STORY STARTS

Chapter 4

Ian frowned as he surveyed the grounds of the estate from the top of a nearby bluff. He had not dared approaching any closer without the opportunity to study as much as he could about the layout of the grounds and already he could see that much of the grounds did not conform to the estate deeds and building plans filed at the County Clerks office.

He passed a trained eye over the grounds, noting several varying level of security instalments from the mundane camera's and laser tripwires to more upscale heat sensors and highly modified motion sensors. He had even noted traditional alarms and pre-electrical traps including several nonlethal Tiger Falls, snares, fall boxes, and dozens of other tricks, traps, and alarms used by skilled hunters from all parts of the globe. The majority of the systems were all alarms of some kind, and he didn't note any offensive measures, though he had noted the places he would have placed them and was certain that the apparently harmless statues, small trees, and other ornaments were in place to disguise the serious defensive measures.

He replaced his binocculars into the compact case he wore on his belt and turned on the overhead light of his vehicle, again studied the most detailed satellite images he had been able to find on the estate and it's surrounding neighbors.

He could feel the presence of his beloved Wielder from within the grounds, his connection to her through the 'Blade and their shared genetic heritage allowing to pinpoint her location to within meters when he was within a mile of her. Unfortunately, he was just outside his range, and could only dimly feel that she was somewhere within the large mansion of the estate and not the grounds or one of several smaller dwellings located around the large compound. He had to admit though, that as good as he was, there was little chance of his finding her within the grounds without being notice. The security arrangments that he noted were all among the best and most sophistacated examples he had ever seen, including the more primitive traps. And even though he had once snuck into the Gold Depository at both Fort Knox and the New York Exchange without so much as a hint that he had ever been except for the small card left behind each to show the weakness of their security, he knew that the security here was far beyond anything he had dealt with before. He strongly suspected that the systems he had seen were only there for the purpose of being seen and that the true protection of the grounds came from a far different and more reliable source.

As he often did of late, he cursed the fates that had caused him to find himself struggling between duty to his master, and duty to the Wielder. His duty to the Wielder had been his since time immaterial and had he his wish, he would never part from the side of the strong and beautiful Detective even without their shared ties to the ancient sentient weapon. But alas, at some point in his youth, Irons had found him and taken him into his circle, training him to be the perfect companion. Loyal, intelligent, strong of mind and body, and ruthless. Since his first days of memory, he had known nothing but what Irons had seen fit to have him know. Given an education that would be the envy of all, but forced to hide his intellect behind the emotionless facade Irons had crafted into him. Forced to use the physical gifts granted through the scientific endeavours of countless years of research for nothing more than to be his master's scalpel, cutting the strings of those of whom his master wished disposed. He'd spend his entire life seeking to gain his master's approval, performing acts that he knew to be degrading to himself and his honour all to get a simple acknowledgement of his master's satisfaction.

Lately though, the desire to serve his master had begun to wave, and a grain of disatisfaction with his life had srpung to life and started to grow within him. He knew that Sara was the source, yet he could not fault her with the disruption to the, if not content or pleasureable nature or his life, at least it had been stable and predictable. Since meeting Sara in the museum and her bonding to the Witchblade, his life had been anything but stable. And though he had suffered greatly as a result of his new found rebellious nature, he could do nothing but thank her for allowing him a glimpse of the life he should have lead as her companion and guardian.

Those few times when circumstance had conspired to allow him to work at her side, he found himself filled with joy and longing. She was intelligent, beautiful, and strong, everything a man should wish for in a woman and yet his master often sought to take that which he found most appealing about her: her steadfast independence and inner strength that had guided her life, leading her to chose a life that ostrocized from the norms of society as much as the life Irons had chosen from him.

Sara was not content with simply looking pretty and simpering for a man, no matter how much his master sought to manipulate her to such a life. She thrived on challenges and was only trully alive when performing what he knew to be more than simply her job, but was instead a passion and a calling to her. She daily went in to a workplace where she knew she was not welcome, and had to work three times as hard as her coworkers, not only because of her gender but also because of the personal grudge held against her by her superiors and their corrupt beauracrocy. It was hard enough for a woman to gain acceptence in the field of law enforcement, but when her supervising officers and half of the members of her precint would gladly but a bullet in her head made her doing her job much more complicated.

He admired her inner strength as much her outer beauty. Most men were scared off by her strongly independant personality, but he was drawn to it. It was such a different attitude than anything he had been exposed to during his master's tutelage. It caused him to question his prior behaviour and his master's orders. He started to question if he should remain loyal to his master or abandon him to serve by his lady's side. Such thoughts on his part before his first meeting with Lady Sara would never cross his mind. He had been totally and irrevocably loyal to the man who had raised him. Perhaps he'd not been the gentlest or most effusive of parents, but he was the only parent that Ian knew, and there was a bond of emotion between them, even if his master rarely acknowledged such a bond.

