. In a couple of minutes, he came back out wearing a pair of the black silk pajamas. He headed right through to the kitchen and she soon heard the unmistakable pop of a champagne cork. "Are you hungry?" he called, "Want some bread and cheese to go with it?" Her stomach growled at the thought and she grinned. "That sounds good," she replied. He came in carrying a large cutting board holding several cheeses, a bunch of grapes, a knife, and a long loaf of French bread. He set it on the floor in front of her before he went back to the kitchen to return with the open bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses.

He put everything down before sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. Once there, he looked at her expectantly. She reached out and took his hands. Looking directly into his eyes, Sara said, "Ian, I love you completely. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life." She watched a little shudder travel through his entire body unnoticed. His golden eyes had gone huge and glittery in the lambent light of the room. "Oh, Sara," he whispered, breathlessly. "Will you marry me?" she asked. She saw confusion edge into his beautiful eyes. "But, I thought…," he began. "Just answer the question, Nottingham," she said, sternly. His lips curved. "Of course I'll marry you," he replied. He'd play any game that she wanted.

Sara reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a black velvet pouch. His tawny eyes got even bigger. She dug the heavy silver ring from the pouch and solemnly slid it on to the ring finger of his left hand. As the shopkeeper had said, it was a perfect fit. The ring had been a bargain to be able to see that look on his face, she thought. He held his hand up to the light, his expression a charming combination of awe, love, and shock. Then, all the air left her body in a great whoosh as he pulled her into his arms. "I love you so much," Ian whispered, between the kisses he kept pressing all over her face and neck. "Why should we wait until after the Convergence?" he whispered, "Why don't we just get married now?"

"Whoa," Sara said, "Easy there, ace. Like you said, I only plan on one wedding. I want it to be special. I want my friends there. Now, it would be some furtive little ceremony with a justice of the peace sandwiched between ting ing sessions. I want more than that." He bent to kiss her lips. "Of course, you're right," he said, "I got carried away. I can't begin to put into words how much your ring means to me. I love it. I'll never, ever take it off again. Thank you." "My pleasure," she said smiling, "How about a toast?" He grinned and carefully poured champagne into the flutes, passing one to Sara. Touching her glass to his, she said, "To my soul mate and husband, Ian." She saw another of those little shivers run through him before he said, "To my soul mate and wife, Sara."

They drank and Sara ran a tongue over her lips and said, "This is good stuff." Ian nodded and replied, "It was intended to celebrate the beginning of a new world so this works out well. I just don't have the words to tell you how you've made me feel." Her stomach growled again and they both laughed. "Not to dampen the mood," she said, "But do you think you could cut me some of that bread and cheese?" "Yeah, I think I can do that," he said, leaning in to give her one more quick kiss before he started cutting. An hour later, full of candy, bubbles, and snacks, they were cuddled together in bed, dreaming.

It was just turning light when Ian woke. He sighed softly, feeling warm, comfortable, and safe. He opened his eyes to see the top of Sara's head. She lay, half on top of him, her head on his chest, her arm thrown casually over his hip, one leg between his. He dropped his head to bury his face in her thick hair, inhaling deeply. Breathing in her scent, a wave of love and desire washed over him. He raised his face, lifting his hand from where it rested on her shoulder to look again at the ring that she'd given him. Ian hadn't received many gifts in his life and never anything as intimate as a ring. The enormity of it, the meaning behind it, simply overwhelmed him. He loved her so much that he didn't know how he could hold it all within him and not explode.

He carefully pulled her closer, not wanting to wake her. She made a little sound in her sleep and, happy to oblige, pushed further up his body. She nuzzled her face into the hollow between his chin and shoulder. The feel of her warm breath and her lips against his neck made his own breathing quicken. Her left hand found its way under his pajama top to absently rub his hard, warm abs in her sleep. Ian shut his eyes and whispered her name, giving himself over to her touch, shutting out everything but the feel of her hand. Still sleeping, Sara stretched and her hand slid down his belly under the loose elastic of his pajama bottoms. Ian's right hand clutched the pillow and his hips raised in invitation. A soft needy moan escaped his parted lips.

That sound changed into a hiss of pain as her fingers closed around him. His eyes opened and he frowned, not understanding why her light, welcome caress was hurting him. A sudden, vivid image of Sara above him, riding him to a quick hard climax played across his mind. "No, not Sara," he thought. He willed himself to hold still and let her stroke him. After all, he'd endured much worse pain than this at Irons' hands. He didn't ever want to stop Sara from touching him, even as sore as he was right now. She grasped him harder and his forehead beaded with sweat. To distract himself from the pain, he replayed the moments when she'd given him his ring in his mind, unable to stop his body from shifting slightly beneath her. When he moved, Sara started to slide off of him. Her hand stopped stroking him and rose to grasp his hip. He sighed in relief and set himself to ignore the still throbbing ache in his groin. In a few more moments, the pain was manageable and then it was gone.

Ian leaned down to softly kiss her hair before carefully sliding her back down to the bed beside him. She'd be awake soon and he wanted to have her coffee waiting for her. He eased quietly out of bed. He smiled as she murmured and pulled his pillow into her arms, burying her face in it. Ian padded barefoot through the silent cabin, stopping to build the fire back up before heading to the kitchen. He hummed as he made a pot of coffee and put water on for his tea. Every few seconds, he'd stop to look at the way the light hit the ring on his left hand. He couldn't stop staring at it, touching it with a reverent finger as if to confirm that it was real. Ian suddenly stopped what he was doing and stood stock still, thinking, "Sara asked me to marry her and put this ring on my finger." The implications of those actions sent a tremor straight through him. His eyes filled, his heart pounded, and his face lit up with a beautiful smile of pure joy. It took him several moments to recover and then he had to fight the strong urge to let out an absolutely pagan cry of sheer happiness. He stood by the perking coffeemaker in the otherwise silent kitchen, grinning like a fool. On a whim, he dug in the cupboard for a cookbook and found a recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies.

Sara woke to the smells of fresh coffee and baking cookies. The luscious odor of warm cinnamon was drifting through the still air of the bedroom. She smiled and stretched luxuriously under her pile of warm quilts. Her stomach growled and she chuckled, thinking, "He's baking. My beautiful Ian is baking for me. Jeez, does that smell good." She sat on the side of the bed to pull on her socks and her old, ratty bathrobe. She suddenly remembered the look on his face when she'd given him the ring and she had to smile all over again. She shook her head. "He's so easy to please," she thought, "I give him an old ring that costs less than two hundred bucks and he acts like I've given him the keys to Paradise."

She stopped a minute by the cheerfully blazing fire before continuing on to the kitchen. Ian sat at the table sipping tea. He looked fresh and clean in his black sweats, his hair pulled back in a band. She blinked. A mug of coffee sat on the table across from him, waiting for her. A plate in the center of the table held big, chunky oatmeal raisin cookies. She looked at the coffee, steam rising from it. "How do you do that?" she asked. He lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Time it so perfectly," she clarified. He smiled and said, "I felt you wake up. I knew that the smell of coffee would bring you to the kitchen in a few minutes. It doesn't take a brain surgeon."

"That's good," she replied, picking up the mug and carefully sipping hot coffee, "Because I'd much rather have a baker." "You better taste them before giving me that much credit," he said, "I've never made cookies before. Don't expect them to compare with Mrs. Miller's." Sara grabbed a cookie from the plate and took a healthy bite. She shut her eyes and sighed. "And, as usual," she said, "You aren't giving yourself enough credit. They're wonderful." Ian flushed with pleasure. "I guess that I'll have to keep you now," she added, "You not only can cook, you can bake too." He grinned and responded, "I'll keep finding new ways to weasel my way into your affections until you can't ever do without me."

Sara finished her coffee, poured herself another cup, and sat down across from Ian. She put several cookies on the napkin that he'd placed in front of her. She watched him as she ate them. After a couple of minutes, she said, amused, "You don't have to keep touching the ring, ace. It's not going to disappear." His cheeks colored and he dropped his head. "No one's ever given me anything like this," he murmured, "I just can't believe it's real. I can't keep my hands off it. I love it." She reached across the table to link her fingers with his. "I can see that," she said, "I'm glad you like it." His head came back up. "I love it," he corrected her. "Good," she said, still smiling and thinking again how easy he was to please.

Sara disengaged her hand from his to pick up another cookie. "Well, I guess the vacation's over and we go back to training today," she said. Ian nodded. "We'll learn how to create a wall of energy to block the gate," he said, "If we can master that today, I imagine that we'll start working with the orb. It's only a little more than a week until the Convergence." Sara stopped chewing and her eyes focused somewhere in the mid-distance. "We've been getting ready for this for so long now that it doesn't seem real to me any more," she said, "I wonder when I'll start getting scared." "If you do," he said softly, "Come to me and I'll make it better." Now her eyes focused on his. "Think you can?" she asked. "I can try," he answered.

