Breathing Space

When Sara closed the bedroom door and turned around, Ian was sitting on the edge of the bed. His face was flushed and he looked frustrated. She immediately saw the problem. With his broken ribs, he couldn't bend over to take off his boots and socks. He sighed, frustrated. "It was so much easier when my injuries didn't last," he said. "I know, baby," she replied, kneeling at his feet, "But look at all the other stuff you gained when the Witchblade healed you." She pulled off his boots and socks, pushing them under the bed. She rubbed his bare feet in her hands and ran her hands up his legs to his thighs. Squeezing his thighs and wiggling her eyebrow, Sara said, "Now, stand up so that I can get you out of those pants too."

"I can do that," Ian said. "But why would you want to?" Sara asked, playing with the elastic waist of his sweatpants suggestively. He stood. "You talked me into it," he said. Sara caught the bands of both his sweatpants and briefs under her thumbs and pulled them down over his narrow hips, letting them drop to the floor. Ian stepped out of them, and she bent to pick them up and toss them on to the chair. When she straightened up again, she moved in close to him, naked now except for the white gauze wrapped around his ribs and the bandage on his left shoulder. She studied him critically. "You've got some spectacular new bruises forming," she said. He shrugged and said, "That's inevitable with hand-to-hand combat." "So," she asked, leering, "You up for a little more hand to whatever?"

She put her arms around him, sliding her hands down his back to rest one on each firm cheek. She began to knead hard muscle under silken skin. Ian shut his eyes and buried his face in her hair. His hands moved up her arms to rest on her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "Not up yet but well on my way," he whispered into hairhair, "This would feel much better if you got rid of those clothes." "That's easily fixed," she replied. She stepped back for a moment to quickly pull off her shirt and pants and toss them to the chair with his. She immediately moved back to her former position and activity. Pressing against him, she felt his now full erection against her. "That's come along nicely," she said.

Sara kissed his chest and said, "You should lay down now, honey. You're so tired that you're shaking." She felt his soft laugh against her cheek. "Being tired has nothing to do with it," he said. One of her hands had strayed from his bottom down between his legs, where it squeezed and stroked his testicles. "But I think I do need to lay down before my knees give out. That feels so good," he breathed. She let go of him and Ian stretched out on the bed, holding out his arms to her. She snuggled next to him, pulling the quilts up over them both. Sara raised up over him, careful not to lean against his chest, but pullpulled her down against him. "The broken ribs are on the right side," he said, "Get as close here as you want. Please." So, she trailed the fingers of her left hand slowly from his belly to his groin while she rested her body against the left side of his chest.

As she leaned in to kiss him, Sara said, "Unless we want a very embarrassing breakfast tomorrow, we better keep a lid on the noise that we make tonight." Before he met her lips, Ian said, "Oh." "Uh huh," she responded, "Hadn't thought of that, had?" ?" "No," he said, adding, "Shit." Sara snorted. "Listen to you, gutter mouth," she whispered affectionately, "Are you ever going to kiss me or are you just going to swear?" He reached out a hand to catch her behind the neck and to pull her mouth to his. Caught off balance, she leaned heavily against him, kissing him hard. He responded in kind, pushing his tongue between her lips to explore her tongue, teeth, and anything else he could reach. All the pent up excitement, fear, and tension of the night got channeled into that kiss and it quickly became torrid.

When they came up for air, Sara said, "Wow. I'm certainly glad that no one punched you in the mouth," her voice shaky. He didn't answer, just zeroed in for another hot kiss, pulling her even closer against him. Her hand brushed past gauze to touch warm smooth skin and continued down until it pushed through soft, thick hair. As her fingers closed around him and stroked hard, Ian's body stiffened just slightly. It was barely a movement, but it was enough to alert Sara that she'd caused him pain. She pulled back from his kiss and asked breathlessly, "Did someone play dirty and abuse the family jewels? Are you hurt? Do you want me to stop?" Ian's hand covered hers, keeping it locked around him. The image of Witchblade Sara riding him to climax skittered across Ian's mind before he could push it away. "In a manner of speaking," he replied to her first question, then added, "It's not that bad and I definitely don't want you to stop." To emphasize his last point, Ian moved their joined hands in the stroking motion that she'd stopped.

Sara chuckled and shook off his hand. "It's okay, baby," she said, "I know how to do it the way you like it." "Yes, you certainly do," he agreed, his breathing becoming ragged. Ian attempted to lean down to caress her breast but drew in his breath sharply when the pain in his side grabbed him like a vise. Sara stopped what she was doing again to gently push him back down flat. "Stop, Ian," she said, "Let's make tonight 'Nottingham Appreciation Night,' okay? Tonight, just let me give you pleasure. You're job is to lie there quietly and bear it." The stars at the edge of his vision were receding slowly. "Giving you pleasure is no chore for me, Sara," he said, "It's a joy. I love it when I can excite you." "You can excite me again tomorrow, ace," she replied, "Tonight, you need to rest that beautiful, banged up body of yours. Okay?" "Okay," he said reluctantly.

"That's my baby," Sara said. She kissed his collarbone and ran her hand slowly back down his smooth, hard belly to his groin. She grasped his waning erection in her hand and picked up the long, hard stroke that she knew drove him crazy. At the same time, she nuzzled him under his chin until he raised his head. She started to lick and nip the hot spot on his neck. Ian's head pushed back into the pillow and his right hand clutched the sheet until his knuckles turned white. A deep aching groan issued from the back of his throat and he quickly turned his head on the pillow to try to muffle the sound. Sara shook her head ruefully, already knowing that Vicki would be teasing her unmercifully about this tomorrow.

Still stroking him, Sara pushed up a little to recapture Ian's lips. They parted immediately to welcome and engage her probing tongue. His breath was coming in hot little pants against her lips. She slid her fingernails down the underside of him and across his balls and Ian's hips arched up off the mattress. The cry that was torn from him was muted by their kiss but Sara flinched a little. They broke the kiss, both of them gasping for breath. Ian said, "I'm sorry about the noise," his voice husky with passion. "Don't worry about it, baby," she reassured him. Her fingers slowly rubbed the sensitive head of his shaft, using the drops that waccuaccumulating there as a lubricant. She felt him start to tremble beneath her. "Oh god," he moaned softly, "Sara, please, please. I want to be inside you. Now."

Sara carefully straddled his hips. She was worried about hurting him and didn't want to put any strain on the broken ribs. She leaned forward, putting her right hand on his left shoulder to hold her weight. She took his pulsing erection in her left hand and rubbed it against her. That action drew soft groans from both of them. She kept up the motion and, in seconds, felt her warm gush of arousal. "Hurry," Ian whispered, voice tight. Still holding his engorged shaft in her hand, Sara raised her hips a little and guided him inside her. She settled back down, pushing him deep inside her. Simultaneously, Ian arched his hips up to thrust even further within her.

Sara leaned forward to place her hands on the pillow, one on either side of Ian's head. She tightened her inner muscles around him and began to ride. Now that she was leaning over him, Ian could easily reach her breasts. He ran his warm hands up her sides and tweaked the nipples on both her breasts, rolling and rubbing them erotically between his skillful fingers. Sara cried out at the sensation he created and pushed down on him harder. Ian met her again, lifting his hips to thrust himself even deeper inside her. Their eyes met and they froze as they both realized at the same moment that the bed was making loud utterly recognizable noises. "Fuck it," Ian gasped softly, arching his hips up off the bed to thrust into her again, "I want you too much to stop now." Sara laughed and responded to his need with her own. "I want you too," she said.

Their pace soon became frantic as the impending release of an orgasm drove them. Sara bent further forward to kiss Ian deeply, lightly nipping his full lower lip as their mouths parted. Ian's breathing had become labored and Sara worried that his pleasure might be mixed with an equal dose of pain. Her eyes were drawn to the Witchblade, a swirling kaleidescope of scarlet and magenta on her wrist. In a sudden flash of inspiration, Sara wondered whether the Witchblade might heal Ian if they merged with it while making love. "It's worth a try," she thought. "Baby," she said breathily, still straining against him, "Put your arm across your chest so that I can touch the Witchblade to Excalibur; maybe it will heal you."

Ian's hands had moved back to Sara's waist to help her rock against him. Now, he shoved his right hand back down on the bed beside him, as far away from Sara's bracelet as he was able to get it. "No, thanks," he managed. She said, panting, "Don't be silly. Hurry up. We're really close here. Let's take advantage of this while we can." Ian shut his eyes. Sara could feel part of him withdrawing from her. His body was still moving right along with hers, building toward their climax, but he'd pulled some essential piece of him away from her. "Please just let it go," he whispered, "I don't want to do it." Sara frowned, not understanding his reluctance. "Ian…," she started.

Ian wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over on the bed. He ignored the agonizing pain that ripped through his side and the stitches that tore in his arm as he put his weight on it to balance above her. Now, in the dominant position, he rammed himself into her hard and fast, effectively eliminating any further discussion. Sara wrapped her legs around his hips, arching up against him. His sudden assault on her senses had driven all coherent thought from her mind, just as he'd intended. "Oh, god, Ian," she cried, as he managed to hit that sensitive spot within her again and again. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood. Ian was lost in a haze that was not unfamiliar to him; it was a place where pain and pleasure merged together into a delicious and twisted need for release. It was a landscape that he had traveled often with Kenneth Irons.

Fortunately, both for Ian's battered body and Sara's stimulated senses, the level of intensity that they'd reached could not be maintained for very long. Sara tried desperately to stifle the full-throated cry that emerged from her as an orgasm picked her up, shook her, and tossed her back down. She partially succeeded by pressing her face into Ian's hot, sweat-slicked shoulder. It was still very loud. Ian's climax was just as devastating, but it was silent because part of him had regressed to that time when crying out meant receiving a harder blow. In the aftermath, they both went limp. Ian managed to roll to Sara's side but not to cushion his landing. This time, the jolting pain in his side made him expel his breath in a soft cry.

Once blood was circulating to her brain again, Sara immediately turned over and sat up to check on Ian. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing with some difficulty, wheezing a little. "Shit," Sara said, "What's the matter with me? We never should have done that. Hang on, baby, I'll go get Vicki." Before she could get out of the bed, Ian caught her arm and held on. When his breathing had eased a bit, he said, "Please don't bother Vicki. It's not as bad as it looks. One stitch broke and my arm's bleeding a little but it's nothing serious. It can be stitched up again and rebandaged in the morning. My ribs are no worse off than they were. If I just lay still for a while, the pain will ease and I'll be fine." She still looked worried and fussed over him, brushing his sweaty locks back off his forehead. "Are you sure?" she asked, "You're always so damn stoic that I never know when you're telling me the truth about this stuff. I'm sure that Vick wouldn't mind checking you out."

In the dim light coming through the window, she could see that his long, beautifully sculpted body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made it seem to glow in the moonlight. A fleeting image of Michelangelo's David passed through her mind. "Actually," Sara said smiling, "I'm sure Vicki would be thrilled to check you out considering the way you look at the moment." "What do you mean?" he asked. She k hek her head. Sara knew that he had no concept of how beautiful he was and the effect that he had on women. "Nothing," she replied, leaning down to place a kiss on his shoulder. She was relieved to see that his breathing was starting to even out and sound more normal. "Okay," she said, "I won't get Vicki now, but I really do want her to take a good look at both your arm and ribs in the morning." He nodded agreement.

Sara grabbed a towel that she'd carried in from the bathroom earlier in the day off the nightstand. She gently started to wipe Ian's skin dry. He shut his eyes and sighed, relaxing against her stroking hand. "Are you trying to get mertedrted all over again?" he asked. "No, I'm not," she responded, "So keep your libido in check. I just don't want you to catch a chill." Sara tried to avoid sensitive places but rubbing rough terry over his nipples and groin soon had Ian's breathing getting erratic again. He rolled on to his left side and slipped his fingers between Sara's legs. As much as it pained her to do it, she slapped his hand away. "Not a chance, ace," she said, "No more rolling around for you tonight. You're going to go to sleep right now." "C'mon, detective," he said, "I just got my second wind." "Oh, yeah?" she replied, "Well, you can use it to cool down that overactive sex drive of yours, hot shot." "Overactive?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Yes," she said, "But in a delful ful way. Now go to sleep." She leaned over to pitch the towel back on the nightstand and, by the time she turned back, he was snuggled down in the quilts already half asleep. She shook her head, marveling at how quickly he was able to switch gears. Then, she cuddled up against him, carefully avoiding his injuries, and shut her eyes.

Meanwhile, in another part of the cabin, Mobius had returned not long after Sara and Ian had retired to the bedroom. Vicki had already changed into a pair of practical flannel pajamas and she was curled up in the corner of the sofa closest to the fire, wrapped in the throw. She heard him coming before he opened the cabin door. Vicki suspected that this was for her benefit, to give her fair warning, because she figured that Mobius was probably stealthy as a stalking cat when he chose to be. Although she'd known the man now for almost a week, she still unconsciously caught her breath whenever he entered a room. He had such presence. He shut the cabin door and turning to her, formally inclined his head and said, "Po," in that low rumble. Vicki inclined her head in return and just as formally said, "Mobius." He turned into the kitchen and she heard the refrigerator door open and close. He came back into the living room carrying an opened bottle of water.

Mobius sat in the chair trying to avoid stepping on the featherbed with his muddy boots. Vicki indicated the featherbed with her hand and said, "That's yours. Do you need another quilt or will one be enough?" She saw a brief flash of very whteetteeth. "One will be sufficient I am sure," he replied, "Have Ian and his lady retired?" Vicki nodded. "Just a little while ago," she said, "You must be exhausted from dealing with…" She stopped short, not wanting to say: "all those people you and Ian killed." It sounded too accusatory to her inner ear and that wasn't how she meant it. Although Vicki was basically pacifistic in nature, she knew that she'd landed in a situation that was miles away from her rational, everyday world.

Mobius nodded gravely. "I built a great fire in the middle of the clearing and sent the ashes of his warriors to our enemy," he said, "The beastie I brought back and put in the shed." Vicki's eyes went wide. "Beastie?" she asked hesitantly. "It was not from our world – some kind of demon by its look. I believe that there must be pockets opening between the dimensions as the Convergence nears and this creature came through such an opening," he replied, "We must be vigilant. There could be others." Vicki looked wildly at the dark corners of the cabin as if she was expecting a horned imp to leap from them at any moment. Mobius' deep laugh calmed her. "I would not allow such a thing to harm you, Po," he said, "Though supernatural, they can be killed by common means. The Wielder shot this one between the eyes, an excellent shot under difficult conditions." This was a topic that she knew something about. After all, she'd done autopsies on many of Sara's victims.

"Yeah," Vicki replied, warming to her subject, "Sara's a great shot. She's got magic hands." At that moment, Ian's deep, obviously sexual groan traveled clearly to the living room, where it hung in the still air. Vicki ducked her head, the color rising in her cheeks. Moby glanced toward the bedroom and said, "I will go now and take a shower. I have gotten dirty disposing of the dead." Vicki nodded. "Good plan," she mumbled, "I'll say goodnight now in case I'm already asleep when you get back." Moby stood and nodded back. "Goodnight, Po," he said, already on his way to the bathroom. Before he could shut the door, there was another soft cry from Ian. Vicki heard Mobius clear his throat and firmly shut the bathroom door. Vicki rested her flaming face on a throw pillow. "Jeez, guys," she mumbled to herself, "Get a room." Then, she had to laugh about the absurdity of the whole situation. Here they were, the four of them, stuck in a two-room cabin for a week waiting for the world to end. "Why the hell shouldn't Sara and Ian fuck like bunnies," she thought a bit enviously, "It's what I'd do in their place."

Another couple of soft moans – this time both Ian and Sara, Vicky thought – were followed by what sounded like the bed trying to break its way free of the cabin and escape to the woods. Added to all that was the sound of the shower now going full blast. "Why did I feel compelled to come here again?" Vicki wondered, scrunching down into the sofa and drawing a throw pillow around her ears. She'd just about managed to drift off to sleep when Sara's wild orgasmic cry woke her again. Vicki punched the throw pillow and resettled herself, thinking sourly, "I'll have what she's having," picturing the famous lunch scene in "When Harry Met Sally."

"Wow," Vicki thought, beginning to drift off again, "If he can make Pez yell like that as banged up as he is, I really got to get me one of them." At that moment, light fell across the living room when the bathroom door opened. It was quickly extinguished. Mobius came into the living room borne on a cloud of steam wafting from the bathroom. Vicki, who was pretending to be asleep, slitted one eye carefully. He came into her line of vision, very tall and spectacularly muscled, wearing boxer shorts and a tee shirt. Moving like a big cat, he knelt by the fireplace to freshen the fire. When that was finished, he crawled into the featherbed, covering himself with the quilt. It must have been comfortable because he stretched that whole lithe muscled body and gave a deep sigh. Vicki watched him settle himself. He threw one long arm above his head, contours etched in firelight, and shut his eyes. Her last thought before sleep took her was only a speculative sound echoing in her head: "Hmmmmm."

As was his habit, Ian woke the next morning while it was still dark. He turned over on his left side to face Sara who still slept curved against him. He could feel her warm breath against his bare shoulder. He gently brushed back some locks of golden brown hair that had fallen across her forehead in sleep. Ian wondered if he'd ever get used to the joy of sharing a bed with her. Some mornings, he'd just lie there for a long time watching Sara sleep, awed that they were so close. Augh ugh he'd discovered the sensualist in himself with Sara, Ian loved the intimacy of their relationship as much if not more than the sex – which was saying quite a lot because he loved to make love with her. He couldn't imagine ever getting used to it and taking it for granted. It was still a miracle to him that she wanted him, loved him. After all, she had barely tolerated his presence in her life for such a long time.

Leaning over, he very carefully pressed a soft kiss against her now exposed forehead. Ian didn't want to wake her but he needed to touch her. Pulling back, he brushed away wisps of Sara's honey brown hair that were drawn to his own face by static electricity. He smiled then, thinking that the electricity that naturally charged their relationship was anything but static. Of their own volition, his fingertips reached out to stroke her collarbone, just where the first rays of morning light were shadowing it. A breath away, he forced himself to pull back his hand, knowing that if he didn't stop this he would wake her. Ian sighed, getting his body back under control with some difficulty. He wanted her. "But then, I always want her," he thought, "It must be that 'overactive sex drive' that I didn't even know I had." He chuckled softly and shook his head, bemused that he had metamorphosed from virgin to libertine in a couple of very eventful months.

