Author: Triane

Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else.

Summary: We meet our heroine, and a life that was just becoming solid again takes a drastic turn in the opposite direction.

First years get younger all the time, Iona thought as she gathered her papers off her office desk. Younger and dumber. She shot a quick look at her calendar to reassure herself that her senior classes would start the next day and she could concentrate on her specialties rather than survey courses.

It wasn't that she disliked the new university kids – all of her senior students had taken her survey courses in their first or second year. And it wasn't that she disliked or was tired of the material – Iona of all people understood the need for a good foundation to study further in the Ancient World, or the 'cradle of European civilization' as it was billed in the university course calendar. She still found new interesting details every time she taught it, too. The survey course she had taken in her own first year was the one that set her on the path to becoming the foremost antiquities professor at one of the pre-eminent universities in the UK.

But if she was going to talk about early Britain and Europe and the people in it, her tongue ached to speak in old English and old Saxon and all the other languages she had started learning in her undergrad years and perfected since. And her senior students were better qualified to talk about it with her, and didn't look at her as if she had grown another head when she started speaking Latin.

Also, her senior classes didn't give her seventy five papers on what made Alexander the Great…well, great.

Iona sighed as she took one last look around her office, then flicked off the light and locked the door. Too bad not all Alexanders were great.

She laughed wryly under her breath as she headed down the hall, carrying on the conversation with herself. Some Alexanders think they're great when they're really very not. Some Alexanders think they're God's gift to all women, even if they've got one at home. She felt her purse bump against her hip and remembered her new license, the one she had picked up from the mail that morning – the one with her maiden name back in its rightful place, rather than the watered-down, generic 'Smyth' of her marriage. Not for the first time did she feel a surge of thankfulness that she had kept her maiden name throughout her academic career, so her students knew her and had always known her as Dr. Demetronopolos. And not for the first time was she thankful she lived in a secure building, where the doormen knew what Alex was capable of, and that there was a very large restraining order waiting for him when he got out of jail.

Pausing at the outer doors of the university, Iona buttoned her bomber-length dress jacket and made sure her purse strap was secure on her shoulder. It was only September, but the wind that morning had had a bit of a bite to it. She was also thankful that she lived close enough to the school that she could walk, although she usually began to rue that fact mid-winter.

Humming to herself, Iona started down the street, her mind lazily running over the contents of her pantry as she tried to decide what to make for dinner that night.What I really want, she thought to herself, is to spend the night in the fencing studio. She smiled slightly as she thought about practicing with her swords. Then she grimaced, as she thought about how little she had been in the studio in the past few months since she was discharged from the hospital. Her arm still gave her twinges every once in a while, and she wanted to be careful about how she went about building up its strength. That was one of the many things Alex had been disdainful of – her ability and love of fighting. He thought women were delicate creatures, who should be at home and not 'prancing about with swords' as he called it. The fact that she could very easily kill him with one of those swords never seemed to enter his mind.

Iona winced as she remembered. No swords, no knives, nothing. I had nothing to defend myself with. Maybe that's why it happened then, when I was defenceless. When he knew he could have the upper hand, just because he was stronger. She sighed as she waited to cross the street, wishing – and not for the first time – that she had someone to defend her.

Not that I need defending. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. It's just that sometimes, when the odds seem stacked against me, it would be nice to have some help. Some knight in shining armour to swoop in and rescue me. Iona laughed under her breath.

Yeah, Iona, that's what you need. Some knight, some defender of women and children, with a code of honour and loyalty and chivalry. To treat you like a lady. Like your papa always meant for you to be treated. She sighed again, this time with regret. Her papa had treated her like a lady, and wanted her to have a husband who would, as well. But Alex fooled him, just like he fooled everyone else in the family. He hid the womanizing, abusive side of himself until the wedding was over and they felt helpless to do anything about it.

I just wish… Iona checked her descent into loneliness and self-pity, reminding herself what she had been through and what she had escaped.

Well, then, I hope. I hope that someday I'll find some gentle man who treats me the way my papa would want.

Horns blared, and Iona's head snapped around. A truck she hadn't seen was bearing down at her, the driver frantically trying to stop. For a moment all Iona could do was stare, her mind screaming at her, telling her to move, but her body not obeying.

Then suddenly...quiet.