Sara finished her second mug of coffee and said, "Well, I think I'll hit the bag for a while before Lazar turns up. Have you already done your katas?" Ian nodded. "Wow," she said, "You must have been up since the crack of dawn. Didn't you sleep well?" "I slept fine, thanks," he replied, "I just woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep." She frowned. "You're sure you're okay," she pressed, "No more visions. Anxiety under control?" "I'm fine, Sara," he said, "I promise that I won't fall apart like that again." "No," she thought, "Of course you won't. Next time you'll hide it better." She got up to put her mug in the sink. As she passed him, she pulled the band out of his hair and it fell in clean, shiny waves around his face. "Hey," he said, startled. "I like to be able to get my hands in it, baby," she said, standing behind him and digging her fingers through his silky locks. He shut his eyes and pushed his head back against her stroking fingers. A sound like a purr issued from his throat. She glanced at the clock. She sighed, ruffling his hair and moving away. As she passed him on her way to the punching bag, she dropped the band back on the table in front of him. "I guess it's probably better to pull it back for training though, isn't it," she said. He shrugged.

Ian cleaned up in the kitchen while Sara beat the hell out of her punching bag. As she was heading for the shower, he was going out to replenish their supply of firewood. It was mid-morning when they met up again back in the living room. As Ian stood, after stacking fresh firewood in the box by the fireplace, Sara slid her hands up under his sweatshirt to rub his bare chest. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her close for a long, deep kiss. When their lips parted, she raised up on tiptoe to rub noses with him. "Hey, Nottingham," she whispered. "Hey, Sara," he whispered back, giving her that slow smile that made her blood start to simmer. She ran her tongue around the edge of his lips and said, "I wonder if we have time for…" She glanced over his shoulder and added, "Never mind."

"Morning," she said, nodding to Lazar who was perched on the edge of the chair behind Ian. Ian jumped and turned quickly. "Good morning, Sir," he said. Lazar nodded, "Wielder, Protector. Have you regained your equilibrium? Are you ready to resume your training?" They both nodded back at him. "Good," he said, "We have a great deal to accomplish today and time grows short."

Throughout the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Lazar kept them focused on exercises that used two matched crystals to create a wall of crackling white-hot energy. Both Lazar and Sara looked at Ian curiously when he balked at touching Excalibur to the Witchblade. As an alternative, Ian suggested that they meld thpowepower without making the physical connection. Although Ian tried to present it as skipping a step in the process, saving time, both Sara and Lazar sensed Ian's strong reluctance to come into physical contact with Sara's bracelet. In the interest of time, they tried it Ian's way and it worked. Again, Ian's relief was palpable and two pairs of appraising eyes fixed on him briefly before the afternoon's work continued.

As the day's light began to wane, they tried to aim their joined power through the single crystal before diffusing it again into a wall that spanned the space between the pair of crystals placed ten feet beyond. They created the wall perfectly and managed to hold it for half an hour before Lazar told them to rest. Sara slumped over, exhausted by the effort. Ian quickly cleared the distance between them and caught her in his arms; his own arms shaking. She curled against him and he cradled her close, rocking her. "Today was difficult," Lazar said, "Tomorrow will be easier. Late tomorrow, we will begin to work with the orb at the Convergence site." They both nodded weakly.

Lazar frowned and raised his head as if he was a hound scenting danger. "Do either of you feel something different in the air?" he asked. Sara smirked, lifting her head from Ian's chest. "What, you mean like a disturbance in the force, Master Yoda?" she asked. Lazar shook his head and Ian said softly, "Sara." Ian turned to Lazar and added, "I've felt like I was being watched all afternoon. That sensation of someone's eyes being on you." Lazar scanned the corners of the darkening room. "I cannot pin it down," he said, "Be on your guard tonight. Something is lurking just out of sight in the shadows. Let's hope that it remains there." Sara cuddled closer to Ian, saying, "Now, there's a cheery thought." Both men looked at her and smiled. "Rest, Wielder," Lazar said, "The hardest training is past." Before he left, Lazar looked once more at Ian and said, "Ware, Protector." Then he was gone.

Over Sara's head, worried golden eyes shifted to the now dark windows of the cabin. "I think I'd like a nap before dinner," Sara said. Her mundane statement brought him back and he replied, "I'll join you." She turned toward the sofa, saying, "You first." He kicked off his shoes and bunched up all the pillows at the end of the sofa nearest the fire before stretching out. Once he was comfortable, Sara kicked off her shoes and curved herself against him – head on his shoulder, left arm across his chest, leg between his. His left arm closed around her, pulling her closer as he dragged the throw from the back of the sofa over them both. Sara gave a great sigh and slid her left hand up under his sweatshirt to rub his abs. His sigh was much softer as his body relaxed under her tou
W
When Ian woke, the fire had burned low and it was getting cold in the cabin. Sara was still sound asleep, tucked tight against him. There was no way to get up without waking her and he had to get up. He rubbed her shoulder gently and said, "Hey, sleeping beauty, time to get up and get some dinner." Sara stretched and made a rude sound, digging her nails into his stomach. "Not hungry. Just let me sleep," she mumbled. "Can't," he replied, "I have to get up to use the bathroom." "Crap," she said, a little more awake. "No," he said, "But urgent nonetheless." She snorted. "You're a pest, Nottingham," she replied, "This comes from all that healthy water drinking of yours." "Probably," he said, starting to squirm beneath her. "Okay, okay," she said, "Hold on."

Sara swung her legs over the side of the sofa and sat up, clutching the throw and rubbing her eyes. "Cold," she murmured. Ian angled his long legs around her. He stood and headed for the bathroom saying, "I know, love. I'll build up the fire again as soon as I come back." She was listening to him make reassuringly normal sounds in the bathroom when she suddenly felt like she was being watched. Green eyes opened wide to study the pitch black windows of the cabin, one after the other. She couldn't see a thing. Still, just to make herself feel better, she got up and pulled the curtains across all the windows in the room. She was covering the dark glass of the last window when Ian came back.

He looked at her questioningly. She'd never pulled the curtains closed once since they'd been in the cabin. After all, who was there to look in? She shrugged. "Heebie jeebies," she said, "Probably nothing." "Someone watching you?" he asked. She nodded and shivered. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry," he said, "There's nothing physical out there right now. I'd know if there were and we'd be out of here. But, something or someone is watching us, I think. We need to be on our guard tonight. Right now, let me build the fire back up and get you warm again." "Do you think it's X?" she asked. "I don't know," he replied, "I guess it could be. She's watched us before. With her abilities, she might be able to find us. Why now, though, I wonder? Why not sooner?" "Maybe it took her a while to find us," Sara said. "Maybe," he agreed.

In a few minutes, he'd built a roaring fire in the fireplace. Sara curled up in the chair, watching the flames. "Hungry yet?" he asked. She shrugged. "I guess I could eat something," she said. He sat on the arm of the chair and stroked her hair. "You haven't eaten all day, Sara," he said, "I thought you'd be starving. What's wrong?" "I had lots and lots of cookies," she said. "That's no answer," he pressed. Keeping her eyes on the fire, she said, "I don't know. I guess I'm starting to feel a sense of impending doom. The Convergence is only a week or so away. Today, building and holding that wall was so hard. It took everything I had to do it and it wasn't even real. What if I fail?" "You won't," he said, "We won't. You're so much stronger than you think." She snorted. "Oh, yeah?" she said, "What makes you so sure of that, ace?" "Because I know the woman I love very well," he said simply. And, strangely enough, that made her feel better.

She caught the hand that still stroked her hair and pulled it to her lips, kissing his palm. Then, she looked up at him with a mock frown and asked, "You did wash your hands, right?" He smiled and said, "After all the things that we've done to each other, that worries you?" She smiled back at him and said, "I could eat a couple of grilled cheese." "No problem," he replied, "With tomato soup?" "Yeah," she agreed, "And more cookies for dessert." "How about some fruit, instead," he tried, "You don't eat enough fruit, Sara." "Okay, Pop," she replied, "I'll eat some fruit tomorrow morning, but I want cookies tonight." He sighed knowing this was a battle that he wouldn't win. "You're going get scurvy," he said. "I can't get something that I can't spell," she said, "Go make dinner."