Moving carefully so as not to wake Sara, Ian eased out of bed. He picked the sweatpants that Sara had removed from him the night before up off the chair. They were caked with dirt, sweat, and both his own and his victims' dried blood. Dangling them fastidiously from two fingers, Ian wrinkled his nose in disgust. There was no way that he could put them back on. He dropped the soiled pants into a wicker basket that they were using as a laundry hamper. It was almost full. He made a mental note to do laundry sometime that day. Sara had many wonderful qualities but homemaking was definitely not one of them. She would only cook, clean, or do laundry when all other options had been exhausted. Ian, on the other hand, liked to take care of things before they became a problem. He liked to keep the mundane part of their lives running smoothly because so much of their existence seemed to be preordained, out of their control. Besides, she hated housework and he didn't mind it. It was a little gift that he could give her.

Ian quietly eased opened the jammed drawer that contained his casual clothes and underwear. He had one dresser drawer to Sara's four. He frowned. The drawer contained one pair of torn jeans; everything else was in the laundry basket. Normally, torn jeans weren't a problem but these jeans had been at the bottom of the pile because they were torn in a very inconvenient place, especially when he had no briefs to go under them. He sighed. It was the jeans or the filthy sweatpants, and he knew he couldn't bring himself to put those back on.

He pulled on the jeans with some difficulty. They were tight too. "I'll just have to try not to turn my back on Vicki," he thought, feeling air moving freely across the bottom of one taut butt cheek. He reached back a hand to try to judge the level of exposure. "Damn," he said softly, annoyed because he hadn't done laundry the day before as he'd intended. Ian quietly rummaged through the laundry basket looking for a pair of briefs that were clean enough to wear under the jeans. One of the interesting aspects of his steamy relationship with Sara was that almost all of his underwear was stiff with the results of his arousal when he threw it into the laundry basket. Ian sighed again. No luHe sHe shut his eyes briefly, feeling heat rise to his face in anticipation of Vicki's teasing remarks. Between his groans last night and his jeans this morning, Ian knew he was dead meat.

He pulled a couple of empty pillowcases from the laundry basket and stuffed the dirty laundry inside them. "Maybe I can get the laundry done before Vicki wakes up," he thought. In spite of his movements around the bedroom, Sara was still out like a light. Her body was now curled around his pillow, her usual substitute for Ian. He once again fought the urge to touch her. He'd actually taken two steps back toward the bed before he stopped himself. Instead, he carefully opened the bedroom door, pulled out his improvised laundry bags, and shut the door behind him, immediately turning his back toward the closed door – just in case. He needn't have bothered. From where he stood, Ian could see Vicki still asleep on the sofa. She lay on her back with one arm thrown across her face, hi her her eyes, and her mouth slightly open.

Ian breathed a cautious sigh of relief. He stealthily crossed the living room, noting that the featherbed had been put away and the fire had been refreshed. Even though she was snoring softly, Ian kept his back to Vicki all tay tay to the kitchen. Mobius was pouring fresh water into the coffeemaker. Two mugs of steaming herb tea sat on the kitchen table. Ian looked at Moby and lifted an eyebrow. "You were moving t tht the bedroom like a crippled ox, my brother. I surmised that you would soon be in the kitchen for your morning tea," Mobius whispered his reply to the unspoken question. Ian smiled, suddenly realizing how much he had missed his friend. "Make a lot of coffee," Ian said softly, "Both Sara and Vicki consider it lifeblood in the morning." Mobius nodded. "As you say," he replied, "I shall fill this container and make a second pot before they waken." "Good," Ian said, angling past him with difficulty in the tiny kitchen to reach the washer.

As Ian dumped dirty clothes in the washer, Mobius pointedly cleared his throat. Ian turned his head to see a broad grin on Moby's face. "What?" Ian asked. "I was not aware that an eclipse had been predicted," Moby chuckled, "But it appears that the moon has made an early appearance this day." Ian blushed and clapped a hand to the back of his jeans. "Shit," he said, "I forgot already. That's why I'm trying to get this laundry done before Vicki wakes up. I don't have anything else clean to wear." Moby pushed the button to start the coffee brewing and sat back down at the table, sipping his tea. "Being a physician, I feel certain that Po has seen this portion of the human anatomy before, Ian," Moby said, "I do not believe that she will be struck blind with awe at the sight."

"Not this human's anatomy, she hasn't," Ian replied, "And I know that she's aly goy going to give Sara and me grief over the noise that we made last night. I don't want to give her any extra ammunition." Moby's grin got even broader. "In truth, I was grateful to see you appear at the kitchen door this morning, my brother," Moby said, "For, so great were your cries, that I had some fears that the Wielder may have killed you last night." Ian snorted. "Okay, okay," he said, "I'm not used to having to censor myself because of an audience. I'm not even sure that I can. When I'm with Sara, nothing else exists." Moby tipped his head, his expression growing pensive. "This union that you have with the Wielder," he said, "It is worth all your years of enforced celibacy then? It was worth the wait?" Ian's golden eyes glowed like smoldering embers, reflecting his absolute love for Sara. "Being with Sara is worth any price," he replied, "I'd do anything, be anything, to keep her love."

A warm smile suddenly replaced Moby's worried frown. His large, dark eyes shimmered with an indecipherable look that immediately filled Ian with curiosity. "Good morning, Po," Moby rumbled. Ian shifted around on his chair. Vicki Po stood in the kitchen doorway, looking like a ten-year old in flannel pajamas, tousled hair, and bare feet. "Morning," she murmured, rubbing sleepy eyes. "Ian, give Po your chair," Mobius said, "Whilst I get her coffee." "Coffee?" Vicki replied, showing a spark of life. Ian was half way off his chair before a draft reminded him of the tear in his jeans. He quickly sat back down, flashing a dirty look at Mobius who was grinning widely. "Very funny," Ian said.

Vicki, ever quick on the pickup, glanced from one man to the other. "Did I miss something?" she asked. "I hope so," grumbled Ian, "Just go ahead and sit in Moby's chair, Vicki, since he's already up." She frowned, walking past Ian to sit across from him in the empty chair. Moby put a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, then leaned his long body back against the kitchen counter. As she reached for the mug blindly, both men said, "Careful, it's hot." Vicki laughed, delighted. "Pinky link," she said. Now, both men looked first at Vicki, then at each other, confused. Ian shrugged. "I haven't a clue," he said to Moby. "Jeez, where did you guys grow up?" she asked, taking a slow sip of Moby's excellent coffee, "Didn't you ever link pinkies goodgood luck when two people say the same thing? You have to do it. It's bad luck if you don't."

"She's absolutely right," a new voice mumbled from the kitchen doorway, "You can't avoid a required pinky link without courting disaster." Ian turned his head to see Sara standing in the kitchen doorway in her ratty old bathrobe, also with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. "Coffee?" she added. Mobius swiveled back to the carafe to pour her a cup and Ian rose to give her his seat. Sara's eyes widened. "Whoa, baby," she said, "This is convenient. Giving me a treat with my morning coffee?" Ian had carefully stayed facing Vicki but his back was to Sara. Sara slipped her hand into his torn jeans and stroked his warm, bare cheek seductively. Ian's breath caught, the golden eyes darkened to deep amber, and now he also had reason to be embarrassed about the front of his jeans – which were tight enough to leave little to the imagination.

Vicki grinned companionably across the room at Sara. "Giving us both a treat with our morning coffee, I'd say," Vicki observed. Sara laughed, Ian blushed, and Moby handed Sara her coffee. Giving Ian's bottom a final pat, Sara removed her hand to take the coffee from Moby and sit at the table. "Thanks," she said to Moby. Sara glanced over her shoulder at Ian, who was still blushing and intently studying the linoleum pattern on the kitchen fl "W "What's with the peek-a-boo pants, ace?" she asked. "They're the only clean pair that I have," he mumbled, "I'm doing laundry right now. I just didn't do it fast enough." Sara started to reach behind her again but Ian sidestepped. She shrugged, pulling back her hand. "No hurry," Sara said, sipping coffee, "As far as I'm concerned, you can let the dryer run an extra cycle." Vicki nodded, mischief in her eyes. "Yeah," she agreed, "Don't rush on my account either."

Mobius cleared his throat and both women turned their heads to look at him. "Can I cook you some breakfast, my ladies?" he asked. Ian silently mouthed "Thank you" to his friend. Mobius smiled and nodded. "I have been told that I prepare an exceptional omelet," he said, "Still, the proof is in the omelet." "I thought that was pudding," Vicki said. "I do not make pudding, Po," Moby intoned. Vicki studied him raptly. "You can make whatever you like," she said. Sara smirked. "Wielder?" Mobius asked. "I'll have what she's having," Sara replied. Vicki choked on her coffee. While Moby carefully patted Vicki's back and Sara tried to figure out what she'd said wrong, Ian escaped to the living room. He wedged his exposed parts into the sofa and quietly watched the fire.

As Moby set about cooking them breakfast, Sara asked Vicki if she'd mind taking a look at Ian's shoulder and ribs. "Where did he go, anyway?" Vicki asked. "I think we embarrassed him, Vick," Sara said, feeling a little bad, "He still gets pretty unnerved whenever the talk turnssex sex or private parts." "Why?" Vicki asked. Flipping his first omelet, Mobius replied, "It was very hard for Ian when we were in the military. To most of the others, his virginity was an aberration. They came to the assumption that there was something wrong with him because he had made a conscious choice to save himself for the Wielder. They made life difficult for him." Vicki's mouth had dropped open. "Ian was a virgin before you two…?" she asked. Sara nodded, then grabbed and squeezed Vicki's hand across the table. "Please don't make a big deal of it, okay, Vick?" she begged. Vicki's mouth snapped shut. "Of course not," she replied, "No unicorn jokes. I promise." Sara gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks," she said.

"Okay," Vicki said, all business now in her flannel pajamas, "I need to get my medical bag from the car." Moby turned his head to take in her attire again. "If you will watch my omelet, Po, to insure thatdoesdoes not burn," he said, "I will bring you your bag." Vicki glanced down at herself as if suddenly remembering what she was wearing. She snorted in amusement. "Good plan," she replied, "Wouldn't want to frighten the wildlife, after all. Thanks." "It will be my pleasure," Moby replied, handing her his spatula. A moment later he had disappeared out the cabin door. Sara gave her friend's hand a playful push. "You kind of like that big bad, don't you?" she asked. Vicki shrugged, but her smile was conspiratorial. "He certainly does have style, doesn't he," she replied, "He's not like anyone else I've ever known." Sara had a fleeting memory of Mobius with a slab of concrete poised over his head. "Amen to that," she said, "Let me go find Ian." Vicki raised her eyebrow. "Don't get lost," she said, moving to the stove, spatula in hand.

Sara snuggled next to Ian on the sofa, sliding her arms around his waist and dropping her head to his shoulder. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Ian," she said. She felt his shoulder lift a fraction. "I guess I'm still just a blushing virgin, huh," he replied, upset that he was so sensitive. Sara nuzzled his neck and said, "Hardly. You're way too good in bed now for that to be true." He finally turned to face her. "Am I?" he asked seriously. She studied him for a moment before she said, "What? You think that my response to you is an act? I cry and pant and scratch just so you'll feel that you're pleasing me? Are you nuts? I wouldn't go to that trouble for any man." He thought about that and then smiled. "No. I guess you wouldn't," he replied. "Feel better?" she asked. He nodded, still smiling. "Good," she said, "Cause Vicki needs to take a good look at your arm and ribs." The smile disappeared and his mouth started to open. She touched his parting lips with her index finger and said, "Last night you promised me that you'd let her take a look." Ian sighed and gave up.

Just then, Mobius returned, medical bag in hand. In the kitchen doorway, he handed the bag to Vicki while she returned the spatula to him. "Thanks," she said again, giviim aim a dazzling smile. Moby seem a bit disconcerted for a second, struck by that smile, before he managed to reply, "You are most welcome, Po." He suddenly looked at the spatula in his hand as if it had just grown there and, remembering the omelets, disappeared quickly into the kitchen. Vicki stood watching him go, eyes focused low. When she didn't turn back, Sara called from the sofa, "Yo, Vick." Vicki turned, startled, and said to Ian, "Ahoy there, Captain. Let's see about getting you shipshape again." Ian's lips curved at the corners. "Are you sure you're a qualified doctor?" he asked, "It's kind of hard to take someone with bunnies all over their pajamas very seriously." Vicki gasped and said, "Ouch. Now you've cut me to the quick."

Then, she was suddenly every inch the professional as she said, "Let's get rid of this bandage and take a look at your arm. It's been bleeding again." She removed the bandage and poked around a little bit before saying, annoyed, "You've torn out two of these stitches. How the hell did you manage that?" Ian dropped his head and Sara evinced a sudden keen interest in the fire. Vicki looked at them both and snorted. "Never mind," she said, "I don't want the grizzly details. I heard enough of it to already know more than I ever wanted to. I'm going to replace these stitches now. I do, however, want your solemn word – both of you – that you'll take it easy until this has a chance to heal." They both nodded sheepishly. Vicki replaced Ian's stitches and rebandaged his arm.

"The ribs are really bothering you, aren't they, Ian?" Vicki asked. "How can you tell?" he responded. "The way that you're sng,\ng," she said, "The way that you favor that side whenever you move." He nodded. She narrowed her eyes and said, "I don't think that gauze is giving you enough support. I've got some elastic bandage in my bag. If I've got enough, let's try that and see if it feels better to you." He nodded again and said, "Thanks." She undid the gauze and rewrapped his chest using the elastic bandage. When she was finished, Vicki asked, "Too tight?" Ian shook his head and said, "No. It's fine. How am I going to get a shower? Can I get this wet?" Vicki snorted. "Now you think of that?" she asked, "Tell you what. I'll unwrap you before the shower and rewrap you afterward. How's that?"

"Oh, that's okay," Sara said, joining the conversation, "I can unwrap him." Vicki pointed one long finger at her. "Remember what you promised," she said. Sara grinned. "I'll be careful," she said, reaching over to gently rub Ian's abs, "I won't hurt him again or let him hurt himself, for that matter." "I'll be watching," Vicki said. When they both turned to look at her, she flushed. "Well, not literally," she replied, adding, "You know what I mean." Fortunately, Mobius stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway to intone, "Breakfast is ready."

After they finished their exceptional omelets, Sara put the clothes in the dryer before she went into the bathroom with Ian to help him shower. Vicki and Mobius cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Ian stayed in the bedroom until Sara was able to get clean clothes out of the dryer. While Mobius took a shower, Vicki again wrapped Ian's ribs. He was now modestly clad in both clean briefs and black sweatpants, with the matching sweatshirt close at hand to put on when Vicki was done with him. "Pity," Vicki thought, smiling to herself. After all, it didn't hurt to look and the man certainly had a beautiful ass. "What's funny?" Ian asked. "This entire situation that we find ourselves in," Vicki replied, thinking it was a safer answer. Ian smiled back at her and said, "It will soon get even better." Vicki frowned and asked, "What does that mean?" "You haven't even met Lazar yet," he replied. Vicki eyes went wide. "Who the hell is Lazar and where's he going to sleep?" she asked, "There's no more room." "Lazar doesn't stay," Ian replied, "He comes and goes." "Comes and goes from where?" Vicki asked, "We're in the middle of nowhere." "Exactly," Ian said, grinning.

Vicki went to take her shower, still pondering the Lazar mystery. Moby went out to chop more wood for the fire. After she made sure that Ian was safely ensconced on the sofa resting, Sara actually set about straightening up the place a bit in preparation for the appearance of their master. Four people, even neat ones, tend to make a lot more mess than two. As she put things away, Sara thought about broaching subjsubject of letting the Witchblade heal Ian with Lazar. In his current condition, she wasn't at all sure that Ian should be training today and time was getting short. He probably should spend the day on the sofa giving his ribs a chance to heal. Of course, if the Witchblade healed him, they could get back to work immediately. She wanted Lazar's support though before she brought it up with Ian again. When she'd suggested it as they made love last night, she'd sensed more than reluctance from Ian. If she had to put a name to what he'd projected, it would probably be revulsion. She was sure that she was reading Ian wrong and that Lazar would have a better grasp of Ian's strange response to her suggestion.

Moby returned and began to stack wood in the box by the fireplace. With the cabin back in order, Sara sat on the sofa, pulling Ian's long legs across her lap. Vicki emerged from the bathroom clad in jeans and a red pullover. She was drying her wet hair with a towel. At that moment, Lazar appeared, sitting in the chair across from the sofa. Startled, Moby dropped a log with a clatter beside the box. Vicki leaped back a foot, issuing a cry of "Holy Shit," her towel dropping from nerveless fingers. Sara and Ian smiled, not moving a muscle. They were used to Lazar's unconventional entrances and exits by now.

Lazar cleared his throat, looking at the havoc that he had caused, and said, "I beg your pardon." Moby, having regained his composure quickly, picked up the dropped log and put it in the box. He inclined his head to Lazar and went to stand behind the sofa. Lazar inclined his head back. Ian said, "Sir, this Hector Mobius." Lazar replied, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Wielder." Mobius said, "And I, you," in respectful tones. Behind them, Vicki pointed her finger at Lazar, mouth still hanging open, and said, "What? What?" Sara laughed and said, "And this is my incoherent friend, Vicki Po." Lazar looked directly at Vicki and said, "Of course, the famous Dr. Po." That caused Vicki to blink several times and drop her finger. Lazar turned back to Sara and said, "Why is she here? This is no time for social calls."

"I had dreams," Vicki said. Lazar looked back at her sharply. "Did you?" he asked. Vicki nodded. "I had to come," she said. Lazar sighed. "Then, so be it," he said. Sara frowned. "What the hell does that mean?" she asked, "Is there some problem with Vicki being here; some grim omen or portent?" Lazar shook his head. "None that I know of," he replied. Sara snorted. "Sorry," she apologized, "I didn't mean to jump all over you. I guess I'm still a little edgy." Lazar nodded and said, "You had visitors last night." "Yeah," Sara replied, "And not all of them human either." Lazar nodded again and then turned his attention to Ian. "You have been hurt, Protector," he said. Ian started to open his mouth but Sara interrupted him, "Don't you dare say that you're fine, ace, because you're not." Ian said softly, "I'm alright, Sara."

