Title: May I Call You Mother?
Author: Shanyetta
Email Address: I'd love your feedback: shanyetta@hotmail.com (I don't know how to make this a link sorry)
Rating: PG-13: for violence, child abuse, and some sensual aspects
Category: Drama/History; Ian/Irons/Sara (not sexual relationship, just history and a little bit of romance.)
Summary: A mysterious woman from Ian's childhood, Sara sharing his memories... (This could get quite long, but it will be very good.) :)
Disclaimer: This story is original, but alas the characters are not mine, they belong to TNT and Warner Bros. The only character that is my own creation is Constance, so if you wish to use her in your stories, please ask my permission first. So please don't sue me. ;)
Chapter 1: Memories
The city was dark and ominous. Huge thunderclouds were closing in all around the city. Nottingham crouched on the edge of a gargoyle-covered building. There was a loud boom of thunder and a flash of lightening across the sky as the first drops of rain came pouring down. Ian did not move. The rain soaked his body and chilled his bones. He came up to the top of this building a lot, partly because the top two floors were abandoned so he would not be found, and it was the furthest building away from Irons. He came here to think, to remember, and to be alone. They only other things on the roof were the gargoyles. They consoled him and listened to him, sometimes he actually thought of them as his friends. His only friends. His only family. He had a family once, at least he once thought of it as a family. These thoughts were what plagued his mind tonight.
He remembered "her" tonight, all the memories that encompassed "her". He missed "her". He strained his memory to find her face, to make the memories come alive again. His face changed from a melancholy grimace to a small smile as he remembered the day he first met her...........
Ian was playing in the small orphanage room. He was no more than five years old. The wallpaper on the walls had decayed and fallen off the walls in places. The room smelled of mildew. It was hard for Ian to breath as he played with a flat rubber ball, making it into a hat or helmet and pretending that he was a soldier fighting the "bad guys". The orphanage had told him that his father was a brave soldier who fought in the Vietnam War. That war killed him and his mother had died heartbroken. He had not had a mother or father that was known to the orphanage officials. This story was what they would tell him, it always seemed to cheer him up. So, today he was being his "father", fighting for freedom and justice, the "American Way".
His play was interrupted by one of the old ladies who ran his wing, "Ian, sweetie, come with me, darling. We have someone for you to meet." Ian obeyed without question and dropped his flat rubber ball as he walked out of the horrid room. The old lady took his small hand his hers as she walked him down the dark hall, drops of water dripped down to the floor, making the whole building damp. The old lady turned to Ian as she continued walking, "The past few months there has been a young woman watching you and studying you. She was seeing if you were what she was looking for in a little boy." The old lady still kept moving by the musty bedrooms dragging Ian behind her, "Well, my boy, you are in luck. She has decided to adopt you." Ian's eyes became very wide, he did not know what to say, he was going to be adopted? This was the happiest day of his life!
As they finally reached the "office" at the end of the hall, he saw her. She was young, probably around 20. She had beautiful blonde hair that she had tied up in the back so that it was off her neck. Her skin was pale and lovely; it shone in the dim light of the room. Her tall and thin 5'8" frame was dressed in a black knee high skirt and tight gray sweater. Her appearance was radiant, but it was her eyes that always had stayed imprinted in his memory, they were hazel, green with a little brown, like his own. She was an angel.
The old lady tugged him into the room and introduced him, "This is young Ian Nottingham, Miss Dain. Ian, this is Miss Constance Dain."
Constance bent down to look at Ian. He dropped his head, shyly. "He is fine, is he not?" her voice was like the sound of wind blowing through the trees on a calm autumn day.
"Very fine indeed." replied the old lady. "This is how he comes, all his earthly possessions are on him now. Take him or leave him." The old lady held out a document to be signed.
"Take him, of course." Constance took Ian's small hand in hers and signed the document.
She began to walk out with him, but he started resisting, the "outside" was unknown to him and frightening, "Where are you taking me?" His small voice rang.
She bent down to him again, stroking his curly black hair with her long slender hand; she looked into his eyes and whispered, "Home."
Another boom of thunder awoke Ian from his world of memories. He looked at his watch and leapt up off the ledge and onto the roof, he was going to be late. Irons had ordered him to go to her apartment before she arrived home. She would be in home in two minutes! He had to hurry.
Sara unlocked her door and fumbled up the dark stair to turn on the light switch. As she turned them on she heard a noise at her window; it was "he". She drew her gun and walked slowly over to her window.
Nottingham was standing in the pouring rain head bowed. He tapped the window again, She's enjoying this. He thought. She wants me to stand in the rain for awhile. I don't blame her.
Sara opened the window and let him in. "You're drenched."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Sara" he was surprised at how he had answered her. Sarcasm?
Sara's eyes were wide, "That was a different?" she smiled a little, "I think you are actually developing a sense of humor." She went to her bathroom and grabbed a towel, when she walked back into her living room; he was in her kitchen ringing out his cap over her sink.
"Here," she tossed him the towel, "But don't get too comfortable." He grabbed the towel and wiped off his face, putting on his cap he walked over to Sara. "Why are you here, Nottingham? To give me another pointless riddle?"
He gave her a small smile, "No, something different this time."
For the months that he and Sara had known each other, they had become accustomed to each other's presence, little could irritate either person anymore. Sara raised her eyebrows, "Then what?"
"He wishes for you to meet him for lunch tomorrow. He wants to teach you more about the Witchblade."
She sighed, "I bet that there is no point in me refusing then?"
"No there is not."
"Then when do I need to be there?"
"Anytime tomorrow between 12:00 and 2:00." He began to walk to her window.
Sara reached out to stop him, "Wait..." her hand wrapped around his shoulder. He stopped; suddenly they were both in a vision. Sara could see into his mind, into his memories. She saw blurry images swirling through her mind of what looked like a young boy, of Irons, of his big house. The images stopped, everything went black except the face of a young woman with hazel eyes, she smiled and Sara came back to reality.
Sara staggered backward, bumping into her couch. Ian was shaking. "What...who?" Sara managed to mutter. She could see that Ian was upset, it seemed like her seeing those images had peeled off a scab and allowed a wound to bleed again. "I'm sorry, if I had known..."
He turned toward her, his face streaked by tears. He looked up at her letting his eyes fall on hers, then he turned a walked out of her window. She ran towards the window, "Who was that lady?!" she yelled after his departing shadow, but it was too late he was gone.