He placed a soft kiss on her hair and went to the kitchen to make dinner. While he clattered around, Sara watched the fire and thought about all that had happened and all that was coming. She thought about the weird feeling of eyes following her around and the willies that were still skittering up and down her spine. She was so deep in thought that when Ian called, "Soup's on," she jumped a foot off the chair. She took a deep breath to settle herself down before she went out to the kitchen.

Ian had candles burning on the table and he'd opened a bottle of Merlot to have with their grilled cheese and tomato soup. She smiled because she knew that Ian had probably had to fight the specter of Irons chastising him for serving up such a culinary faux pas. "This is elegant, honey," she said, "Thanks." He smiled and said, "Your welcome," holding out her chair for her. When they were seated, Ian poured her a glass of wine and said, "I think it might be good to go to bed a little early this evening. If something's going to happen – and I'm not saying it will – it will probably be in the small hours of the morning. This way, we'll get some rest. I also want to show you our escape route before we go to bed." She put the sandwich she was eating back on her plate. "You really think that someone's going to try something, don't you?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Why now?" she asked. "How did you pay for my ring?" he countered. "What?" she asked. When he didn't say any more, she said, "I used my Visa, why?" "It's a standard way of finding someone," he replied, "Put a flag on their charge cards to see if they're used. It narrows the search. It may be that X's talents have a limited range. They know where we were yesterday so they move into the area and she looses her mojo." Sara dropped her head and said, "God, Ian, I'm so sorry. I didn't think." He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "No, love," he said, "Don't worry about it. It was only a matter of time anyway. I'm sure that they've been trying to find us since we left. Actually, I'm surprised that it took them this long."

She dropped his hand to pick her sandwich back up, saying, "Well, no sense fighting on an empty stomach. Do you think they want to kill us or just grab us?" "At a guess, I'd say they want us out of the way," he replied, "We're out here in the middle of nowhere. No one who's a threat knows where we are. It would be easy to just make us disappear without a trace." "Why now?" she asked, "The Convergence is a week away." "Yes," he agreed, "But if we're not around a week from now, there's no one to block the Gate. The enemy wins without a fight."

"So," she said, "You think they'll throw the kitchen sink at us?" "No," he replied, picking up his wine and giving her a dazzling grin, "Actually, I don't. I think that they'll underestimate us and that gives us the advantage. And, we've become even stronger since we started working with Lazar." The image of Ian barely moving to wipe out those five buffoons in the motel bar suddenly replayed itself in her mind. "You're awfully confident, Mr. Nottingham," she said. He put down the wine and looked directly into her eyes. "What we're going to face out there in the woods a week from now worries me," he said, "Compared to that, X and company are nothing."

"You really think it's X, huh. So Irons is mixed up in this again," Sara said, "You weren't sure before. This is more than just wanting the Witchblade, isn't it? He's ready to turn darkness loose on the world." Ian nodded and said, "For Mr. Irons, it was always about power. But since the last time you fought, things have changed. His health is failing rapidly and he's becoming desperate. I believe that he's made another deal with the enemy. I think he's sold himself for restored health, eternal youth, immortality – something along those lines." Sara nodded. "So Kenny's in charge until his mentor can get through the Gate and take over," she said. Ian dropped his head. "Mr. Irons may think he's in charge," he said, "But I suspect that's an illusion. From what I saw of that creature, it doesn't share power gladly."

Sara watched Ian as he finished his soup. "Can you fight Irons, Ian?" she finally asked. "I can fight X," he answered. "That's not what I asked," she said quietly. "Mr. Irons himself is far too weak to be part of the battle," he said. She shook her head. "We don't really know what they can do, Ian. The enemy could give him a temporary infusion of strength. Maybe he'll join the battle as a very real illusion. He doesn't have to be here physically to be a threat," she said, watching him carefully, "So, I'm going to ask you again. Can you fight Irons?" Ian put down his spoon and looked at her directly. "I don't know," he replied.

Sara sat still for a moment staring back at him. "Swell," she said, picking up her dishes and carrying them to the sink. He turned on his chair to face her. "Did you want me to lie to you, Sara?" he asked. "No, I don't want you to lie to me," she said, "But you need to understand that you may not have the luxury of remaining neutral in this, pal. You may have no choice but to pick a side." "I know that," he said. Looking deep into those soft golden eyes, Sara melted. She decided to drop her cross-examination because she realized that this was yet one more thing that was quietly tearing him apart. "Okay," she said, trying now to make light of it, "Forewarned is forearmed." His answering smile didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.

Sara went to the tin where Ian had stored the remaining cookies and took out three. She glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "No thanks," he said. After putting the lid back on, she started to nibble on a cookie. "Why don't you show me that escape route now," she said. Ian nodded and stood. Catching her free hand in his, he led her to the bedroom. Crouching, he pushed aside the throw rug to expose a trap door in the floor. He flipped a simple hook lock and opened the door to reveal a four-foot drop to darkness below. "This leads to below the cabin," he said, "It's an easy crawl to the edge nearest the woods. The cover of the trees is only a short run from there."

Sara wrinkled her nose. "Are there nasty things under there?" she asked. Ian smiled. "I've tried to keep it pretty clear. There may be a spider or two. Believe me, nothing so nast wha what you'll find up here if we're forced to use this." She nodded and asked, "Is there a plan?" Ian shrugged. "It's hard to formulate a plan without knowing the number or expertise of the enemy," he said, "My aims are pretty basic – get you out of here to the woods where you're not an easy target. Make sure that you're safe. Then, protect the cabin and try to take out as many of them as I can."

Sara looked back at him for a moment before she asked, "And what exactly am I supposed to be doing while you're making the world safe for democracy?" "I know better than to hope that you'd stay out of danger and let me handle it," he said, "So you're supposed to be protecting yourself when I'm otherwise occupied." She frowned. "Why don't I get to be the aggressor?" she asked. He took her hand and kissed it. "Because you're too important. We can't afford to lose you with the Convergence so close. I don't know whether you could hold the Gate without me, but it's possible," he said, "I, on the other hand, could never hold the Gate without your power. That makes me expendable. Let me take the risks and protect you. It's what I'm meant to do." Sara frowned but didn't try to argue with him.

Ian shut the trapdoor and replaced the rug. "Do you want more wine?" he asked. "I guess one more glass wouldn't hurt," she replied. "Why don't you go relax by the fire where it's warm and I'll bring it to you before I clean up the kitchen," he said. "Do you want me to help?" she asked. He slipped his arm around her as they walked back to the living room. "No, thanks," he said, "Just relax. I won't be long." Sara curled up in the chair sipping the wine that Ian brought her. While he worked in the kitchen, she tried to shake the sense that something evil was coming her way. Her eyes kept straying to the curtained windows. "And Ian expects me to go to bed and sleep peacefully tonight?" she thought, "He's nuts."

She jumped when he touched her on the shoulder. "Sorry, love," he apologized, "I didn't mean to startle you." "Nah, it's okay," she said, "I'm just really on edge. My spidey sense is on full alert. You got in under the radar because you didn't register as a threat." He grinned and asked, "Are you trying to turn me on with military talk? Because, if you are, it's working." "Oh yeah?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes, "Are you preparing to assault my perimeter?" His grin got wicked. "I might reconnoiter for a while first, scope out the target area," he purred. "That's fine with me," she agreed, "As long as your reconnaissance includes hands-on forays into the terrain. Is that your mission, Nottingham?" He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, saying, "My mission is to infiltrate the target area and secure the position." "Mmmm," she whispered, pulling his lips down to hers, "I think the success of your mission is assured."

In the bedroom, he rolled on to the unmade bed, pulling her with him. They were still kissing, playing tag with their tongues. When Sara moved back to catch her breath, she put a hand on his chest and whispered, "Honey, I'm just not comfortable getting naked and vulnerable tonight. Is that okay? All my instincts are telling me that I need to be ready for something and I just can't relax and give this full attention. Do you understand?" "Of course," he replied, "I feel it too. We can still stay dressed and cuddle though, don't you think? I brought our jackets in here so that we'll be ready to go outside if we need to. They're on the chair."

"Oh, yeah, I think we can fool around a little and still stay ready. How far away can you sense intruders?" she asked. "Right now, the access road and woods around the cabin are clear," he replied. "Wow," she said, impressed, "You can sense strangers all the way out to the access road? I have a feel for the woods around the cabin, but that's it. Why is your antennae so much better than mine?" She felt the shoulder beneath her head lift a little. "I'm much more familiar with the area. That's all it is," he said. "So, you'll know soon enough to give us plenty of time to react, right?" she asked. "Stop worrying. Everything's under control," he said, turning his head to kiss her again. "Right," she murmured, shivering as her lips parted for his tongue and the willies kept running up and down her spine.