"Perhaps Dr. Po might be able to provide me with a clear picture of the Protector'nditndition?" Lazar asked. Vicki came one step closer to the sofa. "His arm isn't a problem," she replied, "That should heal fairly quickly. The broken ribs are something else again. He should rest on that sofa for the next couple of days at least – no heavy lifting, no unnecessary movement." Lazar nodded. "As I thought," he replied, "That is both unfortunate and dangerous. There is very little time and you have yet to channel your power through the orb." Sara cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak but Lazar held up his hand. "Yes, Wielder, ree,ree," he replied, as if she had spoken, "I think that we have no recourse but to fall on the mercy of the Witchblade and hope that It might heal the Protector as It has in the past."

Ian sat up as if galvanized, pressing a hand against the shock to his ribs. "No," he said, vehemently. Everyone looked at him. Both Lazar and Sara frowned. Moby and Vicki just looked confused. Ian edged forward a little on the sofa, taking Sara's hand. "No," he begged, "Please." Sara looked into his eyes, searching for some clue to his behavior and finding nothing but blind panic. "What the hell is going on with you, Ian?" she asked. "Nothing," he mumbled, "I feel fine. I'm ready to work with the orb today. Please. I can do it." Lazar studied Ian carefully before saying, "No, Protector, in your current condition, you cannot do it. You would only harm yourself further. The Convergence is five days away. You must be whole and strong to protect yourself and the Wielder. There is no other way." Ian dropped his head. "I can't," he said miserably.

Sara caught his chin in her hand and raised Ian's head. "Ian, you're starting to piss me off," she said, "Tell me what's wrong." He wouldn't meet her eyes and he tried to wrench his head from her hand so that he could lower it again. "I can't," he repeated in a whisper. "Damn it, Ian," she exploded. Ian lurched off the sofa holding his side and in four good strides was out the front door of the cabin, slamming it shut behind him. Sara started to propel herself after Ian but as she passed him, Lazar grabbed her arm. "Wielder, hold," he commanded. "But…," Sara started. "Stop," Lazar said, his tone allowing for no disobedience. Sara sighed, backing up to sit on the sofa again.

"Whatever the problem is," Lazar said, "The Protector will not share it with either of us. He may, however, talk to someone else." Lazar's bulbous eyes settled on Mobius, who immediy shy shook his head. "Ian will speak to me of tactics, strategy, philosophy, and many r thr things, but not of something deeply personal," Moby replied, "I do not believe that he would share this pain with me." All eyes now settled on Vicki. Vicki sighed. She'd almost intervened earlier, feeling that they were ganging up on Ian. Only her respect for Sara's temper had held her back. She sighed again and said, "Okay. I'll give it a try but don't hold your breath. Ian doesn't know me very well. I don't know why he'd open up to me." Lazar smiled at her kindly. "Perhaps that is exactly why he would," he said.

Sara went to Vicki and hugged her. "Take his jacket with you, Vick," she said, "He ran out without it. He must be freezing." "Okay. How will I even find him?" Vicki asked. "He won't go far," Sara said, "Follow the trail that starts right outside the cabin door. It goes to a clearing with a little stream. That's where he goes to sit and think. That's where he'll be." Vicki nodded doubtfully, shrugging into her coat and grabbing Ian's jacket. As she went toward the door, Moby caught her arm and handed her the throw from the sofa. He smiled at her and said, "To stave off the cold, Po. Good luck to you. You are a good friend." She smiled back, taking the throw, and said, "Thanks."

Outside the cabin, Vicki followed the path that Sara had indicated. She walked a good way before she heard the sound of running water. When she reached the clearing, she was relieved to see Ian huddled on a rock close to the water. He sat with his knees bent up and his arms around them. His head was down, resting on his knees. Trying not to startle him, Vicki approached him slowly. When she stepped on to the rock where he sat, he said, "It's okay, Vicki. I'm not going to fling myself off the precipice into the rapids below." He didn't raise his head. She had to smile. From the "precipice" to the "rapids" was probably a distance of a good four feet at best. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "Deductive reasoning," he replied, "Besides you probably lost the coin toss."

She laid his jacket beside him and sat down. "Sara was worried about you getting cold," she said. Ian raised his head and nodded. He carefully put on the jacket, wincing anyway at the pain. Vicki shivered. She reached beside her for the throw that Moby had handed her and shook it open. "Do you mind if I wrap up in this?" she asked Ian, "It's kind of chilly out here." He shrugged. "Knock your socks off," he replied. Vicki smiled and pulled the throw around her. "So," she asked, "How does Sara's bracelet heal you? I mean, what do you guys need to do to make it happen?"

For a moment, Vicki thought that he wasn't going to answer her, but then he said softly, "I put my ring against her bracelet and…" Ian stopped speaking, so she prompted by asking, "And?" Ian shrugged again. "Different things can happen. It's up to the Witchblade; the Witchblad in in control. We aren't." "What sorts of things?" Vicki asked. "Visions of past lives," he said softly, "It can join Sara and I so that we can talk to each other telepathically or share sensations. It's healed me a couple of times. Things like that." "That doesn't sound too bad," Vicki said, "So what are you so afraid of?" She watched his body curl up tighter. "He's not going to answer that," she thought. "Ian?" she asked.

Ian cleared his throat. "C'mon," Vicki prompted, "I promise you that I won't tell anyone else if you don't want me to." There was a long pause. "It used me," he said very softly, "Sexually." Vicki caught her breath. "Are you saying that it raped you?" she asked very carefully, "And that Sara doesn't know?" He turned his head away from her and she had to strain to hear his voice. "I don't know whether what it did to me would be called 'rape'," he said, "I don't really have enough experience to know." Vicki blinked and reached out to gently touch his shoulder. "Did you ask It to stop?" she said. "Yes," he replied, voice tight. "Did It stop when you asked It to?" she continued. He shook his head. "Then you were raped, Ian," she said, her voice filled with sympathy. He turned to face her and she could see the haunted look in his eyes. "But I came," he said, his voice full of shame, "My body responded to It and I came. I didn't want to but I couldn't stop. Sara and I were making love and my ring touched her bracelet by accident. Between one second and the next, it wasn't Sara any more – it was the Witchblade and I was too far gone. I couldn't stop. I tried to pull away. I asked It to stop but it wast tot too late."

Ian dropped his head back to his knees. Vicki squeezed his shoulder once more before letting it go. "It wasn't your fault, Ian," she said, "You did nothing wrong." "Then why do I feel so awful?" he asked, "Why do I feel like I betrayed Sara?" "You shouldn't," Vicki replied, "You have no reason. You weren't unfaithful to Sara. You didn't choose to have this happen. You tried to stop it." She saw a shudder run through him and Vicki impulsively reached over to pull him into her arms. He let her hold him but didn't return the embrace. He stayed stiff in her arms while she rocked him a little. She felt him let out a shaky breath against her neck. "What's going to happen now?" he asked softly.

"Sara should know about this," Vicki said. Ian pushed back from her and turned away. "She'll leave me," he said, "And I can't live without her." Vicki's eyes went wide. "Why on earth would you think that Sara would leave you over this?" she asked. "I had a vision that Sara had left me," Ian said softly, "She went away and left her ring behind." Vicki was about to scoff at this vision, but then she remembered the power of the dreams that had brought her to where she was now. "God, what a mess," she thought, "How has he been holding all this inside him? Okay, Po. Let's try some logic." "Ian, look at me," Vicki said. Ian turned his head back to look at her. She could see the despair in his eyes. "Sara's not going anywhere before the Convergence," Vicki said, "I guarantee it. So you you tell her this now, it's not going to prompt her to leave you. I don't know whether your vision was real or not, but it can't have anything to do with what the Witchblade did to you."

He dropped his head, lost in thought. After a few moments, he said, "I understand what you're saying and it makes sense. I guess you're right. Sara should know." He shut his eyes and added, "I don't know if I can tell her though. It was hard enough telling you. With Sara, it's…she's everything, my whole world. I wouldn't even know how to begin." Vicki took his hand and said, "Do you want me to ther her what happened?" He squeezed her hand. "That's the coward's way out," he replied. "Not at all," Vicki said, "I didn't go through the experience. Why should you relive it yet again? Let me explain this to her." "Okay," he said, "And then I have to go back into the Witchblade's world. Right?"

"I don't think there's any other way, is there?" Vicki asked, "Even if you don't go to the Witchblade for healing now, wouldn't you have to connect with It for the Convergence?" Ian nodded. "Yes, you're right," he said, "I was hoping that I could figure out what I was going to do before then. It just came to a head a little sooner, that's all." He gave a weak smile and added, "No pun intended." Vicki laughed, relieved, feeling some of the tension ease. "There's that Nottingham sense of humor," she said, "It'll be okay, Ian. I'm sure of it." He nodded and said, "I hope you're right." "Sara and Lazar will be right there with you," Vicki said, "This time, you won't be dropping in accidentally and it won't be in the middle of…" "Making love," Ian helped her. "Right," she agreed, then asked, "Are you okay with this?"

Ian shrugged. "There aren't a lot of other choices," he replied, "If the Witchblade doesn't heal me, we may be in trouble. I'm worried about how Sara's going to feel about me when she finds out what happened." "Sara will understand," Vicki said, "She may want to melt down the Witchblade but she won't blame you. It will be alright. Are you ready to go back?" He took a deep, shaky breath and stood, holding his hand out to help Vicki up. They walked slowly back to the cabin together in the gathering dusk.

As soon as Ian came though the cabin door, he felt three pair of anxious eyes rake over him. Lazar still sat in the chair by the fire. Moby leaned against the mantelpiece. Ian could tell from her body language that Sara was holding herself on the sofa only by a strong act of will. His eyes met hers and he managed a small smile. That was all the encouragement she needed. She came off the sofa as if she'd been shot from a cannon and half a second later was in Ian's arms. He winced as her arms closed hungrily around him. He rested one hand on her shoulder while the other stroked her hair. Mobius and Lazar shifted their eyes elsewhere to try to give the couple a bit of privacy. But Vickho hho had been hidden behind Ian's back, finally cleared her throat.

Sara pulled back from Ian a fraction and angled her head past Ian's shoulder to look at Vicki. "We need to talk," Vicki said to Sara, "Bedroom?" Sara nodded and started to pull back but Ian dropped his other hand to her shoulder and held Sara tight in his embrace. "Wait," he saiftlyftly. Ian turned his head toward Vicki. "I can't let you do this after all," he said to her, "I need to explain this to Sara myself." Vicki gave him a big smile that wordlessly shouted, "Good for you." Aloud, she said to him, "Knock your socks off." Ian turned back to Sara, looking deeply into her eyes. "Bedroom?" he asked. Sara nodded. His left hand dropped from her shoulder to her hand and he twined his fingers through hers. He turned and led Sara into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

Ian turned to find Sara looking at him expectantly. He felt his strong resolve begin to waiver. Before he could chicken out, he went to the bed and pushed the pillows together against the headboard. He sat up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and stretching his long legs out to cross at the ankles. Settled, he opened his arms for Sara. She moved into his arms, her back against his chest and her legs curled next to his. Ian's arms closed over hers and he began to idly stroke the back of her hand with one long finger. When he spoke, his warm breath stirred wisps of hair at the back of her head. "Remember the night that you taught me about the pleasures of penny candy?" he asked. Sara smiled, remembering the packet of grape Lickamade. "Absolutely," she purred. "Something happened while we were making love," he continued softly, "I didn't tell you about it for a lot of reasons that aren't so clear any more. I was ashamed and confused and guilty. I guess I was also afraid that, if I told you, you might stop wanting me. Vicki says I'm nuts. That you won't feel that way. I'm trying very hard to believe that she's right."

Sara started to turn her head to encourage him to just get it out, but one of Ian's h mov moved to her shoulder and grasped it tightly, holding her still. "Please don't look at me," he whispered, "I can't tell you if you're looking at me. I'm afraid of what I might see in your eyes. Just let me tell you like this and after you can do whatever you want. Okay?" Sara settled back against him, the back of her head touching his left shoulder. "Okay," she replied. She heard him take a deep breath and let it out again. "We were making love on the floor in front of the fire. I was behind you. I'm still not clear how it happened. I think I lost my balance," he told her, voice tight, "All I know is that I hadn't intended to touch my ring to the Witchblade. It was an accident." Sara linked her fingers through his. "What happened?" she asked.

"I was suddenly somewhere else," he said, voice still barely above a whisper, "I was on a bed making love to you. Our positions were different: you were on your back and I was on top. Everything around the bed was like a gray mist." "Witchblade Land," Sara said. Ian nodded; then, realizing she couldn't see it, said, "Yes." "Did you know it wasn't me?" she asked, a tiny bite in her tone. "Yes," he replied, "Immediately, and I tried to stop, pull away." Sara, seeing the picture in her mind, asked, "But It wouldn't let you, would it?" "No," he said. She could feel his body tensing up beneath her. Sara tightened her grip on his hand, stroking his palm soothingly. She was just about to prompt him when he continued on his own.

"It did something to me. I don't know how to begin to explain it. It felt sort of like that jolt of lust that It used to give usn itn it was playing with us at the loft – only stronger, much stronger," he went on, "I guess I must have blanked out for a minute because, when I started to struggle again, our positions were reversed. I was on the bottom." Sara squeezed his hand and said, "It's okay, baby. Go on." "It ted ted to ride me hard," Ian said, reastarstarting to sound strained, "I tried to move, but I couldn't. I begged it to stop, but it told me to be quiet." There was a long silence. Finally, Sara asked, "What happened?" His voice barely a whisper, Ian said, "I came. I think It came too. I'm not sure. I just wanted it to stop." Sara felt what she knew was a completely unreasonable sense of betrayal hit her. Before she could work her way past it, Ian picked it up. His whole bodiffeiffened against her and a soft moan escaped him.

Sara felt his muscles bunch to move. Ian was getting ready to run again. Sara quickly rolled over and straddled his hips, her hands pressing down on his shoulders. "Don't move, Ian," she sa"St"Stay still and let us both catch our breaths for a minute. Okay?" The irony wasn't lost on either of them that they were now locked in the position in which the Witchblade had taken Ian. Ian didn't answer her. He just stared up at her, golden eyes huge, shiny, and full of pain. They stayed that way, staring at each other, for a couple of minutes before Ian got up the courage to ask in a soft, desperate whisper, "Have I lost you?" Sara snorted and lifted one hand from his shoulder to push back his mussed hair. "You stupid git," she said affectionately, "It would take a lot more than this to get rid of me."

Ian had been holding his breath waiting for Sara's answer. Now, it left him in one big whoosh. His arms came around her and Sara suddenly found herself plastered flat against his chest, her face deep in his silky curls. Conscious of his broken ribs, she tried to ease herself back a bit, but he just tightened his hold. He wouldn't let her go. "Thank god," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. Sara just let him hold her for a few minutes because he seemed to need it so badly. Then, she mumbled, "Honey, it's kind of hard for me to breathe with my face pushed into your hair like this." Ian immediately loosened his hold on her. Sara sat back up. "I'm sorry," he said. She knew he meant for more than just holding her too tight.

"Ian, baby," Sara said, "You push a man past a certain point ais bis body is going to respond whether he wants it to or not." The golden eyes widened slightly. "Really?" he asked. In truth, Sara didn't know whe wha what she'd just told him was true or not – she obviously wasn't a man and she certainly was no courtesan with a legion of lovers to her credit. Still, it sounded believable, she thought, and Ian wouldn't know the difference. What was the harm in telling him something that would make him feel less guilt? "Really," she assured him, to pla planted in her cheek, "Now, tell me the rest." The color rose in Ian's cheeks as he said, "It let me go and I told It that I wanted to go back to you. It didn't want me to leave right away. It kissed me but I didn't return the kiss. My mind wasn't working very well, my memories about what happened right after aren't clear. I do remember that I felt sick and that I wanted to be with you so badly."

"It let you go again, just like that?" Sara asked, confused as to the Witchblade's motives for what ad dad done. "No," Ian said frowning, trying to remember what he'd tried so hard to block out. "It wanted more but It didn't force the issue. It didn't seem like it was trying to hurt me," he said, "It even seemed to be 'fond' of me. I'm not sure that's the right word. I'm probably explaining this badly. We've both had firsthand experience with the Witchblade's taste for strong emotions like violence and lust. I think, maybe, it just saw an opportunity to sate some lust with me firsthand instead of by proxy and It took it. It doesn't haveuidiuiding morality like we do, Sara. It's amoral." Sara studied him, perplexed. "Are you defending it now, Ian?" she asked. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to understand what happened, I guess. It wasn't vicious with me. It was…affectionate," he said, struggling to find the right word.

Sara swung her leg across his body and then turned to sit on the side of the bed, her back to him. "Right," she said sarcastically, "The bitch 'affectionately' used my man to scratch It's itch. You're not some damn blowup sex toy, Ian." Ian couldn't help the smile that flitted like a ray of light across his face at Sara's possessiveness. "She called me 'her man'," he thought, thrilled. Ian leaned forward and rubbed her tense back muscles. "Please believe me, Sara, I don't want to make love with anyone but you. This whole thing was making me miserable for two reasons," he explained, "First, I was afraid that you'd blame me and stop wanting me. That fear was eating me alive – especially after the vision of you leaving me. Now that I know I won't lose you over this, I think I can put it behind me."

Sarrnedrned her head to look at him, seriously wondering if that was true. "What's the second reason?" she asked. "I don't want the Witchblade to touch me likat aat again and I don't know how to stop it," Ian replied, "That's why I haven't wanted to link with it through Excalibur, especially when we're making love. I only want you to touch me." "Don't worry, baby. That's a desire that we share," Sara replied, her voice bristling with animosity, "I won't ever let It do that to you again. You have my promise on that." Ian frowned, worried about Sara's anger. He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, one after the other. "Sara," he said hesitantly, "Please don't take this the wrong way." She raised one eyebrow. "We have to be very careful in our dealings with the Witchblade right now," he ventured, adding, "Because of the Convergence. We can't win without Its help."

Sara looked at him grimly, her eyes hard as emeralds. "And your point is?" she asked. "That the Witchblade isn't the enemy right now," Ian said softly, "Regardless of what it did to me. The darkness that's coming to swallow everythlighlight and good is the real enemy. We need the Witchblade's help to hold the balance." Now Sara took a deep breath, struggling to rein in her temper. After all, Ian's violation was her violation as well and she was seething to avenge both of them. "And," he added tensely, "I guess now we also need the Witchblade to heal me." Deflated, Sara reached over to squeeze his knee. "I get your drift, ace," she replied, "Not a very politic time to piss off the Witchblade. There are bigger issues here than what we're feeling about the way that It used you."

