Author's note: I got tired of waiting for this to happen on the show, so I decided to write about how I would show Sara realizing that Ian had helped her. Also, this is my first Witchblade fanfic, so please be nice and review me!
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me. They belong to someone else. The only one I wish really did belong to me is Ian, but he doesn't. So don't hold that against me.
A Little Thanks
Sara Pezzini sat on her couch in the darkness. The only light in the room came from a candle on the kitchen table, whose solitary flame burned away the hours. Outside, the rain poured in torrents, but none of this moved her.
It had been three days since the death of Conchobar. Each moment of his death replayed in her mind over and over like a gruesome film. Like torture, she thought. Her heart ached from so much loss in her life. First her father, and then Maria and Danny, and now her beloved Conchobar. Tears welled in her eyes. Ian had once said that the Witchblade found women superior because of their ability to endure pain. She looked down at the softly glowing light on her wrist. If that was true then she understood why the Witchblade had chosen her. The tears slid down her cheeks. How much more pain could a person take? Once again the scene replayed itself and Sara surrendered to the ache of her heart. She curled up onto the couch and cried herself to sleep.
Danny watched from where he sat on the bed. She had almost lost herself completely over the last couple of weeks. But she was fighting her way out of the fog. He could sense it. He smiled and watched her sleep for awhile.
Sara awoke a few hours later. It was still dark and the rain still fell. And my heart still hurts, she thought.
"Pain fades with each passing day," Danny said.
She looked to the bed in surprise. Her ex-partner sat on the edge, smiling at her. "How much is too much?" she asked. He walked over and sat down beside her. She hadn't expected an answer. They sat in silence for a moment. The Witchblade glowed at her side. "What happened that day, Danny? Why couldn't they just take the money?"
He sighed and said, "Karma."
She looked down at her bracelet, watching the bright pink colors swirl through the blood red of the stone. She remembered how she had willingly given it to the Irish girl to set Conchobar free, only to see him killed by its deadly blade. "How did it get back on my wrist?" she asked through fresh tears.
"Your man Nottingham retrieved it for you. At great risk to himself, I might add."
She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
Danny shifted so he faced her. "All I can tell you is that he's more than he appears." He smiled at her and added, "Think about it, Pez." A moment later, he was gone.
Sara groaned and hit the place where he had just been with a pillow. "Great, more cryptic advice. I feel like I need a secret decoder ring with this thing!" Still, his words about Nottingham made her think.
The Witchblade began to hiss and suddenly she was standing in a round chamber made of stone. Four large torches lit the room and chased away the chilly night air. Before her knelt a knight, pledging his loyalty to her for all time. There was something familiar about him. When he looked up, she was surprised to see hazel eyes staring up at her from under dark lashes. With just a few differences, the man was the spitting image of Ian Nottingham!
The image shifted again and this time she was on a boat floating on a river through a lush landscape. She was dressed as a Queen from ancient Egypt. Servants rowed the giant oars behind her. To her right stood a man, naked to the waist, speaking to her of how to use the Witchblade in the coming war. She studied his features; again it was distinctly Ian. Lifetime after lifetime came in the briefest of flashes and in each one he was at her side as a trusted confidante.
The last image she saw was of the Ian she knew. He was dressed completely in black, leaning over her as she lay beside a dying Conchobar. He tenderly put the Witchblade back on her wrist. But what he did next surprised her even more. He kissed his fingers and placed them on her wounded arm, then removed his hat and knelt beside her, just as he had in the first image.
Sara gasped in air as the images finally left her. Her mind lingered over the last couple of months. At first, she had thought Ian was just Irons' lap dog. But one by one the times he had aided her stuck out in her mind. He had passed on information to her even when Irons had not. Hell, he had even saved her life a few times. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe there was more to Ian Nottingham than she had once believed.
Outside on the fire escape, Ian watched Sara. The rain had finally let up and he was wringing out his hat. He placed it back on his head, trying not to think about the chilly winter air. He looked back inside. The candle had burned down low, so that he could just see the outline of her face. The Witchblade glowed in the darkness and he felt her pain and confusion. "Sara," he whispered into the darkness, wishing he could have spared her the pain of seeing her beloved die. He watched as the visions took her into the past and returned her to the present. When it was over, she settled back into the couch cushions and he prepared to leave. But just as he turned to the stairs, he felt the familiar pull of the Witchblade. He could almost hear it calling his name as the universe shifted to conform to the desires of the blade. It bid him enter. Ian smiled and lightly knocked on the window.
Sara looked up in surprise. A glance at the clock told her it was 3:30 a.m. What in the world was Ian doing outside in the middle of the night? She rose and went to the window. His dark form was almost completely lost to the shadows on the other side. She slid it open and shivered as a gust of icy air blew in. "It's freezing out there Ian. Come inside, quick!" He slipped through the window and she closed it behind him. One glance told her he'd been out there for awhile. He was soaked through. "Take off your coat and hat," she said, while going to get a blanket out of the closet. When she returned, she traded it to him for his wet garments, which she hung by the door.
After making them both a cup of tea, she sat beside him on the couch. He looked uncomfortable, like a little boy who didn't know quite what was expected of him. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but didn't know where to start. She placed her teacup on the coffee table and when she turned back, their eyes met just briefly. Sara smiled at him, the visions still fresh in her mind. "I'm glad you're here," she said. His eyes flew up to meet her gaze in disbelief and she suddenly felt guilty for not being nicer to him in the past.
"Thank you, Sara, for the tea."
"You're welcome, Ian. But I'm the one who should be saying thank you. And I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. You've been helping me the whole way and I didn't notice…"
"It's not necessary for you to apologize, Sara," he said quietly.
She looked at him for a moment. His head was bowed to her, just like it was in the vision. "I didn't know, Ian," she started. "I didn't know about the past." Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "You were always there."
He looked into her eyes then, and the tenderness took her breath away. "I'll always be there, Sara."
She looked away then. "Danny said something about you returning the blade at your own personal risk. What did he mean?"
Ian closed his eyes. "It does not concern you…"
"Please, Ian."
He glanced at her again. "Mr. Irons instructed me to return the Witchblade to him since you gave it to the Irish woman."
"But you returned it to me," she said.
"The Witchblade is where it belongs, Sara."
She turned to look at him, finally understanding the power struggle between Ian and Ken Irons. The next words were hard to say. "Did he punish you?"
Ian was silent a moment, then simply said, "No."
Sara placed her hand on his cheek and turned his gaze up to meet hers. His eyes held pain and confusion, as well as tenderness and strength. She leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Thank you Ian," she whispered.
Ian closed his eyes against the emotion her kiss evoked. He didn't know what to say and didn't feel worthy of her thanks. When he opened them, he found her smiling. He couldn't stop the corners of his mouth turning up in response. He was suddenly warm. Taking the teacup, he swallowed the last few sips and rose from the couch. She walked ahead of him to the door and returned his hat and coat. They stood just feet apart. Emotions he had no name for coursed through him. He lowered his eyes and whispered, "Goodnight, Sara."
"Goodnight, Ian," she replied, closing the door behind him.
As she folded the blanket and cleaned up the cups, she paused. The ache in her heart had dulled. She still hurt for Conchobar, still missed his smile and laugh, and warmth. But the pain had finally begun to fade. With a little luck, she might even make it through the next day.
"Maybe even the day after that," Danny said from the couch.
"Maybe," Sara whispered before blowing out the candle and crawling into bed for some much-needed sleep.
~FIN~