In spite of that, at some point, Sara must have fallen asleep because Ian woke her with a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. She blinked her eyes open, groggy, and said, "What?" "Car just pulled onto the access road," he said. She came awake fast. "Could be anyone?" she said hopefully. The access road was a public thoroughfare, after all. "No," he replied, "Another car just followed the first." He lay still for another moment. She could feel his whole body focused toward that distant point in the dark. "That's it," he finally added. She felt him move off the bed. Sara sat up, still a bit sleepy and trying to shake it off fast. Her jacket fell onto the bed next to her. "Put your jacket on, love," Ian said. He moved smoothly in the darkness of the room, slipping into the role of creature of the night quite naturally.

"Do we have to go out in the cold so soon?" she asked, "They won't get here for a while." "Let's position ourselves now while there's plenty of time," he said, "No point in taking chances." Sara reached out to touch him in the dark. "Will you keep me warm?" she asked. "I'll keep you everything," he whispered, already in battle mode, "Just listen to me, okay?" "Okay," she replied, subdued. He drew her into his arms for a long, soft kiss and she felt his katana strapped to his back. "It will be alright, my darling," he said, "I promise." Then, he added with a grin in his voice, "They're dead meat." She could feel the excitement thrumming along his nerve endings and she shivered, as much from the change she felt in Ian as from having to leave the warm bed. "Ready?" he asked. "Ready," she answered. He pulled aside the rug and opened the trap door into inky blackness below.

Ian opened his arms and Sara stepped into them. As he carefully lowered her to the earth below, she said, "Don't let a spider get me, Nottingham." "I'll fight any arachnid that lays a leg on you to the death, Sara," he replied, dropping beside her. She heard him close the trap door and work some kind of gadget that shifted the rug back into place. The little ambient light that had spilled down from the cabin above was now gone and the darkness was complete. "Shit," she breathed, "I want my warm bed." "You'll be back there soon, love," he said, "I promise."

She felt Ian crouch down and she did the same. "I'm going to head toward the woods," he said softly, "Keep your hand around my ankle and just follow along. It's not far. Here we go." Sara did as he'd told her. He was right. In a little way, she noticed that the darkness ahead was a bit brighter. Soon, she could make out Ian's crawling silhouette ahead of her. They went a bit further before Sara bumped into his behind, not realizing that he'd stopped. Looking ahead, she could now see that they'd reached the edge of the cabin. In fact, she could just make out the first line of trees about ten feet away.

In the dim light, she saw his head turn back to her. "As soon as you clear the cabin, take my hand and we'll run for the trees." he said before facing forward again. She reached ahead to grab a handful of cheek and give it a little squeeze. She saw his head turn back toward her again. "Why are we crawling around in stealth mode if no one's even close to us yet?" she asked. "Because I could be wrong," he said, "Because someone could be feeding me false impressions; because I'm not going to take any chances with your safety. Alright?" "Works for me," she agreed. "Good," he added, "Just stay with me."

Between one eye blink and the next, Ian disappeared from the end of the narrow space. Fighting a tiny nibble of panic, Sara kept crawling forward. Iotheother minute, she cleared the edge of the cabin and the star-filled night surrounded her. She felt his gloved hand grab hers and her feet automatically fell into motion. Almost before she was aware of it, they were standing amid the trees at the edge of the woods. The entire journey so far had been blissfully uneventful. "Where are they now?" she asked. "Half a mile from the turnoff to the cabin," he replied. "Where are we going?" she continued. "A safe place that I've got waiting for you. Now we need to be quiet. Okay?" he asked. She nodded.

Ian led her quickly through the moonlit woods, pointing out any tricky areas underfoot as they went. After about five minutes, they came to the edge of a moonlit clearing. Just to the right of it, there was a stand of dense, heavily branched Oak trees. Holding her hand, Ian brought her among this grouping of trees and stopped. "Ever climb trees when you were a kid?" he asked. "I was the champion of our block," Sara whispered proudly. "That's going to come in handy," he replied, "Follow me up. Just let me know if you hit any snags on the way. It's pretty high." She snorted. "You just watch your own self, ace," she said, "Lead the way." Ian launched himself into the tree as if he'd been born to arboreal travel. "Shit," she thought, immediately trying to catch up and then keep up with him.

Sara was so focused on each next handhold that she would have bumped her head against the platform above her unless Ian had softly called, "Sara, stop!" She froze, hanging on to the tree for dear life, and cautiously looked up. She saw Ian crouched above her in the moonlight. He was looking down at her through a circular opening in a flat wooden platform that spanned the entire circumference of the tree. The opening was above and slightly to the right of where she was flattened against the trunk. "There are pegs on the tree just to your right," Ian whispered.

Sara slid a cautious hand to her right, felt the peg, and grasped it tightly. Anchored, she moved her foot to the right, flailed for a moment or two, and then settled it securely on another peg. Hanging on to her holds, she shifted her whole body to the right and put her weight on the sturdy pegs. She rested there for a few seconds before she climbed the remaining distance, eased through the opening, and moved into Ian's waiting arms. He pulled her up on to the platform. She stayed nestled in his arms for a little while, still breathing hard from the exertion of the climb. He leaned down to brush a quick kiss across her lips before she crawled out of his arms to rest her back against the trunk of the Oak. Once there, she made herself comfortable and took a good look around her. "Lordy," she thought, "We are up very, very high."

Sara saw Ian's teeth flash white in a moonlit smile. "High," he said, echoing her thoughts in that eerie way of his. "Here are the advantages," he continued, "Attackers can only come at you from one direction and in single file. You can pick them off as they come up the trunk. Because of the platform, they can only get a clear shot at you from an equally high point on another tree in this stand, and none of the others have the footholds that this one has – they've been smoothed down." She made a sound and asked, "How long have you been working on this?" "This has always been part of my backup system for the cabin," he said, "I've made some additional improvements lately."

Her hand skimmed over a pile of rope coiled neatly on the platform. It appeared to be attached to a branch somewhere above them. "What?" she asked. "The only real danger to this position is fire," he said, "From up here, there are two escape routes. That rope provides a quick slide straight down. The rope on your left will swing you to another tree further back in this stand. There's another rope waiting in that tree, and so on. Unless this whole part of the forest goes up at once, you should be able to make it out safely." She ran one finger along his bearded jaw. "You're a little scary, Nottingham," she said. She felt more than saw his shrug. "I've told you before, Sara," he said, "I'm very good at what I do." "That's comforting," she replied, "Because it's necessary that we both make it safely through this night. I won't lose you." She saw the white of his teeth again. "Don't worry," he said, "I have no intention of getting lost."

Now, Ian unzipped a backpack that she hadn't noticed before. He pulled out a blanket and handed it to her. Sara gratefully wrapped it around her. It apparently had some special insulation because she began to warm up immediately. Next, he pulled out binoculars with a night vision attachment, a deadly looking automatic weapon with a silencer, and a large thermos. She grinned this time. "Coffee?" she asked hopefully. She could barely see him nod. "When did you make that?" she asked him. "When I cleaned up the dinner dishes," he said, "I thought that you might need some fortification for a long vigil."

"Ian," she said, already knowing it was a lost cause, "Why don't you just stay up here with me? Let them look around and leave again when they can't find us." He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, first one hand and then the other. "Sara, you know that I can't do that," he responded, "They won't just stop looking and leave. If they can't find us, they're liable to burn the cabin first and then start on the woods. I'm not going to let that happen. Aside from the fact that this is where we've chosen to make our stand, I love this place. It's been a home of sorts for me. It's where you first made love to me. I won't let it go without a fight. Do you understand?" "Of course I understand," she said, "But I'm worried about you. You take too many risks. Please be careful – do it for me if not for yourself." "I'll be careful, my love. I promise," he said, "And I'll do it for us. For the future that we're going to have together when all of this is over."

"I've got to go now," Ian said, "Are you okay?" "I'll be okay when this crap is finished and you're in my arms," she said, "When you are, Igoingoing to take you back to the cabin and hump your brains out." She heard his soft, sexy laugh. "I'll try to speed it up then," he purred, "Just don't shoot me when I come back to get you. With the promise of that reward, I want all my parts fully functional." "Me too," she said, "Give us a kiss before you go." He scooted over to her and pulled her into his arms. Sara wrapped herself around him and gave him a kiss that eventually left them both panting for air. "I love you, Sara," he whispered. "Ditto," she replied, "Come back for me soon, ace." She watched him disappear through the opening in the platform. In just seconds, he was down the tree and he'd vanished into the woods like a shadow.