Ian nodded, grateful for her understanding. He didn't want to be the reason for a rift between Sara and the Witchblade with the Convergence looming before them. "Okay," Sara said, expelling her breath sharply, "So, we need to go to the Witchblade for help but, at the same time, ensure that It keeps Its fucking paws off of you." Ian grinned, feeling a wave of love for Sara wash over him. "Not quite the way that I'd have put it," he said, "But that's the goal, yes." Sara grinned back. "You know me, bab she she said, "I'm a cut to the chase kind of woman." His golden eyes darkened to smoky amber. "Not always," he responded,ce hce husky. "Well," she said, voice equally husky as she picked up his vibes, "Some things are worth drawing out." Her hand snaked slowly across the bed and under his sweatshirt to sensually stroke his hard abs. Ian's eyes fluttered shut. "More," he whispered.

"Are you two at it again?" they heard Vicki call from the living room. "There are three people sitting out here waiting for you, you know," she added, sounding a bit cranky. Sara turned sharply toward the door and pulled her hand back as if it had been scalded. "Shit," she said, "I forgot that they were there." Before she could move away, Ian caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "Me too," he said, "Give me a rain check for tonight?" She turned to look back into his eyes and the raw sensuality that blazed there took her breath . ". "Oh yeah," she replied, a bit stunned and suddenly warm, "Absolutely." "Good," he said, licking the palm of the hand that he held. "Uh, we better go back to the living room," Sara stammered. Ian nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hand. Sara stood up brushing beads of sweat from her forehead. "Warm in here," she thought, opening the bedroom door.

Three heads simultaneously turned to study Sara and Ian as they returned to the living room. Lazar and Mobius were still in their previous positions, on the chair and leaning against the fireplace, respectively. Vicki now perched on the side of the sofa closest to the fire – and Mobius, coincidentally. Sara went to sit on the other side of the sofa and Ian dropped to the rug at her feet, his back leaning against her legs. Sara turned to look at Vicki, their eyes meeting. "Thanks for helping him through this," she said. Vicki grinned at her friend. "Glad I could help," she said. Sara dropped her hand to Ian's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He reached up his hand to link his fingers with hers. Sara turned to Lazar and said, "The Witchblade…" Sara stopped dead, at a loss for how to phrase her bracelet's actions without embarrassing Ian. "…took advantage of Ian," Vicki finished the sentence, looking at Lazar.

For a moment, Lazar simply stared at Vicki. Then, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and shook his head. Finally, he turned to Ian. "My apologies, Protecto Laz Lazar said, his voice filled with regret, "I should have anticipated that something like this could happen and warned you. The Witchblade had shown unusual interest in you personally and in this aspect of your relationship with the Wielder. Although violence and carnality have always been strong characteristics of the Witchblade, I have never known It to personally mate with a Protector before. In the past, It has only shared in this type of experience vicariously through the Wielder. In truth, I did not know that this type of interaction was possible." "Okay," Sara said, "So much for the mea culpa. How do we keep the connection with the damn thing open for the Convergence and to heal Ian without letting It use him like that again?"

Lazar frowned. "Indeed, how," he said, "This poses an interesting dilemma. Protector, when the Witchblade did this, were you and the Wielder joined?" Ian looked at him confused. He and Sara were "joined" most of the time in one way or another. Ian's eyes widened slightly as he thought he realized what Lazar was asking. Needing to confirm his suspicion, Ian mumbled, looking down, "Do you mean were Sara and I making love?" Lazar smiled and said, "Exactly." "Yes," Ian softly replied, then added, "I touched my ring to the Witchblade accidentally." "And the Wielder was unaware of what you had done?" Lazar asked. Sara jumped in impatiently. "Yeah, so?" she said, "Is this line of questioning going anywhere?" Lazar shot Sara a look. "Patience, Wielder," he said a bit sternly. Sara clamped her mouth shut, frowning. Vicki snorted, amused at the unusual sight of someone putting Sara in her place.

"Whenever the Witchblade has had a physical impact on you, whether to heal or couple with you, the two objects of power were in direct connection, and you and the Wielder were making love," Lazar said to Ian, "Is that correct?" Ian nodded. "Then one safeguard that we take is that you do not allow that to happen again," Lazar concluded. Sara's eyes went huge and she started to open her mouth before Lazar held up a hand. "I speak of the physical connection between the ring and the bracelet, Wielder," he explained, "Not the action that accompanied it." Sara relaxed again, mollified. "There is a flaw in your reasoning, Sir," Mobius' deep voice ventured, "These conditions were also necessary to heal Ian, were they not?" "Yes, they were," agreed Lazar, "So we will have to find another way."

"In spite of It's recent actions," Lazar continued, "I believe that the Witchblade's attraction to the Protector goes beyond lust – although it is both presumptuous and dangerous to ascribe motives to an entity such as the Witchblade. I suggest that we simply appeal to It to heal Ian. We make a humble request, devoid of the strong physical stimuli of sex, and see what happens." "How?" Ian asked. Lazar turned to face him. "and and the Wielder are able to connect now without physical contact between ring and bracelet. I believe that you are strong enough to approach the Witchblade in Its own dimension without that concrete link," Lazar said.

Sara dropped Ian's hand and pushed past him to rise from the sofa. She began to pace back and forth in the empty space at the middle he rhe room. "So we just pretend that Ian wasn't violated and we 'humbly' ask the Witchblade for help," she raged, "No accountability, no retribution – not even an apology. What's to stop It from turning Ian into Its fucking concubine. Huh?" Ian looked down, cheeks flaming. Vicki and Moby took a sudden interest in the fire. "We are," Lazar said quietly, "I fully understand your indignation, Wielder. But you must understand that the Witchblade cannot be held accountable to our standards. You must also understand where the power resides. The relationship between the Witchblade and its Wielder is symbiotic. Do not make it adversarial. If you do, you will be destroyed. Do you understand me?"

Ian stood and caught Sara to him in mid-pace. He pulled her into his arms, holding her rigid body close to his until she began to soften. He leaned down to gently kiss her lips. "Please, Sara," he whispered, "Let it go. It's over. We won't put ourselves in the position to let it happen again. It's done. That's enough. Just let it go." She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. "You're asking me to go against my natugaingain, ace," she mumbled, "You know that I'm not good at that." "I know," he said, kissing the top of her head, "Do it for me. Please." She lifted hece tce to search his eyes. "You're sure that this is what you want?" she asked. He smiled and nodded. She sighed and reached up to push a lock of hair behind his ear. "Alright," she said, "You win. Humility is my new middle name." From her perch on the sofa, Vicki Po snorted loudly.

"Good," Lazar said, "Because we must attempt this now. One way or another, we must begin working with the orb tomorrow. The Convergence is almost upon us." "What if It says no?" Sara asked. Lazar met her eyes squarely. "We will deal with that if it happens, yes?" he replied, "Now, both of you sit on the floor in your normal meditation poses." Sara and Ian sat on the floor cross-legged, across from each other. Mobius moved to the sofa to sit next to Vicki, who was looking worried. He took her small hand in his. It disappeared between his great paws. "Do not worry, Po," he rumbled softly, "All will be well." She grimaced and said, "From your mouth to the Witchblade's ears." Moby, looking a bit confused at her reply, stroked her hand reassuringly. Vicki sighed.

Lazar took them through a series of relaxation exercises and then had them connect astheythey were getting ready to channel energy through the orb. This time, however, instead of focusing on joining their power to create a barrier across the Gate, they focused on approaching the Witchblade. As always, there were several minutes when it seemed as if nothing was going to happen. From far off, Sara dimly heard Vicki clear her throat. Then, all sound seemed suddenly muted, as if it was being funneled through several layers of cotton. Sara opened hyes yes and found herself in Witchblade Land. Ian stood to her left. They were careful not to touch. She watched as he opened his eyes and swayed a little, disoriented. She didn't reach out her hand to steady him.

They were on a smooth expanse of marble. Beyond the floor area on which they stood, only a swirling gray mist was visible. Still watching Ian, Sara saw him regain his composure and give her a shaky smile. He started to reach out to her before he also quickly stifled the impulse. Suddenly sensing a presence, they both turned to look in front of them. The forward part of the marble formed a small dais, raised about a foot above the area on which they stood. Seated in the center of the dais, on a chair not unlike Kenneth Irons' "throne," was Witchblade Sara. It wore a flowing sheer gown of misty pale green and a sensual smile. Its eyes were fixed on Ian.

Sara felt her temper rising and forced it down through an act of will. She stepped forward, drawing the Witchblade's eyes to her. "We need to ask You for a favor," Sara said. It didn't say a word but the disconcerting smile widened a trifle. It inclined Its head, giving Sara permission to continue. Sara took a deep breath before she said, "Ian's been hurt. The Convergence is close and he won't heal in time. You've healed him in the past. We're asking You to do it again so that we're able to fight the enemy unimpaired. Will you help us?" There were several moments of silence before Witchblade Sara replied, "Perhaps." It rose gracefully and walked slowly to Ian, Its attention entirely on him. It ran the back of Its fingers along his bearded jaw and said, "Show me your injuries."

Ian looked uncertainly over at Sara to his right. She briefly nodded. He took a deep breath and then pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He dropped it to the marble floor and stood with his chest exposed to the Witchblade's hungry eyes. He dropped his head, unable to meet that gaze. The Witchblade ran Its fingers caressingly across the bandage wrapped around Ian's chest before dragging one finger slowly downward to hook over the waistband of his sweatpants. "Does it hurt?" It asked. Ian swallowed with difficulty. "Some," he replied softly, his eyes fixed on that finger. "Your ribs are broken," It stated. "Yes," he agreed. "And here?" It asked, running Its other hand slowly across the bandage on his left shoulder. "Knife wound," he replied. Witchblade Sara smiled wickedly. "Too bad all your injuries are above the waist," It purred.

Sara pointedly cleared her throat. "Are you going to help us or not?" she asked, fighting to keep the menace from her voice. Witchblade Sara turned just her head, keeping both hands on Ian. It had picked up the menace in Sara's tone and Its eyes narrowed. Ian glanced quickly at Sara. As he watched, her eyes also narrowed in challenge. Fighting his revulsion, Ian took Witchblade Sara's hand in his where it still rested on the waistband of his pants. He looked It directly in the eyes and said, "Please." It swung Its head to look deep into those golden depths. "And what will you give me for my trouble, Protector?" It asked, smiling dangerously. "My reverence always," he replied. The danger in that smile dropped down a notch. "Ah, what a tantalizing mix of innocence and sensuality you are," It said, removing Its hand from his grasp to stroke his cheek.

Sara watched with barely concealed hostility as her counterpart stroked Ian's face. He, in turn, forced himself to stand perfectly still and to meet the Witchblade's gaze directly and without fear. "Will you help us?" he asked. Witchblade Sara dropped Its hands from Ian's body and stepped back from him slightly. It smiled, amused, at the shaky sigh of relie wae was unable to contain. "Of course," It said, "We don't like to see you in pain, Protector." Its head turned toward Sara and sharp teeth gleamed in a predatory smile. Two sets of identical eyes flashed at each other. "Do we, sister?" Witchblade Sara said mockingly. In the sudden silence, Ian looked over at Sara. He knew that feral glint in her eye. "Sara," he warned softly. She shifted her eyes to him and they immediately softened. "Please," he whispered. Sara gritted her teeth and looked at Witchblade Sara. "No," she ground out grudgingly, "We don't."

"We are agreed then," Witchblade Sara said airily, turning her back on both of them and returning to her chair, "You may return. The Protector will be whole in the morning." Sara felt a tiny pang of disappointment. She had hoped that Ian would be back to normal before bedtime. Sara knew better than to push her luck with the fickle goddess, however, so she kept her mouth shut. When her eyes met Witchblade Sara's, she understood that the short delay in his healing had not been accidental. "Bitch," she thought. Even as Its eyes narrowed speculatively, Witchblade Sara's red lips curved in an appreciative smile. The next moment Sara felt her stomach tumble as she shifted back through dimensions. When she opened her eyes again, she was once again sitting across from Ian on the floor of the cabin.

Vicki held out for a full two minutes before she cried, "So, what happened? It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Well, almost the weirdest," she amended, glancing at Lazar, "The air sort of shimmered and then you two dieareeared. You were gone a few seconds, the air sort of shimmered again, and – poof – you're back. I think when I get back to the real world, I'm going to give up science and become a spiritual medium." Ian carefully got up and held out his hand to Sara. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Sara turned to face Vicki and said, "You should have seen him, Vick. He was great. He didn't bat an eye. We ask nicely if It will heal Ian and, of course, the bitch says, suggestively, 'What'll you give me if I do, big boy.' And, Ian, without taking a beat says, 'My reverence.' It was great." Vicki grinned and said, "Wow. Way to go, IanIan Ian blinked, not understanding how he'd suddenly become a hero.

Lazar cleared his throat. "And the outcome?" he asked. Sara turned to him and said, "The Witchblade will heal him. It said that he'd be better tomorrow morning." "Well done," Lazar said, looking approvingly at each of them in turn, "We will work with the orb tomorrow. Rest well tonight." With that, Lazar disappeared. Vicki let out a startled yelp. "Jeez," she said plaintively, "I wish everyone would stop doing that." Moby smiled and patted her hand. "We were only gone a few seconds?" Sara asked Vicki. Vicki nodded. "I timed it on my watch," she said. "It seemed a lot longer than that," Saraliedlied, "I don't understand." "Time and space are mutable between dimensions," Ian explained, "An hour in the realm of the Witchblade might pass in seconds here."

Sara turned and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. "That kind of stuff makes my head hurt," she said, "Especially when I'm hungry." "What are you hungry for?" he asked innocently. Her hand slid down to one firm cheek and gave it a little squeeze. Ian and Sara looked at each other and it was obvious what they were now thinking. "Oh, her,her," Vicki said, annoyed, "Do you two ever stop?" They stepped back from each other swiftly, embarrassed. Sara cleared her throat. "How about pizza?" she asked, "Ian makes great pizza. Unless you're not up to it, baby," she added, turning back to him. Ian smiled. "I can make pizza if you want," he said, "We can have it with salad and red wine."

Ian went to the kitchen to make dinner, Moby following to keep him company. When the men had left the room, Vicki said to Sara, "I have a favor to ask you." "Shoot," Sara replied. Vicki began to laugh a little hysterically. Sara peered at her in the darkening room and asked, "Are you okay, Vick? What's going on?" When she could breathe again, Vicki held up a shaking hand. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she said, "Considering what I'm about to ask you, your response just struck me funny. That's all." Sara sat next to Vicki on the sofa, taking the spot recently vacated by Mobius. "Okay, 'Po'," she said, using Mobius' intonation, "What can I do for you?" "Teach me how to shoot," Vicki replied. Sara's mouth dropped open. She was at a loss for words. "Excuse me?" she finally said. "You heard me, smart ass," Vicki responded, "I want to learn how to shoot. I want to be able to help."

Vicki could see Sara's face getting that stubborn "I'll argue you to the death" look she knew so well. Before Sara could start with her spiel, Vicki again held up her hand. "Just listen to me for a minute," she said, "You and Ian are going to have your hands full holding the Gate. If anything comes at you from the outside, some real solid threat – like a nasty scaly thing with claws and horns – Mobius is going to have to deal with it. He can't be everywhere at once, Pez. He can't protect both you and Ian at the same time. Somebody's gonna get hurt. If you teach me how to shoot, I can guard one of you while he looks after the other. Don't just yell at me. Think about it. It makes sense." Vicki steeled herself for the Pezzini fisheye and the harangue that went with it. She was stunned, therefore, when Sara just said, "Okay. You're right. We'll start tomorrow after I finish working with Lazar."

"Now if you don't mind, Dr. Po, I'm feeling a little tired and I thought I might catch a quick nap before dinner. Are we done?" Sara asked. Vicki held out a hand, the picture of noblesse oblige. "Please,\cki cki replied, "By all means, knock your socks off – as Ian likes to say." "I taught him that," Sara said as she headed toward the bedroom. "Among other things," Vicki added, under her breath. "I heard that, Vick," Sara said gruffly, as she shut the bedroom door. Vicki grinned. She got up off the sofa and, standing in the middle of the living room, quick drew an imaginary gun and pulverized two scaly demons in a flash. "Gotcha," she breathed, giving her gun a fancy spin before dropping it back in its holster. She looked up to see Ian's head peeking out of the kitchen. His hands were full of pizza dough and his eyes were wide. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked her. The color rose in her cheeks. "Nothing," Vicki mumbled, slinking toward the kitchen to help with dinner.

Because the kitchen was too small, they moved a small table from across the living room over by the fireplace and sat around it on the floor. With the fire blazing, the pizza hot, and the wine cold, it was a pleasant dinner. Sara's brief nap had mellowed her con considerably. She suddenly stopped with her third piece of pizza halfway to her mouth. "You know," she said to Ian, eyes dreamy, "The last time we had pizza we watched that movie." "What movie?" Vicki asked. Sara suddenly realized where she was. The corners of Ian's mouth twitched. "Uh, can't remember the name of it," Sara said, backpedaling furiously. "Who was in it then?" Vicki asked. "No one that I recognized," Sara said. Ian laughed out loud at that one. Sara looked at him and raised her brow before turning to Vicki to ask, "Want another piece of pizza, Vick?"

"What was the plot?" Vicki asked, determined to pin it down. "Plot?" Sara stalled, "Kind of hard to describe." She turned to Ian, smiling maliciously, and asked, "How would you describe the plot of that movie, honey?" Still grinning, Ian shook his head. "Not a chance," he said, "You started this. Don't look at me to bail you out." Vicki turned and scanned the tapes and DVDs stacked by the television. "It must have been pretty good for you to remember it, Pez," Vicki said, "Maybe we can watch it tht. ht. Would you know the cover?" "No," Sara said, "I don't remember. Jeez, Vick, you're like a dog with a bone. If you want to watch a movie, pick one." Ian had subsided to a soft chuckle. Sara turned to him, frowning. "Thanks a lot, ace," she said, "You're a big help." "You're just upset that I never found the ladder," he said. "Ladder?" Vicki asked, "Was the movie 'Jacob's Ladder'?"