Shaking his head to clear it of the odd thoughts caused by the inner conflict he was under, he focused on his current task. Taking a calming breath, he attempted to seek within himself for his inner sense, what eastern martial arts called ki or chi. The well spring of a person's power. He sought through his center to reach that area of his ki that tied him to both the Witchblade and the Wielder. He sent a pulse along the trickle of the connection, hoping that his beloved Sara was sensitive enought to feel his presence. If he could not get into the grounds, perhaps he could bring Sara out to meet him.

Of course, that would only work if she trusted him more than she was willing to admit even to herself. She often denied the connection they shared, claiming that it didn't exist despite her own subconcious use of the bond to track his movements and whereabouts when she thought she had a need to find him. Oh well. He'd wait here on this bluff waiting to see if she'd come to find him. If not, at least he was better able to track her emotions now that he was conciously connecting to their bond.

BREAK

Sara paused for a moment as a strangely familiar feeling ran along her spine. She frowned and threw another punch at the heavy bag in the weight room. She and Marie had retreated here in order to escape the heavy tension of the kitchen. Neither was really in a mood to consider the heavy duty thoughts they'd shared and needed to release some of the tension. So they had retired to the fully equiped gymnasium. Sara had spotted the heavy bags and decided to partake in her second favorite form of tension relief while Marie, or Rogue as she'd told her to call when around the others, had changed into her gym outform and started doing laps around the spatious room.

She tried to continue with her workout, but her concentration was gone. Her mind started to wander to the dark, brooding stalker who so often was a source of both irritation and amusement. She struggled daily against the growing attraction she felt towards him, often lashing out at the slightest opportunity to belittle his efforts to grow closer. She still wasn't sure if she could trust him.

Oh, she knew how he felt about her, or at least, what he claimed to feel for her. But she wasn't naive enough to believe that whatever he felt towards her would automatically cause him to side with her in the long run. He was still too commited to Irons and whatever sick, twisted hold that bastard had on him. If just once, he would give her solid proof that he wished to change, that he wanted to leave Irons, she would gladly do her best to help him escape from the evil manipulative ghoul. And with his help, she could take down the corrupt businessman and the putrid rotten core that had infiltrated the NYPD. And they might even be able to address the unresolved tension that exploded into existance whenever they were within a mile of each other.

But she could not consider moving into a relationship with him while he was still under Irons' control. She wasn't stupid enough to think that Ian would put an end to his less than legal job duties so long as he still owed allegiance to Irons. There was no chance that he would refuse an order from Irons no matter how much he might wish to as long as he allowed himself to be cowed into submission by the older man. And she would never be certain of his actions until he made a public and possible physical rejection of the billionaire. Until then, she'd keep a firm lid on the emotions his presence evoked within her, partially unsure if what she was feeling was even real or a product of the Witchblade.

Ian's presence. That's what she was feeling! she thought to her self. Ian was nearby. Concentrating on the sudden increase in the sensation, she turned slowly in the room, trying to at least pinpoint the direction of the powerful presence of her erstwhile protector/stalker. Settling on a direction, she called Rogue over and asked her to run and fetch Logan.

While the teen hastened to comply, she made her way out of the gym and in the general direction of the presence. She was pretty certain that there was an exit in that direction. She wasn't worried about Ian bringing danger to her, not really. But it was rare that his presence didn't preclude the arrival of some trouble or another. So she'd rather be prepared, and she was certain that Logan would be able to provide her with some backup should something happen. And even if nothing did, it might not be a bad idea to get Logan closer to Ian and see what Ian's reactions to the admitedly handsome, and dangerous man, would be. He'd gotten quite possessive of her time lately, and it would be a good idea to remind him that she didn't belong to him.

BREAK

Ian grinned as he noticed the flare of irritation along the bond. Sara had noticed his presence. He could almost hear her thoughts, but that was a skill he held only when they within a few feet of each other and focused on each other. Unfortunately, that wasn't something that happened often enough for his taste. He knew her well enough though, to guess what she was thinking.

At the moment, she was likely trying to guess what danger he was come to warn her of, or what mischief his presence heralded. She was also likely trying to ponder wether he was here on business for Irons and what that would mean for the special nature of the students of Xavier's Institute or if he was simply here on his nightly 'stalking' of her. Ian had no doubt that his master knew of the existence and nature of the inhabitants of the manse but had no idea if his master had any current, future or even past plans regarding any within the grounds. Not for certain, anyway.

He was beginning to strongly suspect that his master was involved in some way with the wild haired man who had brought Sara to this place. There was something off about the man, his scent and the impression gained by other senses screamed to Ian that there was something even more wildly different about the man than even the most exotic natural mutation of the continued evolution of the human race. He would watch closely and try to subtly goad his master into revealing the nature of his connection to the mutant.