She lifted the binoculars and, gazing through them, adjusted the resolution. The dirt track that led to the cabin suddenly came into sharp focus. As she watched, first one car and then another pulled on to and then across the track, blocking any escape route. She counted a total of twelve dark suited figures as they emerged from the cars. "Shit," she whispered, "Those odds aren't good, baby. That's a lot even for you." As she was trying to decide whether to climb down to even the odds – knowing that Ian would kill her if the enemy didn't – Sara saw a third car slowly moving down the access road with its lights out. "Damn," she thought, "More of them? Why didn't they arrive with the others?"

The crack of a gunshot somewhere near the cabin made her quickly swing the binoculars in that direction. She saw three black clad figures running toward the cabin. As the last one passed the line of trees to its left, it was suddenly dragged into the darkness of the woods. It didn't reappear. "Nottingham," she thought. As she watched, the remaining two attackers entered the cabin. A few minutes later, one of them emerged. It wandered around the edge of the woods where its companion had disappeared. It moved closer to the line of trees and – in the blink of an eye – it too was gone. Sara smiled. She saw the last figure emerge and walk toward the back of the cabin. It stood there looking around before it raised a walky-talky to its lips.

Sara slowly scanned the forest below her. She could see several of the remaining nine attackers that had fanned out to search the woods. She was watching the progress of one who was just shy of the clearing beyond her strand of trees. She started when a large figure moved with feline grace from behind a tree and dropped the marauding attacker with a single blinding blow. "How the hell did Ian get from the front of the cabin to the clearing that fast?" she wondered. She knew that he was good but that kind of speed was inhuman. She watched as he disappeared back into the darkness as quickly as he had emerged.

A moment later, Sara heard a piercing shriek that ended as abruptly as if someone had flicked a switch. She swung the binoculars in what she thought was the direction of the scream but she couldn't see anyone. That sound had come from closer to the cabin, she thought. Frustrated, she thought again about leaving her aerie to get into the action. All that held her back was the worry that she might expose Ian to more danger than he already faced. If he were focused on defending her, he'd be much less likely to protect himself. For the moment, she stayed where she was. It would kill her if her lack of judgment brought him to harm.

She saw a flash of motion to the right of the clearing before her. She swung and refocused the binoculars. Ian stood in the center of a ring of three more black attackers. She watched him roll and unsheathe his katana in one beautiful, fluid movement. Then, he swiveled and pirouetted among them in a deadly dance. It was like watching his morning katas, she thought. Except that, one after the other, his foes fell before him broken, still, and bloody. Seven down, five to go, she thought. Then, as she still watched, she saw him drop to one knee, the bodies of his victims surrounding him. "Ian," she said aloud, stricken. "That's it," she thought, as she started moving toward the opening in the platform.

And stopped dead, frozen in place. She heard a very soft snuffling sound coming from somewhere below her on the tree trunk. "Why didn't I sense anyone approaching?" she thought, panicked. Sara lay on her stomach and slowly slid over to the opening. She looked down, trying to expose as little of herself as possible. About halfway between the ground and the platform, something was clinging to the trunk of the tree, edging its way upward. It wasn't very large but it also wasn't human. It looked deadly. In the dim moonlight, she could see claws and scales. Fortunately, its head was down, displaying what looked like horns – it didn't see her but, then again, maybe it didn't rely as much on its eyes as it did on its nose. It appeared to be following her scent up the tree trunk.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Sara inched back to the where she'd left the gun that Ian had given her. Unless someone was really close to her tree, the silencer should cover her gunfire. Of course, the thing on the tree might be immune to bullets. "Only one way to find out," she thought, "I'd rather deal with it from a distance than up close and personal using the Witchblade." She crawled back to the edge of the platform and looked down. The demon-thing was a lot closer to the platform now. Just as Sara took aim, it raised its head and hissed at her. She saw its muscles bunch to leap. Its eyes were fiery red and filled with pure malice. She shot it right between them.

Apparently, it wasn't immune to bullets after all. It fell from the tree, landing in the rotting leaves around the base with a soft thump. She pulled back from the opening, watching carefully to see whether anyone came to investigate. Nothing. Now that the immediate danger was past, she remembered Ian. "He looked hurt," she thought, adrenaline shooting through her again. She dropped the gun and picked up the binoculars, turning them to where she thought she'd last seen him. The three attackers that he'd dispatched lay just where he'd left them but Ian was gone. "Shit, baby," she thought, "Where did you go and are you alright?"

She did a slow scan of the woods again. From right below her tree, across the clearing, and right to left all the way back to the cabin. She looked beyond the cabin and back out to the access road. The only movement that she saw was two remaining intruders running full out, trying to reach the cars. Before they could even clear the cabin, she saw a graceful killer detach from the shadows to fell them with two quick blows, one for each. Relief washed over her. "Thank god, he's alright after all," she thought. Now that her fears had been allayed, she relaxed and conducted a more thorough scan of the entire area. She saw no more movement anywhere. Then, voices close by dragged her attention back to the clearing in front of her.

Sara's eyes widened. At the near side of the clearing, X faced Ian. "What the hell..," Sara thought, "Where did they come from? How did he get here so quickly? He was just back at the cabin. And what's he doing with that bitch?" Sara strained her ears to make out what they were saying. "…even sexier now. Like a good tool that's been broken in, used often and well," Sara heard X say. "That Sara's concern, not yours," she heard Ian say, "I belong to her." "Like you belonged to Irons?" X asked, "Are you her slave now?" "I'm her lover and her mate," Ian replied, "There's a vast difference. But the nature of love may be unfamiliar to someone with your tastes, beyond your understanding." She saw X shake her head. "Pity," she said, "You've gone from being a prude to being proselytized without missing a beat. I was hoping to catch you in between, to introduce you to profligacy. You might have liked it. But it's too late now. She's ruined you. You are, after all, just a pretty boy-toy, first for Irons and now for the Wielder." Ian shrugged. "Sticks and stones," he said mildly.

She watched them circle each other like wary boxers. "Pity," X repeated, "All you're good for now is the kill. What a waste." "Get to it, why don't you," Ian said, "You never seem to tire of your own voice but I'm getting bored. Let's finish this so that I can get back to my lady's bed." "You seem to forget, cutie," X said with a distinct edge to her voice, "You're at a disadvantage here. You can't touch me but I can finish you. You might want to soften that smart mouth of yours so that I let you live a little longer." Ian grinned. "Fuck you," he said, "How's that? Soft enough for you?" Sitting in her box seat view, Sara grinned with him. It was very obvious from her change in stance that he'd finally really pissed X off. "No more chat," Sara thought, "I hope to god Ian's still got that perception shift thing Lazar taught us down cold."

X growled like an angry cat and launched herself at Ian. He timed it perfectly. When she should have solidly slammed into him, he simply wasn't there and X went flying a good five feet toward the center of the clearing. Ian laughed out loud. Sara could actually feel the white hot flash of X's rage. "He's playing her," Sara thought, "My innocent Ian is using her own emotions as a weapon against her." X sprang up from the ground. The only damage was her pride, but that was taking a beating. Sara watched the woman go still, gather herself, get herself back under control. X slowly pulled a wicked looking katana from a back sheathe like Ian's. "No more games, Nottingham," she said. Ian inclined his head and unsheathed his own katana. X smiled, amused at what she assumed was his foolishness – after all, she was vapor. You can't cut mist.

X danced toward Ian angling her sword for a killing blow. Ian raised his katana to counter it. The sharp clang of metal meeting metal rang through the still night air. Sara would have given anything to have a camera and flash so that she could have captured the look on X's face. It just lasted a second because then she was fighting for her life. Sara had seen Ian work out every morning, had seen him fight many times with his blade, had even battled him herself once using the Witchblade, but she'd never seen him move the way he did now in the moonlit clearing. He was on fire, pure deadly whirling grace and skill. And, to give the devil her due, X was almost his equal. Sara was mesmerized by the exhibition of dazzling swordplay. Each blow and counter blow emerged so naturally and seamlessly that it looked like a choreographed ballet.

Sara gasped as she saw a blossom of bright blood appear on Ian's left shoulder. X smiled, gloating, and that momentary indulgence was her undoing. Ian took advantage of her slight distraction to slip a quick slice of his katana under her defenses. Now, a long thin red line appeared straight across her middle, halving her. An expression of utter shock appeared on X's face. And, then, she simply disappeared. "Shit!" Ian yelled, frustrated. He brought the katana down so hard in front of him that the tip of the blade must have impaled the earth at his feet by more than a foot. Sara grinned and shook her head, knowing that feeling. She felt his soft sigh in her head. "The coast is clear, love," Ian said in her mind, "You can come down."