"No, it wasn't," Sara said, "Vicki, stop. Okay?" "What did I say?" Vicki asked Mobius. Moby put down his glass of wine and shook his head. "I, too, am lost in this conversation, Po," he said, "I surmise that it might be wise to change the subject." "Thank you," Sara said to him, taking a big gulp of wine. "You are most welcome, Wielder," Moby replied, "Though for what I am not quite sure." "Whatever," Vicki said, "So, shall we do ice cream and a movie tonight then? Sara?" "Sure," Sara replied, "Sounds good to me. Just let me gather up what's left of the pizza and put it away." "I can do that," Ian said. "Nah, that's okay," Sara replied, squeezing his thigh, "You made the dinner. I'll do the cleanup. Why don't you lie down on the sofa and rest those ribs." "Are you sure?" he asked, surprised. The kitchen was not Sara's favorite place. "Yeah," she said, "Grab the sofa and hold a place for me."

While Sara and Vicki carried the plates and pizza out to the kitchen, Moby put the table back to its original place and got out the featherbed. Ian was gathering pillows on the sofa and pulling down the throw so that he could stretch out in comfort. When he turned and saw Moby arranging the featherbed on the floor, he raised his eyebrow – a gesture that he was picking up from Sara. "A little early in the evening to be preparing for bed, isn't it, brother?" he asked Moby. It was the first time in his memory that Ian could remember Mobius looking erassrassed. "The floor is cold and hard," Moby said, eyes down as he smoothed out wrinkles in the downy fabric, "Po deserves softness and warmth."

Ian suppressed a grin. "You might as well get the pillow and quilt out too," he said. Now, shining chocolate eyes lifted and Mobius frowned. "That would be both inappropriate and presumptuous," Moby said, in a tone of gentle reprimand. Ian nodded. "Of course, you're right," he replied, put in his place, "Sorry." Mobius cast a furtive glance toward the kitchen. He stood still for a moment, apparently mulling something over in his mind. He then crouched down beside Ian who was now digging through the small cache of films by the television. Leaning in, Moby softskedsked, "Ian, is Po encumbered in any way?" Ian finally found the porno film that he and Sara had been obliquely discussing earlier. He conveniently dropped it behind the T.V. where, hopefully, no one would be able to find it. Turning his head to face Moby, Ian frowned. "Encumbered?" he asked. He wasn't sure that he understood what Mobius wanted to know.

Moby sighed wondering if Ian was trying to be obtuse. "Does Po have a man?" Moby rephrased his question, forced to be brutally blunt. Ian looked dumbfounded, both at this question coming from Mobius and because he realized that he didn't know the answer. Ian cleared his throat to gain a moment while he tried to recall past conversations with Sara related to Vicki and her personal life. "I don't remember Sara ever mentioning that Vicki was involved with anyone," he finally replied, "But the subject just may never have come up. I guess I don't really know. Do you want me to find out?" Mobius dropped his eyes again and straightened an invisible wrinkle in the perfectly flat featherbed. "Perhaps," Moby said, "Allow me to cogitate on your kind offer." "Sure," Ian responded, turning back to find some films for Sara and Vicki to choose among.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sara and Vicki had just finished wrapping up and putting away the leftover pizza and salad. "Ian always makes enough food to feed an army," Sara observed, smiling affectionately. "That's cool," Vicki responded, "We'll have lunch all ready for tomorrow. How come these plates are the only dishes? Shouldn't there be pans and bowls and stuff from making and cooking the pizza?" Sara smirked. "Welcome to the Nottingham method of kitchen management," she said, "Ian cleans up as he cooks." Vicki smiled. "Well, god bless the little dear," she said, "I thought that we'd be in here for an hour cleaning up the mess. Is he this neat about everything?"

Sara put down her dishtowel and grinned. "What exactly are you asking, Vick?" she said. Vicki flushed. "Yikes, Pez," she said, "Is that all that's on your mind any more? It was a perfectly innocent question." Sara put the last dish away. "Sure," Sara replied, "Yes. Ian tends to be fastidious about most things that he does. It comes from his military training, I think. Of course, Irons kept him on a pretty tight leash too." "Military training, huh," Vicki said, "Then Mobius is probably the same way. They were in the military together, right?" "Yeah," Sara confirmed, "The Black Dragon Unit, remember? Lethal and loyal courtesy of Vorschlag Industries." "Does it ever scare you, Pez?" Vicki asked, "Being so tangled up with a man with that kind of background? Someone so deadly and…," Sara turned to look at Vicki directly. "And what, Vick?" she asked "Fucked up?"

Vicki shrugged, wanting to avoid any further explication. "Is it Ian we're talking about?" Sara asked, "Or are we really hedging around Mobius here?" "A lot of the history is the same," Vicki said. Sara nodded. "Very true," she said, "And you're right, a lot of the problems in a relationship would probably be similar, so here's the scoop. It ain't easy living with a Black Dragon but, man, is it worth the trouble." Vicki's face lit up with a goofy smile. "Yeah?" she asked. "You bet your ass, Po," Sara replied, again imitating Moby's distinct rendering of Vicki's name, "So, if I were you, I'd go for it."

"Do you need help out there?" Ian called from the living room. "Nah, baby," Sara called back, "We're done." Turning to Vicki, she asked, "Aren't we?" Vicki nodded. Saut hut her hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed. "The world could end in five days," she said, "If I were you, I wouldn't waste time farting around. Jump the guy first chance you get." That image flitted through Vicki's mind and made her laugh out loud. "Not exactly my style, Pez," she replied, "But I hear what you're saying. I'll figure something out." "Good," Sara said, turning out the kitchen light and walking into the living room, "Lis tos too damn short."

Sara's eyes fell on Ian and Vicki's concerns dropped from her mind. "Here we are, ace," Sara said, her eyes devouring Ian as if they'd been apart days instead of minutes, "Did you think we fell down the drain?" Ian grinned at her the the sofa. "If that happened," he replied, "I'd worry about the drain." Sara grinned back at him. "You've got a smart mouth, Nottingham," she said, studying that full lower lip. He felt her warm regard and a tiny tremor started in his gut and traveled downward. "You're too far away, detective," he said, voice dropping and eyes darkening. Sara started to move toward the sofa. Vicki, who had been watching their exchange, figured she'd better jump in. "Before you two pounce on each other again," she said, "Can we pick out a movie?"

Sara stopped and looked at her, annoyed. "I don't pounce, Dr. Po," she replied, "And neither does Ian." Ian raised his head from the bunch of DVD jackets he was now studying. "Speak for yourself," he said. Sara looked at him sternly. "You can pounce when your ribs are healed, buster," she said, "Not before." He made a little sound and dropped his head back down. Vicki laughed. "What?" Sara asked. "I think your significant other just told you to get stuffed," Vicky replied. Sara swung her head around to look at Ian, who was fully focused on the movie selection for the eveni"Ia"Ian?" she said. "Yes?" he asked, raising his head, the picture of innocence. She hated it when he did that. She couldn't even get mad because he was so cute in the way that he did it. Even Mobius was smiling. Sara shook her head, frustrated. "Never mind," she said, giving up, "So, what are the movie choices?"

Vicki walked over and dropped down next to Mobius on the featherbed. She reached up to take the four DVD cases out of Ian's hands. "'The Wind and the Lion,' 'The Way We Were,' 'The Terminator,' or 'Gone With the Wind,'" Vicki read. Sara smiled and asked, "Which is the odd item in this list?" "Gee," she added, looking at Ian, "I wonder who picked 'The Terminator'?" "I did, Sherlock," Vicki replied, "It's one of my favorite flicks." Sara shook her head. "Man, I'm batting a thousand tonight," she observed, "Maybe I better lie down on the sofa and be quiet." Vicki smirked at her.

"Let's do a poll," Vicki said, "Ian?" "The Wind and the Lion," he replied. "Sara?" Vicki continued. "Yeah," Sara said, "That's fine for me too. I can watch Sean Connery any day of the week." "Mobius?" Vicki asked. He spread his large hands and said, "I have seen none of these films and have no frame of reference. My choice is whichever film you would most like to view, Po." Vicki frowned and said, "Now that I think about it, 'The Terminator' hits a little too close to home right now. I guess I could force myself to watch Sean Connery if you twist my arm." "Don't tempt me," Sara mumbled, snuggling up next to Ian on the sofa. Vicki's head swiveled. "What was that, O Great and Fearsome Wielder?" she asked. "I said, 'get the light'," Sara replied.

Sara and Ian were stretched out on the sofa in their usual movie watching positions. He was on his left side, flat against the sofa back, with Sara on her left side in front of him, her back against his front. She rested her head on his left forearm, which was stretched out beneath her. His other arm was around her waist. Her right arm rested on his, their fingers linked together. Ian had removed his ring and tucked it safely away for the evening – neither of them wanted to precipitate any more accidents.

Vicki put the DVD in the player and turned on the T.V. using the remote. "I will extinguish the light, Po," Moby said. "Cool, thanks," she replied. After turning out the light, Mobius sat with his back against the sofa by Sara's and Ian's feet, so that he wouldn't block their view of the screen, his long legs were stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Vicki cleared her throat nervously and moved next to him, mimicking his position, her right shoulder just touching his left. "Here goes," she said, starting the DVD. Until they got caught up in the plot of the film, the full attention of both Vicki and Moby was locked on the single tiny point at which their two shoulders barely touched. Every few minutes, Sara would smile at them benignly and squeeze Ian's fingers to get his attention.er ier it happened the third time, he nipped her ear lobe and whispered, "Watch the movie, detective." "Spoil sport," she whispered back.

Sometime into the second hour of the movie, the previous late night and all the excitement of the day began to catch up with Vicki. Her eyes started to droop and her head started to list toward Moby's shoulder. Mobius would have been much more conscious of this development if he hadn't been so completely absd ind in the movie. Having had little time or inclination for this pastime in his life, he was drawn into a whole new world and captured by it. By the end of the film, he was the only one of the four left awake. After the credits finished rolling down the screen, Moby slipped the remote control from Vicki's nerveless fingers and clicked off the television and DVD player.

The sudden quiet woke Ian. He, in turn, woke Sara when he stretched his stiff legs. Sara said, "What?" Both men immediately said, "Shhh." "Pinky link," Sara whispered sleepily, her eyes still closed. Ian smiled and leaned forward to gently kiss her neck. "We'll do it tomorrow. I promise," he whispered, "Right now, I need to get you into bed. Okay?" "Mmm," she replied. "You need to sit up, love, or I can't move," Ian whispered. This time, she didn't even respond. "Would you like my assistance, my brother?" Mobius asked, smiling. "Please," Ian said, returning the smile.

Moby carefully eased Vicky away from his shoulder to lean against the sofa. He stood and bent down to effortlessly lift Sara in his arms. Sara put her arms around Moby's neck and curled herself in against his chest with a contented sigh. Ian pulled himself off the sofa and studied Sara with a rueful grin. "Hey detective," he whispered, "Don't get too comfortable there. You're in the wrong pair of arms." Sara made a soft sound but didn't wake. Moby shifted the sleeping Sara over to Ian. "Can you get Vicki settled on the sofa?" Ian whispered. Mobius nodded. "Goodnight, Moby," Ian said. "Goodnight to you and your lady, Ian," Mobius replied, "Sleep well." Ian disappeared into the bedroom with Sara in his arms and shut the door behind him.

Moby turned to the fireplace and added more wood to warm the cabin for the night ahead. Then, he got the sofa ready for Vicki, arranging the pillows for her head and shaking out the throw to tuck her into. That done, he dropped back down to the floor to remove her socks and shoes. He stopped, transfixed, holding one small bare foot in his large hand. Savoring the sensation, he shut his eyes. He stayed that way for several minutes until Vicki shivered in her sleep. Moby became all business after that because he wanted to get her warm under the covers before she caught cold.

Bending down, he lifted Vicki in his arms as if she were weightless. As Sara had done, Vicki automatically stretched her arms around his neck and settled herself against his chest with a deep sigh. This time, however, Moby's reaction was different. He stood stock still, letting her cuddle herself in his arms. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, sounding like heavy combers hitting a rocky beach at high tide. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Moby realized that he'd better get Vicki safely tucked in on the sofa before he fainted dead away. He shook his head a little to clear it, not understanding what was happening to him. He moved slowly to the sofa and put Vicki down as if she was made of porcelain.

When he had her in place, he pulled the fleece throw around her and tucked her in. Before he could move away again, Vicki made a soft sound in her sleep and tightened her arms around Moby's neck, pulling his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, sweet, and brief. With Vicki asleep, Mobius was far too much a gentleman to take advantage.gentgently disengaged Vicki's arms from around his neck and tucked them under the throw. "Goodnight, Po," he whispered. He was halfway across the room to get his pillow and quilt when he heard her reply, "Goodnight, Mobius." He froze in place, turning just his head and squinting back across the firelit room.

He remained utterly still, a great beast caught in a hunter's sights, until Vicki stretched a bit on the sofa making soft, sleepy noises. That broke the spell and he was able to move again. He gathered up the pillow and quilt, and carried them back to the featherbed. Moby put together his bed, then lay on his right side so that he could watch Vicki until he fell asleep. It had been a late night and long day for him too. In a few minutes, his breathing deepened and he slept. When she was sure he was asleep, Vicki opened her eyes and smiled.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Ian gently put Sara down on their bed. He sat on the side of the bed and carefully took off her shoes and socks. Next, he pulled her pants slowly down her legs and over her feet. He tossed them to the chair and then studied her sweatshirt, trying to figure out how to remove it without waking her. There didn't seem to be any good way so he just caught the hem and pulled it over her head as gently as he was able. Again, he tossed it to the chair. When he turned back to tuck her in, drowsy green eyes were regarding him. "Shit," he said, "I woke you." "What are you doing?" she asked, still a bit befuddled. "Putting you to bed," he replied. "Did you carry me in here with those broken ribs?" she asked, frowning. "No," he said, smiling back at her, "I used my arms." "Don't be a smart ass, Nottingham," she said, "You know what I mean." Pushing a lock of hair off her face, he responded, "Stop trying to pick a fight with me and go back to sleep."

Sara reached out to slip her hand under the waistband at the back of his sweatpants. She started to rub one hard-muscled cheek. "The pants you had on this morning were a lot easier to work with," she said, grinning. "I'm sure they were," he said, moving closer to her across the bed, "But they aren't around any more." "Ahh," Sara said, genuinely sorry, "You threw them away?" Ian nodded. "And I'm going to be doing laundry more often too," he said. "You could have worn them around the loft when we get back," she said. "Oh, r," ," he replied, "And moon Mrs. Miller." Sara grinned. "That would have gotten us the pot roast for sure," she said. Now, he laughed. "How about I learn to make you pot roast," he said, "And we keep all viewing and touching of my body parts strictly in your capable hands. Will that satisfy you?"

Sara sat up to slide her arms around Ian and nuzzle the back of his neck. "Satisfy me?" she asked, "Hmm, I'm not sure. Can I give said body parts a trial run before I accept that deal?" Ian slowly stroked her arms where they held him. Grinning, he said, "Just remember. You break it, you bought it." "Considering your present fragility, I intend to be very careful," she said. He loosened her arms to pull his sweatshirt over his head with only a tiny wince of pain. "I'm not that fragile," he assured her, voice husky. Standing, he yanked off his pants and shoes, again with only a small grimace when a sharp pain flashed through his side. Sara scooted back over on the bed to give Ian room to join her.

When he turned to her after throwing his discarded clothes on the chair, her eyes roamed lovingly over his beautiful body. "Now that you mention it," she purred, "There's actually some of you that looks downright sturdy; but that is, after all, a casual observation. As Moby says: 'the proof is in the pudding'." Iaiseaised an eyebrow. "Did you just compare me to pudding, detective?" he asked. She continued to study him from head to toe, her eyes lingering in favorite spots along the way. "Oh no, baby," she said, "You are crème brulee, a gourmet confection." Ian grinned at her seductively and asked, "Want a taste?" Sara held out her arms to him and he moved right into them, molding his long, warm body tight to hers.

Ian nuzzled his face in her hair, his arms wrapped around her. "God, you feel good," Sara whispered. His head dropped a little and he started to kiss her neck and lick her ear. Sara sighed deeply, then laughed breathlessly. Turning her face to his, she said, "Oops, what's that?" He caught her lower lip between his teeth and gave it a little nip. "Must be one of those sturdy parts that you mentioned bef" h" he murmured, capturing her lips with his and pushing his tongue between them. Sara ran her fingers up the muscles of his back until she reached the masses of his thick hair. She dug her fingers deep into his curls to hold his face to her. She needn't have bothered. He wasn't going anywhere. She felt his tongue move inside her mouth, feinting and parrying like a small, hot sword. She returned his every silken jab and sinuous stroke until they were both panting helplessly.

When they broke apart gasping, Sara ran one hand down past his bandaged upper arm to his hand where she linked her fingers with his. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she sighed, "Need to catch my breath for a minute." "Take your time," he said, as out of breath as she. Ian dropped soft butterfly kisses to her forehead, eyes, cheek, and chin. The kisses grew deeper when he moved to her neck and breastbone. Sara still held Ian's right hand with her left, their fingers locked, but his left hand moved in a long, sliding caress from her back to her waist to her hip. Light as a feather, he drew his fingertips across her stomach, stopping to dip one finger into the tiny crater of her navel. On the move again, his fingers swept slowly downward. Sara's hips arched up off the bed and she gasped when those clever fingers finally found their way to her hot cleft and the aching bud inside it. Sara was very wet and Ian used her slick arousal to thrust two fingers slowly in and out of her, while he stroked her with his thumb.

Ian lifted his head from her shoulder and Sara tightened her fingers in his hair to bring his mouth back to hers. They devoured each other in a series of long, hot kisses that left them both breathless and shaking. All the while, he continued giving his hard, steady attention to her burning center. When their lips finally pulled apart, Sara cried out, her body arching in a wrenching orgasm. Afterwards, she melted into him, bones liquid and yielding. When she could talk again, Sara said, "You offered me a taste, remember?" She nuzzled his neck, licking the sensitive spot under his chin. Ian's breathing quicklew rew ragged. "Did I?" he managed, "My brain doesn't seem to be working very well at the moment." "That's alright, baby," she replied, "You don't have to think about this, just lay back and let yourself feel it."

Sara gently pushed Ian flat down on the bed and rose up over him. She started at his broad shoulders, planting soft, warm kisses on his smooth skin. Wherever she found a scar, she licked. He had way too many scars for such a young man. Because she had ypasypass the area of his chest wrapped in bandage, she was at his belly in no time. She ran her tongue around and in the scoop of his belly button. He shivered, making a sweet, little sound in the back of his throat. She traced a long, jagged scar on the right side of his stomach just below the navel with her hot tongue. When she finished lapping it, she asked softly, "What's this one from?" "Knife – big one," he replied, "I got careless." She raised her head and their eyes met. "That was before you belonged to me," she said, "No more carelessness is allowed. Understand, Nottingham?" His eyes smoldered golden, full of deep molten depths. "Yes," he said, "I understand." He reached one hand down to touch her hair where it fanned across his stomach.

