Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me. They belong to someone else. So does the included poem.
She Came and Went
Sara walked blindly. She didn't know where she was or where she was going. Night had fallen hours ago, and winter's chilly air had settled into every shadow of the city. She stopped on a street corner and pulled her jacket tighter. How could Jake betray her? How could he be working with that jerk Dante? The questions swirled in her mind like a tornado. She looked around, not really seeing the buildings, the sparse traffic, or the shadow that clung to her every move.
Sara was tired. Her head and body hurt from running, but she couldn't go home. They would be waiting for her. Standard procedure, she thought bitterly. Where could she turn? Gabriel and Danny were nowhere to be found and she'd be damned if she would ever turn to Irons for help again.
In answer to her troubling thoughts, a familiar voice called to her. "You've been running for hours, Sara. Come with me. I will protect you."
She spun around in surprise to see Ian lurking in the darkness of the building behind her. How did he always know where to find her? She pushed the thought from her mind. "Can I trust you?" she asked hesitantly. After months of his shadowing movements she still didn't know what to think of him.
"Is there anyone else?" he asked, then simply added, "Yes."
Sara tried to think. She felt as if a fog had settled into her brain. Was there anyone else? She didn't know, but found herself following him anyway. They cut through the streets at a dizzying pace until Sara felt her legs would give out.
Finally he stopped in front of a door nearly hidden at the back of an alley behind stacks of boards. Ian ushered Sara inside and locked the door behind them. "Where are we?" she asked.
"This is my home," he replied.
Sara nodded and looked about. It was a small apartment, but very neat. A brown leather sofa was against one wall with a wingback chair and table beside it. Large bookcases lined the second wall, each one filled with leather-bound books. To the left, there was a small kitchen and a door leading to what she presumed was the bedroom and bath. It was almost cozy. Yet something was missing. No pictures, she thought. And it was true. There wasn't a single picture to be found. Not even art or family. What kind of life must he lead under Irons?
A whistle pulled her attention to the kitchen, where she found Ian pouring her a cup of tea. She accepted it gratefully. "May I take your coat, Sara?" he asked. She nodded and allowed him to help slip it off her shoulders.
"I like your home, Ian, but it isn't what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I thought it would be... sparse."
"I'm pleased you like it, Sara." His voice held a faint smile in it. "You should try to rest," he added.
Instead, she wandered to the bookcases, sipping her tea. There were hundreds of books, each one hand-bound in leather. She traced her fingers along the bindings and was surprised to see that many of them were of poetry and classic literature. A warrior who likes poetry. Maybe there is more to Ian Nottingham than I thought. She turned to see him just behind her.
"It's part of my training," he whispered.
Sara turned back to the books. Wittier, Longfellow, Sandberg, Dumas, even Poe. They were all there. She smiled and it took the last of her energy. It would be nice to hear one of these poems, she thought.
As if hearing her thoughts, he asked, "Would you like me to read you one?" She nodded. He scanned the shelves, chose a book and led her to the couch. Sara reached to remove her shoes, but he was already kneeling at her feet. Sara closed her eyes, thankful for the comfort and security he offered.
He slipped off each shoe and sock, as if it were the most sacred of duties. He then put a hand on her shoulder, gently making her lay down. He placed a blanket over her and sat in the armchair next to her. Sara was almost asleep. He smiled, happy that she had come, and that she had thought of his home before tonight. He returned to the book and, in his husky voice, he began to read the words to his favorite poem. The one about Sara.
"She Came and Went" by James Russell Lowell
As a twig trembles, which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;
I only know she came and went.
As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;
I only know she came and went.
As, at one bound, our swift spring heaps
The orchards full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;
I only know she came and went.
An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
I only know she came and went.
Oh, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think she came and went.
When he had finished, Ian closed the book and placed it on the table. He looked back to Sara. The tension had eased out of her body and a slight smile was on her lips. He switched off the lights and turned towards his own bed. Just as he passed into the doorway, he heard a faint, "Thank you, Ian" from Sara. He could barely make out her image in the darkness, but he could feel her presence and it warmed his heart. "Good night, Lady Sara."
Sara's eyes opened shortly after 9:30 the next morning. She was still wrapped in the soft green blanket and was quite comfortable. Slowly, the events of the previous day crept into her mind. The murder, the accusations and betrayal and how she came to find herself here on this couch all returned. What happened, Jake? No answer came, so she pushed the thoughts far from her mind and stood up.
The door to Ian's bedroom was open and the bed was empty. Sara made a quick search of the small apartment and realized he had already left. She stopped in front of the bookshelves and touched the books, thinking of his poem. His voice floated back to her memory, so gentle and... what? Passionate? She had never figured Ian as the poetry type. A lot about him was surprising lately.
She made her way to the kitchen for some tea and had just finished her first cup when Ian returned. In his hand was a brown leather satchel, which he placed on the chair by the couch. She looked at him questioningly.
"I brought some of your things from your apartment," he said, looking embarrassed. He averted his eyes. "I thought you might like a change of clothes."
"Thank you," she said, more than a little surprised.