Sara repacked the backpack, slung it over her shoulders, and carefully climbed back down the tree. She gave the disgusting creature still crumpled among its roots a wide berth, not stopping for a good look because she needed to touch Ian to prove that he was relatively unscathed. When she reached the clearing, she couldn't help it, she ran the last few steps to his side. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him, kissing every patch of warm naked skin her lips could find. He laughed, delighted, and said, "Hey, take it easy. Keep that up and I might have to ravish you right here." She pushed sweaty, tangled hair out of his face before leaning in to really kiss him. There was nothing wrong with his lips or tongue, she decided. "What's the damage?" she asked. "Not too bad," he responded, "A couple of broken ribs and a cut on my left upper arm that will take a few stitches. Minimal damage."

"Did you have any visitors?" he asked. "Yeah," she replied, "Something that you're going to have to see to believe. I shot it between the eyes." He grinned. "Dead-eye Pezzini," he said. She grinned back at him. "'Laugh it up, Fuzzball'," she replied, "I see that you managed to give the ground here a lethal blow. What about X?" The grin changed to a frown. "I did some damage," he replied, "But the cut wasn't deep enough to kill her." "Too bad," Sara said, "Let's get you back to the cabin so that I can stitch up that wound and tape your ribs." As they started to walk across the clearing, holding hands, Sara said, "You were amazing. You seemed to be everywhere. One minute you were wiping out guys at the cabin and two minutes later you were trashing X in the clearing. How did you do that? Were you using Excalibur?" Sara stopped and looked at him. He was laughing. "Did I miss something here?" she asked, "What's so funny?"

Ian lifted his head, doing that eerie thing where he looked like an animal tracking scents on the air. Then, he turned his head toward the woods at their left and gave a soft, trilling bird whistle. "What the hell is this?" Sara said sarcastically, "Are you calling Tonto?" Ian turned to her, grinning. "Kinda," he replied. A second later, an answering call came drifting out of the woods to their left. Sara's eyes narrowed. She scanned the woods intently but could see nothing. She was still trying to figure out where the sound came from when Hector Mobius walked calmly from the woods. He stopped just short of them and nodded to Sara. "Detective Pezzini," he said in that rumbling bass. He was, if possible, bigger than she remembered. "Well," she said, "I guess that explains how you managed to be everywhere at once, Nottingham. How?" "Why don't I tell you the whole story back at the cabin where it's warm?" Ian suggested. "Good idea," she said.

As they trudged back to the cabin through the moonlight, Ian and Mobius discussed their various kills as soldiers are wont to do. Sara tuned them out to think about the coming battle and the creature at the base of the tree. When they reached the turnaround in front of the cabin, Mobius held up a hand to stop them from going inside. Sara just stood still, too tired for much curiosity. But Ian faced Mobius and lifted a questioning brow. Mobius turned to a nearby stand of trees and gave another whistle call. "Oh, please," Sara said under her breath, "What the hell is this, a bloody convention?" A couple of minutes passed before there was the sound of bushes thrashing and branches crackling. Then, Vicky Po emerged from the foliage looking much the worse for wear.

Sara's mouth dropped open. A second later, she and Ian simultaneously turned to look at each other, both remembering Sara's dream. By the time Sara turned back, Vicky stood directly before her, hands raised defensively. Sara's eyes narrowed dangerously. Seeing that look, Ianely ely caught Mobius' arm and led him inside the cabin, shutting the door behind them. Vicky took a deep, visible breath and said plaintively, "Before you go off, I can explain." Sara crossed her arms, raised the Pezzini eyebrow, and waited. "It better be damn good, Vick," she replied.

"Dreams?" Sara repeated. Vicki nodded. "Every damn night, Pez, and always the same," Vicki replied, "It's dark but bright. Zig-zags of lightning crackle through the air, like there's a downed power line that's invisible. There's been an awful battle. Mobius is there – when the dreams started, I had no idea who he was. He's just standing there with this big, evil-looking spear kind of thing. Little bodies are scattered all around him. They're child size but they sure ain't kids cause they've got horns, and claws, and scales. But here's the kicker, why I'm here, Ian is lying on the ground and I'm working frantically to save him." Sara's eyes were huge, anger forgotten. "Do you help him?" she asked, voice brittle. "I don't know," Vicki replied, "I always wake up before I find out."

"Where am I?" Sara asked. Vicki shook her head. "You're not in the dream, Pez," she said. "That's nuts," Sara responded, "If Ian was hurt, I wouldn't leave his side. Unless…," Vicki tried harder to see her friend's face in the dark. "Unless what?" she asked. "Unless something had happened to me too," Sara said bleakThe The tone in her own voice snapped her out of it. "Shit, Pezzini," she thought, "Are you going to give up before the battle even starts? Remember what Ian said – if it's the future, it can be changed. Remember what you told Ian about his vision – someone could be playing Vick to dig at us. Get your head on straight, woman."

Vicki, who had been watching while Sara had a silent argument with herself, asked, "What just happened?" Sara grinned. "I decided that it's all crap," she replied, "Until it's not." Vicki snorted. "Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say," Vicki said, "That 'crap' has been driving me to the edge of lunacy for the past week. The dreams every night and the anxiety attacks every day." "Anxiety attacks?" Sara asked. Vicki ran a hand through her already tangled hair. "For the last week, every waking moment, I've felt this compulsion to find you, be with you when…whatever. I don't know," Vicki continued, "Pez, you know me. I'm a scientist, a relatively rational person, all things considered. At first, I just ignored it. Told myself that I was being illogical. But the need just kept getting stronger until I couldn't stand it any more. Between that and the dreams, by the end of the week, I was ready for the psych ward."

Sara couldn't help it. She'd gone from being royally pissed to getting caught up in Vicki's tale. "So, what did you do?" she asked, "And how the hell did you wind up with Mobius?" At the sound of Hector's name, Vicki smiled. It was a smile that immediately drew Sara into a whole new mode of speculation – which she tucked away for later perusal. "I had no idea how to go about finding you," Vicki said, "You'd made it pretty clear that we were to stay out of the line of fire until this conflagration thing was over." "Convergence," Sara interrupted. "Whatever," Vicki replied, "Anyway, I remembered that Ian had been working with Peter Marx to try to neutralize his conditioning. It was the only lead that I had. I thought Ian might have let something slip about where you guys were going." Sara snorted at the thought of Ian "letting something slip." Vicki nodded. "Yeah, I know," she said, "If I'd been even slightly sane at that point, I'd have realized just how ridiculous that idea was."

"So, I showed up unannounced at Marx's lab at NYU and, lo and behole'se's now working with Mobius," Vicki continued, "Another Black Dragon and also the big guy from my dream." Sara grinned at the picture that was forming in her head. "You didn't just corner Mobius and tell him your story, did you?" she asked. Vicki grinned back, ruefully. "You know me, Pez," she said, "Not exactly shy and retiring. I was also only marginally coherent at that point what with sleep deprivation and raging nerves. This was a man that I'd spent the last five nights with for god's sake. I figured that he was one of the good guys."

"What did he say?" Sara asked. "I believe he said: 'Active evil is better than passive good'," Vicki continued, "Of course, my response to that was: 'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?' It went downhill from there." Sara laughed. "You got a helping of Black Dragon crypto speak," she said, "The metaphor is the meaning." Vicki squinted to peer at her in the darkness and asked, "Huh?" "Nothing," Sara replied, "Sorry, go on." "Well," Vicki said, "It turned out during further conversation – mostly mine – that both Ian and Marx had mentioned me to Mobius, so he knew who I was." Vicki smiled again and Sara lifted an eyebrow. "You could almost see the light go on in those big dark eyes," Vicki added, "'Ah, you are Po, coroner and Wielder-friend, are you not?' he said in that velvet growl of his. So then, we went and had coffee and he listened to my ravings like a perfect gentleman."

"Wielder-friend, huh?" Sara said, "The jury's still out on that one at the moment." Vicki dragged a crumpled cigarette from behind her ear, fished through her trench coat pockets to find matches, and lit it shakily. "C'mon, Pez," she said with a big shit-eating grin, "You know you love me." Sara shook her head. It was hard to stay mad at Vicki for long. "How in the name of all that's holy did you convince Mobius to bring you here?" she asked. "Persistence, luck, and I think he's a little nuts," Vicki said, "But in a really lovable way." When Sara just looked at her, Vicki continued, "I took vacation time from work – I had about three years of it built up – because it was impossible for me to concentrate on anything but finding you. Then, I started to haunt Mobius in the hopes that he'd lead me to you guys. He knew I was there, of course, him being this super-commando type like Ian, but I suspect it amused him to have his orivarivate stalker."