Sara dropped her head back down, sliding her hands along his slender hips, fingernails scraping lightly. She heard him make that little sound again and smiled. Just as her mouth brushed the soft hair at his groin, she raised her head and said, "Now, remember, you've got to keep the noise down. We have guests. Okay?" Ian lifted his head from the pillow to look back at her. "I'll try to be quiet," he said, "Why? What are you planning to do to…" His words ended in a gasp as she ran her tongue up and down him like she was licking a big lollipop. "Oh god," he moaned desperately, turning his face to bury it in the pillow. She smiled. She took the whole tip of his growing erection in her mouth and sucked hard causing his hips to jerk up off the mattress and his hands to grip the sheets. Another deep, muffled groan escaped him.

Sara took the head of his hard shaft between her lips and very lightly nipped him with her teeth. Her mouth filled with a little spurt of sour and salty fluid that spilled from him and she swallowed it. At the same time, his hips bucked again and Ian gasped, "Sara, please. I can't." "Yes, you can," she said, "Sit uph yoh your back against the headboard." Panting loudly, he did as she asked. She crawled back up the bed and threw her leg across him to sit on his lap. She felt his strong, warm hands slip under her bottom to support her. She reached out to push back dark gold-streaked locks that had fallen across his face.

"Where's that sweet shy man who was so afraid that his lovemaking would disappoint me?" she asked. Ian leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers. "He's right here," he whispered, "Sharing space with a more experienced lover who adores you and can never seem to get enough of you. Do you miss him? Should I let him out of hiding more?" She smiled and said, "Nah. I like this Ian even better. I really liked the part about not being able to get enough of me." He gave her a sexy grin. "You did, huh?" he asked. She nodded and he pulled her forward and lifted her to settle back down on the long, hard length of him. Sara shut her eyes and let out a deep sigh as she felt him fill her. He bent his knees up behind her, tipping her forward so that he pushed even deeper inside her.

Sara opened her eyes and put her hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward to kiss Ian deeply, she started to rock her hips back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. His hands settled on her hips to join in the hypnotic movement. They were able to draw out the pleasure for a long time, allowing their excitement to ebb and flow by varying the pace of their lovemaking. Finally, though, they reached a point where both of them were starting to strain for the release they'd been holding back too long. Sara pushed against his shoulders and said in a needy growl, "Push down flatter on the bed." He dropped his knees and slid his body further down the bed. Sara caught his hands in hers and raised them above his head, holding them pinned to the headboard. Then, she leaned forward and started to push her body against his hard, drawing him almost fully out of her only to plunge all the way back down on him a moment later.

"The bed – the noise," Ian gasped. "Too bad," Sara gasped back, "They should be asleep by now. If they aren't, that's just too bad. I'm not stopping." "You won't get an argument from me," he panted. "Oh, god, Sara," he added, as she ratcheted the pace up another notch, "I can't keep this up much longer." "Me neither," she moaned, her voice spiraling a s a soft cry as an orgasm exploded deep inside her, its shock waves traveling outward. Ian came a moment later, clenching her hands where he held them and throwing his head back with a hoarse cry.

Sara felt Ian slide a bit further down the bed to lay flat. She started to move off of him but felt a warm hand on her back. "Stay, please," he whispered in her ear, "You're like a beautiful, silky blanket – all soft skin and afterglow. You smell wonderful." She snorted softly, amused. "I smell like sex," she whispered in his ear. "Yeah," he replied, a sleepy smile in his voice. "What about your ribs?" she asked. "They're happy, feeling great – just like the rest of me," he replied. "Your ribs are happy?" she asked. "I'm happy," he said, his voice a drowsy whisper, "I'm crazy in love." She pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty chest and whispered back, "Me too, ace. Me too."

Sara woke the next morning still on top of Ian. Squirming a little, she became aware that he was also still inside her. He slept peacefully beneath her, right arm thrown up above his head and left arm holding her firmly against his body. Sara ventured a stealthy move to try to separate from him. Ian sighed in his sleep and tightened his grip. She dropped her head bac his his shoulder to plan her next move; then lay there breathing in the unique spicy/musky scent of him. It was a heady combination of clean male, Ian, and sex. She had to smile to herself when she realized that she was getting aroused all over again. When she next lifted her head, big, sleepy jungle-cat eyes stared back at her. "Hi," he said, still half asleep.

Sara tightened her inner muscles around him. She shifted against his body to raise her face and press her lips to his in a hot, open-mouthed good morning kiss. Her tongue touched his and, at the same time, she felt him jump inside her. As the kiss became more erotic, he grew to fill her once again. Sara felt his other arm come around her to hold her tight. Gripping her to him, Ian rolled Sara over onto her back and started to push into her with deep, hard thrusts. Their mouths never parted. She slid her hands down his back to grip each firm cheek, digging her nails into the muscles there as they clenched and unclenched under her fingers. Their lips finally parted as they were forced to take in deeper breaths, both of them panting loudly. Sara pressed her face against his neck and his silky fragrant hair tumbled over her nose and eyes.

She lifted her legs to clamp her thighs high around him, her heels digging into his back. Repositioning himself, Ian stroked much deeper into her, hitting a spot that sent an intense jolt of pleasure through her entire body. She cried out his name, her breath hot against his neck. He angled himself to try to give her that pleasure again and again. Sara's muscles spasmed around him as he drove her into sensory overload. She shook through a series of orgasms that left her limp and feeling as if every nerve ending was exposed to his touch. Sara slid her arms up the sides of his body to wind them tightly around his neck, pulling him down to her. She bit the side of Ian's neck, hard enough to mark him but not hard enough to draw blood. That pushed him over the edge and they came together in a wild explosion of raw sensation.

Several moments passed where they simply lay quietly tangled together, sweaty and limp; then, Ian rolled down beside her, pulling her into his embrace. His heart was still racing beneath her ear, which rested on his chest. She turned her face to kiss his damp skin. "How are your ribs?" she asked in a soft gasp, still breathing hard. Ian looked startled when he realized that their exertions had caused him no pain. He hadn't given the broken ribs a thought. He stroked her damp hair and said, "Healed, I guess. No pain at all." "And your arm?" she added. Ian reached across her body to pull the bandage off his left arm. It revealed smooth, unblemished skin. There wasn't even a scar. Sara frowned and said, "Well, at least the Witchblade was as good as Its word. That's something." Ian smiled, running his fingers through her honey-brown locks, separating strands. "That's actually quite a lot," he replied. Sara shrugged. She wasn't anywhere near ready to forgive It that easily for what It had done to him.

Sara ran her hand over the elastic bandage wrapped around him. "Now, I can unwrap you and touch those gorgeous abs again," she said, smiling. "And I can go back to my workout routine this morning before I start to get stiff," he said. She smirked, thinking about what they'd just done. He saw the look on her face and said, "Don't say it." She kissed his chest again and said, "I'm dying for coffee but I'm really not ready to face anyone else." She raised her eyes pleadingly to his. He laughed and said, "You don't have to give me that look. I'd be glad to make you coffee and bring it in here." She stretched up to touch her lips to his. "You spoil me," she said. "Wait until we're married," he replied, "Then, I'll really spoil you." Her eyes sparkled. "How?" she asked. "You'll just have to marry me to find out," he said.

Ian disengaged himself from Sara and got out of bed. He went to the dresser to get a clean pair of pajamas. After getting them out, he turned back toward thd bud but stopped, wrinkling his nose. "Wow," he said, "We better air out this room before Vicki comes in here or we'll never hear the end of it. It smells like a couple of tag teams had an orgy free-for-all." Sara grinned. "And how would you know what that smells like, Mr. Nottingham?" she asked. He pulled on black silk pajama bottoms and grinned back at her. "I assume," he replied. He shrugged into the matching pajama top but left it unbuttoned. "Why don't you go back to sleep for a while," he suggested, "I'll wake you when I come back with your coffee." "Are there any clean sheets in here?" she asked, sniffing the air. He nodded and replied, "Bottom drawer." "Maybe I'll change them," she said, not ready to deal with Vicki's pointed barbs. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "Smart move," he said, before slipping out of the bedroom door and shutting it behind him.

Ian tiptoed across the living room. He could see a throw-covered lump on the sofa that he knew must be Vicki. Not even the top of her head was visible. When he moved further into the room, he was surprised to see Mobius still asleep on the featherbed. Ian couldn't remember the last time he'd been in Moby's company when he'd been the first one awake in the morning. "Moby must be mellowing," he thought. Ian's lips twitched as his eyes moved from Mobius back to the Vicki-lump on the sofa. Continuing quietly into the kitchen, he set about brewing a full pot of coffee, trying to make as little noise as possible. While the first pot was perking, he put on water for tea. By the time a groggy Moby appeared in the kitchen doorway, Ian had the carafe filled with coffee and was brewing a second pot. He sat at the kitchen table sipping tea, his long legs balanced on the other kitchen chair and his bare feet crossed at the ankles.

Ian smiled at the rare sight of a disoriented Mobius. "Tea?" he asked his friend. Moby nodded and said, "That libation would be most welcome, my brother." Ian got up to pour hot water into the mug that he had waiting, while Mobius sat at the kitchen table. Ian put the steaming mug down in front of him and resumed his seat. Neither man spoke as Moby carefully dunked the floating teaball up and down in his mug. Ian studied the other Black Dragon with amused eyes over the rim of his mug as he sipped herb tea. He knew Moby well enough to tell that there was something on his mind. Ian suspected that his friend was having a hard time getting it out and, so, had a pretty good idea of the subject matter. He decided to give Moby a break.

"So," Ian asked, "Have any trouble putting Vicki to bed last night?" Moby cleared his throat and raised troubled umber eyes to look at Ian. "She kissed me, Ian," he said. Golden eyes widened. "Really?" Ian replied. He kept it brief because he figured that what Moby wanted was a sounding board. Moby nodded and continued, "But she appeared to be asleep when she did this. Therefore, she could not have even been aware that it was I she was kissing. She could have been dreaming that I was someone else." Ian hid a smile and said, "She could have also been awake."

Moby looked surprised. "Are you suggesting that Po employed subterfuge?" he asked, "To what purpose?" "If she's as shy as you are, it would have been hard for her to take that first step without leaving herself a safety valve," Ian said. "Safety valve?" Mobius repeated. "Yeah," Ian explained, "If you weren't interested, she could always pretend it had happened in her sleep and it was unintentional." "And if I was interested?" Moby asked. Ian shrugged. "It would get you thinking about what happens next," Ian suggested, "Looks like it did the trick. I'd say that the next step is yours. Any plans?"

Mobius tiltes hes head, considering Ian's question. "The kiss that we shared was enjoyable but it lasted barely a moment," Moby finally replied, chocolate eyes shining, "I would like to experience the effect created when the experience has a substantially longer duration." Ian grinned and said, "Knock your socks off, my brother." Mobius hunched over the table, sipping his tea. "It is decidedly difficult to, as you say, 'knock my socks off' when we are all at such close quarters here so much of the time," he replied. If anyone understood that problem, it was Ian. "I hear you," Ian replied, "Why don't you take Vicki for a walk this afternoon?" White teeth flashed in a pleased smile. "That is an excellent suggestion, my brother. Thank you," Moby said. "My pleasure," Ian replied, a bit bemused to be giving romantic advice when, not so long ago, his own romantic assignations had all been fantasies.

"Now," Ian said, "I'd better get some coffee to my significant other before she trades me in for someone more attentive." Mobius smiled, "Why not take the carafe and some breakfast to her as well, Ian?" he suggested, "In this way, you can share more time alone together before the Master arrives?" Ian smiled. "That's a great idea," he said, "Thank you." "It is my pleasure," Moby replied, thinking that he would now be able to have breakfast alone with Po when she woke up. Ian made a plate of cinnamon toast and put it on a tray with the carafe of coffee and Sara's mug. He poured himself more tea, adding that to the tray as well.

As Ian was leaving the kitchen, Mobius stopped him, looking chagrined, "Please forgive me, Ian," he said, "I was so distracted that I failed to inquire about the state of your injuries." Ian flashed his friend a quick smile. "They're healed – just as the Witchblade promised. Perhaps later this morning, you'll spar with me. I've missed doing my katas and need to regain my edge." Moby smiled back. "I would be most happy to aid you in this endeavor," he replied, "A dull blade can only spread dissension, not cut through treachery." "Right," Ian replied, "Why don't you have some more tea? Water's still hot." Shaking his head, Ian disappeared into the bedroom.

Sara was sitting cross-legged on a clean, made bed wearing her old terry bathrobe. As soon as the door closed behind Ian, she held out her arms. He smiled and moved toward her as she said, "Coffee," in a breathless, needy voice. His smile turned rueful. "I should have known that that expression of desire wasn't for me," he said with the tiniest edge to his voice. Sara, however, knowing his insecurities very well by now, caught it. "Please tell me that you're not jealous of a cup of coffee, ace," she said. He blinked. "I guess I'm jealous of anyone or anything that you want more than you want me," he replied, considering it. "Then you're going to spend a lot of our life together unhappy, baby," Sara said, "Because it's not in my nature to be that dependent on anyone. If I was, I couldn't have survived my life to be here with you now."

Ian put the tray on the bedside table. He kept his back to her, pouring her coffee. He was trying to conceal the fact that she'd just hurt him rather badly. Keeping his expression neutral with some effort, he turned and handed her a steaming mug of coffee. He put the tray with the cinnamon toast, plates, and napkins in the center of the bed between them. That done, he sat cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, opposite her, sipping his tea. Through the whole process, he'd kept his eyes down. He'd learned very well that they always showed too much of what was going on inside him. Sara grabbed a piece of cinnamon toast on a napkin, ignoring the plates. She watched him as she nibbled. Finally, she said, "Okay, Ian. Let's have it."

"Have what?" he asked, eyes still down, blowing on tea that had cooled long ago. "Look at me, Ian," she said. Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Yup," Sara thought, "There it is. I've hurt him again. How has he survived when he's this damn fragile emotionally?" But a second later, the answer to her own question occurred to her. "He's survived because he's never been in a relationship like this. This is his first time," she remembered. Aloud, she said, "We've danced around this issue before, honey," she said, "Maybe it's time we really discussed it." Ian's eyes widened. "That's okay," he said, scared, "We don't need to talk about it." Not surprised as she watched fear join hurt in those cheaters of his, Sara said, "Yeah, we do. Your reaction is proof of that."

Panic now joined the fear and hurt which were already fighting for dominance in Ian's wide golden eyes. Sara watched the familiar emotions kick in while she fought her own predictable reactions to them, annoyance and impatience. "Not this time," she thought, willing herself to be patient with him. She struggled to remind herself that, in many ways, Ian was still a child emotionally. No matter that the Witchblade had cleansed him of chemical residues, conditioning, and some of the emotional scars, Kenneth Irons had left his considerable mark on Ian's psyche.

Sara also knew that, in many ways, she had simply replaced Irons in Ian's life. Ian still lived for someone other than himself. Although Sara was a far gentler mistress than Irons had been a master, Ian – by his own choice – was still a slave, albeit a loved one. It was the way that he had learned how to survive. Sara understood why he acted the way that he did, but she didn't want to be the object of such complete adoration and devotion. She wanted a partner, not a worshiper. She wanted him to live for himself, not for her. She just wasn't sure that she could make him understand that she wanted to help him, not hurt him. She wanted him to have a life independent of her.

"When the Convergence is over, Ian," she said, "You need to start working on building a life that's your own." His eyes darkened to deep amber and, as she watched, the panic reflectherehere rose. Sara shook her head. "Stop," she said, "Before you work yourself into an emotional frenzy, I'm not saying that we don't have a future together. We do. I'm saying that you need to have your own interests, your own work, your own friends, your own life, as well as our life together." "But I don't want…," he started. "How do you know, Ian?" she interrupted him to ask, "You've never had it, have you? How do you know you don't want it?" He had no answer to that. She could sense his confusion and fear, feel him still trying to pull back from talking about this.

"Please, baby," Sara urged, "Don't shut down on me here. Okay? Talk to me about this." Ian dropped his head again. "What do you want me to say?" he whispered. Sara pushed a hand through her hair to give herself a moment before she answered him. God, she wanted to throttle him when he acted like this. She fought to rein in her temper. "Ian, before you left Irons to come live with me, he directed your life," she said, "Your whole existence was what he told you it should be. Since you've been with me, your life has been directed by my needs and the demands of the Witchblade. If we come out of the Convergence alive to build a new life together, I want you to make some choices that are all your own." There was a long pause before he asked, "What if you don't like the choices that I make?" "Then we talk about them together and come to some kind of compromise that works for both of us," she explained.

Ian's head was still down. He was holding his tea mug so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His resistance stood as firmlyweenween them as the wall that they were learning to build to block the Gate. Sara sighed. "Okay," she thought, "Maybe this is as far as we can go for now. I'll just leave him with one more thought and hope that it will percolate in that fertile brain of his." "I know that this line of thought scares you, honey," she said, "Deciding what they want to do with their lives scares the hell out of most people – but it can be exciting too. Look at the possibilities that are open to you. Lot tht the amazing abilities you already have. And, of course, I'll be there to help you however I can. You won't be alone."

Ian's head came up. The beautiful golden eyes were still troubled. "Promise?" he asked. "What are you so afraid of, Ian?" Sara asked softly, "Being alone?" He shook his head. "I've lived most of my life alone," he replied, "Mr. Irons may have designed the life that I led, but I followed it alone. I had no family in the normal sense of the word, no friends. I don't want to be alone again, but I could be if it was necessary." "Okay," she said, accepting his statement at face value, "Then what is it?" "Losing you," he said softly. Sara sighed, frustrated with his flawed logic. "Ian, you lived most of your life not even knowing that I existed," she said, "You managed without me just fine."

Ian shook his head again. "You're wrong," he said, "I've tried to tell you this before but you don't seem to hear me when I say it. You've always been with me. Before you were in my arms, you were in my head. You filled my dreams at night and my fantasies during the day. Before I ever met you at the museum, I had the dream of you to aspire to – you've always been with me, Sara. Loving and protecting you is my reason for living." "Damn it, Ian," she said, "It scares me to be that important to you." "Then maybe the problem is yours, love," he said quietly. That stopped her cold.