He had learned many tricks over his lifetime that would loosen his master's tongue, and he would use them all if need be for he felt that his master was hiding something from him. True this was not an uncommon occurance, yet he felt that this time it was something that dealt with his own past. And this was not something he could ignore. He'd spent most of his life searching for clues to his past, to the origins of his gifts. He had found much evidence that indicated that the so called gene therapy and drug treatments were nothing but mock ups and placebos. His abilities were natural.

Doing testing on his own, he'd noted an unusual factor in his blood that he had been unable to identify, yet which when he'd had a sample tested at a private lab, had had the scientist he'd furtively hired raving about the possible effects it would have on the bearer. Increased senses, enhanced healing and metabolism, and even the possibility of slowing his aging were only some of the effects this X-factor would have on him. All these effects were known to him, though he had been told they were a result of the millions spent by Irons on genetic research.

Once the news broke about the existence of mutants, he had secretely tracked down one and gained a sample of her blood. He'd found the same X-factor in her genetic makeup as his own, though her's affected her differently. Instead of enhanced senses or healing, she had the ability to absorb oxygen and moisture through her skin, effectively allowing her to breath in conditions that would kill most living mammalian creatures. He had later seen her competing in the Olympics in the distance swimming competions, an event that suited her gifts.

So how, he wondered, had he gained this X-factor? He had approved testing on the blood samples and though they had bee nable to isolate the genetic sequence for introduction into a test host, the gene had resulted in only a temporary enhancement. Further proof came as when the gene wore off, the recipient of the gene had experience a catastrophic cardiovascular failure resulting in death within hours of the failure. If the genes had been introduced to him in the manner that Iron's had claimed, he'd be dead long ago. No, the X-factor was a natural part of his genetic makeup, and he wanted to know where it was from. Where he was from.

A surge of sensation along the bond to Sara alerted him to her approach and he stealed himself to face her. Deciding to push as much as he could, he refused to face her as he usually did and stood staring out over the grounds. Sounds behind her indicating that she was not alone, and he took a second to recognize the heartbeat of her friend, as well as two others that he couldn't place.

"Hello, Sara, it's good to see you got my invitation. I was quite put out when you left without informing me of your location. It is my duty to protect you from your enemies, and I can not do that if you are so far away from me." he stated in a tone of voice he knew irritated her.

"Damn it Ian, can't you let me have even a weekend without you stalking me?" she stated as she came within normal hearing range. He could hear her heartrate increase as she approached him and the surge of irritation and arousal that ran through her whenever they were near each other.

He grinned, knowing she couldn't see it, but could feel his amusement through the bond. "Have I been stalking you, Sara? Here I thought I was protecting you from the shadows, but I suppose, that my actions could be taken as stalking you."

"You say protecting, but I never see you around when the going gets tuff, only right before the shit hits the fan and I have to use the blade to save my own ass. You follow me around, spy on me, break into my place on a regular basis, report all my movements and conversations to your master, and have my bike, phones, and weapon tapped with tracking gear and listening devices. That's stalking, Ian." Sara stated, her irritation spiking along the emotional link that connected them.

Ian spun around to face her, staring at her intently. He could hear her heart race and smell an increase in the pheromones she was given off as well as in the radiant heat given off by her body. These were classic signs of arousal and frequent fluctations Sara underwent when they were near each other. He ignored them as he always did, though he could not control his own physical reaction to her nearness. "You do no see because you do not wish to see, my lady. I am aware that you are not some meek flower to be placed on a pedestal and worshipped. You are a warrior, Sara Pezzini and I trust in your skill to protect yourself from harm. Yet many are the times I have struck from the shadows you claim I hide in to 'stalk' you, ending threats of which you were unaware. I have often given you advice in the only way I am allowed, and you call me cryptic and psychotic because I use not the common vulgar tongue of those you associate with on a daily basis. You see what the Witchblade shows you, yet you refuse to believe, even when you are in danger as the blade and I have tried to show you."

Ian approached her, standing inches from her and looking her in the eyes. He was quivering with emotion, as was she, though neither was able to name what forces where coursing through them at the moment. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a blade from its sheath on his forearm and slid it into her grip. He moved the tip of the blade to a spot slightly above his Adam's apple and pressed it forward enough to draw blood.

He ignored the frantic approach of her new found friends as he continued to look into her soul. "If you trully hate and despise me, my lady, then do what needs to be done and end my life. For I am sworn by oaths as old as the Witchblade to serve you, in this life and in the next. If I am no more to you than a stalker and Iron's lapdog, then put me from my misery so that I may be reborn into a life that you might not find so repugnant as that which I live. My life is your's, Lady Sara Pezzini, Wielder. As it has been since the dawn of time and shall continue to be when this world has turned to cosmic ash."

He stared into her eyes and waited, allowing his feelings to flow through their connection, letting her see all that which he had previously hid from her. If she took his life, then he would die gladly, for it would be the release he so desperately needed from his master's control and this mockery of a life he was forced to live. If she spared him, then perhaps all was not lost and he could win her trust and maybe one day, her regard as a friend if nothing else. Either way, his existance was about to under go a drastic change.