"A couple of times he stopped by my car on his way to some restaurant to ask me if I was hungry," Vicki said, "So, we'd have lunch or dinner. Because he's a great believer in dreams, portents, and all manner of supernatural stuff, he just accepted my dreams and my compulsion that I had to be with you as valid. That made things a lot easier." Vicki stopped to take several puffs of her cigarette. Sara had let her ramble because she was admittedly curious about the relationship between one of her best friends and the man who had tried to kill her. Now, Sara said, "Okay. I understand how you got to know each other. Now I want to know how you got here. This is not a safe place for you to be right now, Vick." "No shit," Vicki replied, "I'm the one who dreamed of scaly things with claws, remember? You don't have to tell me that."

Vicki ground her smoked cigarette into the dirt by the cabin door. "The last couple of days I've been tailing Mobius to Irons' mansion. He was staking out the mansion and I was staking him out. There's been lots of comings and goings of sinister-looking types. I finally had to know what was going on so I just went over and got into Mobius' car with him. I asked him what he thought was going on. He said he believed that Irons was hiring help for a commando raid on guess who," Vicki said, then added, "Hey, Sara?" "What is it, Nancy Dr" Sa" Sara asked. "I'm really cold," Vicki said, using her best whine, "Do you think we can go inside before I tell you the rest of the story?"

"Oh shit – Ian," Sara said, suddenly remembering that he had been hurt. She turned and went in the cabin with Vicky gratefully following her into warmth and light. Glancing in the kitchen, she saw Ian sitting shirtless at the kitchen table with Mobius towering above him. Hector was just placing the last stitches to close the cut on Ian's left arm. Sara went over and touched Ian's cheek. "How are you, baby?" she said. He turned his face to kiss the palm of her hand. "I'm fine," he replied. "Sure you are," Sara said, "We need to tape your ribs." "I can do that," Vicky piped up, "I'm an old hand at taping cracked ribs." Ian smiled in her direction. "Hi, Matey," he said, "If it will throw you off that I'm still breathing, I could hold my breath." Vicky grinned back at him. "No problem, Captain," she said, "I'll make an exception in your case due to the really fine abs." Ian blushed and Sara hid a smile behind her hand, still amused at how easily he could be embarrassed.

"Detective," Mobius said, "Ian suggested that I make some coffee. It is fresh. Would you like a cup?" Sara glanced at Ian, narrowing her eyes at his obvious ploy. Ian shrugged and said, "Moby makes better coffee than I do." Sara's eyes widened. "You're kidding," she said. Ian placed a hand on his bare chest in the general vicinity of his heart. "Would I kid you about coffee?" he asked, horrified at the thought. "Okay, smart ass," she said to Ian. She turned back to Mobius and said, "I'd love a cup of coffee, th. Wo. Would you like one, Vick?" Vicky had just returned to the kitchen carrying a roll of heavy-duty gauze to tape Ian's ribs. She smiled at Mobius and said, "Please."

As Mobius pulled out mugs and poured coffee, Sara realized that the scene in the tiny kitchen with four adults – two of them very big men – was beginning to look like the Marx Brothers stateroom in "Monkey Business." "With the four of us in this tiny cabin for the next six days, Irons may not have to worry about killing us," Sara thought, "We'll probably kill each other and save him the trouble." Sara took her coffee mug and headed to the living room to give Vicky room to tape Ian's ribs. Moby followed her. He immediately moved to the fireplace to rebuild the fire, which was dying out. "Trying to be useful," Sara thought, watching him with narrowed eyes.

Mobius built the fire to a comforting roar then turned to face Sara, who was sitting on the sofa drinking her coffee. He looked at her and spread his hands, obviously uncomfortable. "Detective Pezzini," he said, "Last time you and I met we were trying to kill each other. I know that you will not understand the imperative that I was under at the time. Sinister forces were controlling Ian and, through him, me. That time is past and Ian and I have reconciled. We are again brothers. I also hope that you and I can put aside our differences – if only temporarily – and join together as warriors for the light." Sara shrugged and said, "Okay, I'm game. We need your help." "I will not fail you," Mobius intoned in his rich bass, "'A dead body avenges not injuries'." Sara fought the urge to yell for Ian. Instead, she just raised one eyebrow. "Right," she replied, "And the cock crows at midnight." Moby frowned, confused. Sara smiled.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Vicki carefully wound gauze around Ian's chest while he sat, arms above his head. She added another tight layer and he winced. "So," he said, "You and Moby are an item, huh?" "Whoa, Captain, furl those sails and drop anchor," Vicki replied, "You're moving way too fast." She stepped behind him to tie off the gauze. "Did he say that?" Ian heard her add in a whisper. He smiled. "He's never been very talkative. We were all trained to keep our emotions in check," Ian said, "Sorry. It was my assumption. You seem so comfortable together." "Do we?" she asked. He nodded. Nothing happened for a moment or two. Finally, Ian asked, "Are we done?" When he didn't get an answer, Ian turned his head to find Vicki's eyes fixed on some distant landscape. "Vicki?" he said. She came back abruptly and now a light flush colored her cheeks. Ian smiled and asked again, "Are we done?" "Oh, yeah," she replied, "You're all set." "Thanks," he said, grabbing his shirt and heading toward the living room. "You bet," Vicki absently replied to empty air, lost in thought. She sat down at the kitchen table to drink her coffee, eyes distant.

When Ian came back into the living room, Sara looked immensely relieved. She patted the sofa beside her and Ian sat down. She gently stroked his taped chest. "How are you, baby?" she asked. "I'm good," he said, "Vicky wrapped me really tight and there's hardly any pain at all." She started to get up, saying, "You should take some aspirin," but he caught her hand to hold her there. "Later," he said, "Moby and I should go clean up outside." She looked at him quizzically. "We can't just leave all those bodies lying around for the wild life," he explained, "They need to be buried." She tucked a stray curl behind his ear and said, "Do you have to do that tonight? Can't you get some rest and do that tomorrow? You're hurt." His mouth started to open and she said fiercely, "Don't you dare tell me you're fine, Ian Nottingham." His mouth snapped shut again.

Mobius cleared his throat. "I can do it alone, Ian," he said, "Just give me a map so that I can find your kills." Ian frowned and said, "Don't be silly. I'm perfectly alright." Sara frowned right back and said, "Take the man up on his offer or Vicki may need to provide you with additional medical attention." Ian sighed. "I'll draw that map," he said, pulling his notebook and pen from the end table. Sara turned to Moby and said, "Thanks." She was startled when he actually smiled. It made him look far less forbidding.

"You might want to bring back the thing you find under the tree I was in so that Lazar can take a look at it tomorrow," she said, "We can stash it in the shed out back until he's done with it." She turned to Ian and asked, "What do you think?" Ian raised his head from the beautifully detailed map he was drawing. "I think that's a great idea," he said, "If there's one, there's bound to be more. We should know what we're up against." Moby inclined his head. "I will do as you ask," he said. Finished, Ian tore the map from his notebook and handed the page to Moby, who glanced at it and nodded. Mobius started toward the cabin door, then turned back. "I hope that by bringing Po here I have not caused dissension," he said, "I believe that it is her destiny to play a part in the Convergence." He smiled again and spread one enormous hand. "I have learned that it is unwise to fly in the face of destiny," he added. With that, he turned and left the cabin to bury the dead.

When Mobius was gone, Sara turned to Ian. He was shifting on the sofa trying to get comfortable. He suddenly pressed a hand to his side, wincing. At almost the same moment, he felt her gaze. Their eyes met and he dropped his hand from his side as if it had been burnt. "Uh huh," she said, "I wonder if Vicki brought anything stronger than aspirin with her." "Sara…, he began. She frowned and said, "Can it, bub." Ian also knew when to shut up. He let her fuss with making him comfortable. Before she went to the kitchen to see what Vicki had in her little black bag, Sara pointed one long finger at him – now stretched out and tucked in under the throw – and said, "Stay." "Yes, maam," Ian replied sheepishly.

Vicki was still sitting at the kitchen table. She was now on her second mug of coffee. Sara glanced at the pot and poured the last of the coffee into her mug before she sat down across from Vicki. "Did you bring a medical bag with you, Vick?" Sara asked. Vicki nodded. "Sure," she said, "That's the reason that I'm here, remember?" "Got any pain killers stronger than aspirin?" Sara asked. Vicki nodded again, then asked, "Ian?" "Yeah," Sara replied, "Of course, he won't admit that he's in any pain, but he is. Can you give him something that'll knock him on that beautiful ass so that he can get a decent night's sleep?" Vicki grinned. "Absolutely," she said, "By the way, the abs aren't half bad either." Sara's lips twitched. "Damn straight," she said, "If the man wasn't such a visual delight, I'd have had to kill him long ago because he drives me so crazy." "I think that's called love," Vicki said. Sara just snorted and took another sip of Moby's excellent coffee.