A wry smile touched Sara's lips. "He really did that well," she thought, "Turned the tables. Ancan\can't just dismiss it out of hand because he might be right." Maybe guidelines for how people lived in the real world didn't apply to them at all. Maybe his slavish devotion to her wasn't an aberration – maybe it was a calling. Maybe having Ian's life dependent on her own desires and continued survival was business as usual in Witchblade Land and it was she who must change her perceptions. How much of Ian's extreme need for her grew out of the little boy that Irons had damaged so badly and how much was just intrinsic to the Wielder's Protector? "Shit, shit, shit," Sara thought, "My head hurts."

Sara shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said looking at him, "No simple resolution here. We're probably going to be coming to grips with this for a long time to come. I don't want to hurt you, Ian. I hate hurting you. But you want me to feel that same there's-no-life-without-you kind of love for you that you have for me and I can't do it. I'm a survivor. If I lost you, it would hurt me desperately. For a long, long time, I'd probably want to die, but I wouldn't. I would go on. That doesn't mean that I love you any less than you do me. I just love differently than you do. Can you understand that at all?" Ian nodded slowly. "I think that I'm beginning to a little,\ rep replied.

"Good," she said, "If that's true then all this crap we just went through wasn't for nothing. I need more coffee." Ian started to move to the bedside table to get the carafe but Sara held up a hand. "Nah, baby," she said, "Drink your tea and eat some toast. I'm perfectly able to get my own coffee. I let you do way too much me ame as it is." He looked at her a little sadly. "But it gives me pleasure to do things for you, Sara," he said, "Please don't take that away out of some perverse idea that you're taking advantage of me." Sara threw up her hands and said, "Fuck it. I give up. Do what you want. If it pleases you to get my coffee, have at it."

Ian's cheeks flushed a little as he stood to get Sara her coffee. "Now you're angry with me," he said softly. Sara shut her eyes and sighed. Ian stopped where he stood, hand halted in midair reaching for the carafe holding her coffee. She opened her eyes. Frustrated green eyes looked deep into unhappy amber eyes. She held open her arms and said, "C'mere, you beautiful pain in the ass." Ian dropped to his knees beside the bed, putting his arms around her and his head in her lap. Sara dug her fingers deep into his wild dark mane and stroked his head soothingly. He melted into her lap making a sound like a deep purr. They stayed like that for several minutes before Sara lifted his chin to look into his eyes and say, "I must love you a lot, Nottingham, or I would have certainly killed you by now." He grinned back at her. "You would have tried," he replied.

Vicki stirred on the sofa in the living room, making a soft, gurgling noise. She fought a battle with the throw for a minute or two, emerging with wide eyes and tousled hair. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at the floor. Moby's "bed" had been put away and he was gone. She strained to hear a noise from the kitchen but knew from experience that neither Mobius nor Ian made a sound when they were trying to be quiet. She sat up, folding up the throw and fluffing the pillows. Then, she detoured to the bathroom to clean herself up a bit. Eventually, feeling much more presentable, she made her way to the kitchen. Only to find it empty.

Wondering where everyone was, Vicki poured herself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table. She'd only taken a couple of sips when the cabin door opened and Mobius came in, his arms full of firewood. He gave her a big smile and said, "Good morning, Po. The sun has risen strongly and it is a beautiful day." Although Vicki was still waiting for the caffeine to kick in, she did manage to smile and say, "Good morning, Mobius." Vicki shivered a little, chilled by the cold air that Moby had let into the kitchen. She heard him clattering around in the living room as he refilled the wood box and freshened the fire. When he returned to the kitchen, he put the kettle back on for more tea. Vicki studied his strong back, remembering that his arms had felt like granite when he'd held her. That memory warmed her up all right.

To distract herself, she asked, "Are Sara and Ian still asleep?" Moby shook his head. "They are both awake but are sharing some private time together in the bedroom," he replied, "Ian made breakfast and took it to his lady with her coffee." "I'm sure that Sara appreciated that," she said, "She's like me. We're not fit to be around until we get our coffee in the morning. You make really excellent coffee. You did make this, right?" He nodded. "I did," he said, "Thank you, Po. Would you like me to make you some breakfast?"

Vicki dropped her eyes. She wasn't used to having a man offer to wait on her like this. "I thought that I might just zap some of the leftover pizza in the microwave," she said. Moby looked horrified at that thought. "That is not a proper breakfast, Po," he said, "I can make you eggs, waffles, French toast. What engages your attention?" Vicki dearly loved French toast but never made it for herself because it was too much trouble. "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked. Moby shook his head. "I really love French toast," she said with a giggle. He grinned at her as he opened the refrigerator to begin pulling out ingredients. "Then you shall have it," he said.

As they sat eating French toast and sausage, they made careful small talk. Neither one of them were brave enough to approach what had happened between them the night before. Finally, Vicki said, "So, as I understand it, today is going to be a sort of dress rehearsal for the Convergence. Is that right?" Mobius nodded. "I believe that is what the Master intends," he replied, referring to Lazar, "We will go to the battleground that the Wielder has selected. She and Ian will finally use Cleopatra's orb to wield their power." Vicki looked worried. "From what Sara's told me, that orb thingy is really powerful, isn't it?" she asked, "Does anyone have a clear idea of what's going to happen when they try that?" "I am sure that the Master knows what he is doing," Moby said soothingly.

A thought suddenly occurred to Vicki and she studied him curiously. "Do you get to play with the lance today too?" she asked. Moby nodded again and said, "Yes. I believe that it is also the Master's intention to have me develop my skill using the Longinus Lance to defend the Wielder and Protector." "Cool," she said, grinning. Mobius frowned. "This is not a game, Po," he reminded her softly. "No, of course not," she stammered, flustered, "I just meant that it will be interesting to see you work with it, that's all." They were silent for a few minutes and then Vicki said, "I'll be getting my first lesson from Sara today too." Moby turned back from the stove where he was pouring himself more tea. "Lesson?" he asked. "Sara's going to teach me how to shoot so that I can help you to defend them," she said.

Mobius dropped the kettle back to the stovetop with a resounding clang. "No," he said, his expression stunned, "Absolutely not." Vicki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I beg your pardon?" she replied. "You cannot do this, Po," he said, "It is insanity. I brought you here because you are a healer and your considerable proficiency in this area will most certainly be needed. You are not called as a destroyer. To tread that path is lunacy." "Whoa there, big guy," she replied, "First of all, I can be whatever I choose to be and I don't require your permission for it. Because I'm trained as a doctor doesn't mean that I can't learn to shoot a gun to help out my friend when she's up against a wall – no pun intended. I want to help any way that I can. When this goes down, you're not going to be able to guard both Sara and Ian at the same time. You're just one person even if you are a really big, strong, deadly one. You just can't do it alone."

"The Wielder has agreed to this?" Mobius asked. Vicki nodded. "You betcha," she replied. "I believe that this is purest folly. Is there nothing that I can say to dissuade you from this desperate course of action?" he asked. Vicki shook her head. "I appreciate your concern though," she said. He quietly gathered their breakfast dishes together into the sink and began washing them without another word. Now, there was a big invisible wall between the two of them that she didn't know how to breach. Vicki sighed softly. "Can I help you with those dishes?" she asked, figuring he'd probably say no. He shook his head, not turning around to face her. She sighed again, a little louder. "Well, then, I guess that I'll go get a shower," she ventured. This time he just nodded, back still to her. Her sigh was quite audible as she slunk out of the kitchen and headed toward the bathroom – only to see Sara disappear inside, shutting the door behind her.

A moment later, Ian came out of the bedroom carrying the tray with the breakfast dishes. Vicki took a moment to goggle at the black silk pajamas he was ing.ing. He grinned at her, "Hey, matey," he said, "How's the weather holding out here? Clear sailing ahead?" Vicki's moutrnedrned down. "Arghhh, Captain," she replied, "I'm afraid that we may have hit some squalls. We ain't sinking, but we is sure foundering." He frowned and asked, "Anything I can do?" Vicki shrugged. "Talk to your overprotective friend. Maybe you can get through to him. I'm going to take a shower as soon as Pez gets done in the bathroom," seplieplied. Ian nodded and headed toward the kitchen.

Mobius was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his tea, dishes done. Ian now took Moby's former position at the sink to clean up the remains of his own breakfast. Ian glanced curiously over his shoulder at his friend. Moby looked glum and a bit angry. "Maybe Vicki told him she wasn't interested," Ian thought, "If she did, then she's sure been sending the wrong signals. I'd be angry too." Ian cleared his throat and asked, "What's wrong, Moby?" "The Wielder is going to teach Po how to shoot so that she also can serve as your guardian during the Convergence," Mobius replied.

Ian turned to face him, hands full of soapy water. "What?" he said, "That's nuts. She's a doctor not a warrior. She'll just get somebody killed – probably herself." Mobius held out his hand, vindicated by his friend's agreement. "As I said," he intoned, "Will you talk to the Wielder? Po will not listen to me." Ian thought of the whole discussion that he'd just gone through with Sara in the bedroom. If she had already agreed to help Vicki, she wasn't going to be very receptive to his objections, especially right now. "Uhh, sure," Ian said, hesitantly, "But let's give it a little while. Sara's kind of touchy at the moment. I'll talk to her tonight. Okay?" Mobius inclined his head, not very happy, "It would be better, my brother, to stop this lunacy before she ever handles a weapon," he said, "Still, a delayed dissent is better than no dissent at all." Ian nodded, also concerned about this new development.

The rest of the morning the tiny cabin was unusually quiet. Moby and Ian sparred both hand-to-hand and with blades while Vicki and Sara furtively watched them, trying not to appear enthralled. Everyone managed to get into the single bathroom at some point to shower, dressing in comfortable sweats. Ian and Moby went out to bury the creature that was still in the shed. It was starting to decompose and Lazar hadn't seemed to feel it necessary that he view it knowing the general type of creatures that they'd be facing. Besides, they knew how to kill this one, which was all they really cared about.

When Lazar appeared in the cabin around noon, he had a few moments before they noticed him to gauge the air of tension that he sensed among his trainees. "Hmm. Interesting," he thought, "Something is bubbling under the surface here." Then, Vicki turned and jumped, letting out a yelp when she saw Lazar watching them from the chair. "Jeez," she said, frowning at him, "Could you cough or something? I just lost another five years off my life." Mobius narrowed his eyes at her choice of words. Lazar smiled benignly and made a show of coughing into his hand. Vicki gave him a loopy grin. "Sorry," she said, "Didn't mean to snap at you. I guess I'm a little wired." Lazar nodded, accepting her apology. "Quite alright, Dr. Po," he said, "There's nothing like hard work to drive out nervous energy. We have much to accomplish today. Shall we get to it?"

Everyone put on warm outer wear and they headed en masse to the clearing that was about halfway between the cabin and the stream where Ian liked to go to be alone. It was a fairly large open field surrounded by tall oak trees, one of which housed the observation platform from which Sara had watched Ian's confrontation with X. In the summer, the field was a riot of wildflowers. Now, in early winter, it was a dry, dull expanse of dead grass and mud. Still, they could stand in the center of the clearing and see in every direction around them. Nothing human could come at them unawares. The potential abilities of supernatural creatures were, of course, a different matter entirely.

Lazar gave Ian a nod. Ian disappeared into the surrounding woods to retrieve the orb and e fre from the hideaway where he'd stashed them. While they waited for Ian to return with the objects of power, Vicki covertly studied Mobius. He'd been uncharacteristically withdrawn since their confrontation in the kitchen earlier that morning. She didn't have a clue what was going on in his mind, other than the fact that he was obviously still upset by her intention to actively participate in the Convergence as more than a healer. She hated the awkward distance that now hung between them but she didn't know how to bridge it. Consumed by such thoughts, Vicki perched herself on a large rock at the edge of the clearing. She settled in to watch the action and to look for an opportunity to reestablish the closeness that now eluded them.

Sara was also preoccupied. Standing in the middle of what would soon become their battleground, all the dreams, visions, and veiled allusions of the past month were coming back to haunt her. She'd realized that the landscape of her dream had now become reality. In her dream, this was the place where she'd seen Mobius fighting off creatures similar to the one that she'd shot, with Vicki crouching by his side. This was the place where she'd seen their wall collapse to let that lethal bolt of power come hurtling through such a little crack. This was the place where they'd save the world or their failure would mean the end of everything they knew. She felt her heart begin to race as that thought truly sunk in – not just the end of them, but of everything bright and good. She felt the terrible weight of responsibility drop on her shoulders like a concrete cloak.

At that moment, Ian stepped out from among the trees to the South of the clearing. He held the Longinus Lance in his left hand. As if there were a spiritual umbilical cord connecting them, his eyes were immediately drawn to Sara's. She felt him flood her with waves of absolute love and reassurance as a shield against her raging doubts and fears. As he got closer to her, his comfort got even stronger, wrapping itself around her jittery nerves like a lovely soft blanket. Her lips twitched as she felt herself being warmed in those golden eyes as if they were small suns. "They don't call you Protector for nothing, do they?" she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek. Ian turned his face to kiss her fingers. "Stop worrying," he whispered, "It will be fine. We'll be fine. You're not alone. We face it together – remember?"

Lazar let them have their moment before he asked, "Did you bring the orb, Protector?" Ian nodded and then carefully passed the lance over to Mobius. Moby took the lance in his right hand, shifting it around to get the heft of it. Suddenly, his luminous dark eyes widened and went blank as a montage of images flashed across his mind: an ancient warrior run through with a spear, a medieval knight on horseback carrying a lance, Adolf Hitler lying dead in his bunker, Jesus on the cross. Mobius gasped and swayed. Ian reached out a strong arm to steady his friend. Lazar said, "You must control the lance, Wielder, or it will control you." Moby swallowed hard, steadying himself and consciously calming his racing pulse. Exerting a visible effort of will, his mind cleared and he was his own master once again. Lazar smiled at the tall warrior. "Well done," he said, "But you must stay vigilant. As with all objects of power, the lure of the lance is seductive and treacherous. Be wary."

Lazar turned back to Ian. "The orb?" he repeated. Ian reached into his pocket and held out his left hand to Lazar. Cleopatra's orb sat self-contained and glowing with a fey light in the middle of his gloved palm. Lazar nodded but didn't attempt to take the orb from Ian. "What do you feel?" Lazar asked Ian, whose golden eyes were unusually bright and a bit dazed. Ian seemed to suddenly coack ack to himself from a great distance away. "Power," he whispered, "Immense power." Lazar nodded again, frowning. "We must be very cautious and exercise great care in handling the objects of power this close to the Convergence. The lines are coming together and the potential for great danger is all around us now," he warned, "Soon, you will begin to feel the impending rift wherever you are. It will draw itself around you like a second skin. You and the Wielder must be very strong to stay focused."

Ian nodded, dropping the orb back into his pocket until it was needed. He glanced over at Sara who was staring blankly across the clearing, lost in thought. Ian's heart ached for the trials that she'd have to endure. He desperately wanted to take them from her so that she could be safe and free of the responsibility that she bore. Picking up the strength of his desire to protect her from what was to come, Sara quickly swung her head around to meet Ian's gaze. Her eyes softened with love and she walked the few steps to his side. Her hand reached up to touch his cheek. Ian shut his eyes and leaned into her caress. "I'm alright, baby," she responded, as if he'd asked her aloud. His eyes opened again, deep amber now with love and desire. "I love you so much, Sara," he said softly. "I know," she whispered.

Lazar cleared his throat. "We had best get started while the daylight holds," he said gruffly. Ian continued to stare into Sara's eyes as if mesmerized. When she turned away to face Lazar, there was almost an audible snap as the connection between them was severed. "Please take the position of the Triumverate," Lazar requested. Sara moved parallel to Ian, about five feet away from him, facing the far side of the clearing. Lazar walked to a spot roughly ten feet in front of them and cleared a space on the ground, brushing away dead leaves and other debris. "Protector," he said to Ian, "Put the orb on the ground here." Ian did as Lazar had requested, gently placing the orb in the space that Lazar had cleared. That done, he went back to where Sara waited and took his position across from her, facing back toward the cabin.

Lazar moved well out of the way, over toward the rock at the side of the clearing where Vicki sat and Mobius stood watching. "Your ring, Protector," Lazar said, "Put it back on." Ian and Sara exchanged another long look before he took off his gloves and put them in his pocket. He removed Excalibur from the other pocket of his leather jacket. Ian sighed softly and slid his ring on to the second finger of his right hand. There was a loud crack of electricity and the orb began to glow with a blinding white light. It lifted off the ground about six inches and hung there, resting on a tripod of light that extended from the base of the orb to the earth beneath it. This was followed by a snicking sound of metal shifting as the Witchblade transformed into a gauntlet on Sara's right arm.

"Control your power. Hold on to it tightly. Do not let it get away from you," Lazar cautioned Sara and Ian, "The orb will try to take control. You must not allow that." He had to shout over the sounds of crackling energy that now echoed though the clearing. Tiny electrical charges, small zis ofs of lightning, were shooting from the orb. These little explosions of power were arcing ever closer to the Wielder and Protector, who now stood with their right arms extended toward each other. Suddenly, there was a blinding burst of incandescent light that formed into a bridge connecting the orb to the Witchblade and Excalibur. Ian and Sara were both lifted from the ground and tossed through the air like rag dolls to land in crumpled heaps several feet from their original positions. Just before he lost consciousness, Ian managed to pull Excalibur off his finger. When he did, the orb immediately went dark again and the fireworks ended.

For a couple of seconds, everyone was too stunned to move. Then, the three watchers exploded into motion. Vicki ran to Sara. Moby ran to Ian. Lazar moved to guard the orb. Vicki carefully turned Sara over onto her back. As Vicki raised Sara's eyelids to examine her pupils, Sara's flailing hand knocked Vicki's away. Her eyes shot open and she tried to sit up. Vicki put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Whoa, hold on there, Pez," she said, "You took a hell of a shock. Lay still here for a minute or two and let me check you out." Sara stopped struggling to let Vicki tend to her. "How's Ian?" she asked weakly. A few feet to the right, Moby gently slapped Ian's face trying to rouse him. He was out cold. Not getting any response, Mobius looked over to where Vicki examined Sara. "Po?" he called, "I cannot get Ian to wake."