"The police are still at your home. Your partner, Jake McCarty is with them." Sara almost asked how he was able to get in, then stopped herself when she realized it was a dumb question. Ian could disappear from sight like The Shadow himself, usually without the laughter though. Sara put her hand to her throbbing head and poured herself another cup of tea.
"It's warming up outside," Ian commented as he disappeared into his bedroom, as if such conversation was the most natural thing between them.
Sara went to the satchel on the chair. She glanced up as he came back into the room. He was pulling a thin black sweater down over his well-defined stomach muscles. Sara's breath caught and she quickly turned away. The heat rose in her cheeks. What was in that tea? When she looked back, he was putting on his shoes and trying to hide a smile. She turned back to the bag and opened it. Inside were her toiletries, including bubble bath, and two fresh sets of clothes. At the bottom of the bag, Sara found her black lace bra and underwear. She pulled them out and looked in his direction. He seemed to be completely absorbed in tieing his shoes. Unbidden, the thought of Ian going through her lingerie drawer entered her mind. She could see him choosing the pieces to put in the bag. She should have been angry, furious even, but all the same there was a flutter in her stomach.
Ian put on his coat and smiled at her. "You can stay here as long as you like, Sara. You will be safe and no one will find you." She was about to tell him she was leaving when he cut her off. "I must go to see Irons for awhile."
The thought of Irons stopped her. "Are you going to tell him…?"
"No. He will not find out where you are," he said.
Sara was relieved. A few hours might be all that she needed to figure out a way to regain control of the situation to take down Dante once and for all. Ian stepped forward and took her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it softly, then departed.
Sara stared after him. She sighed. Confusion tolerance. Right. Gotta work on that! Gathering her clothes, she headed for the bathroom. A warm bubblebath was just what she needed. She still couldn't believe his thoughtfulness. Everything she needed had been in that bag and he had risked going to her apartment to get it. Sara was slipping into the warm, vanilla scented tub as the picture of him sitting on top of the filing cabinet in her office entered her mind. "I would do anything to please you," he had said.
"Man, partner. I leave you alone for one day and already you're spending the night at the guy's apartment!"
Sara nearly lept out of the tub when she heard her partner's voice. Then, realizing her position quickly slid back under the bubbles. "Danny!"
"Relax, Pez, there's nothing there I haven't seen before."
"Very funny," she quipped. "Where have you been?"
"Oh, you know, always something to do in paradise."
The sight of him warmed her heart. God how she missed him. "I needed you yesterday."
"Looks to me like you did okay. You're still alive."
Sara had no reply. She played with the bubbles for a minute. Jake's betrayal had come out of the blue. She just didn't know who she could trust anymore. "Any words of wisdom for my current situation, O Wise One?"
"A warrior never fights the battle alone, Pez. Joan, Cathain, Elizabeth, they all had a right hand man and so do you. You just have to learn to trust him."
"You're saying I should trust Jake? After all he did?"
Danny rolled his eyes. "No Sara, I'm saying you should trust Nottingham! He's there to protect you, just like I am."
"I can handle Nottingham. I was talking about Dante." Danny clearly wasn't buying the line. "Okay, I'll think about it," she added.
"Dante's time is coming soon. Use the Witchblade and those great detective skills I know you have. The answers are there, Sara, and so is the help."
Ian returned from his meeting with Irons an hour later. It hadn't gone well. His face still bore the red handprint left by his Master at hearing that Ian didn't know what had become of Sara. Irons hadn't been convinced he was telling the truth, but let it slide for the time being.
He was surprised to hear Sara speaking to someone as he removed his coat. He moved cautiously to the bathroom door, listening. A moment later, he realized that her visitor was her dead partner. Lucky man, he thought as he moved away from the bathroom door and went to fix her something to eat.
She came into the kitchen a few minutes later, looking clean and refreshed. She stopped inches from him and gratefully accepted the bowl of rice and vegetables he offered. He breathed in deep. She smelled so good. Ian cast his eyes down, thinking of his morning with Irons. He could look but not touch. How many times had Irons made that point painfully clear?
When she had finished, she gathered her coat and shoes, preparing to leave. She must have suspected something about the meeting though because she came back into the kitchen and stood in front of him. She raised her hand to brush a strand of hair from his face and he flinched. Her hand stopped in mid air for a moment, then continued in its task. She placed her other hand on his shoulder and his eyes slid over to where it lay, then glanced up to her. Her eyes searched his and found the answer they sought. She slowly leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Warmth vibrated through his body from the simple contact. How he longed to take her in his arms!
"I'm going back to the crime scene. I need to check some things out," she said. Then added, "But if it's okay, I… I'd like to come back later."
"I'd like that, Sara," he whispered. She smiled and left. He thought again of the poem. Oh, when the room grows slowly dim, and life's last oil is nearly spent, one gush of light these eyes will brim, only to think she came and went. Ian fully understood the meaning of the last verse. Even at the doorstep of death, Sara would be his last thought. He smiled, the warmth of her kiss still linguering on his cheek. She came and went. But this time, she would be back.