"So," Sara said, "You never finished telling me how you got Mobius ting ing you with him to the cabin." Vicki shrugged. "Dumb luck and sheer persistence, as I think I said," Vicki replied, "I was going nuts all day today, really antsy. Whatever's been hammering at me to get to you all week went into high gear. I couldn't sit still so I drove over to the lab and parked, waiting for Mobius to come out so that I could tail him." Sara made a rude sound and said, "Pretty soon you'll be wanting to trade in your white coat for a gun." "Nah," Vicki said, "That's where I draw the line. I may work with the dead but I have no desire to provide my own clients. Anyway, when he came out, he drove over to the mansion just like he has the last couple of nights. Last night, though, it was obvious right away that something big was going down."

Sara tried to hide her smile inside her coffee mug but Vicki caught it. "What?" she asked. "Nothing," Sara smirked, "You're starting to sound like Mickey Spillane, that's all." "Ha ha," Vicki said sourly, "Do you want me to continue or does my colorful verbiage offend you too much." Still smirking, Sara waved a regal hand for her to go on. "So, anyway, as I started to say, there were lots of comings and goings," Vicki continued, "I wanted to know what he thought, so I went over and got into Mobius' car." Sara's eyes narrowed. "He wasn't pissed?" she asked. "Nah," Vicki said, "He's used to me by now. Actually, I think he was kind of expecting me." "How do you know that?" Sara asked. "He'd stopped to get some coffee on the way to the mansion. It was part of his usual routine so I just waited in my car for him to get moving again," Vicki said, "Well, when I got in his car, he handed me the coffee that he'd picked up for me." Sara chortled. "Vicky Po, Super Sleuth," she said.

"Okay, okay. Have your fun, Pez," Vicki replied, "Mobius was cool about it. He just said: 'Your coffee, Po' – as if we were stakeout partners. So, I asked him what he thought about all the activity going on at Irons' place. He said he suspected that they were preparing for a late night raid on the cabin." Vicki tipped up her mug, finishing her coffee. "Storytelling is thirsty work," she thought, "Especially with this audience." Vicki smiled winningly and spread her hands. "I figured he'd be close behind the raiding party and that it was time to make my pitch," she said, "I gave him my spiel. I admitted that I didn't understand what the hell was compelling me to join you at the cabin. But, I added, I was now convinced that I was meant to be part of whatever was going to happen there. I was just getting ready to really wheedle when he absolutely floored me by saying in that quiet way of his: 'I agree.' My mouth must have dropped open because it made him smile."

Sara shook her head. "I don't understand any of this," she said, "But, then again,t'st's been the case for a long time now. Maybe I should just quit trying." Vicki nodded. "I know the feeling," she replied, "Anyway, Mobius told me to get what I needed from my car. So, I went and got my suitcase and medical bag, and here I am." Sara just looked at her friend for a moment. "You packed a suitcase?" she asked. Vicki blushed. "I HAD to get here, Sara," she said, "I'm pretty determined when I make up my mind. I don't give up easily. I figured I'd manage it one way or another. Well, damn it, I'd need clothes, pajamas, a toothbrush, wouldn't I? Stop laughing."

"Ah, Vick," Sara said, "You really are a piece of work." Vicky automatically reached behind her ear for a cigarette, realized she'd already smoked it, and frowned. "Look who's talking," she replied, "Ms. Demon Goddess Scourge of the Universe, herself." "Yeah," Sara said, "Well, this Scourge of the Universe is beat. I'm going to sort out the sleeping arrangements and take Ian to bed. We can decide what to do about you in the morning." "Fuck that," Vicki said, "Now that I'm here, I'm staying." "In the morning, Vick," Sara repeated. "Oh, I get it," Vicki replied, "You're going to punish me by keeping me in suspense all night, right?" Sara had to grin. "Shit," Sara said, "Busted. You just know me too well, don't you, you little weasel." Vicki smirked knowingly.

"Okay, okay," Sara said, "You can stay. I guess you won't mind sleeping with Mobius in the living room. Right?" Vicki's eyes got as big as saucers. "I didn't mean together, Vick," Sara said, "Unless that's what you want, of course." Vicki was suddenly flustered. "No," she said quickly, "I don't want any such thing. Where would you get such an idea?" "Uh huh," Sara said, getting up to go back to the living room, "Come along then, Ms. Over Denial, you can help me create our new guest room." Vicki trailed Sara into the living room, bumping into her back because Sara had stopped just inside the doorway. Ian was asleep on the sofa. He was on his back with his right arm thrown up above his head. He'd never gotten around to putting his shirt back on and his hair had come loose, fanning out in waves around his peaceful face. The throw had slipped to below his hips. He was bathed in firelight.

"Wow," Vicki whispered, amused at the naked lust on Sara's face, "Shiver me timbers, but that is definitely prime booty." "Smart ass," Sara whispered back, "I love him for his mind." Vicki's grin widened. "Of course," she whispered, "I'm sure that he's got one of those too." Sara shook her head. "Actually, he does," she whispered, "That's part of what makes the whole package so damn devastating." Vicki softly cleared her throat and asked, "I imagine having guests will cramp your style a bit, huh?" Sara grinned wolfishly and replied, "We'll manage. C'mon into the bedroom and help me move the featherbed in here. I figure we'll put Mobius on the featherbed in front of the fire and you on the sofa." "How come he gets the featherbed?" Vicki pouted. "Because he's too big to fit on the sofa comfortably," Sara replied, "It barely holds Ian and Mobius is bigger. Of course, you could always share the featherbed with him if you prefer." Sara smiled while Vicki blushed. "Cut it out, Pez," Vicki said, "The sofa will be fine. Were you planning on leaving Ian there as a throw pillow?" Sara snorted. "In your dreams, Po," she replied.

The two of them dragged the featherbed out of the bedroom and situated it on the floor between the sofa and chair. Sara went back to the bedroom for one of the quilts and an extra pillow. When she deposited those on the featherbed, Mobius' "bedroom" was complete. "Will you be okay on the sofa with the throw pillows and the throw?" Sara asked, "Do you need another cover?" Vicki smirked and looked pointedly at Ian sprawled gracefully across the sofa. Sara gave her a look and sat on the edge of the sofa. She gently pushed gold-streaked locks back off his forehead and whispered, "Baby, wake up. We need to move you to the bedroom." Ian made a soft sound, then stretched and opened drowsy amber eyes. "Hi," he purred, "I was dreaming about you." "Were you?" Sara asked, running her fingers through his hair.

"Ummm," Ian replied sleepily, starting to slide one warm hand up her back under her sweatshirt, "We were on a beach and you were doing that…," "I'm putting Vicky here on the sofa and Mobius on the featherbed by the fire," Sara said. It took a moment but then it sunk in. His eyes widened, fire-lit golden and fully awake, and his hand stopped its lazy exploration of her back to return to his side. Sara saw his focus shift to behind her. "Hey, Vicki," he said, "I guess you'd like your bed. As you can see, it's very comfortable." Vicki just said, "Thanks." She'd thought briefly about teasing him that he could just stay there, but she wasn't as sure of his sense of playfulness as she was of Sara's.

Ian swung his long legs over the side of the sofa and sat up. Sara shifted to make him room. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "Is Moby back yet?" Sara shook her head. "Maybe I should wait up until he gets back to let him know where to sleep," he suggested. "I can do that," Vicki jumped in. She saw Sara and Ian exchange a quick look, and the color rose in her cheeks again. "Sure, that would be great," Ian replied, "I'm still half asleep anyway. If he needs help with anything, just knock on our door. Okay?" "Okay," Vicki said.

Ian got up, nodding to Vicki, and headed into the bedroom, saying, "Goodnight, then. See you in the morning." Vicki raised a hand and said, "Night, Ian." The bedroom door closed behind him. Sara stood and looked at Vicki. "Do you have everything you need?" she asked. "If that's a metaphysical question, it's too damn early in the morning," Vicki replied. Sara grinned. "Shit, Vick," she said, "I'm glad you're here." Vicki grinned back and said, "Me too, Pez, I think." "If you get too tired, I don't really think you need to wait up," Sara said, "Mobius has a genius I.Q. I think he can find the featherbed. Night, Vick." "Night, Pez," Vicky replied.