Sara pushed Vicki's hands away from her and said, "Please go to him, Vick." "Only if you stay down and wait for me to come back," Vicki said sternly. Sara managed a nod, which sent a searing pain shooting through her head. "Go, please," she croaked. Vicki ran over to where Moby supported Ian's head and shoulders off the ground. Vicki raised his eyelid to study his pupil. "Get my bag," Vicki barked at Mobius. He immediately moved to recover the medical bag that was resting on the ground by the rock where she\een een sitting. He brought it back and set it beside her. "Hold up his head," she ordered Moby, digging around in the bag. As Moby once again raised Ian, Vicki unscrewed the cap from a small vial. She waved the opened vial under Ian's nose and, finally, his eyes fluttered open and he started violently.

Mobius kept his strong grip on Ian's shoulders, trying to hold him still. In a moment, Ian began to remember where he was and he quieted. Vicki pressed a restraining hagaingainst Ian's shoulder and looked carefully into his wide disoriented eyes. "How do youl?"l?" she asked him. "Like I was dropped off a building and landed on my head," he mumbled blearily. Suddenly, the golden eyes went wide and Ian pushed against both of them, nearly knocking Mobius aside. "Sara?" he cried desperately, trying to see past Vicki. "I'm fine, honey," Sara called to him, "Stay still and let Vicki take care of you." Ian's eyes slowly refocused on Vicki and he asked, "Is she okay?" "Better than you," Vicki replied, "Can you sit up on your own?" Ian started to nod but that set off shooting pains in his head. "Yeah, I think so," he said, pulling free of Moby's restraint to sit up on his own a bit shakily.

"Good," Vicki said, then turned toward Lazar, "I think that we should get these two back to the cabin. They've had enough fun and games for today." Lazar, looking worried, simply nodded. Vicki studied Is fas face. He was very pale but his eyes had cleared and he looked almost alert again. "Can you make it back to the cabin under your own steam, Captain?" she asked him. Ian said, "Yes. Please help Sara." Mobius pulled Ian to his feet. Ian swayed unsteadily for a moment and then visibly gathered himself together. Vicki turned to Mobius and asked, "Could you carry Sara back to the cabin?" Moby nodded as Sara started to sputter. Vicki stopped her before she could gain momentum. "It isn't open to discussion, Pez," Vicki said in a tone that brooked no argument. Sara made a rude sound but shut up.

Mobius picked up Sara and began to head back toward the cabin. Vicki trudged along beside him carrying the lance and her medical bag. Sara kept up a steady stream of protest until Vicki finally said, "Can it, Pez," annoyed. Surprisingly, Sara did. Lazar and Ian were left alone in the clearing. "How did you know that removing your ring would break the connection?" Lazar asked Ian. Ian shrugged carefully, any movement of his head still causing blinding pain. "I don't know," he replied, "I wasn't really thinking when I did it." Lazar seemed to accept that. "Could you bring along the orb, Protector?" Lazar asked. "You want me to pick that thing up now?" Ian asked, reluctant to do so, "Why can't you get it?" Lazar shook his head. "I am a Watcher," he replied, "I am not permitted to touch the objects of power."

Ian sighed and went to get the orb, carefully putting Excalibur in his pocket before he touched it. When he bent over to pick up the opaque sphere, the world began to tilt dangerously and he felt light-headed again. Lazar caught him in a surprisingly strong grip and asked, "Are you alright, Ian?" Ian grabbed the orb gingerly and slipped it into his other pocket. When he straightened up again, he felt better. "I'm fine," he assured Lazar. As they walked back to the cabin, Ian asked him, "What do we do now?" Lazar didn't answer for a moment, then said, "We try again tomorrow." "And if the same thing happens?" Ian asked.

This time the pause was even longer. Finally, Lazar replied, "I don't know, Protector. These waters that we are swimming in are murky for us all. We are attempting things that have never been tried before. We give up, perhaps, and prepare for the end. I don't know. It must work finally or all is lost." Ian put his hand on Lazar's shoulder and squeezed. "Then, we'll make it work," Ian said. In the gathering darkness, the ancient Watcher shook his head. "The boy is trying to reassure me. Raise my spirits," Lazar thought, feeling a wave of affection for the young Protector wash over him. "Yes," Lazar replied, "You are right, of course. We will make it work."

When they got back to the cabin, Vicki had put Sara to bed where she was loudly fussing. Ian immediately started to move toward the bedroom but Lazar stopped him. "Before you go to her, secure the orb somewhere safe and known only to you," he advised. Ian stopped, thought for a moment, and then left the cabin again. He returned a few minutes later and went directly to the bedroom. As soon as he came through the door, Sara held out her arms to him, saying, "Ian." He moved to the bed so quickly that Vicki had to jump out of the way for fear of being run down. As he sat on the edge of the bed, Sara flung herself into his open arms and slid her own arms tight around him. "Are you okay?" they asked each other at the same time. A deep laugh rumbled from Mobius who stood by the window watching the scene. "Pinky link," he said in that deep baritone. It sounded so incongruous coming from him that everyone laughed, breaking the tension.

Green eyes looked deep into golden eyes as Sara linked the little finger of her right hand with the little finger of Ian's left hand. "Make a wish," she whispered. They kept staring at each other, obviously communicating on some level that only they shared. Vicki finally broke the connection by saying, "Hello, guys? This is your doctor speaking – remember me? How are you feeling?" Her head resting on Ian's shoulder, Sara said, "I have a killer headache but, other than that, I think I'm okay." "No double vision, ringing in the ears, nausea, light-headedness?" Vicki asked. "Nah," Sara replied, "None of that, just the headache." "How about you, Captain?" Vicki asked Ian. Ian turned his head toward Vicki, forcing Sara to lift her head off his shoulder. "Same," he replied, "I've got the headache too, but none of the other symptoms."

"Okay," Vicki said, "I'm going to give you something for the headache and, then, I think it might be a good plan if you take a nap until it's time for dinner. Sound good?" "I can get behind that," Sara replied. "Good," Vicki said, before turning to Moby to ask, "Mobius, could you please get them a glass of water?" Moby nodded. "Certainly, Po," he replied, heading out the door and toward the kitchen. Vicki rummaged around in her bag again and eventually pulled out a bottle. She uncapped it and tipped it to allow two large white capsules to roll into her palm. Just as she was doling out one capsule each to Sara and Ian, Moby returned with the glass of water. "What about Lazar?" Ianed. ed. "I will make your apologies to the Master, my brother," Moby said, giving the water to Vicki and then turning to return to the living room. "Thanks, Moby," Ian called after him.

Vicki handed the water to Sara and said, "Okay, Scourge of the Universe, down the hatch." Sara managed a weak smile as she swallowed the capsule Vicki had given her. Sara reached over to push a lock of Ian's hair back behind his ear and handed him the glass of water. Ian held the water, staring suspiciously at the large capsule resting in the palm of his hand. "Take the pill, baby," Sara said. He lifted his eyes to hers. Sara reached out her hand to stroke his hair. "Take the pill, Ian," she repeated. He took the pill and then put the empty glass in Vicki's outstretched hand. "Those will work pretty quickly and hit you like a ton of bricks," Vicki said, "But they won't leave you with a hangover. Have a good nap. We'll wake you at dinner time if you're not already up." Vicki went to the window and pulled the curtains closed and then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as they were alone in the bedroom, Ian carefully pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it on the chair. He winced at the pain the movement sent crashing through his head. Without bending over, he kicked off his shoes and socks. Now clad only in his sweatpants, he turned back to the bed to see Sara sitting cross-legged, her head held in her hands. "Still hurt?" he asked. "Yeah," she said softly, "It's like a herd of elephants in spike heels are doing a tango in there." He smiled at the image. "Want me to undress you?" he asked. Sara lifted her head to study him standing there half dressed beside the bed. "Okay," she replied. He leaned over, intending to pull her to her feet beside the bed, and immediately began to sway as a wave of dizziness hit him. Sara reached out a hand to steady him, holding on to him tightly until his eyes cleared and he stopped swaying. "I thought you told Vicki that you weren't dizzy," she said. "I wasn't," he replied, blinking.

"Uh huh," Sara said, trying to pull back the covers on the bed with one hand and still hold on to Ian with the other. "Are you going to keel over if I let you go?" she asked, "Tell me the truth, Ian." "No," he replied. She tentatively removed the hand that was against his waist, providing support. When he didn't slide to the floor, she breathed a sigh of relief. Careful of moving her own aching head too much, she gently pushed his sweatpants and briefs down over his slender hips until they dropped around his ankles. She held his elbow and said, "Step out of them." He did and she just kicked them under the bed thinking, "I'll pick those up for the laundry tomorrow."

"Okay, ace, get in the bed," she ordered him. "But…," he started. "Now, Ian," she said, feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges as the painkiller began to kick in. Ian knew that tone of voice. He got into the bed and rolled on to his side, facing her. Sara pulled off her clothes, trying to keep extra movement to a minimum. She tossed her discarded clothing on the chair and got into bed beside Ian. Sara turned on to her side and snuggled back against him, spooning. She felt his arm drape over her waist heavily. His breath ruffled the hair on the back of her neck. Sara was briefly very conscious of the warm, naked length of Ian, tucked snugly against her back. And, then, she was out like a light. Ian was making a concerted effort to mold himself tightly against the smooth curves of Sara's back. He arched his body in a decidedly feline fashion and, between one moment and the next, fell sound asleep.

When Mobius had come out of the bedroom, he'd found Lazar was sitting in his favorite chair. Moby sat on the sofa facing him and said, "Po has ordered them both to bed with medication for their aching heads, Master. Do you wish to instruct me in the wielding of the lance or do you wish to continue training on the morrow?" Lazar smiled. "There is nothing that I can teach you about wielding the lance, Hector. You learned all that there is to know in the first few moments that you held it. If you are able to control the power of the lance, you are able to wield it. Whether you wield it for good or evil depends on your character and intentions, as is the case with all objects of power." Mobius looked up at the mantelpiece, where the Lance of Longinus rested. "You will wield it for good," Lazar said, as if reassuring the big warrior. Moby licked his lips and nodded.

They both turned their heads as the bedroom door shut again and Vicki Po joined them in the living room. She came over and sat on the other side of the sofa, dropping her medical bag to the floor at her feet. "Well," she said, "We're off to a roaring start. I bet the evil darkness is quaking in its boots – assuming that evil darkness can wear boots," she said, sighing heavily. Lazar held up a hand. "Patience, Dr. Po," he said, "Appearances can be deceiving." "Oh, yeah?" Vicki said skeptically, "I admit it. That lightning bolt that our own weapon delivered to knock the good guys on their ass sure had me fooled. I didn't realize that it was all a clever ruse." "Tomorrow will be better," Lazar said soothingly. "Tomorrow is one day closer to the Convergence," Vicki reminded him. "Indeed," Lazar said, nodding, "And now I must go. I was only waiting to say goodbye to you, Dr. Po." Vicki smiled at the older man ruefully. "C'mon," she said, "You know you stayed so that you could fake me out with that disappearing act of yours." Lazar smiled back at her and disappeared. Even though she was expecting it, Vicki jumped.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Vicki turned to Moby and said, "You got your wish, Mobius. No shooting lesson for me today." Moby just shrugged, not wanting to reintroduce tension between them. But she wasn't ready to let it go that easily. She wanted to try to make him understand her reasoning. Vicki pushed a hand roughly through her hair, leaving it sticking out in spiky tufts. Mobius smiled, finding the gesture endearing. "You know it's not just about helping out in the battle," she said, "I'm going to be here in the thick of things whether anyone likes it or not. It would be nice if I had some way to protect myself. I don't want to pull anyone's attention away from where it might be needed more because they have to defend me. Can you understand that?" Moby thought about that and found that it did, indeed, put a new light on Vicki wanting to learn how to shoot. In fact, it was acly sly starting to make good sense to him. He could find no flaw in her reasoning.

Moby sighed, wondering briefly whether he would regret what he was about to do later. "I will teach you how to shoot, Po," he said. Vicki's eyes went round as saucers. She shook her head like a soaked terrier. "I must still have water in my ears from my shower this morning," she said, "Because I know that I couldn't have heard you right, Mobius. It sounded like you just offered to teach me how to shoot." Moby frowned. "An offer that I am already beginning to rue," Moby rumbled, "Perhaps it is best if you pay me no heed." Vicki backpedaled quickly. "Nah, that's okay," she quickly said, "I'd love to have you give me shooting lessons. Can we start right now?"

Mobius sighed again, more deeply this time. "As you wish, Po," he replied, "There is an hour or so of daylight left. We can go to the far side of the clearing so that the noise does not disturb Ian and his lady." "Cool," she replied, excited, "Do you have a gun that I can use?" Moby thought for a moment and then went over to the bags and boxes of supplies that were piled on the far side of the living room. He dug around in one of Ian's leather weapons' bags and finally came up with a small but deadly looking automatic weapon. As he passed Vicki on the way to the kitchen, he handed it over to her. She was startled by its weight and almost dropped it. "Just hold it by the grip, Po," he told her, "Do not fiddle with any parts. It would not be wise to accidentally arm the weapon and kill one of us before you learn how to fire it." Her eyes went wide again and she held the gun carefully by the grip with both hands, avoiding any part of it that moved. Moby averted his face, grinning.

In the kitchen, Moby dug out a can of red spray paint that'd s'd seen in one of the drawers. He slipped on his jacket and turned to Vicki holding open the arms of her raincoat for her. She very carefully laid the gun down on a small table before turning to slip her arms back into the coat he held. She picked up the gun using equal care and returned it to her two-handed embrace. With a suspiciously blank expression on his face, Moby held open the cabin door for her. Vicki threw him a quick, curious glance before she went past him and out the door. When they reached the far side of the clearing, Mobius picked out an especially broad tree and, using the spray paint, created a series of nested circles at eye level.

For the next hour, Moby worked with Vicki to help her become familiar with holding, aiming, and firing the gun. When she first shot at the target, the recoil completely befuddled her, even though Moby had warned her about it. She kept being thrown back into the warm, muscular wall positioned directly behind her. After a while, she learned to compensate for that. The next problem was her aim, which apparently sent bullets everywhere but at the target. Both of them took great enjoyment in his molding his body against her back, his long arms guiding her short arms to aim the gun at the target. Vicki enjoyed it so much, in fact, that she could probably have put a bullet inside a circle long before she actually allowed herself to do it.

When Vicki finally managed to hit the target on her own, she gave an excited squeal and turned to stretch her arms up around Moby's neck. Vicki pushed herself up on her toes to give him a firm "thank-you" kiss on the lips. She had startled him so much that, before he could even begin to return the kiss, she was pulling back. She didn't get far before she felt his arms come around her. Moby tightened his hold and lifted her easily off the ground, raising her until they were face to face. Vicki's arms moved back around his neck, the gun still dangling from her hand. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, neither one of them saying a word. Then, Moby leaned forward to press his lips against hers.

Vicki decided that she wasn't going to think too much about what was happening. That was how she'd always ruined past relationships. This time she was just going to let herself feel. Sara's words briefly echoed though her brain: "The world could end in five days…jump the guy first chance you get." Vicki jumped. When Moby's lips touched hers, she responded freely. As his silky tongue licked across her lower lip, Vicki's head started to swim and she parted her lips to catch her breath. He took that as an invitation and, suddenly, that delightfully sinuous traveler was inside her mouth finding new vistas to explore. Like a magnet, her tongue was drawn to his. The kiss became more passionate as their tongues tangled and danced with each other. The gun slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the ground, where it discharged. Fortunately, the bullet went wide, but it scared the hell out of Vicki and startled Mobius into abruptly letting her go.

Vicki flushed scarlet. She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes and whispered, "Sorry. That was a really stupid thing to do." Moby looked flustered. "You must clarify that for me, Po," he said, "Do you refer to dropping the weapon or do you refer to kissing me?" "Oh, gosh no," she replied, appalled, "I meant dropping the gun. Kissing you was delightful." He gave her a beautiful smile, greatly relieved. "Then perhaps we might resume at the point of interruption?" he requested gently, "Leaving the weapon on the ground this time?" Vicki smiled shyly at the invitation. "I think that could be arranged," she said, stretching her arms up again toward the man that towered above her.

"You are such a tiny thing," Moby whispered, pulling her closer and lifting her again, "So delicate, like a flower." Vicki melted. "Only because you're such a colossus," she thought. Vicki had always regarded herself as an ungainly horse of a woman, graceless and awkward. Mobius had performed the considerable miracle of making her feel dainty. Vicki leaned forward to kiss his soft lips. She heard him gasp as her teeth nipped his lower lip, just before she slipped her tongue inside his warm mouth. Then, all coherent though fled as he began to respond to her with a vengeance.

Vicki felt a soft and sensual warmth steal over her, weakening her defenses and filling her head with erotic images so alien to her normally practical mind that they astounded her. She pulled back with a sharp gasp, needing to breathe, and dropped her head to his shoulder. Against the side of her neck, she felt his hot, ragged breath as he struggled to regain his composure. Moby couldn't seem to form a rational thought, his senses overpowered by the scent of her – a combination of strawberries, aroused female, and something suspiciously antiseptic like mercurochrome. It was intoxicating.

Vicki shivered. Moby gentled lowered her back to the ground. "I am a great ass," he said hoarsely. "What?" she asked dazedly, looking up at him. "You must be freezing, Po," he replied, "Daylight is failing and the air has taken on its evening chill. I should get you back to the cabin and the warmth of the fire." Vicki cleared her throat. "The last thing I am at the moment is cold," she said, voice husky too. His eyes widened and then darkened as he absorbed that piece of information. "Still," he said, "It will be full dark by the time we return to the cabin. I endanger you by keeping you out here in the twilight." "You're probably right," she agreed, "Not a good time to be wooing in the woods with demons and who knows what other nasties about." He picked the gun up off of the ground and held out his other hand toward the path to the cabin.

As they started back, he took her hand. "Perhaps, if they are not yet awake, we can allow them to sleep while we construct dinner?" he suggested. Vicki grinned. "I'm not much of a cook," she said. "I excel at a few meals," Moby said, "I thought that I might make Spaghetti Bolognese." "I can do meatballs," Vicki offered, excited. Unwilling to dampen her excitement, Mobius decided not to tell her that Spaghetti Bolognese was pasta with meat sauce and that meatballs were rather redundant. They were all carnivores, after all. "We will supplement this with salad and garlic bread. It will make a fine meal." Vicki squeezed his hand. "A nice merlot to drink?" she asked. Moby squeezed back. "Yes," he replied, "I believe that there is one large bottle of merlot left in the winerack." "And who knows what might follow a good dinner of spaghetti and merlot?" Vicki asked slyly. She felt a tiny shudder run through the large hand holding hers. Vicki smiled.